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#geralt of riva
geekynerfherder · 5 months
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'The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt' by Krzysztof Domaradzki.
Officially licenced 18" x 24" giclee prints, in signed and numbered AP editions of 10 each.
On sale Friday October 20 at 6pm (European Time) through Krzysztof's website.
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Jaskier saw Geralt once and was literally like "do you need a dog because I can bark"
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A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part VI
Notes: Fate is a bitch and I’m loving it~ No Deglan again but hey we’re coming closer to the ending and he will show up again xD This is part 6 :)
Fandom: The Witcher
Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Addiction
Summary: Y/N ends up back in Vengerberg for another winter but not out of his own volition. He’s a miserable bastard but after some advice he knows what he has to do. 
Word Count: 4,203
Taglist: @thatsequoia​
If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VII, Part VIII
Masterlist
Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed and is addressed in this story, if you potentially get triggered please do not continue to read!
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There was one thing that Fenri hadn’t considered. That his friends and Deglan didn’t consider.
Yes, Y/N was hiding the truth from them in the letter he sent but he did not lie when he had told the blond witcher that he would return in the winter.
He wanted to return.
It was just that fate could be a real fucking bitch.
Which was why three weeks before the first snow fell, a certain h/c haired witcher was lying in a ditch on one of the forest paths at the edge of the Mahakam mountains with a bleeding head injury, his right eye barely left unscathed by huge claw marks while his ear was missing a junk of skin and his left thigh had a gaping tear in it. 
The grass around him was soaked in his blood.
Had it not been for Lisica’s distressed calls that alarmed a nearby merchant who recognized his armour and the blue neckcloth from his last year’s stay in Vengerberg, he probably would have bled out and died next to the corpse of the monster he had barely managed to slay after the surprise attack.
Thankfully he didn’t end up dead.
He sure felt like it though.
It took a while for his vision to adjust, his body was still weak due to the fever that had tormented him the last few days and whoever was taking care of him had yet to take off the bandages over the right side of his face.
He stared at the familiar wooden ceiling and watched how the small light of a candle flickered across the wood grain. He knew that pattern intimately and he was relieved.
He was in Vengerberg. Somehow he ended up making it to the tavern from his last year’s stay.
Slowly he lifted his right hand - it surprised him how weak he felt - and carefully touched the bandage over his eye and head. It itched terribly and he could feel his pulse through the fabric. It felt hot.
Gripping his teeth he sat upright, his bruised torso complained with spikes of pain and he felt dizzy. He didn’t have time to bitch and whine though and he scanned the room with his left eye for his belongings.
The room was similar to how he remembered it, there was a stool missing though and on the small wooden nightstand next to the bed was a basin with soaked linen dressings and a couple of herbs he could identify as Celandine and Ribleaf.
He was sure that those herbs belonged to him. Which meant that he didn’t lose his belongings when he got rescued.
Relieved he spotted his saddlebags in the corner on a wooden table.
The witcher pushed himself off the bed and almost crumbled right then and there, his left leg couldn’t support his weight and he had to sit back down again, squeezing out a pained moan between his teeth.
Taking deep breaths, he tried again, this time trying to maintain his weight on his right leg and he quickly hobbled across the room to his saddle bags. He heavily leaned on the table while he waited for the sudden dizziness to pass.
Then he grabbed his saddlebags and searched them for his potions. He was slow, annoyingly slow.
Suspicions began to rise when he pulled out the letters of his friends and the papers of the envelopes were discoloured and held a distinct herbal smell.
“Don’t tell me...”, he mumbled and sniffed the envelopes.
His other letters - the ones addressing Deglan were discoloured as well and when he finally felt the wood of his small potion chest, he had a bad premonition.
He pulled the chest out of the bag and some liquid dripped on his hand.
No, please...
Y/N placed the chest on the table with shaking hands and opened it.
When he saw the glass remains of his potion vials and the damp herbs he had to close his eye for a second and breathe. His hands formed fists on the table.
Those potions were of great importance for witchers and not easily obtained much less brewed. Before his departure on the Path, he had spent months brewing the contents of these vials and when he had left, he regularly took hours of his days to collect more herbs and ingredients for it.
Losing them was not only incredibly frustrating but also dangerous for his future endeavours. Their loss would force him to take on smaller requests which in turn would mean that he had less money to acquire rare ingredients from a herbalist.
Trying to calm himself he opened his eye again to inspect the damage further.
Most vials were shattered and their liquid remains were gathered at the bottom of each half of the chest in a dark puddle.
His Swallow potions gone, his Cat potions gone. His Golden Oriole, his Blizzard, his Black Blood, his Thunderbolt, his White Raffard’s decoction, all of their vials, broken.
There was one glimpse of hope though in this tragedy. One vial of the potion he was looking for remained intact. It was only a small comfort but for the moment it had to be enough.
Carefully, he felt the bandage around his head and began to unwrap it. It took a long time.
The exhausted witcher hissed alarmed - but not in pain - when the fabric stuck to his skin and he slowly tore it off. The air felt good on the skin and he discarded the bloody bandage on the table. His arm muscles quivered from exhaustion.
By now he had realized that the right side of his face was so swollen that he couldn’t see even without the bandage and it worried him greatly. Had he lost sight in his right eye? He had to check.
He didn’t touch the skin though.
Instead, he sifted through his bags once more to find the small broken shard of a mirror he had used before to stitch his wounds. He unwrapped the damp cloth that protected him from the sharp edges of the shard and then he examined his face in it. Y/N sucked in some air through his teeth.
The forktail’s razor-sharp claws got him right across the bridge of his nose and forehead, missing his right eye by less than an inch and the slash from the monster’s left claw breached his hairline and ended at the upper back of his head.
The slash of the forktail’s middle claw reached from his right cheekbone across his ear to the back of his head and some flesh of his ear was missing due to it.
At least the fourth one missed, he thought sarcastically but the ugliness of the future scars and the meaning of these wounds left a bitter taste in his mouth.
During the last moments of his hunt, he had been careless. He was already drunk from apparent victory and it ended up costing him.
With a mug like that no one - really no one - would look him eye anymore... And it was uncertain if he could look back at all with his right eye.
Not if the infection of the claw wounds spread.
The wounds hadn’t been stitched, most likely due to the inexperience of treating a mutant - and his flesh ended up getting infected - most likely due to him lying in the dirt for so long - and if he wouldn’t act fast, the skin would rot.
Breathing through his nose, he grabbed one of the only intact vials from its compartment and opened it. The black liquid seemed ominous and the pain he could expect in a few seconds made him grit his teeth in preparation.
He hoped his eye was swollen enough that the potion wouldn’t reach it, he had never accidentally poured this elixir into his eyes before so he had no knowledge of any side effects.
He slowly tilted his head backwards, then poured the potion directly onto his face and the tavern owner Iven entered the room right when he howled in agony and fell unconscious.
-
"And now they most likely think that I am lying. I messed up and I am too scared to explain the truth."
Y/N took a big gulp from his jug of ale and then slammed it on the bar with a deep sigh, spilling a few drops of his drink.
It had been three weeks now since he “almost killed himself” according to the druid who had treated him.
He, of course, saw that differently.
Had he not used that elixir that day, he would have probably ended up losing his eyesight and would have been forced to spend the rest of his days as at most an instructor at the school of the Wolf or more likely a beggar.
But now he “only” had to walk around with a shitface. The right side of his face looked like a plowed field - a real improvement from the white scars he had gained in his youth.
The skin was still red but it healed considerably well, thanks to his mutated body and the antiseptic elixir he used.
Unfortunately, though, his accelerated healing abilities didn’t help to grow back the hair he was missing. The forktail had made sure to mess up his magnificent hair before dying.
He chuckled humourlessly.
This kind of dark humour was his only comfort - apart from the ale, of course. Which he really needed, especially now after he had just sent a letter to Kaer Morhen for Fenri and his friends in which he basically told them that he was not coming home.
He knew how it would look to them.
As if he had lied to Fenri. Not once but twice. The blond man would interpret it as if Y/N had lied to his face and then in the letter he sent. As if he lied to all of his friends. To them, he would be a deceitful bastard and this guilt ached worse than his wounds.
Maybe he could have solved this if he mentioned his injuries in his letter but he doubted it would seem like the truth. Not after he had mentioned getting injured in the first year to his rival. There was also his reputation. They probably couldn’t believe that he got injured so heavily, he was notorious for his skills back in his training years.
But they didn’t know how much he changed. Y/N didn’t want to admit it but in the last two years he had developed an addiction to alcohol. 
He drank almost every day and it wasn’t just one mead. He drank excessively and the money he made was spent on more wine and alcohol. 
Due to his fast metabolism he wasn’t drunk for long and he had to drink many bottles to truly feel the buzz of alcohol and so he grabbed a bottle more often than any other drunkard. 
During that day when he was got attacked he felt the withdrawal symptoms. He had been restless and plagued with migraines and his hand itched for some ale but he didn’t have any on him. He had checked two times already and during the third time the forktail descended on him.
If his friends knew that he let a monster sneak up on him, him who had better hearing than any of them, because he was looking for alcohol like a booze hound, they would probably shake their head in disbelief and disappointment.
He couldn’t tell them.
So he just had to deal with their anger. Not that he was in the mood for it. The fact that he possibly had ruined their friendship was a sour truth to swallow.
Y/N cleaned his sticky hand with the hem of his shirt and let his gaze linger on the many scars and blisters that covered his skin.
Not exactly a beauty are we, he thought bitterly. Getting uglier by the day...
The bard sitting next to him hummed.
Hannes had arrived in the city two weeks ago and was shocked when he first laid eyes on the witcher’s mauled appearance. He rested in the tavern in the room next to Y/N’s and spent most of his free time at the witcher’s side and made sure he was eating and healing well.
They did not talk much during that time because moving his jaw stretched the forming scabs and so he had yet to tell Hannes anything about the events that led to his injuries.
When he finally did, the bard exhaled loudly and needed a moment before he could formulate his thoughts.
It appeared like now was the same.
Y/N lifted his hand to wink at the tavern owner's daughter for another beer when Hannes finally spoke:
"I don’t think you messed up that badly. And there is no shame in being afraid."
He lowered his hand and turned his head to the left, the bard smiled assuringly and the witcher grimaced.
A thought crossed the witcher’s mind and he sighed when an image of Deglan appeared in his head.
The days before he encountered the forktail on the Path he had been feeling anxious about the upcoming inevitable meeting with his mentor. His chest had hurt when thinking about Deglan’s face.
How would he react when seeing him again?
He had yet to ceremonially take off the blue cloth around his neck - as he promised himself - and he was even wearing it now - after washing it and cleaning it of his own blood. The fabric was a shade darker now, unfortunately.
His eyes left the cloth at his throat and wandered to the bard.
If only he could fall in love with Hannes. It would have made everything so much easier.
The musician was good-looking, with his black hair and storm grey eyes. The hint of a beard accentuated his cheekbones and his eyebrows gave him a witty appearance. Combined with his blue shirt and brown pants he looked charming. Y/N did find him attractive and his character certainly was endearing...
He sighed.
Why was his life such a mess?
Hannes' words replayed in his mind and he breathed in slowly.
The bard only touched upon the tip of the iceberg of his feelings and it stung to hear it. He was not only afraid of messing up his friendship with Fenri and the others. In truth, he was glad that he was unable to return to Kaer Morhen in the end. He was not yet ready to cross paths with Deglan again.
He slew monsters for a living, he had ventured into caves and forests no sane man wanted to enter and he had taken the lives of creatures that the common folk feared to death, and yet he turned miserable and weak-minded when it came to talking about his feelings and such dainty emotion as love?
Oh, the irony. He could almost hear whatever deity fucking played with his life cackle in the background.
Hannes tapped his shoulder and he focused his attention on him again.
"There is no shame in being afraid but sometimes you have to confront your fears. Often, that is the only way to let go of them."
"That is easily said", he replied gruffly but the words echoed in his mind.
If he wanted to let go...
Doubt swirled in his mind but Hannes was trustworthy when it came to his advice, he had learned that fairly quickly after the last winter. He simply was uncertain if he could overcome his cowardice.
The bard reassuringly squeezed his left shoulder.
"You are a great man, Y/N. You will know what is best for you when the time comes.”
He paused, something flitted across his face but before Y/N could try to decipher it, Hannes added: “Life holds a dozen of opportunities and as vast those opportunities are, words are the same. You just need some time to figure out the right ones.”
The bard let go of him and took a sip from his ale. He grinned over the jug’s edge and asked: “On another note, how are you faring with your letters?”
The witcher knew exactly what the black-haired man meant and he groaned defeatedly.
“They experienced an accident”, he retorted and remembered how he tried to save the many letters he wrote to Deglan.
However, in the end, both them and the letters of his friends were unreadable. The ink had smudged due to the elixirs and the lines were blurred.
He had mourned them wholeheartedly last week.
His expression was grave enough for Hannes to make a face. The bard turned thoughtful and for a while, they were quiet again.
Y/N studied the grain of the wooden table and absent-mindedly massaged his left thigh.
He had removed his bandages a few days ago but it still hurt sometimes, especially when he walked so he had yet to do anything physically challenging. All he did was sit around and lay on his bed. He couldn’t even visit the city, not that he really wanted to do that. In his heart, he had already resigned himself to wearing a cloak forever.
“You know...”, Hannes suddenly said and he turned his focus back to the bard, “As sudden and arbitrary love is, it can fade. You should not wither away because of it, I don’t want you to."
The witcher raised an eyebrow. Not only did he not expect that sudden change of topic...
"Should you say that as a bard with dozens of ballads about eternal love?"
Hannes shrugged his shoulders with a grin.
"Those kinds of songs make the most money."
Y/N gasped in false shock, deliberately ignoring the implication of that topic - his feelings for Deglan - and instead imitated a young maiden and the bard slapped his shoulder while they erupted in laughter.
The action felt liberating and his chest appeared a bit lighter. It had been a while since he had laughed like this.
An image of his friends flashed in his mind and his grin faltered. He coughed and took the last gulp from his drink.
Hannes downed his ale as well and then exhaled loudly in satisfaction.
Again they were silent, Hannes most likely because Y/N did not acknowledge his ways of trying to steer the conversation in the direction of the witcher’s feelings.
Y/N leaned back and crossed his arms and the bard cleared his throat and called out to the tavern owner. The man, an older fellow of short stature named Iven, limped towards them and leaned on the bar to hear what the bard had to say.
"Iven, I wanted to inform you that I will not come back next year. And probably the year after, so you should find another entertainer during the winter."
Y/N tilted his head, wondering about the bard's absence, while the other man crossed his arms before his chest and jokingly said:
"Fucking finally, aye. Your horrible singing kept all my guests away!"
"Ha, we both know that’s untrue!"
Hannes exchanged verbal blows with Iven and laughed, but he stopped when he saw the thoughtful expression on the witcher's face and then leaned towards him to explain:
"I will be settling down in Skellige."
"Skellige?", asked both Y/N and the tavern owner with surprised faces.
"Yes", Hannes was smiling to himself as he leaned back in his seat, "I decided that I have seen enough of the world."
Iven clicked his tongue.
"You found a lass?" He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone and Y/N and Hannes followed the man's forlorn eyes across the room where his daughter was talking to some of the regular guests.
They exchanged a look and Hannes grinned.
"Well, something like that. Anyway... Can I have another beer for me and Y/N?"
"No", Iven gruffly replied but he took their jugs anyways and turned around to prepare their drinks.
Y/N watched the bard carefully. He was settling down...? Don’t tell me...
"Something like a lass...?", he asked quietly, and his thoughts began to race because what if...
A pipe dream floated in his mind and the image of two men, both yellow-eyed and showing signs of ageing, one with fewer white streaks of hair, the other with more wrinkles, standing before a small house looking happy and in love made his heartbeat speed up.
Growling inwardly he banned the thought from his mind.
Hannes gave him a side glance and smiled weakly. But his eyes showed an emotion Y/N could only describe as longing.
"It’s not what you’re thinking", the bard replied and he thanked Iven with a nod as the man slammed two beers on the bar counter in front of them.
He waited for the black-haired man to continue and they both watched as the tavern owner went over to his daughter and his regulars.
"My mother sent me a letter. I haven’t heard from her in years but somehow she found out about my summer stay in Cidaris. I remained longer there than usual and her letter reached me through one of my benefactors. Her lover died. And she has fallen ill. She begged me to return "home" but you know what-"
Hannes stopped and took a big gulp from his jug. He snorted humourlessly and the witcher noticed the darkness in his grey eyes and frowned.
"Skellige is not my home. I grew up in a small village in Verden and years after I had left home to follow my dreams, I returned and all I found was a burnt-down house, a letter and my father's grave in the backyard. He died because of an unknown sickness and my mother took off and married an Islander just weeks after his passing. And now she wants me to care for her after that bastard passed away too. And I will do it because she gave me life and we share the same blood, even though we haven’t seen each other in years and she- she had cursed me when I left home."
Y/N stayed quiet.
He did not know what to say.
He grew up as an orphan and the only people he could vaguely see as his parents were the people of Kaer Morhen.
Familial bonds and blood never meant anything to him and he never tried to find out anything about his parents, unlike Fenri who had visited his family home once when he snuck out of the witcher's keep.
The blond boy had returned with dried tears on his cheeks and bitterness in his eyes and Y/N knew from that moment on that parents were not something he needed or wanted. That was at least what he told himself.
So he did not know how to respond to Hannes’ bitter words.
But he understood him. If Hannes’ mother cursed him because he was the way he was, he truly understood his bitterness. If his friends cursed him because of his feelings for Deglan, he was sure the agony would kill him.
"You should visit me."
The bard distracted him from his thoughts and the witcher awkwardly cleared his throat because he had not yet found the right words to cheer the man up.
So he grasped the line that the Hannes threw at him;
"Of course. I’ll visit you. I’ve never been to Skellige before... And I’m sure your mother will like a witcher's company", he jokingly added at the end.
Hannes laughed and shrugged his shoulders and then suddenly his storm grey eyes held a burning intensity as their eyes connected, Y/N could see every speck of blue in them, how the bard’s big pupils were taking him in and how the fire accentuated the other man’s face and made it glow. His throat went a little dry.
"I... for certain would enjoy your company", Hannes said after a while, his tone soft.
Y/N blinked. His not-so-sober brain helpfully translated those words for him and their implication. He bit his lip.
He watched the man next to him carefully and his words echoed in his mind.
You should not wither away because of it, I don’t want you to. And he remembered their first meeting.
Something rose in his chest, a mix of self-hatred and selfconsciousness. His mouth tasted bitter.
Hannes shouldn’t look at him like that. He wasn’t worth it.
Y/N breathed in and out before answering:
"Well, I will think about it. I have some other affairs I first have to attend after all..."
His chest tightened. Yeah... other affairs.
Hannes leaned back, his smile bright and content as he downed the rest of his ale and he sighed satisfied after the last gulp.
"I am looking forward to your decision."
Y/N did not know if he would ever reach that point because as far as he was concerned he was not even sure if he would live until that day.
He knew one thing.
He had to return to Kaer Morhen the next winter. Not only to fix his relationship with his friends but to finally take off his neckcloth, to let go.
And after that... Maybe he could finally find peace.
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ground-zoro · 3 months
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Jolene by Dolly Parton but it's Yennefer begging Triss not to steal Geralt
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kajaono · 7 months
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I love how Yen has this beautiful speech about: Never lost, always found"
And then Geralt goes: "Never lost, always found. Yada Yada, now move your ass"
he is such a romantic
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thenightling · 10 months
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New Witcher Season 3 posters
New The Witcher season 3 posters of Geralt, Jaskier, Yennefer, and Ciri.
Geralt = Witcher (mostly immortal Monster Hunter)
Jaskier = Geralt's bard (musician) companion and civil rights activist.
Yennefer = Mostly immortal Sorceress that Geralt crushes on
Ciri = The orphaned princess being raised by these three vagabond lunatics.
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my-fortnite-blog · 1 year
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Geralt of Rivia is NOW available for all Battle Pass owners!!
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Witcher as New Girl Quotes
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These are my blorbos and I ship them. I think there’s a pattern there, just what exactly is it... 🤔
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(I also ship everyone of them except Emhyr with a lot of other people, so...)
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theurbanspaceboi · 2 years
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in the good version of the witcher (tv) that exists only in my brain geralt of rivia has an undercut. i am not taking questions
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thumalin · 2 years
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WIP: The Witcher
Another experiment with Monster Clay. Trying to sculpt Geralt and Roach.
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Ok there is a lot of The Witcher Henry Cavill vs. Liam Hemsworth discourse right now, but the only valid one is this article of a German media news site about why Liam Hemsworth is the better Witcher. Everybody else can go home. 🤣
Unfortunately it is in German, but if you understand the language have a look and a laugh.
(And yes I do indeed think Liam Hemsworth might be the better Witcher, and that it is unfortunate that he hasn't been right from the start, but for other reasons. 😅)
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abc-ok · 2 years
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I'm actually on vacation but I can't STOP draw this.....
rapunzel au
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A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part III
Notes: This is part 3 of a request and we’re still on the angst train haha... I’m so sorry lol. I feel like the characters I made up for this story are more present than the love interest omg but he will appear soon I promise!!
Fandom: The Witcher
Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, my sad attempt at making the language sound old
Summary: Devastated, Y/N spends his first year on the Path with a broken heart and the wolf comes to a decision. He will not return to his school’s keep in winter to heal his heartbreak. But staying away has consequences he has not fully considered...
Word Count: 3,614
Taglist: @thatsequoia
If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)
Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed and it is addressed in this story, if you are triggered by this please do not continue to read!
Part I, Part II, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII
Masterlist
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Winter had reached the lands and Y/N's encounters with monsters became rarer and rarer. The young witcher had increasingly more time to rest and therefore think and as a consequence guilt and longing began to gnaw at his heart, and so he did what many men did when they suffered from their feelings; He drowned these emotions in alcohol. 
The h/c haired man had travelled to Vengerberg to spend the winter there and was now resting in a small tavern that allowed him to stay during the cold months for a fair price. 
Winter meant no business for witchers and all the money he acquired would finance his stay at the inn. Had he gone home to Kaer Morhen he could have used the money for better armour and advanced potions but Y/N had sworn to himself that he would not return during that winter. 
Because of his feelings. He was not yet ready to face Deglan, to look him in the eye and not feel all the longing and love he held for the man for so many years.
His mentor’s words had haunted his mind for months. 
What did he want to tell him? That he knew about Y/N’s feelings for him? That he was disgusted? Why did he give him the cloth around his neck? What did it mean? What if he wanted to tell him he had found a woman to settle down with within the year that he stayed away? What if it was that noble lady he mentioned?!
His imagination would spin crazier tales than any bard ever could and his dreams tormented him with images of Deglan and all the witchers at Kaer Morhen and his friends cursing him and chasing him away. 
This fear settled into his chest and weighed him down whenever his resolve to stay away was shaken. 
And then it had turned high winter and he had no way to return to Kaer Morhen because the mountain passes were snowed in and he had no chance to cross them in that weather. 
So he stayed at the inn, his constant companions the tavern cat, alcohol, his yearning heart and his misery. The cat was good company though. The others... not so much.
Due to his miserable appearance and the strong stench of alcohol, most people stayed away from him, so he had rarely anyone to talk to. Not that people went out of their way to converse casually with a witcher.
He tried to distract himself by taking a look at the city.
But when he roamed the streets of Vengerberg to look at the occasional herbs and trinkets traders brought, some brave women would approach him. 
He saw them hanging around the bustling whorehouses in the city and could guess what they wanted, but as much as his witcher side wanted to relieve his sexual frustration, the women did not attract his interest at all. 
The thought of trying to forget Deglan by sleeping with any of them never crossed his mind. Because he could not. The idea did nothing for him. Rather it made him feel more miserable, so he steered clear of the prostitutes and avoided them whenever he could. 
In his free time - and he had a lot of it during that winter - when he was not drowning himself in alcohol and misery, he worked on his bestiary, trained, and after some conversations, played cards with the tavern owner and his daughter. Barmin had been a good teacher and Y/N could win any round of Gwent easily. 
His skills became so great apparently that the enthusiastic and bored players in the city began to seek him out for a challenge - some scared at first because of his scarred appearance and the rumours about witchers, others with great interest - and he spent the last two months of winter with all kinds of people. 
He met traders, soldiers, simple farmers and even a bard who recognized him as the slayer of the royal wyvern in Gulet. 
The latter showed an unusual interest in his life and Y/N realized with absolute wonder that the man was making advances on him. 
It threw him in a loop because finally, he had proof that he was not the only one who liked other men, there were more like him, therefore, he was normal and his feelings weren't unnatural or even abominable at all! 
But as much as he liked the bard's appearance and character, he was not over Deglan. His heart stubbornly held onto his feelings. Even when he had no chance at all... 
That thought dampened his mood every time and the bard noticed his despondent spirit. He was quick to identify his mood as a reaction to unrequited love and apologized for his unwanted advances.
Y/N didn’t mind them though, he told him and they held a long discussion about their preferences.
Hannes was a noisy fella and the few things that Y/N let slip about his feelings for Deglan quickly earned him the advice of writing some love letters to the person of his interest to deal with his feelings. 
It was utterly bizarre to suggest a witcher write a love letter but the idea somehow warmed up to him and before Y/N knew it he had written several letters addressed to his mentor. 
He never sent them though. 
They held his deepest secrets and hidden feelings and while he enjoyed writing down his thoughts and desires, he stowed them away in the depths of his saddlebags where they would hopefully stay hidden for eternity or the moment until he was strong enough to burn them. 
He was quite embarrassed when the bard asked him about it a few days later and he confessed that he indeed wrote some letters.
Hannes had only smiled and patted his shoulder as if he was proud of him. 
Y/N felt warm but strange at the same time, it was unusual for anyone to touch him so casually - of course, Deglan and his friends were an exception, but a random person instead of a witcher outside of Kaer Morhen was something new... He liked it.
Maybe that showed how lonely he actually was.
The bard and the other people who played Gwent with him distracted him during the day and strangely enough, some of them were concerned about his excessive alcohol consumption and whenever they met, he was only allowed to drink watered-down wine or beer. 
This certainly helped him to get back on his feet when news reached him in the first weeks of spring that a kikimore has been spotted by one of the trade groups en route to the city.
He was surprisingly excited to fight against a flesh-devouring monster again, but in his defence, the times in Vengerberg when no one else had time to play Gwent or entertain him, he spent moping, remembering and imagining terrible things. 
The nights when he could not sleep were the worst. His scarred skin itched and he remembered his nights in the alchemist cellar in Kaer Morhen, the screams of other apprentices echoed in his ears and phantom pain of the alchemist concoctions haunted his body. 
He remembered Cole’s dead body and the bodies of countless other boys who lost their lives during the trials and the fights against real monsters in the valley of the school’s keep. All the deaths he had seen, all the screams he had heard. 
Those memories pumped adrenalin through his veins and his nerves were all on the edge, he could smell the rotting cheese in the cellar of the tavern, the mould in one of the other guest rooms, and he heard the quietest squeak of one of the rats in the attic, the gulps of the late patrons downstairs when they drank their beer and the rustling of fabric when someone moved.
Deglan’s cloth around his neck seemed heavy like hundredweights in those moments, like a scalding noose and he wanted to take it off but he swore to himself that he wouldn’t and he was stubborn, so he endured until his panic attacks subsided.
Y/N hated these attacks and more often than not he found himself gripping his thighs so hard that his fingernails left bloody half moons on his skin.
He tried to meditate but he rarely found relief because his mind wandered when he remembered the meditation techniques he was taught by Deglan.
Deglan, Deglan, Deglan. Like a loyal dog, his mind always returned to him. 
It was pure torture.
Y/N never wanted to experience that again. 
The prospect of working his body to exhaustion was therefore very welcome. And any injuries he would receive from the kikimore hunt... well, his subconscious saw them as an additional bonus. He did not really think about that though.
The next day, Y/N packed his travel bags, saddled Lisica and told the owner and his daughter goodbye and then he was off on the Path for the second time.
Unexpectedly though, he met several people of the city at the gate, people he knew, and like the year before at Kaer Morhen, he got sent off by a waving crowd. 
His chest was warm when Lisica rushed down the path from Vengerberg and he decided to return to the city again when the opportunity would arise. 
-
He hunted the kikimore successfully and soon the monster-killing business was in full swing again and Y/N was busy travelling across Aedirn. 
The letters in Lisica's saddlebags multiplied and he had to buy new paper and ink several times, for the letters addressing his friends but mostly for his letters addressed to Deglan.
With growing relief Y/N slowly felt like the distance finally did what it was supposed to do. Deglan did not haunt his dreams and thoughts as often as before and the pain in his chest lessened. The letters probably helped as well. He was surprised how good it felt to write his suppressed emotions down. 
But then he unexpectedly met Fenri. 
And everything went down the drain.
The two witchers met on the road after Y/N had just exterminated a nest of ghouls, still covered in blood and intestines. He came across a black stallion with a griffin head tied to the horse's saddle as he left the forest on foot with Lisica walking beside him. 
His mare whinnied excitedly and Y/N quickly realized that this was the horse of his rival. 
He tied Lisica to a tree because she was a bit too happy about seeing a friend from her filly years and then he turned around and approached the mighty stallion with a placating gesture. The horse snorted when he walked up to him to pet his flank. 
"What are you doing here, boy?" he asked calmly and laughed a little when Fenri's stallion nudged his hip where he had some snacks stored for Lisica. He was about to give the stallion half of a carrot when he felt something sharp pressed against his back. 
"Get your whoreson ass away from Cinder", growled a voice from behind him and Y/N smiled knowingly. 
Although Fenri was at fault for many of his nightmares, he tried to not hold it against him. After all, they had been somewhat friends since the moment they passed the trial of Grasses and they became real friends - and true rivals, according to Fenri - in the years after Cole’s death. 
The blond was also not the only one who had said horrible things in his youth. It was not like he could openly hold it against him either. People like him and Hannes were... rare, probably.
And to tell the truth, he was actually glad to know that Fenri was still alive. They rarely exchanged letters, so he was unaware of his whereabouts and adventures.
"I didn’t know you would be here in Aedirn, Fenri", he said and turned around to face the other witcher. Fenri's eyes widened and before Y/N could say anything else, he was punched in the face. 
His eyes watered instantly and he leaned back while holding his nose, groaning in pain. 
"What... the fuck was that for?!" 
The man felt blood trickling from his nose and angrily wiped it away with the back of his hand. The blond witcher in front of him still showed a dumbfounded expression and tucked away the dagger he hit Y/N with.
"Ah, I apologize. I don’t know what came over me." 
Fenri scratched his now-bearded chin awkwardly and patted Y/N's shoulder as an apology.
The two witchers looked at each other.
Both of them had changed in the last year. New scars, new freckles, different hairstyles, the absence of their last boyish naivety... 
A second later they hugged.
"You brute, why did you punch me?!" Y/N laughed and winced at the same time as Fenri's arms tightened around him. 
His rival and friend snorted but it sounded slightly aggressive and when they parted from their hug, he grabbed the older witcher by the shoulders. His yellow eyes stared into Y/N's with a stern look.
"Everyone thought you were dead. That you got mauled by a basilisk on the Path..." He paused, searching Y/N's eyes for any kind of guilt. 
"Barmin was actually crying, you fool. After Cole's death..." He paused again to take a deep breath. "His heart is fragile like a maiden’s, you know that well. Why did you not send a letter?" Fenri shook him by the shoulders. 
"Where were you?" 
Y/N gave him an exhausted smile, showing his blood-stained teeth and the man let go of him. 
He could understand Fenri's reaction. Their friend group had been tight-knitted ever since Cole's death and all the letters he received and which were currently in his saddlebags acted as proof. He received the most from Barmin, his closest friend.
He could guess what they imagined when he did not appear in Kaer Morhen during the winter... When he did not send any word of his absence. He just hadn’t expected Fenri to react emotionally and hit him in the face. 
He touched his nose carefully, it still hurt, but thanks to his mutated body he had already stopped bleeding. Y/N wiped the rest of the blood away from his lips and then tried to find the right words to explain why he did not return to the Wolf school's keep all these months ago. 
"I spent the winter in Vengerberg..." He turned away from Fenri to give Cinder the carrot from before, while he continued to talk: 
"It was already late autumn when I arrived in the city and I was injured. Even if I had left for Kaer Morhen then, I would not have been able to come before the arrival of the first snow. So I stayed to heal. I wanted to send a letter but I was busy so it slipped my mind." 
The truth sprinkled with half-lies went surprisingly easy over his lips. However, he forgot that Fenri was not easily fooled. 
"That is a load of crap. You didn’t want to come, did you not?" 
Y/N stilled, his muscles tensed and he bit his lip. How... How could Fenri know? Was he that obvious? He couldn’t be, right?
But Fenri destroyed his hope with his next words:
"It’s because of Deglan, or am I wrong?" 
Y/N's heart wanted to leap out of his chest and he abruptly turned around to face his friend. All these years he thought he was subtle, that he hid his feelings well. If Fenri knew who else did? What if...? 
No. No, that can’t ever happen!
His heartbeat began to pound loudly in his ears while he watched his friend with eagle eyes, trying to find any kind of sign that he was joking.
Fenri paced in front of him with a hand in his hair as if he tried to appear carefree.
"Fuck, you should have seen Deglan's face when he saw us sit at our usual table, you nowhere to be found... I have never seen that expression before, he looked like he-" the witcher snorted, "he looked like he was about to butcher someone. Now that I think about it, it will probably be you when you two will meet this winter. Maybe you shouldn’t return." 
He looked at Y/N again who stood still as a statue, his hand clenched into fists. The older witcher did not react to his joke and Fenri frowned. 
He understood Y/N's reaction to an extent but it still surprised him.
He had been thinking about the situation since Deglan had stormed out of the Evening hall when the news reached them that Y/N did not arrive at Kaer Morhen and no one heard anything from him, and Fenri came to the conclusion that the words he had said all those years ago had held some truth. He had some suspicions for years but only after Deglan’s obvious fury did he begin to seriously mull over it.
Y/N most likely held romantic feelings for Deglan. And Deglan... Well, he had felt that their relationship was special during their last years of training but... He was certain that they did not talk about it. Not yet.
It was probably likely due to Fenri's dumb comment and the bullshit talk of other witchers after it that Y/N was trying to avoid Deglan and why he stayed away from Kaer Morhen. 
But he was sure that the h/c haired witcher couldn’t let go of his feelings. 
The blue cloth sticking out under his armour said enough, Fenri knew it had been a gift from Deglan, he had watched the two men closely when he and his friends were sent off on the Path.
He could never believe that his rival was dead. So he counted two and two together and reached a conclusion; the older man was more of a coward than he thought.
"You should have just returned. Who cares what feelings you have for him, anything is better than him and all your friends believing you to be dead." 
Y/N's shoulders shook and he let go of the stallion's mane. 
"...ny."
"What?" Fenri tilted his head. Did he hear correctly?
"I do not have any feelings for Deglan."
Y/N had to squeeze these words out between his teeth and the lie burned on his skin like a whiplash. 
Fenri frowned. 
"You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N. Listen, I know what I said all those years ago hurt you and I want to say that-" He got interrupted by the other who had turned around. His yellow eyes held an icy gaze and the witcher's voice was flat: 
"I said I do not feel anything for Deglan. Stop assuming that I do. We both know men liking men is disgusting."
Having his own words from his stupid youthful self thrown back at him made Fenri feel horrible, especially because Y/N's eyes were full of withheld pain. 
He wanted to open his mouth to protest, to tell his rival that he had changed his mind, that he had been wrong and a brainless fool when he was younger, that he had no right to assume anything about the true feelings of another and he as a witcher should know better than to dare act presumptuous but Y/N walked past him without a word and Fenri opened and closed his mouth uselessly. 
The words just wouldn’t leave his lips.
He was too shocked and felt too guilty to react as his friend everyone had believed to be dead mounted his horse and left. He only stared at Y/N’s retreating back as Cinder whinnied, expressing the sadness he felt when his childhood friend disappeared without another word.
-
Y/N bit his lip so hard he could taste iron again. Lisica's speed made his eyes water and when actual tears rolled down his cheeks he did not stop them. 
A storm raged in his mind and he still could not quite fully comprehend what had just happened. 
At first, he had been happy to see Fenri again, even though it felt strange because the other had changed quite a bit. But then Fenri mentioned his absence in winter - he should have seen that coming - and quickly discovered his lies. 
Fenri knew all along. About his feelings for Deglan, about the impure thoughts he had, about him wanting to confess, fuck, he had probably known since that moment all those years ago! 
He had known about Tristan and now he knew about Deglan. Fenri knew he was a dirty disgusting immoral bastard and he had tried to act as if he believed Y/N was normal. 
It had to be a trick. He probably wanted to lure him back to Kaer Morhen only to condemn him before the school of the Wolf. Deglan would be there, maybe even that noble lady would be by his side, or another woman, his mentor was handsome enough... 
And his friends would be there. And everyone else. 
They would hang him.
He ignored the tiny voice in his head whispering that Fenri would never do that and his friends would not react that way. The fear that had tormented him for the few years since that one incident on a hunt coiled around his heart like a snake, crushing the excitement he had felt when he saw his friend again.  
He heaved a dry laugh and his shoulders began to shake. 
"Fuck." 
More tears escaped his eyes and he tightened his grip around the reins. 
For the first time in many years, he once more thought about joining Cole in the afterlife. 
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first-edition · 1 year
Text
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.
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“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
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