#geralt oneshot

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Nothing Without You - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

Soulmate AU!! But basically just hurt/comfort with a bit of soulmate au to spice things up lmao, hurt/comfort, angst, x female or female identifying reader (for plot, but they use they/them pronouns if any are used at all)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Injury, injured reader, blood, canon violence. Not proofread.

Summary: Soulmate AU where your eyes are the colour of your soulmate's; except it's just a bit different for witchers and theirs.

Before Geralt had become a witcher, he remembered the colour of his soulmate's eyes; of his. A striking shade of green - greener than all the leaves in the spring.

I remembered the colour of my eyes: of my soulmate's. They had been a warm brown; the warmest shade of brown I had ever seen. Warmer than all the reds and yellows and oranges of the autumn, and browner than the darkest of chocolates, but when the sun shone on them, they held the most beautiful of golden sunsets; But shortly before my 10th birthday, I awoke with striking yellow eyes. My parents were shocked. My mother demanded to throw me out, to be rid of the witcher child. My father had gone as far as to leave her, taking me with him. He was killed when I was fifteen; by angry townspeople who thought he had to die for protecting me and loving me unconditionally. I was a monster to them.

And so that was what I became.

I traveled, living the way of a witcher and hunting creatures for coin. It was not the life I would have expected or, in all honesty, would have wanted for myself, but it was the life I now lived. I did not blame my soulmate, but sometimes I wondered if I would ever meet the person who had damned me to this way of life.

It was that path that had been the easiest to take. People believed witchers could not have soulmates, that the bonds were broken when they had gone through the trials. Those like me often took to the roads, in search of their witcher soulmate; Once you met them, your eyes would turn their true colour. It was almost impossible to find them, since the eyes of the witchers did not take the colour of their soulmate's. It was completely up to chance whether you met them or not. Very few were lucky enough, but to them it was the only chance at a normal life.

I had taken the route of no return, simply going along with the facade. There were certain perks to the job, the air of fearful respect from the villagers and getting to travel the lands, none of which I would have had as a normal woman back in my village. All because of my eyes.

I gazed at myself in the dusty mirror of the tavern, took in my tattered state and the slight darkened look around the edges of my golden eyes. I had grown accustomed to them, growing to love the colour of my soulmate's eyes as much as I could, given what grief they had forsaken upon me. Living the life of a witcher made me come to have all the more respect for them, whoever they may be.

I sighed, straightening up and shrugging my cloak on, as I prepared to continue tracking the beast I had come here for. It was a vile creature, living mostly in the forests, disguising itself as a fallen tree to the average passerby. It had begun to pick people off at first, just the average villager; but the beast fed off of magical energy, and edged ever closer to the village, searching for a food source. It was soon preying on healers and small-time magicians, people with magical powers. It had even been said to fell a witcher. It grew ever more powerful as they sent sorcerers one after the other, each failing to return as it consumed their magical energy. Soon it wasn't even bothering with the average townsfolk anymore; it was well fed.

I was quite confident with my abilities to slay the creature; I did not possess any sort of magic, so therefore it would regard me as an average villager, hopefully not even bothering with me, I thought as I slung my sword over my shoulder and clipped my sheathed axe to my hip. Unless my witcher eyes counted.

"'It's not very far.'" I muttered to myself, pausing to lean against a tree and catch my breath. I had been told to keep an eye out for a cabin. Among the old, rotten firewood behind it was where the beast supposedly hid. It would be easy to tell from the others, it would have no moss growing and attaching it to the ground like the others. It simply wouldn't have been there long enough for that. I'd find it, chop its wooden heart out, and collect my coin, easy-

My head jerked up when I heard a creaking sound, swinging back and forth, trying to see what it was. I saw nothing, no movement at all, but the sound was unmistakably loud.

I stumbled back as a fallen log to the right of me rose up. Its hollow eyes staring right into my soul. I watched as it grew taller and taller, stretching its branches and limbs out and shaking dirt and leaf litter off of itself.

"Fuck." I guess my eyes did count.

I jumped back, barely dodging its first swing. It swung another branch at me, this time catching me. I managed to duck away from the large branch, but the smaller branches and twigs whipped against my bare forearms, covering them in small cuts. I hissed, pulling my axe out of its sheath.

The next time it slashed at me, I swung the axe in a huge arc. The unbelievably sharp blade sliced through several smaller branches with ease. A horrible screech split through the air, causing me to cover my ears. I scrambled back when it reached for me again, turning and running for the edge of the clearing, just out of its reach. I watched from a safe distance as the beast grabbed for me, growling and crackling in frustration before suddenly stilling, standing upright like a normal tree. Did it think I was that stupid?

A deafening cracking sound echoed throughout the woods, but the 'tree' did not move. It was followed by a rumble, and the ground tremored. I watched in horror as it ripped its roots from the ground, the dirt falling from them. It stomped over in my direction, and a surge of panic went through me.

I dove for the cover of the brush. Just before I made it, a branch wrapped around my ankle, sharply jerking me back into the clearing, hard. I cried out, my ankle audibly snapping. I struggled against it, to no avail. It suddenly let go of me, and I scrambled back for the bushes once again; And once again, it grabbed me and harshly dragged me back. A strangled cry escaped my throat. I felt the bones in my ankle shifting and floating around. If it hadn’t been broken before, it definitely was now.

The tree creature whipped me up off of the ground and slung my body through the air as if I were a rag doll. My body came into contact with the ground with a thud, muted by the layers and layers of leaf litter on the forest floor. If it weren’t for the half-rotten log hidden beneath, it would have been an otherwise cushioned landing; but of course, I wasn’t that lucky. My head whipped forward and hit the side of the log. I tumbled over the log, continuing to rollI several feet through the mud and brush before I stopped. My head pounded, and my vision blurred dangerously. I closed my eyes to blink in an attempt to clear my vision, but I was unable to open them again.

I tossed my head side to side, straining my arms against the branches that held them down. I opened my eyes, lifting my head to see what restrained me. The thick branches continued to wind around my wrists and ankles, and an even larger one emerged from the ground and began to coil around my middle. I continued to struggle weakly against the monster’s ‘arms’ as they sapped my energy relentlessly. My breath hitched in my throat when the branch around my broken ankle suddenly constricted it, causing the fragmented bones to shift.

An axe suddenly sliced into one of the limbs restraining me, missing my hand by less than a centimeter. It chopped into the rest of them, freeing me from the monster’s clutches with a horrible scream that echoed around the clearing. I rolled onto my side, pushing myself onto my hands and knees. Ignoring the way my head spun, I staggered to my feet. I stumbled over to my own hatchet while the beast was distracted with the white-haired man. I fell back onto all fours as I reached down to grab it, wasting precious time to stumble back onto my feet. The man was fighting against the tree still, his eyes unable to meet mine. He grunted when it brought up a large limb to meet his axe, ripping it away when the blade became stuck in the wood.

I suddenly rushed up to the tree, its heart hollow exposed, and sank the blade of my small hatchet into its heart. I stood slowly, swaying on my feet. My yellow gaze darted up to meet his, and I could have swore I saw his own golden eyes flicker a shade of the warmest brown I had ever seen, before I slumped to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The worn bed frame creaked and groaned beneath my weight as I shifted onto my side with a low whine. My head throbbed painfully when I lifted it. The room was old and abandoned, and cobwebs and dust clung to every crevice. I blinked in confusion. How did I get here?

I propped myself onto my elbows, before forcing myself into a sitting position. I ignored the fatigue pulling at my limbs and the pounding in my head, glancing around. Panic began to set in as I came to my senses and realized I had no idea where I was.

Heavy footsteps suddenly sounded from behind the closed door, and I was immediately on defense.

"You're safe here." The man from earlier reassured me, shutting the door behind him. I eyed him warily, though a strange, reluctant sense of calm washed over me with his presence.

"Who are you?"

"Lie back down." I didn't budge, and he huffed in frustration. "Lie down and I'll tell you."

"I'm fine." I argued stubbornly.

"I know you're in pain. Lie down." He demanded, pressing a large hand to my chest. I obliged without complaint this time. My body immediately relaxed into the bed, all my muscles and nerves finally quieting their screams of protest. I watched him curiously as sat on the bedside. I uncomfortably shifted over to put some distance between us.

"Geralt of Rivia." He introduced himself. "You’re not a witcher.” His voice rumbled as his eyes searched mine curiously.

“Oh here we go again with all this sexist bullshit about how women can’t be witchers-” I grumbled.

“Your eyes aren’t gold.” He said matter-of-factly. “They’re green.”

“What?” I asked him, dumbfounded. I began to struggle back into a sitting position, the sudden need to find some sort of reflective surface too much to bear.

“Stay.” He grunted. He dug into a backpack sat by the wall, retrieving a flask and handing it to me. I brought it up to my face, staring at my reflection in shock. My eyes were no longer the striking yellow I had grown so used to. They were now an almost equally stunning green. The unfamiliar eyes gazed back at me.

“I’m your soulmate.” My eyes darted up to his face.

“No, there’s no way-”

“Your eyes were golden when I found you in the woods. They’re not now.” He said simply. I suddenly recalled his eyes flickering brown as I met his gaze before I passed out.

“Your eyes are brown..” My voice trailed off.

“So that’s what they were.”

“I remember, your eyes were such a pretty shade of brown. Then they turned yellow when I was eleven or so, I think.”

“The trials.”

“The witcher trials?” He simply nodded. My eyes wandered unseeingly. I was completely lost in my thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

“For what?”

“I imagine it couldn’t have been easy for you. Not if you’ve taken up the life of a witcher.”

I shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled at some injury on my shoulder I didn't even know I had. "It was the easiest thing to do."

"Was it?"

"I guess so." I hesitated. "I don't know. I just went where the fates took me."

"It's a curse."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

"I never thought I'd find you, you know? What were the chances?" I admitted, glancing back at him.

"Very slim." He agreed.

"You're free to live a normal life now." He said after a moment.

"Do you really think I'd want to? After everything I've experienced?"

"If I were still in my village, I'd already be popping out kids as a housewife," I continued. "But because of this whole thing–because of you– I've been able to do all this. Hell, I'm known as the one and only badass female witcher, I've convinced people of the supposedly impossible; I'm not giving up that title."

"So that was you." He mused. "What are you going to do now, then?"

It suddenly hit me that I no longer had the one thing that allowed me to get this far: my golden eyes. I could put on my act all I wanted to, but that couldn't save me from the fact that I was now a fraud.

"I…I don't know." I admitted quietly. "I'm nothing now."

"I can't just go back to normal, Geralt. I can't, I'd kill myself out of boredom."

"Come with me." He offered suddenly.

"What?"

"Travel with me. You're more than capable, if you've managed to convince people you're a witcher."

"But I'm not anymore." I argued. "I'm a fraud. A phony. I’d just drag you down further." He snorted at that.

"That doesn't matter."

"You don't seem like the type to make that offer. I thought you'd prefer to be alone."

"I do, but I can make an exception for my soulmate."

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt the witcher #geralt of rivera #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt angst #geralt hurt/comfort #geralt oneshot #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher soulmate au #soulmate au #the witcher angst #the witcher hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia soulmate au #witcher #the witcher fluff #the witcher fic

[bethdutten]

Another geralt angst prompt

Jaskier And the reader are always teasing eachother but one day Jaskier takes it too far and hurts the reader’s feelings and Geralt is lowkey in love with the reader so of course he’s gonna defend her and now Geralt gets into it with Jaskier just to protect his lady

oooo ok lil angry/jealous/possessive/protective geralt?? here for it.

You constantly teased Jaskier, and he did the same to you. It was all done in jest, and it certainly added a bit of amusement to the long journeys you took, when you were lucky to get a hum out of Geralt. He knew you meant well, and you knew Jaskier never intentionally tried to hurt your feelings.

Until he did, albeit unintentionally. You were sitting around the campfire, Geralt across from you poking at the flames and Jaskier beside you, tweaking the strings of his lute and trying not to cry out in exasperation at how you were completely missing the heart-eyes Geralt was making at you, once again.

“You’re really quite dense, you know that?” He muttered, and at first you thought he was talking to himself. Then he turned and met your eyes, raising an eyebrow. “For someone with such intelligence, it amazes me how stupid you can be some times, love.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. “And what stupid thing have I done now?”

You missed the way Geralt’s eyes flickered to your nonchalant touch to Jaskier, brows furrowing.

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed, watching his friend carefully. Ah. So this is how he’s going to have to play it.

He just hoped you would forgive him when you both finally got when you clearly both wanted all thanks to him.

“Back during the fight with the drowner, you imbecile. When you dropped the sword and almost got Geralt’s head cut off?”

“That was my mistake,” Geralt said interjected softly, loud enough for you to hear.

But you kept your eyes on Jaskier, because you had been thinking the same thing for hours and hearing someone else say it cut a little too close. “But he didn’t.”

Jaskier shook his head, playing a few notes. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, my girl. Don’t know why else we would keep you around, all you do is put us in danger and get in the way,” he chuckled, but the sound was immediately cut off with a strangled cry before you even knew was was happened.

Geralt had Jaskier by the throat, held up against the tree he was leaning on. “We keep her around because we need her, her beauty is just a bonus,” he snarled, fangs showing as he tightened his grip and ignored the way Jaskier was pawing at his hand. “Apologize.”

It took you a long second to realize what Geralt was doing, and by then Jaskier was sputtering as he attempted to get air back into his lungs, looking at you with apologetic eyes. 

“Geralt, that the fuck is wrong with you? It was a joke! Put me down!” Jaskier’s voice was rough, and he choked out another noise of panic.

Geralt dropped Jaskier as quickly has he had grabbed him, and you knelt beside a wheezing pile of bard as you watched the witcher stalk off into the woods.

“What the fuck?” you hissed, checking Jaskier’s neck and wincing at the angry red imprint of fingers already forming. “Jask, that was such an overreaction, I’m sorr-“

“No, he’s right, I crossed a line,” Jaskier argued, voice slightly hoarse. “I was just trying to provoke him. You know we say these things in jest.”

You frowned, leaning back on your knees. “What do you mean, provoke him?”

Jaskier gave you another one of those looks, and sighed. “Maybe you really are that stupid.”

You smacked his chest, but the question of why that was about Geralt at all took the fire out of it. Why would Geralt care if Jaskier was teasing you? Even if it did hit a little close to home, since when did he care?

Then you recalled how he said we need her and the word beauty thrown in there somewhere.

You reached into your pack and pulled out a small satchel, passing it to Jaskier. “Tea for your throat. Can’t do anything about the bruises, but this should help your pretty little voice in making us some coin by tomorrow.”

Jaskier grumbled a thanks, but you were already up and headed in the direction of where Geralt had left, determined to ask him why he acted that way.

You found him brooding next to a clearing, the moonlight mirrored on his hair and making him look as flawless as any sculpture you’ve ever seen. Approaching carefully, you made a point of stepping over a few twigs to announce your presence despite knowing he would have heard you no matter what. Call him the White Wolf, but he was as skittish as a kitten when he was like this.

“Geralt? What was that?” you asked quietly, coming to sit next to him.

He avoided your eyes, sharp yellow irises focused on the mossy ground as he answered. “He’s not allowed to say those things about you.”

Your mouth dropped open, but you shut it with an audibly snap. “We say those sorts of things to each other all the time, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that if he tells you we don’t want you around often enough you might start to believe it.” His eyes met yours, and his voice was low and harsh, like he was angry at something but he wouldn’t say what.

You flinched slightly, and you saw Geralt immediately soften his features, a hand hesitantly hovering in the arm towards you before he dropped it back to the ground. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

“Then start telling me you want me around,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder some spell that seemed to be locking you two together would break. Was it possible that Geralt felt the same way as you did? He was so stoic, cold even, never betraying how he felt. But the way he snapped at Jaskier… that couldn’t mean something, could it?

Geralt kept his eyes on yours, visibly swallowing as his mouth opened to speak. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for just a moment, and you waited—

He abruptly cleared his throat, standing up. “Doesn’t matter what I want. You can leave whenever.”

You pulled yourself up, frowning. “You want me to go?”

Geralt grunted, heading back to camp. You felt something break inside you, just needing him to say those three fucking works after almost a year of travelling together and still not knowing where he stood with you. I need you. Why was that so hard?

“Geralt!” you called out, rushing to keep up with his rushed steps. “Why can’t you say it? Why can’t you just admit that you—“

“That I what?” he hissed, suddenly turning on his heels and grabbing your arms when you stumbled against him, too close on his tail.

Your hands found their way to his waist, clutching on to the fabric of his shirt as you steadied yourself. You frowned, daring to meet his eyes. “Admit you want me around. That you may actually enjoy my company. That you might…” you paused, biting your lip. That was a sentence only he could finish.

And it looked like he was going to. Geralt’s hands slid from your upper arms to your shoulders, further to stroke up your neck as he carefully cradled your face in his hands. You stopped breathing, unable to take your gaze off those mesmerizing honey eyes as you prepared yourself to finally hear the words you’d been waiting to hear. Because you’d say them back without hesitation.

“You can leave anytime you want. I won’t stop you.”

Then he dropped his hands, turned and headed back towards where the smoke was billowing up from the campfire, and didn’t stop to see the way you crumbled to the ground and wept.

#geralt x reader #henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt angst #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt oneshot

[spielzeugkaiser]

Season 3 really brought the S1 Geraskier vibes back for me and I can't really explain why or how, but I just love it 🥺 they are deep in their cups (well. Jaskier is!) meanwhile Ciri under the cut:

They are very cute but she is tired. CIRI HAS SEEN THINGS

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #art #I have been reading some post S1 oneshots again #GOOD TIMES

[princessaxoxo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Masterlist 　ﾟ･｡🌷͙֒

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 💌

𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 ˚₊‧꒰ა 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ✿ 𝘢𝘰3 ✿ 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 ✿ 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘯

𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 - 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥-𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.

𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵

𝓖𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪

𝓜𝓲𝓴𝓮

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽

𝓐𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓻

𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓼

𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷

𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝔂𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷

𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷/𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓲 𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓯𝓯

𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻: ꕤ 𝓈𝓂𝓊𝓉: 🍒 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉: ❦

#henry cavill #masterlist #oneshot #short story #henry cavill fandom #drabbles #mini series #geralt of rivia #clark kent #sherlock holmes #mike hellraiser #geralt x reader #mike x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #clark kent x reader #henry cavill x reader #first post #walter marshall x you #henry cavill smut #fluff #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill sherlock holmes #august walker #night hunter #angst #smutty #clark kent x you #clark kent smut #charles brandon romance #charles brandon fanfiction

[redskull199987]

Of Thoughts and Actions

Jaskier x fem!reader  word count:0.9k Warnings:spoilers for season 3, apart from that just fluff Summary: You didn't see your friend Jaskier for a long time, since he split up from your group after the events at Kaer Morhen. So, when Geralt suggested that you ask the bard for help, you were more than happy to see your singing friend again… Masterlist

You watched the scene in front of you unfold with a smile on your face. Jaskier´s sweet voice was slowly lulling Ciri to sleep, after you had spent the evening playing cards against each other. Jaskier, of course, had lost all of his money to the young girl. Finally seeing her smiling again, having fun again, after all she's been through lately, made you feel like it was still worth fighting for. For Ciri, and her future. “What are you thinking about?”

Your head shot up, as Jaskier suddenly stood in front of you, his slender frame towering above you. “Just thinking about our journey so far”, You mumbled, as you slowly stood up, starting to gather the plates at cups from the small table you had been playing cards at, until a few minutes ago. “Anything in particular?”, Jaskier smiled, as he helped you clean up, picking up a plate. “Oh, maybe the one time, Geralt and I saved your ass?”, you chuckled, playfully hitting his arm. Jaskier mockingly opened his mouth, acting like he was utterly shocked by your words.

“Fine then”, he mumbled, stepping closer to me,”Remember when I taught you how to dance, that one particular evening where you had too much ale?”

You felt your cheeks redden, as you remembered how much of a fool you had made yourself. even Geralt had laughed at your sloppy dance moves, and Geralt never laughed, ever.

Jaskier had seemed to notice your discomfort and slowly stepped closer. He looked down at you for a second, before carefully grabbing your hands. “You know, I always thought you were the most beautiful Dancer, I had ever seen in my life.”, he smiled, causing you to blush even more. Since when were you so easily flushed? You were a great fighter, that had been through many battles along with your companions. But  now you were a blushing mess in front of the smiling bard. When you didn't say anything in return, Jaskier just continued to recount the story:”Not because you were the best at dancing or the most experienced, but because you enjoyed yourself. You were having fun to no end, just being yourself. That's what I´ve always loved about you, Y/N.” You were speechless at this point. You always knew that what you felt for Jaskier was different than what you felt for Yennefer or Geralt. It was more than friendship. But you never believed that he was feeling the same way, in fact you still didn't believe it. 

Against all your better judgement, you slowly pulled your hands away from Jaskier and excused yourself, saying that you needed some fresh air. And within seconds, you had left the small hut, stepping out into the night. 

Taking in a deep breath, you looked up admiring the stars that glistened in the sky. Upon seeing your breath come out in small huffs, you realised how cold it was. You slowly started walking around a bit to conjure some warmth, but it had no effort. After two laps around the hutt, you were still shivering. You debated going back inside for a second, but you didn't quite know if you were ready to talk to Jaskier again. 

The decision was made for you, as you felt how Jaskier´s coat was being wrapped around you. The purple material easily engulfed your form, preventing you from shivering. You turned your head to see said bard standing behind you, one of his hands was resting on the small of your back, as he wrapped the coat further around your form. “Thank you.”, you mumbled, looking back down. “You seemed cold”, he smiled, now stepping in front of you. His hands came up to adjust the collar around you. You felt his touch linger, as his bright eyes shifted towards your face. “Y/N”, he suddenly said. His hand rose to gently caress your cheek. Slowly leaning into his touch, you listened to his shallow breathing to calm yourself down.

“Jaskier.”, you finally said, looking up at him. He only sighed, seemingly not really knowing what to say:”I-I havent been honest with you,Y/N” “About what?”, you uttered quietly. He didn't say anything for a second, just staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I really want to kiss you.”, he suddenly blurted out. You only smiled at him:”then do it.”

It only took Jaskier mere seconds to press his lips to yours. You felt his hands pulling you closer by the waist, as he deepened the kiss, his lips softly working against yours. Only as you parted, you actually realised what had just happened. Yours eyes widened, as you looked at his dreamy face. “I've wanted to do that for ages”, he admitted. A smile crossed your lips at his words:”I´m glad that you finally did.” “Oh I could kiss you again a thousand times, my love”, he chuckled, slightly squeezing your waist. “I wouldn't have a problem with that”, you whispered, before connecting your lips with his once more. Bonus: Ciri´s eyes slowly fluttered open, as the soft sunlight hit her face. Upon sitting up in her bed, she started to look around the room in search for her two friends. She expected them to be in their separate beds, still sleeping but Ciri couldn't help but to smile at what she saw in front of her. Right there, just a few metres away from her, you and Jaskier were huddled up together in the tiny bed. She could barely see your smaller form, as Jaskier was laying on top of you, his head resting on your chest. “I knew it”, she mumbled to herself, before slowly getting up to get ready for the day.

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher edit #the witcher edits #the witcher ff #the witcher fanfic #the witcher os #the witcher oneshot #the witcher jaskier #jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x fem!reader #jaskier os #jaskier ff #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #yennefer of vengerberg #fanfiction #oneshot #the witcher season 3

[velvetcloxds]

if you're too shy- send me a character and a scenario and I'll write a little baby blurb for it

Geralt of Rivia falling in love with a beautiful chubby cottagecore healer, after she helps him, when he is wounded, please? Thank you!

SOFT HANDS | GERALT OF RIVIA

word count: 0.6k

warnings: plus sized reader, not specified per se but definitely implied

You woke up startled by a crash in your kitchen, looking around your room in tired confusion, trying to figure out the time by looking out through the rags you had weaved into makeshift curtains, it was not morning just yet, far from it, but the timing of the intrusion usually only meant one thing- your witcher was there. You stumbled from your bed, pulling one of your blankets with you, covering your nightgown as it did not aid you much in concealing your curves, thin it its design- Geralt never minded though.

"Geralt," you breathed, you were barely awake, stumbling slightly as you found your footing, already smelling him and you were glad that he had managed to bathe before breaking into your home, very considerate of him.

"Good evening, las," he was talking with his mouth full, busying himself among your wooden cabinets, it piqued your interest, making you speed up until you were next to him, his hands hard at work making some sort of stew. "Are you hungry?"

"Let me see first," you were very convincing, voice just soft enough to make him pause to give you a quick glance at his face, new scars, still bleeding as they stretched over the side of his forehead. "Are there more?" he nodded, grunting when you swatted his hands away from the knife and began pulling him to your washroom, the action only possible because of his willingness to follow you. You noted the burning candles he had arranged around the house, knowing you would need the light, always uneasy when he arrived in the dark.

He could not help the sort of amused tilt to his lips as you forced him onto a chair, struggling to remove his armor but he made no attempt to help you, enjoying the little huff and pout the struggle earned from you. When you finally managed to take it off, you threw it to the floor, giving him an unamused glare, not at all fooled by his faux innocent shrug.

You sat down in front of him, folding your legs and shifting the blanket over them, another huff was given as you dragged the bucket of water closer, taking one of the clean cloths from where you had folded them in a pile. Your cheeks burned as you scanned his torso, it was not right, was not fair for that matter that he had that effect on you- none of your other patients had, in fact, you prided yourself on being professional but only Geralt could make you flustered while cleaning his wounds.

"These are fresh," you noted, eyes averted from his as you dragged the wet cloth over his stomach, frowning lightly when he did not flinch. "You know, there are plenty of healers on the road, most if not all of them more suited to treat wounds such as yours," you were done with his chest, drying it with another cloth and wrapping it with strips of cloth that had been soaked in your homemade healing remedy.

"Hmm," a grunt, a familiar sound, a comfortable one. "I prefer coming to you," he stated and shifted lower, leaning his elbows onto his knees so you could easily access his face, a new surge of heat finding your skin at the eyes that soared over your features. "Your hands are the softest," he explained and you nearly pulled away from him, hands just barely keeping still as you wiped lightly at the scar on his face, the other hand gripping his chin to keep him still. "I also do not mind the view," he was being sly, daring, and extremely cruel as he breathed a light chuckle, not missing a single beat of your sporadic heart. "Nor the company," you paused, eyes falling to his without any control and you were stuck, entranced, unable to move or look away, only managing to break the daze when he cleared his throat.

"I assume it would be a waste of breath to ask you to be more careful?" you attempted a change in subject, following the same process as you did for his stomach as you finished up your work.

"Completely," he agreed and you wiped your hands, shaking your head in familiar disapproval as he simply enjoyed the very view he had traveled many miles for. "For what reason would I have for coming to see you if I were?"

"I should go and make myself decent," you dismissed the question, not surprised when he took your hand to help you stand, rough hands uncharacteristically gentle as his thumb brushed your wrist in his hold. "Do you have a place to rest for the night?" he shook his head, he dare not attempt to lie to you with words, tell you that Jaskier had booked the pair of them a room not far from your cottage, because truth be told he rather enjoyed you fussing over him, taking care of him, and he knew you did as well- so, who was he to take that chance from you?

"I was rather hoping you could spare me a room."

"Of course, I will prepare it while you clean my kitchen," he smiled, a true smile, one you had not had the chance to see before but you were grateful you could, it was lovely, dreamlike. He nodded in silent appreciation and agreement, looking down to where he still held onto your hand. "They truly are the softest that I had ever held," he told you and you were the one to smile, a shy smile, warm with affection as you tried to consider how you would survive a whole day with this man in your house when he was insistent on stealing your heart and your sanity.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x yn #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia blurb #geralt of rivia drabble #geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fanfic #monique's writing events #right where queue left me

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: The Witcher: Geralt Of Rivia- Brutal Life

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Wolf!Reader

Pov: Geralt

Warnings: Kissing, injured reader, fake monster sighting, camping, jaskier being his normal self, lone wolf, romance, fluff, dreaming.

Summary: A hurt wolf is marked as a monster so Jaskier and Geralt go to investigate. Geralt knows something is off though so he tries to be helpful.

WC- 2.0k

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers; Remember that Geralt of Rivia here on my page will continue to be written as if Henry Cavill is playing his character.

The Witcher Master List // Requests Master List

There was commotion going on just outside of the small town that we were staying in. Damn people and there need to intreput my dinner time. Jaskier was already apart of the drama happening outside. He came running back into the bar. “Jaskier what is it now?” A roll of my eyes gave tell to that small fact that I didn’t care or want to go outside to deal with commotion going on. 

“Geralt you just have to help these people. You’re the witcher for fucks sake.” Jaskier wasn’t kidding. He was dragging me or at least trying to drag me towards the door of the bar. “Jaskier would you stop it already.” I mumbled out. “I’m coming alright, are you happy now.” Just outside the door the dark and loud rumbles of a growl could be heard. My interest was peaked to say the least as people ‘ohh’ and ‘awwd’ at whatever monster they had decided stupidly to surround. 

By the time we got outside there was more then a gaggle of people surrounded it. Forcing it down into a tiny closed circle. “Oh the great Geralt Of Rivia here to save the day as always.’ A cocky old gente. I ignored him as I did with truly everybody in my life. “What seems to be the problem here?” I asked loudly into the crowd of people that was steadily growing. 

The ‘monster’ was ovibouly not that scary, or dangerous as the crowd drew louder and crazier with every passing second. The rambles of talking and screaming, and everything else that humans are so great at doing. The smallest of whimper I heard in the crowd of people. “Can angbody get their heads out of their asses and tell me what the fuck is going on.” I asked loudly, my voice moving through the crowd. 

A little girl is the one that answered me. Her voice was squeaky, and high pitched but she came forward. “Witcher it’s just a pour lonesome wolf, her leg is injured a little. She’s a whimpering mess over here.” The little girl said. I was impressed, but then the immediate stress of the world came crashing down on me. If that was so not a true monster then I wasn’t needed here, but the whimpers were so damn hard to ignore. 

“Alright gents and gals it’s time to get your noses into something else that isn’t this clear none monster.” My voice boomed loudly across the field. Their were sighs, and disappointing words flying in through the sky. The growling started as soon as the crowd cleared the field and I got closer. The closer I got the more protective the wolf seemed to get. Jaskier as always was whining behind me. “Geralt let’s just go if you say it’s just some wolf then theres no need to sit around and wait for it to bite on of us.” Jaskier blabbled out. There were many times I wished that I had told Jaskier to shut up, but going to do a task was better for me right now. 

“Why don’t you go gather our things from the bar, and Roach. I’m staying here to help this little one out.” I looked over my shoulder at Jaskier. There was an odd look on his face, then a shrug of his shoulders before he left the two of us in the field. The growled hadn’t stopped not even when I was talking to Jaskier.

 I turned my attention back to the wolf on the ground a growling and whimpering mess. I reached one of my hands out, “Y/n is that you?” The words pouring softly. Even strange to my ears. Her eyes were so damn familiar, and I hadn’t seen her in years… more then years. It felt like decades had passed. The last time I had seen her was when we were young children. Playing and before the world had separated us. The hand that I had reached out was getting closer and closer to being bite. 

“How about we try something different huh?” I suggested, she growled lowly, and kept her eyes on me the entire time. “How about if you want help you just have to follow us.” I wasn’t one for having tag alongs but Jaskier had broken that record, and the wolf well if she was Y/n then there was nothing I would do to help her. Jaskier returned everything in his hands. A small huff of frustration falling from his lips. ‘Are you fucking insane Geralt, I can’t go around having people think I’m just your servant.” With that Jaskier dropped every single one of the bag interlocked in his arms and fingers. I rolled my eyes and walked away from the wolf towards Roach. 

Petting her muzzle and then her mane. I turned and gave Y/n a knowing wink before walking towards the bleak basically dead treeline. Winter was on its way and the further we got away from the cold the happier that Jaskier would be. I kept an eye behind us as we travelled. Jaskier walking beside Roach, I kepther on the right track. “Who’s following us?” Jaskier prayed. I looked down at Jaskier. I wondered for how long had he been standing behind me, while I was talking to Y/n. “Nobody.” I clarified, as I got Roach back on the right path. 

By the time that night fell on the sky, and treeline disappeared behind the dark sky I knew it was time that we stop. The last tiem I had seen Y/n walking behind us was before the sun set, and I was purposely walking Roach slower then normal for Y/n to keep up with us. Yet another thing that Jaskier commented on. “Why are you walking Roach so slow? Is she sick? You aren’t going to put her down if she’s sick are you? I’ll kill you if you do.” Jaskier rambled on, and with that the first question was forgotten behind Jaskiers concern for the well being of the horse.

The moon was high in the sky when we finally managed to settle in the small camp that we had… that I had made for the two of us. I could Y/n far in the distance, close enough to the heat. Far enough away from being caught, or taunted by either on of us. A fire burning that crackled with each burn of leaf and stick. The most scariest thing for Jaskier was the wolf, she had come to camp. A limp in her walk and still forever staying far away. A full moon had just passed and so from what little knowledge I had on wolves I assumed she would be changing form tonight in the darkest of night. 

The wolf had decided that when of course she was comfortable she would join the camp. Jaskier being the scared little puppy he always was about everything wasn’t having it, and retreated to his sleeper. I tired my hardest not to laugh as Jaskier hurried away underneath the sheets of his cot. “If you feel comfortable, my lap is open for you to sit.” I muttered towards Y/n. Her ears peaked up, as she gave me a weary look. The truest of black eyes staring me down as I wondered what might happen. The growls had stopped, and the whimpers had began as Y/n walked on her paw. Small winces could be seen down her snout and with the curve of her brows underneath the prettiest fur I’d ever seen. 

I waited for what seemed like a few moments. Time passed and the fire crackled against the dark sky, I waited until I felt the softest of nudge on my hand. When I did look down it was Y/n, her paw was placed gently on my hand almost bracing herself on me. Her eyes watched me with intent, keeping everything in a close enough gaze. “Y/n just lay down I promise I wont hurt you.” She took only a few seconds before making the quick choice and snuggling into my lap. 

Warmth from her fur exploded into my clothing and skin. I wasn’t about tp pet her, but the closeness was enough for me. It had been so long that I hadn’t even thought of Y/n, but seeing her like this stuck in this form and hurt. My mind raced as I thought of what a cruel human being could have done this. The question popped into my head. Looking down at the curled up wolf in my lap her head rest on my thigh. “Who did this to you Y/n? You must tell me.” Gently the words flowed out soft around the edges and waiting for a response. 

She just looked up and then nuzzled her nose into my thigh. A wet imprint from her nose stained my trousers, and I wondered if she’s ever tell. If she’d ever get the chance to the mutter the name of the horrible, vile, straight up disgusting human had hurt her this way. I moved ever so slightly and took Y/n with me as I lowered myself into the cot. “For now we will sleep and tomorrow you will tell me who hurt you. We have much to discuss Y/n.” I whispered into the cold winters air. 

I dreamt that night for the first time in a long time. A small boy chasing a beautiful young girl. Her hair flowing in the wind before her mother had told her to cut it all off, or rather before the girl had taken a pair of shears to her hair and chopped it off at all sorts of angles uneven with each other. 

I watched as she grew into a beautiful women. With piercing eyes, and a beautiful smile that made me melt in the knees. The only women to ever bring me to my knees was Y/n, the girl that hadn’t thought about in such a long time. Even has I slept the smell of Y/n whafted into my nose. Dirty, blood, but a hint of rose, and lavendar. Calm was everything that Y/n was, she was peace next to me. 

In my dreams I saw a her standing there waiting for me, open arms and the widest smile on her face. Kind eyes that made you fell safe, I ran and ran as fast as my feet would let me. I wanted to feel the warmth of her body, the warmth of her heart pressed up against mine. When I reached her the batted breathe I let out felt like thousands of pounds being lifted off my shoulders. 

She was the one to kiss me. Y/n lips felt so soft, not chapped and cut like mine due to the work I did. Her hand coming to rest comfortalbing in my hair as she tug and pulled me close. No fighting for dominance within the kiss or teeth scrapping against each other. We weren’t haste for time, so we took it for what it was. A peaceful, calm, deep, and loving kiss. The first of many and the best for a first. I wished that I didn’t need air, and Y/n was all that I needed in order ot survive. Y/n was my life line. In her arms I feared nothing and wanted nothing more then to be there in that moment forever with her. 

A brutal life was one of waking up with her gone. Nothing was left behind as a guide of hope, just as she was here she had gone. As luck would have it for me I hope, Y/n might just come back into my life. “She went into the woods. If you move your ass you can catch up to her.” Jaskier yawned. “By the way she stole your coat. I think she might have shifted last night.” Jaskier mentioned, as I wiped the sleep from my eyes and hopped up. In search for maybe just the right person for me.

Completed on: 03/07/23

Posted on: 03/17/23

The Hero's-

#geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt of rivera #geralt of river x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fluff #the witcher fluff #geralt of rivia fluff #requested #requests #request #request answered

[cowboygenesis]

one: redanian ale | geralt x reader

part 1 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: blood, animal death, mild gore

word count: 3.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: i haven't posted a reader insert since middle school, but since ive been getting into the witcher again recently i thought this would be a fun project :) ill try my best to keep everything canon, especially pre-existing characters, but some things will be made up! additionally, the reader is written to be afab. keep that in mind since there will be smut in the future chapters...

Geralt stepped down the element-worn cobblestone road with a quiet huff, Roach trailing alongside the man’s figure with a seemingly matched sense of fervor.

The homes of the outskirts lined up in tight rows, alternating between maintained and otherwise decrepit wooden skeletons of a once lively hearth. Every stained-glass window emanated a warm light from within, casting onto the solemn sidewalk that led into the main square. Similar structures surrounded the tiled area, adorned with wooden plaques representing various businesses: a butcher, blacksmith, herbalist; something typical of towns on the continent.

It was a chilly afternoon, and the amber treeline of the backdrop was a colorful testament to the arrival of autumn’s harvest. The edge of the cracked pavement carried a lively array of wildflowers, growing sparsely out of the famously fertile earth of the region. It was strange, seeing such an abundant land give birth to such impoverished people. They swarmed the town in a hurry, cloaked in rags and somber faces, occasionally turning to gaze up at the flaxen-haired man with abhorrence, hatred, and curiosity.

Their sunken features flooded the street in the silent mayhem of impotence, weathered muscles bravely carrying the weight of their harvest into the beating heart of the city.

Coarse linen bags lined the trunks of carts for the lucky few being able to afford such transportation, others tried their strength at stacking the burden on their dominant shoulder. A permanent slouch was often a good way to identify the economically wounded. He furrowed his brow at the thought.

The cool air nipped gently at Geralt’s nose, fingers numb as they tightened around the leather horse reigns. His pace quickened, strides bold and purposeful as he spotted the centerpiece of town above the bobbing crowd ahead.

The cobblestone smoothed below his feet, transitioning into a sleek brick that led into the hexagonal center of town. People swarmed out of the tight street and quickly dispersed along various stalls lining the courtyard, allowing Geralt’s lungs to expand with fresh breath once more.

His eyes scanned along the walls, noting the uniform architecture of homes surrounding the plaza. Up ahead, sticking out like a not-so-sore thumb, stood the main attraction of the town. Its broad structure spanned significantly further than any surrounding shop, walls towering high into the third floor.

The off-white plaster was embellished with masterfully painted embroidery: a composition of roosters, red flowers, and various greenery; a traditional kind of adornment in these parts.

Unlike the other businesses, this particular building adorned a shiny, metallic plaque by the heavy-set doorway. It was written in a foreign language, carved into the slate in mechanically-even letters. Geralt approached this unfamiliar sign, fastening Roach to the wooden fencing to the side and leaving her with a soft pat on the muzzle. She neighed in response, a sound debatably considered sentient and acknowledging.

“Won’t be long, girl,” He reassured with a half-smile, adjusting his harness before stepping through the doorway.

The tavern air was drastically different from the outside world, hitting his complexion with a soothing warmth as the soft scent of baked goods and freshly poured ale filled his nostrils. The sensation scored a subtle smile from the witcher, hand swiftly unclasping the twinned holster of his weaponry.

He hummed lowly, scanning the crowd of people in sight: drinking, singing, dancing; warm bodies moving in rhythm to the upbeat ballad of a female bard taking center stage with her polished flute. A song about a lost love, druids, bloodshed. Geralt had recognized it from one of Jaskier’s performances, noting how polarizing the tune sounded with a change of instrument.

He continued walking alongside the wall, finally deciding to take a booth seat near the tinted windows of the northern wall. He propped his equipment against the table, positioning himself closest to the wall. The stained glass poured a soft light onto the scratched surface of his table, outlining every crevice and mug stain with a brilliant azure.

“Welcome to ‘the Manticore’, may I take your order?” Came a quiet voice, somehow bleeding into the chaos of the bustling tavern despite coming from his immediate right. Geralt turned his gaze towards it, eyes met with a pair of rheumy eyes.

A doe.

So was the witcher’s immediate thought at the sight of the skittish-looking servicewoman taking his order.

Her skin looked pallid, almost greyish in the soft light of the candlelight, cheeks pudgy yet somehow betraying her otherwise ghastly appearance. The subtle spread of freckles on her cheeks was the only memory of livelihood in the sunlight, spreading to her temples and ending in a single mole above the girl’s untamed brows. They were thick, straight, and resembling a man’s with how unkempt they appeared.

She held her fists firmly against the dip of her hips and her spine declined forward, giving the woman a folded, relaxed posture; a strange mix of confidence merging with a subtle sense of doubt reflected her apparent social abstinence.

“Redanian ale,” He spoke back, arm extending to rest on the plush couch, gaze wandering.

He first took note of the woman’s boots, how worn the leather seemed with the dried mud still clinging to the nooks and crannies of the laces. Her worn, moss-green blouse shamelessly revealed a perched bosom, held up artificially by the corset hugging her waist snuggly, perhaps uncomfortably.

Finally, he caught the attention of the silver amulet that lay comfortably against the flushed skin of her chest, embellished with a large, iridescent crystal sat in the middle. An opal, maybe a moonstone. It felt out of the ordinary, gleaming with a bright light that seemed to come from within the stone itself.

“You should be wary with that kind of necklace in your ownership,” Geralt warned under his breath, chin dipping to subtly signal towards the girl’s jewelry.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the comment, though her gaze instinctively followed his own. She brought a hand up to toy with the pendant, letting the metal move between her fingertips as if it were her first time seeing it.

“Oh, this old thing?” She questioned, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice as she held up the amulet, “It’s a fake, just a trinket I keep around,”

Despite her reassurance, the witcher’s comment seemed to have fuelled the baseline suspicion a barmaid would hold towards most customers. Simultaneously, she seemed genuinely inquisitive about the man’s opinion, her brow perched high on her forehead.

Her pinky traced along the side of the silver base, running down an array of intricate engravings carved into the metal by hand.

“Looks expensive. Different kinds of folk hang around these parts, you’d know best,” Geralt continued, tone flat yet assertive.

He never once meant to threaten the girl but rather tried offering a kind piece of advice based on his own experiences with such riches. Her prideful display of such an eye-catching jewel could land her in more trouble than she could have expected. His curiosity threw her demeanor off, eyes trailing to her feet. A moment passed without contact, then another.

“That’ll be it, girl,” he hummed, attempting to brush her presence off with a final word to the conversation. She shook her head left to right, almost like exiting a trance, and nodded at him hurriedly. Her nose tinged rouge. She turned heel, boots squeaking as she made her way through the boisterous crowd and back towards the bar.

The man allowed his gaze to linger on the girl until she disappeared into the sea of other bodies, huffing at the comfortable feeling of solitude once again. He let himself sink into the seat below. His eyes turned to study the crevices of the oak table he resided at, keen eyes suddenly focusing on something in the distance.

A raven-haired man sat hunched down at an adjacent booth, head clad in a pristine cloak that clasped off at his chest. The witcher stared back in an unspoken manner of competition, his watchful gaze scanning each visual intricacy the man had to offer. The pigment in his robes was intense and rich, an exotic indigo staining the thick linen, lined with silver thread that connected at the neck with a metallic amulet. It might have been adorned with small studs and jewels, from his position Geralt could not tell for certain.

His pale hands perched atop a leather-bound book surrounded by scattered cards, at least two decks. The fingers were scrawny, bony, wrapped in intricate rings that reflected the same blue light of the stained glass. His eyes bored into Geralt with a certain might, pools of sapphires flickering with candlelight.

They both lingered that way endlessly, both trying to intimidate the other into looking down, a gentle admit of defeat. The man smiled.

“And… there we go,” Came that one quiet voice again, accompanied by the dull tap of a glass mug placed firmly on the table. “Can I get you anything else?” it continued as Geralt made a last-ditch effort to squint at the cloaked man in the back of the room. He seemed satiated by this exchange, quickly returning to shuffling a fresh deck of cards sitting just beside his ale.

“…Hello?” The doe-eyed girl waved her hand to Geralt with a confused look on her sunken face, thick eyebrows furrowing with a twitch of her upper lip.

He turned his gaze towards her, quickly noticing the sudden emptiness around her chest— the amulet was gone. She must have taken his words to heart, or perhaps, more unfortunately, found them to be a kind of veiled threat towards her well-being. The skin of her chest was reddened, maybe hot to the touch.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” She said matter-of-factly. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden inquiry, otherwise maintaining his demeanor. It wasn’t so unusual.

“That’s right,” he replied tactfully, fingers tracing the handle of his mug before gripping it tightly and taking a hefty swig. The alcohol hit his throat with a delicious burn, trailing down the throat and leaving a tinge of plums and spice in its wake.

With a look as infamous as his, Geralt was undeniably used to being spotted out, even in the smallest of hamlets such as Posada. He didn’t mind the musings of others, as most of his encounters happened to be quite harmless and an inconvenience more than anything. He decided to enjoy his drink in peace and allow the girl to ask any questions she might be curious about. If he got lucky, the conversation could score him a new contract; Gods knew that was the kind of excuse he needed to occupy himself for the upcoming days.

“My, my…” The woman whispered, eyes widening a fraction as her fingers began skimming the edge of her apron in contemplation. There was an air of anticipation surrounding her, as if eager to ask about his dangerous lifestyle but abstaining for the fear of rejection. Same old.

“That makes you a frequent traveler, doesn’t it?” She piped up squeakily, clearing her throat after.

“Somewhat,” Geralt replied dryly, aiding his parched tongue with another swig of the drink. Exactly what he ordered, surprisingly. The girl didn’t bother cheating her way out of extra coin.

“And why do you find yourself in Posada, witcher?” the girl questioned, bright-eyed. Her hips twisted towards him, legs shuffling back and gently resting against the frame of the booth opposite to him. Geralt huffed, placing his ale firmly on the oak below. His face remained in its neutrality.

“Not staying long,” he mumbled with a backhand to his upper lip, cleaning the wetness from it with a smooth swipe. He spotted the barmaid’s coy gaze looking down as she swiftly positioned herself on the seat. When she looked up again, their eyes met.

There was a scar on her temple, kissing the hairline of the frizzed locks growing there. It looked well-healed with time, the weathered strip of skin standing out with the raised edges of its pale, pearlescent grove.

“Just for a rest I assume, then?” she smiled softly, the scar curving with the movement of her muscles. Geralt nodded. Her gaze seemed to falter at that but sharpened a mere second later.

“Just a drink, not much else to get done around here,” he spoke lowly, taking a knowing glance around the tavern; townsfolk swarming the bar in rugged clothing, some barefoot, all baring sunken faces. “Seems like it’s not monsters your town needs helping with,” he scoffed.

The barmaid’s eyes followed Geralt’s gaze, but she seemed to refrain from commenting. Her bony fingers clamped into loose fists before dropping to her lap. She moistened her lower lip with a slow flick of the tongue, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She stayed silent for a moment, contemplative, then suddenly perked up with a furrowed brow.

“We’ve got monsters, witcher,” the girl mumbled. Geralt’s brow twitched at the comment, but he gave her a nod in recognition. She nodded back. “Something’s been killing off the townsfolk in the night when they go foraging,”

“Foraging? Why at night?” he questioned.

“For Mooncaps. They fluoresce in the dark and so are easier to spot that way; we use them for skin salves, tea, that kind of thing,” the girl explained, “They grow in the woods.”

“Mooncaps…” the man acknowledged, “And the foragers, how certain are you that they haven’t just lost their way back?” Geralt pressed on, fingers tensing around the handle of his mug.

“Rescue teams have been sent out before, but they never come back,” the girl said, “Sylvanus was the only one to make it home in one piece. After the fifth expedition, there were no more volunteers left. We didn’t want to risk any more casualties, you know? I grew up there, too. But I don’t dare go back now, not after I’ve heard the rumors,” she continued.

“Sylvanus?” Geralt interrupted, feeling the name out on his tongue. It sounded foreign to the land, but unfamiliar to him personally. The barmaid nodded.

“He’s this witch-hunter from Temeria. Well, that’s what he says, anyway,” she breathed out, eyes squinting, “He’s not from around here, you’d from the things he wears. Nice things, well-fit and expensive. Arrived one night and asked for the largest room we had, room seven. That must’ve been a whole month ago by now,”

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze focusing on the table he had been examining beforehand. Nothing. The cloaked figure was gone, leaving behind a vacant table and that deck of cards.

“We’ve got spare rooms, plenty of them. I could arrange one for you if you’d like, maybe a hot bath to go with it,” the barmaid piqued in with the same smile, soft and genuine as her gaze seemed to bore into the witcher’s own eyes. She pursed her lips, anticipating an answer, perhaps one in favor of her declaration.

Geralt used a gloved finger to tap the wooden surface of the table, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still. “I’ll camp out,” he declared, hand raising his mug as the last drops of ale trickled down his throat. He still felt parched.

“As you wish,” the girl nodded, a glint in her eye as she reciprocated with a polite smile. Her arms stretched across the padding of her seat, relaxing her muscles before she swiftly stood up. Her hand grabbed onto the upper rim of the empty mug, removing it from the table with a huff.

“It’s on the house. Thank you for helping out,” she added quietly, smiling.

“Hold your appreciation, girl. I haven’t done anything to earn it just yet,” Geralt replied, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. It was airy and warm. Her half-lidded gaze met his own.

“You’ve offered your kindness, it’s all I could ask for these days,” she replied quaintly, taking a few steps back while her fingers tampered with the iron handle of the mug. She looked down briefly, then back up. Her smile had disappeared.

“Geralt,” he responded half-mindedly, out of habit. He assessed the name she had given him carefully, letting it echo in his mind.

“Farewell, then, Geralt,” she giggled once more, sounding somewhat bubbly at the reveal. Her smile stretched wider this time, revealing a pair of dimples adorning each flushed cheek with a shallow grove. She nibbled at her bottom lip, breathing in deeply before turning away, yet she held her gaze with his, somewhat determined to keep the witcher’s attention. She whipped around, her overskirt twirling gracefully around her hips before she leaped away. Geralt caught one last glance of her locks before she disappeared into the crowd again.

He breathed out, eyes closed tightly. His meeting with Ciri would have to wait another day while he took care of the monster plaguing this off-road town. He imagined it to be a Noonwraith, maybe a Werewolf in the worst case. It would be dirty work, but quick, and perhaps the town could spare a decent amount of coin for putting an end to their unfortunate endeavors.

The man stood up with a grunt, eyes scanning the crowds of clientele once again. His mind tried focusing on a certain head of raven-black hair amongst the sea of bodies, but his efforts were fruitless. The witch-hunter was gone, or at the very least in hiding… perhaps somewhere nearby. Geralt recalled the barmaid’s testimony, how she confessed they had rented the man a room just a few nights back.

The witcher’s eyes shifted to the broad staircase at the edge of the room, oddly empty and lit dimly by candlelight adorning the wall. He walked over in a few smooth strides, eyes narrowed and focused. He set his boot on the first stair, hearing it creak pathetically under his boot. He climbed another, another, continuing til the very top.

The gleeful tune of the lute sounded muffled and dull at this level, reverberating through the walls and getting eerily distorted in the process. Geralt lurked down the hallway, passing wooden doors adorned with handmade numbers and watching for light seeping through the gap where the planks met the floor.

He stopped suddenly, faced with number ‘7’. His gloved hand reached to grip the doorknob slowly, but with a firm squeeze, he twisted. To his surprise, it was open.

He stepped in, nose catching the vivid aroma of rosemary and myrrh. It carried in the air heavily, a thin stripe of smoke weaving through the air and connecting at the tip of an incense stick sat on a desk to his left. It was messy, clattered with books and one-off documents stained with slim rings of plum and violet.

“There you are,” came a gravely, monotonous sound. Geralt turned to face it, his eyes met with sapphire ones. They were bulbous, almost too large for the socket, threatening to pop out at any moment. The intensity made the witcher stay put. “Geralt of Rivia!” the man exclaimed theatrically, arms extending wide as he made his way from the bedside mirror. Geralt realized he hadn’t noticed the man when he entered.

“And you are?” the witcher asked firmly.

“You know my name,” the man replied, a smile adorning his lips. There was a thick scar running across them, connecting to his right brow.

“Sylvanus, is it?” Geralt replied, deciding to back into the doorway with his backside. Hearing the hinges squeal as they shut, Sylvanus seemed to relax. His mulberry cloak fluttered as he moved closer, head low. The whites of his eyes were glazed, shimmering like tiles of water. “There’s a monster roaming the woods, I’ve been told you know of it,”

“Certainly, yes,” He replied diplomatically, moving soundlessly to take a seat by the cluttered desk. The incense was shriveled now, copper tray piled with ash. “You’d like to know of this beastie? It was relentless. Ghastly and pale and crimson, drenched in innocent blood. Female in appearance and winged, like succubi,” Sylvanus explained, hands flailing wildly as he recalled the creature’s looks. His tone was low. “It is quite a miracle I made it out with all my limbs still intact,” Sylvanus sighed amongst dramatics.

“It seems we’re dealing with a harpy,” Geralt replied with a nod, hands now placed firmly on his hips as he watched the man before him go dark in the face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bulging as he approached in a swift stride. He pointed a long finger at the witcher’s chest, gaze holding his fervently.

“That is no ordinary harpy, witcher,” the man hissed, offended at the mere suggestion of it. “I’ve seen nothing like it. This is no ordinary occurrence, I’ve come to realize…” Sylvanus carried on, retracting his arm that slivered under his cloak like a snake returning to its lair.

“This town, you’ll learn to know, is cursed. Plagued,” he finished slyly, almost hostile in his manner.

Geralt sighed at the man’s warnings, eyeing his lowly figure as it trailed back to the padded armchair by the desk. His snake-like arm slid out once more, thin and splotchy. It grabbed a match, striking it quickly against the table’s surface to illicit a pale flame that he used to light a fresh incense stick with. The room became smokey within seconds, a thin veil of grey dancing in the light breeze of the window open ajar. When he was done, Sylvanus tossed the match to a pile of similarly decrepit ones.

“If you want to know how I survived, well,” he trailed, “the beastie is weak to light. It fears daytime, sunlight, fire… anything that burns,”

“How did you find out?” Geralt questioned,

“Trial and error,” Sylvanus shrugged with a grin, eyes squinting. He slumped into the chair, tossing and turning until he seemed comfortable. “It only comes out on moonless nights, that’s when it goes out to feed,” he added. Geralt nodded, stopping for a beat to let the man continue on his tirade, but there was nothing else he wanted to say. His focus had now shifted to an opened book on the desk, his fingers skimming through the pages feverishly.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyeing the man once more before turning around to leave. “Thanks for the info,”

“Don’t make yourself allies in Posada, Geralt,” a voice called out behind him, deep and dark. “It might just turn on you,”

Geralt halted. He nodded, head tilting but not enough to catch the man’s figure again. The witcher shuffled away silently, shutting the door behind him with a ‘click’ of the hinges. A soft shuffling came from within, cloth rubbing against cloth and stacks of papers being ripped frantically, in a strange hurry. The flaxen-haired man let the commotion unfold without interruption.

He spotted an ornate window peeking outside, his eyes squinting at the bright lights of the colors flickering around the main square. It was getting late, and he would have to make camp soon. His feet stomped down the flight of stairs, faded music coming back in full effect.

He took note of the blonde-headed bard singing her heart out, and the slowly declining yet continuously vast crowd of townsfolk swarming the vivid scene. His gaze trailed to the bar instinctively, hovering over about a dozen heads that he knew instantly didn’t include the one he sought out.

A soft breath escaped his chapped lips, hands swiftly reaching for the cover of his cape’s hood. As the warmth of the tavern slowly faded from his body, Geralt felt his fingers ache in the cold of the night.

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher #my writing #cowboygenesis #smut #eventual smut #slow burn #magic #oneshots #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer

[ohhxdile]

Mysterious Man ☆ OS

∞ ₒ ˚ Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

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Words: 793

Summary: Typical night for you working in a Tavern that is also an Inn. But tonight is different, there is a strange man in the corner of the room

Warnings: reader pov, use of medieval words, reader as an accent

(A/N: oh my god! i didn't expect my first fanfic to get attention, idk how to thank you all 💕😭)

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I worked in this tavern for over years now. I’ve experienced many festivals, towns people's departure, new faces, mariage and even rivalry. We could call this quite the “experience”

But today was different, while a few drunk men were singing in the middle of the tavern, ripping their vocal cords and pouring ale on the floor. Messy customers that we didn’t really enjoy to serve, but they consumed the most. Something else was different. A blond-white haired man was sat at the corner of the tavern, a long black piece of linen covered his whole body, I couldn’t quite make out his apparence. 

The owner approached me while I was rearranging the barrels “The Witcher wants his pottage with boef” I stood up with a quirked eyebrow questioning him, he pointed quickly to the white-haired man. “Fine, sure” I sigh and put down the barrels I was occupied with, taking the wooden tray in my hand with the pottage and boeuf.

I walked to him and served him “Here is the pottage and boef, Mister asked” I took the empty vessel asking him if he wanted more to drink, he nodded and thanked me. I got to work and poured another drink for him.

Night was settling in, people were leaving, some bought a hall to sleep in. People were getting kicked out forcefully, typical day for a tavern that also works as an Inn.

My hands were sticky with all the type of ale and meals. I cleaned my hands while the owner cleaned a few vessels and plates. “Tonight was good” I smiled at him, when I turned my head, the empty barrels took my attention “Ah ya’ I forgot to refill them, Would ya please get the Pale Lager in the Undercroft?” I nodded and took in hand the empty Pale Lager and got working. I rummaged through all the cask, they were a lot of them, I quickly found the right one and filled in the empty cask. 

It was getting pretty cold in the tavern and I shivered a bit. Someone didn’t leave and It was the “Witcher” I quickly glanced at him and approached him “You’re leaving soon the village?” He raised his head at me and chuckled “I need to stay here for quite a while, people are asking me to solve a town problem.” His rough voice was like neumes to my ears, but soon after something bothered me in his sentence “a town problem?” I take a hold of his empty tankard and ask him “What? I never heard about a problem here before?” His eyebrows raised itself just like mines and we stared at each other.

Continuously we talk to one another, I understand what he means by “problem” there is a thief that is fliching money from ladies by making them buy deadly roses, what a complete disaster. I understood now why he would stay here for a while. “This is quite the story ya’ have” I chuckled to him and he shrugged off, raising his shoulders slightly. “It is my duty as a Witcher” The strange man was interesting, more than any menne I’ve meet along my years of working, he started ruffling through his piece of linen and gave me a sack of gold, I stared at him for approval and he made a sign with his hand. I opened the bag and counted the coins.

He had the perfect amount for the ale, pottage and boef he ate. I was pretty satisfied and thanked him. “My pleasure, the food here is gracious and the ale is smooth to the gullet” I blushed a bit, happy that he was satisfied. I took the bag of gold, content and walked to the owner giving him the coins.

Before leaving the Witcher came close to me, I looked up at him and he smiled, silence settled between us. I didn’t know what to say, but I was a tad busy with wipping the tables that I haven’t realised his eyes travelled around my figure. “Thank you again” I shrugged off his comment and said It was my pleasure. “I still haven’t asked your name” He mentionned and yes, I realised I never introduced myself to the stranger and I told him my name. 

He said my name, and the way It rolled on his tongue was mischievous I liked it. “My name is Geralt” I smiled hopping he wouldn’t see it since my head is lowered to the table in front of me. Suddenly dead silence and I lifted my head.

 Geralt was gone, he left the Inn with a souvenir and a warm welcome, and I was left with many questions in my mind and hoping that he would come back.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #reader pov #oneshot #henry cavill #medieval history

[shutuplilith]

the witch and her cottage, part 1 - geralt of rivia x reader

the witch and her cottage, part 1

ciri's pov. (takes place after the ending of season 1, episode 8. yennifer exists in this, but not as geralts love interest but as his best friend)

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"Geralt." "Hmm?" "Where are we riding to, exactly?" "We're going to visit an old friend." With that, our conversation came to an end. For two days already we had been roaming the lands, and if I hadn't been by Geralt's side, I was sure we would have gotten lost long ago. But his presence gave me security, as did Roach, his loyal bay mare, whom nothing could upset. Even if she hesitated once, Geralt's grumble calmed her down. We were approaching the sea. I could hear the sound of the sea getting closer, could feel the salty air on my lips and the stormy wind dancing in my hair and on my face. We left a small forest and arrived at a meadow. Only a few steps later did I realize that we were on a vast cliff. To our right, meadow and forest stretched, unperturbed and endless. But ahead of us, the meadow gradually narrowed. The wind continued to whip in my face and by now we were shrouded in a thick fog. The wind continued to whip, and we were surrounded by a dense fog. Nevertheless, I recognized a small building in the distance. I squinted my eyes and thought I saw light burning in the windows. The closer we got to the house, the more fiercely the wind raged, and Roach also became increasingly restless. " Calm down," Geralt murmured, but this time the mare was not so easily soothed. By now we were in the immediate vicinity of the house. It was a small cottage with many flowers and surrounded by a small stone wall. Finally I understood why Roach had been so nervous. In front of the house and behind the stone wall were several horses. They were staring at us as confused as I was at them. My gaze slid past the horses, and I spotted a young woman standing on the edge of the cliff behind her house. Her (y/h/c) were swirling in the wind, and her hands were moving through the air. We watched her for a while, and finally she lowered her hands, and the storm abruptly stopped. She turned around, and her lips formed a wide smile.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x f!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia oneshot #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia x you #roach

[fangirleaconmigo]

Rated Teen. Geraskier. Jaskier says I love you..

The first time Jaskier realizes that, despite appearances to the contrary, Geralt listens to him when he rambles on, he is pulling the pins from his hair and preening in the mirror.

"And then I said to him,” he rants, voice muffled from the hairpin in his mouth, “I said to him, I've written one that will have you crying and begging for your mother.” Jaskier spits out the hairpin and suddenly his voice is clear again just to utter the words, “you arrogant hack, you dickish dilettante,”

“That's Silver Winter, right?" Geralt cuts in.

Jaskier's hand stops where it is arranging a ringlet. He blinks and stares at Geralt in the mirror, as though his dear friend and object of his most passionate affection has transformed into a talking rat.

"What?" demands Geralt, sounding irritated. "Why are you looking at me like that?” Geralt’s hands idly pat down his hair and check his teeth for stray greens from lunch. It is only when he is checking his tunic for obvious stains that Jaskier clears up the mystery.

"Nothing! Nothing, Geralt. It’s just. You were listening."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "Every man, woman, and child in Posada is listening. You’re so loud you give no one a choice.”

"No,” Jaskier said slowly and thoughtfully. “I don't mean now. I mean. When I was talking earlier about that poem."

Geralt shrugs. "Yes. That's the one you wrote for the bardic competition in Gors Velen this spring. It starts off..." Geralt's eyes wander up until he is staring at the ceiling. "Right," he says, finally finding the words he is looking for. "It starts off...the cracks like frozen lightning...right?"

Jaskier slowly turns. He loses sight of Geralt in the mirror, then sees him fully as he looks at him head on. "I get to submit two poems for that competition." He says it as though he is testing the waters.

Geralt nods. "Right. The other one is A Rose Thicket." He says it as though he is reciting something well known. Something that should be obvious.

Jaskier blinks in disbelief, eyes wide with wonder and delight.

Geralt grunts. "Why are you gaping? Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

Jaskier plops down on the bed next to him, head still swimming from the revelation. “I don’t know, i suppose I’m just surprised is all.”

“What because I’m old? Witchers keep their minds and memories sharp well into their third century if Vesemir is any indication. See?” Geralt clears his throat and recites again from memory. “That's the bardic competition that's being judged by Valdo's old mentor, and you don't know whether that's a point for you or against you, since Valdo fucked him and who knows what kind of mess he left behind."

Geralt startles when Jaskier leans his head on his shoulder, the remaining hairpins jingling softly.

"I love you."

Jaskier says it as though it is easy. As though it’s normal. As though anyone outside of Kaer Morhen has said that to Geralt in years.

Geralt’s heart swells painfully and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling that he is bursting and will overflow. Impulsively, he kisses the top of Jaskier’s head, getting a stray lock of hair stuck to his lips and having to blow profusely to get it off.

Jaskier relaxes and even though Geralt cannot see his face from this angle, he can feel the smile on the bard’s face. Geralt does not know what to say, so he blurts out, “You have poor judgement."

Jaskier pinches his side and he yelps.

“I know.”

Geralt cannot hide the smile that plagues his face for the rest of the day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #i have not been normal #since the day I read in the books #that dandelion curls his hair sometimes #sorry #but Jaskier always has curls now #i don’t make the rules #descarada writes #descarada writes geraskier #tumblr oneshots for the witcher fandom

[sarahisslytherin]

two left feet || geralt of rivia

summary: there’s a festival in town, and you’re taking the witcher dancing whether he likes it or not. contains: nothing, just like, tooth rotting fluff. a/n: in mourning of the rightful geralt of rivia. *cough* fuck off gale *cough*

the chatter of the townspeople and clinking of cups rang through the tavern. your eyes widened in wonder as you took in the scene. couples danced merrily on the floor, old friends exchanged stories over drinks, booming laughs nearly drowning out the music. 

geralt’s figure loomed behind you like a shadow, a steady and protective hand on the small of your back as you weaved your way through the crowd, leading him towards an empty table.

“what fun!” you giggled as you sat down and the witcher took his place opposite you. “look at all the people!”

“hmm.” he huffed, eyeing the room cautiously.

“geralt.” you sighed. “lighten up, no one will pick a fight with you here. they’re too busy enjoying themselves, you ought to try it sometime.”

his lips curled into a smirk at that, amber eyes meeting yours. “is that so?”

“yes!” you laughed. “it’s a festival! a time to be festive! now, come, you old grump. dance with me!”

“no, no.” geralt shook his head, squirming away from your reach. “you can dance, i’ll watch.”

“like hell you will!” you insisted. “on your feet, witcher!”

“but-”

“no buts!” you hollered as you began to pull him into the crowd. you knew he hated this but you also knew he loved you, and if he could handle any sort of monster he could certainly handle one night of dancing.

“wait!” he called, and you stopped in your tracks. “i can’t.”

“why not?” you asked.

“i, i don’t know how to dance.” geralt admitted, his eyes falling to his boots, still covered in snow. “it’s foolish, i know. it’s only that you’re so graceful and lovely and i’m, clunky and a bit of a brute is all. i wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

your jaw must’ve dropped to the floor because soon enough he was giving you a look of annoyance. “don’t look at me like that.” he grunted in that voice of his.

“i’m sorry.” you couldn’t help but tease. “ i just never took the big, bad witcher for someone who cared about other people’s opinion.

“your opinion.” he corrected swiftly. “i care about your opinion.”

a smirk crept upon your face as your arms slithered around geralt’s torso. “you want to know my opinion, geralt?”

“hmm.” he grunted. you knew what he meant.

“i don’t give a shit that you’ve got two left feet.” you whispered for only him to hear. “i think you’re amazing in every aspect of the word, and i won’t go into detail for fear of your head getting even bigger than it already is.” he tickled you in the side for that.

“come, witcher. you can’t be good at everything.” you chuckled as he let you pull him onto the dance floor. he took the proper stance at first, your hand in his, a hand on your waist. but when the time came to move, it cost him. he was so large, and he couldn’t find the rhythm to save his life. you couldn’t help but giggle at the scene.

“don’t laugh!” he scolded you, chuckling himself.

��i can’t help it! you’re too adorable!”

“oh, shut up.” he pulled you in for a deep kiss, effectively shutting you up before trying once more. stubborn mule, you thought fondly. this time was a tad better, your bodies closer together and more in sync than before. the music was jovial, enough to put a smile on geralt’s face when you looked up at him, or perhaps it was you who had put it there. either way, he was smiling. 

tagging: @velvetcloxds​​​ @havenchy​​​ @leahsficemporium​​​ @gilmore-angel​​​ @mgcllovdrms​

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia oneshot #the witcher

[yandere-sins]

Hello hi how are you? could I please request a yandere geralt x sick reader? Perhaps they’re at kaer morhen for the winter and he’s just all overbearing and not letting them outside? Maybe locks them away to keep them from escaping despite the fact that all the witchers wouldn’t let you leave anyway?

Thank you you are an incredible writer! 💛

Thanks for requesting!

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If Geralt didn’t want to let you go before, he sure didn’t want to now.

You didn’t think his attention could be any more suffocating than he already was, but here he was, pinching your nose to make you eat just one more spoon—for the fifth time by now. You’d have screamed at him to stop if your mouth had not been full of sticky, unsweetened porridge. Then again, your throat was aching so much that you’d probably not have made that impressive of a sound.

Even when you sulked or fought before, Geralt would let you do your thing most of the day, content to just be by your side while sharpening his tools or fixing his armor. But you just had to fall sick, causing everything you worked so hard to achieve—mostly the small amount of independence of taking your meals as you pleased and ignoring him—to crumble into nothingness.

At the first cough rattling through your lungs, Geralt had plunged you into a sea of blankets, wrapping you as you struggled against him. The fever didn’t set in immediately, giving you some time to fight him. But it was too late; he had already changed. There was no longer this slightly defeated, puppy-eyed facade he had taken on after you indefinitely kicked him out of your bed. Neither was it the look of concentration he had when fighting monsters or hunting you through the forest. No, this was different. It was a deeply unsettling emotion to see, feeling like worry in the good moments and hysteria in the bad. As if he thought every cough would be your last, a mere cold enough to turn your place of rest into a deathbed.

It was ridiculous. Mind-boggling, annoying, overbearing ridiculous. You’ve had colds before, and given the stress you’ve been under for months, it wasn’t that far off to think you might catch one in the middle of winter. Especially not in the old keep Geralt had brought you to, chained you to the bed with a slit in the wall only big enough to reveal the snow storm outside and nothing else but cold drafts haunting your body. But he stocked the fireplace with fresh wood every few hours, brought you cups of tea and soups for dinner. Aside from missing walking around, you weren’t lacking anything you didn’t dispose of yourself, like you sometimes did with the blankets he offered you, just to piss him off. You weren’t going to die. Clearly, fate had terrible plans for you, but it probably wasn’t death by cold while Geralt was the one watching over you.

However, the unfortunate reality was that you could do absolutely nothing about your treatment. Not least because your fever had been running high for the last three days and your whole body ached so much you could barely move. If you could have, you’d have one hell of a time getting out of all the blankets Geralt forced on you, every limb securely and tightly wrapped so there was no chance of getting out on your own. You’d still have tried, simply because your discomfort was unreal, lying in your own sweat as doctors would suggest, and bruising from never changing position.

All while he kept shoving spoon after spoon of disgusting porridge into your mouth that had no taste on your tongue.

His eyes were dark, maniac. If not for the haze in your brain, you might have felt fear as you looked at him, but you could barely concentrate on swallowing, let alone at the threat sitting by your bedside. One day, he’d be the reason for your early grave. You were sure of it. If not because of his crazy idea of love, then the porridge.

“Geralt!” you croaked out, either spit or food mush dripping out of your mouth as you tried to gain his attention.

Immediately he seemed to snap out of his trance, and you sighed in relief internally, seeing his eyes grow light again, features softening but still showing his worry. The call of his name pleased him, even if he tried not to show it, and he inched closer to you so you wouldn’t have to speak too loud. Even if you hated him pitying you for what he was putting you through, it was good to know you could still talk to him if needed. Reaching forward, he wiped your mouth, bringing his thumb to his lips to lick it off in one disgusting declaration of affection before his hand fell to your forehead, feeling your temperature.

Unable to hold back, you sighed out loud, the coolness of his skin an instant relief to your body and soul despite him being the wrong person to feel thankful for. Nonetheless, you pushed yourself into his hand as best as possible, Geralt being kind enough to stay that way for a few moments more before retracting his hand, frowning. “You’re still burning up,” he noted factually, and you bit your tongue not to make a snarky remark about how you noticed that too.

Your eyes had closed initially, but now that his hand was gone, you forced one open, watching him. Things weren’t great between you. Not like they had been in the beginning. Everything had seemed so amazing in the honeymoon phase where you two enjoyed the time together, him helping you travel to your destination, keeping you safe. You tended to his wounds, and he stayed up to make sure you could sleep protected and comfortable. Kisses under the moonlight and laughter by the fire.

Why did it have to change?

Why didn’t he let you go when you two always knew it was just a travel romance? Why did he force you to continue accompanying him? Made you choose between trying to escape and probably be killed by monsters, or clean his wounds and take care of him, just so you’d be safe in the forsaken forests he brought you to? Lay by your side at night while you desperately tried to sleep, hugging you, smelling you, whispering confessions into your skin? And finally took you to this old, barely inhabited place that no one could rescue you from, chaining you to the bed and forcing you to stay with him this way? All in the name of love?

“I have a suggestion. I think it will lower the temperature.”

His eyes immediately grew dark, and you didn’t have the strength to blame him. Geralt didn’t like your suggestions consisting almost exclusively of “Let me go” and “Fuck off.” But if it truly was love, if he really felt anything for you aside from possessive, obsessive mania, then he’d hear you out. You took his silence for a cue to go on, explain yourself, thinking it might be one Geralt would not be too displeased about.

“Help me out of the blanket and--”

“No.”

Idea shut down immediately you snapped your mouth closed, glaring at him as best as you could even though everything was fuzzy. “You didn’t listen until the end,” you chided. It was as if the roles were reversed. Normally, you’d be the one to interrupt and disagree, even if you didn’t actually dislike his idea. It was just the principle. Just like it was his principle now to care for you as best as he knew.

“I wanted to say we could choose two warm blankets, and you could come here and... cuddle.”

Geralt’s jaw dropped as you suggested something you knew you’d regret soon. He blinked a few times, his eyes lightening with every motion. You could barely believe what you said yourself, but thinking back to all the times he made you choose between evils made you realize you could do the same to free yourself of the pain you were in now. It would be a pain-in-the-ass to correct later if he insisted on sleeping like this in the future. But, that was a problem for future you. Right now, you wanted to curl onto your side and maybe take advantage of his low body temperature to ease your aching.

“I... guess,” he yielded, but by the smile creeping on his face, it seemed like he was the one holding the victory and not you. It made you cringe, but he at least started to undo the intricate wrapping he had done, like a full-body armor of restrictive fabrics, until you could take a deep breath again, your chest expanding in a sort of pleasurable pain.

“Would you like me to wash you?” Geralt asked from your side while you enjoyed your few moments of bliss outside the blankets. Your attention drifted to him, tired eyes fixating on the washcloth in his hand. He always had a bucket with water and fresh clothes prepared, keeping it warm near the fire. If you were honest, a bath would have been amazing, but that wasn’t an option for you. Instead, you nodded slowly, letting him help you sit up and undress you, his rough, calloused hands roaming your body in bittersweet tenderness. Geralt touched, caressed, and moved you as gently as a lover would but as attentive and skilled as a husband.

The warm water dripped down your body, leaving behind more cold than you wanted as the warmth dissipated, freeing you of the feeling and stench of sweat. He started at your neck, down your arms, the curve of your spine. When he was done with the back, he pulled you against his chest to wash your front area, collarbones, and palms. Every finger was gently wiped down as if you were an expensive porcelain doll, prone to breaking but in constant need of attention and care. You neither liked nor disliked the wash. Even when he proceeded to your legs, stretching and bending them for you—which was a torturous strain that turned into a moan from your lips—you still didn’t feel uncomfortable. You knew that even though he had gone entirely off the rails, the crazy bastard wouldn’t do anything to you to hurt you on purpose. He enjoyed taking care of you just as much as forcing you into his fantasy. And as he pulled a fresh shirt over your head, you could have cried from feeling so much better after this cat bath.

Satisfied and content with how you were, you let Geralt lift you out of bed, swiping at the blankets to clear the way for you. Finally, you were returned to your one true love: the mattress. Already feeling less stiff and suffocated by everything and everyone. Your body could finally relax and heal, all on its own, just like you expected, and exhaustion was taking over now that your optimal conditions to recover were met.

You were already dozing off as you felt Geralt’s body spoon up to you from behind. With your nose clogged off, it was hard to tell, but you heard the splattering of water before and felt it dripping on your face from his hair, telling you he washed up as well, which you appreciated. He covered you both in blankets, and you couldn’t count if he stuck with your suggested two, but it didn’t matter so much. All you wanted was to sleep and heal now.

His beard tickled you as he kissed from behind your ear to the nape of your neck. You vaguely remembered opening up to the affection, probably a response from your weakened, sick body in search of any kind of care it could get. Geralt’s words were lost to your exhaustion as it pulled you into sleep, but his arm held you firmly against him, giving you no room for doubt that he was holding you snug the whole time you slept.

“You don’t know the power you have over me,” he whispered, kissing along your jawline. “The things you do to me when you invite me like this. It surprises me every time but confirms what I already know.”

Lucky you who slept unaware. Didn’t hear all the crazy confessions and future plans Geralt had for you. You were content indulging him this once, having chosen the lesser evil to help yourself. But how many chances would you have to coax him into doing as you wanted in the future? How often would fate humor you before it gave your luck to Geralt instead?

“I can never let you go,” he whispered into your neck, pressing his face hard into your soft body until you stirred. Only then did he recoil, instead settling with his face nestled in your hair, taking deep breaths to calm the raging emotions inside of him. The want, desire, need. Wanting to be recognized for all the efforts he made. Desire to have your love just like he had back when you two were just traveling buddies and not captive and captor. Needing more of those delicious moments of closeness you allowed once in a full moon when you needed him to protect you or to care for you because you were sick.

“I love you.”

Madly. Irresistible. Forever.

#Geralt #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt The Witcher #The Witcher #yandere Geralt #yandere!Geralt #yandere the witcher #yandere!the witcher #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[cherryblossomlovee]

Forbidden love: Geralt rivia x female reader

You're a princess awaiting marriage. Every girl has to marry a prince even if the girls do not want to marry,

they have no other choice.

At this moment, you are wandering around your garden, admiring the flowers. As you were leaning down to smell the flowers feeling someone's

as you kneel down to pick a pretty one, you hear someone coming behind you,

you immediately got up and turned around and saw an older prince that you had a crush on for a while now.

''My princess' geralt rushes towards you, and you do the same.

you smile widely. my prince

he pulls you into his grasp. holding onto you as if you were leaving him at any moment.

Y/N, i can't let you leave to someone else, he says seriously

looking down, heartbroken,

hey, he lifts your chin! making you look at him,

Geralt lifts your chin. making you look at him. he then takes a deep breath. caressing your cheek,

I'm running away.

before you could say anything, he cuts you off, and you're leaving with me,       

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x reader #yn #romantic #fanfic #multi fandom blog #oneshot #henry cavill

[hopeluna-archived]

Something like that

Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader

Warnings: some mentions of bleeding but nothing too graphic, strong language, Geralt being Geralt, my dumb ass leaving the story unfinished

A/N: I don't know what the heck this is, its been in my drafts for so long

M.list

Music and laughter could be heard from the tavern Geralt was heading to. It had been a long journey for him, finding the nearest town to stay for the night.

Usually when he would enter, everyone would halt what they were doing to stare at the witcher. Not this time though. As he stepped into the tavern, everyone was circling around some bards who were singing cheerfully with the people joining in.

Making his way to a table at the back, Geralt ordered a drink from a maid who was passing by.

Looking around the place, his eyes scanned the people. Some sharing stories of their adventures, some flirting with the maids, some fighting and others who had passed out either from the drinking or the fighting, one couldn't really tell but what caught his eyes where a woman sitting at a table across the room, reading a book amidst all this chaos.

Geralt didn't know why she caught his attention, maybe it was how she was reading a book as if she unaware of her loud surroundings.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, the woman looked up from her book. Making eye contact for a split second, Geralt looked away quickly lightly blushing, not that he would ever admit to it.

Looking back after a few seconds, the woman  softly smiled at him and went back to her book. Geralt gazed at her for a few seconds before shaking his head and taking a swig from his drink .

An hour or so had gone by but the liveliness in the place did not stop. Geralt had been sitting at his table, having a couple of drinks and looking around the place from time to time though he avoided gazing at the woman with the book for too long in case she caught him staring again.

Speaking of her, Geralt glanced at where she was sitting only to find her seemingly walking towards him.

Fuck. Geralt straightened up, not sure why he was nervous as it was very unlike him.

The woman took a seat at the table at a distance from him. "You looked like you wanted to say something" softly smiling at him, her voice was gentle over all the cheering and singing.

Did he want to say something? Geralt didn't really know. It was likely the first time he had ever been uncertain of what to do. "What book are you reading?" Geralt mentally facepalmed himself at blurting out something he didn't even wanna know.

"Oh this?" She lifted a book from her satchel "its just a book about healing"

"You're a healer?"

"Something like that" She smiled at him, putting the book back inside her satchel.

"Hmm" Geralt took a swig of his drink not knowing what else to say.

After a few seconds of silence, the woman abruptly stood up which made Geralt almost spill his drink a little.

Glancing at her, she was looking across at a quite drunk woman with golden hair who was dancing or more like stumbling to the music.

"It was nice to talk to you even though our conversation was short but I must go now" the woman gave Geralt a kind smile, which made him melt on the inside for some reason.

She made her way to the blonde woman, leading her outside the tavern in a hurry. As she left, Geralt sat there wondering how he didn't even get her name which he didn't understand why he even wanted to know in the first place as he was not the kind of person to do that.

He shrugged it off, trying to get his mind of the woman he got up to talk to the innkeeper for a place to stay for the night.

•••

"Fuck"

Geralt groaned, holding on to his side where he was bleeding from his fight with a monster.

With a pounding headache, he made his way to a lake. What he didn't expect was the same woman from the tavern he met about a week ago, seemingly plucking some small plants.

Same as that night, as if almost feeling his gaze on her she looked up.

"What are you- are you alright?" She hurried towards Geralt after noticing his wound.

"I'm fine" Geralt grumbled, starting to walk away cause it seemed he would have to be in search of somewhere else to rest.

"No you're not" she huffed, not backing down "you're bleeding"

"Oh really? I couldn't tell"

"You need help"

"No I don't"

"Yes you do"

"No I don't"

"Sit down"

"No" Geralt looked at her to find her looking for something inside the satchel she carried.

"Sit" her voice was firm yet gentle, which Geralt didn't know why he listened to as he sat leaning on a tree.

A few minutes or so had passed with her tending to his wound. "So you are a healer?" Geralt spoke up in hopes of making conversation which omce again he was confused as to why he even wanted to talk.

Giving him a knowing smile, she replied "something like that"

"You do know who I am right?" Geralt sat up straighter, scanning her face for any hint of fear which would usually be there on people's faces but he couldn't find any.

"You are Geralt of Rivia, a witcher" she gave him a soft smile when he hissed at her applying some ointment on his small wounds.

Geralt wondered for a second on what to say, settling on the question he had in his mind since that night.

"And you are?"

She once again gave him a smile he was rather begining to like.

"Y/N"

───────────

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!! Do not repost or claim as yours though, its not cool.

#the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt fluff #the witcher oneshots #the witcher imagines #the witcher scenarios #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia oneshots #geralt of rivia imagines

[redskull199987]

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

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

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

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

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

Masterlist

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

The rest was history.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher edit #the witcher edits #the witcher oneshot #the witcher fanfic #the witcher cahir #cahir #cahir edit #cahir edits #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #cahir os #cahir oneshot #Cahir x reader #cahir fanfic #cahir request #Eamon Farren #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #jaskier dandelion #os #fanfic #request