#geralt x oc

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter III

I apologise for the very long wait for this chapter, in all honesty I had no idea how to move forward from Chapter II but this felt right, and it felt true to the relationship between existing characters, to an extent.

Geralt is tied to these two women in two distinctly different ways, and it's only now that he has all the information, he can make the decision he needs to. But that doesn't come without its consequences, which subsequently leads to other consequences.

I apologise again for the long wait, and hope to update with another chapter soon! I truly hope you guys enjoy this chapter! <333

TW: (slight?) angst

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Masterlist

Andromeda had thought they had come to an understanding. She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face and hope in her heart.

She dreamed of waking up to the sun heating her face as it slowly rose, opening her eyes to ashes of a well-worn fire as a gentle breeze brushed through her hair before her gaze met Geralt's.

She thought they would've exchanged gentle smiles, would've looked for excuses throughout the day to brush past each other, and engaged in small conversations hidden from the sight of others. And then, maybe when they had gotten too distracted or brushed too close to death on one adventure or the next, they would've exchanged a kiss. A small, hesitant kiss that they poured all their emotions into, where they succumbed to their desires and the strings of destiny.

Instead, she had awoken to burning lips and a quivering heart. She knew. The moment the feeling spread over her, she knew.

Andromeda couldn't open her eyes in fear of what she would find.

Geralt and Yennefer locked in a battle of passion? The two carressing each other in gentle affection?

She feared she would find a liar and a coward in the place where she had seen her Geralt in the glowing embers of last night's fire.

But she couldn't escape his senses.

Unbeknownst to her, as she curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut as tears welled in her eyes, and she pretended to sleep as she stifled her laboured breaths, Geralt knew she was awake. And he knew she felt his betrayal just like she had every other time.

His soul roiled in its place, his heart burned in guilt. It was not what it seemed.

***

Yennefer had woken up before the rest had, before the sun had risen and its warmth had replaced what was lost as the campfire died out.

Geralt waited for her to say something as she sat up, to say 'good morning' or to say she would take watch instead, but she simply sat and stared.

He lost his patience quite quickly, feeling the way her stare burned into the side of his head as he forced his gaze away from Rory and onto her instead.

She looked amused.

"What?"

His words were gruff, full of curiosity and annoyance. He knew he had no right to be annoyed. He had pursued Yennefer just as much as she pursued him. But it was different then.

Now, knowing that his Rory felt the same about him as he did about her, knowing she had been longing for him from the day they met, that her heart yearned for him, everything changed.

Andromeda could have ran, every time he had bed another woman, she could have walked away. And even yesterday, she could have turned away without giving him a second glance.

But she was full of compassion and sincerity, and she gave away chances as easily as she gave away her heart. It had just taken him too long to realise it was him she had gifted it to.

Yennefer didn't answer him, instead making her way to her feet as she strutted his way, her movements slow and sensual. She was so sure of herself, so confident she would get what she wanted. And Geralt was scared that, somehow, she would.

She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders as she leaned down and pressed her breasts into his back, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "you look tense. I could help you."

Her voice was low and sultry, and Geralt from a few days ago would have given into her words immediately, but the Geralt that sat in front of her now only grimaced at her words. His shoulders raised as he pulled himself from her embrace, standing to his full height as he turned on her - "no."

"No?" Yennefer was shocked, sure she had seen the looks the two exchanged, the way they smiled at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking, but it had never made Geralt reject her.

"No," Geralt had the knack to look at least somewhat apologetic, his eyes furrowing as he looked down at Yennfer in sympathy, "the circumstances have changed."

"Geralt, you told me that destiny tied us. That destiny wanted us together."

"I was wrong, Yen. Destiny didn't pick you, I did. But I can't keep choosing you anymore."

"Geralt..." her hand came up to rest at his cheek, her eyes pooling with tears as she shook her head in denial, "you love me."

Geralt let her keep her hand on his face, let her take what she needed as he broke the heart of another woman he cared for. He shook his head, "I don't. I love her."

It was a whispered confession, his voice shaky as the truth came out, and Geralt found a weight lift of his chest at the revelation, "I love her," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, Yennefer," she felt her heart break further at the sound of her name on his lips, "I can't love you, I can't pick you."

Yennefer's other hand reached up for his cheek, both now cradling his face as she ran her fingers over familiar lines and scars. She pulled him closer, but he resisted.

"Please, Geralt. Just one more time."

Her voice was desperate, he could smell the defeat permeating off of her, and when he gave in and brushed his lips against her own, he could taste it in her tears too.

The kiss was familiar, it was easy. It was a goodbye.

***

Geralt pulled away from Yennefer, as though her lips against his own had burned him the way it burned Andromeda.

He felt anger festering in the pits of his stomach, he hated himself for giving in so easily, for hurting Rory again.

He wanted to go to her, to plead with her to listen to him and know that it meant nothing to him. That it was a goodbye for Yennefer and not a betrayal to her. That he loves her. He needs her.

But with Yennefer's hands holding his face once more, and Jaskier rousing from his sleep, he had again lost his chance, and perhaps he had now lost her.

***

As they packed their gear, the air was stifled with tension. As Yennefer, Geralt, and Andromeda stayed away from each other, it did not take much guessing from Jaskier and Cirilla to realise what had probably happened.

Cirilla observed her aunt, worry colouring her eyes as she watched her move with no real purpose, her eyes empty as if every ounce of hope and life had been washed out.

Geralt was like a father to Cirilla, she craved his affection and even more his approval. But she knew that Geralt had to be the one responsible for her aunt's state, and she couldn't help the anger that bubbled in her chest as the minutes ticked by and Andromeda lost more of herself to the quiet around her.

Still, no one spoke as they carried on their journey, marching through the barren-land with their rations untouched and their stomachs full of lead.

Cirilla stood next to Andromeda, holding her hand tightly as she kept her aunt close to her side and safe. All the while, she would glare at Geralt every time she noticed his gaze stray towards Andromeda, forcing him to look back at the path ahead as he wiped any essence of emotion from his face.

But every once in a while, his expression would become drowned once more, and he would find himself throwing agonised glances her way.

Cirilla remained unaware of the guilty glances Yennefer threw their way.

***

When they had reached the nearest village, it didn't take long for stories about a nasty group of ghouls at the local cemetery that had been eating dead corpses and unknowing citizens, to spread.

It had gotten so bad that the people of the village they had come across refused to leave their homes after dark. So when they had reached a tavern, after a silent agreement they could all do with some hot food and rest, Geralt found himself agreeing to a large pouch of silver and a long, comfortable stay in the tavern in exchange for slaying the beasts.

He had agreed easily, of course. Needing something to channel his pent-up energy into, the anger and guilt that festered in him and the anguish that settled in his heart every time Andromeda brushed past him like he was not there, every time he tried to speak to her and failed.

Yennefer was still here. She couldn't leave knowing she was why the group had become so broken and frail. Perhaps her leaving would have made it easier for Andromeda to breathe, but it wouldn't lessen the pain Yennefer had caused.

She loves Geralt, and she wants to see him happy. He chose her every time before that day in the tavern, but she knew every time he had picked her there was a part of him that yearned for Andromeda.

She tried to hide from the truth in their moans and sighs, tried to find solace in their pleasurable escapades, tried to make Andromeda jealous, and assert the idea that Geralt was her's.

But he wasn't.

He may have picked Yennefer because of the cards destiny had given him, but Andromeda's name was scrawled across his heart. He needed Andromeda in a way Yennefer could never replace.

A heart-breaking revelation she had slowly been coming to peace with.

She would leave the group in peace, but she wanted to fix her mess first.

***

Darkness had drawn over the sky when Geralt prepared to leave, and as he sheathed his sword Cirilla couldn't find it within herself to plead with him to let her join, as she had done so many times before.

Cirilla couldn't leave Andromeda, couldn't pick Geralt over her.

Andromeda may not have been her blood, but she was the only family Cirilla had left from the life she lived before.

Geralt didn't try and push Cirilla to join. He didn't ask Jaskier to play bait, knowing he was disappointed in him, too. And he couldn't look towards Yennefer, fearful that one glance would confirm every terrified thought Andromeda had running through her head.

He had smelt the stench of agony on her. It was heavy and brittle and still so sweet in a way that was perfect for her. She was beautiful even when she was in pain.

He took one last glance towards his ragged group of friends, a longing gaze marked for the woman who had stolen his heart and burned her presence into his soul. He lowered his head in shame, gruffly clearing his throat as he spoke, "you should all get some rest. Don't wait for me."

He walked out, his form much more quainter than any of them had seen it before.

A few moments of silence had passed, and then it looked like Yennefer was going to speak.

But Andromeda beat her to it, sensing the conversation looming ahead she pushed herself up from her seat, "I'm going to my room."

She didn't wait for any reply, walking sluggishly to her room as her thoughts threatened to drown her.

Some distance away, Geralt circled the cemetery he entered, waiting for movement. Nothing came.

He needed bait, but there was no one around but himself. So he pulled his small dagger, pressing the knife into his hand and dragging a cut across his palm.

Replacing the dagger, he squeezed his hand closed, relishing in the pain as blood dripped into the soil beneath his feet.

He waited a breath, and then he heard it. Soft growling from all around him as the beasts scuttled in a frenzy.

He waited for them to attack, always on the move, and he pushed them back with his sword and sigils. He had fought enough ghouls to battle them with ease, waiting for one to separate from the group, snarling loud in rage as it got ready to attack, making it a priority to kill before repeating.

Geralt continued his dance, never giving the ghouls a long enough break to catch him off guard and never working too hard to break a sweat. One by one, he hacked down each monster until he was the only beast left standing.

The butchered corpses of seven ghouls laid at his feet, satisfaction filling his gut as he considered his work. He raised his head to the sky, taking in the darkness as he realised not much time would have passed since he left, but there also wasn't long until sunrise.

Geralt couldn't stand having to go back in and face his companions, a part of him was even scared to.

Scared they would leave him for his transgressions, hate him, and abandon him just like his mother had once done.

His heart sank to his stomach, never had he felt such emotions, strong enough to rock him back and forth between the idea of running away or facing his problems head on.

He didn't know what to do.

Until he did.

It was still night, and Andromeda hated the dark. So it would be unlikely she was asleep.

Perhaps she was stargazing, a hobby she was so fond of. Geralt recalls the way her eyes glittered as she peered at the starlight, the way she emanated joy and delight as she pointed out constellations and spoke of the legends and fables behind them, how her heart raced when her eyes found his and her eyes would track his face as though she had found her favourite constellation in him.

He needed to find her. He needed to see her and speak to her and explain.

Maybe it wouldn't help, maybe it would make her hate him more. But the weight of such a confession sat unbearable on his shoulders, he needed her to know.

To know why he kissed Yennefer, to know of his guilt and of his sorrow. But mostly, to know of his truth.

Geralt could no longer hide behind cowardice - a truth badly disguised as indifference and intimidation.

Geralt found his steps hurrying back to the tavern, his footfalls heavy as he forced himself not to take off in a sprint. He pushed and pushed until he found himself at the tavern doors, never taking a breath to stop as he pushed through, tearing past a silent trio huddled by a fire and finding his way to the room he knew Andromeda would be in.

Faintly he hears Jaskier exclaim from his place by the fire, "fucking, finally!" And he feels a ghost of a smile stretch across his face.

A smile that sinks when he finds himself face-to-face with the door that separated him and the woman he had given his heart to, years before he had even realised.

Geralt wasn't sure if he should knock or barge in like he had done at the other tavern not so long ago. He wasn't sure if he should call out to her or simply get onto his knees and beg from outside.

His hand rested on the doorknob, steady and gentle as he twisted the door and creaked it open, "Rory?"

His voice was quiet, a hopeful whisper that was left unanswered.

As the door opened wider, Geralt could feel his heart sink at the realisation of what he had missed on his wild dash here. Something he should have realised miles before he had even reached the tavern once more.

He couldn't smell her sweet, sickly scent, the absence of orange blossoms and jasmine weighing heavy in his heart.

He couldn't hear her quiet breathing as she drowned herself in her imagination or her ragged breaths as she tried to hold back tears.

He couldn't hear the rustle of fabric as she fidgeted and picked at the loose strings in her clothes, or the sound of her comb brushing through her hair, or her huffs of boredom, or groans of irritations. Nothing.

Geralt could no longer hear the sound of her heartbeat.

He pushed open the door, his mind almost out of control as his actions became desperate. The room was bare, even of Andromeda's belongings and opposite him sat a lonely window, its sheer curtain billowing in the winds.

Rory had left. And it was all his fault.

Geralt's eyes burned, but he no longer had the strength to hold back his tears and let them fall freely down his face.

He walked the rest of the way in the room, sitting down heavily on the bed and basking in the faint smell of orange blossoms that surrounded him, and hidden between them was a scent he recognised as determination.

Geralt looked down at his hands, bloodied and destroyed, and found himself imagining a life where he hadn't lost Andromeda to his stupid mistakes.

He would fix this. He had to.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

#geralt x oc #geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia #geralt of river x reader #geralt x ofc #geralt x you #the witcher #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra

[parttimesinnerslutt]

Hello!! I love your writings of geralt of rivia and i have a request!

Dom!Geralt x fem!reader

Geralt and reader fall asleep in the same bed because she couldnt sleep alone and they both wake up to geralt's morning wood and they have morning sex?

(If kink request are okay can i req Praise kink- idk what other kinks to put, i just love praises-you can come up with other kinks of corse)

You dont have to do this req if you dont want to!:)

Hehe I love this.

Pairning - Dom!Geralt x sub!reader (female)

Warnings - Degradation. Dumbification. Size kink (It's Henry. If you love this dude you have a size kink). Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Spanking. Boobies spanking. Choking.

Summary - After a night of celebration in Cintra, you and Geralt retire in chambers across from one another. In the middle of the night, nightmares grasp your mind but a good thing that a Witcher is close. He keeps you safe during the night but as the morning comes...The Witcher has different things on his mind.

This is NOT edited.

This one is going to be a little...rough. So yeah, keep that in mind.

The banquet was in full swing. People spun around, smiling and laughing as if it was the last time they'd do it. You sat at a corner, watching the view of the celebration, wondering when would you be able to join such...life. The nightmares of your past ate at you, taking away everything you held dear.

Then there he was. The Witcher. Geralt of Rivia, someone had called him. He sat beside the Queen of Cintra, looking no less than a King. He was handsome, you realized as your eyes caressed every inch of that hardened face. He was really handsome in sort of a rugged way which told you that those hands did not know gentleness.

"That is my friend." Jaskier smiled, handing you a mug of ale. You took a sniff of the drink, scrunching your nose. Your old friend laughed. "He kills. I write songs about it."

"Seems interesting."

"It is," he agreed. "Do you plan on fucking him?"

If you had been drinking the ale, you would have spat it out. "Jaskier-"

Your friend grinned. "He will gladly take up the offer." With a wink, the bard walked away, eyeing a few ladies. He walked up to Geralt and curses sat right on the tip of your tongue as the man whispered something to the witcher which made Geralt look right at you.

The side of his lips twisted up in a smirk which sent a zap of heat through you. He took a sip of his drink, eyes not moving from you. Your cheeks heated and you turned your gaze away. Yet, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you.

You looked at Jaskier. "I will kill you," you mouthed. The bard grinned, unapologetic as ever.

. . .

Geralt, much to your disappointment, didn't approach you and you, much to your disappointment, couldn't gather enough guts to approach him so you found yourself laying on a bed in the castle of Cintra, cursing yourself out repeatedly. You could have had him on top of you right now, touching and caressing you.

Fucking you.

You sighed. Soon the sleep came and so did the shadows.

The creature was a large one. It attacked, retracted, and attacked again. It played with you, laughing when you struggled. It didn't touch. It taunted. It spat. It chuckled.

"Y/N" You heard someone say. It was the monster but no...no the voice was too deep. "Y/N."

It was someone else. It's a dream, a part of you sighed in relief. It's just a dream. Your eyes opened and the witcher was crouched next to your bed, his great sword in his hand. His eyes, golden and beautiful and unnatural, flickered over your face.

"I..." You whispered. "Bad dream," you finally said, knowing it was a pathetic explanation. You must have been screaming and even through the walls of the castle were the thickest you had seen, witchers had amplified hearing.

"Hm." That was so deep. Your thighs clenched. He noticed and somehow his already shining eyes shone brighter.

"Geralt..."

He stood. "Will you be alright?" His voice. His damned voice. Your thighs clenched together again, warmth pooling out of you. You had not expected him to sound like that.

He watched you, golden eyes taking in your reaction. "You're vulnerable," he said. "You do not want me like this, y/n."

"I do," you rushed out quickly, sitting up. "Please, Geralt..."

He shook his head. "Not when you are like this." He walked to the door.

You gulped. "Stay," you whispered. "I-I mean just stay. The bed is big enough. I don't get nightmares when there's someone close."

Just when you were convinced he'd say no, he nodded and walked closer. He kept his sword on a nightstand, within arm's reach. His fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt and you watched, trying to keep your mouth shut as it threatened to fall open at the perfect...perfect man Geralt was.

He shrugged his shirt off and threw it somewhere. He lay in the bed, pulling the covers over him. You pulled half of them over you and blew at the candle, washing the room in darkness.

His presence could not be ignored. He smelled good, you couldn't pinpoint what it was, but it suited him. Not a single part of you was touching him. You wanted to be closer.

You laid on your side, facing him. You couldn't see him in the intense darkness, but you could feel him. His warmth. His strength.

"Do you want to be closer?" He asked. His voice...You held back a whimper. You had not felt this needy for ages.

"Can I?"

His large arm wrapped around you and before you knew it, you were on his chest, your head laying on his heart.

He kept one arm around your waist. Now, having all of his hard body pressed to yours, your whole body throbbed with need for pleasure but you wouldn't ask when you had been denied already. No matter how good you knew he'd feel.

You fell asleep listening to the slow heartbeat of the Witcher.

. . .

His breath was on your ear, his oversized hands on your waist, holding you to him.

"Now," he whispered. "Do you want it?'

"Yes, Geralt." The answer was quick.

The sunrays whispered on his pale skin as his mouth came on yours and his hands shifted under the nightie, grabbing your ass as if it belonged to him. He squeezed, kissing you harder. You whimpered in his mouth, loving the harsh treatment.

He flipped, pinning you under his great body, and kissed you deeply as if unable to get enough of your mouth. Your arms wrapped around his head, feeling the softness of his hair, as he tugged your nightie up till it was gathered above your breasts.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes. "Such a good girl," he whispered. Your core throbbed. His voice had been enough to make you lose your mind, now his words seemed to break you.

"Geralt," you whispered, swiping your thumb on his bottom lip while a golden storm brewed in his eyes.

"How do you want it?" he asked. "How do you want it, y/n? I don't want to hurt you but give me the permission..." His hands whispered on your breast. "And I'll make these red, along with your whole body."

"Do it," you whispered. "Take me how you want."

"You will say stop if it gets too much," he said firmly. "What will you say when it gets too much?"

"Stop."

"That's a good fucking girl." His eyes finally left yours and travelled down at your breasts then down to your cunt which laid bare, without any covering. Something which sounded like a growl left his lips. Your eyes fell on the hardness between his legs. Wetness leaked out of you. Just when you were about to clench your thighs, he grabbed your knees and pushed you open like a book.

"Delicious," he said, watching your wetness. His one hand whispered on your thigh. You gulped as you noticed how big his hand looked, even though you were in no way small. He was just too big. "I will break you." His lips fluttered on your breasts. He took one nipple between his teeth, pulling gently. "And I will enjoy it."

You gasped at the gentle pain. His one hand grabbed both of your wrists, easily pinning you down to the bed as he sucked at your nipples. He pulled and bit into the soft flesh, creating marks while all you could do was gasp and whimper and whine for more. No one in your twenty years had made you feel like this. "So fucking soft," he growled.

He ignored all your noises, putting all his attention on your breasts, worshipping and hurting them, making them red as he had promised he would. When you were convinced you could no longer take the teasing, he lifted his mouth and looked into your blurry eyes.

His lip lifted up in a smirk.

"Am I being mean, pretty girl?"

You struggled in his powerful hold, desperate for some kind of attention where you needed it the most.

"Geralt...please. You've made me wait so much."

He tilted his head. "Poor little girl, hm?" His eyes lowered to your cunt. "You slept on me the whole night not even fucking wearing your panties, humping on me in your sleep, letting out pretty moans." His hand slapped at your right breast.

You cried, thighs flexing in a desperate attempt to get some relief. "Look at those pretty tears." He slapped your left breast, reddening the already red skin.

His hand finally slid down to your belly and then between your thighs. He cupped you, keeping his hand there. Your hips jerked, unable to resist his rough hand. Your cunt humped his large hand. Your eyes closed. This felt so good. Cries left your lips, quiet and small. You had been waiting for this since you had seen him.

He took his hand away.

"Geralt-"

He needed to stop torturing you like this.

Geralt parted your cunt with his two fingers and spat down right on your clit. You gasped at the shameless action. His eyes held yours as he lowered his mouth and feasted. "Such a pretty little cunt you have, y/n." He chuckled. "I wonder how pretty it will look after a good fucking."

Your hands scratched on the bed, and tugged at his hair, as your back arched with the insane pleasure his mouth was. You tried to grab something, ending up with a silk pillow cuddled to your chest as the witcher ate you as if starved. He lapped at the wetness, tugged at your clit, and pushed his tongue inside you till your legs shook. "Hm," he growled against your heated flesh and chuckled as more wetness came out. That chuckle made you clench.

"I thought you were a good little girl," he said, his voice sending vibrations through your body as he lazily licked around your cunt. You whimpered into the pillow. "When I saw you walking around in that red dress of yours. I thought I'd need to be gentle." He licked your clit. You were so close. "I thought I'd need to make sure I didn't bruise this precious little body of yours too much." He stuffed two fingers inside of you. You gasped at the unexpected stretch.

He pounded in and out of you. You hid your face in the pillow, letting out muffled whimpers as the witcher played with you. "But you're just a little whore, aren't you, y/n?" He stilled his fingers deep inside of you, curling them. You let out a cry as he touched a spot no one ever had.

His fingers fucked you faster. "Let go of the fucking pillow and look at me."

Letting out a cry, you threw the pillow away, forcing yourself to look at the witcher through teary eyes.

He grabbed your throat and increased the speed of his two fingers, hitting that spot which made you twitch. Your mouth opened. He kissed your mouth, swallowing the cries. Just when you knew you were about to cum, his fingers disappeared.

You cried in his mouth, trying to reach down to finish yourself off but with one large hand, he grabbed both of your wrists and kissed you till your cries turned into soft sniffles.

He pulled away, wiping the tears off your face, tugging at your quivering bottom lip. "Already crying, whore?" He mocked. You whimpered again, his harsh words making your oversensitive cunt throb. "I haven't even started making you cry yet."

He let go of you, letting you fall on the bed. Your thighs were glued together, you were on the brink of insanity. The witcher looked completely in control.

"Get off the bed and stand with your hands on the wall, ass facing me."

You let out a breath. You had always only heard of the men who were dominant in bed. You never dared to seek one out.

You got off the bed and stood as you were told, body trembling with need so deep it hurt.

You heard him take his breeches off and then he was behind you, big and powerful. He pulled at your hips and parted your thighs.

"Be a good girl," he said to you. "And take all of it."

He pushed and your eyes almost popped out of your skull at how big he felt. He put a hand around your throat, set his chin on your head, and pushed.

"Geralt...Geralt!" He stuffed you full, leaving no space inside of you when he was completely in.

"Shh," he hushed you softly, hand tightening around your throat. You gasped. He gently pulled out and pushed in. Your thighs shook more than ever. "Shh," he whispered again when you continued whimpering. He pressed his lips on your ear. "Am I too big, sweetheart?"

You furiously nodded, nails digging into the smooth walls. "T-Too much."

He chuckled. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whispered.

"That's my good girl. Now brace yourself."

"What-"

The question was cut off by him grabbing your hip in one hand, putting his hand on your mouth, and fucking you harder than you had ever been fucked.

His cock slammed in and out, denting something deep inside of you that shook your legs.

"Look at that," he said. "Taking it so well. My brave little girl." He moved you till you were on your knees, torso on the bed and he was behind you, fucking your cunt so roughly you saw stars.

You screamed into the mattress, hands grabbing a pillow again. Geralt's hand came down on your ass, bruising it. "Dumb little whore." His hand tugged at your nipples, abusing the little buds till you screamed, cumming over his cock before you even realized what you were doing.

He stopped after fucking you through your orgasm. He kept his cock inside of you, all of it. "You know," he whispered, gently rubbing your breasts while you quivered. "When Jaskier pointed you out to me, I knew I was going to get into this little cunt sooner or later."

He spanked your ass.

He twisted a nipple. Your cunt tightened over his cock. "You had your fun," he said. "Now I will have mine."

He fucked you for what felt like hours, pounding your cunt in a frenzy. His hand came down on your ass several times, making the skin hurt as he fucked you. You cried and sobbed into the covers, cumming more than you ever had. He degraded you, praised you, mocked you, laughed at you, as you struggled around his cock.

When be came inside of you, you were nothing but a mess of tears and cum. You felt it drip out of you as the witcher dressed.

He picked you up, golden eyes looking all over your face. "Best I've ever had, Y/n."

. . .

This one was looonnngg

(That's what she said.)

#dom!geralt x fem reader #dom!geralt x reader #geralt x oc #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill #dom!geralt #mean dom #smut #parttimesinnerslut

[cas-kingdom]

“For someone who’s totally selling the monster-killing, impassive mystique, you’re surprisingly kid-friendly.”

"For someone who’s totally selling the monster-killing, impassive mystique, you’re surprisingly kid-friendly.”

Geralt looked disgusted for a moment, but then that seemed to be a daily thing he had no control over. Still, he turned back to stoking the fire with an added warmth in his slowly-thawing heart that he knew wasn’t coming from the flame. “Thanks,” he grumbled, unsure if Jaskier had even meant it as a compliment.

“Seriously though, I’m surprised she’s got all four limbs...ten fingers, ten toes...” Akela giggled as Jaskier pinched each tiny digit, and he laughed, reverting back to the baby talk Geralt had to refrain from commenting on. Though he was genuinely glad Jaskier seemed to like the baby, it was still an introduction most unbefitting of him. Of a witcher. He’d known Jaskier for some years, not quite maintaining much of a relationship but certainly becoming at least acquaintances. There was obviously something there, because Geralt had gone searching for the bard purposefully, with no reason other than a subconscious desire to have him meet the baby he’d come to be guardian over. He wasn’t completely sure why the desire had existed. Perhaps he was in need of support after leaving Kaer Morhen and the welcomed assistance of his brothers. Perhaps he was aching for a real fight but needed to ensure the baby’s safety first. Or, perhaps, just simply, he wanted Jaskier to meet her.

Whatever it was, he didn’t think on it, unsure what that would help.

“You know what?” Jaskier had ceased his baby talk, propping the baby on his knee. She was little over four months now and was working on keeping her head up by herself, but Jaskier still had one hand supporting her. “I see the resemblance.”

Despite himself, Geralt scoffed. “That’s impossible, all things considered.”

“What’s ‘all things’?” Jaskier asked. His eyes suddenly widened. “You stole her? Geralt, please don’t tell me you stole this child.”

“What? No, I—” Geralt glanced over his shoulder to glare. “Jaskier, you did not believe she was mine biologically.”

Jaskier shrugged, allowing the baby to chew on the strings of his tunic. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe I thought they’d...reversed...it?”

“You are as brainless as you look, Bard.” Geralt turned his back on him once again, shaking his head to himself.

“Alright, alright, I hadn’t really thought that true.” He bounced the baby on his knee. “You can’t blame me. Witcher best friend says “come meet my new baby” and all kinds of things run through your head. I still haven’t landed on one answer, you know.”

To save himself from the incessant blathering, Geralt roughly interrupted with the answer Jaskier was searching for with little use of his words and brain. “She’d been abandoned, so I took her,” he informed the bard monotonously. He’d had to explain this a number of times, mostly to the witchers of Kaer Morhen when they’d continuously asked him to repeat it, just to ensure they were hearing right. The words still hadn’t quite lost their discomfort.

“So...” Jaskier took a second. “You did steal her?” The look the witcher sent him froze his blood and he removed one hand from the baby to hold it, palm up, in his direction. “Joking,” he assured him. Geralt didn’t look very assured. Still, Jaskier continued, figuring the baby in his arms was enough leverage to escape bodily harm. “Why did you take her? I mean, sure, I’d do it, but you—” He paused for a moment, evidently thinking over his words. “You know what? Never mind. It really doesn’t matter.”

“You think it’s a bad idea.”

Jaskier contorted his face into one of deep thought, silent for a few blissful seconds before he opened his mouth once more. “I don’t, actually,” he decided on. Geralt’s hand paused in its stoking. “I get that you can’t really fight everything that goes bump in the night with a baby on board...but in the long run, I think this might be good for you. Got to start looking out for yourself at some point, right?”

“Hm.” Vesemir had said something similar.

“Yeah, you ‘hm’ away. Baby and I will have a wonderful conversation about all the child-proof adventures we’re going to go on as a trio.”

“A trio?”

“What’s her name, by the way? Does she have one? Because I have a baby name list somewhere...let me find—”

“Akela,” Geralt said. The name rolled off his tongue, the only familiarity about this situation that brought an ease to his battle-hardened soul. He’d spent countless nights since he’d found her, on his back, the baby sprawled across his chest as she slept and he whispered the name to himself, wondering how many more times he’d speak it. 

“Huh,” Jaskier said, obviously finished with his mental criticising of the name the witcher had chosen. “That’s good enough. Though I think Jaskier Jr. has more of a ring to it.”

Witcher Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

#the witcher #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher x reader #witcher x reader #jaskier x reader #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geralt x oc #jaskier x oc #oc #oc!reader #oc reader #daughter reader #daughter!reader #reader fic #mine #baby fic #drabble

[weareallstoriesintheend]

The Grudge (The Witcher x OC; Jaskier x OC)

Summary: Set between Episode 2 & 3 of Season 2 of The Witcher. Rinah Saov is living with the consequences of saving Vessimer from the Leshy, as the other witchers make her life a misery she decides there is somewhere else her heart and mind need to be.

Words: 2,267

Notes: Just trying something new, writing some new characters/universe that I haven't written before. I know that not many people like OC characters etc. but I really wanted to write this so I hope some of you like it. Just trying something a little different for once 🤷‍♀️

Rinah Saov was the nightmare parents told their children to keep them quiet. She was the stuff of Cintran legend; Redania denied her existence despite her long studies at Oxenfurt - stories and songs and tales of vast pain have been created in her wake.

The last name she adopted was a moniker of her kind, Saov meaning Soul in the elder language. Rinah was a ‘Second Soul’, a creature split in half by ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Equally in control; switching between a strong, extraordinary, but un-magical existence and a being of pure unfathomable power, sporting blood-red eyes and a magic not even the oldest mages of Aretuza know.

She was the origin of it all; the origin of the darkest magic in the continent, older than Chaos itself, a burden she knew all too well.

Their kind had existed before The Conjunction, few and far between, but by the time it was over Rinah was the only one left. Seemingly, she was now one of the oldest creatures on the continent inhabiting the body of a twenty-something year old woman. After The Conjunction, in an effort to placate the many creatures of this new world order she locked away the darkest part of her soul in a cage of her own minds making, vowing that her magic would remain dulled until war ravaged the lands she swore to protect.

A task that she had not been able to fulfill during the first Nilfgaardian war, a war she’d spent mostly unaware of what was happening as she remained locked in dimeritium chains in the dungeons of Cintra alongside Geralt of Rivia.

Geralt had met her by chance, some 30 years previous when he was a young Witcher. Fascinated by his lack of fear Rinah had followed him, irritating him into companionship. Eventually he stopped telling her leave; one day he handed her his sword to fight as hers was kicked from her grasp and that ostensibly insignificant act had sealed a formidable duo that was equally revered and feared across the many kingdoms. Her legends became entwined with his until she was not just two souls but three.

There was however a fourth, one that more belonged to her heart. Jaskier, Viscount De Lettenhove. 

Since their chance meeting in a tavern deep in the northern mountains the bard had wormed his way into her heart, a heart she had never once given to another. A thousand years of loneliness came crashing down around her, a feeling she never knew the sound of till she knew him.

Passing each other like flittering nymphs they had flirted with the prospects for years, seemingly only toying with it rather than solidifying any feelings. Geralt dutifully ignored his companion, the most powerful entity he had encountered in all his years, acting like a love-struck child. Swooning every time the loud-mouthed bard would cross their paths.

Then, one night in the woods outside Novigrad, as Geralt had slept, they had spilled their hearts open. Agreeing that the other may do what and whom they pleased, as long as they always made it back to each other.

Rinah was thousands of years old, monogamy wasn’t her style – a fact Jaskier embraced heartily.

Then came the dragon hunt, then Geralt’s rage and an issue neither of them had discussed – the fact that both would follow Geralt’s instructions without question, a different sense of loyalty. Hers to stay and his, with a shattering heart for both his love and his best friend, to leave.

Rinah paced the cold corridors of Kaer Morhern, cracking the bones of her neck in agitation, “Ignore him,” Vesemir said calmly, leaning casually against a damp wall. The silver adornments on his Witcher armor glimmered in the moonlight that shone in from the windows beside them.

The night air around them was peaceful and still, making the echoing thumps of her boots on the stone passageway sound like the walls had a heartbeat.

Shooting a look of daggers his way Rinah snorted incredulously, “I don’t know if you noticed but the little lamb makes it rather hard to do that.”

“Lambert is a feckless brute; he will come around.”

She sighed, halting her pacing and looking at Vessmier much kinder, “What I did to Eskel was…”

“… For the best.”

Rinah’s eyebrows furrowed in sadness, “I would never hurt any of you, but that… the Leshy had taken over, I had no choice.”

Vesemir grunted with a confirming nod, “So let it go child.”

Rinah smiled at his use of child, so tender and yet so incorrect. It had been a long time since she’d been treated like someone’s daughter. Vesemir smiled back as if he knew; his cold-grey eyes watching her curiously for a moment, as he so often did, before leaving.

------------------------

Dinner was noisy as usual, clattering cutlery and mingled voices. The air was thick with tension however, Geralt and Rinah sat at the opposite end of the room to the rest. Ciri sat by Rinah’s side too, side glancing at her every now and again with wary worry.

Suddenly Lambert's voice rose above the rest, “Can’t trust anyone these days!” he shouted in a jovial but pointed tone. His words were followed by a boom of bass-filled laughter.

Rinah rolled her eyes as Lambert peaked over his shoulder intentionally in her direction.

“This is impossible,” Rinah muttered under her breath. Geralt grunted dismissively by her side, shoveling spoonfuls of broth into his mouth, “They’ll move on.”

Sighing, she turned to him, lowering her chin so she could whisper, “They don’t want me here, and who can blame them.”

“You did what had to be done.”

A flash of the Leshy’s face, a mimic of Eskel, blinked across her memory, “I killed their brother! It doesn’t matter.”

Geralt was definitive, “Let it go.”

Rinah pushed herself up, plates clattering as her hips knocked the table as she clambered out from the bench, “I can’t.”

She stormed from the dining room, avoiding eye contact. Her feet carried her forward, cold air whipped her face as she made her way down some stone steps at the back of Kaer Morhern. 

Ice filled her lungs as she breathed down, trying to loosen the rope tightening around her chest. Her mind raced like a flood rushing down a hill, pointless to stop. She couldn’t stand their eyes on her, their judgement and rightful emotions.

She had no right to be angry, no right to be upset that they hated her. The only reason not a single one hadn’t tried to take her out wasn’t because of their history together, it was because of Geralt. Her mere presence was faltering cracks in their unbreakable mountain of bond. Geralt would pay a price that wasn’t a debt he owed the longer she held on.

But where would she go? Home was a foreign concept lost on her many thousands of years ago.

Then a face appeared in her mind, a memory that only made the rope around her chest more taut. The string-plucking sound of a lute like a call across the wind.

She’d go to him.

-----------------

Geralt heard Rinah before he saw her. The clatter and her weapons strapped to her back, thudding against the leather of her heavy pack.

“Vesemir,” she called out, gesturing him closer. Vesemir's eyes raised to hers casually before he caught sight of her appearance and despite the concerned furrowing of his eyebrows he rose to his feet and crossed the room.

Geralt stood when he saw her dressed in thick armor, his feet getting closer as she asked, “Do you have a horse you could spare?”

“A moment Vesemir,” Geralt spoke, cutting off his answer.  Vesemir didn’t move for a split second before a sideways glance from hard, gold eyes encouraged him away.

“What are you doing?” his graveled voice rumbled her way.  

Rinah sighed, looking past him to see if Ciri was still sat at the table, she found it empty, “I need to leave this fucking place.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows just a touch, understanding her reasoning but silently questioning it. She huffed in annoyance, “Geralt, you are not my guard I can come and go as I please.”

She pushed past him, making some more headway towards the doors at the back of the room. A gloved hand grabbed her bicep and tugged, “Enough of this,” he growled.

“They do not want me here,” Rinah replied, sounding out each word, “This is only going to get worse. You deserve better… she does too,” she lowered her voice to a whisper.

Geralt rolled his eyes, so used to her constate of quick to reaction, “You’re moving too fast, give it time,” Geralt said, his voice almost lilting down towards soothing as he loomed over her blocking Rinah from the prying view of their company.

“I know where I must go,” Rinah said with tentative words, carefully eyeing Geralt to see if he understood.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” Ciri appeared from the darkened corridor at the side of the room, smiling with a dreamy, doe-eyed happiness.

An understanding of a memory passed between them, one night at camp whilst Geralt hunted for food. Neither had ever had friends such as this to gossip about, Ciri asking all the questions with girlish glee that an age-old creature wouldn’t think too. Like sisters, tittering over some boy, Rinah had opened her heart once more.

Softly smiling, Rinah nodded and Ciri bounced on her heels, bounding towards her, “Go after him!”

“We’ll come with you,” Geralt adjusted his armor and looked around, deciding which direction to go first. Armor or to load up Roach with supplies, Rinah could see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

Even Ciri balked at the words, staring up at him incredulously. Had the weight of her decision not weighed her down Rinah may have smiled.

Rinah shook her head, “I will do this alone.”

“Rinah,” his grumbling tone warned her, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and disagreement. She placed her hand against his chest to stop the forward step he was taking.

“You will stay here, for her,” she kept her hand against his chest, a physical stop in his tracks, and tilted her head in gesture, “And for you.”

His eyes said everything his lips did not. Squinted in disapproval as he looked down at his friend.

Rinah rolled her tongue in the hollow of her cheek, swallowing her irritation, “Need I remind you Geralt, it’s your fault he isn’t here. Do not begrudge me this.”

Her heart ached, fear of not knowing what she’d find, but she knew she had to follow this feeling. This was not a habit she made practice of very often, her years were deeply lonely before the witcher had strolled into her life. But this was different, like an invisible string was pulling her Jaskier’s way.

She’d more than likely find him in bed with some wench he’d found at a local tavern but even that brought a twitch of a smile to her lips.

Rinah raised her eyes to Geralt, her expression somewhat pleading. A wave of her forgotten grudge swirled around them, Geralt's nostrils flared as if he could smell the scent of her fear, her pain. “If you knew Yennefer was alive, you’d go after her, am I wrong?”

Geralt stayed fixed in brooding silence as she continued, “Don’t insult me by telling me it’s not the same thing.”

Rinah’s hand reached up and rested against his armored shoulder, “I have to do this,” she urged, “Even just to see him once,” she continued under her breath so only he would hear, “I don’t even have to speak to him, I just… need this.”

She had no way of explaining the ache in her heart, although she feels the level of anger that she threw at Geralt in the months after the dragon hunt may have given him a hint. They barely spoke for weeks as she tried to forgive him. And as she tried to forgive herself for not telling her friend to fuck off and running after Jaskier before he stepped one foot off that mountain.

Geralt spoke in-kind, “This is a bad idea. You don’t know where he is or even what you’ll find, he could be anywh- “ 

Suddenly arms were around Rinah’s waist cutting off their muted conversation and ice blonde hair smothered her, “You’ll come back?” Ciri asked softly, muffled by her cheek against Rinah’s chest.

Pulling back, Rinah grabbed Ciri’s face, hands cupping her cheeks so she would look at her, “Always, I will always come back.”

Rinah took one last knowing glance upwards towards Geralt before turning her back, collecting her sword from the table behind them. The other Witcher’s watched in silence, it was unusual to hear this hall so quiet. The air felt a little colder in the absence of rambunctious energy.

As she made her way to the door, she passed Lambert; raising an eyebrow accusingly she quietly spat, “You got your way, little lamb.”  

“Rinah!” a booming voice echoed after her before Lambert could speak.

Turning on her heels she saw Geralt taking tentative steps towards her, he opened and closed his mouth as if to speak despite his face remaining steely and unfaltering.

As it had done so many times before, understanding passed wordlessly between them.

Rinah smiled tenderly before turning her back once more, calling out over her shoulder, “Our girl better be more skilled than you with a sword by the time I get back Geralt!” 

#The Witcher #jaskier #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #jaskier x oc #geralt friendship #Jaskier fluff #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

I was tagged by the ever incredible @vveissesfleisch​ to post a snippet of a WIP! Thanks bb! As it’s been a while since I visited my Witcher fic, I’ll post some from the Geralt’s and my oc Sylvie’s first conversation, under a cut for length:

Unconscious in an instant, his head lolls in the dirt as Geralt then looks up at Sylvie with a raised eyebrow. Eyes wide and face flushing at being the recipient of that golden stare, she quickly sheathes her blade again. BB quickly steps over as the witcher straightens. “Master Geralt, my deepest apologies for the chaos, and thank you for dealing with this…unfortunate matter.” “Y-Yes, thank you, sir,” Sylvie manages to stammer. A little of the severe look softens as he nods to Sylvie. “Glad to have helped. Though, it looked like you had it in hand yourself.” He crosses his arms, shifting his weight a little. “Mind telling me what happened?” “Of course, sir. I had spoken with the workers this morning, giving them their-” “All due respect, BB, and you know I value your input,” Geralt interrupts the majordomo, who blinks in surprise, “but I asked her.” Sylvie swallows, trying to pull away from just how good his compliment made her feel (A witcher? Complimenting my fighting?) so that she could answer her true employer. “Uh, well, you see, sir, BB here had been giving us our assignments for the day. Me and Roger over there are the only two workers currently that are literate, so BB wanted us to be the supervisors. But uh, Mats had a problem with having to take orders from a woman, sir.” “I see. And he challenged you then?” the witcher asks.

“Ah, no. I actually challenged him,” Sylvie responds, her cheeks heating slightly. His eyebrow raises in surprise. “You see, sir, and I mean no offense, but I’m tired of your gender thinking us women-folk are automatically…uh, what was the word…?” she mutters.

“Subservient?” BB offers, and Sylvie snaps her fingers.

“Yes, exactly! Because we’re not. So I don’t take that shit lying down anymore. It’s the thirteenth century for fuck’s sake!” Then she gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, language, I’m so sorry sirs!”

BB clears his throat in amusement as the ends of Geralt’s lips curve up, and Sylvie’s heart very nearly skips a beat. Even that small smile takes years off his face. “Not necessary. I’ve said it myself before.”

Sylvie’s brow furrows in confusion. “About it being the thirteenth century?”

A slight hint of mischief lights up that golden gaze. “Yes. But I actually meant ‘fuck.’”

#my writing #wip #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc

[rileytwenty]

Fandom: The Witcher   Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt of Rivia / OC Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Eskel, Triss Merigold, Vesemir, Original Female Character(s), Coën, Lambert

Summary: Geralt finds Calypso unconscious outside of Kaer Morhen. Calypso is from our universe, which quickly presents a problem: how she will return home? Geralt must take her with him on the journey to search for a way to transport her back to her own world. Though, in the end, will she want to return home? Will he be able to let her leave?

Repost cause I had to fix a bunch of things!!

#geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt z rivii #geralt x reader #original character #original female character #fanfiction #the witcher #witcher #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy geralt #multiverse #au #vesemir #lambert #coen #eskel

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Shift My World: Prologue (The Witcher Fanfic)

Summary: Shifting is all grand and dandy for those who believe in it. Does it work? Who knows! Some people say it does while others don't, perhaps it's just something in the mind. Olivia Watson found the truth behind it as she transfers herself into the world of The Witcher one night after a drunken movie night with her friends! Only she wasn't expecting to get stuck there and worse off...she didn't expect to love them as much as she did.

Prompt: In honor of Henry Cavill who no longer will be with us on The Witcher as Geralt of Rivia after season 3. I have decided to take my ongoing story from Wattpad to share with you guys!

Wonderland Workshop

The doorbell rang exactly at 8:30 PM on the dot. The sound was followed by the excited barking of her large and intimidating-looking wolfdog Killua named after one of her favorite anime characters from Hunter X Hunter.  The large beast damn near big enough to ride was standing up on his back legs barking at the door as his claws attempted to tear the white wooden frame down to get to the person behind the obstacle. She placed the hot pocket she had just finished taking from the microwave down quickly on the counter as if it burned her and rounded the corner of her small kitchen; her clumsy self hitting her hip on the counter edge on her way making her clutch her side with a very unladylike curse as she stumbled her way towards her apartment door. Grabbing the thick black leather of her mutt's collar she pulled with all her strength until Killua dropped down to all four paws allowing her to sidle her way to the door to unlock the deadbolt and chain. Throwing the door open she was greeted by the sight of a bundled mass of a human figure carrying multiple bags in each hand. 

"Bloody hell Liv, Killua's going to give me a heart attack one of these days! I swear he's damn near to breaking down your front door." a female's breathy voice spoke up in a puff from under the wrap of her scarf. 

Olivia's good-natured laugh ended in a snort as she reached out to grab the bags from her best friend's gloved hands replying with a jovial "Oh he's just excited to see you is all!" 

The twinkle in her blue eyes told her that probably wasn't the full truth. Killua was a wolfdog mutt after all and his loyalty dynamic with Olivia meant certain death by mutilation at his jaws if it came to it. Of course, it wasn't like McKenzie was a stranger to the apartment so the wolfdog was indeed just excited to see a familiar visitor; one that neither he nor his owner had seen for a good two weeks. As McKenzie toddled her way inside and began unraveling herself, she plopped her thick winter's clothing on the entry bench by the door all the while the large beast sniffed eagerly at her pant pockets as if searching for something. Mckenzie laughed as she finished unwrapping her scarf and set it aside before digging into her pocket to pull out a ziplock baggy that contained some beef jerky inside that she'd saved especially for the large dark gray mass sniffing at her. 

"Is this what you were searching for handsome boy?" she cooed as she knelt and picked out a piece. She was not scared as the dog licked at her fingers that held the treat right before his rather large teeth opened just wide enough to snatch the beef stick from her hands and scuttle off to his bed in the corner of the living room to eat it. 

Olivia smiled watching before wrapping her arms around her red-headed best friend. "I've missed you so much! How was the trip to visit your family in Lousiana?" she asked into her friend's shoulder as they stood in the front hallway hugging and swaying to unheard music. 

"It was good up until Aunt Grace decided she wanted to get me to know the man next door that just moved in." McKenzie laughed rolling her eyes before letting go of her friend and looking around the apartment.

"Where's Kason?" she asked frowning realizing that it was far too quiet than it normally was. 

Olivia snorted and went to the kitchen around the corner to grab them a glass of wine as she explained. "Well, Kason is out on his 3rd date this week. I swear that man is just in it for the D," she said with a fond shake of her head. 

The laughter that came from McKenzie was contagious and the two of them began laughing at just the image of Kason out on the prowl to get himself some dick. Olivia sighed as she poured herself a glass of wine after sliding over one for McKenzie and brushed a strand of silky black hair from her face. Staring down into the dark liquid of the red wine she said softly with a bit of rueful toner in her voice. "At least someone is getting a dick around here. I swear my luck with men sucks!" 

McKenzie raised a sympathetic brow as she sipped her wine and was about to say something when her green eyes lit up excitedly and she set her glass down with a little clink as she began rummaging through the crinkly grocery bags and moments later she said in triumph. "That's okay because I got your favorite ice cream, M&M's, of course, the ones with peanuts in them because it's more fun to eat. I also had to get some strawberry Twizzlers that you like because your crazy ass doesn't like the cherry version; I got myself the cherry kind because no best friend shall eat Twizzlers alone, it's like a rule or something. Oh, and of course sour gummies of all sorts of shapes; honestly I probably should have gotten you a new toothbrush too for how much your teeth are going to need it after tonight." she laughed as she settled all the items on the small kitchen counter. 

Olivia's eyes lit up excitedly and she reached for a packet of gummies but her hand was slapped away playfully "Nuh-uh! Not until we start the TV series! Although, feel free to grab a drink. I didn't know what you'd like so I sort of just raided the energy drink aisle and the alcohol aisle." the redhead pointed to the other bag on the counter.

Olivia smiled fondly. Only McKenzie would raid every aisle for the darndest things that would make her happy. Olivia and McKenzie were best friends since 1st grade when they met during a fight over something she couldn't even remember. It was funny because the raven and the redhead had a love-hate relationship up until 3rd grade after Olivia's dad passed away due to cancer; they'd been best friends and glued to the hip ever since. Even when Olivia was 16 and McKenzie moved away from her into another city they kept in touch and would go see each other every summer up until Olivia went to college where she finally reunited with her best friend. It'd been 5 years since then and at age 26 they were living their best single lives together like they always said they'd do. Only now though instead of it being the two of them it was the three of them when you added Kason a 30-year-old man who was the gayest gay man you will ever meet. But he was such a sweetheart and loved both Olivia and McKenzie like his younger sisters. He'd first met Olivia when she answered his Facebook ad for a roommate for an apartment he was renting since his last one ended badly and he needed help paying rent. From there it was history; it had been the three of them ever since. 

"Is Kason coming back anytime soon? Like should we order in some take-out and wait to start the show?" McKenzie asked breaking Olivia from her thoughtful walk down memory lane. 

The raven looked down at her phone for the time and raised a brow thoughtfully. "He actually should be coming in any-" her sentence was cut off by the sound of keys in the lock rattling. 

A moment later the door opened and slammed shut with an exasperated looking man standing there unwrapping a scarf from his neck. His dark skin was glistening with melting snowflakes from the snow outside and if his skin was not dark chocolate brown his nose would have been red as a cherry no doubt. The short man waltzed into the kitchen seeing the two women and looked like a dramatic overly tired diva and a look on his face that screamed 'I am so done!'. One look at that face and Olivia refilled her half-empty glass of wine and held it out for their best friend who gratefully took it and swallowed half of it in one go like a thirsty man in a desert. 

"I cannot believe the audacity of men these days! No wonder you are single!" Kason exclaimed as he set the glass down with a clink. 

"What on earth happened Kase?" McKenzie asked frowning as she grabbed the tub of ice cream from the fridge she'd just put in minutes before and grabbed a large spoon before sliding the container towards the black man. 

Kason grabbed the sliding container and dug himself a large spoonful of cookie dough ice cream and shoved it in his mouth as he explained looking offended and shocked at the same time. "This man seriously had the balls to ask if I was freaking trans! Me trans? Honey, I even offered to drop my pants right there and then at the restaurant for his audacity because he said my voice was so high and because the outfit I wore screamed trans...bitch what?! Like, I found this man on Grindr for fucks sake; what else was he expecting? Some 6-foot bodybuilder with a monster cock who wants to be called daddy?" he waved the spoon around in the air looking like a pure diva.

Olivia nearly choked on her wine as she took back her glass and sipped at it before she shook her head giving her roommate a look of sympathy but one that spoke volumes that she thought the situation was hilarious. McKenzie on the other hand had no problem with laughing; having to hold herself up on the counter just to be able to stand up as her body wracked with laughter. Kason rolled his eyes and snatched Olivia's glass of wine before he chugged the rest of it down and grudgingly grabbed the glass bottle of wine left over and poured himself another drink. 

"Anyways, I'm done with men. Tonight, I'm sticking to a girls night in; speaking of what the fuck are we watching? Better be no chic flick bullshit." he said as he swiped the tub of ice cream from the countertop and stalked into the living room to plop his butt on the sofa. 

Killua raised his head from where he lay on the carpet to look at the man before giving a little groan and closing his eyes to relax for the rest of the night. The girls joined him moments later with the bags of goodies in tow and refilled glasses in hand as they all gathered together on the sofa to cuddle and watch TV. 

"It's called The Witcher. It's a new TV series that just came out. I heard it's really good. Got great comments, reviews, and is one of the topmost seen shows on Netflix so far." McKenzie said as she grabbed the remote to turn the flat-screen TV on. 

"Oh, I've heard of it before. It looks pretty good." Olivia gushed with wide eyes as she realized it was a title she had heard before; she had been a little excited for it to come out since the previews looked epic as hell. 

"Has some hot guys in it too from what I've seen. Some hot chicks as well I guess if I was into girls." Kason piped up in between bites of ice cream. 

The three of them settled into the couch as the first episode began rolling. With a bit of too much wine in their system, their natural unfiltered thoughts, and running off the adrenaline from the TV show they sat there talking hours later as the last episode of that season rolled to a close. Yes, they just finished binge-watching the entire fucking season like some junkies.

"Omg Garelt is so yummy! Did you see his ass in those pants? Holy shit!" Kason fanned himself with his hand.

Olivia laughed staring up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes after one too many glasses of wine. "Oh yeah, and those eyes? Like, even his voice gives me shivers. Who plays that man because I'd like to shake his hand...and maybe shove my tongue down his throat at the same time." she laughed in a drunken stupor.

"That'd be Henry Cavill. He played in so many good movies I swear! Man of Steel is one of the ones he's well known for." McKenzie added shoving a spoonful of mostly melted ice cream into her mouth after having stolen it from Kason's iron grip.

Olivia's eyes widened and she almost leaped from the couch. "For real? I love that movie! omg I won't ever be able to look at that man again the same way!" McKenzie nodded with a knowing look in her eyes as she hummed around the spoon in her mouth. 

"Ah, he's gorgeous," Olivia muttered flopping back down beside Kason who hummed in agreement and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. 

"So, have you guys heard of this thing called Shifting?" McKenzie asked suddenly as the silence broke. 

The two others raised a brow and looked at her funny and she just shrugged poking at the tub of ice cream as she explained. "So, I'm not into the whole witchy shit but I've been on TikTok so much recently that's all I ever see really. Like, it's this thing where you manifest yourself into your dream world or the world of your comfort character or whatever the hell it is," she explained shrugging. 

Kason reached over and grabbed her wrist gently and gave her a gentle look. "It's around your brother's anniversary isn't it?" he asked kindly. 

McKenzie gave a weak smile and turned away again as she continued to explain while Kason and Olivia listened and watched her with understanding eyes. "I've seen so many people on TikTok give their reactions and tell of what happened when they successfully shifted into their favorite anime worlds and shit. Others tell how to do it or tips on how to do it successfully and I dunno I guess I just..." she fell silent and Olivia stood up from beside Kason to be able to walk the two steps over to McKenzie's other side and plopped back down to cuddle her. Resting her head on her shoulder she sighed softly. 

"I'm sorry babe. I know it's hard...It's probably nothing but clout...but, if you'd like we can always look into getting a tarot card reading or something...." she offered hesitantly. 

None of them believed in magic or witches and stuff; none of them were religious either for their reason. But, even so, they'd give it a try if it meant supporting each other. Truth was, a few years ago McKenzie's older brother passed away in a tragic car accident on his way home for Christmas and McKenzie blamed herself for his death; she never got over it which was understandable because he was on the way to her house where he was staying and was so excited to see her again that he refused to take shelter during a storm which caused him to not see the car in front of him during the blizzard and crash; killing himself and the other person in the other vehicle. 

"Anyways, that shifting business seems funny, right? Heard all you have to do is write down how you'd like it to play out going in as much detail as possible before lying down as if going to sleep while saying some sort of mantra in your head; next thing you know you'll wake up in another world and the only way to return to yours is to say your safe word you'd wrote in the manuscript. How funny would it be if we could write something like that for this show and end up there?" she continued blabbering on in hopes to lighten the mood while changing the subject.

Kason snorted and shook his head. "Girl you be crazy. Only in my dreams would that ever be for real," he said.

"I think that's the point, Kase." Olivia laughed and shook her head before looking at the night and groaning. "Guys, I gotta be up in like 5 hours for work. Help me clean this up before we head to bed okay? Hell, you can stay up if you want but my cranky ass is needing a bed right now." Olivia said standing up to her feet and began picking up the trash off the floors and coffee table.

"Gurl we got it! Go ahead and head to bed. Kenzie and I got it; we'll head to bed right after." Kason said waving the raven off as he stood and got the lights clicked on.

The redheaded woman gave a smile and nodded waving her bestie away who gave a reluctant smile before heading down the hall to her small bedroom. But even after she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and dressed in her comfiest of pajamas she couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was the wine talking in her system or her sleep-deprived brain; hell could even be her lady bits below speaking to her. But she found it the best idea to hop out of bed and grab an old notebook that she hadn't fully used up in her college years and began writing. She didn't even realize what she was writing until the last period was placed. At this point, the pages were all over her bed and the lights outside her door were turned off; it was silent in the apartment so she guessed it'd been a while since she began writing. Kason was probably in his room right now asleep and McKenzie passed out on the couch with Killua guarding like the faithful mutt he was. But here she was still awake and staring at pages upon pages of scribbling writing with eyes that were beginning to blur. She was so tired and her fingers were cramping from holding her pencil for god knows how long. She didn't even realize what she'd written until her eyes picked up a few snippets of words. Geralt-Rivia-Roach-Blaviken-Jaskier and others made her foggy mind click into place. She started laughing then realized just what she was writing and rolled her eyes. Her stupid drunk mind thought it'd be a great idea to write a manuscript off the idea of shifting into the world of the Witcher TV series. Damn McKenzie and her wild imaginations bleeding into Olivia's open mind. 

She stood then and gathered the scattered pages of her hard work and dumped them into the trashcan by her closet door and returned to bed. She reached to click off her bedside lamp before her eyes got drowned in the bundle of papers in the trash bin. A frown tugged at her brows as if she couldn't understand why she felt disappointed and upset at shoving the papers in there. It was just silly nonsense, right? Just some trend on Tiktok that people used to get clout and get views by using the idea of shifting and world jumping to the simps of the viewers. They were all so gullible; she was gullible too. But even still those papers just didn't sit well with the woman so after tossing and turning she finally flung the covers off and hopped out of bed to gather said paperwork and plopped them onto her nightstand so that in the morning she would figure out what to do with them. Finally feeling fewer ants in her pants she allowed herself to close her eyes and let the drowsy effects of the alcohol pull her into slumber. 

When she finally awoke after a blissful 2-hour sleep it was not to the sound of birds chirping outside her window or the sound of nails clawing at her door. It was not even the smell of fresh coffee or breakfast being made that she knew Kason would be making as he did every morning as she got ready for work. No, instead of her normal routine wake-up call she got something splashing her in the face. She yelped sitting up from her bed wiping her face expecting to see a laughing McKenzie but instead, she saw nothing but darkness around her and the sound of the howling wind around her. Trees loomed overhead waving in the said wind making the night sky look even eerier than before. There were no lights out but the moon behind a few clouds that rolled by slowly. What was worst the water she felt a splash on her was not water but in a sense mud. That much she could tell from the goop that stained her fingertips and was slowly drying cold on her face and hair. Her blue eyes widened as she looked left and then right realizing she was not in her bedroom in her apartment anymore. She was in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere that she did not recognize. Was this some sort of prank done by McKenzie and Kason because if it were she did not find it the least bit funny. Panic started to claw up her throat until she felt something soft and velvety brush her hair and she yelped; damn near having a heart attack as she jerked back and looked up into the darkness expecting some sort of monster but instead found the long face of a ...horse? She blinked confused at this revelation as she looked around once more. 

She was literally in the middle of nowhere in the woods and there was a horse? What the hell was going on? The horse though did not seem to mind her and instead seemed curious enough to sniff at her and paw at the ground which resulted in more mud flying onto her clothing. That explained the mud shower that awoke her at least. She gave a shaky smile and reached up a hand to stroke the soft snout of the beast above her. It was a pretty brown or maybe chestnut color; hard to tell in the dark but she could tell that it was bridled and saddled already making her wonder where on earth its rider was. Frankly, she wanted to know where she was too. Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant scream of some sort of animal in the distance; it didn't sound like any animal she'd heard before outside of horror movies and the scream made shivers of discomfort roll down her spine making her instinctively rise to her feet and inch closer to the horse that stood alert and waiting in the moonlight that filtered through the gaps of clouds in the sky. 

The sound of crunching twigs and underbrush echoed around her making her unable to pinpoint where it was coming from between the distance screams of some sort of animal or creature in the darkness and the area she was in. Her heart hammered in her chest as she swallowed thickly and reached up to place a shaking hand on the horse's reigns; expecting to leap up onto its back and ride away as fast as possible if need be. She didn't know where she was and she wasn't going to risk having a bear or wolf attack her in these woods; what a pathetic way to die after waking up muddy, wet, and cold in the middle of nowhere. Another twig snapped right behind her and she screamed a little while spinning around on her heels just in time to see a large mass barrel towards her. The impact forced the air from her lungs in a painful rush as a large and heavy mass of fur collided with her. A pair of golden eyes stared down at her as white sharp teeth poised over her face threateningly. She was going to die and she was going to die mutilated by a wolf just like she feared. But she didn't. Instead, the weight shifted and a wet nose pressed against her cheek inquisitively making her whimper a little and peek open an eye to stare at the wolf in front of her. Wait, why did it look so familiar? The beast crawled off of her with its tail wagging a little and sat down allowing her to fully take in the large animal. It wasn't a wolf. Well, not a full-bred wolf anyways. She knew those eyes right away and a rush of relief flooded her as she flung her arms around the wolf's thick neck and hugged him.

"Killua!" she breathed a relieved sigh as she nuzzled her face into his grey neck fur. The wolfdog that she remembered seemed to be a lot bigger than she remembered him back home and looked a little more wolfish than normal too. She frowned pulling back to study him; he was her Killua but he looked so much like his mother right now with his wolfish features.

As she studied him his demeanor changed quickly as he suddenly rose to his paws and took a few steps over her as if shielding the woman whilst his lips drew back in a warning snarl and his coarse fur stood up on end to make himself look twice as big as he usually was. Olivia tensed as she grasped fistfuls of his fur and buried her face into his side as if trusting him to hide her. The scream of whatever was in front of them pierced her ears so loudly she had to clasp her hands over her ears and she whimpered crouching into herself. Killua snarled right back and leaped towards the ugliest creature Olivia had ever seen; it looked like something out of a fantasy horror movie or something as the large dark form of her wolfdog collided with the weird spiderlike-figure in front of them. Teeth snapped and tore into black flesh as dagger-like fingers swiped back and forth trying to dislodge the large mass clinging to its body. Olivia's blue eyes widened and she felt the air leave her lungs as she watched helplessly as her animal best friend fought off a monster for her safety. 

Feeling as if she had to do something she reached for a large jagged stick by her side on the ground and grasped the thick wood she began rising to her feet. Just as the unknown beast flung Killua off causing him to be slammed into a tree making him let out a pained yelp and a crunch of bones. Olivia's eyes widened and a fire of fury filled her chest as she gripped the sharp stick like a spear and bolted for the ugly thing as it turned its back on her to finish off her mutt. Not on her watch! But a human woman and a stick wouldn't do much against such a creature which was well learned in a split second as the beast turned around hearing her battle cry of fury and turned to her; swiping its tail at her making the connection with her side and flinging her off to the side. She tumbled and rolled a few times before skidding to a halt against a rock. She coughed up the mixture of bile and blood that rose to her throat at the intense flare of pain in her entire body. She felt like gasoline had been poured into her veins as she struggled to rise. A mass of red spread quickly into her shirt across her side and a glance down spoke volumes of why. A large jagged hole gushed blood from her side every time she moved to light her flesh in fire and pain each time. She swallowed thickly and looked back up towards the beast that stalked towards her before looking towards Killua who lay struggling to rise after being impaled by a branch of the tree he had been flung into.

A pain flared in her heart worse than the wound on her side. Her lip quivered as she realized that Killua was probably dying right now and she was going to die too in this unknown cold place. She tried her best at least right? That's all that counted. She winced lying against the boulder behind her and gave a faint smile that spoke of her surrender to the inevitable. She closed her eyes expecting to feel more pain. She expected some tearing of flesh, broken bones, and pain that did not come as expected but instead, she heard a distant scream at the back of her mind as her consciousness was fogging up her mind from the rapid loss of blood. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe...Her eyes fluttered open to peer one last time through cloudy vision just in time to see the creature struggling against a figure; a human figure that wielded a sword against its defenses and was cutting the beast down. She saw a shock of white, a gleam of mental, and the last thing she remembered was a pair of golden eyes staring down at her right before her eyes fell shut and her mind went blank.

Next Chapter

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia x fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #titlemewickedwonderland #shift my world #henry cavill

[court-jobi]

Night Walks and Good Talks

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 5,558

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: mild descriptions of injury/poison; none

A/N: Another rest point for the Witcher and Kenna… these little moments are few and far between for two widely-versed travellers! Kenna may have a chance to settle down on the horizon… what will Geralt think of this news? And what might she think when more is shared about how her strong, silent Witcher really sees himself. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   

Kenna learns more about Geralt’s motives during his visit tonight. She knows he's looking for someone, and is spending any moment of quiet he can chance to rest up and plan his next move while he’s on the search. A certain buzz in her belly has been acting up whenever he comes around, though– and it’s making her more curious by the day.

Geralt values Kenna’s help and ear, tonight as always. Rare find, to have a friend to catch-up with who’s not engrossed in politics and stress and all the hazards of the day. He can just unwind with Kenna in the cool of a night like this, taking a walk to clear the lungs and keep her tucked under his arm… something he– doesn’t realize he’s doing until she walks in stride with him. For some reason, it just feels natural and he’s not so sure he wants it to stop. Still, he wonders how much he can really confide in her, or risk changing her view of him entirely.

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Kenna

When Kenna lifted her gaze from her tablespoon’s careful measurements at the light of the opening door, a welcome sight crossed the threshold. She scrunched her nose familiarly to greet Geralt as he strode into the tavern’s landing. It’s been almost three days now that he’s been out on hunts around the outskirts. The contracts he picked up were personal favours to follow up on recently, so he said before he set off. 

Geralt nodded back with tired eyes, but a firm-lipped smile back. The two shared an understanding that when her hands were busy with something small, accuracy was likely needed. 

Ever the hostess, Kenna would normally assure him that she would come over to his table soon when she arrived at a stopping point— but she froze, and looked to him again in a comical double-take:

Melitele’s freakish Grace and Favour… 

Geralt got a haircut. A good one.

Positioned from his perfect side profile, Kenna watched as the Witcher shed his swords and was currently reloading and aligning his crossbow at the bench of his table, nearest the fire. While his habitual maintenance was nothing new, her sights fixed on his now edgy undercut, shorn from the base of his neck up just so until a low-pulled ponytail gathered the rest of his hair. His beard also has been trimmed up, likely by the same barber. Its white and grey flecks mixed together more noticeably now in a shorter length, but still visible enough to catch the amber light.

Kenna caught herself. Not from self awareness sending her in a daze- but from a nudge from the owner’s young daughter, who tugged at the bottom of her skirt from the chosen hiding place beneath the table.

“More?” The child whined not-so subtly, and asked for the next batch of jerky to fill her plate.

Kenna huffed a little laugh and slid her a few more pieces from the seasoning rack. 

“Not too much more, kiddo- or else your mama will have my head if I spoiled your dinner. I’ll be right back okay? No snooping up top, hear me?”

The girl munched and swept her pile of dried apricots she’d chosen to play with into her lap, nodding blindly to Kenna’s soft warning.  Satisfied, Kenna deemed it safe enough to leave the child unattended for just a moment.

Wiping her hands of a few stray pollen granules chalking up her fingertips, Kenna slipped behind the bar to fill up a stein and drop it off Geralt's way. 

“Hey, stranger. Welcome back~.”

“Afternoon, Kenna. Thanks-” the Witcher looked up with a soft smile. He took a sip, albeit brief since a question spurred him with a playful snark, “Can’t still think I’m that much of a stranger to you by now, am I?”

Kenna crossed her arms, keeping her flirtatious outburst to a minimum but skewing her lip with interest, 

“Could have fooled me. I’ve never seen your hair up like that. You look like a new man.”

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Geralt clicked the last piece into place to secure his arrow and set it down, leaning back to fully enjoy his drink in the booth. “Got a bit of a shave while I was in Riverdell, east side of Toussaint. Got a friend of a friend there that came recommended.”

“You find a 'friend' everywhere you go, huh?”

“More and more these days- m’glad for any help I can get.”

“Good for you. It’s about time.” 

Kenna supported his efforts always, but couldn't help but cock her head admiring the new head-on angle of his updated look. 

Geralt noted her attention, of course. He always caught on quick to the smallest things. His brevity, initially more set on enjoying his drink, turned inquisitive as he sought her opinion on it.

“Haven’t gone for anything this short before. It was getting a bit warm underneath, so I thought I’d try it out. What do you think?”

“It’s– a good look, I can’t lie.” Kenna complimented with a surprised smile.

Geralt appeared pleased at this. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’ll have all the rebel ladies drooling over you,” Kenna sassed busying herself at the counter for a moment- anything to get a grip from leering at him.

Geralt chuckled mirthlessly at this, and shook his head seeking sympathy from the floorboards. Clearly the man wasn’t the sort for vanity.

“Not looking for that kind of attention. From others, I mean… Appreciate your encouragement though.” Geralt winked in her direction. 

Oh did she wish her heart wouldn’t stutter so easily when he did that. 

Muting a nervous school-girl laugh, Kenna plated Geralt up some of the same jerky and some tart field strawberries and stopped off at his table one more time. Getting back to her work would give her enough incentive to finish up and spend the evening she wanted with the ever enticing Witcher.

“Well, intentional lady killer or not,”Kenna centered back on him, “it’s a nice look on you and I do like it. I gotta take care of a few things, but we’ll catch up later, yeah? I wanna hear about that job taking you all the way to Beauclaire.  I bet the food was a-mazing.”

Geralt fingered around for one of the berries before eating it whole and nodding back. 

“I won’t spoil it for you. Take your time.”

And take her time she did. Kenna went back to her portioning and child-care for the next few hours while Geralt simply sat content to care for his weapons and eat. 

Kenna caught glances at Geralt a few times when her eye wandered. As early evening grew closer, he’d be reading over some papers and writing on occasion by the oil lamplight as the sun started going down. Kenna rested in the fact that at least Geralt was taking a break in his own way to gather his thoughts- and in an environment that was more comfortable than being stuck out in the middle of a forest all alone. At least here, she could grant him a refill or two and give him another human to talk to. Not that Roach was ever to be considered poor company...

With sunset came the usual dinner rush and patrons spilling in to rest in the early evening firelight. Each table filled up quickly, parties catching up with friends of their own while Dandelion started regaling the small hall with storysongs to pass the time. He was well received here; Kenna knew he would be. Given Roggeven’s strong positioning on the river, travellers from all over would come into the Gull’s Nest sooner or later on their visit- and would be excited to recognize Dandelion by name and want to come enjoy his repertoire. All was going according to plan here on this stop and for that, Kenna was grateful- and more willing to put up with the small gigs that bookended this stop along the way to the shining goal of setting up in Novigrad. 

Providing favours and independent sales of her goods were proving very profitable, actually- and efficient as she hoped her portable enterprise could be. Fortune certainly favoured her in Roggeven, and for every member of her party... though not quite favouring the body, as it grew more tired by the hour. 

The riverside location of the city was great in terms of walkthrough traffic; but could hardly be called comfortable or quiet accommodations, by that very token. The beds were squished together in their cohabited space, so Kenna roused intermittently to listen to the cacophony of Dandelion’s midnight mumblings, Terrance’s snores, plus each and every drunk carrying on outside. All this from the discomfort of a poorly-boarded bed frame that lifted against her lower back every night…

But to her credit, Kenna was hardly one to complain of lack of sleep. Truthfully, she could operate on little as it was and has slept in far worse conditions out in the wilds. But the toll on the body did have its drawbacks when she was supposedly given the promise of ‘plentiful accommodations' from their host…

With a moment to use the countertop of the worktable as means to help her stretch out her back with a solid grip on something, Kenna twisted about left and right waiting for the satisfying pops to free up the tension lodged between each vertebrae. Spooking a jump up her spine, she heard a low chuckle from over her shoulder. 

Geralt, keenly studying and sipping his ale casually as ever, leaned back against the end of the bar. 

"Had enough excitement for today?" The Witcher’s cheeky stance wryly waited, watching her bend stiffly upright again.

“I wouldn't call today exciting- pretty much the opposite. Boring and a bit repetitive.” Kenna primped around her waistband despite the tie of the apron cutting into her. “-And my back is paying for it. But, it was probably filled with more people and conversation than you care for.”

“You’d be surprised. Went on a bit of a scavenger hunt around the city today. Picked up some clues I’ve had an eye out for. Had to talk to a lot of people. Said 'please' and 'thank you' all day- you’d have been proud.”

Kenna huffed with a weary smile, “Well, look who’s growing up; networking like the best of ‘em.”

Geralt rolled his eyes flatly. “Don’t get too excited. I got what I came for- so it’s back to the lone wolf status for me for a while.”

“You seem pretty habitual for a lone wolf. Communal, even-” Kenna countered, “what, with you turning up everywhere Dandelion's gone recently. We could almost call you a groupie by this point. I think you actually miss seeing some friendly faces.”

“Friendly faces are always worth the visit; those don’t count. I never mind talking with you.” 

Geralt looked off to somewhere in the room, 

“--Now Dandelion? That thorn in my side is hit or miss.”

“Ouch, poor Dandie!” Kenna hushed a giggle down her chest, not wanting to betray her friend so blatantly, but still tickled by Geralt’s blunt delivery.

Poor bard, singing about the room unaware of the snide remarks… 

Kenna laughed easily at the end of the day, whatever the subject matter of jokes. Even Geralt’s dryness was welcome, after a day of being mannerable and hospitable to reel in clients and customers. Putting on airs and charms galore was tiring, as was effectively babysitting a child on top of her other responsibilities. 

She felt a sinking ease around Geralt every time he came by for a spell- and she hoped he felt the same. This was a nice little habit they were falling into.

Even now as she finished her cleaning up routine and might have normally turned in for the night any other day of the week, Kenna felt a second wind take over. Hands dried, she came to Geralt’s side of the bar to finally catch up properly.

Kenna tossed her apron aside for the first time today.  There were plenty of odd tucks of her shirt around the middle where her corset didn't quite wrap around fully, but at the end of the day, ‘style over substance’ hardly mattered. 

"Whew... No offence to the maestro here, but I could probably use some air, honestly.” 

Geralt hummed at her idea, watching over the room in his standoffish brand of quiet.

The idea came when her lower back cramped at the slightest movement, “Care to join me? Just for a walk around?" 

Geralt agreed, with a quick gulp to down the rest of his drink.

"Couldn’t hurt. Lead the way."

Outside, the air was beginning to cool and fog would be rolling in soon past midnight. The bells had rung the ten o’clock hour not long ago, but many of the ground floor taverns around the city were still alive and well at this point of the night. Here in the docking district, the liveliness of every establishment within four blocks could be heard by their boisterous bouts of laughter, inciting shouts for low-stakes fights, and calls for more and more beer. A jolly enough place to warm up, but maybe too raucous for Kenna’s taste after a day of fielding complaints and orders about the ‘Gull’s Nest Tavern’. 

Kenna hadn’t quite planned on keeping children from touching distillery burners and stove tops, or any other hazard-watching that monopolised her day… The cool, biting air made Kenna realize this was the first time she’d stepped outside since yesterday morning.

Here along the boardwalk’s edge, Kenna and Geralt walked at an unrushed pace. Taller and even-paced, Geralt took the curb along the water’s edge, keen eyes on the ripple patterns and reflective moonbeams skimming the top, while Kenna took in the sight of the stars, lamplights and everything on the side of the streets. This was one of lower tier areas of the staggered city, situated on a precarious hillside. But here on the outskirts closest to the river, the rush of crowded streets made for some rare quiet at night- and for plenty of stars to be visible without the clouds of steam rising about from the city’s daytime activities. Autumn would be around the bend soon which would mean more business in the weeks ahead. Kenna valued sleepy nights like this to be the calm before the storm. 

“How’s your hand doing?”

Geralt piped up from their quiet lull in conversation, calling Kenna’s gaze back to him. 

Kenna hummed, but remembered a moment later. Her hands stayed tucked in her pockets as they walked to keep warm, but she remembered her left digit's canvas wrap was still warming her wrist as it had all day. Became like a second skin, it did- conforming to the curve of her palm while healing, that is.

“Hm? Oh yes- it’s much better. Hasn’t given me much trouble at all the last few days, really.” 

Kenna’s gratefulness shone in her eyes, sliding her hand out and giving it a cursory flip for Geralt to watch the ease of how she could move it now.  

Geralt gave a neutral hum back and a small nod of approval. Simple as he treated the question, Kenna still warmed at the knowledge of how he’d played a role in the remedy of the injury:

Sunrise greeted Geralt’s final stop before heading to Beauclaire, but without Kenna’s presence at the inn as he expected. She would come in a few hours later: nervously shaking and sporting a long, barbed needle embedded on the fleshy outer part of her left hand, a casualty of her foraging. 

As it turns out, Kenna mistakenly selected a more poisonous plant for a mild one to weed through on her early morning walk. 

Having forgotten proper gloves (which, naturally, Geralt groused at her for forgetting after the fact), Kenna stumbled inside making a beeline for her quarters. Even from a distance, he heard the woman managing small winces and nearly tearing up over its fiery pain that she wasn't ready for. She rarely made a mistake that resulted in wounds- careful as she was to handle bark, barbs, and sharp exteriors of succulents. Quick as ever, a rush spurred Kenna back to her workroom for some hot water and a blade to leverage it out, but the deep green barb proved troublesome and she was growing feverish at an alarming rate. Something was wrong about this little pin prick, but Kenna hadn’t realized at the time how dire it was.

Not until Geralt swooped into the room without announcement- finding her fruitlessly trying to fuss at the injured hand. Geralt immediately knew what to do. Directing a frantic Dandelion at his heels, he called around the room with curt orders of what he needed in order to help her. 

The first task involved telling her how he identified the indeed poisonous barb, and how to extract it properly. Kenna’s gut twisted at the embarrassment she found herself into, but she hardly had time to berate herself with what the present was forcing her to address.

Puzzling– Geralt pulled a potion from his belt and started swishing some around his mouth before swallowing. Not unlike a palace taste tester would do his duty. Before Kenna could even ask what he was planning on doing to help, Geralt motioned for Dandelion to give him the empty cup on the table so it would be in close reach for him. Supplies set, Geralt braced Kenna with a calm assurance coupled with a tender grip on her wrist. 

A 1-2-3 warning later, the Witcher skillfully worked the blunt edge of a sterilised paring knife against the quill to coax the needle out swiftly— 

Then latched his lips to her hand.

… And started sucking.

Kenna’s frustrated tears stopped altogether. Watching in half horror- half awe at Geralt drawing out whatever greenish-black poison was afflicting her with gentle suction and subsequently spitting its remains out into the stein. 

Golden Oriole: the elixir he’d prepped with, was to thank for its anti-venom qualities. He’d later devine that its alchemical makeup served to combat what had begun to process in her bloodstream when applied soon after injection. 

But again, this saving grace solution was granted to her by Geralt’s very lips and tongue- never mind the fire-lit glance he chanced up to her eyes for the briefest moment while he effectively lapped at her palm. That look nearly stopped her heart altogether.

In the end, a simple herb paste was all that was recommended to apply after that incident once Geralt deemed her in the clear; along with orders of plenty of fluids to flush her system out. His hovering watch over her  that evening while everyone sat entertained by Dandelion’s program of the night didn't go unnoticed, either.

The memory alone burned in her, even now- unorthodox didn’t begin to cover that day.

Kenna could look back on the incident now with a safe sense of recovery and relief, though she couldn’t stave off the odd sense of wonder and… dare she say attraction to how Geralt had worked on her hand so gently. Surely that wasn’t part of his Witcher training, right?

“Herbs worked wonders, just like you said. And uh–” Kenna pocketed her hands again with a little lilt to her step and a gentle nudge to his arm in a purposefully friendly gesture,  “-you certainly gave it the best chance at healing.”

Geralt’s sights fell away from her at the emphasis on his tactics. Shyly, Kenna dared to think? The man’s head cocked aside nonchalantly and carried on like it was nothing. Perhaps for him, it was all part of the job.

“Poison’s nasty stuff. ‘Course I hope now, someone’s learned her lesson about wearing some damn gloves next time? You should every time, really.”

“I know, it wasn’t my finest decision,” Kenna sighed, recalling his previous lecture as well. “I blame it on my lack of caffeination and wherewithal to act sensibly that early in the morning.”

“Hm. Not an early morning person... Figured you’d be sunshine and roses the second you wake up. Always are, when I see you.”

Kenna sneered playfully back, 

“I’ll spare you that experience then, Master Witcher. Fortunately, no one back in the troupe knows my secret. I’ve got to have some black coffee and two sugars before I can open my mouth and have something remotely kind come out. S’why I’m up before everyone else for breakfast.”

Kenna in her gentleness really wasn’t that temperamental. Geralt knew that, so a muted smile lifting his weathered cheeks. But he still leaned into the tease with devilish intent,

“Note to self: hide all cacao beans from Dandelion’s stash… Then watch and wait for draconic activity to take over the area.”

Kenna gasped with indignation, “You wouldn’t dare. That’s mean.”

“Never said I was nice, Kenna.” Geralt looked back at her with a slight warning. 

“You are nice,” Kenna replied lightly. “Doesn’t matter how much you try and show off otherwise- mean guys don’t have half the heart or moral backbone you do.”

The Witcher slowed a bit when she said this. 

But before Kenna could check back and wonder why he stopped matching her gait, Geralt flashed a look behind them and pulled Kenna by the waist across him towards the inside shoulder of the road–

A cart teetering about recklessly with some hollering sailors blew past the two, trotting haphazardly across the bend of the road. 

Managing her breath from the sudden interruption, Kenna tipped back up to Geralt’s firm focus on the passing cart. The steely-eyed man muttered something of an annoyed curse under his breath. She had to smirk, because this only proved her point. His hand hadn’t left her upper back as he embraced her close- no longer a sudden reflex. 

Kenna dropped her facetious tone. She meant every word of this:

“Mean guys wouldn’t have done that, either.”

Geralt managed to level off his irritation under Kenna’s expectant hazel gaze. He simply smoothed up her back to squeeze her shoulder assuringly, and pocketed his other hand in his long brigandine’s outer vest. 

A simple hum was all he gave in response.

Kenna took advantage of the arrangement and chuckled easily. Reaching back to settle her arm more comfortably along his waistcoat -just higher than a belt would be- Kenna practically snuggled into Geralt’s side, and walked them both onward.

“C'mon, you think I’m alright sometimes…” Kenna pulled the grump along out of his flash of protective anger. Geralt fell into step with her as she led- and left his hand where it was. “-even if I forget my gloves and make you worry.”

“You don’t make me worry.” Geralt shook his head and faced ahead on their walk. “You’re probably the only one here who’s capable of wrangling the cats of Dandelion’s company."

Kenna beamed for the moment…

But in true fashion, the snide remarks soon followed:

"What I pity is your sense of patience," Geralt breezed. "It’s going to give you angina and a premature death if you stay with the bard much longer- knowing the stunts he pulls when he gets too antsy on the road.” 

The visual of the rapscallions mucking about the kitchen like they so often did in the mornings made Kenna laugh bright and easy again. The fact each of them were so lovable in their own way- messy and uncoordinated habits and all- endeared them to her in their predictability, and it was not a hardship. After all, she knew what she was getting into.

“And what would you suggest Dandie does in my stead, huh?” Kenna asked, “Say I left tomorrow: you really think he could keep the books in order, pay his levy and touring taxes to the right officers, get any actual vegetables in his diet, and feed his creative genius for this cabaret plan all on his own? Let alone fund it?”

Geralt’s fingers scratched along Kenna’s shoulder seam lightly.

“Someone needs to fill that job, alright. Just–” Geralt’s eyes fell along her facial features with a subtle regard, “Take the benefactor's hunt alone; that's a big ask. I’d say that for theatre types and bards, alike. Finding patrons to support their efforts and talking up their shows is a full time gig.”

“-That pays as a full time gig,” Kenna assured. “One I didn’t mind taking on from the start. I think it turned out for the best. There were plenty of opportunities for both of us.”

“So you’ve said.”

As a gull flew to its nest along the pier’s awnings above them, Kenna ran through the gameplan in case Geralt hadn’t received the sales pitch from Dandelion already.

“I know it started as a means to run through my old haunts, coming along with Dandelion- with some added company along the way. But when I have the time between destinations, he gets my services as a manager who can make sense of his artist-addled brain cells so he can do what he’s best at.”

Geralt hummed again. “Hm, makes sense. Still sounds like you’re putting most of the work in while he flits around.”

“He can flit around all he wants,”  Kenna waved her bandaged hand a bit for emphasis, “Dandie works the crowd! Men like him aren't that hard to handle. He’s not getting any younger, you know, so his ‘flitting’ days are numbered.” Kenna made a small poke at his expense; “I know you know he thinks he’s not a day over twenty. He acts like quite the party animal- but he’s out like a light after the 8 bell on a regular weeknight.”

Geralt burst out a rough laugh at this. A strong, stroking thumb teased by Kenna’s neck with a little squeeze to her shoulder. 

“Hell, you’re way too nice for your own good, sweet thing.” 

“What? He can entertain himself and ‘schmooze’ the feathered-hat clubs he’s so familiar with… meanwhile, he leaves me to my work that ends up helping us both in the end. Insider's information and some pocket money. Creative package deal, but it works fine for us!”

Geralt hummed, considering her words. Kenna sweetened the deal, 

“He’s really got big plans for this place in Novigrad," Kenna introduced Dandelion's efforts, "Plans to make it a haven for folks of all kinds and trades. Starting off with me, I guess; and we can see where it grows when he gets settled in. And, like you said yourself, I get to see some familiar faces every now and again while I’m on this stretch of the journey there.”

“Hm,” Geralt conceded. “And when you get to Novigrad- what are your plans then? Pretty far aways from White Orchard.”

Kenna followed the lamplights along the river again, "I was never going to stay in White Orchard. I'd been toying with the idea for a northlands circuit anyways for some seasonal resources. I don't really need a home base to care for,"

Kenna looked up to Geralt again, finding him already looking at her. Smile teasing one side of her lips up at his attention, she simply summed up her answer.

"I'm happy enough to see where the wind takes me."

A gust crossed their path just then– brushing some pieces of hair into both eyes and mouth in a funny bluster. 

With a little huff, Geralt chuckled and pulled her hair aside with his nearby hand; its leather crackled and softly fussed against her cheek.

"As long as you don't start eating the wind, that is."

Kenna beamed at the ease Geralt was settled into now. To have a break and let down after such a busy few contracts… Kenna was secretly hoping more and more chances like this would be in their future- arm slack across her shoulders or not. 

“You’ve gotta be craving a bit of quiet yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, flipping the rest of her errant curls back from the wind. “That last trip sounded exhausting.”

Geralt shook his head, “Even if I wanted it, won’t happen anytime soon. On the hunt.”

“Big job?”

A wisp of a pause kept Geralt from likely saying too much.

“...Big undertaking. Bit more personal than others.”

“I see,” Kenna let him keep his secrets, for now. “I’ll leave you to your hero-ing then.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Ehh, you kind of are!”

"I'm not the hero people want.” Geralt softened the firm delivery his voice usually carried, “ I just do the work no one else will."

Kenna held back a chortle.

“What’s that look for.”

"Pretty heroic thing to say, Geralt."

"I mean I'm not--"

 Kenna sighed with familiar patience, "Not what?"

Geralt slowed his pace again, but slipped his hand down Kenna’s back in the process. His eyes trailed along her shoulder down to where he lingered at her side. 

"I'm not what you think I am."

As usual, Kenna tired of Geralt’s self-deprecating tendencies when it came to his talents. 

Talents, she’d decided, because while witchers may have been engineered as hunters and killers by way of disposition and capabilities, she believed the extent of a successful one was determined by choosing to grow that skillset. Credit his School of the Wolf, Geralt claimed as far as Witcher training goes… but in Kenna’s eyes, this did not guarantee that one would have the ideal blend of both instinct and a good moral backbone– Geralt held both of these traits. 

Geralt might see himself as just a Witcher trying to make his way, but Kenna –somehow– thought better of him. There’s power in choice; his just as much as her own. 

"I know what you are, even though I know you won't believe me."

Geralt gave  pause, hearing her out. 

Kenna turned to sidle up to him, towards the riverfront for a change of view, 

"And I also know the reason why you won’t…” she eased his arm back over her shoulder, "-is because you've been treated like ‘less than’ for the longest time. Sure, you've learned to not hold onto the hate, like you say… but you've let another core belief in that you do not deserve:”

Her hip swayed into his, getting his attention, 

“I reckon not letting the bad things get to you has conditioned the opposite- meaning, you'll not accept the good things much, either... But you don't deserve that, Geralt. You deserve to hear the truth, and that truth is that you are nice. You are good, and not by any sort of blessing or curse. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t do it. And I can believe there’s a lot you care about, and more than just money.”

Geralt considered this, and perked again when she continued,

“So whatever hunt you’re on? You’ll sort it out. Maybe you don’t wanna be called a hero for it, but I can try my best to make you feel appreciated, at least. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you believe better for yourself. "

He didn’t look her back in the eye as she did, but he couldn’t hide the smirk  that appeared when he chipped his chin up over the river.

"Sounds like rotten work. Sure you have plenty better things to do." 

"Not your call to make, I'm afraid,” Kenna looked out to the river, too. "Call me invested, Master Witcher. You don't get a say in this one." 

Geralt squeezed her in again, all while not letting her get the chance to see his face.

What she’d trade and harvest and grind away at the mill to be able to make the rough n' ready Witcher smile for once. 

"If you say so."

The smile carried in Geralt’s low voice, so she didn’t need to see.

The owls called out their own morningsong, and Kenna settled back under Geralt’s arm. 

“Nice night.”

“Mhm.”

Geralt

In the moment, she probably thought a pep talk was all he needed.

But Geralt? If Kenna only knew the pang of humanity that resounded in his chest hearing the words leave her mouth: ‘You deserve more.’

All he could remember for years before now was each fleeting interaction he had, which were many. Intimidation, fear and disgust fluttered over the countenance of just about everyone who greeted him. Washes of panic and eerie quiet silenced them every time. 

But her? None of these even crossed her mind, it seemed. Never once did fear fill her eyes when she looked at him. Kenna only ever had a spot saved for him by the fire, food on the table, and someone with a sweet voice to catch-up with after days or weeks spent alone in the Wilds. No, nothing but the finest sort of respect, of kindness, congeniality. Something akin to-

"You coming, Master Witcher?"

A nudge up for Roach to get a move on, Geralt pulled himself from his distraction, too.

"Think that's up to Roach, now."

A lovely flutter of chuckles spring from Kenna's chest, the sound turning into a coo over to Roach. With a bribe of an apple from Kenna’s waist pocket, the brown mare jumped into step from the patch of grass and followed Kenna's lead further into the wooded grove, the Witcher left to trail after them both.

Her call -a sweet, genteel 'come here, pretty girl'- is one he's biting his own tongue from letting loose.

Kenna chances looks at Geralt over her shoulder that he follows, with a lilting smile- her gratitude for his company so she didn't have to walk the rest of the trail alone back to Roggeven Proper. Not for protection or making sure she’s staying away from the poisonous bits- just 'pleasurable company', so she says. Geralt likens her to the spirit of a child scouring the shore for seashells, with her keen eyes fixed on what herbs she can salvage from the woods around them and brew into elixirs; all to his benefit. 

The hunt for Ciri keeps on, with creatures of every foul sort stopping him along the Path with every pull of his attention.. 

And so, her call- infused with care in every word- pulled the horse and Witcher both down the rough, trodden path. And if the sky and sea be damned, Geralt knew very well what to call this;

...if he wasn't careful, he'd be falling in love with her by month's end.

#ASoL:Witcher #masterlist #geralt x oc #geralt x ofc #herbalist oc #my work #my oc #game Geralt is top tier #henry cavill #the witcher fanfiction

[imtherain]

Am I writing fanfiction like a woman possessed for the first time in like three years?

Yes.

Is it a fandom that I am currently active in?

No.

Is it at least a fic that I could post what I'm writing to?

Also no because I'm writing end stage stuff and the story is hardly started.

Am I writing it anyway?

Yes.

And there's smut. Smutty smut smut smut

And it's for Geralt, whom I haven't thirsted for since season one. Have I seen season two yet? Nope. Will I this weekend? Most likely.

And the question that no one is asking is "does that mean Rose of Otherworld will live again?!?"

And the answer is a giant maybe.

#imtherain #lackofpamcakes #smut #geralt fanfic #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #rose of otherworld

[pinkwatchblueshoes]

CROSSING PATHS

Geralt of Rivia x OC. Rated E. Chapters 1-3 Posted. Word Count: 9626

Summary:  Celia liked her life of solitude. She made do with healing and selling herbs in the village, until she does a favor for a friend and finds herself healing the mysterious Witcher. Geralt finds himself indebted to a rogue mage that he can’t seem to forget.

*Gif is not mine. All credit for the gif goes to the creator*

#witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #new story #smut

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Masterlist

Completed

Andromeda was only a young elf when she was taken in by Queen Calanthe. She was never introduced to the people of the Kingdom, so she didn't expect much of her place in the castle.

But when Geralt of Rivia helps to save her sister and her sister's lover, Queen Calanthe and Duny were in great debt to him, and he finds himself claiming a treasure he didn't realise would lead to her.

Andromeda and Geralt are bound by fate, but with Geralt despising the ploys of destiny, perhaps they were never meant to be. Or maybe Geralt just needed a small nudge in the right direction.

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

#geralt x oc #geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x yennefer #geralt x you #cirilla of cintra #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of river x reader

[manicdreams]

I finally posted a bit of my fanfiction I’ve been slowly working on. If you like The Witcher, this might be of interest. I’m only writing it solely for fun, and it’s a personal passion project. I wanted add my own extension of mythology that will be introduced in later chapters. My OC will finally be out in the world, hope you like her and the story! Feel free to leave a comment. I made guest access available to those who prefer reading and not interested in making an account x

#the witcher #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #writing #dark fantasy #fandoms #geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #fanfic #fanfiction writing #romantic #action and adventure

[cas-kingdom]

'Geralt was beginning to think he should never have introduced Akela to the other witchers'. xx

Geralt was beginning to think he should never have introduced Akela to the other witchers. Of course, he was three years, a lot of love, and a slight case of separation anxiety too late in remaking that decision, but the thought regularly crossed his mind when he returned to Kaer Morhen for the winter each year.

“What’s that bitter look on your face for?” Lambert asked. He sounded genuine, seemingly disregarding the fact he was holding a pocket knife in one hand and a fistful of blonde curls in the other as he stared at Geralt in utter confusion.

Geralt stared between his brother and the little girl sat on the floor, chewing on a medallion, surrounded by more hair than was left on her head, not that she looked to care at all.

“She had curls,” Geralt said slowly, eyes lingering a little reminiscently on the child before snapping back up to glower at Lambert.

Lambert frowned darkly. He wouldn’t let anyone criticise his work, and he proved so with the clicking of his jaw and the hand—scissor included—that came to sit against his hip. “Your point?”

“Now she doesn’t,” Geralt stated the obvious. He bit his tongue to refrain from provoking Lambert and took one large step forward until he could kneel beside Akela and sift his hand through her hair...or lack thereof. 

Lambert scoffed. “She has loads of hair. Don’t be fucking dramatic.”

"I thought we agreed to lower the profanities when the baby’s around,” Eskel said matter-of-factly once he’d entered the room. There was an irking grin on his face as Lambert stuck a middle finger in his direction.

“Fuck off. Geralt thinks I haven’t done a good job with her hair.”

Eskel stopped beside Lambert and looked at Akela, still munching on the medallion. True to Lambert’s words, Geralt did seem to be as distressed as his witcher-persona would let on, ruffling the child’s hair this way and that, brushing off cut pieces on her shoulders and shaking the stray strands that had escaped into her tunic.

Lambert had...done an interesting job. They’d all agreed that Akela had needed a haircut, her beautiful curls growing to such a vision-obscuring length that she’d toddled into a wall just yesterday, but Geralt had unwaveringly insisted that it be a trim. Nothing more, nothing less. Just enough to return her eyesight.

The witcher was far too attached to Akela’s mighty mane, having heard from someone once that most babies’ curls lost their bounce and strength as they grew older. Even with Lambert’s barber skills, Akela still had a good amount atop her head, but apparently that was not enough to tide Geralt over.

“It looks fine,” Eskel said with a small shrug, assuring both Lambert and Geralt.

Lambert grinned. “See! I’m wasted at Kaer Morhen. Should be going around charging people to cut their hair. Isn’t that right, brat, huh?” He dropped the scissors and bent down, swinging the giggling girl up into his arms and leaving Geralt stooped below. 

Once Lambert had left, proclaiming he was going to show the others his handiwork, Eskel put a hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades, the both of them silent for a mere second before—

“Would you like a moment to mourn, brother?”

Geralt scowled and batted Eskel’s hand away as he stood to his feet. He pressed his lips into a thin line at the sight of the hairy massacre below, breaking his gaze only when Eskel laughed and clapped him on the back, pulling him away in the direction Lambert had gone.

“It’s just hair, Geralt,” he said, “it’ll grow back.”

Geralt hummed. “Let’s hope Lambert has the same optimism when I cut his off while he sleeps tonight.”

Witcher Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

#the witcher #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel #geralt x eskel #eskel x lambert #geralt x lambert #lambert x geralt #eskel x geralt #lambert x eskel #oc!reader #reader #reader fic #daughter reader #daughter!reader #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x oc #lambert x oc #eskel x oc #mine #baby fic #drabble

[shad0w-ink]

OKAY SO, IMPORTANT THING, I recently got my hands on Clip Studio Paint and I am still getting the hand of things.

okay, now for the ideas for this-

Both Geralt and Jaskier's designs are a mix of Netflix's The Witcher and the games and some other versions I've seen, PLUS Geralt's pointy ears wich were a spontaneous decision on my part

this came from an idea where Jaskier and Geralt save a young sorcerer/warlock/mage person who gives them the "gift" of shifting into animals(the wolf for geralt and the bird that I made Jaskier into is a Blue-Gray gnatcatcher)

THERE IS A CATCH, everytime they turn into their animal self, although they retain their personality and their knowledge of people they've met, they go off of animal instincts most of the time, although they aren't complete animals since they are technecally still human

Geralt is a very affectionate wolf and Jaskier is DELIGHTED

Bird!Jask keeps bringing Geralt knicknacks like flowers and pebbles and other stuff (in the drawing he is holding a buttercup)

Jaskier's ensamble is blue with a bunch of Buttercups as decoration

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt #all the witchers #the witcher au #jaskier #JULIAN PANKRATZ #yes geralt is wearing leather pants #yes Jaskier bought them for him #as y'all know #y'all are free to use any of these ideas for fics or fanart #just like send them to me cuz I want to see them #SORRY IVE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG IVER BEEN WORKING ON OC'S AND ORIGINAL STORIES

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: A Witcher/House of the Dragon Crossover

The sister of the Bard Jaskier, and a talented bard in her own right, had came to Westeros initially to make a name for herself. In her ambition, she ended up catching the attention of a certain Rogue Prince whose ambitions may outweigh her own.

When the unexpected happens, she must return to the Continent to seek out the white haired witcher and hope their past history will garner reason to offer her protection.

But will the White Wolf's silver sword be enough to stave off the wrath and heat of the Dragon?

Self-reader insert style

House of the Dragon character belong to George R.R. Martin and Witcher characters belong to Andrzej Sapkowski

Content Warning: +18, minors do NOT interact

Incest, DUB-CON/NON-CON, Mature Themes

Violence, swearing, sexism, slut shaming (plus/minus whore shaming) and power dynamics that are par to the course for both shows

Any other triggers I feel need mentioning will be added to the start of whatever chapter I write.

Also if you repost, be sure to cite either this page or my Wattpad page

Bonus Chapters

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 and 11.5

Chapter 12 and 12.5

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 and 14.5

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17 and 17.5

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20 and 20.5

Chapter 21

Chapter 22 and 22.5

Chapter 23 and 23.5

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26 and 26.5

Chapter 27

Chapter 28 and 28.5

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32 and 32.5

Chapter 33

Chapter 34 and 34.5

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38 and 38.5

Chapter 39 and 39.5

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

#geralt of rivia #aemond #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #geralt x reader #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #aegon ii targaryen #ciri #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #the witcher #crossover #fanfic #aemond targaryen #avallac'h #eredin breacc glas #rhaena targaryen #baela targaryen #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aemond x oc #laena velaryon #laenor velaryon #corlys velaryon #rhaenys targaryen

[navya04]

at least jaskier is bi. its like i always say. at least jaskier is bi. at the end of the day. Jaskier is bi. dont cry ok? Jaskier is bi. at the end of the day. Jaskier is bi. when all else fails. Jaskier is bi. we'll always have. Jaskier is bi

#netflix #the witcher #jaskier #witcher oc #witcher season 3 #prince radovid #radovid #geralt of rivia #empress ciri #witcher yennefer #the bard #bisexual #pride #lgbtq #lgbtq community #lgbtqia+ #radskier #radovid x jaskier