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rosemary-morgan · 1 year

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Witcher Vesemir X F.Reader - Lust (+18)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself.)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

My dear @kasumidraws , you wished for a story with Vesemir. I hope you like it 🌷 It’s written with lot of love (❁´◡`❁)

Word count - 8932

Warning: Fluff and pure smut, 18+!

Lust (+18)

"You could have died..."

Y/N tried to sound stern to him, but you could clearly hear in her voice that she was more than concerned. She tossed the old, blood-soaked bandage into the bucket after tying a new one around him.

"I'm fine, my dear."

Vesemir had been careless for a brief moment; after which the beast had managed to wound him, leaving deep claw marks on his back that would leave scars. Y/N had cleaned and bandaged these. She could only hope that she would never have to see Vesemir again in such a condition as she had had to experience three days ago. Her heart had almost stopped when Eskiel had brought him back to the fortress. The fear for him had given her a terrible stomach ache but he had recovered thanks to his potions and Y/N´s care. Luckily, the monster's claws had not been tainted with poison, otherwise the whole story would have ended badly.

Versemir sought her gaze, but she avoided his eyes, concentrating on disposing of the material.

"Are you mad, Y/N?"

Wordlessly, she walked around the room, clearing away everything that was no longer needed, feeling the Witcher's gaze on her as she did so.

"You're mad."

Nothing escaped Vesemir's notice, and since the young woman didn't talk back, he knew he was right. He could see it in her face, for he knew Y/N all too well.

"Have some pity on an old man like me."

When Y/N smirked, the Witcher grinned.

"Come here, dear."

He reached out to her and Y/N walked up to him, smiling back at him. She wasn't basically mad, just unhappy about his current state. A Witcher was not immortal. Especially not when it came to deadly attacks of merciless monsters. Oh, Y/N was so glad that Vesemir was alive and recovering so quickly.

Vesemir grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him, asking her to sit on his knee.

Gently, he stroked through her hair, whereupon the young woman sighed softly, snuggling up to his hand.

"I'm not angry, Vesemir. But you lost so much blood when Eskiel brought you to me."

The young woman wrapped her arms around him and Vesemir felt her trembling in the next moment. He frowned in confusion, gently stroking her back as he asked what was wrong with her.

"I'm just so glad you're still with me", she whispered to the Witcher as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. As she leaned back a bit, Vesemir stroked through her soft hair again, brushing one of her strands behind her ear. Her slightly pointed ear that testified to the fact that she was not quite human; with Elvish blood flowing through her veins.

With a warm smile, the Witcher looked at the beautiful woman, admiring her eyes, her fine nose, her beautiful lips, her delicate skin.

“An old fool like me is indeed lucky to have such a wonderful woman like you.”

"Stop it, Vesemir. You're not an old fool!"

She smirked back at him.

"You know perfectly well that you can keep up in bed as well as a young stag."

Oh, Vesemir really did. That was thanks to the mutations that kept his body strong and vital.

"Is that so, Y/N?"

He teased, smiling mischievously at her.

"You know it very well, old man!"

Without warning, he pulled Y/N fully onto his lap, rose from his chair, then grabbed her bottom. Y/N instantly wrapped her legs around his hips, holding onto his broad neck.

"What are you up to, Vesemir?" she asked with a soft giggle, tossing her head a bit to the side, her shiny hair following.

"I want to feel you, my love. My hunger for you is unbearable!"

“Stop it, Vesemir! Your wounds have not yet healed completely!"

Actually, the Witcher should be resting, but the young woman also had to admit that she would like nothing better right now than to have fun with him in the sheets.

"Don't worry about that, dear."

Vesemir gently laid Y/N down in the soft sheets, and she was already looking up at him quite longingly.

He knelt down, grabbing her ankle. His lips barely touched her skin, so delicately did his mouth travel up her leg. His tongue caressed the sensitive spot at the back of her knee before he slid further up, pushing her skirt further up until he had her beautiful thighs before his eyes. Oh, Vesemir especially loved her legs. They were so tight, wonderfully shaped! The Witcher inhaled deeply and excitedly as he pushed her knees apart. Y/N allowed this instantly, biting her lip in anticipation.

"Aren't you going to undress me, Vesemir?”

“Nothing would please me more."

The young woman lifted her pelvis so that Vesemir could remove her skirt, along with her panties. She was now wearing only her white silk blouse. Her breasts strained provocatively against the fabric, her nipples already hard and stiff with arousal...

♦♦♦♦

Her hands played with his hair, she pressed her body tightly against his and his erection nestled perfectly against her soft abdomen. He pulled her closer to him and she tenderly and gently pressed her body against his. A sigh escaped his lips, arousing him deep inside. Her taste was incomparable, and there was nothing in this world that could equal Y/N's aroma. She was innocence, passion and grace all at once. He buried his face into her neck and felt her soft curls tickle his face. Her hands had not left his hair and were combing through it. Vesemir's breath brushed hotly over her neck. His fingers undid the buttons of her blouse and he freed her plump, beautiful breasts. He had large hands, but they were quite cautious as they grabbed her breasts. As his eyelids lowered in pleasure to look at his lover's beautiful body, his fingers played with her nipples, tugging at them, and Y/N couldn't help but moan in pleasure. He slowly made his way down, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking on it.

Y/N grabbed onto Vesemir's shoulders as his mouth moved from one nipple to the other and the sensation became almost unbearable.

"Vesemir, I can't..."

"This is just the beginning", the Witcher promised with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Vesemir kept going down, searching for the sweet nectar he was crazy about. And before Y/N could think about what Vesemir might do next, his mouth was already closing over her most intimate spot and his tongue was invading her body. Her abdomen jerked upward, but that only pushed his tongue in deeper. She felt his hands on her buttocks, where he held her. Y/N gasped. She thought she was going to lose her mind! His tongue was glorious. He licked, tasted, stroked until Y/N began to moan loudly. She desperately grabbed his hair, her cheeks turned all red, her body began to tremble. Her pelvis pressed against him as he licked her.

"Oh, gods!"

Her pulse pounded. Her breathing was heavy. Everything inside her contracted. Vesemir growled and Y/N experienced an orgasm so intense it catapulted her straight to heaven.

Her body felt so weightless, her mind freed from everyday life and she was so happy. When she slowly opened her eyes, Vesemir was already hovering over her and her body nestled longingly against his. Her pussy was pulsating with excitement, she wanted to feel him deep inside her.

"Oh, Vesemir..."

She pulled him down to her by his medallion, kissing him hungrily, and that's when she felt his hard cock press against her soft, warm womanhood. With one slow, delicious thrust, he entered her deeply. Y/N moaned into his mouth with pleasure, then threw her head back as she closed her eyes. Her fingers clawed into his firm skin and she moaned with each thrust. He moved back and forth until she gasped his name, until she wrapped her legs around him. He pulled back, slid back in, slick and hot from her heat surrounding him. He held her head between his hands, kissing her. He wanted to go on like this forever.

“Y/N…”

Y/N moaned and raised her hips to meet his thrusts. Vesemir buried his face in the crook of her neck, happy with the knowledge that she was his queen…

#vesemir #witcher vesemir #the witcher #the witcher universe #the witcher fandom #romance #fluff #vesemir x reader #vesemir x f.reader #y/n reader #vesemir x you #love #female reader #fanfictions #the witcher fanfictions

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thesleepy1 · 9 months

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Bun(s) In The Oven

A/N: What am I doing instead of sleeping? A) Working, B) Writing. or C) Waking Lord Cthulhu from his slumber so that he may reclaim the throne. If you guessed B, then you’d be correct! Hahaha, I really do need sleep. And they call me the Sleepy One! Anon Requested. (Also, I haven’t had the time to sit down and watch season three yet, so please no spoilers.)

Pairings: Eskel x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to have nine months to prepare. You were counting on those nine months. You were not a procrastinator by any means, but with something as important as having a baby you were going to make good use of all the available time to prepare for the arrival of your new baby. Nine months. Not six.

Or, “Could you write something for eskel when his significant other is in labour. I don’t know if he’d be chill and prepared or in total panic mode. Either wait I’d like to read it 😂

Word count: 930

Warnings: birth?

At six months pregnant you were past the point of still coming up with names for your little one and were well into the process of setting up the nursery. In the beginning, there was fear that the baby would not survive. Miscarriages were common in the village you grew up in and a human pregnant with a witcher baby was unprecedented. Anyone pregnant with a witcher baby was unheard of. There was no way of knowing what to expect.

When you and Eskel had first learned of the little seed that was sprouting in you, you both laughed it off as some practical joke. It wasn’t until months later that you realized there was something going on. The bump proved that there wasn’t some prank being played on you. You were well and truly pregnant.

First there was denial. That was to be expected.

Then came the acceptance.

After that it was just full blown panic.

You were a bard for heaven’s sake. A baby was not on your bucket list. When you had first met Eskel and decided to tag along on his adventures, you did not realize that having a baby along the way was a part of it.

But after that…?

It was quite nice.

Sure it was unexpected and neither you nor Eskel had planned for it, but it really wasn’t a bad thing. The pregnancy didn’t stop you from doing what you loved. You still performed and sang to your heart's content. In some taverns you even made more coin. Some were from concerned onlookers and some were from others who got off at the sight of you. Either way, money was money.

And Eskel. Dear sweet Eskel. He grew to love you even more than before if that was possible. It was no worry of yours that Eskel didn’t truly love you. He showed it to you each and every day. But after the two of you had gotten over your panic, he became the most doting and kind and loving witcher possible. It could have been sickening if you didn’t enjoy every last moment of it.

So yes. You were past the point of panic and name searching. With something around thirteen more weeks to go, you were still working on adding things to the nursery. Most of the essentials were there already. Now was just time to decorate and fill the room with as many toys as you possibly can. No one was going to stop you, least of all Eskel.

If anyone were looking for the two of you, then they could find you in the nursery happily sewing up another stuffed animal or embroidering yet another piece of clothing. Eskel could be found doing the same. Despite his large frame, he had such a talent for needle work.

You were working on turning shorn wool into wool when you suddenly felt a wetness burst from you followed by intense pain. Before you realized what was going on with your body Eskel leapt up from his seat.

“I need to get a healer,” Eskel announced, his breaths coming in unevenly. “I can’t leave you here alone—someone needs to get the healer. Lambert! Geralt!”

That was another thing. Eskel’s brothers were there every step of the way. And they were going to be there for this step too, despite its premature timing.

“Are you sure? I—we still have weeks, don’t we?” you asked him, face grimacing in pain despite your disbelief. “We-we haven’t finished processing the food for stores or-or finished all the clothes—” You were cut off by an unbearable pain flaring from within. “Dear gods, heavens above. The little one is coming. The little one is coming!”

“Geralt! Lambert! Vesemir!” Eskel called out to his brothers. His voice boomed in the hallways, sounds bouncing off the stone hallways and carrying towards the other witchers in the keep. Before long, they came running to your aide.

“Healers. We need to go find a healer.” Eskel was firm. He left no room for argument. Lambert rushed out back the way he came. He was the smallest and fastest of the witchers. He would reach the town at the bottom of the mountain first and hurry back with a healer or two. Eskel had to believe that his brother would.

“Geralt,” Eskel began.

“Anything you need,” Geralt replied.

What happened next was beyond you. The pain was indescribable. You knew that you would not remember much of the process. At least, that was what the other mothers had told you. They said that the mind would forget so the body continued.

However, right there and then you were unbearably hurt. And you were vocal about it.

“Great saints above! Get—” you were screaming. It stung the witcher’s ears but you didn’t have a spare thought to care. “Get them out of me!”

“T-them?”

It was Geralt who faltered at that.

Years later you would all sit around a table topped with a hearty meal. Roasted elk, mashed sweet potatoes, and mead would be overflowing. Altina and Anna would be given cider that had not ripen into the sort that would make them dizzy and drunk. Everyone would laugh at the way that Geralt had stuttered at the prospect of two.

Eskel would laugh the loudest. For he was the proudest of the fact. He was a father of two beautiful, healthy girls and he couldn’t be happier.

No one will bring up the fact that Eskel had almost fainted when Anna's head was crowning and the healer was still twenty minutes away.

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the-doctor-3000 · 8 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 {The Witcher x F!Reader}

1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (pt. 1)

The chirping of birds woke the nineteen-year-old y/n up. She cracked her eyes open, having a difficulty to do so due to the light of the sun, and found herself laying in a forest. She sat up slowly, clenching the pendant that was hanging around her neck tightly and looked around in sheer confusion.

How did she even end up here? She was on a mission with her siblings. Knowing that it didn't include the woods. She quickly searched around for her stuff. She had her seraph blade, her stele was on her jacket's pocket along with a sensor and her witchlight stone. She stood up on her feet with a small stumble and continued to look at her surroundings confused.

The air was clearer, deprived of pollution. It was nice but scary too.

Where was she? Had she been teleported there and how?

Not expecting to get any answers from just standing there and staring, she walked her way out of the forest. Or at least tried to. No sign of a city but a small village. Too medieval-like for her own liking.

Hopefully the mundanes were just filming a movie with that theme. As she approached, her nostrils picked up some unpleasant smells which caused her to gag in disgust.

It smelled worse than a farm or litter boxes. She had been to villages before but none of them smelled like that.

She went pass a few locals, all of them dressed in medieval styled peasant clothing, and some gave her some odd looks while others minded their own business. Y/n's brows furrowed. She looked around, expecting to see some cameramen filming the entire thing or the staff.

She saw none.

What she did see was a cart, drawn by two piebald mares. She tilted her head to the side as she cautiously followed and examined the people on it.

Three. The driver. Nothing too unusual for the theme of the movie - if it was a movie; he was wearing sheepskin over his bare skin and his hair reached his brows. Next to him sat another man; that one was slim, he was wearing a fancy bonnet with a heron's feather decorating it. She noticed that he was holding a lute. A troubadour, she mentally noted.

Her eyes trailed to the man next to him. He was skinny, unhealthy pale and had milky loose hair. What she could make of his appearance from the far back was that he was a warrior of sorts.

She didn't know what but there was something about that man that piqued her interest. If her brothers were there they would be able to restrain her from going off to satisfy her curiosity. Her sister, though, would go along with her.

The white haired male spoke to the driver and he brought the horses to a halt. Y/n didn't know why but she felt like the white haired man could tell that she was following them.

Her suspicion was confirmed as he jumped out of the cart, daggers on each side and a steel sword on the back, and approached her.

She came to a halt as she gasped instinctively. His face. She had seen worse but there was something unsettling about him. His eyes were frightening and cat-like and there was something about him. . . Cold and threatening.

Her fingers tried to reach for her blades but he spoke. "Why are you following us?"

His voice was just as unsettling as the rest of his appearance. It was very unpleasant and hoarse. Y/n never had encountered anyone like him. She had seen things and yet this man made her feel afraid.

Why? She had killed demons, a man with a disturbing appearance should be nothing compared to her previous encounters.

He asked her again. More demanding but still calm. "Well?"

She flinched but finally found her voice. "I am sorry." She apologised and thought that the truth would be the best answer. "I am new around. . . . here and you three looked like an interesting bunch. Would it, ah, be alright to tag along until I find a way back?"

He seemed to think about it. His inhuman eyes stared into hers as if he were examining her. "Where are you from?"

"Manhattan, New York."

He arched a white brow. "Come again? Is this a new kind of joke?"

"Why would---? Listen, if you don't know where it is then just say so." She said, irritation building its way to her chest. "Don't have to act as if it doesn't exist."

"That's because it doesn't. Never heard of such place."

The seriousness in his tone made it difficult for y/n to tell whether he was messing with her or not. She crossed her arms over her torso, trying to keep a straight face and mask her worry. "Then where exactly am I?"

"Near Lower Posada, Dol Blathanna."

She barked a laugh. "Okay okay! That's creative but, for real, where am I?"

"Do I look like someone who is joking?"

Her hair went up like wires and a chill went down her spine. She croaked nervously, "Probably not."

There was a long silence between. The man's travelling companions were observing this interraction from afar, seeming quite interested to see how this would evolve. The bard was the most intrigued by it out of the two. Y/n avoided making eye contact with the man standing in front of her, her gaze was fixated on the medallion around his neck. It was made out of silver and had the shape of a wolf's head.

The longer she thought about it the more scared she became that maybe she was indeed in another universe and/or time period. Everything looked far too real, they smelled like it too, to be just a film production and the actors decided to mess with her.

Then it hit her. How could he, a mundane, see her? The glamour should have made it impossible unless, of course, he wasn't human himself but he didn't look like any of the Downworlders she had known of. The only distinct feature about him which only fit the warlocks' was his eyes, which were cat-like, but she could tell that he wasn't one. Mostly due to the fact that he was carrying weapons and, as far as she knew, warlocks needn't any of those. Not when they had their magic.

She gathered up some courage and spoke, "Do you---" She cut herself, thinking carefully of her next words and tried to make eye contact without flinching. Her mother and father always told her to stare someone in the eyes when speaking or else it would make her seem like a fool. "Is it alright to stay with you until I figure a way to return to my home? I promise that I won't get in the way of whatever it is that you are doing."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And what is that you think I'm doing?"

Y/n shrugged. "Don't know and don't care. It's not my business either way as long as you don't cause any trouble that is."

"Hm."

He just hummed. No comment or any reply, just a hum. Y/n didn't know what to make of that guy but she followed him when he nodded for her to do so. They went to the cart and there was yet again an uneasy silence.

"I'm y/n Lightwood, by the way." She introduced herself to him, with a smile, hoping to at least learn his name. When he didn't respond, she quickly added. "Sorry if I crossed over any boundaries. It's just that people usually tell their names when they make an acquaintance." No response still. "So, ah, what's your name?"

"Geralt of Rivia."

"Geralt of Rivia." She tested his name, mispronouncing it completely, sounding like 'Jerald'. She noticed from the corner of her eye, his scarred eye twitching a little.

At least she got a reaction.

Not wanting to make things worse, she decided not to speak any further. When they reached the cart, the troubadour was the first one to acknowledge her.

"Ah! And who is your feminine friend, Geralt?" The bard asked, his cornflower blue eyes though were fixated on her.

He seemed pleasant, he looked like it too. His attitude so far was also friendly. She gave him a small smile, "I'm y/n. Y/n Lightwood."

As Geralt climbed on the cart, the bard hopped out. He took her hand and gingerly planted a kiss on the back of. "Charmed. I am Master Dandilion! A poet, a minstrel and a bard."

She chuckled, her cheeks flushing red a little. "Yeah, I got that. The lute gave it away."

"Would you be interested in hearing one of my ballads, my fair lady?"

An exasperated groan came from Geralt. Y/n was yet again curious but also bored.

"Music is the perfect way to pass the time while driving, so yeah!" She said with a warm smile gracing her features.

Dandilion beamed with joy.

She climbed the cart, Dandilion followed, and she was inbetween him and Geralt. The driver did not question her and continued. Y/n continued paying attention to Dandilion, too scared or uncomfortable to look at Geralt.

Disclaimer: I don't own the The Witcher nor the pictures/gifs, all credit goes to the original creators. This is a crossover between the Witcher and the Shadowhunter Chronicles. This will be based on the books and *not* the Netflix series and the story will be according to the books (though I'll add some scenes of my own and/or change some things in order for the mc to fit in the story).

This fanfiction will be also published on quotev.

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 4 months

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 11

Chapter 10

"COME OUT AND FACE ME, WITCHER!" Daemon shouts from outside the castle, "Or are you too much of a coward to face the dragon?!"

"I'm just going to go out on a limb here," Jaskier speaks up, "but I think he's talking about you, Geralt."

"What the fuck does he want Geralt for?" Lambert asks.

"I, uh, may have mentioned my past lover's relationship with Geralt when I was with Daemon," you point out, nervous smile on your face.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Lambert frowns.

"Yeah, (y/n), why?" Jaskier agrees.

"I thought if Daemon knew I wasn't a virgin, he'd leave me alone!" you exasperate, "at least I thought that was why he was trying to seduce me in the first place, he does have a reputation for deflowering maidens. I was wrong."

"Anyway," you continue, "it's not really Geralt he wants. It's me. He's come to take me and Aemma away."

"...I won't let him," Geralt says, placing a hand on your shoulder, "you made me make a promise. And I intend to keep it."

"Come out and face me, Witcher!" Daemon calls out once more.

"I'll handle this," Geralt tells the others.

"But...what if that dragon appears?" Coen asks. "If we have to, we'll all take the beast head on," Vesemir answers, placing a hand on Geralt's shoulder, "we'll be waiting."

Geralt nods and open the doors to the keep slightly.

He slowly walks out, approaching the prince.

Once face-to-face, Daemon and Geralt stare at each other, almost as if sizing one another up.

Geralt was the first to speak, "You wanted to see me?"

"So, you're the witcher," Daemon says, head tilted lightly like he was curious, "the famous White Wolf from the Continental minstrels' ballads. I must admit, you're not at all what I expected. I'd thought you'd have fangs or horns or something like that."

"I've heard that joke before," Geralt says with a faux smile, "I had them filed down. What do you want? I know you didn't come all this way just to admire me, Daemon Targaryen."

"You know who I am?" Daemon asks. "I know enough," Geralt deadpans, "now answer my question."

"You have something that belongs to me," Daemon states in a threatening way, drawing his Dark Sister from its sheath and pointing it at Geralt, "I've come to take it back."

Geralt stares at the sword, fascinated by the metal that was used to create it. He turned his gaze towards the prince again, "there is nothing here that belongs to you," the witcher states with confidence, "I suggest you leave. Go back to your homeland."

"I'm not leaving," Daemon stubbornly sneers, "not until I have what I have come for. I don't care what special powers you possess from that mutant body of yours, I will cut you down if you don't stand out of my way."

"Leave. Now," Geralt warns, drawing his silver sword, taking a fighting stance, "I won't ask again. Prince or not, this is my home, and you are trespassing."

The standoff continued for a few more moments.

The the impulsive Daemon charged at Geralt and the two soon clashed swords. Daemon may be faster, but Geralt was the older and more experienced out of the two. He parried each blow from the prince's swords, getting the upper hand with each pirouette and lunge.

At one point, Daemon managed to get the upper hand and push Geralt to the ground.

The prince was about to stab Geralt through the head, but the witcher dodged and got back on his feet.

The two clashed swords in a stalemate.

"Tell me, witcher, how does it feel?" Daemon taunts, "to have (y/n) in your arms every night, knowing you could never give her what I could?"

Geralt only grunted in response.

"Maybe that's why you took her away from me, is that it? Are you planning to turn my child into a mutant freak, like yourself?"

Geralt jumped back and kicked Daemon in the chest, pushing him back slightly, "did it ever occur to you that (y/n) left of her own volition?" the witcher sneers, "that she was trying to get away from you? That she didn't want you to find out?"

"She wouldn't do that," Daemon insists, wiping the blood from his mouth, "not after everything I ever provided for her, both in and out of the bed. After I kill you, witcher, I'll take that trinket of yours as my trophy," he points his sword to Geralt's medallion, "I'll have her wear it every night while I fuck her until my seed grows inside her womb once more. A further testament that the blood of the dragon cannot be matched by that of the impotent white wolf."

Geralt only chuckled at that statement, knowing full well Daemon was only trying to provoke the witcher by insulting his manhood in an immature fashion. "You find this amusing?"

"Not at all," Geralt answers, though in a tone that suggests that he did, "the way you carry on in this manner, prince, I'd say you're the one who is overcompensating."

As expected, this angered the prince, and he charged at Geralt once again.

Geralt then cast the Aard sign, forcing Daemon onto his back.

"Do you think we should go in there and help him?" Ciri asks as you, her, and Jaskier watch the fight from inside the keep.

"Does Geralt really look like he needs help?" Jaskier points out, "he just knocked the man to his feet. He's got this."

The silver medallions from the witcher memorial started to hum along with the ones around the witches' necks.

"Maybe don't speak too soon, brother," you say, nervousness creeping up from knowing what was about to happen.

Daemon groaned, disoriented from the impact. He was about to reach for his sword, but Geralt step on his arm to stop him.

The witcher pointed his sword at Daemon's neck.

"You've overstayed your welcome, prince," Geralt speaks, "yield now. Leave and return to where you came from."

Daemon only chuckles in amusement as a response.

Geralt was confused by the prince's reaction, but the moment his medallion started humming, the moment he heard the high pitched shriek, he looked up and knew what was coming.

"Shit!" Geralt backs away.

Right on cue, Caraxes climbed up the mountain, his long slender neck reaching out till his head was right under Daemon, who was smiling from in victory from the tables being turned.

The red dragon faced Geralt and roared in anger.

In this moment, the witcher only had one word to say...

"Fuck."

Chapter 11.5

Masterlist

#geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #ciri #daemon #daemon targaryen #geralt x reader #hotd #the witcher #vesemir #eskel #lambert #coen

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hidden-misthios · 1 year

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Something in the Orange (part 2)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 601

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for a long wait!

Part 1 is here.

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.”

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

“You are going to take us halfway. To Hengfors.”

#something in the orange #the witcher #the witcher fic #lambert the witcher #lambert #lambert fic #lambert fanfiction #lambert x reader #lambert x y/n #witcher x y/n #reader fanfic #jaskier #coen #vesemir #ciri #geralt #geralt of rivia

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years

Text

Haunt Of The Hunt / Eskel Imagine

Request: Can I have Eskel comforting you after getting hurt? I live for him just being ✨soft✨

Me too, anon. Me too. Also, I’m sorry I read this as you getting hurt so apologies if I’ve got that the wrong way round! <3

Warning: mentions of injury/ blood/ descriptions of wounds and needles!

(I do not own the Witcher or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @spicyinsanity.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The forest seemed to crackle around him, but even it couldn’t hold a flame to Eskel’s charred nerves. Despite his experience, his fingers shook against your arm with every further inch he thread the needle through your patchwork skin. He was too busy worrying about the mossy log you were perched on, a makeshift chair muddled out of this messy campsite the two of you had sprung up a few days prior, and the way your legs were beginning to shiver with the cold of autumn’s bite. His only solace was the waning fire on the edge of the clearing, yet even its flames seemed to crackle and die out against the wind’s power. He sighed, apologising taciturnly, sorrowfully in response to the grunt of pain that slips out as he finishes sewing up the deep gash.

You were too busy trying to take your mind off the agonising pain that seemed to course torrents through your body by gazing over the stretching fields of flowers around your perimeter to ease his own suffering. If only Dandelion were here. He would be able to wax poetic, tune lost to the blooms even despite the circumstances. Even he would be able to find beauty in the waxy wyvern feathers that lay blanketed on the riot of snapping red, burning sugar gold and cloudy cream wildflowers. Within the stars spilled across the sky like thrown pebbles from the shore, the hazy darkness permeated by the still remnant sound of townsfolk yowling back to their homes. Yes, the flowers here truly were beautiful, even if splattered with crimson blood and the scent of death.

It had felt like eons since Eskel had spoken, and the bitter silence was nearly driving you out of your mind with madness. Every so often he would grunt hoarsely, reaching down to focus instead on tying yet another loop of bandage around your abdomen. The scowl on his face told you he was upset - but you knew it wasn’t with you. No, you knew your Witcher too well to miss the sorrow that dipped the corners of his eyes as he wiped the last splashes of Wyvern blood away from your throat. How gentle his strokes were despite the action, how tender his fingers were against your pulse as he tipped you back to look at him.

‘Eskel-’

‘I’m not angry.’ He frowned, quickly and unsightly, but not with malice. More to let you know that he was ashamed of himself for giving away his feelings so easily. For making certain now, that you would worry over him when it was you all the realm’s focus should be on.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to raise a grin through the pain. Once he finishes wiping away the last drops and drops the rag back down onto his satchel, you sigh in relief at the feeling of Eskel’s warm, broad palm just holding your chin within their safe grasp. Despite the strength of his fingers splayed against the bottom of your jaw, he knows that you’ve noticed how much they’re shaking.

‘I know you too well to know that you’re angry’, you begin to drawl, reaching out with your unbruised hand to brush the back of your fingers against the twisted knot lying on his lip. ‘I also know, that you’re blaming yourself for this. Which is complete poppycock, Eskel.’ He flinches at your touch, still so vulnerable. His golden eyes gaze steadily into your own, though, even through the tears that begin to muddy their sombrely scrunched depths. ‘And I won’t stand for it.’

‘But it was my fault. Y/n.’ He grabs your hand, drawing it away from where it was tenderly and familiarly beginning to trace down the outline of his scar. He instead raises it to his lips, kissing the back and curling it within his own. He rests it against his cheek as he opens up his other arm, offering himself up to you.

You gladly accept, scooting down from your perch and instead resting clumsily on his lap, settling against his racing heartbeat. His hands tighten around your waist, dropping your still intertwined hand onto your thigh. He’s so gentle, so careful not to move you to much as he positions himself back against the tree trunk so you’re resting properly upright. So delicate, as he shifts you against his leather trousers, that it nearly breaks your heart. ‘It was my fault that you were here. I knew I should have left you safe within the inn, instead of allowing you to follow me into the wilds. I was - I was careless.’

You can feel his chin shake against the top of your head as he continues. ‘I....’ he swallows thickly, before taking in a drawn out breath. ‘I could have lost you. And then I would have lost all the best parts of myself. Not even a Witcher can survive when they’re left with just a husk, Y/n. And I was stupid enough to think I was smart enough - I was skilled enough to never let it happen. How foolish I am, and I... I’m so sorry.’

‘Eskel, if I hear you apologise one more time I swear I’m going to Lil’ Bleater loose on you once we get back to Kaer Morhen.’ He laughed at that, hands wringing tighter around your midriff. But he still laughed, and the sound was the most divine noise the path could have ever brought you.

‘You know, I’m more afraid of Lambert’s reaction if he finds that little devil loose in his room again than I am of the two of you put together.’

‘I don’t doubt it. His swearing rant was enough even to make Vesemir run out of the keep’, you giggle, simultaneously lighting your heart in relief at the soothing tone the grumble of his voice has taken once again. For a moment he’s silent, until you realise the pressure you feel against your back is no longer solely the feel of his armour’s spikes, but the press of his large ear against the dip of your spine.

He’s listening to your heartbeat, breath evening out in time in a way that makes you believe he’s trying to match his own to yours. He does this often, although he’s too embarrassed to admit it. He likes to slow his rate, mixing the sound with your own until it feels as though one march. One joined parade of lovers, one sole beat, one indication that he could ever live the life of a normal man. Eventually, he will straighten himself back up. He’ll press a kiss against the back of your neck, a lingering one full of compassion and hope and diligence, before resting his forehead back against your hair.

He’ll say his usual musings when he becomes lost. ‘Perhaps’, he’ll whisper into the swift jasmine mist of the night, ‘I will keep you here forever. We can live among the sunflower stalks, and make pomegranate wine and look up at the stars.’

‘And be happy forever?’, you’ll finish, biting your bottom lip.

‘Hmm’, he’ll reply, sounding far too much like Geralt to make you believe this dream could ever come true. That he could ever escape his fate, and that you wouldn’t become entangled within its clutches. ‘Yes, happy and in love forever, my sweet dove.’

His nose will brush against your pulse point as you lean back to kiss him. ‘Sounds like a fortunate life to me, my dear Witcher.’ There will be no more tears today - no heartache, no loss, no foraging for coin and shelter and kindness, no hiding. Just pure adoration, rolling out like basking sunlight from the radiant Witcher wrapped around your back, grasping onto you as if terrified that life will suddenly tear you away.

‘Then I give the rest of my life to you, my love.’

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #eskel #eskel imagine #eskel x reader #witcher eskel #witcher 3 #game!eskel #witcher!eskel #game!eskel imagine #netflix!eskel imagine #eskel fluff #eskel angst #geralt of rivia #dandelion #lambert #vesemir

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

Text

Prey of the Hunt- Chapter 10 (Final)

A/N: Happy final chapter!! Wasn’t sure I was gonna finish this for a hot minute since it’s been going on so long, but I thank you for taking this journey with me!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: ~1.8k

Warnings: Injuries, Unedited, Just fluff!

Summary: Spring has finally come and with it much softness and light.

______________________

“Ow, Ow, Ow…” you winced, grabbing Triss’s wrist as she reset your broken clavicle, a strained sigh leaving your lips as your arm finally rested somewhat normally again.

“I know. Now hold still while I heal it up just enough to stay in place… then Ciri can wrap you up properly, okay?” Her hand gently pressed against your pained shoulder, radiating a soft orange light as healing magic seeped into your broken bones. She looked tired and you couldn’t blame her- everyone needed some form of healing and magic ended up having to be rationed out with the way it was beginning to take a toll.

The great hall had been completely transformed into a make-shit infirmary, with everyone either giving or receiving medical attention while a few others roamed around to check-in. Yennefer was laid up in bed, still recovering from the amount of energy the magical barrier used. Geralt and Lambert and Letho- despite the various cuts and bruises- were otherwise unharmed. The rest of the Lodge, though exhausted and worn remained physically unharmed. The rest of you sustained various broken bones, lacerations, and bruises but you knew you’d heal in time.

“How are you two holding up?” Vesemir asked, already up and waking around on his shattered knee as he held his hand against the open wound on his arm.

“Vesemir, sit the hell down. You’re injured!” Geralt shouted at him before you could respond, catching a vulgar gesture in turn. All of this let out a light laughter through the great hall, and you nodded to the older man.

“We’re okay, Ves. But you might need to force Triss to take a breather.” You said, breathing a little easier once Triss’s hands pulled away. “Thank you….” You added, squeezing her hand in thanks, “Go get some food, and sit down. No one is life or death anymore.” you assured.

The fiery redhead only smiled tiredly and nodded, “Maybe you’re right… Gods, you sound just like Geralt.” she shook her head as she left, but you could see her still smiling.

Ciri wrapped up your shoulder to support your healing collarbone and gave you a weak smile. Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion- like a majority of the group- but guilt and blame rattled her heart and forced her to stay up helping the people that fought for her. You knew you couldn’t talk her into slowing down any, only Vesemir and Geralt could do that, and even they saw the desperate need within her to do this.

“Thank you” you quietly said and immediately padded your way through your newfound friends to Eskel. “My beloved witcher…” you said with a small smile as you approached, “can I join you…?”

Ease spread through his body as he finally saw you all taken care of, and with a warm smile and a wave he patted the spot next to him. It took a few minutes to figure out how to lay together without hurting each other, but quickly you were able to settle in comfortably, a protective arm resting over your good shoulder. “I’m so glad you came back to me…” you whispered, just for him as you pressed soft kisses into his roughened knuckles. “I… well, I was worried I was going to lose you…”

“So you ran shoulder first into a suit of metal armor?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Esk.”

A light chuckle emanated from his notched lips before he groaned, holding his strained ribs, “Sorry… sorry, my bad.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, “You’re safe now and no one got too hurt, that’s what matters,” with great care you shifted about so you could look up at him, face lying just inches from bit own. “I love you so much, Eskel.”

His warm breath fanned out over your face as another soft laugh came from him, quickly followed by the sensation of his lips pressing tenderly against yours. The last of the residual tension ebbed away from your body as your lips joined, easily filling you with warmth and want instead. “I love you too, my dear… More than you know.”

-------

The birds sang the joyous song of spring as the months passed and the seasons changed. The keep had been pleasantly quiet after the battle, people leaving as soon as they got well enough. The sun had even started to shine brighter, turning the new grass plush and green beneath your feet.

“Baaaa!” Lil Bleater yelled as she followed hot on your heels, hooves kicking wildly in the air as she went. Your laughter bubbled and leaped around the courtyard with you and easily filled the entire grounds.

“I already gave you a treat! No more, Bleater!” You called back to her, hugging the basket of carrots close to your chest. “This is for Vesemir, not little hooved beasts!”

She yelled in protest as she followed your twists and turns over the cobblestones, determined to win her delicious prize.

“Dear? Are you ready to go?” You heard Eskel call from the room's small window. You paused to grin up at him, a bright and lovely grin that betrayed nothing of the horrors you two had experienced just months before.

“Not yet, I’ll- OH!” You yelped as Lil Bleater stood on her back legs, leaning on you to get closer to your basket of treasure. Shaking your head you gave her one last carrot to appease her insatiable appetite. “I’ll be up there in a minute, Esk!”

A low rumble of laughter lingered across the yard as he disappeared back inside the room.

Once you were finally able to lose your trailing and finish your errand, you made your way up to your little shared room. Minimal bags were piled on the beds, ready to make their way on the path alongside you. Your helmet shimmered in the morning light in its place atop the fireplace, its scars pooling light.

“Hey, I just have a few things I wanted to make sure I had. Then we can get going…” you smiled, rifling through your pack to take a quick inventory. Your already wide smile grew as you felt Eskel’s large hands wrap around you, followed by peppered kisses across your shoulders. “Yes, My beloved Witcher?” You laughed out softly, swaying back and forth playfully with him.

You could feel his smile against your shoulder as you swayed, hiding his emotion away from the rest of the world. “I have something for you before we leave…” He mumbled into you before stepping back.

You held your hands out as he dug around his pocket, closing your eyes so it can be a surprise. “You don’t have to close your eyes, Dear…” He said, shaking his head at your lovable antics.

“I know but it makes the surprise better..” you commented as you felt a dense weight settle in your hands, small, but not compact. As you opened your eyes a small metal viper head stared back at you, fangs bared and tongue out in a show of daring strength. It was held on a sturdy but ornate chain that you figure had to have been changed out by your witcher.

“Is this… a Viper Medallion..?” You asked as you looked up at him, closing your hand around it in adoration.

He only nodded. “I found it a few years ago on one of my contracts, the witcher before me didn’t get the chance to finish it and I figured his medallion should return to at least one of the schools…” He paused, smiling a bit. “I figured since you’ll be with me on the path you should have a medallion to keep you safe. You know how it works so I won’t over-explain it, but…”

“But….?” you smiled up at him, knowing there was more to the present than he was trying to let on. Eskel always gave deep thought to his gifts, sometimes it was too deep for you to understand right away, but you always enjoy the sentiment.

He fought the grin that pulled at his lips once more and continued, “ well… I thought the Viper school would be perfect for you. Their entire school is dedicated to destroying the wild hunt, they know everything they can about them. You fought so well that day, Y/n.. you deserved a token of your changed past.”

Heartfelt tears threatened to rise, but you quickly blinked the sensation away as you looked back down at the heavy medallion in your hands. “Thank you so much, Eskel…. I don’t know if I could have gotten through this the same way without you.” you smiled as you slipped the necklace over your head, letting it rest comfortably on your chest.

“I love you too, Dear,” he said, watching the viper rise and fall with your breaths and jostle gently as you let out a small chuckle.

“I’m glad you know,” you said, taking his hands into yours and giving them a solid squeeze. “Let’s get ready to go, yeah? We wanted to make it through most of the Blue Mountains today.” You said with nervousness hidden in the nooks and crannies of your voice.

Your horses stood by the main gate, saddle bags packed and ready for the long journey ahead. Lil Bleater also stood there at the ready, not about to let her witcher leave without a genuine goodbye.

“You guys have everything? Your bedrolls, potions, food?” Vesemir questioned, looking over your Horses.

“And my swords, bombs, and medallion…” Eskel responded, scooping up Lil Bleater. “I already double-checked.” He gave Lil Bleater a gentle squeeze, smiling a bit at the way she happily nibbled on his hair.

“We’ll be okay, Vesemir. We’ll be back sooner than you know,” you assured.

“Yeah, well… Just be safe out there. Don’t leave me with just Lambert and Geralt.” He grumbled, but you knew it was just him showing you that he cared. You gave him a quick hug before climbing up onto your horse.

“We’d never be so cruel,” you said with a smile.

He nodded, a tiny smile creeping into his expression as Eskel hopped up on Scorpion.

“Are you ready, Dear?”

Nervousness gripped your stomach again as you realized this was it- it was time to leave the comfort of the keep and make your way in the rough world. What would you face on the path? How would you overcome it? Will your decisions be right? You’ll never know. Small bits of courage rose in you as you remembered how hard it was to discover your new self. Surely nothing could be as hard as that.

You took a deep breath.

“Yeah, Esk… I’m ready.”

___________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @weaponizedvirtue @madamemelancholysstuff

#Vesemir lives #just had to fix canon #I had to include a little message to myself in the last paragraphs #im going away to a remote place for work soon and i'm scared!!#but surely the discoveries of myself that ive made in this time is much harder than living remote #eskel witcher #Eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #eskel x reader fluff #eskel my beloved #eskel imagine #the witcher #tw3 eskel #Witcher self insert #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction

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rileytwenty · 9 months

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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

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

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Witcher characters + monstertamer!reader

Summary: how characters from the Witcher would react to finding a person who has tamed monsters

Notes: i finally finished most of the drafts i had lying around and thought fuck it let's post them all. have fun with the new content!!

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @lucyinthelibrary @sunndust (hmu to be added to any kind of masterlist!!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Geralt

Probably found you bc he was supposed to kill said monsters in the first place

To me, Geralt comes across as someone who’s genuinely a good person

Idt he’ll kill your monsters, despite the money he was paid

Impressed, mostly stays to himself though

Yennefer

Obviously she wants to know how

You’re the only one on the Continent with this power and she wants it

It’s yen, what did you expect?

Will try to do even better than you

Jaskier

This is magical, magnificent, oh my!

Immediately writes a ballad of the enigma that tamed the monsters

Don’t let him get too close to them

Will ask for details to spice up his song

Ciri

She would try to kill the monsters in order to ‘protect’ Geralt

And frankly, she does not believe you at first

Will never get accustomed to the tame monsters

Her first instinct will always be that they’re bad

Eskel

In absolute awe

If he could do this, his job would be so much easier

Doesn’t care what others think, he’s always wanted to talk to a ghost

Does not want to kill them

Lambert

He’s like ‘ain’t no way bro’

So cool about it

Well if you can tame monsters

Then why tf does he still have to kill them

Coen

Super torn

He should be doing his job, instead he’s having tea with a Bruxa

Will probably end up killing the monsters

It’s his job after all

Vesemir

He needs to write this down!!!

Might like… froth at the mouth if you can’t tell him how you did it

TELL HIM

Comes back from retirement

#geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia headcanon #geralt imagine #yennefer x reader #jaskier x reader #eskel x reader #lambert x reader #coen x reader #vesemir x reader

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

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A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part I

Notes: I found Deglan super attractive when watching the witcher movie so I’m glad that people are interested in him! Thank you for this request! 😊

I also apologize for taking so long for this request (it’s been months I’m so sorry) and making this overly angsty. I get the feeling I can’t write anything else. I apologize if this is not what you expected, maybe I should do a warning tag that I can only write stories with angst. But hey, there’s a happy ending so no worries, right...? xD

Fandom: The Witcher

Warnings: Original Characters, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings

Summary: The life of a witcher is ruled by two things. Coin and monsters. Yet when Y/N looks at his mentor both fade into the background and a third variable enters the picture... But witchers don’t have it easy with love. And Y/N doesn’t seem to be an exception

Word Count: 4,773

Taglist: @thatsequoia

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Note 2: I just realized that you wrote “recently became a witcher” and I totally messed that part up I’m so sorry 0.o I hope you don’t mind the change! Since witchers have a pretty long life span, I decided that their training ends around the age of twenty something. So the reader is an adult (in our terms not the middle ages) when he becomes a full witcher. I invented quite a lot of stuff for this story so the non-canon in the description is really necessary xD

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII

Masterlist

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed and is addressed in this story, if you potentially get triggered please do not continue to read!

Additionally, please read the warnings as they change in some parts of the story

Y/N was different from the common folk.

As far as he was aware, not everyone had to pass harsh trials, risk his life with alchemical experiments and turn into a mutant with superhuman abilities, magical powers and the added side-effect of not being able to reproduce.

Aside from those obvious witcher affairs and the whole baggage that came with them, however, there was one more thing that was different about him. It wasn’t something he hated, no, not at all, it just made him lonely.

Loneliness had been part of a witcher’s life for hundreds of years, it was no surprise then that it was also part of Y/N’s. However, unlike others in his school, he had known that feeling since birth. Therefore, he was no stranger to it and it did not bother him up until a certain point in his adult life. But then... Well...

Y/N did not like the idea of visiting the many brothels of the land because he could not find comfort and pleasure there. In fact, they reminded him of his difference. A man like him would most likely never find happiness in those places, much less in another person, and certainly not in a woman.

But before he actually realized that, he had hopes and dreams.

He hoped, and he dreamed, and he loved.

Everything began when he was just a young boy with big dreams in the school of the Wolf. Big dreams that one could shatter easily...

“Damn, how many hours have passed now? I cannot feel my arms anymore!”, cursed Fenri, supporting his hands on his knees to take a breather. Cole checked their surroundings before he lowered his steel sword and sat on one of the meager patches of grass in the courtyard.

The sun shone directly on his face and the keep’s high walls created long shadows on the ground. They had been training for hours now and Deglan had yet to come and tell them to stop.

Their group consisted of 8 boys who had miraculously survived the trials of Grasses and they had been in the school for around 3 years now and therefore knew how shit worked in the school’s keep.

Consequently, it was a normal occurrence for the witcher to leave their training unsupervised, while he checked on the lessons of the younger ones. But despite his absence, he always seemed to sense when they were slacking off.

And that often happened when their younger friend Wendir was with them. The boy was originally part of a younger group but he was the only survivor during the trials of the Grasses and due to his fate, he would often train with them, although he was known to tempt the other boys to take a break. He was unexpectedly lazy for a witcher apprentice.

Yet, this time the boys did not fear Deglan’s wrath because they were accompanied by their friend Y/N, who had finally recovered from his last alchemical experiments.

If Deglan ever discovered their break, the older one would save them from his harsh punishments. They could trust Y/N due to the many experiences they had shared and the times he had saved them selflessly during their trials. Therefore, they rested their sore bodies for a while.

Said youth was currently wiping the sweat from his forehead, although he did not look nearly as exhausted as the rest of them. His breathing was shockingly even for the fact that they had just swung their swords 1000 times at straw puppets.

However, this was not a surprise at all for any of the boys.

Y/N was the oldest among them, he had the most fighting experience and he also underwent the most additional experiments. The scars and muscles on his lean body were proof of that. Y/N's stamina and capabilities were already beyond a child of his age, which gave him quite a few admirers but also rivals.

The blond Fenri followed Y/N's gaze across the courtyard. He was once again staring at Tristan - one of the young witchers who took care of the new brats. He did not know why Y/N seemed to always gaze at the black-haired man with an unreadable expression but it had reached a point where it annoyed him to death. So he opened his gob and said words he would regret for years in the future:

“You know if you continue to stare, someone might start to think you fancy the man.”

Fenri’s comment made the other guys focus on him, their laboured breathing hindered them from asking questions though. Yet Y/N, the person he addressed did not pay him any attention. His yellow eyes did not even move an inch away from Tristan’s form.

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole breathlessly.

“One might think Y/N is in love with Tristan.”

Fenri watched the oldest of their group closely to see any kind of reaction from his words and the corner of his lips twitched when he saw how the h/c haired boy straightened his back and turned towards him, a contemplative expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with that?”, asked Barmin, curiously staring at his friend.

Seven pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly and Fenri had to pause for a second. He did not exactly know how to answer that question but it was not like he was spouting lies. His mother told him when he was younger and still lived with his family. It was just wrong.

“You cannot be in love with a man," he responded confidently. “Men love women, women love men, that is the law of nature. Men loving men is... gross.”

The boys did not look convinced and while he tried to find a better response to why love between two men was wrong, the blond noticed that Y/N focused his attention on their training again, he raised his dull training blade about to swing at one of the straw puppets once more.

Fenri frowned in annoyance. It seemed as if he could never truly rattle the older boy he considered his rival. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. One day he would triumph over the other, whether that would be in a conversation or battle.

Robin and Milan began to argue about his words and their voices got louder and louder now that they had regained their breaths.

“Who said you cannot like another boy? Is it not just love?”

“I have never liked another boy or been liked by one before! So it isn’t natural, it cannot be!”

“That is just because you have a brain the size of mouse shit and a nose like a potato! No one would like you anyways, be it a girl or a boy!”

“Fuck, what did you just say?! You want to fight?”

“As if you’d win against me!”

Their argument turned a few heads of passing witchers and students and Fenri sensed that if he did not stop them soon, they could expect an angry Deglan on their arses at any second.

“Did you fools not listen to the talk of our seniors? They said themselves that we want to fuck broads left and right when we finish all of our experiments! Women NOT men!”

He hoped this argument was enough to silence them. He did not expect his teasing to initiate a fight. And judging by the eyes on his two friends who were at each other’s throats, they had been loud enough to draw attention.

Luckily, they quickly shut their mouths when Cole stared at them disapprovingly. The boy looked somewhat like a scolding mother and it was very effective. Hopefully, they didn’t alert Deglan. Who knew where he was lurking...

The fact that he used rather crude words did not come to his mind until he heard someone clear his throat behind him and based on it, he knew exactly why everyone had turned dead silent and why Y/N had turned around and stared at him - or most likely at Deglan behind him who had mysteriously shown up out of nowhere.

“What a nice discussion you have during your training. Would you like some fucking tea served to it?”

Fenri tensed and did not know if he should turn around or not. Before he could do anything though, Y/N stepped forward with his steel sword. Cole sighed in relief.

“No tea, sir,” was all the boy said when he changed his posture into a defensive stance, sword tip pointing at Deglan. He held his sword firmly in his hand, ready to distract their mentor from his friends like usual.

Had Fenri turned around, he would have seen the glint of amusement in Deglan’s eyes, one that only showed when the h/c haired boy uselessly tried to cover for his friends by challenging the witcher to a fight. Even now he tried it even though he caught them red-handed while they slacked off.

Deglan and everyone else knew Y/N would always lose - the fool himself knew - he was just a brat after all, but Deglan found it amusing that the boy tried again and again. His desperate attempts of creating a diversion amused him greatly.

The witcher saw through it every time, yet he never punished the boy, nor his friends too harshly.

Deglan found Y/N’s protective spirit commendable and it impressed him every time how fast he came up with new fighting tactics. Furthermore, the injuries that the boy sustained in each fight were probably punishment enough.

“Ready for round 24? Or is it 25?” he asked the h/c haired youth while rolling his left shoulder with a subtle smile.

“Actually it’s 27," Y/N replied, and Deglan hummed. The witcher glanced at the sword in his hands and grinned.

“I think my fists are enough for today.”

Y/N frowned. After their seventeenth fight, the witcher had begun to use his sword, so why...?

His eyes took in his surroundings and he realized that the people in the courtyard, the young witchers, the new candidates and their potential mentors, all were now watching them, even Tristan.

Automatically Y/N’s heart began to pound faster. His gaze lingered on the black-haired witcher and when something moved in the periphery of his vision, he could only gasp in alarm before he crashed face first in the dirt. A painful groan escaped him and a bolt of pain shot through his neck where Deglan had hit him.

“Getting distracted means getting yourself killed”, warned his mentor and the laughter of the surrounding witchers made Y/N’s face burn from embarrassment.

This was the first time in a while that he could not even swing his sword at Deglan before he got humiliated.

Shame rose in his chest, but he was also angry. Deglan played dirty by attacking him while distracted, although he knew that neither monsters nor human enemies would act chivalrously in a real fight.

One might expect him to have thick skin after 27th defeats but getting embarrassed in front of so many people was different, especially when a certain young man was watching him.

He wished a hole would open up under him and swallow him whole.

Y/N slowly stood up, mud caked his clothes and his face and he grimaced. He had bit his lip during the fall and the taste of iron was disgustingly familiar. He was about to grasp his sword again, ready for defeat number 28 when Deglan dismissed him with the movement of his hand.

“Training's over for you, mud face. Go wash yourself and you-”, he pointed at Fenri, Cole and the rest of Y/N’s friends, “you lot follow me.”

Deglan’s voice turned icy towards the end and he walked past the dirty boy, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder.

Y/N almost lost his balance but quickly regained it. His ears were red from embarrassment and before Cole could nudge him encouragingly, he turned around and quickly crossed the courtyard to escape the still laughing pack of witchers.

His defeat hurt more than usual, probably because Tristan had been watching, and it annoyed him. Sighing, he rubbed his face.

When he washed himself that day, he scrubbed his skin vigorously and pondered about the events that happened that afternoon.

He should have felt guilty for not being able to distract Deglan from his friends. They had probably gotten punished with "special” training - exactly what they had wanted to avoid since the last time had been absolutely horrible... But he couldn’t shake off the gnawing irritation.

It was probably due to Fenri's words.

The younger boy often tried to egg him on, but he rarely succeeded. This time, however...

Y/N racked his brain about Fenri's statement from before. Was he not allowed to like Tristan? He had never questioned his feelings up to this point so it greatly disturbed him.

"Men loving men... is gross..."

These words would haunt him in the coming years and torment him in his sleep because that had been the moment when he realized that his feelings for another man might be viewed as unnatural by other people. What exactly that would mean for him was something he learned only later, though.

When Y/N had laid down in his straw bed in the stables that night, not sure if he could sleep after the event in the afternoon, Cole nudged him and said:

"You know, I don’t believe men liking men is gross. We have many other things to worry about, so the feelings of another man are the least of our concerns, nor are they our business. Deglan told us that...”

He stopped for a second and then whispered: “I think Fenri is acting like a cunt because no girls are training to become witchers. He is just a lonely pent-up arsehole, you know."

Y/N snorted when "I heard that, you bastard!" came from somewhere in the back and some hay flew across the room, hitting Robin, who was laying in another straw hollow right next to him. He sneezed loudly.

“Shit, I was this close to sleeping, you fucker! I’ll get you!”

Chaos ensued, 5 boys were brawling and the discussion was over before Y/N could answer Cole or ask him any questions.

But a little later, after all of them were screamed at by one of the witchers on night guard; when Y/N was the only one still awake, he contemplated what Cole had meant.

Did his mentor not have anything against the thought of two men liking each other? Did he take his friends aside to tell them that and not to punish them?

He would have to ask Cole in the morning... Or should he ask Deglan directly?

The idea made his heart speed up suddenly. Why was he so nervous?

Out of nowhere, he saw his mentor in a different light.

In the end, he did not ask Deglan directly. He was too shy. But his mind replayed Cole’s words for days after that. And that marked the moment when Y/N’s eyes began to unconsciously follow someone other than Tristan.

Yes, he still watched the black-haired young man from time to time, but their training suddenly entailed a lot more lectures and so he began to see Deglan daily, while Tristan crossed his path less and less. And then came spring and the young witcher went on the Path - as many others - and his absence left a hole in Y/N’s usual routine. A hole he filled with a new person of his interest; Deglan.

The man was a renowned witcher, known for his strength and knowledge in the school and Y/N had begun to respect him after the first five losses of their duels. His respect began to grow even further, however, after observing Deglan closely every day.

The older witcher was a dick sometimes, his training was harsh, he could be insensitive on occasions and when his arms spasmed in pain after their mindless sword-swinging exercises Y/N hated him with a passion, but there was something about his mentor that drew his eyes to him again and again in the following years of his training.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, maybe it was the way he treated Y/N or maybe it was his rugged but strong appearance...

The youth watched how Deglan poured a bucket of water over his naked upper body after his training with the older apprentices.

Nevermind, his appearance was definitely one of the reasons why.

A weird feeling spread in his gut, as he watched how water droplets travelled across Deglan’s scarred back muscles. His ears started to burn and the youth at the threshold of adulthood turned away to hack at the training straw doll with newfound vigor.

While Deglan’s appearance definitely drew Y/N in, his character made his eyes return every time.

Thanks to his advanced training and the experiments, he was allowed to share moments with Deglan, when the rough exterior of the man vanished, to show his true character underneath. His kindness, his understanding, his humour.

Of course, there were also moments when Y/N despised the man. He was his mentor after all and every witcher had such instances during their first years at the school.

When Y/N was subjected to more experiments than the other witchers in training and experienced more pain than them, he often cried at night, cursing Deglan in his thoughts. And he cursed himself for letting himself be overwhelmed by his mentor’s praise after he survived the experiments.

When Cole died during one of the trials because of a mage’s accident and Deglan did not dare speak out against the said man, he exploded on him and screamed his voice raw.

Yet although these incidents happened, Y/N could never truly hate him. Deglan had already conquered his heart.

The older man personally tended to him after his experiments. He cleaned his wounds, stayed up for nights to take care of his fever and made sure he was not left with horrible scars. Thanks to his care, Y/N’s face was not completely disfigured.

And he made sure that the young adult was proud of his achievements.

Y/N blushed like a maiden every damn time when Deglan commented on his fierce-looking scars, while his heart tried to crawl out of his ribcage and present itself to the other man as if he were a god.

And when Cole had died Deglan properly buried the boy, let his friends hold a funeral and allowed them a mourning period. They did not have to train then and Y/N spent his time at Cole’s grave, heart heavy and full of guilt.

One day he had a breakdown, he blamed himself for Cole’s death and he felt the urge to hurt himself - because he should have been the one to die, he should have gone with that magician, it had been his turn - Deglan had given him a good punch and then an even better hug to calm him down.

Y/N’s dreams had revolved around that embrace for several months when Deglan had gone out on the path, his heartbeat like an echo in his ears and his mentor’s scent and strong arms engulfed him in his sleep.

His dreams changed during these months and more often than not he would wake up sweaty in the morning and he hurried to clean his clothes before his friends would wake up.

Due to these fantasies, his heart thundered in his ears whenever the older witcher would get too close after his return.

There was something special between them, their bond was more than just apprentice and mentor, Y/N fully believed that and allowed himself to dream.

It only took one summer for Y/N’s thoughts to get captivated by Deglan. Five more for him to finally admit that his feelings for the man were more than just admiration and two winters for him to realize that he wanted, needed Deglan and him to become lovers.

And then one night only, for his older self to learn that he had imagined everything between them, that he was a blind fool...

It had been just a normal evening if one ignored the fact that Y/N and his friends had finally reached the end of their training and would become full-grown witchers in about one moon. Soon they would set out alone on the Path for the first time. And simultaneously the day drew near on which Y/N planned to confess his feelings.

At first, it had been just a daydream but the eye contact he had shared with his mentor in the past weeks had only made his feelings stronger and so he decided to gather his courage to confess the day before he would leave for the Path. In case something would go wrong, he could leave quietly, although he did not actually fret about this, he was convinced that Deglan liked him as well.

The aspiring witchers were sitting in the evening hall, drinking ale and playing Gwent after a fulfilling meal, while their mentors told stories and their younger peers listened to them intently.

Suddenly, the door got thrown open and Deglan, followed by the current leader Rennes and two other drunk witchers entered the hall.

Deglan and the two others had gone down the mountains a few days ago because a noble had sent a letter about a beast that woke up early from its hibernation. It seemed like they had just returned.

“Fuck, Deglan, why is it always you? That lady... Those lips are not just good for talking, you know that personally, right? Tell me and the lads about it!”

Y/N turned his head at the mention of his mentor’s name and he put down the cards in his hands to find the man among the newcomers. He hoped Deglan came back unscathed.

The drunk witchers whistled loudly and patted Deglan’s shoulders expectantly after they had sat down on one of the tables next to the fire.

Y/N's eyes found the older man and his heart pounded faster. The ale made him slightly drowsy and his imagination was running wild after seeing how Deglan's shirt was torn at the front, showing his strong abdominal muscles and his impressive scars. He didn’t seem to have any injuries and the h/c haired witcher sighed in relief.

Lewd thoughts rushed through his mind while he watched the man and he remembered one of the daydreams he had in their latest lecture. He moved in his seat and gripped his thigh to calm down before he would embarrass himself.

His mentor swatted the hands of one of the other witchers away and said something incoherent, while Vesemir, the young boy Deglan had brought back a few months ago, hurried to get some ale from the barrels in the corner and gave each of the newcomers a mug.

“We all saw her eyes, she was like a bitch in heat next to her husband, the poor lad. You’ve been warming her bed, have you not? While that old fart rots away, you cheeky fucker!” hollered one of the drunk witchers before downing his drink in one gulp.

Deglan lowered his head, as if he was embarrassed and gruffly answered:

“Can’t believe I told you about that...”

These quiet-spoken words echoed loudly in Y/N’s ears due to his mutated hearing. Y/N blinked. The conversations in the hall turned muffled as his heartbeat resounded loudly in his ears and he lowered his eyes to look at his hands which he unconsciously formed into fists.

You’ve been warming her bed... Can’t believe I told you...

Something in Y/N made an ugly noise. Barmin looked up from his cards and tilted his head, worried. His friend opened his mouth and said something but Y/N could not hear it.

Deglan was sleeping with some noblewoman.

It made sense.

He was a witcher and they did have an insatiable urge for sex. It was a side effect of the alchemic experiments and for them it was natural. They even had a lecture about it during their first training years.

But for Y/N, who had experienced the carnal desire several times already since his completion of the trials and who used his hands to deal with the problem, it had been somehow logical that Deglan would not choose to lay with any women.

His mentor was usually never involved in any of the lewd discussions of the older witchers, so he naturally assumed that Deglan did not bed any ladies ever.

Y/N must have brainwashed himself into thinking that the older man stayed in his room and fucked himself while thinking about him, that’s at least what he had been doing.

But it seemed like he got it all wrong.

It was his own delusion and the realization that he had been wrong all this time hit him like a punch in the throat. It left him breathless.

He felt betrayed - he had no reason to feel betrayed, Deglan was not even aware of this... possessive mess of emotions in his chest that he felt for him - and the realization that whatever feelings and dreams of a shared future Y/N had for Deglan were probably useless dawned on him.

Fenri’s words from all those years ago once again echoed in his mind.

“Men loving men is gross.”

An image of Deglan with a beautiful woman appeared in his head. His mentor held her close, one of his hands on her hip and the other held her hands and the man smiled, one of these crooked but beautiful smiles he only seemed to show when Y/N and he were alone.

And it hurt. It fucking hurt.

He was unable to transform the image, he could not take the place of that woman because he was as tall as Deglan by now and his spine did not have a soft curve and his hands could not be covered entirely by Deglan’s and all the stupid romance tales Robin dumped on them during their breaks did not entail two men with scars and rough, blister-covered hands and so he could not see himself next to Deglan because it was not meant to be.

The shitty fairy tale romance he had spun in his mind would never come to life.

The hope and delusion he had for all these years shriveled in his heart and died.

He had been wrong. The bond he felt between him and Deglan could not be what he had imagined.

Y/N was an orphan, his parents had had no need for him, he had been a waste of space and that was why they dumped him on the orphanage’s doorsteps, and while he did eventually find a home in the witcher’s keep - a home for the outcasts of society - he apparently remained an outsider even here.

An outcast among outcasts, was this not the fucking worst?

Y/N cursed the experiments that gave him better hearing, he cursed the witcher who brought him to the school, he cursed his heart for once again choosing an unreachable person and he cursed the world for making him the way he was.

And he cursed Deglan for treating him so kindly, as if he were special, as if there was something between them, something that could grow and turn into love and make them soulmates.

His mentor probably only treated him better because he had been praised as an exceptional student, a perfect test subject for experiments and a great fighter.

Not because he saw who Y/N really was, what he longed for...

How could he even think about confessing his feelings?!

He had to stifle a hollow laugh because of the irony and before Barmin or Fenri or Milan or any other of their table’s occupants could say anything, he abruptly stood up and left the hall.

His way led him past the table where Deglan was sitting but Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the door and even when his mentor called out his name, he did not turn around.

He disappeared behind the wooden door of the hall and missed the dark look in Deglan's eyes as the man watched the retreating back of the younger witcher.

He missed his mentor’s furious gaze on the drunk witcher who spouted nonsense and Rennes’ commentary that Deglan would never fuck some random noble woman, in fact, he wasn’t sure if the guy even had a dick because he never lusted after any woman, no matter if she were a virgin, succubus or a literal goddess.

He missed it all.

32 notes · View notes

cardierreh15 · 2 years

Text

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.9K

Chapter 4: Kaer Morhen

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

‘Phoenix, this is—‘

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

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

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

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

***

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

‘Geralt is that a—‘

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt pressed his lips together and give her a nod. ‘Mmm.’

‘Then — you did what was right.’ She sniffed and looked back down at the skull before slowly standing to her feet. ‘This is— stellar.’

Geralt chuckled, ‘If you say so. Come, there’s warmth inside.’ And he jerked his head towards the large doors. Phoenix smiled softly and followed the tall broody man towards the doors.

As they walked inside, the hall was bustling with noise and men chattering. Phoenix was too busy taking in the place to truly pay attention to the conversations. All until it got deathly quiet. She knew then, that the attention was on the both of them.

To be frank, it was eerie. Phoenix swallowed her spit and stepped a tad bit closer to Geralt as they all stood to their feet. ‘Don’t you worry. They’re all harmless.’ He smirked, reassuring her.

‘BLOODY HELL!’ One with ginger curly hair exclaimed, walking over to the both of them. ‘Took you long enough shit head!’ And he embraced Geralt in a tight hug. Once she knew the coast was clear, Phoenix stepped to the side, allowing his Witcher brother’s to welcome him back home. All until—

‘Aye, You’ve brought a guest?’ Another had asked, a bald black man with a blind eye and an intriguing smile. The rest of the men had immediately turned their attention to the woman who stood only a mere few feet away from Geralt. ‘This is Princess Phoenix of Jedajél.’

The room grew quiet once again. Until she waved her hand once, ‘Hello, gentlemen. It’s an honor.’ And it was! She wanted to be a Witcher when she was a little girl. Be the first woman that endured the Trial of the Grasses. But her life steered her in a different direction.

‘Haven’t gotten enough of bringin’ princesses around eh?’ The ginger asked. Geralt’s eyes narrowed and his lips frowned up, ‘aye, aye— relax. I’m only fuckin’ around. Aye, Princess? Anyone who is a friend to Geralt, is a friend of ours!’ And the room erupted with a glorious roar.

That alone was enough to make Phoenix smile. She had never truly been welcomed anywhere. Maybe this was where she was intended to be.

The noises of footsteps had captured her attention. They were not synchronized so there were two people. And one sounded lighter than the other. ‘Ahhh, wolf— you’re home.’ All of the men stepped to the side, looking back at a older male with gray shoulder length hair. Standing next to him, was a young girl. Ashen hair— eyes as green as emeralds. This was the girl. The girl that the continent had literally stopped for. Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Ciri had taken long strides over to him and embraced him in what had seem to be a tighter hug than what his brother’s had given him. And Geralt had returned that hug, in the same manner. ‘Welcome back, Geralt.’

He had pulled away from her, his large hands now resting on her arms and a proud smile on his lips. ‘It’s good to be back Ciri,’ then he paused, his head gently falling to the side as his smile had disappeared. Phoenix studied them— their body language. He was no different than a biological father. Even at first glance you’d think she was his. With all that strange beauty. ‘Ciri?’

Ciri’s smile had faltered as well, in worrisome as if she was in trouble. Her eyebrows tugged in together as if she was trying to understand the shift in energy, ‘Yes?’

Phoenix braced herself. Waiting.

‘Have you done something different to your hair?’

Ugh, he was liable to give someone a heart attack with his antics.

Phoenix had rolled her eyes and silently giggled, her head falling forward.

Ciri halfway blinked before giving her father a happy grin, ‘Indeed. It looks like yours almost.’

‘See? I knew it looked familiar. Very nice, Cirilla.’ And he gave her head a gentle, loving pat before he glanced over to see Phoenix taking in all this — joy. Cirilla then followed his glare. ‘Who is this?’ She asked.

Phoenix stood up straight, gently clearing her throat as the two came closer. ‘Ciri, this is Princess Phoenix of Jedajél. Phoenix this is—‘

‘The Legendary Lion Cub of Cintra. I— my Gods!.’ She reached out towards the girl and grasp her smaller hands in hers. They were callused. Rough as if she had been a knight instead of a princess. The same kind of hands Phoenix had. She gave them a gentle and loving squeeze, ‘It’s a pleasure, Cirilla.’

Even with the power Phoenix wielded, she knew that Cirilla could flip this world inside out with out the effort. And with that, she felt an familiar urge around Ciri. One that was similar to the twins. One to protect.

Ciri gave Phoenix a smile, intrigued by the news. ‘I wasn’t aware that there was any Princesses in Jedajél. They said that she was dead.’

Phoenix scuffed and nodded, ‘Of course they did. I was Princess before your time darling. I don’t really like to carry the title anymore though. Way too much authority for me.’ She giggled, placing her hands on her hips as she looked up at Geralt.

Geralt looked over at her with a nod in understanding, but in reality— he was trying to hide that smirk that was cracking at the corners of his lips.

Ciri smiled softly, glancing between the two. She couldn’t tell if there was something going on between Phoenix and Geralt. From how it looked, they appeared to be friends. But, leave it to her to snoop around for clues and theories. ‘How did you two meet?’

‘Well,—‘

‘It’s a story that can be shared once we all meet for dinner. I don’t know about you Phoenix but, our travels have caught up with us. We’re starting to smell like it.’

Phoenix’s eyebrows tugged together and looked down at her shoulder, pinched at her blouse and did a quick sniff. And she was absolutely mortified! ‘Augh! How is it that we still smell like The Gwellech?’ She whispered in slight embarrassment.

‘SINCE WHEN WAS IT THAT YOU CARED ABOUT YOUR STENCH?!’ The ginger called out before he took a sip of his ale.

Geralt’s head snapped over and that devious grin had curled on his lips, ‘Since when did you possess such a big mouth, Lambert? Oh I forgot! You’ve always had it!’ The room erupted with laughter.

Ciri watched Phoenix as the woman did her best to control her laughter. ‘Vesemir always keeps extra gowns for his guests…’ she implied, ‘That’s if you’d like to smell like drowners and week old onions.’ And she gave Phoenix a half smile. Phoenix gasped softly and looked over at Ciri, ‘Oh dear! Do I smell that bad?’ And she lifted her arm this time, she didn’t have to dip her head down to smell. It had hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. ‘Oh-‘ she gagged, ‘OK, I’ll take your word for it.’

***

Knock, Knock— ‘Come in.’ She said softly as she sat in that large wooden tub. It was filled with decent warm water but she was able to bring it to a gentle boil so her body could relax. Ciri pushed open the door gently with towels in her hands, ‘I’ve just come to drop these off. They’re not… what we’re used to but, they’ll do.’ And she sat down on the wooden stool.

‘Thank you Cirilla. But trust me, I’ve been handed worse. These are fine.’ Phoenix chuckled and pressed her lips together before her head fell back against the tub. Her eyes were closed. She finally felt like she could truly, rest!

Well, not exactly.

‘You know it’s hard to relax when someone is burning a hole in your head with their eyes. Speak child.’

Ciri’s eyebrows raised in surprise a little, ‘i suppose I could have given you some privacy.’ But would she? She was too— interested to know about this woman. But it grew quiet again. She only wanted to ask a question… one that would answer all of the ones she had. ‘What happened to you?’

Phoenix’s eyes flashed open and she sat up. She stared at her with soft eyes. She had knew what Ciri had lost as well. Though the circumstances were different, she couldn’t help but feel the same… two princesses, hated because of what they were, loved because the good they’ve done. Their families stripped away from them like a patch on unhealed wound.

‘You know when I was younger than you Cirilla, I dreamed of becoming a Knight. I loved the idea so much that my father made it his business to have his Golden Knight train me like a orphan off of the street.’ She scoffed and shook her head slightly, ‘When I got older— I looked into becoming a Witcher. I read everything, what it would take— the risks. But then my father met my The Kingdom’s mage. She got in close, told me that it was my destiny to be Queen. That I was born for this and that I was the one and true heir to the throne. Hell, she even taught me how to manage and control my own chaos! But there are snakes always lurking in the grass.’ Phoenix lifted her hand out of the water, channeling that warm energy to her palm. And a bright orange ball of flames appeared in her hand.

Ciri slowly stood up from her stool and kneeled down in front of the tub. Her bright green eyes gazed at the burning ball as if it were going to disappear into thin air! ‘You have it too… chaos.’

Phoenix breathe out with a soft smile curling on her lips, ‘I — wouldn’t call it that. Sure it is chaotic… but for me, it’s a gift.’ And the orange ball of flames turned blue.

Ciri smiled softly, at a loss of words. ‘Then?’

‘My father married her when I was around your age. And she fell pregnant 8 months before my 18th birthday. And the day before my birthday— my father was found murdered in his chambers. She placed the blame on me. Had everyone question my loyalty and manipulated them into believing that I was jealous and angry that it was possible that my father could have a son. The kingdom figured I wanted revenge— so I left and never came back. I’ve had a bounty on my head ever since.’ With her last words, she finally closed her palm, and the blue flame had finally died out.

Ciri’s green eyes glanced from her fist, to her face. She could tell that it still bothered her. Her eyes were sad, and her aura was blue. ‘What about your mother? What happened to her?’

‘She died from influenza when I was 10…’ her brown eyes finally met Ciri’s face once again.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I was pretty young when my parents died too…’ she paused, ‘Do you remember her? Do you miss her?’

The thought of her mother made Phoenix’s heart grow 10 times the size! Her mother was noble, intelligent, kind, brave— and most of all, she loved her only daughter with her every fiber. She sniffed, blinking back tears. ‘Every day Ciri, every day.’

Cirilla’s head forward, looking down in her own reflection of the water. ‘I don’t remember much of my parents. But my grand mother was my everything. She was strong, wise and she— only wanted to protect me.’

Phoenix nodded with a smirk, ‘Yes. Queen Calanthe of Cintra. She was a force! I am terribly sorry for your loss, Lion Cub,’ she leaned forward and gently placed her finger tips beneath her chin to lift her head, ‘Had she been here today to see you— she would be so proud of you. I know it.’ Ciri’s eyes filled with thick tears as a sweet smile curled on her lips.

Then, a sudden knock interrupted the moment. ‘Cirilla,’ and Geralt walked through the door, with soft yellow robes in his fist, ‘Are you antagonizing our company?’ Ciri cleared her throat and stood up. ‘She’s fine Geralt. We were just having a heart to heart.’ Geralt glanced from Phoenix to Ciri who had just a half smile. ‘Hmm, go get cleaned up for dinner. Lambert is making it.’

Ciri rolled her eyes, ‘lovely,’ she said in a sarcastic tone and started towards the door, ‘Gross.’

Phoenix let out a gentle chuckle, shaking her head. ‘You’re too hard on that girl.’ She took the bar of soap and started washing her body off.

‘Only to protect her. It gets the job done.’ He said leaning against the wall.

‘Oh look at you… sounding like a father…’

‘Hmph, unfortunately.’

‘You know it causes her to rebel,’ she paused for a second, watching as his face mold into something more treacherous. ‘Look, I know — how special Ciri is. I can… feel it when I’m near her. How powerful she is. But if you become too strict and allow the roles of power and parenting to mix— it won’t end pretty. Not for you. Not for this world.’

Geralt stood there with his arms folded in silence.

Phoenix sucked at her teeth, ‘fine. Don’t listen to me then.’ And she started rinsing her body off. She then stood up, stretching out her curvaceous body as she did so. She then reached over and grabbed the white, red wine stained towel and patted down her body before completely wrapping it around her bare breasts. Geralt stared. As he always did when he saw her naked.

‘You could always paint a picture, Witcher,’ her back was turned, ‘It may last longer.’ She smirked.

He rolled his eyes and stood up straight, ‘Well it’s too bad my brushes no longer have their bristles.’ Such a smart ass. ‘I only wish to bring you this.’ And he placed the folded up dress on the stool. ‘Don’t take too long Princess. The wine and ale will be gone before it touches the table top.’ He smirked as he turned away and walked out of the bathroom.

***

Phoenix sucked in a deep breath, sucking in that tummy as she reached behind her to tighten that corset in the back. She had forgotten what it was like to wear things like this. Even though the fortress was in ruin, Vesemir had seem to have the finest of threads when it came down to the women.

Once she was done, she finally took a breath in relief and walked over to the mirror. She smooth out her the fabric on her stomach, stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom.

She listened to them. Their obnoxious laughter could navigate her even through the darkest of nights without her powers. And when she drew closer to the main hall, she swallowed her spit and held her chin high.

There it was again. The silence. All those eyes glaring at her from across the room as if she was a fish out of water. But she stared back, showing them that she wasn’t the one to be frightened. Only they weren’t trying to scare her.

Suddenly, Ciri grabbed her hand. ‘Come. You can come sit with me and Geralt.’ Phoenix looked over at Ciri with a gentle smile, ‘I would love to.’ And the girls started towards the end of the table. As they walked, some of the men cat called and whistled after her. Things she had heard before but—

‘Well. I did wonder what was beneath all of those rags and to say to least, I’m impressed!’ Lambert said and the room went into an uproar of laughter.

Phoenix took a deep breath as she sat down in front of Geralt. ‘Knock it off Lambert.’ He was munching on a piece of meat. He didn’t dare look up or bat an eye though. It was like— he was in charge almost?

‘Aw shit brother! We’re just poking a lil’ fun. Pokin’.’ And the room rattled with laughter again. Ciri rolled her eyes and placed her hand on top of Phoenix’s, ‘Don’t pay him mind Phoenix. He’s a lonely old coot. When ever he sees a pretty girl, he says stupid things.’ She murmured as she popped a piece of bread in her mouth.

Phoenix chuckled and nodded, ‘I see.’ She reached over and took a piece of bread. But before she could pop it in her mouth, she heard twinkling. Chiming like charms. She didn’t realize how she’d missed it before.

She placed her bread down back into the bowl and stood up to her feet. She then carefully stepped over the bench and started to walk over to the The Witcher’s Medallion Tree.

Finally when she stood in front of it, she took notice of how many medallions that hung. She knew about the Sacking of Kaer Morhen— when the humans had come to rid them of their existence— but since then, they have seem to have lost so many more. There had to be at least 100 there.

Phoenix reached up to grab the closest one in her reach between her finger tips. Her thumb ran over the cold wolf engraved silver. As if she needed anymore proof that she was here, taking refuge here at the School of the Wolf.

‘You seem so fond of this place,’ Geralt said as he walked up behind her. ‘If you’d like we could always trade places? You slay the monsters for coin, and I get to sit on a throne, making demands all day.’ He scuffed and folded his arms.

Phoenix smirked and let go of the medallion, ‘Is that what you think ruling a kingdom is all about?’ She raised a brow, ‘I didn’t know you were interested in becoming King.’ She looked up at him, with her head slightly fallen to the side.

‘Hmm, I’m not. Too much responsibility. I’m just now trying to figure this Child of Surprise thing out— sure you don’t expect me to run a Kingdom?’ He smirked.

She inhaled slightly and tan her fingers through her thick curls, ‘Ahhh, yes.’ Then she turned to look back towards the Tree. ‘You— had to be young when the Sacking of Kaer Morhen happened. How many were there?’

Geralt looked up at the tree, ‘23 Witchers… 40 students…and over time more medallions were added to the Tree.’

Phoenix pressed her lips together, her heart squeezing in her chest. How could someone hurt such promising young souls. Most of them knew of nothing they did! Humans and their fear never did anyone good, now there weren’t many Witcher’s left to protect them from what hid in the darkness of night.

‘At least they will be remembered. My father’s Golden Knight, Levy, told me the stories and read me the books,’ she scuffed, ‘Treated them as if they were horror stories but, I was much more intrigued on how to become one and why women weren’t allowed.’ She turned around to face him again.

‘We have our reasons. Will you join us now?’

Phoenix pressed her lips together, 'I will join you and Ciri in a second.' she looked back at the tree one more time as Geralt turned away and walked back towards the table. She stared up at the tree, getting lost in the sounds of the gentle jingling. Then a gentle smile curled on her full lips. This was all, in the strangest of ways, a dream come true.

#witcher geralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #witcher x black plus size female reader #Geralt x Phoenix #Princess Cirilla #Cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #The continent #Lambert #Vesemir #Kaer morhen #coën #coën/lambert #black woman #henry cavill x black plus size woman #pyrokinesis #fire bringer #their chaos

67 notes · View notes

write-ur-wrongs · 2 years

Note

Geralt and Ciri's react to p/o being a rogue who uses stealth and is a thief. P/o stands for platonic other.

"Inviting them was a mistake," Geralt huffed, anxiously peeking around a corner before leading Ciri along behind him.

"Fucking right it was," Ciri muttered, checking her pocket for the hundredth time that day to ensure her favourite pin was still there.

"Language," Geralt warned simply without turning to look at her.

Ciri didn't bother responding. She just rolled her eyes, bit her tongue, and brought her hand back to her pocket; just to be sure.

Hearing something from around the corner, Geralt abruptly brought his hand up to signal Ciri stop in her tracks. Ciri, who was more focused on her own personal security, stumbled awkwardly into his arm, prompting another gruff reply from the witcher.

Before she had a chance to give him grief for failing to give her adequate warning before going full brick wall on her, they got the life scared out of them by Lambert.

“Fuck!” said both witchers simultaneously, sheathing their swords as Ciri fought to catch her breath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Geralt hissed, sweeping his gaze defensively around the hall.

“What do you think, brother? I’m hiding from Y/N! They stole half my vials, Geralt, the good half.” Lambert bit back, evidently on edge. “This is our home Geralt. You can’t keep bringing over strays, no offence Ciri -”

“Sure, sure,” she mumbled dismissively, keeping an eye on her surroundings.

“But them? This is getting out of hand.”

“Y/N is an exceptional asset in the trade, they’ve saved my hide more times than I care to admit. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them -”

“Your rucksack would probably be here if it weren’t for them,” Ciri interrupted sharply, only to toss her hands up in surrender when Geralt shot her a look so intense it might knock over a hellhound.

“- which is why,” he said pointedly, bringing his gaze back to Lambert, “I offered to have them join us at the keep for the winter.”

“Well, great, Y/N saves your life and ruins ours. That seems fair.” Lambert says, each word dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes and shoving Geralt in a way that could hardly be considered playful.

This launched the pair of them into a bickering match so profane that Ciri couldn’t help but jump into the fray, throwing her own sharp witticisms at the witchers in frustration.

Above them on the next floor, Y/N and Vesemir were laughing heartily as the voices of Lambert, Geralt, and Ciri’s verbal sparring match echoed through the keeps many corridors.

“Good grief, Y/N! You said Geralt gave you that rucksack,” Vesemir laughed into his stein, the foam from his mead floating into his beard.

“I say a lot of things, don’t I?” they replied easily, quirking a brow cheekily.

“Ha! Well, here’s to you keeping that lot on their toes, and me young at heart!” Vesemir chortled, bringing his stein up to theirs.

With that, the pair of them clinked steins happily as Geralt’s booming voice echoed from below. Who knows? Maybe a rogue like you could breathe new life into a place like this.

#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher series #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #Witcher #witcher fanfiction #lambert #vesemir #Cirilla of Cintra #witcher cirilla #anonymous #short and hopefully sweet???

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thesleepy1 · 2 years

Text

The Fighter And The Bard In Training

A/N: @shit-i-say-shit-i-think requested a fic where Eskel brings a mother of two back to the keep. Again, repeating theme we have here. A theme that I am completely ready to embrace because it is so damn soft. I just can’t with the wholesomeness. This fic right here? The one you’re about to read? Pure fluff. You’re welcome. Unbeta’d because we die like my heart after reading fluffy fics.

Pairings: Eskel x Reader, slight Jaskier x Geralt

Summary: After years together, Eskel finally decides it is time for you and your children to meet his side of the family. You two had only put it off until your youngest was old enough to handle the travel but since arriving at the keep, you didn’t know why you didn’t bring them along sooner. They loved it.

Or, “Can I please request an Eskel x reader where he brings his lady back to Kaer Mohren with her two kids?”

Word count: 3,047

Warnings: none that I know of

Astry was getting too big to be held in your arms but you had yet to complain. You wanted to cherish these moments for as long as you could because just the week before you had been nursing her. It still did not connect in your head how seven years had passed since you had to breast her. These few moments where she allowed you to carry her were memories that you would hold dear for years to come.

Your son, Stokrotka, was a different story entirely. The boy would be thirteen by the end of winter and he, unlike his younger sister, always sought out your physical attention. No matter if it had been a long day out running chores for the neighbors or a simple ache in his skin, he turned to you for a hug. You thought he would grow out of it but years passed and yet he returned time and time again.

Once more, no complaints here.

As you stood in the front halls of Kaer Morhen, Stokrotka to your left, Astry in your arms, and Eskel to your right; you could not feel more grateful for the family you had built. You and Eskel had been together for years but merely decided to hold off the trip until Astry was older. Now that she was old enough to make the trek up the mountain path, she and Stokrotka could finally meet their Pa’s family.

Vesemir was the first to greet you. You had only spoken with him through letters, his scratchy quill marks so unlike his voice when he said, “For such a dirty mouth through letters, I thought you would be taller.” ‘

You chuckled at him, already in love with the father of your husband. “Surprisingly enough, I get that one quite a bit.” You gave him a knowing wink, “Though I try to keep it down around the little ones.”

Vesemir smiled and although he and Eskel were not related by blood, you could see the resemblance in the spark in their eyes. He turned to peer at Stokrotka and Astry, the two unusually quiet. They knew they had nothing to be afraid of in witchers. However, it could be Vesemir’s natural aura which made people want to please him that kept the children silent.

“I’ve heard much about you two through the letters,” he spoke in a tone matching his grin. “This little one must be Stokrotka and the lad, Astry?”

“I’m Stokrotka and that’s Astry, actually,” Stokrotka’s matter of fact reply broke the tension. Astry erupted into a fit of giggles at Vesemir’s mistake. She wriggled free from your arms, your reflexes the only thing that prevented her from being dropped as her quick feet hit the cobblestone floors. She ran the short distance from Vesemir and bounced up and down as if she had not spent most of the day trekking up a mountain.

“You raised my Pa, right?” she asked with an infectious smirk. Eskel stood back with you to watch the interaction. A fond expression was on his face as Vesemir nodded and Astry beamed. “That makes you my Grandpa, yeah?”

“If you’d have me, I'd be happy to take up the job.”

*****

The next two people who had greeted you were Coen and Lambert. Two men that clearly had never interacted with children. When they first saw Stokrotka and Astry, they had greeted your children politely and returned to their game of gwent. Astry, who had never seen the game before, quickly took to watching their game to try to understand its rules.

She was seven and still struggled to read so she didn’t get very far.

Coen took pity on her and tried his best to explain to her the rules. Stokrotka nodded to himself as if making sure that Coen was correct even though the witcher had been alive and playing the game long before he was born. The boy had only ever played with you and Eskel when he woke up from nightmares. The game was a distraction from his thoughts. Eskel always let Stokrotka win and your son had never once beat you in a fair game. You were just too good. And you knew the boy could use a challenge to keep his mind off of things.

Despite Stokrotka’s nodding approval and Coen’s friendly demeanor, nothing seemed to have stuck with Astry. You saw that she was far too interested in the pictures on the cards then any game mechanics.

“You know I learned the game after a good pint or two of white gull,” Lambert took a large gulp of his drink just to prove his point.

“Can I have some?”

You laughed at Astry’s innocent inquiry but the smile quickly left your face as Lambert shrugged and handed her the tankard. Coen did nothing to stop her. All he did was jokingly request her to save Lambert some.

Before your daughter could be possibly poisoned by such strong alcohol you snatched the tankard right from her hands. “Alright, I think that’s enough with playing with Uncle Coen and Uncle Lambert.” You set the tankard down far from the edge of the table and turned to stir your children away. Eskel led them away with a stern look to his brothers. You whipped back around and pointed to the two witchers. “Your babysitting privileges are revoked until I feel like you can keep my children safe.”

“I had white gull when I was your boy’s age and I turned out fine,” Lambert brushed you off nonchalantly.

“You thinking that just proves her point.”

*****

Yennefer and Ciri were also wintering at the keep as well. The two were in the courtyard when you and Eskel went off to train. Astry sat on Eskel’s shoulders, her little hands gripped tightly on his hair to steer him one way or the other. Eskel did not seem to mind the stings of pain. His hand merely held onto Astry’s ankles to prevent her from falling.

Stokrotka had opted to stay in the library as per his fashion. Whether he had hid away in the large hall to read or to practice on his oud without anyone to hear, you weren’t quite sure. Either way, you had allowed him to run from the prospect of running drills without complaint. The boy had different interests than you and his sister and that was alright.

Ciri was training as well. Only she didn’t play with wooden swords like you and Astry. She held a heavy silver sword in her hand, slashing and tearing through the straw dummies like they had personally offended her. Astry stood to the side, as per your request, and watched in awe. She had seen Eskel train before but Ciri had a very different fighting style. One that had Astry gasping and oohing out loud.

“I want to try!” Astry exclaimed, watching as Ciri chopped off a dummy’s head in one clean swipe.

“Perhaps when you’re older,” Yennefer replied with a smile that lacked any condescension. She, unlike Lambert and Coen, had some common sense in her. “I think it's best to start out with those wooden swords. That’s what your father began with.”

“Really?” Astry was clearly skeptical. She peered up at Eskel as if daring him to lie to her. You chuckled into your hand at the sight, the witcher’s heightened senses hearing without comment. Eskel let go of your hand and kneeled down to Astry’s level.

“Ciri began with training weapons as well,” Eskel explained to his daughter. “But with practice and patience, she managed to hone her skills to be able to use a real sword without harming herself.” Eskel laid a gentle hand on Astry’s shoulder. “If you want to, you’ll get there someday.”

Astry’s dark eyes lit up like fireworks. She looked at Eskel as if he were the bright sparks of colors himself. “I could be a witcher?!”

Everyone laughed at her excitement. Astry bounced on the tip of her toes, her smile taking up most of the space on her face. Ciri paused in her training to walk over to Astry. Amusement was evident on the face of Geralt’s daughter. The two silver haired witchers had the same smug smile that you were tempted to wipe off if you had been on the end of it.

“Yennefer here is teaching me how to be a mage as well.”

Somehow, Astry’s eyes grew twice as large.

*****

By nightfall of the third night, the children had explored the whole keep. Some of the rooms were restricted for their safety but they were allowed to peer in to know the reason why. Some of them lacked stable foundations while others had gaping holes in the walls that led straight off the cliff’s edge. Other safer rooms were left with their doors open for the children’s enjoyment.

On occasion when Ciri had finished her training early, she would join them. Although she had been in the keep much longer, she enjoyed the adventure with your children. You could spot them running through the stone hallway from time to time. Eskel would talk of how he caught them riding down staircases on discarded mattresses. The three of them quickly grew as friends and as partners in crime.

“I’m going to kill them,” you told Eskel flatly one night as the two of you were getting ready for bed. He poked his head out behind the divider and looked at you with affection. “Don’t give me that look. I really am going to kill those three.”

“What did the children do now?”

“They found a way to sneak in Lil’ Bleater and her…special surprises.”

Eskel stalked closer to you. His chest was bare due to the interruption while he was undressing. Scars littered his tone chests, his muscles rippling with his calm breath. You tried to keep your eyes on his but failed. The sheer size of his torso momentarily made you forget your troubles with the children.

Eskel coughed in disgust which drew you back to the conversation at hand. “I understand your sudden murderous intent.” Eskel pinched his nose shut, a playful smile at the edge of his cleft lips. “Lil’ Bleater’s surprises are known for their…potency. Perhaps you should venture down to the hot springs.”

“You have no sympathy for me, do you, Eskel?”

Eskel kissed you briefly with a teasing smile, “Not an ounce my dear.”

*****

Besides the children’s antics, there was another stable in Kaer Morhen. Every afternoon Stokrotka would shut the library doors tight and play his oud. No one was allowed in without his explicit permission and even then, he would refuse to play in front of anyone. If questioned, he would merely answer, “It’s not quite finished yet. I still need to practice. Perhaps later.” Later typically meant never with the boy.

But if one happened to be a witcher and a supportive father, one may or may not be able to catch chords and lyrics while passing the closed library.

And specifically, who those lyrics address.

It was not news to you that Stokrotka was a fan of all the famous bards: Drogodar of Cintra, Essi Daven of Cidaris, Le Papillon of Toussaintois, Callonetta of Kovir, and Valdo Marx of Cidaris. You knew far too much of them despite not being a bard yourself. Stokrotka spoke of them whenever someone had gained his trust.

Eskel knew of them as well but Stokrotka’s favorite bard must have slipped his mind because he only realized then he knew the man. The way Stokrotka spoke of the bard was a tad idealized but Eskel was not going to stop the boy from having a harmless crush. Stokrotka could sing of cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw all he wanted. Eskel was a good father and all good fathers want only happiness for their children.

Though, at times a little embarrassment never hurt no anyone.

******

Geralt arrived usually late this year. He told the keep he had been caught up in some far off lord’s affair. For a man who complained of not wanting to get involved in human affairs, he tended to gravitate towards them. At the end of the day, all he had to show of them was a bad repudiation to some and a couple new scars. The coin was rarely ever good when stingy lords were involved.

No matter Geralt’s poor choice in contracts, you and Eskel greeted him with kindness. Eskel with the hug of brothers and you with the embrace of close friends. The children were no longer hesitant about new guests among the keep. If one could make up the mountain trails with a smile on their face then they must be a friend of the wolf witchers.

Astry gave Geralt a running hug much to the amusement and slight jealousy of the other witchers. She did not see any of the witchers as scary monster hunters. In the span of several weeks, the men had become her uncles. Uncle Geralt was just a late addition.

“You look just like my Pa,” Astry exclaimed with excitement at the discovery. “You two look just alike. Are you twins?”

Geralt laughed at Astry’s expression. He thought fondly of how Ciri used to look at him the same way when she was Astry’s age. “We trained at the same time but we aren’t twins,” Geralt explained to the now defeated looking Astry.

“But you look just like twins, Uncle Geralt.”

“The pretty boys act just alike,” Lambert exclaimed, “They’re the only two that got tied down by marriage.”

Eskel approached his younger brother, clenching and relaxing his fists as he did so. “I wouldn’t call it being tied down, Lambert. I like to refer to it as finding someone that can put up with me. Someone that loves me for who I really am.” Eskel smiled at Lambert but it was not one of his brotherly ones. “Have you found someone like that?”

“I prefer the freedom of prostitutes, personally.”

“What’s a prostitute?” Astry asked and Stokrotka had taken that as his cue to leave for the library for the night. On any other occasion, Eskel would allow him to sneak off but tonight he had a surprise in store.

“Something that I will explain to you once you’re older,” Eskel avoided the question, guiding Stokrotka back into the room. “Why don’t you go and meet Uncle Geralt?” Eskel addressed his son.

“We met in the courtyard. He seems like a very nice man.” Stokrotka tried to push past Eskel but the older witcher was not budging to the boy who played with ouds as opposed to swords. “Please Pa, I did my niceties. May I please go?”

“Don’t you want to show Uncle Geralt’s husband your new songs?”

Before Stokrotka even knew who Eskel was citing, the lad was shaking his head in a firm no. Your boy did not like to share his work with anyone, whether that be his own mother or his uncle’s husband. It seemed like truly no one was allowed to hear his songs.

“You’re a bard?” Geralt asked curiously with an expression that Stokrotka could not read.

“In training, yes,” Stokrotka stated with his usual practical tone.

“Why don’t you share your lyrics with me? I may know a thing or two about poetry. I traveled with a bard for decades.”

Stokrotka looked at Geralt with skepticism. He peered up at the silver haired witcher and both you and Eskel knew what was about to happen. You could practically see Stokrotka’s mouth quiver with his need. “I mean this in the lowest form of offense but I don’t think just any traveling bard is able to compare to the teachings of the greatest bard on the continent. Ma gifted me with a print of Jaskier’s book years ago and his genius is simply unmatched. I know my songs need work just as nothing is truly perfect, however, I prefer to work alone as opposed to in pairs. Thank you for your offer, dear uncle, but I must politely decline.”

Stokrotka turned to address you and Eskel. You knew you hid your laughter poorly but the boy did not comment on your red faces. The others in the room were faring only marginally better. Yennefer had to silently threaten to ban Ciri from the room if she did not at least try to hide her crackle. Stokrotka ignored everyone and spoke in the voice of a begrudging diplomat. “If my parents deem it acceptable I will like to retire to the library where I will hopefully be uninterrupted. Is this arrangement agreeable with everyone?”

“You’re retiring already?” came a voice from behind Stokrotka. “I would have liked to at least read your song book if you were not ready to perform them. I love seeing the work of budding new artisans.”

Stokrotka shifted on his heel once more to reiterate his statement to the newcomer but for once, he was rendered speechless. The man in front of Stokrotka was the spitting image of the sketch of the continent's most famous bard, a sketch that Stokrotka kept in his oud case among his most prized possessions. His cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw were just as the sketch and tales had told of. They were perhaps more beautiful in person.

Stokrotka stood with his mouth agape.

“May I have the honor of seeing your work?” Jaskier asked the boy kindly.

“Y-yes, of course, Jask—I mean sir. Yes, sir. Wait right here. Let me bring you my book and my oud.” With that Stokrotka rushed off to the library and the hall erupted into howls. The whole room shook with the combined laughter of witchers, mage, and man. Only Jaskier stood without a lively roar.

“Laugh all you may want but that boy is among the politer of the bards in training that I have met.” Jaskier pulled you and Eskel into a warm embrace. He greeted you and you greeted him properly in turn. Astry wanted in on the affection and he honored her request in kind. Jaskier looked to you and Eskel and said, “You two have raised good children.” You knew he meant every word of it too.

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