#geralt x witch!reader

[caffieneaddictt18]

Of Hearts and Swords

Premise: Reader drives Geralt crazy. Good crazy. He is drunk on the love they share and is completely and utterly infatuated with her. He would do anything for her. The moment she asks him for anything, to getting bread from the market to killing a man, he will do it for her. Anything for his she-wolf.

Playlist is by harleycao here on Tumblr

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4F3ldBxx0Da1SPlcmgu61H?si=9zbz8tnlQYaLXZWb8IWbLg

As you, Geralt, Jaskier and Ciri make your way to the next town, you start to notice Ciri growing tired and falling behind.

"Ciri!" You stop and beckon the girl over. Ciri stops and looks at you before running to you and your stallion, Orpheus, a gift from Geralt.

"Is something wrong?" Ciri looks concerned. Her hand rests on the hilt of her sword and a stony look starts to set into her eyes.

"Nope. Just figured you would want to ride Orpheus," You say and slide down for Ciri to mount him, "so hop on." You try to help Ciri get onto the saddle but fail, as she is now a strong young lady.

You turn to Geralt, who you see is also stopped and staring at you, making sure you are okay. "Geralt, dear, will you please help Ciri into the saddle?" You politely ask your husband.

Geralt, as though he had already heard your question before you said it, got off of Roach and quickly got to you, gently laying his hand on your hip. "Of course, darling."

Geralt, as a Witcher, does not take much effort to do anything except kill monsters, so lifting Ciri is like holding a couple of grapes.

However, he knows you... He knows you watch him. He knows you like to admire your husband... And he will gladly appease. So, even if Ciri feels as light as a feather, he flexes his arms while lifting her and making it look effortless.

As he situates Ciri on the saddle, he glances at you to see you watching him in rapture with a flush on your cheeks. He smirks while finishing strapping her into saddle.

Once he is done, he gives you a look of burning passion and struts toward you before scooping you up in a tight hold before sitting you on Roach. "Are you stable?"

You reach out and place a gentle hand on his cheek, "I am very stable, my darling. Thank you."

Geralt takes your hand and gently kisses it, before taking Roach's reins and leading the way to the nearest town. ______________________________________________________________

As Geralt leads the group into the market, with you perched on his horse, he can't help but think of a time where you two met. It seemed to happen not so long ago...

Geralt was hired as a king's escort for a war. Another stupid war... but it's good money.

Not nearly good enough for some of the shit he does for these bastards but good enough..

"Geralt!" A king beckons the man with white hair over. Geralt trudges over. "Our war advisor will be coming today to assist. If you have any questions or need anything, she is the one to ask." The old king claps Geralt on his shoulder.

She? Who could this 'she' be? He has never heard of a woman war advisor.

Then the clopping of hooves fell upon his ears. Geralt turns around, prepared for a fight, just to let his hand fall from his sword.

A woman was riding this horse. A horse of pure-blooded war and terror, but a soul of harmony and immenseness sits upon it.

A woman... bearing a symbol of a star encircled in a ring of metal, carrying two swords on her back and in a suit of armor seemingly not from this sphere. Her armor was a cloth, but it seemed to be threaded with a strong fiber-like metal.

As she approached, Geralt could see where else the encircled star was branded upon her, as if she owned the symbol. On her swords, the symbol was on the hilts. All her jewelry carried the symbol. It seemed to hang around her as much as she seemed to own it.

"Lord Lokinafir, I apologize for my tardiness. I was scoping out the lay of the land to get a better understanding of our situation." The woman dismounted from her horse and strode confidently towards the king. She bowed with a slight curtsy, resting her balance on the tips of her toes behind her.

"Of course, War Advisor. Would you like a map to draw out the lay of the land?" The king seemed to be eating out of her hand, even kissing her hand politely. He didn't even bother with the inappropriate flirting.

"No need, sire. I have something better." The woman smirked and waved her hand. A map of the land, complete with actual ridges and hills, spread out upon all of them. On each side of the map were the two armies, colored in red and white while the map was colored green.

"Soldiers!" Her voice seemed to boom and call attention to the mass of men, all with pent up testosterone and a thirst for blood, "Come!"

Her voice beckoned them to come surround the map and pay attention, even through the red haze of blood thirst. "This is the land we are fighting on. While we are at a slight disadvantage because of their size of army, we have the advantage of the land. That is all we need for a great offense. And the best offense comes with a greater defense." The map spun right in front of Geralt eyes and he faintly saw the symbol again on her palm and under the map before it faded to almost nothing. When he looked at it again, the land had changed. Their side was filled with rocks and had fallen at the opposing army's feet.

"While they stumble over themselves trying to climb out of the rocky terrain they will face, we come over our side of the hill and lie in wait with our swords pointed towards them..." The map changed again. The red soldiers had climbed over each other and finally over the rocks, while the white army laid in wait just at the middle to the bottom of the hill holding their spears towards the slope, "they run and with their momentum, impale themselves!" Suddenly, some of the reds started charging down the hill while the whites ran through the red soldiers with their spears, backed by other white soldiers to prevent themselves from falling and hurting anyone else.

"While they stall at the top of the hill, unsure of where to go, we volley them with catapults and mortars. Archers, this is where you are needed." People from the top of the hill the white soldiers have to climb over are catapults and mortars being fired off, killing most of the red soldiers. Archers back the mortar and catapults up, at least injuring the rest, causing a pitiful retreat from the red soldiers.

As she dissolves the map, Geralt knew...

He had to get to know you. ______________________________________________________________

You look back upon Jaskier, who mounted your horse once you also noticed him limping from blisters on the backs of his heels, and Ciri, hoping nothing has gone wrong. As far as you can tell, everything seems to be fine.

This immensely pleased you.

You looked upon your husband, dutifully scanning for any threat to your little family and leading the way.

"Geralt." You get the Witcher's attention as he still guides Roach and in turn guides Ciri, who is riding Orpheus. "Would you like to join me on Roach?"

"Do you want me there?" A deep, soft and gruff voice permeates the air and settles deep in your chest.

You take in a deep breath and nod, seeing a flash of yellow; knowing he is watching you. Your reaction. Your responses.

Geralt swiftly made his way to the saddle and mounted gracefully, with you still in the front, but now he has taken the reins.

On the ride to the town, Ciri asks Jaskier, "So... how did they meet?"

"Why are you asking me?" Jaskier questions Ciri. The girl is like a daughter to Geralt and Y/N. They'll tell her, anyways.

"You know everything about Geralt, don't you? You're the bard." Ciri accentuates, desperate for answers, tries to fluff Jaskier's feathers and get him to tell her.

Jaskier, feeling his ego grow, smirks and says, "You want to know how it goes? Fine." Her acts all perturbed at her poking but really is excited to tell a story.

"During a battle that no one has heard of, she showed up like a goddess riding on the wind. Geralt was immediately enraptured by her...

______________________________________________________________

"You're a mage." Geralt bluntly remarks, walking up the woman preparing her steed for battle.

She pauses. "Yes. And what of it?" The woman resumes brushing her horse.

"Well why not be safely in a castle? Tending to a king and being an advisor?" Geralt, not understanding the complexity of mages, asks.

"It wasn't for me. Besides, this is better money." The woman smiles and moves towards the head of her horse.

"You wouldn't need money if you were a mage for a king. What do you mean 'better money'?" Geralt is so confused. Why would she get paid? Are mages paid? Are some unpaid?

"I mean 'better money'. Mages do get paid, but it is typically a little amount because it is expected of them to live in the castle with the king and for the king to care for their mage, like a pet." The woman spat out the word 'pet' like it was sour.

"Ok... So if you didn't want to become a mage, why didn't you become a town healer? It's safer than this will ever be." Geralt rolls his eyes, not understanding this womans logic.

"Town's still get trampled over, plus as a mage, I could be chased out of town despite being there with all good intentions and purpose;" The woman looks longingly out at the soon-to-be battlefield, "War never goes out of style. After all..." Y/N looks dead into Geralt's yellow eyes, causing him to shiver, "everybody wants to rule the world."

______________________________________________________________

...and that day, she won the battle. Her horse died as a result, but Geralt offered for her to travel with him. He used the excuse of strategy, but he really just had developing feelings for her and didn't know how to express them. A few months later, Geralt had saved enough money from constantly killing monsters and bought her Orpheus. They kind of became a couple over time, and without notice. She has Geralt wrapped around her finger, and he would do anything for her." Jaskier finished his story, just glad he remembered the important bits.

"That's it?!" Ciri almost shouted. Jaskier was quick to shush her.

"Ciri, dear, are you okay?" Ciri could hear Y/N call from Roach. Geralt was glancing over his shoulder at the two, like he knew something was going on.

Jaskier gave Ciri a look before taking his hand away from her mouth, but not before she licked his hand, causing the bard to cringe at the ickiness. Geralt smirked at the scene.

"Just fine, Y/N! Jaskier is just telling me stories about you and Geralt." Ciri elbows the bard. 'Well played, kid.' Jaskier gives Ciri's under-the-bus throw a thought before smiling and agreeing.

"Which stories? We have lots~" Y/N's smirk can be heard from her voice.

"Just on how you two met. But I'm pretty sure he butchered it a bit, so can we trade, and you can tell me stories about you and Geralt?" Ciri smirks, looking at Jaskier. She knows Geralt would never let Jaskier even touch Roach.

"Are you okay with that, Darling?" Y/n leans into Geralt's firm chest, a feeling he secretly loves and will never tell anyone.

It is, however, apparent, as there was one time Jaskier tried to do a dance thing and fell into Geralt as to which the Witcher promptly stood the man on his feet.

A woman on the street once shoved Y/N out of the way to get to Geralt, and 'tripped', subsequently leading to her falling onto Geralt's chest. He swiftly moved to catch Y/N while pushing the woman away. Geralt didn't let Y/N walk anymore that day. Said that 'the hazard of tripping was too high'. Really, he just wanted to feel her against him.

Geralt looks at her and nods, knowing full well that he won't let Jaskier get on Roach. "Do it quick. We are losing daylight." Geralt said as he slows and pulls Roach to a stop.

Geralt hops off first and assists Y/N, helping her get off Roach and on Orpheus. Jaskier was quick to jump off Orpheus to avoid accidentally getting pushed off by Y/N.

As Y/N settled into Orpheus, Geralt strapped her in to make sure she fall off. Once he was content with it, he looked at her. "Thank you, my Darling." Y/N puts a soft hand to his face and gently thumbs his cheek.

Geralt smiles softly before heading back to Roach and giving Jaskier a glare when the bard tries to mount Roach. Jaskier purses his lips and backs off, submitting to his fate of walking.

"Can you tell me the story of how you and Geralt met?" Ciri, eyes shining in anticipation of heroic stories and funny tales of her father figure.

"Well, honey-girl, once upon a time..." Y/N's voice fades into the distance, away from the ears of squirrels and birds. Where the trees part and give way to civilization. "Seems we were closer than we thought." Y/N shrugs and gets off Orpheus, leading the stallion to the closest inn. "Maybe another time, dear." Y/N helps Ciri down and kisses her head softly before following Geralt into the inn for three rooms.

______________________________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

So... tell me what y'all think. Even if you think it's bad, tell me what you did or didn't like. But for every bad there must be a good. please.my fragile heart cant handle it.

Have a great night/day!

#caffies #x reader #witchcraft #witches #witch reader #pagan!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x witch!reader #hecate #magick #magic #witch #occult #the witcher

[witchthewriter]

𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!   

a/n: I watched the new season of The Witcher and somehow Geralt got even hotter??? Anyway, he has dilf energy and I'm in love

Warnings: family abuse, curse previously put on reader

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

・He had saved you, and yet, your family still did not want you.

・Geralt found out that it was your own father who cursed you

・A noble family that saw you as less than. And they banished you from their land, not wanting you anywhere near them.

・And when Geralt spoke on your behalf, asking what you were supposed to do, your father shrugged his shoulders and ignored the Witcher.

"You won't even keep y/n on as ... as anything?" The Witcher was disgusted when your father kept on ignoring him. It got to the point where Geralt threw a golden plate just above your father's head and his attention snapped to the white-haired man.

"I could have your head for that." Your father's voice was cold, it was always cold.

"And I could have yours," snarled Geralt, whose eyes were ablaze. But he knew he couldn't do anything about your family. Only about you.

・So, Geralt couldn't leave you to fend for yourself. And he didn't.

・Besides, you had no idea how to look after yourself. You had been a monster, trapped inside a form that was not yours for 7 years

・You were filthy, tired, and utterly defenseless.

・And even though Witcher's weren't known for their grace nor kindness, Geralt was different.

・He took you with him, damning your family for casting you out. Promising that you would rise above what they had done to you.

・But for now, he had to clean you up and ... catch you up on life.

- ✦ -

・Geralt sat you in front of him, Roach slightly grumpy with the extra weight. But once you reached Geralt's destination, he rewarded the steed with extra food

"Thank you, old friend," he whispered into the horses' ear.

・Helping you inside, he had arranged a room that had a bathing chamber

・The water ran hot as Geralt added in oils and different kinds of herbs

・It was an odd situation, yes, helping a stranger clean themselves.

・But Geralt couldn't live with the knowledge of you being left on your own. The possibility of so much danger. Of being taken advantage of.

・Helping you undress was slightly embarrassing, for the both of you. Your body was still getting used to its original form. Your balance was off, and your posture wasn’t very good. Geralt had to keep on correcting it.

・Easing you into the bath, he grabbed a cloth and started gently rubbing the grime from your body. The dirt, sweat and mud that caked your body

・Even when you transformed back into your normal form, the dirt still remained, as did the torn clothes that you had worn before being cursed into a great beast

・Speaking was difficult as well, but it was becoming easier with time. Even though not much had passed.

・The bath was the best thing you had felt in 7 whole goddamn years.

・Hot; like it was ridding you of all the hurt that built over time

・You swished your fingers through the water, delighting in the ripples they made. Such a small happiness. Yet you found glee in small things now. Grateful for a second chance.

・Geralt kept on scrubbing at your skin, using a bristled brush on some areas, careful not to be too rough or stay in one spot for too long

・Next he used this delicious smelling soap. Your knowledge of herbs was next to nothing, due to a lack in education, but you thought it smelt homely, earthly and calming. Lathering it in his hands and massaging it onto your own, you both worked the soap into different areas of your skin

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” he said. Voice soft yet still rough, like he wasn’t used to being kind to others. If that were true, you wondered why he was doing this for you.

“But first we need to brush it,” his eyes squinted at the tangled mess but started on it nonetheless.

・It hurt at first, but you knew Geralt was being as gentle as he could be, but there were so many knots.

“What do you think about cutting it?” You shook your head. Your hair was one of the only things that made you feel … beautiful.

“Ugh, fine. But this is going to take a while.”

・You shrugged your shoulders and happily kept on sitting in the tub, taking over some of the scrubbing, especially your feet, which felt so sensitive.

・Once they were large and clawed, now … they were human

・Your eyes stilled as the water reflected the glow of the candles around the room

・And you sighed. Not in sadness, or pain, or grief. But with the knowledge that you no longer had to be someone that you were not. Whether that was a beast or playing a role in your family that you didn’t want to have to play.

“You alright?” Geralt had made significant process, practically finished with your hair. And he grabbed a bucket and told you to lean back as he poured the water onto your hair.

・Geralt grabbed a different kind of soap and placed it in your hair, massaging and rubbing it, making sure there wasn’t a spot unwashed.

・You weren’t used to the sensation and let out a laugh. It tickled a tiny bit, especially when he rubbed behind your ears

・Unbeknownst to you, Geralt was slightly smiling. He enjoyed seeing you experience some happiness.

・After he had washed your hair a total of three times, he stood back satisfied with your appearance and held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

・Helping you out of the bath, he set down a pair of clean clothes on your bed and said he would be back in a few minutes.

・He wanted to give your privacy, while also wanting to check on Roach.

・The clothes were a big pair of brown pants and a long white shirt. They were a fresh pair from the Innkeeper's husband, who had recently passed away. Geralt had paid extra for them.

・After twenty minutes, Geralt came back into the room to find you asleep on the floor. The usual place you slept.

・A place you had slept for 7 years.

・7 years without a bed. Without a blanket or pillows. Nor were you given any sort of comfort.

・A rage so hot spread through Geralt that it practically radiated off of him.

・In that moment he swore you would have a better life, the best he could find … or give you.

#witch the writer's headcanons #geralt #geralt headcanons #geralt of rivia #geralt has dad energy #geralt x reader #witchthewriter #headcanons #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher #the witcher headcanons #the witcher x you

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice

Word Count: 3,876

Warnings: reader is a brothel worker

Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE

Enjoy!

There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain. 

He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you. 

Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him. 

Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish. 

You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do. 

He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked. 

But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…

Until you burned. 

How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that. 

Now you were gone. 

He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time.  Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain. 

He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract. 

If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers. 

“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke. 

“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to.  “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”

“Her contract-”

“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground. 

That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time. 

Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion. 

But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”

“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”

He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”

-

“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room. 

You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same. 

“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself. 

“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”

“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you. 

A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron. 

Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you. 

There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment. 

He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you. 

“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off. 

You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall. 

“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”

“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?” 

It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing. 

“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out. 

That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry. 

Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish. 

Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you. 

-

“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”

“Bullshit.”

She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.” 

He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern. 

The very same day he had raced over here to see you. 

The day after he had you in his arms. 

The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter. 

He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran. 

Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”

“This is a busin-”

“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”

“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”

“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”

She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!” He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below. 

“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”

All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat. 

“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.” 

“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”

“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”

“I NEED TO -”

“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”

“I want to see her safe.”

“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”

“I have fought countless beasts-”

“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.” 

If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse. 

“Then what do you suggest?”

“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”

- 

Two months in and winter had finally come. 

You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing. 

There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air. 

“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”

“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread. 

“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission. 

You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.

So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”

“Home. To find my sister.” 

“You have a family?” 

“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan. 

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was. 

“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”

“You go first.”

“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill. 

“You must.” 

“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.” 

“Y/n-”

“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”

“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her. 

“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”

“What should I say to him if I must find him?”

“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.” 

You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window. 

You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge.  You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier. 

But that was unrealistic. 

And you were obviously unwanted.

-

“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own.  “They said that he was here and-”

“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him. 

He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs. 

The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out. 

It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan. 

“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”

“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down. 

The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation. 

“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?” “Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”

“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”

“She didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender. 

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know. 

“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”

You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing. 

You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster. 

Three months into this place had truly broken you. 

Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.

 One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam. 

“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter. 

“Excuse me?”

“I have a room for ye-” 

“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.” 

“Really?”

Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”

“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”

“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”

“What do you want with Y/n?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”

“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room. 

Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in. 

The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone. 

“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”

“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself. 

“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”

“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Now that I can swear on. Come.”

-

Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him. 

Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase. 

They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’. 

Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror. 

Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.

He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”

“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper. 

“What has she done to you…..”

Part 3 on October 30th

@sagelovesreading

@lashipperrubia @freyafriggafrey @cookielovesbook-akie @whatishappeninghere81 @livesinfantasyland @multiifandomhoe @amara-75 @unfxrgetwble @vlynccx @redlovett @yorkeylover @mxtokko @readinggirl29 @mollymal @fullmoonshadowwrites @rileytwenty @glasschampagne @caffieneaddictt18 @kittiowolf210 @purple-blommie @abrunettefangirlnerd @babezawa

#geralt imagine #geralt smut #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt fluff #geralt angst #the witcher smut #witcher fanfiction #the witcher angst #the witcher #witch #henry cavill #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia fanfiction #gearlt #geralt #yennefer #jaskier #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #the witcher season 2 spoilers #the witcher seasonn 1

[scarlet2007]

₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ The Witcher's Witch₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: Being rescued by the Witcher after being accused of being a Witch was the last thing you expected in life. But it looks like kindness can go a long way if shown to the right people.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Mention of murder, beast slaying, taming wild animals, witch hunting, the reader is beaten up and was about to get burned alive.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 3.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The Witcher was finally in town, it was pretty clear from how the people were crowding towards a certain white haired man who stood besides a horse.

The crowd was sneering at the Witcher, calling him names and yelling at him, as if the Witcher was nothing but a mere dirty dog in their eyes. The Mayor of our town finally made an appearance, making the angry people go silent as they all waited for their "king" to speak.

"Ah, Witcher! We have been waiting for your arrival." The mayor chuckled, walking towards the Witcher, who stood tall amongst the crowd, clearly used to the sneering and insults of the people.

"There is an unknown monster lurking in the forest near our town, it had already murdered two people brutally. We need you to take care of the monster." The Mayor spoke as the people continued to glare at the Witcher. Some mothers even went as far as to try and 'shield' their kid from him as if he was the monster that would tear apart their children.

You stood slightly far from the crowd, watching everything occur as you scoffed at the hostility of the people towards the Witcher.

"They are acting as if he can't just kill them all in an instant..." You mumbled, chuckling darkly.

"You better be as good as they say you are, Witcher." Someone hissed, staring at the Witcher in disdain as they tried to stare him down. The Witcher ignored them all as he looked at the Mayor, nodding silently as the Mayor handed him a bag filled with coins.

"Where is the beast?" Asked the Witcher, making you sigh as the people started to talk about the beast all at once. Half of them were made up while the other half were useless.

Finally, the mayor explained everything that they knew about the beast, and where it attacks. You listened intensely, still standing away from the crowd as you stared at the ground in focus.

The Witcher nodded along, before he started to walk in the direction of the forest that was now forbiddened from entering for the safety of the people. You quickly walked in the opposite direction before entering an alley that lead towards the forest as you tried to track down the Witcher.

"Stop following me." A gruff voice said from behind you, making you jump as you turned around to face the dark and tall figure in front of you.

"Oh! It's you..." You sighed in relief, making the Witcher frown.

"Um... Mister... Uh.. sir? Whichever you prefer, I have some information about the beast that might help you." You chuckled nervously, looking around to see if someone was spying on you. You might get in trouble if you were to be seen with the Witcher alone.

"Speak."

You glanced at the Witcher before nodding, "Well... If you think the attack is being done by some sort of animal like a wolf, it's not true. It's not a wolf." You said quickly.

"What makes you think that?"

"W-well-... A wolf was injured because of the said beast and the wounds didn't look like it was from a wolf fight either so..." You mumbled, trying not to act suspicious.

The Witcher stared at you silently. You were acting suspicious and it was evident by the way you talked that you knew more than you told him. The Witcher took a step towards you, making you look up, still standing your ground nervously.

Witcher frowned at your weird behaviour, you were scared but not because of him, but because of something else. Something else was making you nervous.

He opened his mouth to speak before a sudden growl intrupted him, making both of them tense up as he grabbed his sword, stepping in front of you protectively. A wolf stood before them, glaring and growling at the Witcher, ready to pounce.

"Stay back-" The Witcher mumbled was unheard as you stood in front of him, glaring at the wolf.

"Sky!" You hissed, still standing in front of the Witcher. It would've amused him if they weren't in a tense situation. You, a young girl, perhaps in your mid 20s, standing before the Witcher with no weapons, as the Witcher behind you towered you with his height. You looked tiny compared to his frame, both height and muscle wise.

The Witcher felt annoyed at your pathetic attempt to tame a wild wolf, as if the wolf would suddenly transform into a domesticated puppy and obey your every command.

The wolf continued to growl but it slowly started to approach you, the wolf stance becoming slightly relaxed as it stared at you and your hand that was outstretched in front of you. The Witcher looked at the exchange in slight confusion, his expression was still stoic but he felt confused.

"Sky, come on, what did I tell you about jumping in front of guests like a beast? Hmm?" You mumbled as you patted the wolf, the wolf's tail wagging behind him.

"You... Tamed the injured wolf..?" Asked the Witcher, eyeing them warily. It's not everyday that someone saves a wolf, let alone tame them.

"I would prefer 'befriended' and yes, I did. He is a sweetheart. That is also why I wanted to warn you that this wolf is not the beast. Oh! And the beast also does not live here. It lives deeper into the woods, this area is just the edge of the forest. The people... They forgot to mention something important." You glanced at him as you stood up, the wolf standing besides you in his fully height, his black fur and tall height made it look intimidating, the wolf looked strong and but the bandages around his torso also did not go unnoticed by the Witcher, making him believe the story that you told him about patching up a wounded wolf even though it sounded bizarre and made up.

"What is it?"

You bite your lips, looking at the forest, deep in thoughts before finally speaking.

"The town people provoked the beast. Some drunkards wanted to prove to the people that there was no such beast residing in the depths of the woods, so they went ahead despite the warnings and... Well, only their mangled up bodies made it back here. That's why the people think that the beast resides in the edge of the forest and not deep within."

The Witcher's frown, staring at you for a while before speaking.

"They knew that there was a beast?"

You nodded, "The beast is older than most of us, the tales have been circulating amongst the people since past few generations, it can probably be dated back to the generation of our grandparents, something similar happened but this time, the beast is... More angry. It didn't kill people before like it did now, or at least that's what the people say."

The Witcher sighed at your words. This was more work than he intended to do. If the beast was as old as you said it was, then it wouldn't die without putting up a great fight and he was in no position to get into a full-on battle in his tired state.

"Sir..? You look tired, and I doubt the villagers asked you to rest or offered you food, would you..." You trailed off, laughing awkwardly as you stared at the Wolf, Sky, instead of the Witcher as you continued in a quiet manner, "Like something to eat?"

The Witcher froze, not expecting an act of kindness, especially from someone like you. He stared at you suspiciously, thinking that you had ulterior motives to offer him something like that. You looked at him in alarm, as if sensing his chain of thoughts as you waved your hands in front of you. "I don't need anything in return, i promise! It's just... You look tired and hungry."

The Witcher didn't say anything, simply staring at you for a solid minute before nodding his head along with a stoic, "hm."

"Um.. sir? Where did you leave your horse?" You asked suddenly.

"It's outside the woods."

"Ah... You can bring your horse in, this part of the woods is safe and Sky isn't going to hurt your horse, I can assure you that much." You smiled at him, the Wolf still standing guard besides you.

"How do you know it's safe here?" The Witcher rolled his eyes.

"Well... I live here. My cottage is just a few minutes walk away from here."

"You... Live in the middle of the woods?"

"It's the edge and yes, I prefer living here." That made the Witcher frown his eyebrows in confusion as he walked beside you to get his horse.

"Why? Isn't the town safer?"

You stayed silent for a while before chuckling softly. "Perhaps. But I am not too fond of the people there." The Witcher could see why, so he stayed silent and walked towards his horse.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

You provided food and a place for the Witcher to rest, which he found weird and bizarre but didn't complain about. You insisted that the Witcher rest for at least a day before he went to hunt down the beast, saying that it will give him more benefit in battle if he is well rested and fed. The horse, which you learnt was called Roach, was spoiled rotten too. It looked like you had a liking towards animals and insects, finding them adorable and taking care of them and for some reason, animals seem to like you too, even the most wild animals liked you and it was evident with how the wild wolf acted like a domesticated dog in front of you. The food you prepared for the Witcher was amazing, and the spare room was also comfortable enough for the Witcher to sleep in but you insisted that he slept in your room instead, that the spare room wasn't that clean and that you would sleep in the spare room instead. The Witcher tried to decline politely but you were stubborn and he ended up getting the best sleep he ever has in your bed while you slept in the spare room.

Your whole cottage was filled with plants, flowers and books. The plants weren't everywhere but the ones you did have inside were too pretty and went well with your theme. Your cottage had a cozy feeling to it, the aroma of tea and lavender was always present, along with some books lying here and there. It made the cottage feel like a home that the Witcher didn't have.

The Witcher thanked you before venturing off to hunt the beast, giving you a small, awkward smile before leaving. You waved enthusiastically at him, wishing him luck before rushing after Sky, who has decided to run after a rabbit.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

When the Witcher came back, the cottage was a mess, making him frown as he couldn't find you or Sky. It looked like you left somewhere in a hurry as there was still uncooked food on the table, half done and some books were scattered on the ground.

The Witcher went towards the town, the head of the beast was hanging from his hand. The battle against the beast wasn't easy, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

The town was filled with commotion, people gathering around a tall tree, yelling at something or rather, someone.

As he walked closer, he could hear what they were saying clearly.

"Burn the Witch! Burn her! She was the one who brought the beast to the town!" Someone yelled venomously, making the Witcher frown his eyebrows as he walked towards the crowd. The Mayor took immediate notice of his presence as the people stopped yelling.

"Ah! Witcher! You are back and you brought the beast's head with you." The Witcher paid the Mayor zero attention as he stared at the scene in front of him. Someone was bounded to the tree with thick ropes, blood pooling underneath them as it dropped from the wound on their arm. It looked like a young girl, which made the Witcher slightly nervous. He couldn't see her face, as her head was down, her hair covering her face. The only thing that made it evident that she was alive was the quick motion of her chest falling up and down as she breath heavily.

The Mayor, displeased with the Witcher's ignorance towards his words, turned his attention to the girl instead. He stepped closer to the girl and gripped her hair, making her wince as he forced her to look up.

Witcher's breath hitched as he saw your pained face, staring directly at him before looking at the Mayor in fear.

"The beast you called upon is long dead now, Witch. You have no one to save you now." The Mayor hissed, staring at your face as he continued to hold your hair in a tight grip, making you wince.

You were already weak from the beatings and the lack of food, your head throbbing painfully under the harsh Sun. You were dehydrated, hungry, wounded and scared.  Oh, you were so so scared.

A lot has happened in the span of just four days after your last meeting with the Witcher.

You flinched when someone threw another stone at you again, wincing at the sharp pain that erupted from your temple, where the stone landed, making it bleed.

You couldn't even look at the Witcher, humiliation filled your body as you stared at the ground, willing yourself to not cry. You have yet to let the tears flow and you want to keep it that way. You want to keep some of your dignity, if there was even any left.

"What's going on?" You closed your eyes as you heard Witcher ask the Mayor. You didn't want him to think that you were someone evil, but you weren't sure if the Witcher will believe you over the Mayor's word or the people's word. You just silently hoped that they won't answer his question but your hopes died quickly as the Mayor began to tell him what happened.

"This girl, this witch, is the one that unleashed the very beast you hold in your hands. She was seen with a wolf, commanding him to attack innocents! She can put animals and beasts under her spell, making them do whatever she please." The Mayor spit out, glaring at you as you kept your eyes closed and your head low.

"Just look at her! She has been punished but she has yet to utter a word of apology or even a tear in remorse! She is a threat to the town and the people!"

"Burn her!"

"Kill her!"

Were the words that followed soon after the Mayor stopped talking, making the Witcher step in front of you protectively, just like how he did before when he saw Sky as a threat.

"Witcher, what are you doing?!" The Mayor fumed, staring at the Witcher in anger and annoyance.

"Keep your hands away from the girl." He said quietly, his sword already out, the beast's head thrown somewhere on the ground. No one dared to put up a fight against the Witcher, everyone was too cowardly to try and fight him.

"The Witch has put you under a spell too, Witcher!" The Mayor exclaimed as the people started to insult both of you.

You whimpered, staring at the people and the Witcher in fear.

"What good will it do to you even if you safe her? She is a damned witch that should rot in hell for her crimes!" The people agreed, trying to step closer to her before the Witcher pointed his sword towards them, making them step back in fear.

"I will keep her."

That made the whole town silent as you stared at the Witcher in confusion and shock.

He couldn't let them kill you, not when you were the only one that treated him like a human and showed him kindness, it pained him to see you in such a state and he will not let you get harmed. You took care of him, and it was now his turn to do so.

He gripped his sword tightly, glaring at whoever dared to step towards them.

"Give me the girl." He hissed, his gaze making everyone scared, some even rushing away to their home to not face his wrath.

The air was tense, people stared at you and the Witcher with scared and disgusted expression while the Mayor was deep in thought. The town was known for its cowardly people and after watching the Witcher walk with the head of a beast in his hand, nobody wanted to fight him.

"What will we get in return if we let the girl go unpunished?" The Mayor asked, smirking as he stared at the Witcher.

"You can keep your coins." He grumbled, throwing the pouch of coins towards the Mayor that he got as a payment when he first came here to slay the beast.

The Mayor checked the pouch before letting them go, commanding people to go inside their houses as they rushed away.

"You are lucky, or else today would've been your last day, witch." The mayor muttered venomously before leaving them be.

You flinched when Witcher's blade cut throw the thick ropes, all at once as you stumbled forward. He caught you, making you wince as it made you put some pressure on your wounds. The Witcher carried you towards your cottage, but not before the Mayor warned them that they had to leave before noon, and if they failed to do so, they will both be punished and killed. The threat made you tense, as you tried to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he walked you towards your cottage.

"Where's sky?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

"I made him leave. The... The people saw him and they would've hunted him down or hurt him..." You mumbled, sniffling a bit as he sat you down on your bed.

He nodded in understanding, before cleaning yours wounds.

"You should go wash yourself and pack." You glanced at him, wondering what he meant by 'pack'.

"We need to leave. Make sure to only pack the necessary things like clothes and some food." He muttered, staring at you.

You looked scared, and timided, not like the lively girl he met that day that took care of him. It made his heart clench painfully for some reason.

"Oh... A-are you... Taking me in?" You asked slowly, stuttering a bit.

He nodded silently, walking out of your room to let you bath and change. Your voice suddenly made him stop.

"You... You can use the bathroom in the spare room to freshen up too!" He smiled a bit as he heard you, making his way towards the spare room.

After you were done packing and ready to leave, you both stood in front of the Mayor at the gate of the town, you stood behind Witcher, trying to hide from anyone's view, the Mayor stared at you both as you began to walk away from the town, making sure that you both were out of the town.

After walking beside Witcher and Roach, you glanced at him as you handed him a pouch with gold coins.

"U-um... I know what you did for me can never be paid by coins, but... I still want to thank you and repay you for saving me and giving up the coins you got as a payment." You mumbled quietly.

"Keep them." He grumbled, walking towards you.

"Do you know how to get on a horse?" You shook your head, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while doing so.

"Let me help you." You nodded as he grabbed your waist gently, trying to avoid any wounds as he helped you on the horse. It made your heart beat quicken with how close you both were.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Geralt." You looked at him in confusion.

"My name is Geralt, just call me by my name."

You stared at him in shock before smiling wildly, "Okay, Geralt!"

And for some reason, Geralt loved the way you said his name.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher netflix #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of river x reader #henry cavill #henry cavil x reader #witch #the witcher fluff #yennifer #jaskier #the witcher imagine #geralt imagine #geralt of rivera #witcher 3 #henry cavil x y/n #witcher x reader #fanfic #witcher fandom #geralt fanfic #scarlet2007

[anamariee86]

Reading 8 fanfics from 5 different fandoms is a different level of multitasking. Fun but definitely confusing , coz I've mixed up the plots so much to the point i'm convinced I made a whole fuckin multiverse.

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x female reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia imagine

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

welcome to the land of fairytales, where desires you never knew you had will come true. thank you @georgiapeach30513 & @royalsweetteaa for helping me with this.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate my work. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

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𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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!warning! these fics will include inter-species relations, size differences, innocent kink, age gaps and dark content.

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𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 - pairing: prince ransom drysdale x princess reader

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𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 - pairing: prince frank adler x mermaid reader

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𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 - pairing: street rat lloyd hansen x princess reader

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 - pairing: prince lance tucker x maid reader

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔 - pairing: beast ari levinson, beast logan howlett, beast geralt of rivia x princess reader

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𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏 - pairing: bossy clark kent, sleazy johnny storm, dirty curtis everett, brawny steve rogers, cranky bucky barnes, tipsy dean winchester, horny sam wilson x witch/princess reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒃𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒆 - pairing: hunter lee bodecker x shifter reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 - pairing: mad hatter jefferson x dreamer reader 

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒆 - pairing: scarecrow jake wyler, tin-man rick grimes, cowardly lion jake jensen, oz andy barber x lost reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: hansel steve kemp, male gretel nick fowler x witch reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 - pairing: big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 - pairing: tarzan tangerine x jane reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 - pairing: giant august walker x female jack reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 - pairing: captain hook negan, captain hook jack sparrow x tinkerbell reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - pairing: alpha bear ari levinson, alpha bear henry cavill, alpha bear lee bodecker x goldilocks reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏 - pairing: prince steve rogers x princess/swan hybrid reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒐𝒉, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔… 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒔 - pairing: mermaid jennifer check, mermaid rosalie hale, mermaid jane smith x clueless reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 - pairing: mufasa ari levinson x scar sergei kravinoff (kraven the hunter) x lioness reader

೫˚🕊️❀ *ૢ🍄೫˚🎀

#imyourbratzdollwork #a whores fairytale #chris evans fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #luke danes fanfiction #negan fanfiction #captain jack sparrow fanfiction #jennifer check fanfiction #rosalie hale fanfiction #jane smith fanfiction #tangerine fanfiction #kraven the hunter fanfiction #sergei kravinoff fanfiction

[sailorkamino]

sheltered

relatonships: geraskier x magic!reader [tangled au]

word count: 1.8k

summary: your village believed you to be born cursed and would have killed you, if not for stragobor. you've spent your whole life locked away in a tower but now you've got a chance for freedom in the form of a bard, a witcher, and an pretty horse.

warnings: stragobor, emotionally abusive parent, gaslighting, anti witcher prejudice, death/murder, pre relationship, emotional support dogs

a/n: my first time writing for the witcher! what do you think? i might turn this into a series <3

Spring is coming so you’re making new outfits for your beloved hounds. Which isn’t at all depressing no matter what that one judgemental bird thinks. Anyways you’re using golden yellow fabric for Honeysuckle and cool blue for Periwinkle. As is customary.

Then you sense them. Strangers. You become almost dizzy with fear and excitement. A type of desperation only experienced when you live in a forced solitude. You make your way to the window, desperate for a glance. It’s not like they’ll be able to see you. Your entire tower is invisible to outsiders.

“Hey, look at this tower.”

You choke on air. Your dogs leap from your bed to check on you (still in their winter sweaters.) You hold your breath as two people and a horse step into the clearing. Then you meet yellow cat-like eyes and you’re diving to the floor with a startled noise.

“Careful. Magic.”

One of them is mumbling but it’s drowned out by the sound of your rapid heart. Honeysuckle whines in concern, licking your face. Periwinkle takes a protective stance over both of you, growling out the window.

Father has always told you witchers are bloodthirsty savages. They’ll kill any innocent being for a profit. They know no morals, only violence. When you were born under a black sun your religious village wanted you dead. Father hid you away for protection. You’re not looking to relieve the witch hunt experience.

You mentally poke at the witcher, feeling out his aura. He doesn’t seem particularly beastly. Animals tend to be more shallow than people, all instincts and simple emotions. Surprisingly he doesn’t feel that.

A part of you has always questioned your father's prejudice. You stopped voicing it but the concerns remained. Father hates witchers because they kill beasts. If monsters can be good, why can’t witchers? An old argument resurfaces in your memory.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said, child?” Father asks angrily. “You cry when a rat dies yet defend butchers.” You look away, embarrassed by his mocking tone.

“This is why you stay in this tower. You’re too naïve for the outside world.”

You wonder if that’s the real reason he keeps you locked away. You’re capable of defending yourself now. So is he really protecting you? Or is he protecting the world? All because you were born under a black sun. Why must you be punished for being different? Why must witchers?

You think of the villagers who looked at a crying orphan and saw a threat. Who saw killing an infant as a lesser evil. You don’t want to be like that. Privately you wonder why your mentor sees compassion as a weakness but you’ve learnt it’s better to agree with him. “Yes father. I’m sorry.”

“No need to fear us. I’m Jaskier the bard, master of the seven liberal arts, and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Could you give us directions to the nearest town?” The colorful man calls out.

Your heart races until you feel dizzy. So this is the butcher. The most beastly and cruel of all the witchers. He’s… underwhelming to say the least. Certainly least nightmarish and more dreamy than you imagined. But you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. You take a calming breath, petting your hounds to ground yourself.

The primal fear inside of you is wrestling with your desire for a real life conversation with a stranger. This could be your chance to hear both sides of what happened in Blaviken. Father always says you’re too naïve but only tells you his point of view. You’re almost sick with nerves when you blurt out rather loudly, “I wouldn't know. I’ve never been in the forest before.”

There’s a long pause and you can sense confusion. Have you already messed up? You don't want them to leave. Well the witcher can go, but the colorful one seems nice. You pop your head back into view, “I don’t leave my tower. I’m sorry. I… like your horse.” Compliments make you friends right?

“Don’t leave or can’t?” A much gruffer voice asks. You shiver. (He didn’t even say thank you for the compliment, how rude.)

“I’m safe here.” The words sound unconvincing to your own ears. You tell yourself it's because of fear. Not because you’re beginning to question them.

“Who says?”

“My father.”

They share a concerned look. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It sounds quite childish when you say it out loud. But you’ve been persecuted before, you aren’t about to let your guard down around a hired killer. So… why are you still talking to him?

Then you notice the brunet���s instrument. What a lovely change of subject. “Is that a lute?”

“It is!”

You’re practically jumping now. Honeysuckle, picking up on your excitement, smacks you with her wagging tail. “I’ve never heard a bard before! Play me something?”

Jaskier goes impossibly sad. You frown, hating the kicked puppy expression. What did you do wrong? Maybe you should just stick to socializing with animals. At least the rats find you charming.

“You’ve never heard music, my dear?”

Your face goes hot, both at the endearment and the pity in his voice. “I have lots of instruments but I don’t think I’m very good. Being self taught and all.”

“Why don’t I come up and give you a lesson? Free of charge!”

Your stomach twists in knots. You don’t know what’s more terrifying. Your new friend coming inside or leaving you to loneliness. You avoid eye contact when you answer. “My father wouldn’t like that.”

“What would you like?” The witcher asks sternly. You freeze. No one has ever cared what you wanted before. Is that concern you sense from him? Sympathy? From a so-called beast? Your silence seems like an answer enough. “So can’t leave,” he concludes.

“Can others enter?” Jaskier asks curiously.

You don’t know why you answer but you do. “Only with a portal. There’s no door.”

“But there’s a window.”

You frown. Obviously there’s a window, you’re talking out of it right now. Maybe your new friend is a little slow.

“Rope?” he proposes to the witcher.

Your mouth drops open. A rope? That’s it? Years of isolation by a warlock solved with a fucking rope? It can’t be that simple. It just can’t be. “My father is very powerful,” you warn. “And he hates witchers.”

“Him and most of the continent,” the man grumbles dryly. For some reason you feel guilty. Years of indoctrination to hate his kind, forgotten in mere minutes. Maybe you really are naïve.

“Who’s your father, dear? Maybe we know him?”

You sincerely hope not. “Stregobor.”

Dead silence. Then a very empathetic “fuck.”

Your stomach sinks. That’s the most emotion you’ve heard in the witcher’s voice so far and it doesn't sound good. Will they judge you for your fathers deeds? Wait, why are you assuming your father’s in the wrong? Since when did he become the bad guy? (Maybe he always has been but you’ve ignored it.)

“Let me guess, you were born during a black sun?” He asks flatly.

You feel as if a rug has been pulled out from under you. The comfort that’s been growing disappears, replaced with icy fear. You don’t even know this man yet you still feel betrayed. “Are you here to kill me?” You ask, slightly wobbly.

He sighs tiredly. Maybe he gets asked that a lot. “No. You aren’t fucking cursed. You were born during an eclipse. A completely natural phenomenon. A bunch of old bastards made up that curse for power and control.”

Your jaw drops, conflicting emotions raging inside of you. If he’s right you’re not cursed, which is great. But it also means your father has betrayed you. Your whole life can’t be a lie. It just can’t. A sinking part of you knows he’s making sense, even wants to believe him, but you desperately ignore it.

“I hurt people,” you confess abruptly.

“I thought you never left this tower?” Jaskier asks.

“When I was a baby.”

The witcher raises an unimpressed brow. “Did Stregobor tell you that?”

You growl in frustration as a strong wind rustles the trees. Jaskier looks around in bewilderment but the witcher holds your steady gaze. Not easily frightened by your show of power or glowing eyes.

“I’ve met a lot of monsters. You’re not one.”

The words you’ve always longed to hear. Uttered by the man you’ve been taught to hate. You take a moment to collect your flurry of emotions before answering. “Funny,” you smile weakly, “I was gonna say the same thing about you, witcher.”

You steady yourself before asking the next question. Knowing it won’t be easy but needing answers. The more you talk to Geralt the more you question what you’ve been taught about witchers. Maybe you don’t want him to be a monster. Maybe you’re so lonely you don’t care if he is.

“Tell me about Blaviken.”

“What?” His voice is somehow gruffer. Face horribly blank and posture rigid.

“Every story has two sides, yet I’ve only heard my father’s.”

He sighs deeply. Then begins. He tells you about Renfri. A princess born under the black sun. Her step mother was looking for a way to get rid of her and the curse was convenient. Stregobor agreed the girl was an evil mutant that must be isolated but her step mother wanted her dead. Together they ruined her life.

Renfri evaded them. She spent years being hunted, until she became the hunter. Eventually she formed a gang of sorts and tracked Stregobor to Blaviken but couldn’t enter his tower. (Apparently the idea of living in a tower forever was very distressing to your father. You don't know if you should laugh or vomit.)

Both Renfri and Stregobor asked Geralt to kill the other but he refused, not wanting to get involved. Although he hated Stregobor he tried to talk the princess out of revenge. It was too late. She threatened to kill townspeople until the warlock came out.

Your heart sinks at the ultimatum. Your father has never been a compassionate man. By the grim look on the witcher’s face he knew it too. In the end Geralt did what Stregobor wanted him to do. Instead of payment or thanks he was branded a butcher.

The fear-shame-grief rolling off of the witcher (definitely not emotionless by the way) is enough to make your eyes sting. Your gaze settles on Jaskier, who’s gone into full sad puppy mode. You have a feeling he’s never heard the full story either. You clear your choked throat.

“You mentioned a rope, good sir?”

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier x reader #geraskeir #geraskier x reader #geralt x jaskier #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #jaskier x reader

[talesof-old]

the light you gave me | g.r.

pairing: geralt of rivia x reader

warning(s): 18+, rough (ish?) sex, possibly ooc geralt, sex in the woods, unprotected sex, geralt needs better coping skills lmao, reader has a vagina and he calls reader witch and sweet girl, geralt tackles reader in the woods?, severely unedited and not proofread at all, i think i might actually rewrite this/add more once i get my shit together

word count: 1.6k

kinktober series

geralt saved you from a life that would’ve killed you, so if he wants a chase on occasion, you’re happy to give it to him

prompt: primal, rough sex/outdoor sex

masterlist

You paused, listening as the forest around you silenced. Your heart thundered in your chest, a plea to finally slow down. Something sounded from your right and you bolted, chest heaving as you wove through trees. Geralt had given you a knife, and it rested snug on your hip, a small solace given what monsters may lurk in this wood.

You panted, spotting your makeshift camp in a clearing. You’d been circling the site for at least thirty minutes, drawing Geralt out. It wasn’t too often that he got so riled up from a hunt that he needed to take his energy out on something other than a monster. Today, however, the monster found him first. You still weren’t entirely sure what it even was, but it had come out of nowhere as the two of you were traveling. You’d been knocked off your horse and thrown across the road, thankfully entirely uninjured except for a few nasty bruises on your back and arms. Geralt had yelled for you to stay down and drew the monster away.

By the time he’d come back to you, whatever elixir he had taken was still coursing through him, his eyes dark as night with spiderwebs of black reaching out across his face. The magic of elixirs was not lost on you. Interest swirled in your gut as you helped him set up camp, but you held back as you noticed his clenched jaw and tense shoulders.

It hadn’t taken long for you to strip your outer layers, stuffing them in a bag to avoid anything getting on them in the night while you slept. Geralt’s eyes followed your every move, and you kept your questioning gaze to yourself. Instead, you simply examined him back. His hair was damp from your forcing him to at least rinse off in the river, and you could see the still healing bruises on his collarbone. His shirt was revealing enough to give you a good view of his chest, and you smiled gently, an idea already forming in your mind. Running from Geralt wasn’t easy. He was fast, and had longer legs than you. Besides that, you were more of the healer type, and running didn’t particularly suit you.

It was after dinner, the few dishes you did use cleaned, dried, and put away before you started enacting the first steps of your plan.

Geralt knew you were up to something, saw the mischievous glint in your eye that was far too familiar to ignore. You’d unlaced a fair amount of your dress, showing cleavage that always seemed to grasp his attention. When you’d first done it, he was convinced you’d put a spell on him. He still wasn’t sure you hadn’t.

His eyes wandered over your skin, jaw clenching and blood simmering when he caught sight of a nasty bruise on your arm. What he didn’t realize was that you saw the shift, far too aware of how he was feeling.

You disappeared from his sight, entering the little tent you’d put up for privacy. It wasn’t something you used often, but you thought maybe it would be nice for after the hunt. However, you knew tonight it would not be used. Instead, Geralt would take you somewhere in the woods, after he’d done whatever he needed to get the anger out of his system.

You grinned, unlacing your dress further and tossing it into a corner. Your corset wasn’t particularly pretty, but it was functional, and would aid in your little chase. You made quick work of the lacing, switching into a thin chemise. Your tunic and trousers were discarded and neatly folded, resting on top of your bedroll as you relaced your corset and poked your head out of the tent. Geralt’s back was to you, a clear shot at escape. You drew in a deep breath and bolted.

“I know you’re close, witch.”

His voice took a turn, lowering with each word he spoke. You were drawn from your thoughts as warmth pooled between your legs and you silently cursed yourself.

The chase continued until you were wheezing, bringing yourself to a stop behind a tree, hoping no spider decided to crawl on you. The forest went silent and your heart skipped a beat. A deep growl sounded from behind you and you jumped, barely turning in time to see Geralt racing towards you. Your eyes widened and despite knowing there wasn’t a chance to outrun him, you tried. You’d barely made it a few feet when suddenly he collided with you, arms wrapped around you to soften the fall. You landed with a huff, struggling against his arms. No matter how many times he did that, and no matter how much you liked it, it was still annoying. He was hovering over you in a blink, fingers digging into your soft skin. You fisted your hands in his shirt. He growled again, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was a flurry of teeth and tongue, a convincing distraction as he hiked up your skirts and removed your undergarments.

Something stroked your lower lips and you jolted as he slipped his middle finger into your cunt. A moan escaped your lips, body arching into his. He chuckled, free hand gripping your ass to pull you closer. Geralt began to guide your hips, fucking you with his fingers as the night darkened. You grasped his wrist, bucking against his hand until he pulled away. You began to whine, all noise stopping when he slapped your thigh. His eyes were nearly all pupil when you made eye contact, both waiting to see what the other did.

He broke first, flipping you around and resting his hands on your hips, positioning you on all fours.

“Take what I give you.”

You hummed, ignoring the sound of ripping fabric and a slight pinching of the hem as he exposed your breasts to the cold forest air. Geralt tugged you back towards him, ass pressed against his pelvic bone as you both grounded against each other.

“You’re such a good girl, doing what I want.”

You only sighed in response, mind focused on the roughness of his hands. Calloused fingers roamed your skin, a wet spot forming on his trousers as your bare cunt rubbed against the fabric. He hissed, making quick work of the buttons and pushed them down to his knees, guiding his cock inside you. You gasped as the head pressed against your lips, unconsciously pushing back against him. He groaned, using his free hand to keep you in place as he inched inside. You moaned, fingers grasping at the rotten leaves on the forest floor. Geralt bottomed out, hips flush against you as you clenched around him, chest heaving. He trailed a hand down your back before resting it between your shoulder blades.

You shifted, urging him to move before you lost your mind. Geralt wasted no time.

He pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you, a cry escaping your lips as he hit some spot inside you that had you seeing stars. He kept up a relentless pace, grunts filling the air as he used you for pleasure. All you could do was moan brokenly, mind foggy. The feeling of him inside of you was too much.

He thrusted in and out of you, stimulating every spot that had you gasping. You clenched around him, arms and thighs shaking. He took mercy on you, sliding his hand further up your back until he could clasp your hair, tugging you backwards to rest on him. You gasped at the new position, arching into him and squeezing your eyes shut. Geralt kept a firm grip on your hair, tugging at it in time with his thrusts, using his other hand to tug at whichever nipple he felt like touching. You rolled your hips, back bent as you tried to chase your own pleasure. He just scoffed, continuing to play with your nipples until they were nearly sore and you were crying for release.

The tightness in your gut was too much, all encompassing as Geralt pulsed inside of you. You arched your body further, burying your face in his neck as he rammed into you. He brought his hand from your chest to your clit, ghosting over it to see your reaction. You barely registered the touch at first, too cock-drunk and lost in the sensations. Geralt growled against you, the sound sending vibrations through you as he began to rub furious figure eights against your clit. You cried out, pressing yourself against him further, desperate to run from the feeling. It was too much.

Stars burst behind your eyes as your orgasm began to wash over you, your limbs shaking furiously. Geralt grinned, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your flesh, a broken sound leaving you.

Geralt mockingly cooed at you, releasing his grip on your hair as he thrusted hard into you, cock pulsing as he grunted. You squeezed tight around him, a hiss escaping his lips as he came. You followed not too far after with a hoarse cry, grinding your hips against his to ride out your high. Geralt wrapped his free arm around your waist, chests heaving as he pulled out of you. You whined at the sensitivity of your cunt, turning and nuzzling into his chest. He stroked your cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a while, waiting for your hearts to return to their normal beats. Geralt started to pull away, chuckling when you whined and weakly pulled him back to the ground.

“We’ll stay here a while, sweet girl. We’ll move when you’re ready.”

#geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #the witcher #geralt smut #kinktober

[caffieneaddictt18]

Moment of Peace

sorceress!reader travels with geralt and ciri as their healer and ciris mother figure as geralts wife. one relaxing day, reader shows ciri a little party trick that geralt doesnt know yet. ends with geralt and reader play fighting about why she didnt show him but showed ciri; and them all acting like a family

(not my image)

As we finally settle in a meadow, surrounded by forest, I let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of sun against my face and the soft soil beneath me feels amazing.

"Ciri! Y/N! Go collect water. I'll be right back." Geralt commands, but before he can leave to collect wood and sustenance for the night, you stop him and give him a quick kiss.

"Be safe."

"Always am."

Those simple four words are all you need before you walk off into the forest for a few yards, before you come upon a clear water stream. You see Ciri standing in the water and feeling the sun while collecting water. As you join her in the water, she looks up.

"So... why do you allow him to order you around if you're his wife?" Ciri, blunt as ever, asks, not understanding that this is Geralt's way of showing his love.

"He doesn't 'order' me around. It's his way of keeping us safe. I'm a mage and can keep you safe. You're training and can keep me safe. Plus, he goes off and does the dangerous hunting, so we don't have to. It's his way of showing love." I explain his actions and why I react without losing my patience with the way Geralt talks to me.

"Oh. I didn't think about it like that." Ciri ticks her head to the side and continues to collect water.

"Geralt isn't conventional. But he is exactly how I want him. I wouldn't want it any other way." I start towards the bank of the river and continue walking along the greenery of the forest.

As Ciri looked on as you walked, she watched in mystery. The forest seemed to bend to your will. The trees would part to make a path for you and the stones would roll out of the way, leaving only soft soil for you to walk on.

As you both reached your camp site, Geralt was dragging a large deer, and a cloth behind him that was filled. Probably with wood.

You and Ciri both put your jugs down as Geralt drops the sack of wood off near you and walks to the trees to skin the animal for food & it's hide.

You have the sense to build the fire and let Ciri light it later. She's normally sleepy when you build the fire. Makes it easier.

As you both run around, you find a good size patch of daisies.

"Ciri!" You call over the girl, "Come here!"

The blonde girl runs over to see what you're looking at.

"Would you like to learn how to make a daisy chain? You can even put one on Geralt, if you'd like." You throw out the tempting offer to make the Witcher seem silly.

And Ciri quickly agrees. You sit down, careful to avoid the daisies, and show her how to make a daisy chain/flower crown.

As the sun is no longer at its nice, warm heat and enters the baking heat, you take Ciri down to the stream again to clean up. 'The sun will dry us faster' was your reasoning to drag the girl with you.

As you are cleaning your clothes and yourself off, you see Ciri doing the same. Perfect.

"Hey, Ciri! Would you like to see something?"

"Um... What is it?"

"I promise, no harm will come unto you from me. It's just a little party trick."

"Ok..." She waded closer to you as you met her in the middle of the stream.

You magically gathered the sweat and water from Ciri and yourself, throwing it into the air and condensing the clouds around the sun to have more water, allowing the clouds to form a sort of circle around the sun. As the sun continues to shine, the clouds begin turn colors... briefly pink, then a light green, and there's a light blue! (Refer to the picture at the top)

Ciri looks at the sky in awe. "You can do this?" She points to the clouds.

"Yes. When I was at Aretuza, they taught not just politics and magic. They taught basic sciences. This was one of those. I had asked my teacher why there as a rainbow after every rainfall. She explained it to me. Since then, I had been practicing it until I was able to perfect it. Took a couple tries, but it came one day, and it stayed."

"And you never showed me?" A deep, hulking voice inquired from the shadows. Of course, the yellow cat-like eyes gave him away.

"I'm sorry, Geralt. I thought of it as a mere party trick. And it's not like it is helpful when we are off on adventures." I laugh and 'apologize' for not showing my husband sooner.

"You better be sorry!" He charges out of the woods and into the stream, getting both you and Ciri wet again, before lifting you by the waist and carrying you back to base on his shoulder. Everyone was laughing and peace was covering the three of them.

Just a moment of peace.

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

Author's Cup of Tea:

I am so sorry the ending was bad. I didn't know what to put for the ending so I winged it. Thank you all so much for your love and support of my work! I love to see everyone enjoying it.

#witches #witch reader #witchcraft #x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #the witcher #cirilla of cintra #ciri x you #ciri x reader #ciri x mom!reader #princess cirilla #ciri #cirilla #geralt x sorceress!reader #geralt x witch!reader #geralt x sorceress #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher

[holylulusworld]

Broken Rose (2)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, a/b/o, magic, mentions of character’s death

Broken Rose masterlist

Broken Rose (1)

“You won’t walk away from me like that, omega!” Geralt calls after you. He’s walking faster to catch up with you. “I told you to stop.”

“You conquered these lands, and the castle, but I am still the queen of this kingdom. Someone must look out for the people who are not under your spell! The knights only listen to your command and don’t care for my people any longer.”

“I did not say that.” Geralt’s features darken. “Your knights follow their usual routine. The only difference is that I forced them to accept me as their king and alpha.”

“You promised me to free them!” You twirl around to glare at Geralt. “You lied! Just like back then, you lied!”

“I did not lie back then!” He yells back. “I wanted to court you! I asked your father for your hand, and the honor to claim you. I wasn’t good enough!”

“You’re a liar! I know you left to whore around with that witch,” you sneer at him. “What was her name?”

“This doesn’t…” He grits his teeth. “I was with her to gain more powers. It was the only way! She meant nothing to me!”

“She meant enough to you to fuck her!” You raise your voice, and walls start to shake. “Do not lie to me!”

“What are you doing?” Geralt watches you with darkened eyes. “Stop this! I will force you into submission if you don’t stop angering me.”

“Yennefer, that was her name,” you step closer to Geralt to run your hand over his chest. He follows the motion, wondering what you are up to. “Did you never question her disappearance?”

You laugh darkly when his stoic mask slips for a moment. Worry flashes in his eyes for a second. “Y/N, stop talking about the past.”

“Did she mean so little to you that you don’t care if she’s dead or alive?” You coo the words, a smile on your lips. “Did you not call her your love too?” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Or did you lie to her too?”

“How’d you find out about Yennefer?” He watches you walk around the room, fingertips sliding over the bust of your father. “Y/N! How did you find out about her?”

Geralt raises his voice. Yennefer was close to winning his heart over. He almost forgot about his plan to get you back and take over your kingdom.

She was a sly witch. Yennefer enchanted him with her beauty and magic, almost breaking his resolve to never give his heart to anyone else. 

“Father,” you place your hand onto the bust, tapping your fingers. “I pleaded with him. One last time I tried to convince him that a bond between you and me would strengthen our kingdom.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can be very convincing,” you push the bust off its rightful place, watching it crack into two halves. “Father was almost convinced.” You dip your head and smirk. “That was, of course, until he found out about your wench.”

“I—” He swallows thickly. Geralt you can be hard, and unforgiving. “What did you do?”

“I accepted a bond with his friend’s son, a prince,” you walk toward the next bust showing your father at a younger age. “A nasty man who only wanted one thing.” This time you punch the bust, making it tumble and fall to the ground. 

“Let me guess,” Geralt steps toward the next bust. He gently runs his hand over it, admiring the handiwork. “He wanted to tame you.”

“All men want to tame a woman,” you step next to Geralt to look at the bust of your younger self. “He’s not alone.”

“…and they failed. One, after another,” Gerald muses. “Like your knights when they tried to stop me. They fell. One, by one, by one.”

“They didn’t fall,” you snap and turn your attention toward the last bust. The one they made shortly before your father passed away. “You used your magic. This has nothing to do with strength or talent.” 

“Strength, talent, magic,” he shrugs while circling you like prey. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N. In the end, they were weak and let it happen. You on the other hand,” his eyes glow when he looks at you again. “Still nothing. I cannot enchant you with my powers. Even if I wanted to.”

You cock your head, mirroring his smirk. “Did you ever wonder why?”

“Your will is too strong,” he replies. “You inherit a different kind of magic deep within your soul. A magic so strong that it cannot be broken by my powers. 

“Back to your lover,” you push against the last bust, watching it shatter on the ground. “Do you miss her?” 

“Y/N let’s not talk about the past. We have a future to build. I want these lands to grow and blossom. At the moment, it’s rotten and not fruitful.”

“Like your seed,” you smirk darkly, knowing about the price Geralt paid for his powers. “It’s rotten, just like your wench’s womb. Isn’t it?”

“What happened to her?” Geralt watches you caress your mother’s bust. “Y/N, what happened to her?”

“She paid the price for conspiring with my father to make me forget about you,” you chuckle darkly. “Imagine her surprise when her powers did nothing for her. She was powerless while facing me.”

“She conspired with your father. This cannot be true,” he shakes his head. Geralt is proud of his sharp mind, and his talent to see through any lie. “No.”

You kiss your mother’s bust and sigh. While she was still around, your father was a different man. He would’ve never tricked you into marrying another man than Geralt.

“I was surprised too, Geralt. I heard rumors and believed you simply found a better mate,” your voice cracks. “Imagine my surprise when the very same woman came to collect on my wedding day.”

“Wedding day?” Geralt gasps. “No. You’re not married! You’re my queen, no one else’s!”

“I didn’t say I got married,” you chuckle darkly as you grab his hand to place it onto your heart. “Can you feel this? This heart got broken one too many times. I’ve had enough and took matters into my hands.”

“Y/N, what did you do?” 

“What had to be done,” you hold his hand in a tight grip. “He denied me my future so…”

“So…” Geralt furrows his brows, already knowing he answer.

“I took his…”

Tags in reblog.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #a/b/o #alpha!geralt of rivia x omega!reader #royal au #Broken Rose (2) #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia x you

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm 

Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.  Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!

Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.

Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.

Geralt had warned you.

Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.

But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.

It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.

Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.

Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.

As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.

“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.

It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”

“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”

You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”

“No, what of it?”

“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”

Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”

A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.

The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted

Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.

And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.

His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.

You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.

You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.

Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”

“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.

Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.

You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.

“Jask…”

The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.

“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.

“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.

Jaskier right beside you.

“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”

You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.

It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.

You already don’t want clothes in the way.

As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.

It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.

The wine. Only the wine.

It has to be.

Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.

He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.

Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.

In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.

Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.

It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room. 

It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.

“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements. 

Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.

And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.

Gods is he hard.

It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.

You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.

You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.

He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”

“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.

Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?

“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”

You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”

He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.

With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.

As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.

As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.

You had just fucked Jaskier.

You were still sitting on his cock.

As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.

“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”

********************************************************

They did not give me cannonical aphrodisiac usage at witch parties for nothing.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

#fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #x reader #x reader smut #jaskier #jaskier x reader

[kittenofdoomage]

A Bargain Struck

Summary: Inspired by this post on Tumblr and the lovely @angryschnauzer. You’ve struck a bargain with something unholy, and now he wants his due.

Pairing: demonic!Geralt x female!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, demonic rituals, selling souls, everyone’s over the age of 18, this is a sort of medieval AU, use of horns for leverage during sex, transformations during sex, probably a lot of blasphemy?, it’s filth yet fluffy? Soft!Geralt is definitely a thing here. Let’s get weird. Uh, size kink, wing kink, demonic tongue fucking, definitely monsterfucking.

Ao3 Link

A/N: I was too excited to share this one with everyone. I know @deandoesthingstome wanted a tag (I think anyway, I didn't hallucinate that, right?) but haven't tagged anyone else to read. Let me know what you think, in gif form or otherwise!

She can’t help but feel joy when her sister, younger than her by only a few years, bursts through the door of their cottage, laughing as Dotty nips at the hem of her dress. It is a relatively new sight to behold, to see Emily filled with such life, when only weeks before she had been expected to die. “The moon, Y/N, did you see it?” she gasps, coming to a stop at the table, leaning on it with her hands to stare out of the window. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ve seen,” Y/N replies, turning away from her sibling so she doesn’t see the worry in her eyes. It’s a blood moon, huge and pinkish red, filling the horizon in a stunningly clear sky. You have until midnight at the blood moon, he had said, the formless voice in the darkness that had granted her wish for her sister to live. She knew the price when she sought him out; it was clear in the ritual. Her sister’s life for her soul, bound to him for eternity.

A price she would gladly pay again.

“You’re quiet,” Emily murmurs, pulling out a chair as Dotty jumps around her. “What are you making?”

“Venison pie for supper. And I’m just concentrating.” The pastry around the edges of her creation are not playing ball, and they need to be perfect. This is her last meal with her family, and she intends to savor every moment of it. “Would you mind setting the table?”

She’s spent the last three weeks worrying if they will cope without her. He had given her assurances of a long happy life, but the what ifs and maybes still linger, nibbling at her thoughts until she was consumed with anxiety over it.

Emily hums as she gathers the dishes and cutlery for dinner, making Y/N smile as she finally gets the pastry to behave. The oven billows out a plume of hot air when she tugs the door open, and she shoves the pie in. “There we go,” she mutters, wiping the grease off of her hands onto her apron. “It should be ready when Mother gets home.”

“She’s still at the church?” her sister asks.

Chuckling, Y/N locates her cup of tea, happy to find it still warm enough to drink. “Well, your recovery was nothing short of miraculous,” she sighs. “Mother just thinks she needs to pay Him back.” She could have told her, of course, but their mother had always fallen on the more devout side of religious, and she didn’t think any good could come of confessing her deal with the devil, or something like him at the very least. The last thing she needed is to be locked up for being a witch - if she wasn’t there to pay the price, he could take back what he’d given, and she would not let that happen.

The cottage fills with the scent of the pie as it cooks. Y/N prepares the vegetables, listening to Emily chat about her day, wiping away an errant tear as she soaks in her sister’s excitement and zest for life. She wishes dearly that she could be there to see her grow and learn, maybe get married and have children, and hates even more that she won’t be. As the time to say goodbye creeps closer, she feels her nerves churning into an uncomfortable ball that sits in her belly, filling her with dread.

Their mother comes home just as they are plating up the meal, and the conversation revolves around her day at the church. She makes them say a prayer before supper, though Y/N keeps one eye open because she’s certain no prayer or God can save her from what she’s giving herself to. 

As her family continues to chatter obliviously, she tries to keep her focus on them, to enjoy the moments she has left with them. Emily is talking about a local boy she has a crush on, and Y/N feels her heart in her throat when her mother asks if she will be going to the market in the morning.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she mumbles, cheeks rapidly warming. “How’s the pie?”

“Wonderful as always,” her mother replies. “I don’t know where you get your cooking skills from, certainly not me.” The joke is supposed to make her smile but Y/N only feels regret that she’s leaving them.

“You’re a good cook too,” Emily insists, grinning at her sister who manages a weak curve of her lips.

She’s trying so hard not to show her grief. She should be happy. Her sister will live a full and happy life. Y/N couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

Dinner is over quickly, and once everything is cleared away, Y/N looks out of the window. The moon is a deeper shade of red now, hanging ominously over the trees in the distance. It’s bright enough that the whole valley is bathed in an eerie crimson, and she shudders as she looks towards the forest and the darkness waiting to greet her.

She still has time. Her sister is already in front of the fire, needlework in hand, humming again like she is prone to do since her recovery. Their mother reads, glasses perched on the end of her nose to make her look far older than she is, and Y/N smiles as she sits between them, letting the warmth of the firelight wash over her.

“You should take the rest of those apples to the market tomorrow,” Mother says quietly, and she nods, even though she knows she’ll never go to market again. The apples will probably rot in the basket. 

The night draws on. Mother retires first, kissing her firstborn on the top of the head as she passes, before taking Emily’s hand and looking at her fondly. Y/N watches her go with a heavy ache in her heart, wishing she could say goodbye, and not just leave them without resolution.

“You’re still being quiet,” Emily observes, putting her needlework away. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a second where she’s not sure what to say. She can see herself spilling the truth, dragging a promise from her little sister that she would live her life, fall in love, do all the things Y/N would never get to do. But she can’t say it because then Emily would know, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister carrying the weight of that guilt forever.

Sitting up, she smiles, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says, getting up to take over the seat their mother had vacated.

Emily watches her for a moment longer, obviously deciding whether to prod at the subject. When she makes her choice, she sighs, rising from the chair. “Well, I’m tired too, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.” She turns, then pauses before crossing the room to lean down and press a kiss to her sister’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispers, tears in her eyes. If the younger woman notices, she doesn’t say anything, quickly retreating and leaving her sibling alone. 

She waits a while, watching the fire die out until there are only a few embers remaining. Once the red glow fades, she gets to her feet, making her way to her mother’s room first, and she finds her in a deep slumber, one arm slung over the edge of her bed. With a smile, Y/N pulls the door shut, moving to the next, and Emily is asleep too. She lingers for a second, wishing once more that she could say goodbye, but time is running thin, so she closes the door and moves on.

It didn’t seem worth the effort to take anything with her, and it’s easier to move silently with just her cloak. She fastens it at her throat and makes her way out of the cottage, careful to lock the door behind her, slipping the key into her pocket through habit - it’s unlikely she’ll need it again. Pulling her hood up, she walks away from the village and towards the forest, keeping her footsteps light and quick. Her cloak catches on the undergrowth as it gets thicker, and soon she’s picking her way along the narrow path between the trees, feeling more anxious as the darkness crowds her. Further along, the trees are so dense that the moonlight cannot penetrate their leaves and she has to slow to avoid tripping on unseen hazards.

Her destination isn’t all that far. The ground grows steeper, and she has to be more careful as she searches for the ruins in the dark. It helps that she has walked this path before, when she made her bargain, and she knows she’s there when she finds the first stone, stuck upright in the ground with strange symbols she traces with her fingers.

The ruins are empty and dark. Huge stones mark the circle, with some lying flat in the middle, almost like an altar. She doesn’t know what they once were but she can feel the electricity in the air, taste it like iron on her tongue.

“Hello?” she calls in a shaky uncertain voice. It must be nearly midnight; if she looks up, she can see the moon high above the trees. The wind rushes around her, and she shivers, tugging her cloak closed. “Are you here?”

Everything falls silent. A twig snaps, and she spins, peering into the dark thicket of trees between two of the largest stones. She’s about to call again as two golden eyes suddenly become visible, and instinct makes her pull back.

“Hello?” she whispers this time. For some strange reason, she doesn’t feel afraid, just apprehensive and uncertain in the face of something so unholy.

“You are ready to finish our bargain.”

She casts her gaze back the way she came, sorrow heavy in her heart. “I am.”

“The price was agreed,” he murmurs, golden eyes shining in the darkness surrounding him. “Yet I see tears in your eyes. Do you wish to take back what was given?”

Horror fills her, the image of her sister dying slowly still imprinted in her mind. She doesn’t want that. “I’m never going to see my family again,” she replies softly, wiping at her eyes. “Are you so unfeeling that you cannot understand grief?”

He chuckles at that, and she can hear him shifting around. “I understand perfectly.” Squinting isn’t giving her a clearer view of him, though her eyes are still adjusting to the lack of light. “You’re not afraid.”

It’s a statement, made out of curiosity, and she lets her shoulders relax. “I don’t think so,” she whispers. She’s uncertain what faces her, but it’s difficult for anything to overcome the despair at leaving her family. “Can I see you?”

There’s a pause, more rustling, and he clears his throat. “Have you ever seen a demon before?”

“No,” she answers truthfully, even as her mind conjures images of disgusting beasts and eldritch creatures.

He harrumphs under his breath. Y/N watches, unsure what to expect, and then he steps forward, letting the darkness melt away. At first he seems huge, and she hears the rustle of wings, but as he comes closer, he seems to shrink into a more human shape. He’s still tall, broad, rippling with muscle underneath a black shirt that clings to his skin, and the only things that indicate his otherworldliness are his golden eyes, his long white hair, and the two thick black horns curving out from the sides of his head. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and he stares at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you frightened now?” he asks.

There is fear but it’s inspired by a new feeling inside her, something raw and primal, something that’s telling her she belongs to this creature, and she’s not sure if it’s magic or him, or something else entirely. “No,” she says again, shaking her head this time.

His lips curl into a smile. “Curious,” he rumbles. “I knew there was a reason I answered the summons.”

The comment makes her frown. “Aren’t you compelled to?” He laughs, and it’s a sound that makes her insides quiver with need. There’s something strange about him that draws her in, and she takes a step closer to him, tilting her head. “Do you have a name?” she asks boldly.

He watches her in amusement, like he’s never encountered anyone like her before. “Geralt,” he concedes.

It feels more comfortable to have a name to use, though she’s no closer to understanding what is happening. If he didn’t have to respond to the ritual, why did he? The thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the amusement doesn’t fade from his face.

“The ritual only binds the one whose blood is used,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them. “You are now bound to me, Y/N, for what I have given you. Do you understand what that means?”

Her mouth goes dry. “You take my soul,” she rasps, eyes watering again. “I have to die.”

There’s a second where he seems confused, and then his knuckles are brushing her cheek, wiping away the errant tear that escapes. “What gave you that idea?” She stares at him, puzzled by his words, and he’s suddenly right there, looming over her, one meaty paw cupping her face. Her heart is racing at his proximity, and she begins to understand exactly what he wants from her. “You’re mine now,” he repeats softly. “I will only ever protect you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she breathes, lifting her hands to brace them against his chest, to stop him getting closer or just to touch him - she’s not certain which. He’s real and solid under her palms, and she’s surprised when she feels the dull thud of his heart in his chest.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he hums, dropping his head just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against hers. “I was growing weary of solitude. Then I heard your plea…”

His lips brush hers, and she stuns herself by lifting her chin, allowing him to initiate the kiss. It’s not like she hasn’t been kissed before, she’s just never been kissed with such raw need, and before she can register it, he has her body pinned against his, held in place with a hand on her lower back. She can barely breathe when he breaks away to look down at her; his eyes are nearly black and it’s too hard to pull her gaze away.

“But you’re a demon,” she mumbles.

He answers in a gentle tone, almost amused by her dazed reaction. “I cannot help what I am.” His hand is around her hip now, keeping their bodies pressed together, and she can feel something hard digging into her belly. It takes a second for her to realize; her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You want me to be your companion,” she says slowly, acutely aware of how large he is. “For me to - to -”

Geralt smiles, and it’s a hungry smile, exposing his sharp canines. “Yes,” he confirms, voice thick and syrupy. “I knew as soon as I heard your plea. You are lonely too.”

She wants to be indignant at that, to deny it, except she has always been lonely. Once she thought she had found someone who she had been prepared to give her whole heart to, only for him to shatter the dream and walk away. Since then, her only duty had been to her family, and though she loved them dearly, she had never tried to be anything but the perfect daughter and sister.

“You see?” Geralt draws her back to the present. “You ache for someone to love you. To care for you. It’s why you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for your sister.” His hand somehow covers the whole side of her head, which should be terrifying, but she’s leaning into it, finding comfort in the touch. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

She nods, almost in a daze. He pulls back, taking her hand to lead her to the altar-like stone in the middle of the ruins, and she follows without question. When he sits, he drags her between his thighs, and the angle is much friendlier to her neck when he kisses her again.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls, unclasping her cloak to let it fall to the ground.

Her eyes lock on his. The golden in them is nearly entirely eaten by black, and a rush of warmth ends right at her core. “I’m yours,” she manages weakly, suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood in her veins. She feels like she should resist simply because he’s a demon, but she doesn’t feel any danger from him at all.

He tugs her dress up, slicing through the fabric that gets in his way with sharpened claws that are gone by the time he finds her flesh. Heat floods her face when he rubs thick fingers against her sex, and she flings out a hand to brace herself against his shoulder, leaning to the side as he sinks a single digit inside her. It’s thicker than anything that’s ever been inside her before, making her squeak and cling to him, and a rumble of amusement echoes in his chest.

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispers, suddenly in fear of disappointing him.

“Neither am I,” he replies in a quiet laugh. She gasps as he works a second finger into her, and she begins to think that if his cock is bigger than this, he might not fit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that rallies against the idea of intimate relations with a demon, but she ignores it in favor of his touch, gasping as he thrusts his fingers inside her as deep as they can go.

She can hear how wet she’s getting, and he can too, grunting his appreciation when his fingers come out glistening. When he pushes them into her again, she whimpers, rocking her hips to meet his movement, focusing on the fire he’s igniting in her belly. She’s felt it before, just not this powerful, like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and before she can vocalize the pleasure, her pussy clenches and she’s dripping down his wrist. He moans, almost covering the squelch of his fingers as they keep sinking into her over and over, forcing her to ride out every wave of her orgasm until he’s satisfied she’s done.

He withdraws, allowing her to rest as he tears his shirt off, but her attention has moved to the bulge in his pants. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers against it, looking up sharply when he growls low in his throat and slides his hand to the fastening. His cock springs free the second it's able, and she swallows around the lump in her throat, still uncertain she can take him.

Her apprehension must have been plastered across her face. He catches her chin, forcing her to look at him, and she sees reassurance in his eyes. “It will feel good,” he says softly, taking hold her hand to guide it to his shaft. It’s warm to touch, solid under her fingertips, so she grasps him in her hand, tentatively stroking down then up, smiling when he moans. “That’s it,” he purrs, pressing his hand between her thighs again.

The intrusion of his fingers is familiar now her body has adjusted but he takes his time to open her up properly, bringing her to the cusp of climax after climax. By the time he is hauling her into his lap, she’s a panting mess, yet she still hesitates as he presses the wide tip of his shaft to her entrance, using his fingers to position himself. His golden gaze fixes on hers when he begins to drag her down, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’ll break her, then the first inch is in and she practically begs for the rest. He sinks up into her slowly, letting her pussy drench him to ease his path, and when he’s finally buried deep, she can’t breathe for the pressure in her belly. Her walls hug him tightly, cockhead snug against her cervix, and he keeps her right there, grinding inside while she can do nothing except accommodate him.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a gravelly voice that makes her feel like he’s holding something back.

“You’re -” She still can’t control her breathing, almost shivering through overstimulation. “You’re so big, I -”

“Hmmm.” He sounds amused, watching as she gasps and splutters, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding them to his shoulders. “Would you like me to move?”

She whimpers with a nod. “Yes,” is all she can manage, and he chuckles, putting his hands to her waist. The first slow pull away from him has her digging her nails into his shoulders, but her body is quickly acclimatizing and when he’s almost fully withdrawn, she only wants him back inside her. He gives her exactly what she wants, filling her again, and she cries out in ecstasy, drowning out his low possessive growl.

There’s an electricity in the air when he begins to fuck her, overriding her meager strength to manipulate her body until she’s almost out of her mind with pleasure. The intensity of it makes her feel like she might die if he stops, or if he doesn’t; either way, she’s craving more and more, and it seems he is more than willing to give it. She comes for him easily, easing his path into her slick channel even more, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s done, prompting him to slow just a little.

He growls as she leans back just a little, held in his grasp. “I want to see all of you,” he grunts.

A clawed finger tears down the front of her dress. The fabric falls either side, exposing her breasts, and Geralt doesn’t hesitate, curling his long tongue around one stiff peak as she moans decadently. She reaches up, letting her fingers slide over the horns either side of his head, tugging experimentally. It inspires a moan that vibrates out against her sensitive skin, so she does it again, using the slight leverage to lift off of his cock before sinking back down.

He doesn’t stop her when she does it again. His hands tighten around her waist, giving her assistance on each stroke, bringing her down hard until she’s stuffed with him again. “I want to see all of you too,” she whines, resting her hands at the base of his horns. “I want to see what you really look like.”

Releasing her breast, he meets her gaze, baring his teeth slightly as she keeps moving. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” she promises desperately.

His grip on her waist tightens, forcing her to slow. She gasps, watching the slow ripple as he relinquishes the control over his form, whimpering when he pulls her down hard on his cock as it grows with him, pushing her to her limit. Large black wings sprout from his back, his teeth become sharper, and his eyes glow; he’s breathtaking and terrifying, or he should be, but she feels no fear, only the need for him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, holding her down on his cock with clawed hands.

“Yes,” she hisses, panting and wriggling to relieve the unbearable pressure in her belly. He grabs her hand, pressing it down against her gut, and her eyes go wide. “Oh -” She can feel him, right underneath her palm, throbbing inside her.

“Like you were made for me,” he snarls, rocking his hips again so she can feel the thick girth dragging against her walls. “You’re mine.”

He moves before she can react, finding herself naked and pinned underneath him on the stone altar. His wings expand then contract, surrounding them as he slides down her body, covering her aching cunt with his mouth. She yelps when she feels his tongue probing her entrance, thick and long, wriggling, and it’s a new sensation that curls her toes as he pushes the flexible organ inside her. It doesn’t fill her like his cock does but it seems to touch every hidden part of her, and she can’t catch her breath, panting hard as she reaches a new high on his tongue.

She’s shaking from head to toe, yet he doesn’t stop, groaning against her pussy, nuzzling against her clit. The additional point of stimulation makes her reach down, sliding her fingers around one horn, and he snarls, fucking his tongue into her with a little more vigor. Her back arches at the unexpected force, and she can feel her heart hammering hard in her chest. She screams and writhes, but he holds her in place until he’s satisfied, and she’s boneless, eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to pass out.

Withdrawing slowly, he climbs up her body, lining up his monstrous cock once more, and she feels like she’s looking up at a god instead of a demon. Her thoughts are swept away in the next instant when he cants his hips forward, burying his cock to the root inside her aching channel again. She falls apart in seconds, crying out until he silences her with a heady kiss. 

Time is meaningless. Every thrust sends her spiraling, raking her nails over his biceps as he claims her body along with her soul. She can’t think between bursts of ecstasy except for one driving need to feel him come inside her.

He growls as his strokes become sloppy, harder, faster, and finally, he buries himself as deep as he can, punching a choked cry out of her lungs as he spills into her. It’s hot and thick, and she groans as he keeps her still, riding out his orgasm and grinding deep until he’s done.

Her head rolls from side to side as the pleasure resides, though she can still feel him buried inside her, keeping his seed deep in her womb. He doesn’t move yet, coaxing her into a soft kiss as he remains with his wings sheltering them from the cold air. She hiccups a sob against his mouth, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, and when they part, she gasps for breath.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her gently.

She doesn’t feel up to anything like fretting at that moment, even as she looks up at his demonic countenance. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she’s certain she could fall asleep in the warmth of his hold. “Will they be alright without me?” she asks, because she has to know, and she trusts him to give her the truth.

He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yes.”

It’s all she needs. Her eyes flutter shut as she curls into his chest, contentment washing through her as the demon holds her close, lifting her from the stone to carry her towards the darkness he had come from.

When dawn breaks, all that is left is her cloak and a few tattered rags.

Thanks for reading! Please, please let me know if you liked it 🤗

#geralt x reader #demon geralt #monsterfucking #smut #adult fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #reader insert #pwp #female!reader #angst #fluff #smutty smut smut

[bookished]

MOONLIT NIGHTS: THE CABIN CHRONICLES

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-> Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x f!reader witch

-> Summary: Geralt of Rivia faces the impossible: he is defeated by a monster and, in the middle of trying to escape after being severally wounded, finds a cabin, where a witch who knows what he needs, cures him.

-> Rating: +18

-> Word count: 2.2k

-> Warnings: smut, kinks including breeding, rough sex, neck biting until blood comes out, degradation, domination, a little bit of praise kink, dirty talking

-> Notes: i've been rewatching the witcher and reading lots of fanfics, i got so in the mood of writing a piece and i hope you enjoy it! <3

Geralt of Rivia rode through the dense, ancient Caed Dhu forest, his silver hair glistening in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He had been on the path for days, following rumors of a dangerous creature that plagued the nearby village.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, he couldn't shake the feeling that this particular hunt would be different.

In the heart of the treacherous Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia, the renowned Witcher, found himself in a dire predicament. A contract had led him deep into the ancient woods, where he faced a foe more formidable than any he had encountered before. The beast, a grotesque hybrid of wolf and wyrm, had proven to be a match for Geralt's skill and swordsmanship.

As the moon hung low in the night sky, Geralt's silver sword clanged against the creature's impenetrable scales. The battle had raged for hours, and his strength waned with every strike. Blood oozed from numerous wounds, staining his armor and leather boots. His trademark white hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, and his golden eyes burned with determination.

But in a moment of miscalculation, the beast lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut around Geralt's forearm. Pain seared through his body as his bones cracked, and he let out a roar of agony. With a swift, desperate maneuver, he wrenched his arm free, leaving shreds of flesh in the creature's maw.

Battered and bloodied, Geralt knew he was outmatched. With a heavy heart and aching limbs, he made a fateful decision. He turned and sprinted through the darkened forest, leaving behind the monster he could not defeat. His every step sent waves of agony through his injured arm, but he pushed himself to the limit.

As he escaped, he couldn't help but reflect on his countless battles, his victories, and his unshakable resolve. Yet, this time, survival took precedence over valor. The Caed Dhu closed in around him, a labyrinth of twisted trees and shadowy threats. Geralt, the fearless Witcher, ran for his life, vowing to return to face the beast another day, once he had healed and prepared for the inevitable rematch.

Deep within the heart of the dense and mysterious Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia stumbled upon an unexpected sanctuary. The cabin's solitude was a haven for a Witcher in need, a sanctuary where he could mend his battered body and prepare for the inevitable return to the treacherous wilderness.

The cabin stood as a solitary sentinel in the depths of the forest, its timeworn facade hidden beneath a canopy of thick foliage. With aching limbs and a resolve unyielding as steel, Geralt pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dimly lit interior.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of herbs and alchemical concoctions. The flickering candlelight revealed a modest yet well-equipped witch's lair. Shelves lined with vials of potions and bundles of dried herbs stretched to the ceiling. A cauldron simmered with a mysterious brew, its aroma tinged with both magic and healing properties.

He needed rest and healing. Inside the cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. The scent of herbs and potions filled the air, a telltale sign of a fellow witch's presence. He knew he wasn't alone.

From the shadows, your hooded figure emerged, revealing the gentle features of a young witch. You had been tracking his progress and had prepared the cabin for his arrival.

He got a closer look of you, which allowed him to see the medallion of the Viper, which matched your dark green eyes, that were glistening under the candle's light. You were, definitely, one of the few Witches left after the Trials that erased most of them from the surface of Earth.

Without a word, you approached Geralt and began to help him remove his clothes, your touch gentle yet firm. As the clothing fell away, his battle-worn body was exposed, covered in cuts and bruises. He hissed in pain as you examined his wounds.

"I'll take care of you, Geralt," you murmured softly, your voice soothing. You mixed herbs and applied salves, tending to each injury with practiced care. Your fingers moved with a grace born of years of training.

Geralt watched you work, silently grateful for your presence. The pain began to ebb away as your healing magic flowed through him, knitting his flesh together.

Once the wounds were tended to, you stepped back, your eyes meeting his yellowish ones with a warmth that belied the harsh world they inhabited.

"Rest now," you said, guiding him to a nearby bed. "You've earned it."

As he lay down, his body slowly relaxing, Geralt couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the kindred spirit who had tended to his wounds. In a world filled with darkness and danger, he had found a glimmer of light and solace in your healing touch.

Also, your touch brought up a slow burning fire within him, making him feeling the need in his body to bring you closer, to lick you, to taste you. He needed to show gratefulness by giving pleasure to you after healing him with such care and knowledge... as if you knew exactly how his body reacted to each one of the remedies you were using. That made the White Wolf groan in approval.

He couldn't help but grab your wrist before you stepped back, not applying so much pressure to hurt you, but enough strength to keep you where you stood. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, making you stare back at his intense stare.

He started slowly and gently rubbing your inner wrist, where your pulse was accelerated, with his thumb calming it, you, without words, and no further movements needed.

"You're safe, Geralt. You made it home. Let me go, and you rest." You whispered, not wanting to break the calm and enchanted ambience. You don't know how you managed to sound firm, calm, steady and confident, but your tone left no doubts.

He kept staring at you, his jaw tense while the candles in the cabin lightened his skin, and you couldn't help but break eye contact and admire his body. His injured body. But, also, his fit figure.

Suddenly, Geralt pulled you into him without effort, and a groan escaped from him, low and deep. Something that made your body really happy, but you knew you couldn't risk hurting him more than he already was. You needed him fully recovered.

"If you want to keep that hand and arm, I'd suggest you let go." You had no choice but to warn him.

"I can smell you, Witch." He simply replied, his voice low and raspy, while not letting you go. You swallowed the lump in your throat, as you smelled his arousal, too. There was no possible denial in what was going around between you two, in that cabin, as the darkness of the night and the moonlit mixed with the candles surrounding you both.

With his other hand, he grabbed the Viper medallion hanging from your neck, pulling your face closer to his while keeping his firm stare at you. You could even notice the smallest of the dilation of his pupils in that position.

"After taking care of me, let me take care of your needs, witch." Geralt whispered. You knew fighting him was useless, and you couldn't deny the way your body was craving him, either. He tilted his body, not giving a flying fuck about his fresh wounds.

You stared down at his lips, and back to his eyes. He grinned a little before grabbing your medallion and pulling you close until both of your lips were a wet mess against each other, not even letting the air pass between you two.

You moaned against his lips, your groans and whines making him feel rougher and animalistic each passing second. His hands were everywhere on your body, not allowing even one millimeter of skin escape from his touch.

No previous warning, he ripped your dress from behind and continued tearing off your undergarments. You were speechless as you could only feel him. You tried touching him, but he didn’t allow that. He had you naked in front of him in a matter of seconds.

Furthermore, you looked into his eyes, waiting for his next move. "Geralt-" You were anxious for more of what he had to offer.

"You're exquisite, aren't you, witch?" He was appreciative of your exposed body in front of him, meanwhile using your condition as a pet name, which didn't annoy you at all.

He took your silence as an invitation to switch positions, grabbing you by a fistful by your long hair, having you bent over the same surface he was laying on not long ago.

Geralt directed his right hand to your pussy, moving his fingers between your folds while humming appreciatively at your wetness. The sounds filling the room, and the sights you had thanks to the little mirror that wasn't too far away on the wall in front of you, were too much to handle. It didn't take long for your thighs to begin to shake, and the White Wolf knew it too.

His hand, which was teasing you, was now wrapped around your small neck, pushing you down, taking out his digits, spreading you apart with his large girth, and slamming into your cunt.

As you wrapped your small hand around his, he tightened his hold on your neck, taking your gesture as an invitation to be rougher.

He tilted his body on top of your back, replacing the hold of his hand on your neck with his teeth burying in the delicate spot of your skin, as he kept slamming into your wetness, and you could feel his medallion swinging over you as his movement fastened, and his cock was buried deep, still pounding, into you.

"Ah, fuck, Geralt." You mumbled, not being able to keep your eyes out of the reflection in the mirror. The candles lightning his sweated skin, you underneath him as he dominated you on that unstable surface and his aura surrounding your senses.

Your hips began to move on his, as you needed that sweet relief. Geralt's bite on your neck became harder and you could feel and smell a bit of blood running down your skin, which heated up both of you even more, if possible.

His groans were louder against you, the slamming of his cock inside of you more frenetic and he dug his nails into the sides of your hips to keep you steady. He let go of your neck to press his mouth on your shoulder. "You're so fucking tight and behaving like a good girl," he moaned. "Keep milking me, witch, so I can breed you and fill you up with my cum until it oozes out."

The way he was talking to you, saying those things, had you closer to the edge. You needed to feel his cock pulsate inside of you, stretching you out and getting you full of him. Your moans were unstoppable as nonsense dripped out of your mouth.

"I wanna see those pretty thighs of yours covered with my cum." Geralt wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in place as he circled your nipple with his thumb and index, pinching it.

“Yes, Geralt, yes." Your mind was blank, dazzled with lust and desire, almost making you forget your own name.

Your thighs began to shake, and he felt them, “Yes, witch, come all over my cock.” His encouraging, husky voice praised you. You called out the White Wolf's name, your orgasm hitting hard and uncontrollably, your head dizzy as you saw stars and lights in your vision.

You felt Geralt exploding inside of you, with a few more snaps of his hips against your ass you felt his girth tighten up, and a few more spurts of his cum filling you up as you rode off your orgasm.

"Fuck, you milked me so good, you emptied me, didn't you?" He moaned and grunted again as he felt your pussy tightening lightly on him. "What kind of witchcraft did you use on me, huh?"

He let go of your breast, not moving his position so you were still under his dominant figure while his cock rested inside of you, feeling your thighs sticky of his cum and other mix of fluids.

"Well, you loved the way I was curing you earlier and the attention I gave you, didn't you, Witcher?"

"I'm not one to turn down a healing session when I'm offered one." Geralt whispered in your ear, still not getting off you. "But what's the catch?"

You smiled, feeling chills down your spine. "The catch is, I get to pamper every inch of you and make sure you're completely healed."

"I think I can handle that kind of catch."

Did you enjoy it? Please, consider leaving a comment, reblogging, sending feedback in any way or buying me a coffee. If you would like to request something, go and message me. Also, if you'd like, you can check my masterlist or send me any prompts. Happy reading!

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #uservolkova #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia smut #kinktober #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x f!reader

[angelltheninth]

SFW Masterlist Part 1

Part 1 of my SFW Masterlist.

DC COMICS

Comforting Jason After a Nightmare

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Nervous Billionaire

Going to the Gala with Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Even Vengeance Needs Sleep

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Soothing Insecurities

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Hurting for a Kiss

Angst with Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Reader - Just a Normal Life

MCU

MCU Characters with an S/O who is Really Skilled with Knifes

Morning After with the Moon Boys

Moon Boys Taking Care of You When You're Drunk

Mornings with Jake Lockley

Marc Spector with a Selene Goddess Avatar

Moon Boys Being Sick

Moon Boys with an S/O who has Food Allergies

Infinity War!Steve x Reader

MCU Characters Having a Crush

Moon Boys Making Food for You

Domestic Headcanons with Jake Lockley

Working with Jake Lockley

Moon Boys Reacting to You Wearing Their Clothes

Moon Boys with an S/O who has Scars

THE WITCHER

Geralt Taking Care of You While You're on Your Period

Geralt With A Bard S/O

Tugging on Geralt's Medallion

Geralt Falling in Love With a Nature Witch

Geralt Dating a Shy Sorceress

Neck Kisses with Geralt

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

Angry and Protective Daemon

Aemond, Daemon and Harwin when You Marry Someone Else

Aemond, Daemon and Harwin with a Crush

Domestic Headcanons with Daemon and Harwin

Giving Birth to Harwin's Baby

First Time Meeting Harwin Strong

Harwin Strong Protecting You

Deamon and Harwin Kissing Headcanons

Fluffy Dating Headcanons with Harwin Strong

GENSHIN IMPACT

Arlecchino with a Sassy S/O

Enemies to Lovers with Childe and Pantalone

Accidentally Bumping into Genshin Men's Chest

Genshin Men's Love Languages

Genshin Men + Pillow Talk

Barista!Childe x Fem!Reader - How Do You Take It

Zhongli x Fem!Reader - Rex Lapis Experiance

Genshin Men Being Jealous

Diluc x Fem!Reader - Quick Break Long Night

Genshin Men Taking You To Bed

Kaeya x Fem!Reader - Wedding Night Cuddles

Kisses with Genshin Characters

VALORANT

Valorant Agents when Being Tackled in a Hug

Valorant Agents After a Near Death Experience

Valorant Agents Being Jealous

Jett x Reader - Mere Deeper Cuts

Good Luck Kisses with Valorant Agents

Skye x Fem!Reader - Nature of Love

Yoru x Fem!Reader - Prince from an Another Dimension

Secret Relationship with Sova

CHAINSAW MAN

Aki Hayakawa Domestic Headcanons

Aki, Denji, Power, Makima + Sitting in Their Lap

Aki, Denji, Power, Makima Kissing Headcanons

Aki, Denji, Power, Makima Red Flag Headcanons

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

Bungou Stray Dogs Men + Kisses

Mentorship with Fukuzawa, Dazai and Ranpo

Bungou Stray Dogs Men when You're Drunk

Daizai, Chuuya and Nikolai Getting Work Out Kisses

Surprising Bungou Stay Dogs Men

YUUKOKU NO MORIARTY

Married Life with Fred Porlock

Yuumori Men + Where They Like to Kiss You

Reuniting with James Bonde

STAR WARS

Helping Reva

Rex x Fem!Reader - The Caring Captain

Obi-Wan Kenobi Reacting to You Being Pregnant

The Bad Batch as Husbands

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader - Yearning and Burning Cold

Shoto Todoroki Taking Care of you While You're Sick

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x Fem!Reader - Empty Classroom

Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader - Often so Angry but so Soft

VANITAS NO CARTE

Teasing Vanitas During a Party

General Angst Headcanons with Vanitas

Spending the Night with Vanitas

First Date with Vanitas

Teasing Vanitas Headcanons

UNCHARTED

Rivals to Lovers with Nathan Drake

Nathan Drake Finding Out You're Pregnant

Injured Nathan Drake Headcanons

Nathan Drake Meeting an Ex

Best Friends to Lovers With Nathan Drake

Giving Birth to Nathan's Baby

Nathan Drake Rescues You

Dating Nathan Drake

RISE OF THE TMNT

Donatello With an Insomniac S/O

Sharing a Bed with Leonardo and Donatello

First Kiss and Angst with the TMNT brothers

Hand-holding Headcanons with Leonardo and Donatello

General Dating Headcanons with Leonardo and Donatello

Leonardo x Kitsune!Reader

Donatello Not Wanting Contact

THE LAST OF US

Rescued By Joel Miller

Domestic Headcanons with Joel Miller

True Love's Kiss From Abby Anderson

#masterlist #dc comics x reader #mcu x reader #the witcher x reader #hotd x reader #valorant x reader #chainsaw man x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #star wars x reader #bnha x reader #vnc x reader #uncharted x reader #rise of the tmnt x reader #yuumori x reader #tlou x reader

[kiritella]

Series: Sehnsucht, Chapter Seven: The Past

Pairings: Geralt x Teen!Reader, Yennefer x Teen!Reader

Warnings: !!! severe child abuse !!! very low self worth !!! Monsters, blood, symptoms of depression, rather descriptive injuries. This one is going to be uncomfortable guys.

Words: 4.9k

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

—Seven Years Ago, Before the Exile—

The first strike had been sudden and painful, but it wasn’t unexpected. They were always there. The second and third were simply annoying. But now, she curled further into a ball. Another kick barreled into her stomach as a rock hit her head from behind, and all she could hear was their stupid, annoying laughs. 

She bit her tongue and her fingers curled into fists in her hair. 

“Look at her,” someone mocked, “She’s so small.”

“She don’ even cry no more,” another said, and following it was a particularly harsh kick to her lower back. 

“‘Is kinda dis’ppointin’.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, gots me, grab ‘er hair!”

She twisted and yanked away as a hand dug into her hair, pulling her up onto her knees. She glared through the small group of boys and girls. They weren’t much older than her, but they were just like their fathers, she thought, wretched and stupid. 

“You know, my pa was tellin’ me about these things, us…witter…Witchers! That be what it was. They s’pposed ta kill monsters and stuffs.”

“Yeah! I heard ‘bout them!”

“Pa said there was one in Ban Gleán! He carries two swords!” 

“Really?!” 

“Maybe he’s coming to take care of you,” one of the boys sneered and poked her cheek. She growled and snapped her teeth at him. He jumped back and scowled. She relished in the glimpse of fear that glimmered in his eyes. 

“I bet they make ‘em hurt too, when they kill ‘em,” he said. 

“I heard they cut off their hands and feet and let ‘em bleed out!” 

“My pa said that they skin them alive to make wicked potions! They are wicked folk. Freaks mama said.”

They laughed, and one of them, the short, stubby one with a mole on his lip, leaned down in front of her. “I bet they’d make you hurt real bad, witch. There isn’ta kind of monster like a witch. That’s what my mama says. Bet you’d make a good wicked potion.”

Sneering, the girl spat, and the glob landed right in his eye. He shouted and fell back on his rear, rubbing it away.

“She spat me in tha eye!” he cried, but all of them were startled silent when she started laughing. Muddy and bruised, a trail of blood seeping from her split lip, her blue eyes lit up as she stared through him. She smiled and laughed.

The boy screamed. “Get her! Get her ‘fore she cast a spell! She spat—she gonna make me blind!”

The others began to kick again, and she fell back to the ground and huddled into a ball. 

“Witch!”

“Don’t let her talk!”

“You gonna be whipped for that!”

And they continued until she could no longer hold up her hands over her face, until she did start to cry. Until at last, she whimpered. Only then were they satisfied. The boy spat on her as they began to walk away and left her in the dirt. 

She stayed there until the pain began to ease. Slowly, she got up to her feet and dusted off her dress. There was a hole in the elbow of the garment now, and she frowned. Her mother would be displeased.

Without a sound, she continued on her original mission: leave the gates and play in the forest. There wasn’t anyone actually guarding these gates, never had been, and no one was around besides those other kids. They were done with her now, though. She clenched her fists as a burning enveloped her eyes and she sniffled.

The gates swung open against her forceful shove, and she stalked off into the woods. It never really mattered were she was going, as long as it wasn’t in the village. No one there was very kind. Besides, the trees were prettier from this side of the wall. And no one threw rocks at the birds, and there were more ladybugs. The best of it all, though, was no one else played out there. Their parents didn’t like them playing near the river because of all the sharp rocks. She actually like them. They were pointy and weird. 

Trudging along, she grimaced as an ache overtook her chest. She hated it not only because it made her eyes burn with tears and her throat swell up in knots, but because it was stupid. She was what she was, and she didn’t want to cry about it, even if Witchers looked for her. She would not cry about it. She refused.

The river was higher than normal, she thought as she sat down beside the bank beneath a tree. She watched it flow, rushing and dangerous, and smiled. She didn’t fight it as her eyes grew heavy, she didn’t try and move further away from the rapid shores. She didn’t really care, and so sleep—peaceful, painless sleep—overcame her. At last, she was content. 

She liked sleep, which others thought was strange. It was easier, and calmer. No one talked to her, and she didn’t have to hide from anyone. No, they would leave her alone. Everything was better when the world was darkened and she could dream. After all, her dreams didn’t hurt so much. Waking up was the dreadful part of it all. 

She was brought into this dreadful state of waking from the peace by a hand grabbing hold of her ankle. The very moment her eyes opened, she screamed.

Gangly and bare skinned with pale white eyes, a creature so vividly disgusting pulled her leg toward its sharp teeth, hauling her small body easily toward the river. She kicked and screamed, her foot landing in its eye and it howled. It was unlike anything she had ever heard, and with this croak and mangled scream it fell onto its side. 

She scrambled to get to her feet but managed only two steps before the thing lunged forward and grabbed her again. The thing had fins along its back, ears like fans spreading to the back of its head. She gagged at the smell, like the scum of the river had mutated with rotting flesh.

Its sharp claws tore her dress as it dug into her legs once again, and this time, she could not kick it off. It hissed and groaned as she screamed. The water dripped off it and onto her as she slapped and pushed away its crooked face. Its mouth opened wide for her arm, baring its teeth like a starved animal. With a broken cry, she closed her eyes. The thing croaked and gurgled, and she waited for the bite—the pain.

There was a sharp hiss, like that of metal, before the weight of the thing collapsed onto her. Frightened, she didn’t dare to open her eyes even as she struggled. She did scream though, as a hand gripped her arm and the weight was thrown off of her. 

“Ack! Settle—settle down, kid, it’s dead,” a deep voice started, and she snapped her eyes open. “It’s dead!” 

Her whole body trembled uncontrollably as she looked at the man kneeling in front of her. He was big, and he held a sword, one that was dripping in strange blood. His hair was white and his nose was weird. She was now too focused on his eyes, though, to notice the dead creature not a foot away from her. His eyes were yellow—no, they were golden, and excessively strange.

“Are you alright?” he asked. She took a moment, thinking deeply about the question. “Are you hurt?”

Looking down at her hands, she didn’t see anything wrong with them, but her leg hurt so bad she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t have to say anything though, because the man looked at the torn edge of her dress and pushed aside the fabric. He grimaced, and once she saw, she did too. A large cut split her leg open from her ankle to her knee. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he nodded, seemingly to himself, but when he reached out to her, she flinched. Her head turned sharply away and toward the creature, and the blood drained from her face. 

“What…” she started, voice tense and gravely from the lack of consistent use. “What is it?”

“A Drowner, a monster of sorts,” he said. “It’s dead now.”

Her heart sank in her chest as it began to beat wildly. The pounding resonated in her ears and she could feel it all the way down into her toes. Her lips trembled as she stared at the dead Drowner. Is that what a monster was?

Stiffly, she turned back to the man who still knelt in front of her, his sword still drawn and not but a foot away from her. It was here she noticed he had two swords, one with a metal wolf’s head within its pommel. It was similar to the one captured in silver dangling from his neck. A Witcher.

She didn’t flinch this time when he reached out. There didn’t seem to be a point anymore, a reason to look away. He was a Witcher, he killed monsters…it was simple. She didn’t know what to think when his gloved hand rested on her arm and rubbed up and down along her skin. All she could recognize was that it was gentle. She was grateful for that much. 

“Do you live in the village?” he asked. 

She nodded. He nodded once again to himself before pulling out a rag from a leather pocket on his belt. It was old and tattered, but she quickly realized why it was red when he swiped it over his blade. He cleaned off the blood before he sheathed his sword over his shoulder. 

“Can you walk?” he asked again and was again met with silence. Sighing, his lips pressed into a thin line before he reached out to her. He carefully lifted her up and pulled her against him, standing as he did. Her hands gripped at his leather jerkin as her whole body began to shake, her eyes wide and terrified. 

“It’s alright…you’re safe,” he said. Something in his voice was defeated. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You won’t?” she asked in a broken whisper. 

“I won’t…” he thought for a moment, and seemingly finding the words, said, “I only kill monsters.”

She didn’t know what she felt then, something light and warm, but it was so terribly overwhelming. The knot swelled so tightly in her throat she began to cry—sob, really. Her head buried itself into his shoulder, her little hands clutched him tightly around his neck. She cried even as he repositioned her and wrapped his arm over her back, his hand cradling her head to keep her close. 

Geralt didn’t say much, but his hold was careful and snug, and he didn’t let go as they walked. His words were on constant repeat in her thoughts, though, over and over and over and over. He wouldn’t hurt her because he only killed monsters.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly when her cries had settled a bit. 

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“You’re a Witcher?”

“I am,” he said heavily.

She smiled as her head peeked up out of his shoulder. Though he didn’t smile in return exactly, his lips twitched, and she thought it was enough. His eyes were also softer than she had ever seen before, though heavy. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like…well, like she was normal.

“You have really pretty eyes, Witcher Geralt.”

“...” he raised his brows, looking at her strangely and adjusting her in his arms. “So do you.”

“Really?” she asked, lighting up. Something stirred in her chest as her smile grew wide. “Do I?” 

He grunted with a short nod and she giggled suddenly, resting her head against his shoulder once more, perfectly content to remain there for the rest of their journey.

“Witcher Geralt?” she said after several minutes of walking in silence. 

“What is it?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome…”

“Did—” she stopped herself, trailing off as the gates of the village formed beyond the treeline.

“What is it?”

“Did the monster suffer?”

“...” the Witcher was silent. “No. I prefer to make a quick kill.”

She smiled again, and hummed. “That’s good.”

The Witcher looked at her with a strange gaze, but he said nothing more as they approached the village. He carried her through the town, speaking to people about her until he found her mother. As he spoke to her mother, he set her on the ground. 

She swiftly ran into her house, to which she missed the raised brow and amused chuckle he gave at her sudden ability to walk. He smiled more genuinely when she returned with a loaf of bread and dried meat. She shoved it in his face when he knelt down for her. 

“What is this for?” he asked, though he still accepted it. She shrugged with a small smile and tossed her hands about. He nodded. “Alright, well thank you. Try not to go back to the river okay? It is dangerous this time of year.”

She nodded quickly, and he stood, returning to his conversation with her mother about how to clean a Drowner’s scratch. She sat down and watched him, even as the others passed them with strange looks, with something dreadful she didn’t wish to name. There wasn’t anyone who could have told her how much she would have regretted her decision. To sit there, to have given him bread…to have not died by the Drowner’s teeth. Even if the regret did fade away into something else entirely, this was the last day of anything familiar. 

She was later grateful that the last good thing she ever did there was to give a Witcher bread for his journey. That she didn’t waste the last act of kindness in that place on someone meaningless and despicable. She went to bed that night with a full stomach, a patched up leg, and blissfully unaware of the ill the next day would bring. 

One would think the child had suffered enough, that Destiny could not be so cruel to one as young as she. One would have thought humanity would kindle in one person’s heart to have seen her sleep peacefully. That her father would lend out a kind hand toward her. But, for all the things that should have been, nothing but violent distaste and hatred was born in the hearts of everyone who saw her. They knew the unnatural color of her eyes even if they were closed. They knew what laid beneath her skin and hid in her blood and bones. They knew of the chaos. And so, when dawn arose, and her father returned home in the bare sunlight, there was nothing but contempt to greet her when she opened her eyes once more. 

She didn’t know what was happening at first, but once she had been taken from her bed, she was marched out of the house. Only then did cold, sudden realization wash over her. A crowd formed around their home, but given her father was the alderman, it wasn’t this that made her heart sink. 

It was the drums. 

The beat echoed against the ground and into her bones, consistent as they shoved her toward the town center. They weren’t musical drums. They were ones used on a march, ones for war, only these she had only ever heard when someone was to be punished for breaking the law. And now, as her father pushed her forward and all eyes were on her, she knew. And she began to scream.

Her voice cracked as she began to beg and scream, trying to push back against her father’s grip, but he shoved her forward again and again. Her mother didn’t even raise her head to look at her. The drums grew louder.

As the last turn into the courtyard approached, she began to thrash. Her heart beat against her chest as they made it into the large arena. A single iron post stood in the center of the circular yard, surrounded by the rest of the villagers.

She began to shake uncontrollably as her wrists were forced against the pole and metal clasps were braced over them. The roaring crowd settled as a man stepped forward. He looked down at her with a scowl, and straightening his back in self-importance, began in a loud voice.

“For two crimes has this witch been called to the stand for punishment. Though accepted due to her prestigious relation to the alderman, she had committed unforgivable sins and tainted the blessings of tolerance she had been given. For this reason, the alderman has released her to me today. First, for having left the village at midday for weeks, this witch beguiled the monsters of the forest and brought them to our very borders! Giant pests have plagued the village, rats in the storehouses, monstrous birds have taken the chickens! And now! Now there are Drowners! She has brought them to the very waters we gather from, that we use to bathe the children!” 

He paused here as the crowd erupted in discontent. Her eyes widened as the man turned to look at her, and for her life, she could not see any color. His eyes were like empty, bottomless pits. He continued. “For the sin of consorting with monsters, she will receive ten lashes from the lamia.”

Her sobs fell on deaf ears, and as she opened her mouth, pleas tumbling from her lips, the man stepped forward and struck her so hard her ears rang.

“Be silent, Witch!” he screamed, his spit spraying over her face. “Your spells and deceptions will not hold in my presence.”

She continued to cry, but she did not dare to speak again as the man unhooked the lamia from his belt. She closed her eyes, because perhaps, if she didn’t look, she would wake up. Part of her knew, though, there wouldn’t be any waking up, this wasn’t a nightmare. It was this part of her mind that drew her fingers into a fist, pulling them near the metal clasps and ducked her head low to protect them from the wayward strokes of the spiked whip. It was this part of her mind that didn’t flinch as someone tore open the back of her gown to expose the target. Old marks from her first whipping remained on her back in scars. Though, then it had only been a couple of lashes. 

She grit her teeth and tears slipped over her cheeks as the crowd held their breath.

As the whip cracked and echoed in the courtyard, she screamed so piercingly the ground stirred beneath her. For ten lashes, no one stepped forward. For ten blood-curdling screams, no one dared to stop the punishment. Not a single person there, besides perhaps ones who had been where she was, even thought to wonder if this treatment was harsh. And when ten had passed, her mind fell into a deep haze.

Her breaths came in pants, harsh and broken with cries, her vision coming in and out as blood seeped from the open wounds in her back. She could barely hear the man speaking as he rolled up the whip and hooked it back on his belt, blood dripping from the spikes. 

“For the second crime…distasteful mutants, abominations! … Sanctity of the village and for the others who may dare…company…to protect those who associate with her! That they may not be deceived…for the sin of associating and conspiring with a Witcher, she will bare the Witcher’s signet for the rest of her days…all will know…loyalties of…” 

She barely registered the crowd tossing rotten food at her, or how they parted like the sea for another man, in his hands a long iron rod. Its end smoked, a ring encompassing a large “W” and as it drew near to her face, immense heat washed over her and she trembled. She very quickly became aware as horror filled her to the brim, and yet, she was unable to move. Her back tortured her in so many ways she was incapable of rising, and her hands were too weak to fight against the chains. 

As searing hot metal was pressed into the left shoulder of her back, she screamed. Time slowed and all there was was pain pain pain. It was all consuming, and the worst thing she had ever felt. The scent of cooked flesh invaded her senses, the sear and bubble of her skin beneath the rod. She was branded for all to know and see, and she, in that moment, hated everything she was. 

She hated that to them, she was nothing more than a bare, gangly, pale-eyed monster that sprung up from rivers to eat children. She wondered if they knew she would have torn herself apart if it meant they would look kindly at her. That if it was her eyes they hated, she would have ripped them out and laid them in their open palms if only they had asked. But she was a monster, and it was the only thing she was, and the only thing she would ever be. She could not carve out her soul for them, for she did not know how. 

“You are not a monster,” a deep, gravely voice said, and she could not define it otherwise. Though, as it spoke, the pain lessened, and she could no longer hear the sound of her own voice. Nothing moved, and she didn’t even know if she was breathing.

“I am what they say I am,” she thought. 

“What you are is a child.”

“Even monsters can be children.”

“...will you let me convince you?”

“How?”

“Let me take you from here, from this place. You will never need to return.”

She almost wanted to laugh. “What should I pay you?”

“...” the voice paused. “Will you change when the time comes, to become something more than what you have seen in all your life? To be better than the only thing you have known?”

Desperate, the child agreed. Away, behind the crowd, a face took shape. It was like stone and smoke, but in all that it was, it was not frightening. No, it took the shape of a young man with earthen skin, and he looked at her with kindness and desperation. He looked to her as a hand reaching out, a kind eye, and nothing could have prevented her from looking away as he came near to her. The people were still, unmoving in the midst of their breath, as if time itself had stopped entirely. The man pressed through them like smoke. 

Whispering, the creature knelt in front of her. His smile was uneven. “I am D’ao, one of many, a keeper of the Elemental Planes. An Earth Genie, in human myth. By request, I’ll bind myself to you, but not in chains, for all chains can be broken. I will make you the gate for the four planes, and through you, all keepers will be able to pass. In return, we will be your source.”

The girl’s lower lip began to tremble. “I don’t understand.”

“In time, you will. I will explain everything.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No more than a prick, little one. Certainly no more than which you have already suffered.”

She nodded. “And we can leave?”

D’ao nodded. 

“Please…” she whispered, broken.

“Then do not be frightened,” he said, standing. He grew to the size of a great thundercloud. D’ao encapsulated the village, and his voice grew loud as the ground beneath her knees began to tremble. A spell of Elder words erupted from his mouth and descended upon the entire village, her chest as the center on which they all collided. The earth groaned and shook under the weight of each word, and her knees sank further into the ground until the soil had buried her legs within it. As the last words of the binding were spoken, D’ao looked down at her from the heights of his monstrosity of dust and smoke and smiled.

“It will be alright,” he said. 

All at once, time resumed. D’ao was gone, his cloud dissipated as though he was never really there, but a fragment opened inside her mind. People moved, the searing pain in her shoulder returned, and she breathed in once more. As she screamed against the burning of her skin, the earth around her knees cracked open and erupted like the thrust of lava from a volcano. The crowd flew back and collapsed as the ground within the courtyard shook violently.

Houses trembled and groaned, their roofs caved in, unable to withstand the earthquake. She continued to scream until the ground cratered beneath her, until the very clasps she was chained with snapped loose and no one was left standing. 

There was a loud, continuous ringing in her ears when her lips sealed back upon themselves, her lungs deprived of oxygen and her throat raw. The clasps that had bound her slipped off her wrists as the dust began to settle. The villagers began to stir, standing up to their feet as they looked down at her from the edges of the crater that had taken the entire courtyard, her at its center. She looked up at them as blood dripped from her back, as her skin bubbled and blistered. Each and every person that had been in that yard stood back up, and as shouts and murmurs erupted amongst them, as the fear grew, a strong sensation filled her head and traveled around her spine. 

“You let them live,” D’ao said in her thoughts, and the surprise was evident in his voice. And even as they looked at her, a decision made up in their thoughts, all she could think about was the Drowner by the river and the terror that had filled her when she saw it. 

“Are my eyes frightening?” she asked as the villagers descended the crater in a raging mob. They all argued, but exile was settled. For if the child, the creature, was capable of such things through pain, what would it do when faced with death? 

“...” D’ao sighed, and she thought it sounded sad. “No, child.”

“But they do frighten people…” she said, and a large hand gripped her shoulder as another tugged at her arm. They hauled her weak body up out of the crater, and once they broke the precipice, a rain of rotten food pelted her. She didn’t really feel it, didn’t really see it. The world was a blur, and the sounds lost in an ocean of ringing haze. She didn’t feel anything, actually.

“They do…”

“Why?”

“They can’t stand the monster within themselves, so they put their monster within someone else.”

“Why me?” she asked as they reached the edge of the village, the gate she had passed through so many times and for some unknown reason, always returned through. A woman—Valeska—knelt in front of her with a small dagger sheathed within a leather strap and wrapped the belt around her waist. The girl barely heard her when she spoke about going east. 

“Because you are different, little keeper, and people fear what they do not understand,” he said. The doors of the village gate were torn off their hinges to make way for the raging mob, and she was thrust out. 

“D’ao?” she asked as she collided with the ground, the skin of her knees tearing and small rocks dug into the palms of her hands. She could hardly keep her weight on her arms.

“Yes?”

“I never want to come back here.”

“Okay. I won’t make you.”

“...” her lips began to tremble once more. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course. I am your guardian now…I will be right here.”

As she turned her back on the village, she smiled grimly as tears welled up in her eyes. The people screamed, but she did not hear them. They tossed food, but she could not feel or smell it. It was as though the entire world was drowned out beneath the ocean, and she alone stood at the edge of the endless expanse to observe, but never to be within. 

“Thanks, D’ao.”

“Always, En’ca minne (little love / darling).”

—Currently—

The more her surroundings grew familiar, the less she could feel of the warm remnants of Kaer Morhen. The less she could see of Yennefer and Geralt and Ciri. The more everything seemed like a distant, wonderful dream. It was bitter, and she hated the emptiness the dream left behind. After all, it was only a matter of time before they saw what she was, wasn’t it? 

It was a strange thing being back home after all this time. She was not the same child she had once been, but there was a lingering trace of herself here. A part of her inexplicably bound to the trees and soil, the water and air. She had grown in many ways, in mind and magic and age. It was unquantifiable, but still, a part of her would never be able to leave this place. 

She shivered and clenched her jaw when the western outskirts of Ban Gleán came into view. The familiar wooden fence around the small village, the rising, stubby watchtowers useless and falling apart. It reeked, as always, on this side, of urine and dung, and something more now—something spoilt. The river flowed loudly in the distance, beating against jagged rocks within its flow. She smiled. She would have smiled still if a Drowner’s croak had been with it. 

Approaching, she shoved open the front gates, and for the first time in seven years, she stepped foot into the one place she had sworn she would never see again.

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