Tumgik
#yennefer x reader
witchers x maleficent!/fae!reader
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summary: how witcher characters would react to someone having maleficent type horns/wings and magic
notes: got this out just in time for the new season phew
warnings: gn!reader, lambert the middle schooler, jaskier's composing
tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @lu-in-the-library @sunndust (msg me to be added!)
based on this request | masterlist | requests are OPEN!
Geralt
He’s mostly just praying that fate isn’t throwing another curveball at him
Sureeee he’ll spend time with you!! (his fingers are crossed and he’s praying let them be normal let them be normal
Will end up totally accepting you, but he doesn’t love the attention that comes from being a witcher in the company of a fae
He secretly adores your wings
Jaskier
Immediately in song-writing mood
Will make up things about your life to fabricate contents for his ballads
Won’t treat you very different from his other ~weird~ friends
Loves loves loves the attention that comes with it (read: basks in it like the sun)
Yennefer
Yen is fascinated
The academic in her wants to tell her colleagues
And the girl who was all alone and abandoned in her absolutely adores you
You’d do good to make sure that she’s on your side, or she might sell you out
Definitely wants a piece of your magic either way
Ciri
Poor ciri
Eugh she just wants some friends
That don’t die…
She loves your horns and wings
Definitely adores you for also being *different* and having your own magic thing going on
Eskel
He adores your wings
If there is a wing care routing, please let this man do it
Otherwise, he might invent a conditioner-potion for your wings
Don’t scare him in the beginning though, or you may get stabbed
Lambert
Has the reaction of a seventh-grader
Might literally go woahhhhhh
Big hater, but not against you
Will protect you, but will also ask you if you can carry stuff with your horns constantly
Yeah becoming a christmas tree-esque creature may be a con
Coen
Coen honestly just enjoys a helping hand
Your magic will in fact be contributing to his work
Tbf he also makes sure you don’t get killed by angry farmers
The whole thing starts off as a symbiotic relationship but will turn into a friendship (if not more hehe)
Vesemir
Bro does not trust you
Thots and prayers girldude
Oh you have horns and wings? LIKE A MONSTER??
Unless one of his witchers (read:children) introduces you to him, he may attempt murder
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bumblesimagines · 4 months
Note
you were wrong about everything.
we were never meant to be together.
Yennefer
you were wrong about everything.
we were never meant to be together.
pronouns: they/them, gender neutral
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"And what did we learn today, Kaspar?" You asked the boy teasingly as you wrapped bandages around the cut on his forearm. His dirt-covered cheeks puffed out and reddened with embarrassment. By far your favorite patient, Kaspar had a habit of getting into all sorts of trouble that always ended with him sitting in your shop seeking treatment for a bump or cut. 
"I shouldn't take Father's horse without permission." He muttered and you chuckled at the dejected look on his face. He'd managed to get away with falling off a horse with only minor bruises and a cut, but the scare had frightened his poor mother. Nodding with a smile, you straightened up and dipped your hands into the bucket of water, rinsing it clean of dirt and smudges of blood. You dried them off with a rag and fetched a basket of baked goods. His eyes lit up and he eagerly took it from your hands, shuffling through it until he found the pie. 
"Remember to share!" You called out him as he shoved some of the pie into his mouth and scurried out of your shop. With a soft laugh, you began collecting things off the table and putting them back in their rightful place. The front door creaked loudly, signaling someone else had entered the shop. You ensured everything appeared tidy before rounding the corner and putting on your best smile, only for it to drop immediately at the sight of the raven-haired mage. 
"(Y/N)," She greeted softly, unusual for the coldhearted woman who'd taken your heart and shattered it without thinking twice. She looked the same yet different all at the same time. Her vibrant violet eyes looked softer, gentler. The furrow in her brow that had once seemed permanent had vanished and she even appeared to seem... meek. 
"Why have you come crawling back to my doorstep?" 
"I wanted to see you again. I... I wanted to prove that you were wrong about everything. I've- I've changed." Yennefer spoke, her warm and hesitant voice unnerving. The last time you'd seen the mage, she'd been a force to be reckoned with, even without using her powers. Every move Yennefer made had always been calculated. Every word she uttered, every insult she spat, every spell she casted. Calculated and planned. And yet, standing there before your door, she looked out of place in her own body. 
"You've changed? You, Yennefer of Vengerberg? The same woman who told me I'd been a hopeless fool to believe there'd ever be a world where she ever loved me? The same woman who looked down on me for choosing to help people over slithering around a court?" You scoffed softly and her head bowed in shame and regret. "What was I wrong about, Yennefer? Are you no longer a heartless, selfish bitch who's going to die alone and forgotten?" 
"(Y/N)-"
"I don't believe for a second you've come here to prove anything. We were never meant to be together. Anything between us has long died along with any affection I held for you. If you've come here because you need something, I suggest you go looking elsewhere, Yennefer of Vengerberg."
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cas-kingdom · 10 months
Note
PLS. GERALT TEACHING AKELA TO ICE SKATE 😩
Find the OC version of this fic here.
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The air had been cold all morning, but somehow it was more so as you looked out across the frozen lake. Giggles carried towards you by the wind, soft laughter and teasing remarks from Ciri as she taught Yennefer to ice skate. One part of you longed to go and join them, but the other—
"Y/N."
You glanced over your shoulder. Geralt leant against the axe he'd been cutting wood with. His head tilted, one hand at his hip, he offered a knowing smile. "You can join them, you know."
He had already told you as such, so he knew you knew. Nonetheless, stubbornness ran through your veins like blood, and when your mind was set on something, it was set in stone. Though, Geralt had always considered himself adept at breaking that stone. He had an axe now, after all.
You sniffed and brushed your hair behind your ears, a useless act considering the winter breeze. You turned back to the lake and watched as Yennefer yelled out and slipped, grabbing onto Ciri with a flurry of giggles.
You were long over your aversion to the princess's relationship with Geralt, but this...feeling you had towards Ciri and Yennefer was unfamiliar and unanticipated. The two were obviously close. Ciri seemed to have that effect on people.
"No," you said eventually, "it's alright. Ciri has my skates, anyway."
Geralt shrugged. He dropped the axe and walked towards the lake. "We don't need skates. Come." He stopped by the bank and reached a hand behind him expectantly. When you didn't grasp it, he turned to see you stood in the same spot, unblinking. Geralt dropped his arm and sighed. "Y/N, you love to skate. Come here."
You didn't vocally decide not to listen, but Geralt was well versed in the behaviour of the girl he'd raised. When you crossed your arms over your chest, not defiantly, more unwillingly, he dropped his arm and let a small smile slip onto his face.
"You remember when I first taught you to skate?" he asked, stepping one foot on the lake. He tested it, his boot slipping easily across the smooth surface. "You were four."
You couldn't help but breathe a short laugh. "You mean I taught you."
The Witcher stepped onto the lake, using his arms for balance. He skidded a bit, then turned to face you. "I slipped over once," he reminded you.
"And used four-year-old me to keep you up."
Geralt hummed morosely. Admittedly, that had not been his finest moment. Still. He reached his arm out again and opened his hand. "If you are so good, come and prove it."
There was no hint of competitiveness in his voice, just a discreet encouragement, and you took it with a long sigh and a reluctant smile, trudging over to him and taking his hand. He helped you onto the lake, allowing you to grip his sleeve as you found your footing, and noted fondly that said grip did not slacken even as you both slid slowly along the outskirts of the lake.
Ciri and Yennefer were still far out in the middle, slipping and tripping and laughing until their hearts' content. Somehow, Geralt doubted you wanted to be close to them right now, and not because of your refusal to leave the safety of the lake's edge. He wouldn't discuss it with you until he felt you needed it. He had an idea of what was bothering you, but as long as it wasn't dispiriting you as much as it had when your disapproval had surrounded him, he was sure it would fix itself.
You let go of his sleeve eventually, eyes fixed on the ice as you slid along it. Geralt turned so he was gliding backwards, hands at the ready in case his apparently oh-so-professional child needed some support. You were determined, though, your lack of skates doing nothing to thwart you, and Geralt felt himself relaxing and enjoying the—
"Oh, fuck." The moment he took a single wrong step, everything went to shit. Balance long forgotten, Geralt went into panic mode, arms pinwheeling, feet fighting for traction. You panicked too at first, instinctively attempting to launch forward to catch him lest he fall straight forward, but when you figured out he was in no imminent danger, you straightened with a snort.
"Geralt, you—Geralt—Geralt, you're making it worse!" Your words arrived between barrels of laughter as Geralt continued in the reclamation of his balance. He looked like a newborn deer, its long legs unused to the ground beneath it. You had tears in your eyes and when a burst of hysterics echoed across the lake, you realised Ciri and Yennefer had noticed the spectacle too.
Your laughter died when Geralt did indeed fall forward, though from the look on his face you were sure it was purposeful. Before you could utter a single squeal of anticipation, he lunged towards you, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down beneath him as he fell. His hands went behind your head to shield the impact but the wind was knocked from you all the same, even more so when the Witcher's tickling hands found your sides.
"Hey!" You could feel the laughter-induced tears on your cheeks freezing, the harsh wind almost as cold as the ice beneath you. Geralt made quick work of boxing you between his arms, poking and prodding and scribbling his fingers across every spot he knew you possessed.
"You may be better than me at ice skating," he ground out breathlessly, "but here is something I will always best you at."
"Stop ihit, you bihig lump!" You pushed at his face and Geralt grunted with his newly blocked vision. Seconds later, a heavy force ploughed into his back and he was knocked off course.
"Attack!" Ciri yelled. She grabbed piles of snow from the bank and shoved as much as her hands would allow down his jacket.
Geralt howled. "Fucking fuck, Cirilla!"
Yennefer leaned down and extended an arm towards you, still on your back and struggling for breath. You hesitated but took it. You stood up slowly, slipping once or twice, but made it safely into Yennefer’s arms. Yennefer held you close, a grin on her face as she watched the princess and the Witcher wrestle, and you found yourself leaning into her. Yennefer leant her chin on your head, and you relaxed. As always, there was never a need to worry.
Your family was too tight-knit to ever leave anyone out.
Witcher Masterpost
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mandos-things · 2 years
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Cold - Geralt of Rivia
Relationship: Geralt x gn!reader
Warnings: mild swearing, nothing but fluff
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Gif by @kh-ael
~~~~~
"You're chattering."
"Am not."
Jaskiers snores ripped through the silence of the forest.
You, Geralt and Jaskier made camp not far from the main road. The night air was light, relentless. Despite the crackling of the fire, the air tore right through your covers and into your very bones.
"Mm. Suppose its a squirrel then. Must be dearly regretting not buying the extra skins their wise friend had suggested they buy only two towns over."
"F-fuck off," you shivered. You would've laughed at his Geralt-like attempt at a joke if you weren't so fucking freezing...
"Come here," the gruffness of his voice slices through your regret-riddled thoughts.
"Wh-what?"
He deeply sighs, and moves to hold open his thick fur coat. An invitation. One that any other day you would've had the sense to question.
But you would sacrifice your dignity for warmth tonight.
So you shuffled, albeit clumsily to where he sat, just next to a fallen log. You pretend you don't see the little smirk he makes as you trip and shake your way over to him.
"A-Asshat," you huff as you move to lay down, his arm moving to rest over your waist once you've settled.
You breathe a relieved sigh at the heat. His warmth hugged you tightly, shivers dying down with every stroke of his hand along your spine.
"Mmmthankyou," you sleepily murmur. He kisses the top of your head in response.
"We'll stock up again tomorrow."
His other hand rests lovingly along the side of your face.
"Rest now, little one. I've got you."
~~~~~
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lexysmexy5 · 11 months
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Witcher Headcanons fluff
For all of you witcher fans here are some fluff headcanons for all reader genders.
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For Geralt x reader:
He loves when you talk to him when he is out looking for monster contracts, he most of the time never talk back or seems bored by your talking but he does love your voice, it makes him feel less lonely and different.
He loves to play with your hair (for those who have no hair or don’t like hair he will rub your head softly)
He will sometimes grab your hand and rub circles on them with his gloved hands he does tend to wish he had no gloves on because he loves how your hands feel.
For Lambert x reader:
Lambert is very VERY protective and will do anything to keep you from harm and let’s say if he finds anyone eyeing you in a way he doesn't like, you have to stop him from bashing the person’s head in or a sword in their body.
He hates taking a bath unless you come with him.
He doesn't ever tell you but when you rub his shoulders after he comes home (or at Kaer Morhen) either in the tub or in your guy’s room he absolutely loves it you know how to get every knot out of his shoulders.
For Yennefer x reader:
She will buy you anything (or steal) that you find you like or whatever she thinks that would look good on you.
Yennefer loves when you sing (or read) to her she loves hearing your voice.
She wants to be next to you at all times if possible and she will hold your hand a lot.
For Jaskier (Dandelion) x reader:
He goes to a lot of performances and loves it when he sees you in the crowd listening to him sing.
He will always hide his nervousness in the relationship with humor and jokes (and you can’t forget his nervous hand gestures) but he always trusts that you will work things out together.
He loves when you sing with him (or listen) he talks and sings a lot being the enter of attention but he never forgets to give you the spotlight at times and let you shine and get the attention, not all the time though after all he is your damsel in destress.
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I wonder if you want a part 2 because I will do it. I will also do smut/spicy headcanons too. I am VERY new to posting on Tumblr I have been on here for a while but never really posted too much. Have a great day or night wherever or whenever you are reading this. 
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kiritella · 7 months
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Pairings: Geralt x Teen!Reader, Yennefer x Teen!reader, Geralt x Yennefer (Sides: Coen, Vesemir, Ciri and Lambert)
Summary: After seven years of mistrust, fear, and nearly complete isolation from the Human race, a seventeen year old girl has the chance to repay the life-debt she owes a white-haired Witcher. Only, upon recovery, he seems determined to save her again, only this time, from herself.
Warnings: Blood, canon-level violence, death, monsters, magic, child abuse, child death, misogyny, racism, low self-worth, implied concerns about suicide (not deeply talked about), talks of war.
Words: ~34k
Status: Complete
Chapters: [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5], [Part 6], [Part 7], [Part 8], [Part 9].
Sehnsucht Pinterest Board
Disclaimer: Almost all the lore about Genies and Gatekeepers in this series are made up by myself and is not a reflection of what is represented in the books. I stuck to what I know is factual, but embellished and added a lot. Please do not let my characters and lore be a representation of what is in the novels because it will be inaccurate!
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nnightskiess · 9 months
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everytime you leave, part four
₊° - 𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.
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everytime you leave, masterlist
☾ ⋆*·゚:⋆*·゚:⠀ *⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3
The moment Tissaia walked up to the distraught girl, sitting in the remnants of what had been her village, the mage had tried her hardest to close her heart off, to just treat her with a stiff lip and a harsh word, for it was the way mages learned best, in her opinion. Then her footsteps had carefully led her closer, the stench of burned flesh, wood and leather making her inhale with tiny puffs breaths. The moment the young girl had felt a shadow loom over her, she'd looked up with a tear-stained face, eyes red and big and filled with terror. With her tattered clothes barely still covering her body and her skin smeared with dirt, blood and ash, she looked half-alive. And perhaps, going by the look on the girl's face, she would have preferred being among the dead. But it was what was in the palm of her hands that had made Tissaia suck in a breath.
Tissaia swiftly looked around the scorched earth and saw the faint flickering of melted-down armour here and there lying among the people the soldiers had killed before coming to their own demise. There was no normal fire that could have melted a soldier's armour the way it had. No, it demanded another kind of fire, one with flames so heated that the warmth could be felt all the way to the Blue Mountains of Hertch.
With her mouth slightly agape from the shock, she quickly knelt down in front of the girl and rather harshly pulled her closer by her wrists. She turned the girl's palms open to her view, but let them go almost right after. She looked at her own leathered gloves, which had started to melt, leaving a horrible smell behind to mix with the stench of death all around them. Dazed, she stood back up almost immediately, sparing the young girl in front of her another quick glance, only to now be met with a determined and stern expression from the girl. As if she knew what she had done to her.
The realisation of the severity of the situation came as quickly as the heat that suddenly warmed her face and made droplets of sweat dance against her forehead. But Tissaia stayed put, straightened her posture and lifted her chin. She had made up her mind.
With her hand outstretched, she voiced, "Come with me."
The fear and distrust returned to the young girl's face as she stared at Tissaia's hand, before her eyes went back up to the mage's face. The woman had her hair high up in an elegant style, with leathered gloves and boots and a dress hiding beneath a mantel she was sure costed more than her entire village could have afforded.
"Come," Tissaia tutted, sending her a derogatory glare, "Where else would you go now?"
The strange woman's words cut deep, and the girl had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling. It was as if the woman was taunting her with the look in her eyes. As if to say, who do you have left to wait around for?
"Or do you wish for them to find you when they come to see what's happened here?" Tissaia retreated her offered hand and looked down upon the girl, trying her best to not let the intrigue and sympathy show through her eyes. "Follow me." Tissaia turned on her heel, expecting the girl to stand up and follow her, like they always did.
"I would rather die." The young girl spat out her words with a certain kind of venom that surprised Tissaia.
She stopped and inspected the poor thing on the ground; the fabric around her stomach and hip had been caught by flames and revealed the nastiest burns on her skin. The girl sat shivering from her injuries but with her head held high nonetheless. Tissaia tilted her head, "Poor pup, if that didn't kill you, then you'll never die," Tissaia spoke, knowing the young girl had no idea of the knowledge the mage held, or what she'd just done either.
Tissaia looked around at the scorched bodies, "It seems you sacrificed a great deal to hone that power. It would be a waste to let it fizzle out with you. Now follow if you don't want any of this to happen again." Her finger pointed out the destruction around them.
The inner turmoil of the girl was hardly masked from her face. It was clear she was battling thoughts and worries and dealing with guilt and grief all at the same time. But Tissaia wasn't surprised to see the girl stumble to stand on her two feet, for she'd heard her thoughts and the decision made before she'd made the movement to follow. Hot angry tears fell out of her eyes and dropped onto her cheeks.
"And stop crying, there's no room for weakness at Aretuza."
Tissaia landed the first of what would be many blows to Y/N's thick skin, but she knew it was needed in order to make the young girl into a strong and resilient mage. If anything, perhaps the most renowned mage there would ever be, if Tissaia would play her cards right and keep her under her wing. However, she would keep the story of what had happened here, of how she'd burned her hands from a simple touch and how her gloves had melted from even standing near, a secret. For if the Continent learned of a living and breathing mage who had survived using fire magic, the young mage would be a dead woman walking.
*⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
Tissaia had been well aware that each and every step and choice that would be taken next, would have to be thought through in order for this to pan out well. From giving the girl the proper instructions to pairing her up with the right mages to fully hone and explore the depths of her magic. As she pulled the girl along through the cold and windy hallways of Artezua by her upper arm, her brain already racked with strategies and plots. But when a strangled sob escaped from the girl, she realised she was more than just a pawn for the Brotherhood. She was a young mage, hurting, grieving and perhaps utterly terrified, and Tissaia should have known better than to pluck her out of her life so harshly and dump her in her new one without any further explanation. Still, perhaps installing some fear would help keep the young mage quiet about what had happened, about what she could do. It will all be for the greater good, she had thought to herself, one day, the girl would look back and understand.
The minute the pair had left the burned-down village, the girl had been too exhausted to keep up her chaos, and the uneasy heat that she held around her had dissipated. Instead, silent tears started to fall at the realisation that everything would change. Still, the girl had held an everpresent frown on her face and her lips had snarled in hatred. Tissaia could feel the chaos bubbling beneath the girl's chest, even when weakened, and felt the power of it coursing through the young mage's veins. She knew exactly what to do with her.
Tissaia opened the door, led the young girl to her bed and turned back around, leaving no room for questions or coddling before she locked her inside. Immediately she could hear footsteps fast approaching before banging on the door echoed through the halls.
"Let me go, you vile bitch!"
So much for keeping her quiet, Tissaia thought, and immediately silenced the noise with a hushed spell. But three doors down, glancing between the tiniest crack of her door, young mage Yennefer of Vengerberg had seen it all.
*⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
Hours passed and had left your knuckles bruised and tattered from trying to find a way out. The stretching of your burning skin hurt and it was damp from infection, but no pain would ever be as horrible as the breaking of your heart. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, so you had taken to kicking the door instead, but when your body had taken over to scream in exhaustion, you had fallen to the floor. As if someone had sensed your surrender, soon the door opened again and a young woman appeared in the doorway, an almost painful apologetic smile on her face as she took you in. Her red hair bounced off her chest as she quickly bent down to your height, her hands outreached. You recoiled at her sudden movement but saw the pain in her eyes double with that reaction.
"I don't know what you have gone through, but I am so sorry that it's caused you such great pain. It's okay now, you're safe here, at Aretuza," Though she tried her best to make you feel at ease, you were wary, "I'm Triss. Is it okay if I can touch your wounds to heal them?"
You glared at her outstretched hands as if the most dangerous insect of the Continent was crawling along her fingers. Heal you... what did that even mean? You'd heard of mages and their powers, but also heard of how they could manipulate the mind and the senses. Was this a trap? Would this woman let you do her bidding with just one touch of her fingers? You still weren't sure why the elegant but stern lady had found you and decided to take you back to her den full of witches. What were their plans for you?
You made a show to look behind and around her, then huffed, "Where are your bandages? Your salves and your ointments?"
The red-haired woman, Triss, only smiled uneasily, "I'm a mage, I use my chaos to heal, watch-" Her thumb hovered over the bruises on your knuckles as they disappeared slowly but surely, only itching slightly, "That was all. I can do it for all of your wounds, if you'd like."
A new wave of shivers crept up your spine at the heated burn of your wounds and you wiped a layer of sweat from your face. Glancing back down at your head, you realised there was no trace of the burn mark whatsoever, as if it hadn't even happened at all.
"It won't leave any scars, I promise," Triss reassured, sensing the unease.
"Then how will I remind myself what happened?"
Triss furrowed her brows," Wouldn't you like to forget?"
"Forget about what? My life? My family?" You raised your voice and pushed yourself to sit against the bed, away from the mage who clearly didn't understand at all. "What happened to them? What-" Suddenly, you stopped and looked up, "Did she send you?"
"Who?"
"That devilish hag?!"
Triss blinked rapidly and stumbled back at your tone, "Tissaia? What's she done to-"
"Thank you, Triss. You're needed elsewhere now." Tissaia loomed in the doorway, hands folded together and that same stiff lip on her face.
"But I haven't even-" Triss shut up and disappeared herself after just a look from her rectoress.
The ticking of Tissaia's heels echoed against your lonely room. She bend down and tightly gripped your chin in her hand, "Are you so bend on dying, weak pup?" She squeezed your chin, "Can't even accept help when it's offered to you?"
"I've learned that help is often offered only when one expects something in return." You did your best to keep your head high, despite the woman's efforts to pull your chin down.
"You're a clever girl, aren't you?" She let go and stood back, sending a half smirk your way before turning serious again. It was as if her eyes showed a sudden unease with the blow she was going to have to deal next, "So clever that you haven't even figured out that you were the one to burn your family to ashes. So naive," She tutted and shook her head in a derogative manner.
"What do you mean?" Your face paled even more at her statement, at what you had worried about but had pushed to the back of your mind during all the agonisingly long hours that had passed.
As if a flick had been switched in Tissaia, she smiled softly, "Oh sweet girl, you have no idea?" She watched the confusion on your face and continued, "There's a great deal of chaos rumbling beneath your skin, itching at it and travelling through the network of your veins. You just had your conduit moment today. They often happen when one's emotions are heightened, when one is in great distress or danger, for example."
"I'm a mage?" You stumbled out, not wanting to believe her but knowing that things suddenly started to make sense. From the unexplainable moments in your life to what had occurred hours ago.
"Some girls turn their siblings into pigs during a fight for their conduit moment, you just had to burn your whole village, didn't you?" The hostile tone returned, as if Tissaia couldn't let herself be softer with you than the others for longer than needed.
"I didn't! They pillaged and ransacked our village! Hurt the women and the children and killed the men. They were going to torch the place!"
"Yet you were the one to make it go boom."
"I wasn't- Surely I couldn't have-" Instead of granting you an answer or some explanation to help you order your thoughts, the woman kept silent to watch you connect the dots right in front of her. Your father had instructed the entire family to lock yourself up in the cellar, but when the pillagers had kicked down the door, slain your father and grabbed your youngest sibling and put a blade through them as if they were but a piece of meat, the only thing you could remember is seeing red. Then flames. Unrelenting tall flames. Then nothing, for a while, until Tissaia had stood in front of you to take your attention away from the destruction around you.
"Your disruption of chaos didn't just cause a ripple, it was a tidal wave," Frustrated, Tissaia grabbed your hands and opened your palms, "You hold a great power that can be dangerous to us all. The Continent will erupt in chaos if they know of your existence, for no young mage has ever lived to see another day after using fire magic. People will try and hunt you down. You are not meant to exist. Your chaos is destructive, it could start wars." She watched the horror on your face, "But it can end wars, too, only if you work on keeping your chaos bottled. But with your lack of control, I doubt that will ever happen-" The sympathy disappeared again, "Unless... you accept my help. I will keep you safe here at Aretuza. I will mentor you and help you control it."
You bit your trembling lip, hating how you were still stuck on the fact you had killed your entire family. Though the woman had previously made fun of your weakness, her eyes were less cold as she looked down on you now.
After a long train of thought, you grumbled, "So what do you expect in return?"
She smiled, giving you an accomplished nod. You were already understanding life as a mage, "To keep it all between us. You have never used fire magic. You survived after your chaos and conduit moment made the pillager's brains simmer out of their eyes."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I won't keep my end of the bargain." She stared at you with a look of finality, making it clear she did not condone any resistance to her offer.
A single nod of your head was enough to satisfy Tissaia, "I will send Triss back and you will accept her help this time."
"What if I don't want the scars to disappear?"
Tissaia examined you, trying to decipher the train of thought that went behind those words,
"Then they'll serve as a great reminder of what happened when you lost control."
*⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
Yennefer walked into Aretuza's dining hall, approaching the first mage she knew and immediately opening her mouth, "They're holding an injured girl hostage."
Annika looked up at her, confused, "The Brotherhood?"
"No, yes, I don't know. I saw Tissaia bring her in, with my own eyes." Yennefer muttered with hatred laced in her voice, still not having found her peace and home within the walls of Aretuza.
"Then surely there must be a reason. Rectoress de Vries would never just-"
"She did it with me too, only shorter. When I first came here." Yennefer clarified and licked her lips, sending dangerous glares at the pair of older mages who she knew had been staring at the deformation of her back.
"Oh-" Sabrina approached, a smirk tugging at her lips, "What are you two gossiping about? Do go on."
And so the rumour had started, making Tissaia catch wind of it before the end of the afternoon. To say the woman was furious was an understatement. All Yennefer of Vengerberg had done since her arrival, had been to make things ten times more difficult for her, refusing to adapt. So, it didn't come to Yennefer's surprise that she was summoned to the rectoress office again. If anything, an accomplished glint in her eyes made it clear to Tissaia that she was happy she had disrupted her plans, even if the girl could not have any idea what they were.
"Sit." Tissaia's stern voice instructed when she heard Yennefer's uneven step enter her quarters. She kept her back towards the girl. "You seem to take a great liking to lighting all the fires I'm trying to put out, do you not?"
"Why are you keeping that girl locked up?"
Tissaia turned around, her eyes narrowed, "Why are you sticking your nose in the business of the Brotherhood? Are you so keen to dig through our dirt, piglet? Do you miss sleeping among those beasts so much that you've turned into one?" She saw how Yennefer angrily nibbled at her bottom lip, clearly hurt by the memories of her past.
"You're keeping her against her will, as you did with me. She's hurt." Yennefer spat back after taking a couple of seconds to recuperate.
"She is delirious from her injuries and her trauma. Triss is with her. Has that quelled your curiosity enough?"
"So that means you did take her involuntarily."
Tissaia locked her jaw in frustration, feeling anger bubbling, "She's safer with us, as you all are. Her chaos needs to be mentored as much as anyone else's." She examined Yennefer's face, sensed the intrigue still in her eyes and tilted her head, "If you're so drawn by her, go fetch her for me." With a look that told Yennefer to get up and leave, Tissaia kept her eyes burning in the back of the young mage's head as she left.
*⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
The itching of your skin moved all over your body, where your burns had previously festered and bled, but where faint scars now coated your skin instead. Your trembling fingers traced the one on your torse and stomach, the bumps and unevenness of them still appearing to the soft touch of your fingertips. Triss had done her best to heal the wounds but leave the scars, without making them too unbearable to look at. You could see it pained the mage to not be able to heal you properly, that your need to hold on to your trauma was greater than the need to heal. Still, she knew that not every mage's conduit moment was smooth sailing, so she had kept her mouth shut and had only looked at you with a calm sense of understanding in her eye.
Suddenly, you felt the air change, felt your head fill with prickles that weren't yours and felt the power in your veins reappear once more, as if your mind had healed together with your wounds and made chaos invite itself back beneath your chest. It elevated your senses and made you hear your heartbeat pump through your ears. But then you noticed; you saw her piercing lilac eyes staring back at you through the crack of your door before she knocked to make herself known. She did not wait for your approval, nor did she seem embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Instead, she seemed determined.
Your eyes watched the girl, from her crooked jaw to the hunchback that made her garments fall unflatteringly around her body. It made Yennefer grow self-conscious. The girl quickly pulled her dress back on her shoulder but felt it slide off again just as fast.
She took a step closer, taking in your burned-down clothes even if you had a fresh garment waiting for you on your bed, "Who are you?"
"I could ask you the same."
Ignoring your question, she took another step forward. She licked her lips, "What happened to you? Why are you here?"
The life in your eyes left as soon as she reminded you of what had happened. Yennefer's stare was intense as her big lilac eyes examined you from head to toe, intrigued by someone who seemed to suffer the same kind of welcome she'd had.
"Did she take you away from your family too?"
Your heart panged and your fingers started to tremble again as if suddenly you could feel the heat that had coursed through them mere hours ago. You felt your chaos flitting all across your body, unable to be controlled. It worried you.
"Step back," You warned, with panic and shattered devastation. If you were to set the whole of Aretuza ablaze, then surely your secret would not be safe anymore.
Yennefer kept idle, staring at your sunken form. She'd been in that position not long ago and though her heart had hardened from her time at Aretuza, together with all the challenges her old life had given her, she could feel her heart break nonetheless.
"I won't hurt you." She assured, "I want to help."
You finally looked up to properly look her in the eyes, sensing the honesty and desperation she held.
"I mean- we could help each other." She clarified quickly.
"I don't know where I am, who you are, who I even am anymore, so how could I be of any use to you?"
Yennefer licked her lips, "I want to leave this place as much as you do."
You rose your eyebrows and kept your eyes locked firmly on hers. Yennefer found solace in the fact you hadn't gazed at her deformities more than once, just to acknowledge them and then get on with it. Usually, people's eyes would linger on those more than on her own set of eyes, begging to be looked at.
Her words made a bundle of thoughts swarm through your head. You wanted to leave this place, yes, but where would you go without anyone left alive? Without anyone to care for you? You didn't even know to what part of the Continent Tissaia had transported you to. But as you let all those insecurities fill you up, you realised one more grave reminder; if you were to run, you would be left without the safety the rectoress had promised you. If she were to find out you had left and broken your deal, she could very well send the whole Continent after you simply for still being alive after what you'd done.
Defeated, you sighed, "I can't."
Yennefer grew impatient and now fully closed the distance as she stood right in front of you on your bed, "Sure you can! We can sneak out when the Brotherhood's holding the congregation. Everyone will be there, including Tissaia."
"I can't," You repeated, void of hope and motivation, feeling nothing more but hollow.
"Are you going to give up that easily then? Or have they pressurized and tainted your thoughts already like the rest?"
Within a blink, you stood face to face with the girl, your hands palmed into fists, "You don't know me. And I don't know you."
Finally, Yennefer's eyes softened as they looked into yours, so up close. The trauma and the terror were evident to her. Whatever you had gone through, she seemed to understand. Her eyes flashed across your face, across the crease between your brows, the dip beneath your lips and the lashes on your eyes. She saw the dirt and the smeared ash on your cheeks, but as she glanced into your eyes again, she felt a power tugging at her insides. She found a certain kind of wisdom in your irises and felt a sense of peace as you kept your gaze on her. There was a switch that flicked within her, something out of her control, something to do with her chaos, she could tell. It started to coarse through her body, making her ears pop and her skin tingle. She could feel herself grow more powerful than she'd ever had before. The feeling was ecstatic, and she closed her eyes momentarily to let herself drown in it. It was as if she was floating. Then she looked back to you still standing mere inches away from her face.
"I'm Yennefer," She softly muttered,
"Yennefer of Vengerberg."
*⋆.*:·゚ .: ⋆*·゚: .⋆
© 𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘀
𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3
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jessiexcorner · 9 months
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‘Destiny is she.’
Kerack.
 Just a small town with not much going for it, though it was known for its alcohol and the pirates that used to raid the people there centuries ago. 'Not anymore.' Yennefer thought as she drank. After the red death, the once-powerful kingdom fell into shambles. At least they still had their beer going on for them.
"TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!" Yennefer winced, hearing the familiar song buzzing in the back.
  "Ugh. If I have to hear that blasted song one more time, I'm going to kill myself." Yennefer turned to see the drunk bard who wrote it.
  "Jaskier?" He turned his head to look up to see the sorceress. He gasped.
  "You! Oh No! I've had enough of you! Y-you harlot witch!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 
"What? Your girlfriend dumped or something? Also, I'm a sorceress, not a witch."
"No, you ruined my friendship with my only friend! Just cause you had problems in your relationship with him didn't mean you had to ruin mine!"
"We didn't have a relationship."
"It doesn't matter now! I don't need him; I have plenty of friends. And women who want me!" Yennefer turned to order another drink. She didn't want to deal with this right now. A few gulps later, a young girl with blonde hair walked straight toward them.
"Hey! I know you!"
"You do? Oh no. Did I sleep with you?" The girl ignored Jaskier and continued talking to Yennefer.
"You're Yennefer of Vengeberg, aren't you?" Yennefer sighed.
"Look, kid, I don't sell magic anymore. Find someone else."
"Actual, I have a proposition for you."
"Not interested."
"I think you will be-"
"Get lost, kid, before I put a curse on you."
"Weren't you the one looking for a way to conceive?" Yennefer froze. Yes, it's true; that is what she wanted a way to be able to have a child again. But it's not as if she announced it to the world.
"Who told you that?" The girl shrugged with a smug smile.
"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.
"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.
"Everyone knows about her. There's a legend on her. They say that if you ever want to change all the bad that has been done to you; change the fate you've been given, then follow the river upstream to the cottage in the woods. There be a woman, full of grace and beauty, but be careful what is said to her for destiny is she."
"First of all," the drunk bard who had been listening in began, "that doesn't rhyme."
"It's not supposed-" the blonde tried to argue.
"Second of all, who's 'they'?"
"What? No- Look, that doesn't matter, I'm not even talking to you!"
"You know he has a point," Yennefer said.
"Huh?"
"Who is this 'they'?" She said with a cheeky smile. The blonde girl turned redder than the drunken bard and stomped in anger.
"You know what! I don't care! I did what She told me to do and delivered the message! I'm leaving!" She marched out of the bar.
"Say, did you catch her name? I think she fancies me." Jaskier mumbled. Yennefer took a deep breath and finished her drink. 'let's find out who this destiny person is.' She thought, heading out.
                                                       . . .
'Well, what do you know there is a house.' Yennefer thought. She noticed there was a protection spell around the house covering it like a thick fog. She walked towards the house, trying to create a pathway for herself. 'Damn,' This was harder than she thought it would be. 'Why would anyone need such a potent protection spell?' As she tried to move through, it became harder to breathe. Yennefer could feel a headache coming on, it felt as if something was pushing her to fall asleep. She falls and gets knocked out by the gas. Before she falls completely unconscious she notices the end of a flowy robe walking towards her.
Yennefer wakes up feeling as if she has the worst hangover of her life, she notices a blanket covering her and a bed. "What the fuck?" she mutters noticing her surroundings for the first time. A bedroom with a fireplace, cozy and warm but what stuck out the most was the fact she didn't remember how she got here. The door to the bedroom opens before Yennefer can investigate her surroundings more thoroughly.
"Ah, you're not dead. Good." a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a simple white flowy gown exclaims. Yennefer startled immediately turns defensive shooting a gust of magic toward the woman who waves it off as if it were nothing, almost as if, annoyed by Yennefer's reaction.
"Now, is this any way to repay hospitality Yennefer?" The woman says practically scolding Yennefer like a misbehaving child.
"You knocked me out!"
"No, you knocked yourself out." She sat next to the violet-eyed woman, raising her hand near her making Yennefer flinch from the unexpected movement. 
"Relax, I'm only helping your body get rid of the poison from the mist." She sighs moving away after she is done, Yennefer does feel a bit better, less like she had a massive hangover. The woman stands and walks near the fireplace, lighting it with a flick of her fingers, sitting down on a couch with a tea set on a table. "Well? come sit," She points at the other chair meant for Yennefer. Yennefer gets up and slowly walks to the woman sitting on the chair. "Cream?" She offers the raven-haired woman.
"..No," Yennefer declines not wanting any other foreign substances in her body.
"Suit yourself." The woman shrugs, pouring some cream for herself, and lifts her cup taking a sip.
"Why did you want me here?"
"Oh, did my little birdy not tell you?"
"No, well, yes but- that's not- look do you really have a way for me to conceive or are you playing games with me? Because i should warn you i am not in the mood." Yennefer huffs.
"Of course!" The (h/c) haired woman claps her hands making the tea set disappear, with a small vial and a contract replacing it. "This little bottle of magic can bring back anything that was lost. It'll fix you right up, grow back your uterus, and let you keep your good looks," She winks with a smile at Yennefer, who looks at the paper carefully.  
"And I’m guessing this contract I am supposed to sign ensures I do your bidding?" The stranger's grin widens.
"Clever girl. it is fair, after all, i am only asking very little in return for a high reward." Yennefer scoffed but then again she was desperate she wanted this, badly.
"And what would that small favor be?" She questions the woman. "Am i to find you someone and bring them to you?" she rolls her eyes sarcastically commenting.
"Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do."
"Right. Sounds simple enough."
"Hm, simple." she hums in agreement, "I just need you to bring me Geralt of Rivia."
...What? "No, no! Absolutely not! What could you possibly need him for?" Yennefer protests, making the other woman rolled her eyes.
"I'm not going to eat him, or kill your lover boy,"
"He's not-"
"Come on Yen! All you have to do is bring one witcher here, and I'll give you the ability to conceive again, don't you want that choice back?" The woman circles Yennefer, "They took everything from you, yen. They took your right, your decision. Not only am i offering you your freedom, but i am also giving you an option that doesn't require sacrificing your beauty or power." She twirls a lock of Yennefer's hair around her fingers. "and all you have to do is bring me one measly man." Yennefer hesitates. This can't be real, this had to be a trick, but what could she do? the dragon plan didn't work, Geralt was an arse and she had nothing and no one left. "Tell you what, since you have so many issues with me," The woman picks up the vial and hands it to Yennefer. "You can try the potion of mine, and once it works, and it will believe me you will know if it does. You will bring me Geralt." Yennefer's face reads of worry. "Come on you, poor girl, what do you have to lose? You already tried everything. What, you're worried about your man? What do you think I will do to the witcher? Think I will kill him? He's more likely to end me before I can touch him." Yennefer lets the words of this woman influence her, but she couldn't understand what she wanted with Geralt.
"..Fine, deal, if this works...I'll bring you your witcher."
"Lovely!" The woman smiles waving her hand making a feather appear and floats into Yennefer's hand. Yennefer pauses, feeling the softness of the feather. 
"...Before I sign this, I want to know your name, your real name. I have a feeling it isn't 'destiny'" The woman chuckles once again walking behind Yennefer, placing her soft hands onto her shoulders.
"(Y/n), a pleasure to meet you, Yennefer."
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theuniverseofsg · 8 months
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Why aren’t there more Imagines or Scenarios with Tissaia de Vries here?
I’m baffled. Please reply, tag, message me or whatever if you can find them :’( 
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polakina · 9 months
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In honour of the Witcher S3 coming out...I feel like I need to make Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer fanfic...
What do we think?
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ramen-flavored · 1 year
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Guess I’m not watching season 4 ….
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How The Witcher characters would react to someone from our world falling into theirs
Summary: they’d not appreciate destiny doing this
Notes: More witcher content from me yay! this is inspired by my vikings post that kind of made me into the timetraveler gal
Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie (hmu to be added)
Masterlist | requests are OPEN!
Geralt
Fuck
This was not on his table. Not some person just appearing out of nowhere, but clearly not from a portal, and clearly very confused
Oh he believes you’re not from the Continent. He just does not like it, at all
Despite everything, he’ll take good care of you
Helps you until you can stand on your own feet, and then fucks off (unless something else happens in between 😏)
Yennefer
She expects you coming to the Continent to be on purpose
Since you have absolutely no power or means of survival, she can for once trauma dump
Wants to leave the Continent upon finding out about surrogates/adoption/etc.
Would help you, but not very reliably
I think the two of you could become friends, given time
Adopts a child with your help (or just takes in an army of orphans)
Jaskier
Will write a song about this
Is with Geralt when you appear, unlike Geralt, he’s extremely thrilled
This is the most interesting thing that has happened to him in years
Talks to you about everything your world has to offer
You’ve got yourself a free, financially stable friend that’ll stick with you, congrats
Triss
Probably the person that realizes the quickest how much you miss your world
She’s an ✨empath ✨
Will take care of you, and that is a threat
She’d also teach you everything about plants and herbs, so you can find work on your own
Not that you need to, because you can count on her to always help you out
Eskel
He was not prepared for this, like, at all
But Eskel doesn’t forget his manners, so he makes sure you’re safe and healthy
Tears up over the fact that you don’t stare at his scars and treat him like a normal person
Honestly the best witcher you could ask for in this scenario
He’ll take you along the Path and let you sleep in inns and such just for your company
Lambert
Lambert has a bit of a… different approach to the whole matter
If you’re funny, you’ll get along
More than a little harsh around the edges
But he’s very interested in your stories, and doesn’t abandon you
You’ll just have to put up with him
Vesemir
He’s completely alone in Kaer Morhen when this happens
And very, very cautious of you
You need to find proof that you’re not a mage
Eventually does take care of you
And keeps you around (totally not because he enjoys having some company)
Also helps you to get onto your own feet
But lets you stay, if you really want to
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swanimagines · 5 months
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THE WITCHER AO3 SERIESES
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EVERYTHING FOR THE WITCHER
Geralt of Rivia
Jaskier
Yennefer of Vengerberg
Lambert
Eskel (coming)
Tissaia de Vries (coming)
MISC
Preferences
(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)
For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.
If you want to be informed about new fics for The Witcher or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.
Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.
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avidread3r · 2 months
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Does anyone know any Geralt x Yennefer x Reader fics? Cause I can't find any. Are there any?
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thewritersaddictions · 6 months
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Christmas Stories 2023 Master List
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Welcome to the Christmas Stories 2023 Master List
A/n- There will be some fluff for and during the Christmas time. This is 24 days of fluff, with a mixture of Christmas-themed songs and movies. Yes 'the nightmare before Christmas' is a Christmas movie.
Word Count- 19,868k
Series Master List
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Day 1- Solider Boy + Baby, it's cold outside.
Day 2- Billy Hargrove + National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.
Day 3- Karl Heisenberg + Violent Night
Day 4- Jim Hopper + Sleigh Ride
Day 5- Eddie Munson + Scrooged
Day 6- Geralt + Germlins
Day 7- Damon Salvatore + Grinch
Day 8- John Price + Here Comes Santa Claus
Day 9- Simon “Ghost” Riley + It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Day 10- Koing + Home Alone
Day 11- Steve Harrington + Mele Kalikimaka
Day 12- Luis Serra + Elf
Day 13- Klaus Mikealson + Die Hard
Day 14- Steve Rogers + Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Day 15- Aaron Hotchner + Frosty the snowman
Day 16- Jaskier + Santa Baby
Day 17- Alcina Dimitrescu + A Christmas Story
Day 18- Daryl Dixon + Home Alone 2 Lost in New York
Day 19- James 'Bucky' Barnes + Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Day 20- Joel Miller + Winter Wonderland
Day 21- Leon S. Kennedy + Holly Jolly Christmas
Day 22- Negan Smith + The Nightmare Before Christmas
Day 23- John “Soap” MacTavish + Feliz Navidad
Day 24- Rick Grimes + I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
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Completed on: (12/24/23)
Posted on: (09/20/23) - (12/01/23)
Christmas Stories Tags- @dackwccgjd @alex000sstuff @elenaguarnieri @emilyrosetravis @magnificentalpacabird @crazybooklover33 @yourfavthiopoan @peachbunnieluv @jokenotfunny @pastanoodles11 @hyunjinbiased-blog @tuquoquebrute @kjah97 @is-being-ignored-a-hobby @kiwi-lanes @welcomethefears @elenenvy @multifandom456 @sweatshirtXO @g8sstuff @rottendorkmomo @emmasstuff2415
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kiritella · 6 months
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Series: Sehnsucht, Chapter Four: Something More
Pairings: Geralt x Teen!Reader, Yennefer x Teen!Reader
Warnings: low self worth,
Words: 3.6k
————————
—Four Years Ago—
“You’ve gotten more powerful, but it has slowed you down,” Eret’s clear voice broke through the air. “You need to have confidence in your strikes.”
She huffed as she tossed him a glare, pointing the tip of her sword in his direction sharply before repositioning her feet and doing the striking sequence again. This time, she struck the wood firmly. 
Eret laughed, a smirk playing on the edges of his lips as he leaned against a boulder. The noise of the camp resonated in the background. She grunted. 
“Alright! You’re confident, but your confidence lacks commitment. Do it again.”
Stubbornly, she obeyed, but quicker. 
“Keep your eyes up on your target. You don’t need to stare at your blade.”
Again.
“Hands.”
Again.
“Faster.”
Again. 
“Don’t forget your breathing.”
Again.
“Perfect,” Eret said with a growing grin, crossing his arms over his chest and covering the flaming rose crest on his garment. “Keep it up and you’ll be the best swordsman around. Do it a few dozen more times and you can be done for the day.”
The young teenager paused, and smiled. Eret took a seat beside the boulder and pulled out a notebook as she prepped again. She shook the soreness out of her muscles, reminding herself of the spell casting a brown illusion over her blue eyes. It was an amusing thought: the best swordsman. It was a rather great exaggeration of her skills. She was a quick learner, to be sure, but it would still take much longer before she was good enough to defend herself against anyone who knew a thing or two about the art. Besides, there were still Witchers in these parts, so the best was out of the question. Not that she would ever say such a scandalous thing in front of the humans.
“Do not forget why you are here,” D’ao whispered in her thoughts. She smiled.
“I haven’t.”
“And the swordsmanship lessons?”
“Payment for showing them around!”
“You could have taken gold.”
“But then I wouldn’t know swordsmanship!”
“You have magic,” D’ao grumbled and she chuckled. He sounded like he was pouting. 
“And I am grateful, D’ao, but I would also like to be able to wield more than a dagger,” she said and D’ao huffed. She shook her head with a grin, repeating the striking sequence. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget my magic lessons. And I’ve thought about this. They aren’t going to explore the ancient ruins for another month or so, and if they find anything to do with genies, I’ll be there to take care of it. But since I have time, I might as well learn something from them.”
“The ancient ruins will be dangerous for them, yes, and for us if the rumors about ancient genie history being there are to be believed.”
“If there is history there, I’ll burn it. You know that.”
“I do…”
“So don’t worry so much.”
“It isn't that I am worried…”
“...”
She wasn’t wrong. Her swordsmanship training did take months, and as time passed, the Knights of the Flaming Rose grew accustomed to her consistent, silent presence. They did not suspect her even as they hunted those ancient ruins, or how she went in first. Not even when their efforts had been in vain, finding nothing more than charred, unreadable books.
They grew proud when she trained and fought, an amusement coursing through them as she became able to defeat even their swiftest commanders. Perhaps their pride had taken a blow the first few times to have been bested by a teenager, but that quickly morphed into astonishment and legend. After all, it had only been a few months since she had joined their company as a guide, and her success was a testament to their ability to teach. That, and her stubborn determination.
It was still a challenge for her, though, as the time passed. It was a strange sort of existence, to be among, but not a part of them. And still, the strange warmth left within her bones by Yennefer and the Witchers remained unsettled. It stirred in her and craved to be resolved. The feeling could not escape the foreign places those people had touched, and she didn’t know how to feed the craving.
She thought she saw Yennefer sometimes, and her heart would leap into her throat. Geralt would pass her in the street only to be gone the moment her head snapped towards him. And every single time, there was a hollow, painful ache. Because, no, they weren’t there at all. She didn’t even know what she wanted from them, really. They were simply…warm, and she had been bitterly cold her entire life.
The same sensations showed their haunting features when she looked in the mirror and saw the color of her eyes. Brown hiding a monstrous blue. The scars peeked over her shoulders and neck, stretching down her back, marring her from shoulder to waist. The welted ring on her left shoulder. Her brand. It exposed everything she was, and she despised it with cold hatred. She knew what she was, there was no need for such a reminder.
And she knew, once the Knights of the Flaming Rose saw the traces of her birthright on her back, they would know as well, and they would turn on her. They had their orders, after all.
They spoke of her kind around campfires, horror stories passed around as if she was no different than the monsters they slew in the swamps and forests. There was no difference to them, between her and the kikimora and the cockatrice, the ones who slayed entire villages, killers of young girls born at the time of the Conjunction. They tied her name to fear, whether they realized it or not. She wondered what would happen if they discovered that the monster they created in their minds trained with them, washed their trousers, and guided them through the forest of which they had no map? They hunted monsters, what would happen when they found out she was one?
She didn’t stay long enough to find out. The cold ache settled in her bones. She disappeared in the night with a stolen sword and a satchel for her herbs, leaving behind nothing but rumors and twisted truths for anyone who came looking. After all, the truth didn’t matter in the end, and could not stand against preconceived beliefs. She would not wait for them to find her nature carved on her skin so that she could be hunted. She would not let them mount her head on a spike, for she did not want to prove to them the monster they believed her to be. So, the darkness covered her escape, her long-time companions lost to a beautiful past, a pleasant memory, as she chased a cure for the ache in her bones.
After all, even monsters feared things.
Even monsters craved for something more.
—Now—
The next time she woke to the warmth seeping into her skin, a strange cot beneath her back, and the sound of tiny pitter-patters on the floor. She had entertained herself for several minutes by remaining beneath the thick fur that covered her, but then she toyed with the rats. She had just caught one by the tail when the door creaked open. 
She froze, rat dangling by its tail and her mouth dropped open as Yennefer showed herself in the doorway. The woman was as unchanged as ever and exactly as she had remembered. Long, beautiful black hair loose about her shoulders, starkly purple eyes and graceful—so very graceful.
“Um…” Yennefer started, her wonderfully wide eyes narrowing at the sight of the rat. She dropped it quickly. It scampered off with a panicked squeak. “I’m Yennefer.”
Ah…yes. It had been years now…of course she wouldn’t remember. The girl swallowed thickly and stood to her feet, offering a short bow of her head in greeting as she whispered her name.
“I came to see how you were doing,” Yennefer said, “And to see if you were hungry.”
She nodded quickly. “I’m fine, and…food in my bag.”
Yenn shook her head, motioning the girl to follow her as she turned. “Nonsense, you’ll have something hot. It’s Ciri’s turn to cook, so it isn’t bad, if a bit bland.”
She followed at Yenn’s heels, still astounded that she was here of all places. She hadn’t thought the sorceress would be hiding amongst the Witchers. 
Yennefer led her back to the great hall she had first entered into, and as the other Witchers appeared, she hid a bit more behind the tall woman. Amongst them, though, she could not find a certain familiar face.
“How’s…Geralt?” she asked awkwardly, shuffling on her feet. It would be strange to say they had already met, wouldn’t it? 
“He is doing better than yesterday, still unconscious, but doing okay.”
“...yesterday?” she muttered. How long had she slept?
“Yes, it is late morning now.”
“Oh…”
Yennefer sat her down in front of a large plate in the center of the table. It seemed as though it was the one everyone grabbed from. Vesemir sat across from her, Lambert beside him, and Coen next. Yennefer sat beside her and upon seeing the girl’s hesitance, grabbed a biscuit and placed it in front of her. 
Her tongue grew heavy in the large company as she nibbled on her bread. It wasn’t exactly quiet, as Witchers—well, she assumed they were all Witchers—communed in the hall. Laughter erupted from the tables behind them now and then, the clank of cups and bottles, easy conversation. An ashen-haired woman sat near her, and while she did not say much, she offered a number of meaningful glances.
“Are you a mage?” Coen asked, trying to lift the thick blanket of awkwardness seated at the table. She nodded hesitantly.
“What kind of spell are you casting right now?” Lambert asked coldly. She almost preferred his bluntness over kindness. It was familiar. She raised a brow. “Our medallions detect magic and monsters, so either you are casting a spell right now, or you are a cleverly disguised beast. And in that case, you aren’t in the best of company.”
“Lambert,” Vesemir scolded, but Sir Ginger was unshaken.
“You could spare to be a little more polite,” Yennefer snapped before turning back to her. “Sorry, he’s just the resident arse.”
Lambert scoffed. Fiddling with her bread, she rubbed the crumbs between her fingers and shifted uncomfortably. Looking back and meeting the resident arse’s eye, she dispelled the illusion. Her eyes shifted, a field of brown morphing into blue seas, like lightning beneath the ocean or trapped within a glazed bottle. Lambert’s medallion ceased its soft tremors.
The Witchers leaned back, a strange look dawning on their faces. She glanced quickly at Yennefer and swallowed thickly. A sliver of hope sparked in her chest as Yenn’s gaze turned thoughtful.
“Illusions,” the ashen-haired girl said, scooting closer. “Hi, I’m Ciri.”
She offered a smile and nodded in greeting.
“Can you do any other kinds of magic?” Ciri asked, but her tone was less accusing than Lambert’s, and more curious.
She nodded, then whispered softly. The medallions began to shake loud enough so even she could hear their hiss. The Witchers stiffened, painfully aware as the air in the room began to shift. Even the tables behind them grew silent and careful. The candles lit upon the table stirred, and the flames went out with a quick gust of wind. The smoke caught and carried in front of them in a long line stretching over the table. The water from Vesemir’s cup rose in a small thread like vein, and dust collected together from the tables and floors. They joined the bit of smoke in a triple helix, and it spun for them in a coordinated display before it dissipated and she ceased. Then she waited.
She waited as her heart pounded violently in her chest and her stomach twisted. Her skin crawled and ate away at her. They were Witchers. 
“The Elements,” Yennefer said, and she said it so casually, as if it was nothing more than a comment about the snowstorm raging outside. As if it were unimportant, a mere observation, and not something she had spent a lifetime trying to carve out of her own body. Hidden since—since everything. Startled as if struck dumb, the girl remained silent and stared at the woman in baffled wonder.
She shouldn’t have been so surprised, really, especially since Yennefer was a mage herself. And Geralt hadn’t—
Vesemir softened, and his voice was gentle and quiet. “You will not find trouble with us, child. You are welcome here.”
She faced him when he reached across the table, offering her another handful of bread. It was unsettling, disturbing even, just how much her chest ached as she accepted it from him. You are welcome here. No one spoke further, but their expressions told more than they might have intended to say, especially Vesemir’s. 
They had noticed something in her response, apparently. Only, she did not know they could hear just how fast her heart was beating, or see how her fingers twitched anxiously, how her body was coiled and ready to leap from danger should any of them twitch. She didn’t know what they saw in her at that moment, or what sort of reflection she was for them. But, what she did know, was they had yet to draw their swords, or look at her in disdain. She would not turn away a kind eye for all the heartache in the world—especially when they also offered bread and a warm fire in the cold of winter.
“Where are you from?” Yennefer asked.
The girl shrugged and waved her hand in a circle. “Around.”
“What about your parents?” Coen asked.
She grimaced, then shrugged again. 
Vesemir raised a brow. “Have you been on your own?” he asked, and she nodded. “How long?”
“Um…” she muttered and looked away, her brow furrowing. She determined the time with the Knights of the Flaming Rose probably didn’t count for much. “Seven.”
“Days?”
“Years.”
“That long?” Coen asked, surprised.
She nodded and they fell grave. She shrugged and offered a smile. Perhaps they would have said more—perhaps she would have spoken more, having at last built the courage—but they were interrupted by another, much more welcomed presence. She jolted in her seat when Geralt’s voice came from the passageway as he entered the room. 
“Tell me it isn’t Lambert’s turn to cook,” he grumbled, and his appointed victim scoffed. He was slow, and his steps were shaky, but he was awake and moving about. 
“Geralt!” Ciri started, jumping out of her seat and rushing over to him. He accepted her embrace easily, wrapping his arms around the young woman for several moments. They whispered something between them, but her ears couldn’t strain to catch them before they parted. 
“It’s good to see you awake,” Vesemir said as they approached.
Geralt hummed and took a seat beside Yennefer. There was a look between them, one a little too long, too intense, to hold the same meaning as the way the others looked at her. The way she leaned into his side and smiled before turning her attention back to the table. It was something more, though she didn’t know what it was exactly. More just felt like the proper word. 
Geralt turned toward her now, and a faint smile pulled at his lips. “You made it further than the gap, I’m impressed.”
She chuckled a silent laugh and nodded. Coen rose from the table, walking over to the fire pit at the center of the room where an iron pot hung over the flames.
“How’s your leg?” Geralt asked as he reached for bread. She raised a curious brow. “That old man grazed your leg. I might not have been able to move, but it would have been difficult to remain asleep with all the jolting around.”
“Wait—” Yenn started.
“What happened?” Vesemir asked for her.
“We were attacked upstream of the Lixela. There was a struggle,” Geralt explained briefly before nodding toward her. “Your leg?”
Surprised, she lightly shrugged. “It’s alright.”
“Have you treated it?” he asked and she nodded. “Good.”
“If you’d like, I can take a look at it later,” Yennefer offered, “See if I can heal it.”
She nodded stiffly as Coen returned. He placed a bowl of…of something in front of Geralt, and then another in front of her. Looking up at him curiously, he smiled, motioning to the bowl.
“Eat.”
She bowed her head in thanks, and he nodded. Whatever it was, it smelled absolutely divine. Doing as she was told, she ate, and the moment the strange flavors erupted over her tongue, she hunched over the bowl and ate like a woman starved. She didn’t mind too much how the others watched her, but she didn’t know what was so interesting about her animalistic behavior. Heat crept up her neck as she tried to slow down.
“Where will you go?” Yennefer asked when her bowl was empty, and once more, she shrugged.
“This winter is going to be harsh if a blizzard this early is anything to go by,” Vesemir said. “You’ll have to winter somewhere.”
She shook her head. “The woods are my home. Winter has never changed that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but with their enhanced hearing, the Witchers heard her well enough. They didn’t seem to like that response very much, and silence followed for several moments. She cringed.
“Speaking of it…thank you for the food. I should gather my things…” she said and stood, her body resisting. Vesemir spoke before the others were able, keeping her from walking away.
“Stay,” he insisted. “At least until the storm passes over. It would mean death to leave in the midst of it. As I said, you are welcome here. Have no rush to leave.”
Something in her chest melted, like molten stone, and heated her up from within. She swallowed back the thickening knot in her throat as she flicked her eyes from Vesemir to Yenn and Geralt. Her winter-cracked hands gripped at the tattered ends of her shirt tightly.
Bowing her head low, she cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
Another silence followed, but shorter than the last and broken by Yennefer standing. “Come,” she said, her hand brushing over Geralt’s shoulders as she passed behind him. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the hall. “While you are here, the least we can do is help get you cleaned up.”
It was in these efforts of “cleaning up” that she found herself standing awkwardly in the corner as Yennefer poured a bit of heated water into a wooden tub. The room was rather dark, lit by the fireplace and a couple of candles. Heavy curtains draped over the windows, blocking out any daylight, and with it, the cold. It smelled nice too, like lilacs and…and something fruity. It was a comfortable sort of space, calm. 
Two chairs rested by a small round table, a fur draped over its back. A book of sorts, a ribbon, a gown. It was soft, in a way, as if Yennefer had somehow captured the feeling of the early morning sun shining between spring leaves in a bottle and let it loose in the room. It resembled Yennefer deeply. It was as if the room was her own as Yenn sat on the edge of the tub and dipped her hand into the water. As if the room embraced her in the same way she embraced it. 
Yenn smiled, motioning her to come away from the door where she had stood the entire time. “It’s alright, come here. The water is ready.”
Hesitantly, the girl approached and Yennefer stood. She walked with so much grace the girl looked away, as if by simply watching her, she would somehow stain the woman.
“Shall I leave?” Yennefer asked, and her head shot up nearly as quickly as she shook it. Something more resided in the room, and she feared that if Yenn were to leave, that feeling would go with her. That warm golden sunlight would follow her out of the room and she would be left with the dying embers of the fireplace—candle smoke lost by her very breath. 
“Alright,” Yenn said and careful, as if she were reaching out to a frightened animal, rested a hand on the girl’s arm. “Then why don’t we get you out of these?”
Unsure, the girl nodded. It wasn’t as though she actually needed help getting out of her garments, but there was something so gentle in the way Yennefer’s hand touched her skin and helped her. Something so careful, as if she were delicate.
Nothing about her was delicate, she thought. Her skin was dry and cracked, her hands and feet calloused, and dirt was so well buried beneath her nails, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was growing moss. She did not speak gracefully or walk straight and posed like Yennefer. And her back—well, that might as well have been beaten leather. She screamed like a madwoman and bared her teeth like an animal. She was the furthest thing from delicate. And yet…the way Yennefer helped her left her wondering.
She jumped at the sudden gasp Yennefer took. That soft, lingering touch traced along her bare back, trailed over the sharp, welted lines leading from her shoulders to her lower back, from her sides to her spine. They brushed over the ring on her left shoulder, traced the “W” branded into her skin. Embarrassment crawled up the girl’s neck and ignited her cheeks. She did not raise her head when Yennefer turned her around to face her, too consumed with the burning behind her eyes.
“It’s you,” Yennefer whispered, and something within the child fell apart.
She’d remembered.
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