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kittenofdoomage · 2 years

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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

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komotionlessqueenmm · 2 years

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Headcanon/Preference # 23

Gifs NOT mine.

Requested? Nope.

Year posted - 2023

Fandom - The Witcher (TV series)

Note that I haven't actually watched this show, I plan on watching it, but only the content that included Henry, because him getting fired for being "toxic" is total bullshit.

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| How did Geralt first cross paths with you? |

• Exactly how you would expect, he saved you from being killed by a Noonwraith while trying to gather wild herbs for your elixirs.

• He'd been traveling for a fortnight, and he'd dealt with all sorts of trouble along the way. Who knew his chosen path would be so troublesome.

• The day had been relatively calm and quiet, which he was grateful for, he needed a break. Then a sound suddenly broke through the quiet, a woman's scream from further up the road.

• Geralt couldn't help the sigh that passed his lips, of course he wouldn't get to have a break from the chaos of the world. But regardless of that he urged Roach to trot faster so he could help whoever potentially needed his assistance.

• The creature had you by the wrist, trying to slash at you with its sickle, which you continuously managed to dodge in the nick of time. Another terrified scream ripping from your throat as the Noonwraith shrieked at you.

• Geralt unsheathed his sword and got to work, slaying the Noonwraith with a little bit of trouble, he was exhausted after all. All the while you had rushed around gathering the herbs you had dropped as they fought.

• "Those must be pretty important." Geralt had observed gruffly after he'd slain the Noonwraith. You ducked your head in slight embarrassment, feeling as if he was scolding you for it. He then turned to leave, not honestly expecting anything from you.

• "Wait!" You called out to him, taking a tiny step back when he turned to look at you. "Thank you... For saving me." He nodded his head without a word. "I... I don't have anything to give to you as a reward, except for a hot meal and a warm bath if you'd like."

• Considering the week he's had, that was the best reward he'd had in what felt like an eternity. But Geralt maintained his cold demeanor, and accepted the offer, following you back to your modest little cottage nestled deep in the woods.

| When did Geralts obsession start? |

• That evening when you invited him into your home, you fed him well, and explained that you are a "potion master" as you put it. After he'd finished his meal, you tended to the small injury on his forearm, then left him to tend to the small bathhouse, preparing a warm bath as promised.

• You'd mixed in a few fragrance oils and flower petals into the steaming water. Trying to make it as relaxing as you could, without being overbearing. Geralt had found it amusing when he'd realized what you'd done, but he was pleased with the claiming atmosphere that now filled the bathhouse.

• You'd left him be as he soaked, rushing off to your cellar to start working on the elixir you'd been gathering herbs for. And as he soaked he thought about you, about how tender you'd been with him, and how you'd treated him so endearingly. So much so that an onlooker would have assumed you were lovers with the way you fretted over him. It was nice.

• You'd offer him lodging after his bath, giving him your own bed, and stating you'd sleep in the upper loft. He'd tried convincing you to just let him stay in the upper loft, but you declined saying how he'd saved your life, and you intended on offering him the best comfort that you could as a reward. He accepted this offer when you sternly informed him that you wouldn't change your mind on the matter.

• So that night he lay in bed, surrounded by the scent of you, just thinking about everything that's happened in such a short time since he'd met you. You been grateful for his help, you gave him a hardy meal, a nice bath, and now let him sleep in your bed. And yet unlike so many others he's helped, you didn't want anything in return. He'd saved you, and yet you didn't request that he help you with whatever other troubles you had.

• He wondered why you'd been so desperate to gather those herbs that you'd risk crossing paths with a Noonwraith. Let alone why you were intent on collecting them all again as he fought the creature, not even waiting until he'd slain it, or given up on gathering them all together.

• He wondered why you lived all the way out here, seemingly all alone deep in the woods. How you managed to survive your day to day life. You had few animals, and no crop fields, only a simple garden. And yet you seemed to be living comfortably, he'd seen nothing to suggest you had much wealth, but you weren't miserable like so many others he's met.

• His obsession started growing from the moment you'd welcomed him into your home. And as the day progressed and his curiosity peaked that obsession grew. You were a mystery to him, and with how kind you'd been to him he found himself smitten before the night was even out. Making his departure that morning an unwanted but necessary venture, so he'd left before the sun had risen, and while you still slept.

| Does Geralt try wooing you in a healthy way before snapping? And how does he do it? |

• He didn't stay away for very long, showing up one evening with a large gash on his arm, hoping you'd assist him. You of course rushed to do so, gathering healing herbs, cleaning and dressing the wound, and assuring him that he was more than welcome to rest at your home until he was well again.

• You'd offered him your bed again, stating it was more comfortable, and would be much easier for him to get to than the upper loft with his arm injury. This time however he wouldn't let you do that, and when you argued against it, he'd suggest that if he'd struggle with the ladder leading to the loft, that you could simply assist him.

• You'd thought about it for a moment, and eventually agreed with a heavy sigh, knowing you couldn't convince him otherwise. And that's what ended up happening, he struggled with the ladder, and you quickly rushed to place yourself directly behind him on the ladder, allowing him to lean against you as he slowly climbed up, following his pace patently.

• He was larger than you, but that didn't stop you from doing whatever you could to help him. And Geralt came to realize pretty quickly that that's just how you are, always trying to help in anyway you can without expecting anything in return. That made his obsession grow of course, no one had really ever been that way with him, so the feeling was addictive.

• Witchers heal much father than regular men, and combined with the healing herbs you'd used, his arm was completely healed by morning. And Geralt was intent on repaying your kindness, subconsciously hoping it would woo you the way your kindness had wooed him.

• In doing so Geralt worked on many chores around your homestead. Chopping wood, feeding your animals, repairing the damage he'd noticed to your home, even going out and hunting some game for you, which he later skinned and cured for you. Because of how much he was intent on doing for you, he had stayed with you for a few days.

• He would offhandedly praise your beauty, and often praised your skill crafts. He'd offered a helping hand with some of your elixirs, and went out and found some of the more rare ingredients you'd gotten low on. Most of which were only found in dangerous places. He assisted with cooking as well, and made as much small talk with you as he could.

| What happens when you politely reject Geralt for another man? |

• He'd learned so much about you in such a short time, and he found his heart felt lighter at the mere thought of you. So he decided he'd take a chance with you, feeling as if he'd never be the same without you in his life. He'd grown to love and adore you in so many ways, you were all he dreamed of, all he could think of, he needed you to be his.

• That evening after cleaning up after dinner, Geralt had taken a chance, and cupped your face between his hands. You looked at him with curiosity, then a surprised gasp escaped you when he suddenly kissed you. He all but melted into the kiss, but you remained stagnant, eventually pushing on his chest to get him to stop when he didn't seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm.

• He of course released you in an instant, worry and confusion etched onto his face. You then sheepishly explained that you were already betrothed to another, and you wouldn't accept his advances. You also explained that those elixirs that were so important for you to make were actually meant for your betrothed, who was suffering from a ailment you couldn't cure, but at the very least you could slow its progression.

• So you'd rejected him for a dying man... That hurt, much more than he'd ever admit. So he'd left without saying much, he needed to think, he needed to get away and let out his heartache. Which came out of him in a fit of rage as he brutally slain some bandits that he later crossed paths with.

| How bad will things get when Geralt does finally snap & become Yandere? |

• It's all he can think about anymore, you'd rejected him for a dying man, someone weak and unworthy of you. And his obsession starts taking a dark turn as that thought consumes him, and he allows that pent up rage to take over from time to time, which usually resulted in bloodshed.

• Eventually he finds his way back to your cottage, but he doesn't make his presence known to you. Instead he watches you from a distance, and follows you as you make your weekly trip to your betrotheds home. A basket containing the vials filled with your most powerful healing elixir hanging from your arm.

• The stone home was shabby, and in Geralts mind a pitiful excuse for a home. The dense woods surrounding it allowing Geralt plenty of cover to hide behind. And later into the evening, still early enough so you would get home before the sun went down, you'd left with an empty basket and a promise to return soon.

• Geralt stayed where he'd been hiding until the sun had set, and he knew you were long gone. Then he made his way into the stone home, breaking the door down in order to enter. Inside sitting at the table was a sickly man who wasn't nearly half the size of Geralt. He'd been eating salted meat and bread, a coughing fit taking hold of him as Geralt entered.

• The sudden of it all clearly terrifying the sick man, who through his coughing pleaded for his life. Geralt ignored him and walked around the little home, finding the vials of your elixir on the table beside the shabby bed. "Who are you?" The man asked once his coughing subsidized, Geralt looked to him with dark uncaring eyes.

• "You're the Witcher that saved (Y/n)." He realized quickly. That made Geralt smirk as he shoved the bedside table over, the vials breaking as they hit the stone floor. "What are you doing!?" He'd asked in a panic. "Cutting loose ends." Geralt stated calmly before leaving the man behind, knowing that without the elixir he'd die slowly, painfully, and all alone.

• That night Geralt showed up on your doorstep, a dark aura about him, making you nervous. Despite this nervousness however, you foolishly opened your home to him. And Geralt took full advantage of that, making it much easier for him to steal you away and runaway into the darkness. No one would ever come looking for you, and on such dangerous roads you'd never dare trying to run away from him.

| So what kind of a Yandere is Geralt? |

• Obsessive, possessive, jealous, and manipulative. He adores you, and he wants you all to himself. He's greedy and he'll kill anyone that might come between you, finding cleaver ways to cover the murder up.

• He would never harm you physically, but he will break you mentally. Then he will mold and reshape you into his perfect little obedient lover. You will love him the way he loves you, sooner or later, with or without the help of magic or potions.

• He will remind you constantly that without him you would be dead, that without him you would be nothing but meat for the crows. Sometimes he'll test you and pretend to leave without you in the night, if you run he will find you and punish you, if you cry out for him, he will come to you in an instant.

• Punishments from Geralt are usually being denied food and water for an extended period of time. Other times he'll make you walk as he rides Roach, and he won't allow you to take a break, making you walk for several days at times. Sometimes it'll be as simple as denying you things like, the warmth of the fire on a cold night, or a bedroll, leaving you to sleep on the hard icey forest floor.

• However when you are good Geralt is very tender and sweet with you. Making sure you are well sated and hydrated. Holding you lovingly in his arms as you ride together, his arms around your hips as you practically sat in his lap. Keeping you warm and comfortable on chilly nights, cuddling with you by the fire on a fairly comfy bed he'd made with things from the forest.

• When it's just you two he's easier to keep satisfied, simply do as he asks, do not fight him, praise him as often as he praises you, and never try running away.

• When others are around he's much harder to keep satisfied, as his jealousy knows no bounds, anyone and everyone is a threat in his eyes. So it's best just to stick with him, particularly right up against his side, with his arm around your shoulders reminding everyone you are his.

| Is Geralt worried anyone will find out? |

• Not in the slightest bit. Before ever taking you anywhere near other people, Geralt broke you to the point where you wouldn't try running away, or beg anyone to help you.

• In the beginning of it all he would chat with Roach about you, and as time went on, and he became more and more obsessed and deranged, he would loose his hold on morality of the situation, talking about it all allowed him to accept it much easier.

• If anyone tries to ever take you away because they know something is wrong, they'll vanish from town without a trace, along with the witcher and his female companion. You'll both become a ghost story in most of the settlements you pass through.

• Geralt is very good at manipulating people, and if that doesn't quite work he'll try to intimidate them, though it's rare but if that also fails then he'll simply kill them and anyone else that might get in his way.

• And considering how long you've been on the road now, he knows your betrothed is long dead, and you didn't have any family left, or any friends. No one knows who you are or where you came from except for him. No one cares about you anymore except for him, and he's sure to remind you of that fact until he's achieved breaking you completely into submission.

| What happens when/if you are ever hurt? |

• It was bound to happen sooner or later no matter how hard he might try to prevent it. You travel all over dangerous lands, and stay on the sidelines as he slays any beast or men that poses a threat. He really should have allowed you a dagger, or at least hide you somewhere safe when working a contract.

• He'd heard your panicked scream when one of the wolves managed to get passed him and corner you. It was as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, and the world was moving in slow motion. In reality he'd spun on his heel in an instant and thrown a knife into the wolfs throat before it could do anymore harm to you.

• He dispatched of the rest of the wolves, and rushed to your side as you sit on the ground, leaning against a tree and cradling your bleeding leg. He'd been making you wear trousers, as they were easier for you to travel in, but now he wished you'd had a dress on, as it would have been easier to get to the gash without causing you anymore pain.

• But that wasn't the case, so Geralt had to unlace the pants and pull them down until he can reach the gash. Cleaning it and dressing it as best he could, even taking advice from you when you told him what herbs would be best. Afterwards he pulled the pants back up as gently as he could, and pulled you up into his arms.

• After finding a safe place in the woods, Geralt set up a large camp. Somewhere for you to rest until your leg was healed, and where you would later train with a sword. He wouldn't make this mistake again, so he will make sure you can protect yourself properly if he cannot. While your leg is injured he would carry you everywhere, or let you ride Roach while he walked beside you to catch you if you fell.

| Is Geralts obsession in any way sexual? |

• In the very very beginning it wasn't sexual to him, you were to pure in his mind in the very beginning. But as time goes by, his love blooms into desire, which will deepen as his obsession grows, and even more so when he sees you bathe after he's taken you captive. He had to make sure you wouldn't run, and sometimes he couldn't help but look at you.

• He may be yandere and at times cruel, but he will not force himself onto you. Not for a kiss or anything else. Even when he wants to cuddle at night, he lets you initiate it, which due to the cold you did so often even when you were still fighting against him.

• But when you finally give into him, and begin to see his love and begin to love him in return. He's like a starved beast, everything is so fierce and intense, yet he is still gentle with you, knowing if he took it to far he could seriously hurt you, and that's the last thing he'd ever want.

• No one and I mean no one but Geralt can see your naked body. Not even the female maids you cross paths with in castles or keeps. If you need assistance in the bath or with your clothes Geralt will be the only one to help you. If someone barges in while you're in a compromising situation, he'll dispose of them for ever looking at what is for his eyes and his eyes alone. Doesn't matter to him who it is, and this could really prove to be a problem if it's someone of great importance.

• He's addicted to your taste, from the taste of your kisses, to the taste if your dripping pussy. Geralt would spend all day and night with his head buried between your thighs if you allowed him to. By the time he's finished with you, he'll be the only god you'll ever pray to.

• Geralt also fucking loves watching you ride his cock, and he doesn't care where you are when you do it. In the woods, an inn, a castle or keep, doesn't matter in the slightest. The sight if his cock stretching you out is far to divine a sight to pass up, not to mention how fucking incredible you look as you use him to fuck yourself into oblivion.

• Geralt will totally melt if you insist on sucking his cock, you look so precious and you do so well he doesn't honestly last long when you suck him off. Sometimes he'll order you to suck his cock and talk about all the filthy things he's gonna do to you as you work his length. But the he still much rather prefers to eat you out.

• He'll leave bruises on your skin from how tightly he holds you as he's fucking you. Sometimes he'll even leave bite marks, but he prefers when you bite him, it's just so primal feeling and he can't get enough. Geralt will warship your entire body for hours before sex and oftentimes after sex as well. Tender overstimulation and aftercare are his specialty.

• Geralt would give you the world on a silver platter if he could, but since that's easier said than done, he'll offer you his body to use as you please whenever you so please. And he feels most at home with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so be prepared for all the cockwarming you can take, because now there's no other way to sleep.

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

*Alrighty y'all I'm feeling better finally, and I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing. So I hope you enjoyed this piece, and know that if you've sent in a request I've got them in my drafts and I'm slowly working on them again.

- The Jaded Monkey 🐒

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aifanfictions · 11 months

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Path of Valor

Chapter 1: The Hunter and the Witcher

In the heart of the Continent, where monsters and magic coexisted, there was a small village nestled on the edge of a dense, dark forest. The villagers led a simple life, sustained by the bounty of the land and the forest, but they knew that their existence was constantly threatened by the very woods that sustained them.

One fateful morning, (Y/N), a young woman with fiery determination in her eyes and a lithe grace in her step, embarked on a hunting expedition. Her village depended on her skills as a hunter, for she had a unique ability to track and subdue the most formidable of creatures. Her natural talent for hunting, combined with her knowledge of herbs and the healing arts, made her an invaluable member of the community.

As she ventured deep into the forest, her bow at the ready and her senses attuned to the slightest movement, (Y/N) encountered a trail of blood. It was a clear sign of a wounded creature nearby. She followed the crimson trail with caution, her footsteps silent as a shadow.

Soon, she came across the wounded creature, but it was no ordinary beast. Instead, she found a man—a Witcher—his long, white hair matted with dirt and blood, his eyes closed as he lay in the undergrowth.

Her heart raced as she knelt beside him, examining his injuries. The Witcher bore the unmistakable signs of a fierce battle with a monstrous foe. Gently, she cleaned his wounds with a poultice she had crafted from herbs she had gathered earlier.

It was a painstaking process, but (Y/N) knew the importance of tending to his injuries. She couldn't leave a fellow traveler wounded in the dangerous forest. Once the Witcher's wounds were cleaned and bandaged, she used a mixture of herbs to brew a potent healing potion. After carefully pouring it down his throat, she waited.

Hours passed, and (Y/N) sat vigil beside the unconscious Witcher. The forest was her ally, and the creatures of the woods, sensing her benevolent intent, allowed her to tend to her unexpected guest in peace.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, the Witcher stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. His amber eyes met (Y/N)'s, and there was a moment of silent understanding that passed between them.

"You saved me," he rasped, his voice betraying both gratitude and curiosity.

(Y/N) nodded. "It's not safe to leave a wounded soul in these woods. What happened to you?"

The Witcher hesitated for a moment, his eyes darkening with memories of the battle. "I was tracking a griffin," he finally replied. "It fought fiercely, but I managed to wound it. It fled into the woods."

(Y/N)'s brows furrowed. "Griffins are rarely seen in this region. What brought you here?"

The Witcher's lips curled into a faint smile. "I heard tales of a skilled hunter who resides in this village. I came to seek your aid in tracking the griffin."

(Y/N) considered his words and realized that she was presented with an opportunity. She had always longed for more than the life of a village hunter. The Witcher's presence could open new horizons, granting her the adventure she had yearned for.

"Very well," she said, determination gleaming in her eyes. "I will help you track the griffin, but in return, I have a proposal of my own."

The Witcher raised an inquisitive brow, his gaze locked on (Y/N).

"I want to accompany you on your adventures," she declared. "I've seen the wounds you bear, and I know the dangers you face. With my skills as a herbalist, hunter, and healer, I can be of great use to you."

The Witcher, known as Geralt of Rivia, considered her offer. He knew the road he walked was perilous, but he also recognized the invaluable talents (Y/N) possessed.

Finally, he nodded. "Agreed."

With the deal struck, they gathered their belongings, and (Y/N) led Geralt to her village, where he could rest and recover further. The village welcomed him with cautious curiosity. Word of a Witcher in their midst had spread like wildfire.

As Geralt rested, (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder about his past, his scars, and the monsters he had faced. The other villagers watched him with a mixture of fascination and fear. But (Y/N) saw something more—the weary eyes of a warrior, burdened by the weight of countless battles.

In the days that followed, (Y/N) cared for Geralt's wounds, ensuring that he regained his strength. She mixed poultices and brewed potions, all the while observing his silent and stoic nature. Yet, in his moments of vulnerability, she glimpsed the man behind the Witcher's facade—a man shaped by trials, both internal and external.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village came alive with the soft glow of lanterns, (Y/N) sat with Geralt by a crackling fire. She offered him a bowl of hearty stew, and they ate in companionable silence.

She finally broke the quietude. "Geralt, tell me about your world—the world of Witchers."

His golden eyes met hers, and he spoke, his voice steady. "It's a world filled with darkness, (Y/N), where monsters lurk in the shadows. Witchers are trained from a young age to hunt and eliminate those monsters. We're mutants, subjected to alchemical experiments that grant us enhanced abilities. But these gifts come at a cost."

(Y/N) nodded, sensing the weight of his words. "The cost of isolation and mistrust."

Geralt's gaze remained fixed on the fire. "Yes, Witchers are feared and often shunned by the very people they protect. But it's a life I've chosen, and it's a life that carries a purpose."

In that moment, (Y/N

) felt a surge of empathy for the Witcher, for the trials he had faced, and the choices he had made. She saw beyond the scars and the gruff exterior, recognizing the depth of his character.

"Your purpose has brought you to my village," she said, her voice soft and compassionate. "And it's a purpose I want to share. Together, we can face the monsters, the darkness, and the unknown. With your skills and my knowledge, we can make a difference."

Geralt studied her with those piercing golden eyes, as if assessing her sincerity. After a moment, he nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Very well, (Y/N). We'll be partners in this journey."

Their alliance was sealed, and the village, which had initially held its reservations, began to accept Geralt as one of their own. The skilled hunter and the enigmatic Witcher became a formidable team, combining their talents to protect the village and venture into the treacherous forest.

As the weeks passed, (Y/N) honed her combat skills under Geralt's guidance, learning to wield a sword and defend herself against the supernatural threats that lurked in the woods. In turn, she taught him the secrets of herblore and the delicate art of healing, using the very forest that had once been a source of danger to mend wounds and cure ailments.

Their partnership blossomed into a genuine friendship, and the bond between them deepened with each shared victory and challenge. (Y/N) admired Geralt's unwavering determination and the code of ethics he followed in a world where morality often blurred into gray areas.

One crisp morning, as they prepared to venture deeper into the forest, Geralt approached (Y/N). He carried a silver pendant, a Witcher's medallion, and handed it to her. "This medallion is a symbol of our partnership," he said. "It's said to react in the presence of magic and danger. Keep it as a reminder of the journey we've embarked on together."

She accepted the medallion, tucking it safely beneath her clothing. "I will, Geralt. Together, we'll face the unknown, and we'll emerge stronger for it."

Their path led them through dark woods, across dangerous swamps, and into haunted ruins. They confronted fearsome beasts and powerful sorcery, their unwavering trust in one another becoming their greatest strength.

One evening, under a sky filled with countless stars, (Y/N) and Geralt sat by their campfire. The forest was alive with the songs of night creatures, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees. (Y/N) gazed up at the night sky, her eyes bright with wonder.

"I never imagined a life like this," she admitted, her voice tinged with awe. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything. The journey, the adventures, and the bond we share—it's everything I ever longed for."

Geralt, the stoic Witcher, found himself sharing a rare smile. "I, too, have found something unexpected on this path we walk together. You've given me a glimpse of a different world, a world where trust and compassion are worth fighting for."

Their horses grazed nearby, content and unhurried, embodying the serenity of that moment.

With a warm expression, Geralt extended a hand to (Y/N). "Come, (Y/N), we have many more tales to write in this journey. Let's see what the world has in store for us."

She took his hand, feeling the calluses of his palm against her own. They rose together, leaving the campfire to smolder in the darkness as they mounted their horses. With the silver Witcher's medallion resting against her heart, (Y/N) and Geralt rode on, their hearts set on a horizon filled with promise and adventure.

The hunter and the Witcher, bound by fate and choice, had found in each other the missing pieces of their respective journeys. In the world where monsters and magic were a constant presence, they were two souls who would stand as beacons of hope, light, and unbreakable trust.

Their adventures were only beginning, and in each challenge they faced, they discovered not only the monsters lurking in the shadows but the strength of the connection that grew between them. Together, (Y/N) and Geralt would write a story of valor, friendship, and the enduring spirit of those who dared to walk the path less traveled.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 1 year

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Of Monsters and Men

The Witcher Season 3

Chapter 1 - Shaerrawedd

Summery: Constantly on the run to protect Ciri’s life. You, Geralt, and Yennefer face deadly foes while trying to keep the peace between the three of you.

Warning: fighting, blood

Of Monsters and Men masterlist

They came for her again last night in the hills by the water. Before that, a few weeks past with some guards and a man with glasses. Some professor. All of them hired by that fire mage, Reince. The reason your traveling party hasn't been able to take a rest for longer then a week at a time.

You'd left Kaer Morhen a time ago with Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer. Jaskier choosing to go his own way for awhile, concerned about his safety and wellbeing and all that. Understandable. So the four of you left, traveling with the intention of living somewhere for as long as Cirilla needed. A place where she could learn to fight and tune into her natural magical gifts.

Somewhere safe and comfortable. A home to grow and enjoy life for all that it is and can be. The place you'd help raise Ciri until she was strong enough, until she was ready to force Nilfgaard back into their den. Or become a Witcher like Geralt. Whatever her choice, she would be well prepared for it by then.

However, life refuses to make this easy for anyone. Men hunting you four always. Hiding and sneaking in the dark, a few in broad daylight, a couple on horseback. All have come to take her and kill you, Geralt, and Yennefer. All have failed. Yet these events have made Geralt all the more paranoid, more so then he's ever been.

You go through it a day at a time. Teaching Cirilla how to fight, how to hold a blade, how to survive. Yennefer teaches her magic and control of chaos. Geralt teaches her about herbs, monsters, and Witcher things. Together she's got wonderfully exceptional teachers. The best at what they do, the perfect guides for her.

You understand her urgency to grow and learn, but you also know running from place to place is wearing her out. If not now, later. She's bright and fearsome as a spring flower. She doesn't deserve to be hunted for her existence. You know all to well what that felt like, how it still feels. Hunted for what you are. Tracked ruthlessly for days on end.

This is no life for a young girl. Being on the run.

Your hand touches the rough bark of a tree as you press your body against the trunk. High up into the canopy of an evergreen, watching over the snow covered forest for any sign of a threat. The night is dark and the snow falls gently from all around you. Below is your companions camp. They're sleeping near the horses in their thick blankets and clothing. Ciri is wearing your cloak.

You can't feel the cold so your attire looks slightly out of place here. You look more prepared for the spring then this chilly winter weather. All in all, it bothers you not.

You scan the woods but see nothing of any concern. You're far enough north, you haven't seen another person in days. You stay in the tree, siting down with your back against the trunk this time. Letting your head rest pressed to the bark. The scent is an earthy one with remnants of home in the pines outside your mothers castle. There, you'd do the same as you are now. Sit and watch from a hidden point of view.

Circumstances greatly different.

Your mind wanders to the events that led you thus far in your journey since the banquet. That damned party. The place in Cintra where it all began, where destiny chose to push you on a new path. Oh so long ago. A far away memory.

Their tranquil breathing is a good sign that they're all sleep. Some nights you'd keep watch till the dark blue hour before dawn and Geralt would still be awake. Other times that would be Yennefer. Yes, your dear friend Yennefer. She is doing her best for Ciri. She is an immensely patient help to the girl. She is what Cirilla has needed for a long time.

You have been giving her a hard time anyways. You love her, you really do. She's your friend, you considered her your sister at one point due to your closeness and history. You've known one another a very long time. Longer then Geralt. Yet she had hurt you deeply.

Many moons ago she had taken whom you have grown to love and protect. The Cintran princess. Ciri. She had been tricked and deceived by Yennefer just as she did to you. All in the name of chaos. Granted, Yennefer couldn't give Ciri away when it came time for the act to be done. She did go forth with the plans to obtain the enchanted girl anyhow. And she did succeed. She took Ciri from you.

Though Geralt gives a word or two to the mage. You haven't been able to bring yourself to say anything at all. You still feel all too strange about it. Puts a bad taste in your mouth. Most notably, it's severed the trust you had built with her. You'd wished it never happened, and yet it did.

You wished there was no battle at Sodden, you wished that Yennefer never disappeared and lost her powers all at once, and you wished she never took Ciri from you. Those things cannot be undone and you understand this. Some acts are meant to happen for other things to take place. No matter if they hurt or not.

Things will be better, you know this in your heart.

Your scarlet eyes fall upon Geralt tucked warm in his dark cloak, body sleeping on a thick mat. The fire next to his head flickers with the breeze, embers glowing deep fiery colors. You can smell the burnt wood. You can smell him. An odor you could find in the largest of cities, no matter how far he went wandering. A strong man smell of earth and metal. A Witcher's scent.

Tomorrow you'll sleep in a bed. You're sure of it.

———

The day turned to gray storm clouds faster then you'd have liked, bringing wet icy-cold snow from the heavens. Every time you exhaled a puff of white was sure to follow. You could tell the winter chill was beginning to weigh heavy on the other two ladies by the time you all reached Yarpen's home.

The feisty foul mouthed dwarf you first met on the trip to kill that dragon. He welcomed you four nonetheless, though he made himself clear not to touch a thing. And that payment would be due for this unexpected arrival. He did remember you however, and he made it known to stay away from him. Joking of course. Well......you couldn't completely tell.

Fortunately he had room to spare. You, Geralt, and Ciri to one house. Yennefer to the other. You could tell she would have liked your distance to be within a few feet. And maybe a word or two. But you didn't look at her so she knew better then to join you three in the small house. You're not ready to share a conversation just yet.

A few nights passed after the first. You all finding your new home quiet suitable for the time. It's safe and warm. It's far from people and any towns. Secluded. Just how you'd prefer. Just how Geralt likes it. Just what Ciri needs.

You've talked it over with Geralt a few days back. To live here with Ciri and Yennefer until the girl is ready. Keep here through the seasons and let her grow in body and magic. Stay in this quiet place by the water and the pines. You'd like that, but you know Geralt too well.

—

The axe cuts through cold wood on the stand, two chunks of now smaller wood falls to either side. Geralt reaches down for another while you stand nearby with the letter Yennefer stuck to your door. You hold the parchment in your hand and begin. "Dear friends, we're so far off the map here that we may never leave again. Come to think of it, would that be such a bad thing? We'll continue magic lessons before the ice melts, I promise. But for now, perhaps the girl deserves a break. Perhaps you both and I do too. Your friend, Yennefer."

Geralt says nothing. You let the moment pass while he cuts another log in half. "Well?" You ask.

"Hmm?" Another log is cut.

You fold the paper, glancing over to Yennefer and Ciri ice skating together a short distance away. "You have nothing to speak of it?"

"She's trying." He grunts. Two more pieces of wood fall to the piles in the snow.

"I do agree this place is good for us, all of us. But I don't know about waiting too long for these lessons."

"She is still young."

You absentmindedly turn the paper in your hand. "So was I."

He cuts another chunk, then he gives you his full attention. "Her mother wasn't a vampire."

"But she was a queen. Just like my mother. She cannot waste time."

"She has us, do not forget that." His golden eyes shine bright with truth. "She is bound to us."

You watch the young girl smile and laugh with Yennefer, they're a sweet pair losing their footing on the slick ice. They're not very good with skates and yet they're enjoying themselves immensely. You can't help the small smile forming onto your features. "You're right. She has us and she needs laughter if she means to live to her eighteenth birthday."

"You should join them." He suggests with a kind grin.

You set your eyes back to Geralt, "Don't be ridiculous, I'd look a fool." His laughter is sweet as you kick a piece of wood, sending it sailing towards the forest. "Why don't you join them?" He holds up his axe and you flick a hand at him like you mean to swat him like a fly. "Oh shut up."

He smiles again, admiring you dearly.

———

The days pass and the snow stops falling yet it still sticks to the ground. Still keeping your boots wet and some feelings damp.

It may have taken awhile, but one evening Geralt let Yennefer in for dinner. She invited herself, but you could tell Ciri was glad to have her there, so you didn't mind. The time spent was not wasted and the meal was good, though you could not let yourself speak to her. At the end of the night all you gifted the mage was a simple good night and that was it. She smiled when she left. You looked to Geralt and he smiled at you. Giving your hand a squeeze.

A day later you said hello when passing her to hunt for deer in the woods. The next evening you invited her to dinner, well you sent Ciri to invite her. But Ciri told Yennefer you did....you were simply too busy to do it yourself. And now, much to Geralt's surprise, you're about to give Yennefer some extra wine.

You're not forgiving her, but you do miss talking to her. Geralt isn't exactly the best conversationalist of the group and Yarpen is more or less off-put by your presence. Ciri is kind but sometimes you merely want another adult woman to talk to. The horses don't care to listen. So Yennefer it is.

Your boots press into the snow covered earth as you grip the wine bottles handle. You're still uncertain of this decision but Geralt insisted it was the right choice. You are all Cirilla's parents in one way or another, so keeping ties strong should be important. You're still not sure if this is a good idea.

It's too late once you reach the thin wooden door. Just before your knuckles make impact with the wood, it opens. Surprising you, however you don't flinch. Long black hair and two exquisite lavender irises stare back at you. She smiles warmly. "Y/N." A soft, happy voice.

"Yenns." Her old nickname slips out before you can stop it.

Her smile never fades. "You need..."

"Wine." You finish. "I know you needed some more. So I brought you this." You stiffly hold up the large bottle for her to take.

"Oh?" She takes the unexpected gift. "Thank you. I did need some more."

You give a small nod, taking a step back as you mean to leave now. She's unsure of herself or what to say and you don't stick around to listen. You're halfway across the yard when she calls for you. Unlike other times, you stop and turn around.

She's still at the door with the wine bottle in her hand. "Maybe we could share this an evening?" Shaking the bottle to further promote the hopeful question. You can hear it slosh around from here, you can still smell it too. What a lovely scent. Reminds you of the vineyards in Rinde.

"Will there be dancing and music?" You jest.

She tilts her head knowingly, appreciating your light humor again. "It can be arranged."

She watches you flash a quick half grin before turning and continuing on your way. She has waited months for that, not sharing a few words with you has been almost as horrible as losing her magic. Perhaps she'll tell you that when the time is right.

———

Outdoors and crouched by the fire a short distance from the houses, you poke the burning embers with a stick as Yarpen pulls his wagon past you. His horse flicks it's tail as he shouts for it to stop. You stand and go to help unload, Geralt and Yarpen are already taking baskets off the cart by the time you reach them. Though it appears the dwarf is less satisfied with this haul.

"Wish I had more for ya, but the Squirrels hit Henselt's convoy." He says, standing on the porch, picking up a potato from a bag. "Look at these. Potatoes the size of gnome nuts."

The Squirrels, some band of thieves that keep bothering travelers.

Ciri and Yennefer join when you grab a leather bag of something smelling of old bread. "Did they attack your convoy as well?" Asks Geralt, setting a basket onto the porch.

Yarpen scoffs. "I'd like to see them fuckin' try it!" He states, leaning into the wagons side. "The elves' gripe is with the kings, not us. They're just trying to soften the North for the grand cock of Nilfgaard." He makes a little gesture with his thumb and pointer finger. Insinuating Nilfgaards cock is indeed tiny.

"Nilfgaard gave elves refuge, and now they're fighting on their behalf." Adds Yennefer while you walk past with a bag of apples, giving her one in the process. "Amazing what people will do when you give them a second chance." She muses, taking a bite to hide her smile.

Yarpen doesn't miss the subtleties. His brows furrow as he points between you two. "Hold on! You're talking to creepy eyes again?" You glare at him as he laughs. "Bout' time too. I was fearin' we'd never have Spring if you two lassies didn't lighten up. Reminds me, our Belleteyn festival is just down the valley." He turns his attention to Ciri. "You should come."

Ciri grins, excited at the thought. "I'd love to."

"Bad idea."

"It's not safe." Are promptly heard by Geralt and Yennefer just before you add. "Alright." In agreement to this lively spring gathering. A princess should have fun after all, shouldn't they?

The two of them look at you, surprised. Ciri appears rather elated. You shrug at the hesitation from the older ones. "No one's asked about her in months. Everyone will be in costume and we'll be there." They remain unconvinced. "We can handle ourselves."

"And...I was born on Belleteyn." Adds Ciri, looking between the three of you.

Yarpen grins mischievously. "Ah! You'd have had a shot at bein' May Queen. Except my niece's beard is comin' in nice and full this year. May be some competition. Hahaha..." His laughter is rapid and annoying with that accent of his, but you don't mind his enthusiasm. Geralt gives him a warning glance as he walks around him to pick up more stuff from the wagon.

"Just say yes, already!" Shouts Yarpen, irritated with Geralt's usual disapproval. "About time for a fuckin' thaw round here." He walks off to sort his things, no doubt fed up with the lack of adventure radiating off of your group.

Ciri approaches Geralt. "I promise I'll be safe." He sighs, taking his focus off of the wooden box he's about to grab from the wagon.

Taking out a bottle of wine from the box in your left arm, you casually flip it in your hand. "We may not have the grandest luck, but honestly with us so far out here. How bad can a Spring festival be?"

———

"I feel ridiculous in this thing."

Sat diligently in his chair, Geralt turns around to meet you in a rather beautiful dress. You stand there like a fish out of water in a green thing that makes you look like some sort of queen of the water nymphs. It is gorgeous and spring-like, but it is Yennefer's extra gown. Not quite your taste by any means.

Geralt keeps silent, too awe struck to speak a word, no less think to create one. He's never seen you in such color before. His golden eyes scan all over your dress, the way it sits on your body, the way it hugs in just the right places. He finally stands and approaches. His eyes are dazzling as he looks into yours. "You look lovely." He says softly. "So beautiful my dear Y/N."

Your irritations slink back with the sweet words. You can't help but reach up to hold his cheeks in your nimble hands. His strong ones resting on your hips. "Thank you. Though I may have neglected to realize I would need a dress for this thing."

He squeezes your hips. "Would you have me take it off you then?"

Heat immediately blossoms in your nether regions with his sly words, enticing question indeed. You rub your thumb over his lips. "Perhaps." You gift him a tender kiss. "When we return."

"Now let's get going shall we?" Geralt parts from you to open the door, he holds it for you and gives a slight nod of his head. "Your carriage is waiting my princess."

You step past him but not before running your finger across his broad chest. "Why thank you sir. Will you be with me all night?" Gerald chuckles as he follows you out the door.

"If you'll have me." He adds, playing along.

You smile deviously. "Wonderful. We're going to have a brilliant time."

———

It didn't take long until the lot of you had made it to the Belleteyn festival. It didn't take long for you all to get to comfortable and thus before you knew it, shit went south. The night was filled with fires and food and music. Joy and laughter and drunken spirits. Then in the maze, a place that was meant to be an enjoyable time with company. A place to get lost in for a little while and act silly as you tried to find the way out. It was fun.

Then you heard something. So faint, a movement on the earth. A rolling vibration, many legs, a mass of energy larger then anything that should have been at Belleteyn. Geralt didn't hear it. No one around you wandering the maze revealed any inclination of hearing this mysterious being. You knew it was alive and going somewhere.

Then you caught it's foul scent when the wind changed. Putrid and stinking like an insect left with a rotting corpse. Then the sound and the smell intertwined as it neared wherever it was in the maze. Yes, it had entered the maze. And no sooner did the name of the creature leave your lips did the terrified screams begin.

Geralt ran and so did you. Luckily Yennefer came to Ciri's aid faster then either of you could get there. Together, the Jackapace was defeated and no one from your company was wounded. But it hurt knowing what this meant, and so here you are now. A new plan settled and mapped. A different turn in your ongoing traveling protection team. One crafted by Ciri herself.

To lure Reince out of his hole. The fire mage who sent the Jackapace, the one who has been sending all those men after your group. After Cirilla. After you. He stole her Elder blood in Kaer Morhen and used it on the Jackapace, once they have a scent, they never stop hunting. Always a problem, always running and running and running.

You miss those days before all this. Before Ciri and Jaskier and when it was just you and Geralt traveling the Continent. Just you and your Witcher together. Old times. Good times they were.

Now you're being sent to the closest city over to bring back Jaskier, so he can help your merry band lure Reince out. You would greatly enjoy a week without this hiding and moving to just sleep in a tavern with Geralt. Oh how destiny has other plans for you.

———

Redania isn't so bad, well if not for the smell it really wouldn't be such a dull place in your eyes. Though you've never been fond of cities to begin with. Always terrible smells and loud noises, drunken folk and watchful guards. Too many people.

You walk past merchants selling their wares, children running with a dog, and others shopping in the streets. Men laugh loudly from a tavern on your right while a horse screams on your left when a fool smacks it's arse. Women hurry past you to get to where they're going. A boy almost runs into your legs, not looking as to where he's going. If there's one blessed thing about cities, people don't pay you any mind here.

You hunt for the Sandpiper. You know where he stays when he's not at the taverns or wooing ladies at the court. And if you're lucky, he won't be in the middle of entertaining that blonde woman again. What she sees in those bright blue eyes of his, you have not a clue. He's a bit too loquacious for your taste.

You still love him for his quirks anyway.

Past a man with a brown and yellow snake around his hand, you turn the corner and stop, your legs have brought you to a riveting sight to be seen. A woman with dark hair and plush deep red lips is, what it appears to be, threatening Jaskier. She's close to him and she reeks of magic. A mage. A man with reddish blonde hair stands off to her right, he wears royal clothing. Furs and red. They are undoubtedly Redanian figures of importance you're sure of that.

Unfortunately, you don't catch the conversation and just as you came, they leave him. You watch them walk off somewhere else, a few guards following dutifully behind. Not wasting a moment longer, you're behind Jaskier and holding up his lute that was on the ground for some reason. He doesn't hear a thing.

"Will you sing me a song for a few coins? It's all I have." You tease the distraught bard. He instantly recognizes your voice.

"Now this..." Jaskier turns around to see you at long last and by the looks of it, he's genuinely glad to see you. "Is a delightful surprise." He smiles blissfully, not even aware that his lute is in your hands. "Still ever so radiant, and terrifying and uh why...why are you here? Is Geralt here too? Ciri? You guys hunting something or just stopping by finally to hear me sing with my...oh right. My lute."

You give it a little strum. "Just me."

"Yes and though I am thrilled to see one of my very best of friends again. Whenever I see you and those magnificent ruby red eyes of yours. I know it means trouble." He points. "Or you've come to your little vampirey senses and realized I'm way more interesting then Geralt and a joy to hang around."

Plucking some cords, you share a fangy grin. One that is devilish and beautiful. "Oh how I've missed you. But no, not here to listen to your sweet voice nor protect your bum when that mouth of yours gives more then your coins do."

Jaskier laughs. "That's fair I suppose."

"Yes, but I do need you." You insist with a nudge to his shoulder.

Jaskier's face falls. "Oh no, no, no. What is it this time?"

•••

"Bait!" Exclaims Jaskier. "I rode for days with Y/N, mind you, to get here. Battling hunger, battling the elements, only to discover upon my arrival that I'm being used as..."

"Jaskier, me." Interrupts Ciri as she walks with her horse, Jaskier doing the same, you in between them. Notably without a horse to lead.

"...bait."

"I am the bait. Rience is after me." Adds Ciri matter-of-factly.

"Yes, which means he wants you alive, and me very much not alive. You see my anxiety?" He insists, loudly. Dramatic.

"We're not gonna let anything happen to you Jaskier." Says Geralt now as he and Yennefer ride near on their own horses. The three of you stop as they approach closer.

"I saved your arse once. I can do it again, Pankratz." Adds Yennefer as Jaskier casts his eyes on her doubtfully.

"You didn't save me..." He glances between you and Ciri. "She didn't save me. She.." You both begin to smile as his horse snorts at him. "She didn't! But seriously, you are gonna save me, right?"

"Of course, Jask." You pat him on the arm. "Have we not before?"

He scoffs. "Well, there's been moments. Moments where I've feared for my sweet lovely life."

"Seem fine to me." Whispers Ciri, holding back a grin.

"Ah, ah, ah! I may look it, yes. But the memories. The things I've seen because of them." Jaskier waves a hand at you and Geralt and Yennefer. "I should be more traumatized then I appear. I probably am really."

"Oh you little princess." You playfully start as Ciri begins to giggle with amusement. Jaskier just swats you away, poking at you until you move out of reach from him.

"Be gone woman!" Says Jaskier, still whipping his hand around. "Mean." He leans his head close to Ciri, trying real hard to whisper. "She may save your life but she won't save you from her insults." Ciri simply nods, holding back a laugh.

Rolling your eyes, you rest a hand on your hip. "I can hear that."

"Oh I know you can!" He shouts dramatically, enjoying your friendly squabble. "Maybe I wanted you to!"

You stick your tongue out at him. Jaskier does it back. You make your face contort a little to show off the more vampiric side of you. Jaskier hisses, pulling down the bottom eyelid of his left eye. Your skin begins to turn grey, irises glowing blood red and fiery orange near the pupils. Jaskier kicks a foot out like some drunken man attempting to brawl.

"Alright you two." Sternly breaks the voice of Geralt. You and Jaskier return to your composure. "We won't make Hagge by sunset." Geralt looks to his left, the landscape with its small hills, trees, and an old ruin. "We'll make camp here."

"Sleeping in the woods again?!" Complains Jaskier. "Honestly!"

—

Your party, consisting of your friends and Yarpen's, settle among the broken rock of the ruined tower. You all take your time to set up camp, built small fires for their warmth and let the horses feed. When curiosity takes the better of Cirilla, yourself, Geralt, and Yennefer follow her to the center of the ruins. A more quieter place from the others.

Here the ground is open dirt with little grass but in fair patches scattered about and near the rocks. Further is an unambiguous platform made of stone, a large statue of an elven woman in the center. Two sets of stairs lead on either side of her to another platform the same as the first. Around this, and this old courtyard of sorts, the walls are tall with open doorways of high arches leading further into the structure. You can feel the energy of this place, it's violence and pain.

You can almost smell the blood.

"What is this place?" Asks Ciri as she goes on ahead, captivated by its melancholy beauty.

"It's Shaerrawedd." Answers Geralt. He knows the story just as Yennefer and you do. Though you were alive on the Continent when it took place, they had yet to exist.

Your scarlet irises linger over the white roses growing in patches here, below rocks, and at the bottom of the weathered statue. "Tread lightly. This land is full of stories." Warns Yennefer, not wanting Ciri to touch something and risk a vision. The imagery would be a horrible sight, you know this just as they do.

Ciri approaches the stone platform, enchanted blue-green eyes bewitched by the flowers in such an odd place. "Never seen so many wild roses in one place. They're beautiful." She admits, stopping in front of the elven woman of stone.

The three of you stand to either side slightly behind her. You focus onto the moss crawling up the sides of the carved robes. "Their story, sadly, is not." You stop next to Ciri who looks up at you, your eyes never leaving the moss. "Aelirenn. A brave and inspiring elven warrior who thought she could defeat the humans. She was wrong."

Yennefer steps closer to the roses. "A rather condensed version of the story." Spoken with a tinge of bitterness. She is of elven blood so you understand.

"And what's yours, then?" Asks Ciri.

Yennefer turns to address the young girl. "After the Conjunction, humans arrived. The elves thought the humans were just a nuisance, like a plague of locusts or a drought. That they would die off in the blink of an elven eye. But the humans kept multiplying. And killing." Yennefer glances up at the statue. "Aelirenn knew the threat wasn't going away. So she rallied all of the young elves to fight, at Shaerrawedd."

"Sounds like she fought for what she believed in." Says Ciri, admiring the statue as well. "To protect her people."

Geralt rests an arm around her shoulders. "She did fight for what she believed in. She led those young and passionate elves to war. They revered this place. This is were they fought. They fought for her. And they died with her name on their lips and their honor and integrity intact. And in doing so, they condemned their species to annihilation. She led them all to their deaths." Geralt explaines, giving a remorseful sigh. "Neutrality. It won't get you a statue. But it'll certainly help in keeping you alive."

He gives her shoulders a comforting squeeze before releasing her and choosing to head back to camp. You can sense his unsettlement with this place the longer he lingers around. Yennefer stays a moment and then turns to leave as well, you doing the same. This is no place to sit and remember it's history.

———

The night arrives and you tuck in close to Geralt. There is not much to say with Ciri and Yennefer sleeping so near, a usual and necessary occurrence these past few months. The four of you can't seem to get away from one another for too long. Then again, the world hasn't quite let you. Ciri is much too important for you all to disperse and go your separate ways. A ridiculous thought really.

You can't complain with a white haired Witcher at your side and a heart beating only for you. He is moody, tranquil, and formidable. Yet he is gentle, soft-hearted, and deeply alluring. You would never trade him for all the gems and gold in the entire world. And at your origins, you are a princess. Daughter to the Vampire Queen, the first vampire in all of the Continent. A pure-blood vampire. One who was never turned, simply born as she is. A true terror. Your mother.

You haven't seen her in centuries.

Geralt pulls you close, his chest pressed to your back with his arm slung lazily over your waist. He's sleeping though his hand holds yours, a soft grip that remains with his unconsciousness. He holds you when he sleeps, you know this is the only time he fully relaxes. He knows you sleep light and would, and have, protected him when he slumbers. He knows he's safe now.

Your lips press to his fingers and you snuggle in closer, if that's even possible. You relax and listen to the careful thudding of his heartbeat. You can feel his chest rise and fall. Hear the expansion of his lungs, the contraction of the heart in his chest. At first when you began traveling with him, these human sounds would bother you. You'd close your eyes and smell the blood through the skin and hate yourself for the thoughts that would arise.

Then, as a new night would arrive, those thoughts of blood and natural hunger would disappear. Disappear until they were no more. Now you relish in the presence of Geralt and all his essence that keeps him alive and well. The vessel containing spirit. The soul of your beloved Witcher. Without him in your immortal life, even knowing this will not last, you wouldn't have ever changed meeting him.

So you sleep and wait for dawn.

—

When the first morning bird fluttered down from its perch on the thin branches above. Before it opened its throat to sing of the rising dawn, you woke. The rustle of feathers and the quick movement of its three pronged feet reached your ears in sleep. Your ears with their slight pointed look, the inherent characteristic of a vampire. No matter if you are half or not. Your mothers blood is far too powerful. By right you are a damphir, yet your blood gives you the strength of a pure-blood.

Not all attributes are a delight. The noise of the small bird is enough to keep you awake, granted more time spent held in the wee hours of the morning with Geralt is bliss. But when you find the pink of the sky readying to turn everything bright again. You cannot make yourself stay and lay docile when you know others hunt for your people. And you.

Silent as the winter snow falling from the heavens. You slip from Geralt's embrace and away from Ciri and Yennefer who continue to catch needed rest. You make not a sound as your legs take you throughout the camp, this is unintentional but you cannot help the gentleness of your footing.

You check on Jaskier who is fine. Then the dwarves still sleeping and the horses keeping watch. When your nose picks up the scent of smoke, are you following it to a small gathering of branches. Yarpen tending to it with a stick in his hand. You stand silently, observing his movements like a fox on a hillside. He remains unaware for a few minutes until your curiosity causes you to speak.

"Cold?" Your voice cuts through the morning chill though gentle it may be. Yarpen jumps like a startled dog, almost managing to throw his stick in the air.

"Well fuckin' gods ye tryin to kill meh?" He yells with a hand over his chest. "When in the great fuck did you get here?"

"Apologies. I did not mean to scare you."

Yarpen laughs merrily, shoulders relaxing as he takes a seat on the rock near him. "Ay, not many bastards can do that." He points the stick at you. "You're not like those silly old cats anyways. Odd bugger you are." He chuckles, resting the stick over his knees.

You glance at the ruins of Shaerrawedd. "Indeed." Voice soft and reflective.

Yarpen cannot tell if he's offended you or you're simply lost in thought, perhaps pondering a matter intuitively. He shrugs. "Eh, you ain't so bad if Imma be honest with ye. Just uh, guess I'm not so fond of those sharp toothed bloodsuckers from the north." He muses.

You let out a humored breath. "I respect you for your truth. But I trust you because Geralt does." You swiftly turn to leave but stop a moment to speak to him from over your shoulder, he's intrigued by this. "Thank you for your help." And with that said, Yarpen blinks, readying to speak though you have already gone. He jumps up looking this way and that but you're nowhere to be seen.

He sits again, contemplating your words.

In the stronghold of the ruins of Shaerrawedd, you stand below the towering statue of the elven warrior. A she-elf who died fighting for her people. You remember her. That name from so long ago, you remember when your mother told you about what the elves were doing. What happened here. You could only see it as unfortunate but brave, not that a whole species was condemned in one battle.

Your kind was here before them and the humans. Surely these beings were meant to rise and fall and change and evolve. That's what creatures do who can die easily. That's how their kind survives and thrives.

You are immortal and cannot die like them, so you can only watch and understand, your mother would explain. Vampires are meant to remain forever and protect their own, keep the world in a sort of balance.

Whatever that meant.

Footsteps sound from a short distance behind you, small and delicate, coming to the place where you stand. They have not entered into this ruin but you need not move from panic, it is Cirilla. You wait for the young princess to join you if she chooses. The wait is not long.

When she gingerly approaches to your right, you give the girl a nod of acknowledgment. "Out for a walk?" You ask. Ciri goes to take a seat on a broken chunk of the ruin.

"I had another dream." She answers softly.

You nod. "Dreams huh? No dream you bring to me is ever filled with sweet marshmallow bunnies. Was it a nightmare?"

"No, it wasn't frightening. Just couldn't sleep thinking about Aelirenn. And my grandmother." She explains as you go to sit next to her. "They lived centuries apart, but burned with the exact same mission. Wipe the other species off the Continent."

Ciri stands up, eyes set to the statue and the white roses crawling up it from below. "When I finally fell asleep, it came to me." She kneels down to touch the beautiful flowers. "If I can offer something different. A way forward that doesn't divide, but unites." She stands once more. "I'm part elf, I'm part human. I understand both because I am both, and that is my strength."

"I understand what you're saying. History, it..." You sigh. "...has a way of repeating itself. Even for the idealistic."

"You say Aelirenn's idealism is what led to the massacre of the young elves, but maybe if her elders had supported her instead of abandoning her, they could've won." Ciri glances at the statue. "Yennefer said they have a saying."

You reiterate that saying in perfect Eldar. "What has been need not always be." You speak in common tongue. "Yennefer told me the elven queen, Francesca, could offer more to her people."

"So could I." Adds Ciri, defiantly. "Geralt taught me how to fight. Just like Calanthe. Yen has been teaching me how to harness my powers. Like Mousesack. And you, Y/N, you've taught me how to weald a blade. Something I always wished to know. What if this is the reason destiny brought us together? Nenneke said I have the power to change the cycle of hatred. And I want to. To bring balance between kings and mages, and to align the Continent, instead of constantly putting parts against each other. Because I am sick and tired of destruction and loss."

Her eyes are close to filling with tears of great frustration and sadness. You quickly stand and go to her, resting your hands on her thin shoulders. Sincerity in your voice. "I don't doubt you, Ciri. I do doubt the world, though." Your sensitive ears prick with the sounds of many footsteps. Clang of metal and hushed voices in the distance. Ciri immediately picks up on your abrupt silence.

Her eyes grow with confusion. "Y/N what is it?" She quickly turns to the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer running into the grove. "What's happening?"

Geralt has his sword in hand. "They're here."

"I know." You reply, taking hold of Ciri's hand. She looks up at you. "Be brave, child. We'll be near." You slip from her fingers and silently walk into the shadowed parts of the ruin.

Yennefer and Geralt talk to Ciri a moment before joining you in your hiding spot. You keep still and listen, they watch your face for the sign that Rience and his men are here. The one you four have conspired to draw out, luring him to his death as you'd planned. Ciri completing her duty well as the bait.

You didn't think they'd arrive so soon, but he is a fire mage who can portal after all. And he's irritatingly clever when it comes to tracking what he so desperately wants. You have no choice but to keep quiet and wait for the right time.

From under the ruin archway to your left, behind the statue of Aelirenn saunters out the fire mage and his equally as appalling men. You can smell the stink of horse and ash on them. The scent of magic, putrid and rotten, coming from Rience's vessel.

Ciri snaps her head around at his decrepit voice. "Cirilla of Cintra. Alone at last. Well, not quite. I've brought some friends this time." Says Rience, moving in with swaggered steps.

They get close, surrounding her in a half circle, preparing to strike. You resist the urge to move and aid her. The men begin their assault yet they are met with great resistance by the princess. She wasn't trained by the best of Kaer Morhen for nothing. She fights them off the best she can until Yennefer leaves the hidden space near you. She knows Ciri cannot do this alone.

You and Geralt join her with swift destruction. Yennefer duels with Rience as yourself and Geralt kill his men easily. That is until a few moments later when Rience is able to get a handle on Ciri. He holds her against his chest, one arm around her neck and a dagger to her throat.

A war cry is heard as Yarpen's men and Jaskier follow suit. They bare their weapons and clash with the fearsome enemy. You knew they'd come just when they were so desperately needed. This rush of noise and new faces takes Rience off guard. But not you nor Ciri.

You're busy with two angry men to help her but no sooner is one of the men bleeding on the ground when Ciri races away. A strangely blackish portal behind them. Rience holding his nose, more pissed off then ever. You watch as he falls back in pain straight into his portal, it begins to close when Yennefer holds out her opened hand. She forces it to remain open.

Before you can run after the fire mage, Geralt races into the unknown after him. Leaving Yennefer to keep the portal open until he returns. You hope he returns.

You drive your blade into the throat of a screaming man, blood spatters everywhere as it slips gracefully out again. You run to Yennefer and Cirilla but halt, deciding not to follow Geralt. You hear something new that keeps you back on the battlefield.

You whip around just as a small army of elves race out to join in the battle. Who they are and why they're here are half a mystery. You can only assume they must be with those rouge elves of the queen. While the why can only be known as Ciri as it's source. Of course they're here for her. Everyone always is. All the time. How would this be any different?

Not putting into question their exact motive. You only know to protect your own.

Yennefer stays her ground. Ciri runs for cover and you swing your sword at an approaching elven man, ready to let it taste blood. He's tall with dark hair braided back, his eyes sting with anger as he runs to you with swift footing. His arm moves a sword in hand, following its masters command. The metal clashes with your block, sparks flying from the force.

He draws forth for another attack, this time his sword arrives with a pointed jut. He tried to simply stab you. The point is easily deflected off to the side. When his body pulls with it, you cut his arm off and finish him with a slash to his back. He falls instantly. Screaming out in pain, blood splattering everywhere.

Two more follow after him, however they attack you simultaneously and without much fear. Their attacks are precise and clean, aiming to go for your head. This tells you they know who protects the Cintran princess. It's not every day you face someone who knows how to properly kill a damphir. If there's no fire and no silver. A decapitation will do just fine.

To die without your head. Not how you plan to go out.

The two elves are skilled, more then Reince's men, and more then some of the elves you've fought before. This excites you. They thrash and throw their blades at you, stepping and moving out of your attacks. Their hearts beat heavily within their chests, you can smell the sweat off their brow. You waste no time in bringing them down, however.

Then it's time to move again. You're off on your feet dodging through the mess of men, elves, and dwarves. Swords and axes singing on the air, voices shouting, limbs moving and falling around you. You smell the spilt blood. You hear the strained breaths.

Your eyes spot Ciri amongst the carnage. She's perused by a blonde elf with short messy hair and another with long brown hair. Less unkept then the first. They chase her but the blonde is struck down by a lone arrow, his partner remains. You follow. No sooner has the elven man grabbed her shoulder, yelling, "I've got her! I've got her!" Have you sent your blade straight through his armored chest from behind.

Ciri gasps. The elven man makes a soft wheeze of pain, your sword retreats from his body and he falls to the side. You hear a heartbroken scream erupt from further away, a woman's voice. The voice of anguish. You pay this no mind and continue to protect the wanted Cintran girl until Geralt arrives from out of Yennefer's portal hold. Wonderfully unharmed.

——

A few days past.

The night is wet and dark above a cloudy sky. You wait outside a tavern in the damp street for Geralt. He's inside getting any information he can on the fire mage from whoever wishes to share. You, appearing rather unruly to some locals, decided to stay outside and give them peace of mind. It is simply natural for people to fear vampires. Same goes for a half-blood.

Footsteps sound his return. No sooner have you glanced up has Geralt reached Roach's side. Golden eyes quick to find you leaned up against the brick wall. He recognizes your thoughtful expression.

"Ciri will be fine." He assures you sweetly. "She is with Yennefer.....I know my love, I know your thoughts are heavy. But you know this must be done. Ciri needs to learn and we.." He walks over to take your hands in his. "..are hunting Rience for her. There is purpose in our departure from her. This is how we save her."

"We cannot know this." You whisper, frustrated on the matter. You hated to leave them.

Geralt's eyes soften. "My dear Y/N."

"I know, I know." You squeeze his hands. "I'm trying."

"I know you are." He grins, parting from you to return to the saddle of Roach. Your mind wanders for answers. You wonder if there was a better way to keep Ciri safe without you, Geralt, and Yennefer splitting up. But it's pointless, it's done with and you must track Rience now. With his death and with the discovery of whomever is puppeteering him. That could unlock the mystery of why Ciri is so desperately hunted by so many people.

For the time being, you stay by Geralt's side.

"Y/N." Speaks Geralt gently. Your attention falls to him and a piece of rolled up parchment he's opened. "Dear friends, I miss you both already. Or should I say, we miss you? Your friend, Yennefer. P.S., if Ciri decides Aretuza is not to her liking, I have my eyes set on our next home. A dollhouse on a squid farm." He reads, smiling at the last part of the letter.

You snort and snatch it from him, looking at the words yourself. They are in Yennefer's hand writing. The paper of her scent, a smidge of Ciri and horse. You shake your head, grinning anyhow.

"A squid farm? Not if I can help it."

—————

Authors note:

Alright kids this is the last season I’ll be writing for dear reader and Geralt. It’s been a time and a good one at that, but Henry is Geralt and without him it’s just not the same :( I do hope you all enjoy! I’ve tried to pack each episode in every chapter the best I can so I hope it works. There’s more to come!

#the witcher #the witcher season 3 #the witcher series rewrite #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher reader insert #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #the witcher x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x y/n

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 2 years

Text

42/50 Touches

braiding the other’s hair

Geralt x reader

Word Count: 237

“You really let it go this time, didn’t you?” you muttered under your breath as you carefully pulled at single strand after single strand to rid the white locks of the literal matts that tangled them.

Before you, Geralt just hummed lowly.

“Couldn’t even stop to get the twigs out?”

“Didn’t exactly have time. Monsters wait for nothing; you know that.”

You did, all too well. Which was why you rarely saw the man at all. There was always precious little time between when he breezed into town and when he had to rush back out because of some attack or another.

“You should learn how to braid it. It’d keep it out of your way, at the very least. It wouldn’t be flapping about catching on--is this a bone? Don’t answer that; I don’t want to know.” Trying not to linger too hard on it, you flicked the sliver to the corner of the room to deal with later.

“And why would I do that? Not learning means I have a reason to have you like this.”

Your fingers stilled. That was . . . unexpectedly sweet of him. “You don’t have to let it get like this for me to play with your hair, Geralt.”

Again, he only hummed.

“Well,” you sighed, running your fingers through freely after finally ridding him of the last knot, “maybe you should just make the detour more often, then.”

“Perhaps I should.”

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #reader insert #the witcher imagine #witcher imagine

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lia-writes · 2 years

Text

a lifetime of anticipation

pairing: geralt x princess!reader

summary: geralt helps you with your hair

a/n: i started writing this many months ago so decided to tidy it up and here you go! i don’t know if i like this, but can add a chapter 2 (including smut) if people want more :)

; Stretched out on his bedroll, Geralt crossed his arms beneath his head and watches silently as you attempt to untangle your hair. Your legs are folded neatly under you and your face has been twisted into a concentrated grimace since you started.

He chuckles and when you stare at him harshly, he hesitates, averting his gaze. “Am I amusing you, Geralt?” The tone of your voice almost reminds him of Yennefer.

“Not at all.” He goes back to staring at the ceiling and trying to forget about the raven haired mage. It had been quite some time since he’d last seen her.

Under your breath, a hiss escapes as your fingers tear through one particular knot.

“Need a hand?” He asks and your face falls.

“Is it that obvious, I don’t usually do this myself?” you giggle softly, and he rolls onto his side to face you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“A little, princess.”

“No. Not a princess. Not anymore.”

He hums in agreement and tries to push the thought of what it would be like to run his fingers through your hair from his head. You glance at his form then, and he notices your cheeks flush, the tent suddenly feeling much smaller and a whole lot warmer.

Last night, you’d woken in a cold sweat and the smell of burning bodies clouding your senses. Come morning, Geralt had noticed your haunted expression and innocently mentioned sharing your tent, only but to keep you safe. When Jaskier himself had cut in with a quick, “I can share…” you’d been quick to accept Geralt’s offer.

He did make you feel safe. Even with the flickering flames on the sides of the tent, teasing your memories of what had happened only a few days ago. Plus, with Jaskier, his lute and his ego, you hardly believed there’d be room for you in the tent as well.

After this moment of silence, your hands return to combing through your tresses and Geralt returns to losing himself in thought and ignoring the warming pull, low in his belly. When you next look his way, his eyes are shut, and you spend a while wondering if he’s truly asleep. You clear your throat – nothing.

“Geralt?”

One eye cracks open, “hmm?”

“Oh, I was just checking… I thought you were asleep.”

There’s a pause where he thinks about telling you that Witcher’s don’t need sleep, and then he simply settles on asking, “do you need something?”

“A comb at the very least, so nothing realistic.” The glint in your eye is light and Geralt chuckles breathily.

“Well, I’ve a great many talents, princess, but producing something out of thin air is definitely, not one of them.”

“Many talents?” you question, tone playful and egging him on. He pushes himself up to a sitting position, you hadn’t noticed the way his undershirt clung to his form before. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest and his golden eyes follow the curve of your body, down the dip at your waist… You clear your throat again, “do I want to know what you’re thinking?” your gaze drops, and you nibble at your lower lip.

Geralt ignores the desire that begins building within him. Your cheeks blush a light cherry red, and he can feel that ache, warming his veins.

“That I think I could braid your hair better than you.” Your jaw almost drops – almost.

He smiles and your hands fall away from your hair. “Is that some kind of bet, Geralt?”

The way his name sounds gentle and soft in your voice rouses a slight warmth in his chest.

As he opens his mouth to respond, you cut in. “Fine. Prove it.” You turn around to face the side of the tent and find your shoulders tense as you hear Geralt eventually shuffling to sit behind you. Not after staring at your back for a while, pondering as to whether he should indulge your wish.

He begins to feel a little out of depth, staring at your hair in the candlelight and willing himself to remember where to start. From the memory of once watching Yennefer, he separates your hair into sections and begins to fumble the beginning of a braid down your back.

The rough pads of his fingers drag through your hair, and you fight leaning into it. Clarissa, your handmaiden, always had such a delicate touch, you would hardly notice her artfully styling your hair, until she’d show you in your small handheld mirror. For a moment you’re lost, the sound of her screams as you’d been dragged from the room filling the silence.

Geralt notices the way you suddenly stiffen, spine straightening and hands balling into fists in your lap. He hums a tune, likely picked up from his travels with Jaskier, or perhaps it was the one he’d overheard you singing in the garden of your home, where you’d been picking flowers in the late afternoon warmth.

“Have you ever been in love, Geralt?”

He’s surprised at the question and his fingers pause for a moment.

“Geralt?”

“I’m a Witcher, princess.” Before he can continue, you’re glancing over your shoulder, his hands move with your hair to avoid hurting you.

“And that means you’re incapable of finding love? Or are you just incapable of letting love in?”

He chuckles at the way your brows knit together and uses his gentle grip in your hair to straighten your head.

“I am not made to fall in love”

But when he blinks, he can see her. Violet eyes holding his stare captive, and her scent of lilac and gooseberries entangling his senses. The feeling of his hands in her hair and the sound of her in his ear.

The moment is frozen in time within his mind.

But the last few days, his thoughts have been flooded with you. The way you interacted with Roach, hand gentle and outstretched for her muzzle to sniff, the way you’d hummed along with Jaskier’s insistent singing, tuneful in his ear from where you sat behind him on Roach. The way your arms had fit around his waist. The first time he’d heard you giggle, and he swore it had bathed the entire continent in warmth.

The way Geralt’s stilled behind you in silence, tells you that love does somehow sit inside him. “I was to be wed to someone of my father’s choosing,” you sigh, “do you think that man would’ve loved me? or only loved what I can give him?”

One of Geralt’s hands leave your hair, to pick up the ribbon at your side and he ties it around the end of the braid, casting an eye over his handiwork. He’s glad he doesn’t have a mirror. It’s much simpler than the crown of braids that had sat upon your hair the first time he’d met you.

He thinks back to your question. “People will love you in any way that they can,”

“So not everyone’s love will feel the same,” you do turn to face Geralt then, who still sits on your side of the tent before you admit, “I’ve only ever felt my parent’s love.”

“You’ll know it when you feel it,” he moves away from you to return to his bedroll, and the warmth of him at your back settles deep within you instead. You swallow down your disappointment with a sigh.

He watches as you chew on your lower lip and believes you’re about to ask him how?

“You have good instincts, princess. Trust them.”

For now, you pushed the longing down, and settle on your side, facing away from him.

Everything within you had been screaming not to fall in love with Geralt. But you weren’t a princess anymore. And he made you feel safe. You found it hard to deny how much you loved that feeling.

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #jaskier #geralt fluff #the witcher reader insert #lia-writes #requests open

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hidden-misthios · 1 year

Text

Something in the Orange (part 3)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 427

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

A/n: I’m sorry for the long wait AGAIN but the last two months were wild. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

After a couple of failed attempts, impatient mumbles from Ciri and words of encouragement from Jaskier, Y/N did it. The portal was right there in front of them. She felt dizzy and could feel her energy draining incredibly fast but she was awfully proud of herself. Making portals was always risky but this one seemed completely stable. The only problem is going to be keeping it open until everyone crosses.

“Go!” Y/N yells but no one looks like they are ready to go first.

Lambert, who was standing closest to the portal, moves a step back.

“I’m not going to be able to do this whole day. Go.” Y/N looks at him, keeping her arms steady in front of her.

“Why me? So you can close it as soon as I cross over?” he crosses arms. Y/N rolls her eyes and turns around to her best friend.

“Jaskier. Please.” she looks at him with hope in her eyes. Jaskier hesitates for a bit, but slowly nods.

As soon as he moves a step forward, Lambert scoffs and slightly shakes his head.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything but steps forward again.

“Fine, I’ll go first. Save your precious troubadour ass from potential downfall.” he says and steps forward, standing in Jaskier’s way. Jaskier slightly frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything, as if he’s trying to read his mind.

“Go!” Y/N repeats before both men could say anything else.

Lambert glances at her then steps in front of the portal. The portal makes a loud sound but nothing happens as Lambert’s hand slowly touches the dimmed veil. He hesitates for a second before finally stepping inside.

Y/N is holding her breath.

There’s no response from the portal when Lambert fully disappears. Portal is still stable. Y/N feels her heart beating like she just ran a marathon.

He crossed safely. He’s fine.

“Next!” she says, her voice shaky.

Jaskier, who was already on his way when Lambert stopped him, moves forward again.

His fits are nervously clenched but he looks determined.

Once he’s gone, the rest of the group looks a bit more certain now. Portal is still stable, but Y/N feels the energy shifting slightly. Ciri moves closer as soon as Jaskier is through.

“We will have to speed things up a bit.” Y/N tells Vesemir when Ciri crosses over without a word.

She could feel the portal taking more and more energy from her. Y/N wasn’t sure was Ciri’s magic somehow to be blamed for that but she didn’t want to question it any longer.

Vesemir nods and moves forwards immediately. He knew what this meant. Portal was going to be unstable soon.

As Vesemir passes through, Y/N feels something warm on her lips. Her nose was already bleeding.

Shit.

She still had Coen and herself to go through. Portal could go unstable any minute now.

“Coen, wait!” she calls for him. The witcher halts and turns to her. “We need to go together!” she tells him, with hint of panic in her voice.

Coen is visibly confused but nods in silence. He joins her and slowly they start to approach the portal. Y/N’s arms are slightly shaking at this point and her vision is getting blurry.

Come on, you can do this.

As they are about to enter, portal suddenly shatters.

“Jump!” Y/N screams, flinging herself towards. The white light surrounds her and forces her to close her eyes.

The pressure inside her own mind is insane. It lasts only for couple of seconds and then suddenly Y/N feels the ground beneath her and the heaviness is gone. She dares to open her eyes, fully prepared for the worst.

But there she is, standing in front of small rescue group.

Relief hits her and she falls down on her knees. All of her energy was gone. It’s going to take days before she’s fully healed. The energy drained from her by the portal was equivalent to an entire month's worth of effort for an oneiromancer’s work.

Jaskier runs towards her, grabbing her around the shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” brushing the blood off her lips. Jaskier immediately offers her a handkerchief and Y/N takes it.

“Where is Coen?” Lambert asks. Y/N looks at him and then around herself. He wasn’t there. Her heart sinks.

“Where is he?!” Lambert asks, this time, much louder. Y/N manages to stand up with Jaskier’s help.

“He didn’t-”

Lambert is standing in front of her, lifting his arms and aiming for Y/N’s shoulders. Or neck. Y/N couldn’t be too sure.

Whatever his goal was, Lambert was stopped by Vesemir, who suddenly appeared by his right side.

“That’s enough, let her explain.” Vesemir gives him a warning look. “Y/N.” he looks at her now.

“Coen should be just fine. He didn’t jump on time so the portal closed in front of him.” Y/N says, finally leaning on her own feet without Jaskier’s help. Her friend still stood near, monitoring her every movement. “He is unharmed. Probably just upset he didn’t cross over.” she adds.

“If he’s not-”

“Oh, won’t you give me a break! I just held the portal open for 5 people. He is alive and well!” Y/N snaps at redheaded witcher. Lambert’s brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything this time. He turns his back on her in utter silence.

“Now…where are we?” Jaskier quietly asks, looking around. Everyone else does the same. Unfortunately, there isn't much to go on. The eerie woodland lay shrouded in an ethereal mist, its gnarled trees stretching their skeletal branches toward an ominous sky. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and moss. Jaskier, who was still standing next to Y/N, slightly trembles when a distant howl fills their ears.

“Maybe it’s just me, but this doesn’t look like Hengfors.” Ciri mumbles. Y/N feels the wave of shame overwhelm her. She really believed she was powerful enough to do this right.

It was still an early morning but the dense, dark clouds hindered the sunlight from piercing through. With each passing moment, the mist enveloping them grew denser and heavier.

“No, but we have to find our way there.” Vesemir adds calmly. Y/N slowly makes a step forward and approaches him.

“I’m sorry-” Y/N says. Vesemir’s yellow eyes stared at her with a piercing gaze. “Do not apologize, Y/N. You helped us.”

“We don’t even know where we are.” Y/N says feeling the slight dizziness overcome her again.

“We will get to the closest town. We should head west.” he says, this time to the whole group, which meant their discussion was over.

Vesemir took the lead and Ciri followed, tightly gripping the hilt of her silver sword.

Y/N nervously swallowed. Despite taking a deep breath, the dizziness persisted. She wouldn’t dare to stop the group for her own troubles. She had to walk.

Jaskier, who remained by her side, regarded her with a gaze filled with concern. Y/N felt even worse. She didn’t want anyone’s pity for her own failure.

“I’m fine. We should go.” she tells him.

“Can you walk?” he asks, obviously not convinced. Y/N nods and takes a few steps forward. The bard lets out a sigh, refraining from uttering a word, and began trailing behind Ciri.

Y/N's attention was drawn to Lambert's figure, catching a glimpse of him behind her with the corner of her eye. She didn’t like him walking behind her but had no energy or desire to fight him again.

The group walked in a tranquil silence, enveloped by the ambient sounds of nature that surrounded them. Even Jaskier remained quiet, occupied with his own thoughts and worries about their current location.

But no one blamed Y/N. Not even the red headed witcher at the end of the line.

Y/N fixated on her own steps, each one proving more difficult than the last. All she wanted now was to lay down and sleep for days.

***

After a few hours of (mostly) silent walking, the landscape around them began to change - woodland was replaced by eerie swamp. Y/N took a deep breath. The air became infused with a pungent aroma, carrying the unmistakable scent of decaying vegetation and stagnant water that defined the wetland.

Muscles in Y/N’s legs were screaming. Her whole body did. She had reached the point where she truly didn't know how much longer she could continue walking. When she finally raised her gaze from the ground, which had captivated her attention for the past half hour, she came to the realization that she had fallen behind. Jaskier now walked at least 10 meters ahead of her, leaving her with the undeniable awareness that her pace had slowed down.

“We have to pick up the pace. We don't want to be trapped in a swamp when it gets dark.” Vesemir shouted from upfront. Lambert, who was still walking behind Y/N quietly, didn’t say anything, but Y/N heard his steps getting closer to her now. When he finally bypassed her, Y/N felt helpless. Her own feet were betraying her. She struggled to focus on each step, but her vision was blurring with every moment.

She abruptly stopped. At last, her body yielded to the unforgiving grasp of exhaustion, and her knees crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud. Y/N’s eyes already closed when she felt someone’s hands catch her around her waist.

As her consciousness slipped away, she was embraced by the sudden darkness.

***

She slowly regained consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal the unfamiliar surroundings. Groggy and disoriented, Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her body gradually come back to life.

“Y/N!” she heard a familiar voice next to her. She moves her head to the side. Jaskier lowered himself into a crouch beside her, immediately helping her to sit up. Y/N looks around.

By the sound surrounding them, she was sure they were still in the wetlands. A disappointed sigh escaped her lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jaskier asks her, monitoring her face as if she was about to faint again.

“I didn’t want us to stop walking.” she mutters, trying to get up on her unsteady feet. It was pitch darkness around them, the only light sources were small lanterns placed around their improvised campsite.

“Sit down! We won't be going anywhere until morning.” he scolds her.

“Jaskier, I’m fine. We can go.”

“That’s what you said the last time and then fainted into that revolting mud.” he retorted with a tinge of frustration in his voice.

Suddenly Y/N remembers the last moment before the world blackened in front of her eyes. She instinctively touches her waist, as if expecting to still feel the lingering touch of hands upon it.

“But you got me. I didn’t fell.” she says, unsure in her own words. Was it Jaskier? Or was she imagining the whole thing?

“I-I didn’t.” Jaskier says reluctantly, his eyes suddenly looking away from her. Y/N frowns.

“Jaskier…”

“Fine! It was him!” he finally confessed, lowering his voice. Then his gaze shifted to Y/N’s left side. She slowly turns her head.

Lambert.

He rested against a fallen ash tree; arms crossed over his chest with his head slightly bowed down. He was asleep. Or at least looked like he was. Y/N wasn’t even sure if witchers ever properly slept.

“Him?” Y/N whispers but there was panic in her voice.

“Yes, him.” Jaskier says impatiently, still looking at the redheaded witcher. “He carried you for an hour without a word. When I insisted that I should be the one to carry you, he told me to get lost. Can you imagine!” he says, not even bothering to hide his reluctance.

Just as Y/N was about to voice her complaint, the witcher's sudden movement startle them both, causing them to jerk back in surprise.

“In fact, I believe my exact words were ‘sod off’.” Lambert mutters to Jaskier, but his gaze is pierced on Y/N. Y/N’s mouth open but she’s speechless.

Why on earth would he carry me?

Jaskier stood up. With an indignant huff, he straightened his posture. "Well then, aren't you a delightful specimen of manners." he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lambert glances at him with a sardonic smirk, clearly amused. “Happy to be of service.”

“Alright, now that’s settled...” Y/N interveners, still feeling uncomfortable. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere near Creyden or Luton. Braa river is this way.” Lambert turns the point of his dagger to the north.” We won’t be sure until the morning.”

Y/N took a moment to realize where they are. “So…I didn’t mess up.”

“What do you mean ‘mess up?” Jaskier asks with confusion. Y/N finally manages to get up on her own feet. She located her leather bag just a few steps away from her. Thankfully, she carried a map with her!

“Hengfors,” she exclaims optimistically as she crouched down, “is just right behind us.” Y/N lowers the map on the somewhat of a flat stone. With a quick motion, she straightens the crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier and Lambert appear beside her, each holding a lantern to illuminate the map.

“If your assumptions are right, we should be right here.” she points to a blank part of the paper, surrounded by four cities – Blaviken, Luton, Jamurlak and Hengfors.

“Fuck.” Lambert quietly says, turning around. Y/N’s optimism suddenly vanishes.

“Isn’t that good? We know where we are.” she asks, standing up again. Lambert doesn’t look at her, but somewhere in the black void that was surrounding them.

“These roads are feeding grounds for kikimoras.” he mutters, as the flickering glow of the lantern bounced off the contours of his stern face.

“Of course they are.” Jaskier anxiously uttered his words, his throat tight with tension.

Y/N felt the chills down her spine. She never encountered any monsters. She had no idea how to fight. She didn’t need to do that in Novigrad anyway.

“I’m sure you have plenty of experience in fighting monsters with Geralt, bard.” Lambert mocks him, lowering the lantern on the ground.

“Actually I’m- “

“Don’t answer that.” Y/N interrupts him. “Where are Ciri and Vesemir?” she decides to change the subject.

“They are taking turns guarding the camp.” Lambert answers and settles down on the very same tree where Y/N first spotted him when she woke up. “My shift just ended so excuse me for a next hour or two.”

Y/N and Jaskier return to the spot where Y/N woke up and they sit down on her bedroll.

“You should sleep too, you know.” Y/N tells her friend. Jaskier shakes his head immediately.

“Not a chance. I’ll watch over you.”

“I just woke up. You should be the one sleeping.” she insists.

“I’m not-”

“You don’t own me anything, Jaskier.” she gently nudges his arm, smiling at her friend.

“I do. And least I can do is let you sleep.”

“You won’t be of any use to me tomorrow if you’re going to be tired.” Y/N continues. Jaskier lets out a sigh. Heavy-lidded and burdened with the weight of exhaustion, his eyes were veiled by a haze of fatigue.

“Fine. But only for a few minutes.” he says, leaning against the log behind him. “Promise you’ll wake me up.”

***

Y/N, of course, did not wake up the bard. She sat there, surrounded by the darkness of the eerie swamp and just watched. Her surroundings were mostly quiet – occasional hoots or croaking from shallow waters. The night seemed peaceful which calmed her nerves.

As the early light of dawn emerged on the horizon, Vesemir and Ciri made their way back to their camp. Despite their appearance of alertness, Y/N knew that the lack of rest was taking its toll on them.

“Someone’s finally awake.” Ciri says with a mocking tone, but the smile on her face was friendly.

“I’m sorry-”

"Pay no attention to her, Y/N," Vesemir softly adds, tossing a flask full of water towards the girl. Ciri catches it swiftly, gulping down half of it in an instant. Older witcher walks over to Y/N and gazes at the slumbering bard. Jaskier's mouth is slightly ajar, emitting gentle snores as he rests peacefully.

“Not quite a guardian, that one.”

“I told him to sleep.” Y/N explains and finally gets up on her feet. She felt safer now when they were all together again. Ciri joined Lambert, gently tapping him on the shoulders. Witcher instantly opened his eyes and looked at the group surrounding him.

It was time to move.

Few hours and lots of kilometres later, they finally saw signs of civilization. The sun had risen high in the sky, yet it offered little warmth. Vesemir and Ciri were leading the group, but even their firm steps started to slow down after a while. Jaskier was awfully quiet again, but Y/N knew better than to ask questions.

And behind her, there was Lambert again.

From time to time, Y/N swore she could feel his gaze but when she subtly turned around to check, he wasn’t looking. It was annoying and distracting, she realized, but there was nothing to say or do without starting another fight with stubborn man.

It was late afternoon when they finally reached the city of Luton. If such a place could even be called city, Y/N thought. At the core of the city lay a bustling and malodorous port, where the constant cries of seagulls filled the air, circling overhead as they mingled with the scent of the sea.

Vesemir suddenly stops and turns around to face the group.

“Alright. This is where we split up. Ciri-” he turns to the girl “Find us a supply shop. Herbs, oils, whatever you can think of.”

Ciri nods and leaves, not waiting for other instructions. Y/N is nervously looking around, not really sure if splitting up is good idea.

“Jaskier.” Vesemir turns to face the bard. Jaskier clears his throat and steps forward as he was waiting for his instructions. “Find us a quiet inn for tonight. Not too crowded nor too empty. Somewhere we won’t draw attention. Find me here in an hour.”

“Got it.” Jaskier nods quickly, looks around a few times and then leaves in the same direction where Ciri left just few seconds ago. Y/N knew it was her turn now.

Vesemir turns to her, with a soft look in his eyes. “Y/N. You’re going to snoop around. Look for the notice boards. Eavesdrop for the stories about our whereabouts. If someone is looking for us, we have less time than we thought.” he says, occasionally glancing around. Y/N suddenly straightens her back, as she feels chills going down her spine.

“Where should I meet you?” she asks quietly.

“We will find you after everything is prepared.” Vesemir says. Y/N quietly nods and decides to follow Ciri’s and Jaskier’s direction.

“Oh, and Y/N.” Vesemir adds before she has the chance to make another step forward. “Take Lambert with you.”

Both Y/N and Lambert groan.

“I can do this on my own, Vesemir.” Y/N says. Vesemir’s eyes suddenly darken.

“Can you? Could you defeat a drunkard who wants to fight you? Would you find a thief who steals your bag or money? “He asks her, his voice suddenly colder. Y/N suddenly feels ashamed and doesn’t know what to answer. She was a sorceress. If things got out of hand she could always rely on her magic. But she knew that would be the end of her. This wasn’t Novigrad – and magic wasn’t welcomed here.

“And you” suddenly he turns to Lambert. “Stay out of trouble. Keep an eye on Y/N. And don’t draw attention to yourselves.”

Lambert looks at Y/N and then back to Vesemir. “Got it.” he mutters and joins Y/N.

“What about-” Lambert was about to ask, but when he turned around again to face Vesemir, he was already out of sight. “Fast for an old man.” he mutters and faces Y/N. He looks at her for couple of seconds and sighs.

“What?” she asks, even more nervous now when he was completely focused on her.

“You’re not good at this, you know.” Lambert says and approaches her. Y/N freezes when his hands move towards her shoulders. He grabs the edges of her coat and pulls the hood over her head. Y/N frowns a little.

“Of course I’m not! I generally don’t waste my days hiding around foul-smelling cities or looking for kidnapped witchers.” she finally says, crossing arms on her chests.

“Well today is your lucky day, your highness.” he grins and pulls hood over his own head as well.

“Let’s go.”

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cowboygenesis · 7 months

Text

preview: rumors | geralt x reader

“Yes, my lady?” he whispered lowly, a pair of chapped lips grazing at your sensitive shoulder and eliciting a soft moan from the depths of your parched throat. It came suddenly, raspily, and lingered in the tantric air between you and the witcher. You prayed nobody looked .

“I need it,” you breathed out rapidly, his lips placing slow, sloppy kisses along your clavicle. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, eyebrows low as you secured your shaking arms around his muscular neck.

“What do you need?” he retorted quietly, between kisses, biting softly at the skin of your neck. You shivered under his touch.

“Gods— you. I need you, Geralt,” you rasped out, eyes turning glassy with a sudden onset of debilitating frustration brewing in your belly.

here's a little preview of a nearly-finished smutty oneshot!! i hope to finish it by the end of this week. i promise more fandoms are coming soon, i've just been obsessed with fantasy recently >> do you guys like the 2nd person pov better than 3rd?

#fanfiction #reader insert #smut #the witcher #writers on tumblr #x reader #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #witcher #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x reader smut #the witcher netflix

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kittenofdoomage · 2 years

Text

Summary: Y/N has need of an escort, and Geralt is the only person she trusts to protect her but will their history pose a problem?

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female!reader, reader x male!other (mentioned)

Word Count: 5050

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of prostitution/sex work, familial/marital death, loss of virginity (discussed), smut

Ao3 Link

It was dark outside, a pitch black sky hanging over crisp white trees and grass, though she didn’t feel the cold sitting by the roaring fire in the study, her nearly-finished book in her lap as she sipped a warm cup of tea. Her younger brothers, the future masters of the house, had gone to bed hours before, and Y/N liked to have the evening to herself, absorbed in some adventure far away from her rather boring existence.

The first alert that someone had entered the grounds of the house came from Martha, who wrung her hands together when she burst into the room, concern on her face. “A rider is here, ma’am,” she whispered, almost as if she were afraid to break the silence.

Y/N sat up, putting her tea down on the table next to her. “A rider?”

“I believe it is the Witcher,” Martha replied, her expression showing her displeasure.

Not unsurprisingly, most people didn’t like Witchers. They were viewed as cold, emotionless brutes, only good for slaying monsters. Y/N’s own experience differed - if it was the Witcher she suspected, she had been awaiting his arrival for days, and though Geralt was every bit of a brute as was expected of him, he was far from emotionless.

“I should greet our guest,” Y/N murmured, getting to her feet. The older woman looked at her with dismay, and she smiled back, placing one hand on Martha’s forearm. “Do not fret, Martha, he’s odd, but he’s no danger. Besides, who better to trust with my safety than the man my father trusted?”

She didn’t look convinced, but her younger mistress was already heading out of the door, grabbing her shawl as she passed it. Opening the front door brought a gust of a chill into the hall, and as Geralt’s large stallion drew closer, Y/N stepped out into the cold, tugging her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The horse huffed loudly as he came to a stop, and the rider fixed his golden eyes on her.

“My lady,” Geralt grunted, tipping his head slightly before dismounting, his ragged cloak dragging on the floor as he landed.

“Geralt,” she replied with a smile, “you received my letter.” He nodded, gathering Roach’s reins in one hand as the horse snorted softly. His attitude wasn’t the warmest, though it never had been if she was honest, but she couldn’t help feeling a little dejected at it. Forcing her smile to remain in place, she gestured to the stables. “Nothing’s changed,” she said softly. “If you would like to stable Roach, there’s food and ale in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, leading the horse off towards the stables, barely giving her another glance.

“Would you like me to warm some food for him, Miss Y/N?”

Martha’s soft question distracted her from her fixed gaze on the Witcher’s retreating form, and she looked at the older woman, shaking her head. “No, Martha, it’s fine. I can manage. You should make sure the boys are in bed. Thomas is probably still reading.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She bowed her head, scurrying off ahead of her mistress. Y/N followed slowly, pulling the large oak door shut behind her, confident that Geralt would remember his way to the back of the property where the kitchen was. As she moved through the house, she extinguished the lights, leaving only the ones in the corridor alit before making her way into the kitchen.

The house was huge, the kitchen equally so, but it was always warm in there, the fire burning away in the hearth at all hours. Musket, the small terrier that belonged to the cook, was in his bed, and he looked up with a wag of his tail as she passed, prompting her to stoop and pet him. There was a good deal of food leftover in the pantry from the Sunday meal, so Y/N busied herself preparing some of it for Geralt, all the while pondering what she would even say to him. Their last meeting had been brief, at the graveside of her father, and to say he had been terse with her would be an understatement. He hadn’t visited much since she’d married Darius, even though his untimely death had ended their union at only six months, weeks before her father succumbed to old age.

Before that, things had been different between them. Her father had never pressured her to marry - his legacy was ensured in his two sons - so she had been mostly free to do as she pleased, though she rarely found trouble in books. The only romance that interested her were the epic courtships in her favorite novels, that is, until she had met the Witcher her father had employed to deal with some unpleasant creatures invading their land. He was mysterious, handsome, like all the heroes in her books, and she was still young, just shy of twenty, and clueless, by her own admission. She had practically thrown herself at him, and even then, it had taken some persuasion to get what she wanted.

If her father had ever discovered the dalliance between them, she suspected he would not have been happy, even though it had only happened a few times, and all at her initiation. At any rate, she knew now that the feelings she held for the strange giant of a man were affection, not love, but it still hurt when he began to treat her with the same indifference he showed everyone else.

The door leading outside creaked loudly as Geralt pushed it open, and his boots left icy trails when he stepped inside. Y/N glanced up, trying not to let her gaze linger too long, though she noticed the holes in his cloak, and the poorly-sewn patches on his clothing. His ratty attire wasn’t unusual for someone who spent most of their time traveling the countryside, but it made the caregiver in her prickle, and by the time he sat down at the long table, she was already mentally gathering new garments for him to wear.

“Thank you,” he mumbled when she passed him a tankard of mead.

“It looks like you had a long journey,” she commented, turning away again to pick up the plate of food she had prepared. “Are the roads very icy?”

“Not icy enough to make them impassable,” he replied softly. “The road to the city is clear.”

“That’s good.”

“May I ask what the purpose of the visit is?”

She smiled, placing his plate in front of him before taking the seat opposite. “James is nearly of age. He’s to complete an apprenticeship with an old friend of my father’s in the city and there are some finer details that need to be discussed.”

“Is James going with us?” he asked.

“No,” she hummed. “It will just be me. I have some other things to take care of while I’m there but it should not take longer than a few hours. I’ve already secured comfortable lodgings for us for the night.”

He smirked, picking up a chicken leg from his plate. “You make it sound like you knew when I’d be here.”

“You’ve always been very punctual.”

“And your family has always been generous with their coin,” he pointed out.

Chuckling under her breath, she leaned her elbows on the table, watching him eat for a few seconds. He seemed hungry, ravenous even as he tore into the flesh of the bird, barely chewing a mouthful before he was onto the next. “Where were you?” she asked carefully.

“The mountains,” he replied. “I was going back to Kaer Morhen for the winter.”

“I hope I have not delayed you.”

He dropped the stripped bone, sucking his fingers clean as he shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I’ve prepared a room for you, the same one you usually use. And I assume you’re satisfied with the same rate of pay? All expenses included.”

Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he laughed quietly. “You sound just like your father.”

She relaxed a little. “I guess it’s becoming a habit.”

Geralt nodded, breaking eye contact to pick at his food again. Y/N hesitated for a moment, then got to her feet, moving towards the sink to make herself a glass of water. He continued to eat, and she ignored him, sipping her drink with her attention out of the window into the darkness of the fields beyond.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” she replied as she turned back to him. “I will find you some suitable attire. You can’t escort me into the city in rags.” Another light laugh from him, derision despite the fact she knew he wouldn’t turn fresh clothing down. Finishing up her water, she placed the empty glass on the counter. “It’s late, and I have things to attend to before we leave tomorrow,” she sighed. “You can find your way to your bed, I trust?”

Only a nod was her answer, and she grimaced, mouth a thin line as she watched him for a moment more. When he showed no sign of being interested in further competition, she tried to calm the desperate younger woman in her that was clamoring for his attention.

“Goodnight, Geralt. Try not to frighten Martha.”

He grunted something that sounded like “goodnight” but she was already on her way out of the door, keeping her focus on her feet as she headed up to her room. She didn’t close the bedroom door, leaving it ajar, listening as Martha went to bed, and her brothers talking next door. When she climbed into bed and extinguished the lamp, she found herself wide awake, hearing when Geralt ascended the stairs thirty minutes later, his footsteps stopping just outside her room.

She held her breath. He lingered, and she wondered if he thought she did not want him, when her body and heart cried out to have him that close. If she sat up and called to him, would he answer? Was the coldness he’d shown her simply a mask, knowing that her association with him could bring her ill-repute?

He moved on, and the door to the guest room closed a few moments later. Y/N exhaled, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, curling tighter into her blankets as she scolded herself for being so ridiculous.

It took forever to fall asleep.

The weather was warmer once the sun came up the next morning and by the time they were on their way, the frost was gone, leaving everything bathed in the wintery sunshine. It was a few hours’ ride to the city at a leisurely pace, along a mostly deserted road, one that brought the risk of robbers or worse, but Y/N felt safe enough with Geralt behind her. He wasn’t particularly chatty on the few occasions she attempted conversation, but after an hour, the silence was beginning to grate on her nerves.

Slowing until she was riding level with him, she turned to him, tilting her head slightly. “Why have you been so curt with me as of late, Geralt?”

He blinked, turning his head slowly until his blazing golden eyes were on her, sending a shiver down her spine. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he grumbled low in his throat.

She scoffed lightly. “Don’t insult me,” she spat. “I thought we were friends at the very least.”

“Are we not?”

The look she shot him could have withered plants. “You tell me.”

Seconds trickled by with her challenging glare, but Geralt only seemed amused. He shifted in the saddle, clearing his throat lightly. “If you’re alluding to the lack of sex, my lady,” he purred, “I would gladly entertain you. I had assumed after your marriage that you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m not married anymore,” she replied sullenly.

“And it wouldn’t be proper to seduce a grieving widow,” he drawled.

She couldn’t help the chuckle that left her lips. “I would never have described you as proper, Geralt.” Her horse huffed loudly, pulling at the bit to move faster in the cold, so she loosened the reins, smiling to herself as her companion matched her pace. “And I was grieving. For a while. Darius was a wonderful companion but…” Trailing off, she turned her head to fix a daring smile on the witcher beside her. “There were always comparisons.”

“Oh?”

He seemed insufferably amused. Y/N scowled and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “He didn’t snore as loud as you do,” she snapped.

The comment didn’t appear to bother him, judging by the peal of laughter that chased after her. She shook her head with a noise of disgust, then urged her horse on a little faster.

It was growing colder as the skies began to darken hours later, and by the time they reached the gates of the city, she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers. Thankfully, their lodgings were close by, and they were inside by true nightfall, both horses stabled and fed for the evening. Y/N could think of nothing but food, ushering Geralt along as her stomach rumbled. The tavern they had lodgings above was a modest but more affluent establishment, not as rowdy as she supposed the witcher’s usual haunts were, and his presence inspired a hushed silence when they entered.

He didn’t comment on it, or even acknowledge it with any reaction, following her dutifully to a table. It took a few moments for the patrons to recognize that he wasn’t about to cause trouble, though the furtive glances in his direction continued as they ordered and waited for their food. Even the woman serving them eyed him warily, doing her best to only speak to Y/N.

“Everyone would think you’re a stone cold murderer,” Y/N muttered as the woman hurried away with their order. “But I suppose they like to believe the stories.”

“Some of them are true,” Geralt confessed, tone low and matter-of-fact, but when she looked at him, he was almost smiling.

The unwelcoming atmosphere faded quickly as the people around them decided the witcher in their midst wasn’t a threat, conversation beginning again. Their meals arrived quickly, and Y/N was eager to tuck in, barely sparing him a second of attention as she focused on quelling her ravenous appetite.

“I assume none of your business in town requires our attention tonight?” he asked, after she’d slowed in her eating, half the meal devoured already.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Our attention?” she repeated. “I didn’t assume you would accompany me everywhere.”

“I would feel more comfortable if I did,” he said quietly, lifting his tankard to his lips. “You don’t spend as much time in these places, Y/N. While you’re a capable woman, you’re also an easy mark.”

She chuckled, lowering her fork. “I want to be insulted by that, but as it’s you… I suppose it would be wise to keep you by my side. So long as you want to be.”

Geralt’s mouth set into a thin line. “Don’t try to test me, princess,” he growled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

He grunted, and she giggled to herself, continuing her meal. Patrons filtered in and out around them, and their presence went mostly unnoticed, save for those curious about the witcher, not that they were stupid enough to approach. Y/N paid when they were done, and Geralt hung back as she got the key to their room.

“Only one room?” the woman at the counter clarified, her gaze slipping past Y/N to the hulking white-haired man behind her.

“Yes,” Y/N confirmed, clutching the key tightly when the woman handed it over somewhat reluctantly. When she turned back to Geralt, he was watching her curiously, and she shrugged at his expression. “You did say it would be wiser for you to be with me at all times.” She smirked, slipping past him, and he followed with both her bag and his slung over his shoulder.

The tavern was fairly large upstairs, with more than one room on each floor. Most of them were occupied, and their room was on the highest floor, the stone walls thick enough to drown out any noise from other guests. Geralt almost had to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe, and his boots thudded heavily on the floorboards.

“Well this is a little smaller than I was expecting,” Y/N tutted, turning to face him as he closed the door. “But at least it’s quiet.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Bet you have.”

The lamps were already lit, and though there was no fire, the room had only a single window with a thick frame, and the warmth of the floors below left it a comfortable temperature. Y/N tested the bed, lowering herself onto it and finding it pleasantly soft. Geralt watched her, gaze darkening when she smiled at him and patted the bed.

“Might get cold,” she teased.

He huffed, dropping her bag at her feet. “You’re playing games.”

“Would you prefer me to be more forward?” she asked, getting to her feet and closing the gap between them. “I want you.”

“Y/N -”

She scowled. “Don’t use that tone on me. I’m not a child. I wasn’t a child when I seduced you the first time!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Or what?”

He glared at her, grabbing her by the arms; her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide at the sudden roughness. For a moment, she thought he was going to speak, so she waited, only to grow impatient at his lack of reply.

“Let me go,” she seethed, struggling in his hold. “Don’t manhandle me unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” he snapped back. “You’re infuriating.”

“Have you met you?”

With a frustrated snarl, he released her, forcing her backwards until her legs hit the bed and she dropped onto her bottom. Geralt stared down at her, chest heaving, golden eyes sparkling with what she hoped was arousal, but she couldn’t tell. “I don’t want to take advantage of a grieving widow,” he said, voice thick as he tried to control himself. “The same as I didn’t want to take advantage of a naive maiden the first time.”

She smiled, leaning on her hands. “You never took advantage of me. You only gave me what I needed.” Thrusting her chest out, she looked up at him, curling her fingers into the blankets underneath her. “I did not die with my husband, I still feel, I’m still… I still have needs. And I trust you.” She paused as she chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised how few men I encounter, and the ones I do are… unpleasant.”

“Your trust may be misplaced,” he grunted, though he didn’t move, looking down at her.

“I don’t think it is,” she whispered, reaching for him as she rose again. “I trust you with my life, Geralt.” His heavy gaze was hungry now, raking over her in a way that made her stomach flutter, but she knew she didn’t have him convinced yet. “And now… there’s no one to comment if there happened to be bruises.”

The sound he made sent a shiver down her spine and she quickly found herself back in his hold, pressed hard against him. “There could be a lot of bruises,” he warned, sliding one hand down to grab her rear, squeezing his fingers into her flesh. “Are you sure?”

“Do you need written permission?” she drawled.

He groaned, pulling her into a forceful kiss that only left her wanting more. “I think you need something to occupy that smart mouth.”

She didn’t resist when he pushed her down onto her knees, letting her skirts cushion them against the hard floor. His fingers had barely grazed the buckle of his belt before she was batting them away, eagerly unfastening the leather to tug his pants down. He groaned as she pulled his already hard cock free, stroking him from root to tip.

Her exploration didn’t end there. Keeping her eyes on his, she stuck her tongue out, lapping at the swollen bulbous tip to taste the bead of essence caught there, prompting him to moan and press one hand to the side of her head. The pins holding her hair in place clattered to the floor as he slid his fingers through it, and she finally broke eye contact, closing them to enjoy the weight of him on her tongue. The sounds rumbling out of him made her bolder, and she took him deeper, bracing her hand against his meaty thigh. Her other hand rested around the base of his cock, covering what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, though she teased him every so often with a sudden deeper stroke that made him grunt in surprise.

His fingers clenched on the side of her head, and the possessive touch prompted her to moan and pull back, leaving his skin slick with her saliva. She looked up at his face, features shadowed by the lamplight filling the room; he dragged his thumb down to her mouth, stroking the pad across her wet bottom lip.

“I’ve had a lot of cold, lonely nights, Geralt,” she whispered, keeping a firm grip on his cock.

“You won’t be cold or lonely tonight,” he promised, reaching to pull her to her feet again. Her hand and his manhood was crushed between them as he kissed her, though that didn’t stop her still trying to stimulate him. His patience was obviously thin as he tugged at her clothing, practically tearing at the laces of her dress to get to her, and ignoring his own state of dress when he pushed her, naked, onto the bed.

She giggled as he pried her legs apart, manhandling her hard enough to leave an ache wherever his fingers graced her skin. He nipped at her inner thigh, startling her into a whine, before his lips brushed her bare pussy, and her whine pitched then went silent.

“Nothing to say now?” he teased, letting his warm breath fan over her swollen sex. Her head rocked from side to side as he took his time, tormenting her with a gentle stroke of his pointed tongue against her clit, light enough to arouse but not enough for any gratification. She whined louder, tilting her hips in an attempt to find more friction. “No?” he challenged again. “But you’ve been so chatty all day.”

All she could muster was a tiny mewl, somewhere between a “please” and his name. Geralt only laughed, nuzzling into her sex, flicking his tongue against her throbbing clit again.

“You can do better than that,” he chided.

“Gah,” she managed, forcing herself to look at him. “Please, Geralt.”

He huffed, smirking at her. “Better.”

Any scathing remark she had faded into a gasp as he pressed his mouth into her, using his tongue to spread her plump lips. The pointed tip slid up from her hole to her clit, circling the swelling bundle of nerves, and the sudden intense pressure made her jerk her knees up, though he prevented her from clamping her trembling thighs. Each gasp of a breath became a whimper as he feasted on her, and she shuddered from head to toe, digging her fingers into the blankets underneath her.

He still took his time, giving her just enough stimulation to have her teetering on the edge of bliss, fingers teasing at her slick hole as his tongue worked over her clit. She squirmed needily, trapped under his weight, desperate to cum, whining his name over and over until she couldn’t take any more.

“Wanna cum, Geralt, please.”

The fingers teasing her hole went still, and he lifted his head to look up her body, licking his lips clean of her taste. “Then cum,” he replied, sinking two fingers knuckle deep inside her, watching her expression dissolve into pleasure. She cried out, grinding down onto his hand, arching when he returned his mouth to her clit and sucked hard.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her scream turned soundless as she tensed at the sensations he created. Every part of her body seemed to vibrate towards him, and the low growl he emitted against her cunt made her almost convulse with the throb of her climax. The tension flowed out of her all at once, leaving her trembling and panting hard.

Geralt pulled away, and for a second, she felt bereft, though the warm buzz of her orgasm kept her still. She could hear him undressing, hear the heavy thud of his boots as he removed them, and then the bed dipped under his weight again, and when she opened her eyes again, he was looming over her gloriously hard and naked. She reached for him, curling her fingers into his white hair to pull him in for a kiss, and he acquiesed without pause, fucking his tongue into her mouth as he slipped between her thighs. He didn’t wait, penetrating her easily, settling with her legs around his waist and cock buried to the hilt inside her.

A rattling moan left her as the kiss broke, and she looked up at him, almost sighing in satisfaction. “Feels so good,” she mumbled, tensing just to feel his cock twitch. “Wanted this for so long…”

He hummed, kissing a path along her jaw until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. His hips remained still, her body his perfect little cocksleeve as he pinned her down. “I want you on your knees,” he growled, grabbing her ass as he ground deep into her. “You want me to fuck you, princess, then I’ll fuck you how I please.”

He withdrew, slapping one hand against her thigh before wrapping it around his cock, stroking himself. She was sluggish to move, still shaking from the two orgasms he’d dragged out of her, and as she turned onto her front, Geralt grew impatient, wasting no more time in pulling her onto her knees. Lifting herself on trembling arms, she looked back at him for a brief second when he pressed in behind her, whimpering as he thumbed the blunt tip of his cock through her soaked folds.

In the next second, he was inside her again, the delicious stretch of his girth making her coo loudly, and he laughed, sliding one hand underneath her to grope at her tits. “Is this what you wanted?” he murmured, rocking into her slow but hard, letting her feel how deep he was at that angle. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” she hissed, tossing her head back as her body automatically moved to meet his, desperate for him to move faster.

He straightened, placing both his hands on her hips before spreading his knees, forcing her to open to him. The position put a strain on her thighs but not enough that it distracted her from his sudden increase in pace. Every thrust was deliberate, allowing her to feel every single inch of the thick cock spearing her open, and she couldn’t help crying out, drowning out Geralt’s throaty grunts.

She came with a pitchy whine, surrendering to the pleasure. He didn’t stop, chasing his own end now, and she could feel the bruises on her skin where he touched her, each second passing with a little more pressure. Sweat beaded on her skin, and she gasped for breath, clawing at the blankets when he finally started to falter, his thrusts becoming stuttered as he reached his peak. One last hard stroke and he was buried deep and cumming, spurting warmth into her belly as she moaned decadently.

Her arms and legs ran out of strength, and she slumped forward, turning her head so she didn’t suffocate herself. The action forced Geralt to withdraw, leaving a sticky mess behind, and the bed shifted as he sat back on his haunches. “Are you satisfied now, my lady?” he teased, smirking at her as she nodded weakly and groaned into the pillow.

It wasn’t hard to find sleep once she was wrapped in his strong arms underneath the blankets, and when the tavern owner’s wife knocked on the door to rouse them the next morning, she struggled to pull herself from his warmth.

As he had promised, Geralt accompanied her everywhere, and she had to admit that his presence had allowed things to flow much more smoothly than she expected. Everything was arranged and done in time for lunch, so they took it at a leisurely pace, enjoying the few comforts the city offered that the countryside did not.

The sky was black by the time they turned onto the road to her home, though the clouds were already gathering with the threat of more snow. Geralt slowed, dismounting before Roach had stopped to open the gate, allowing Y/N to pass through. He didn’t bother to get back on the horse, following her down the dirt track to the front of the property, where Martha was waiting with the door open.

“Saw you coming, my lady,” she called as Y/N’s horse slowed to a stop.

Y/N dropped down from the saddle gracefully, clinging to the reins as Geralt approached with Roach trailing behind him. “I’ll be in in a moment, Martha,” she said, and the older lady nodded, scurrying inside and closing the door. Satisfied they were alone, Y/N met Geralt’s gaze with a hesitant smile. “Are we saying goodbye, Geralt?”

He looked up, assessing the sky, jaw clenching as his eyes dropped back to her. “It’s a long ride back to Kaer Morhen,” he murmured.

“You wouldn’t want to tire Roach out too much,” she agreed. “Best you stay here for the night. Set off fresh in the morning, after a good night’s sleep.”

One eyebrow arched at her, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t imagine what you have in mind will be anywhere near a good night’s sleep.”

Tugging on the reins, Y/N smirked at him as she led her horse towards the stables. “Are you going to turn it down?”

Geralt chuckled, shaking his head before following her. “Not at all.”

Thanks for reading, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, or getting in touch via ask to let me know if you enjoyed this story!

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #female!reader

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justice-maul · 2 years

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Character/Scenarios Kink List

Featuring: Dom and/or Top Reader w/ Random Fandoms

Summary: A new little fun game for my followers and new comers to play with me, you can request anything from this list with the rules down below but aren’t obligated to as I will still write them regardless

Author Note: there will be some overused characters and actors because this list is of my personal favorites to write about, I change this list quite a bit according to my taste so keep that in mind

Rules for requesting are down below and the links/list are under the keep reading

Kink/character list:

Jealous Sex ft.

Thigh Riding ft. Bucky (The Winter Soldier)

Premature Ejaculation ft. Clark Kent (Superman)

Facefucking ft.

Accidental Stimulation ft. Steve Rogers

Aphrodisiac/Sex Pollen ft. Jason Todd (Redhood DC)

Discreet sex ft. Bruce Wayne

Size Difference ft.

Toys ft.

Begging ft.

Kitchen Sex ft. Tony Stark x Avengers amab!Reader

Shower Sex ft. Pietro Maximoff

Caught Masturabting ft. Bucky (The Winter Soldier)

Overstimulation ft. Geralt (The Witcher Netflix)

Praise Kink ft.

Uniform Sex ft.

Scent/Smell Kink ft.

Boss/Power Play ft. Natasha Romanoff

Hate sex ft.

Cockwarming ft.

Face Sitting ft. Marc Spector

Spit kink ft.

Breeding ft. Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Tit Job/ Pec Job ft. Diavolo (Obey Me)

Frottage ft. Jake Lockey (Moonknight)

Hero/Villain ft.

At Work Sex ft.

One Piece of Clothing ft.

Bent Over ft.

Drunk Sex ft.

Requests:

All of my existing blog rules must be followed here too, please be respectful and read these

You can add anything to it along with the kink and you may add scenarios and/or prompts even a plot,

Send me the number of your desire and a character if there isn't already one on it and I’ll write it next whether it be a headcanon or a fic

I can turn down a request, I have that right as a person

If a number is crossed out and says: currently writing, DO NOT REQUEST IT

The characters and kink will not be changed if you make a request on which one you want me to write

Alternative universe’s are welcome

I won’t do mommy/daddy/mistress/master labels, pregnant reader or character, having a child together,

I will not do cock cages or rings, pet play, monster sex, snowballing, vomit, poop, feet, pee, sneeze, vore, or gore. There will be no kink-shaming either. other than that I’m open-minded.

I will write it in a random order and you can request in a random order

You can add another character but can’t change an existing one

Be respectful of the kinks and do not shame others for theirs

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desertrose244 · 1 year

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'After coming across a djinn, you wish for constant protection. He grants it by sending you a witcher. '

Accismus by @thedreamlessnights has been on my casual check-for-updates-a-day list for forever now so it's a crime I haven't drawn anything for it! These are from the newest chapter! I have quite a few more doodles but (forgive me) I haven't posted them because drawing Geralt is HARD HELP

Literally linking it twice so you have no excuse but to click >: )

#geralt x reader #fanfic fanart #fanfic reccomendation #Im adding the fic desc into the post now #because this is me literally advertising fics that deserve all the love in the world #geralt of rivia #witcher fic #self insert

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aifanfictions · 1 year

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A story about (y/n) being a hunter in a small village. The village then gets visited by Geralt of Rivia and his friend Jaskier. Jasier offers (y/n) to travel the world with them. After returning from the ball where Jaskier was invited as the entertainment, Geralt under the influence sloppily confesses feelings for (y/n) right after falling asleep face first into the bed in (y/n)'s and Geralt's shared room.

Whispers of Destiny

In the heart of the enchanting countryside, far removed from the chaos and troubles of the world, (Y/N) found herself seated on a weathered bench, the soft rays of the setting sun casting a warm, golden glow on the landscape. The tranquil village of Willowbrook, nestled amidst rolling hills and blossoming meadows, had become a sanctuary for her, a place where her heart had found refuge.

She had been a hunter in Willowbrook for as long as she could remember. The village had been her home, and its people, her family. Yet, the arrival of two unexpected guests would forever change the course of her life, steering her away from the familiar and into the realm of the extraordinary.

Geralt of Rivia, a man of unshakable resolve and a silver mane that seemed to shimmer like moonlight, had crossed paths with (Y/N) on one fateful evening. Jaskier, the flamboyant and charismatic bard with a lute that could weave tales as captivating as his songs, had accompanied Geralt on his travels.

The duo had brought an air of adventure and wonder to Willowbrook, as they regaled the villagers with their exploits and entertained them with stories and music. The once-quiet village had come alive in their presence, the spirit of wanderlust awakening in the hearts of its inhabitants.

One evening, as Jaskier spun tales of far-off lands and mythical creatures, he cast a curious gaze in (Y/N)'s direction. She, like many others, was enchanted by his storytelling, but what caught his eye was the glint of determination in her eyes, the subtle strength that lurked beneath her unassuming exterior.

"You, my dear, are wasting your talents in this small village," Jaskier declared with a flourish. "Why don't you come with us? Travel the world, see places you've never imagined, and have adventures beyond your wildest dreams."

It was a proposition that filled (Y/N) with both excitement and trepidation. The villagers relied on her skills as a hunter, and her responsibilities weighed heavily on her shoulders. Yet, the allure of the unknown, of uncharted territories and unforeseen challenges, was impossible to ignore.

She looked to Geralt, whose stoic demeanor hid a keen sense of observation. He nodded, giving his tacit approval, as if sensing the hidden potential within her. "Jaskier's right," he said, his voice gruff but filled with sincerity. "There's a big world out there, and you have the skills to survive it."

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, (Y/N) agreed to join them on their journey. She packed her belongings and said her farewells to the villagers who had become like family to her.

Their travels were a whirlwind of excitement and danger. They encountered ferocious beasts and cunning bandits, navigated treacherous terrain, and faced mystical creatures that defied explanation. Through it all, (Y/N) learned valuable lessons from both Geralt and Jaskier, mastering not only the art of survival but also the intricacies of the world.

As the weeks turned into months, (Y/N) found herself growing closer to Geralt. Beneath his gruff exterior, she discovered a man with a strong sense of justice and a hidden tenderness. She admired his dedication to protecting the innocent and his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about.

One evening, in a quaint village where they had stopped to rest, Jaskier persuaded the locals to throw a grand ball in their honor. He was the star of the evening, singing and charming the guests with his wit and charisma.

(Y/N) watched from the sidelines, content to observe the festivities. Geralt, however, seemed out of place amidst the elegant surroundings. He sipped his ale quietly, his eyes occasionally flicking in (Y/N)'s direction.

As the night wore on, Jaskier's lively performance continued, and the villagers danced merrily. Geralt, having had his fill of the revelry, excused himself and retired to their shared room at the local inn.

(Y/N), feeling a mixture of curiosity and concern, followed him. She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his white hair bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

"Geralt," she began tentatively, "are you alright?"

He turned to look at her, and in the dim light, she could see a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never witnessed before. Without a word, he rose from the bed and took a step toward her.

And then, as if propelled by some unseen force, Geralt gently cupped (Y/N)'s face in his hands and kissed her. It was a kiss filled with years of unspoken emotions, a kiss that conveyed his feelings more eloquently than words ever could.

When the kiss ended, Geralt pulled back slightly and whispered, "I love you."

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion, and she found herself echoing his sentiment. "I love you too, Geralt."

They spent the rest of the night together, wrapped in each other's arms, their love and understanding deepening with every passing moment.

From that night on, their journey continued, but now they faced the world as not just companions but as lovers. (Y/N) had found not only adventure but also a love that would endure the trials and tribulations of their extraordinary lives.

Together, they ventured into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that they had each other's hearts to guide them through the darkness and into the light of a new day. And so, as they traversed the vast and wondrous world, they whispered their love to the wind, for they knew that destiny had brought them together to share a lifetime of adventures, and they would cherish every moment, every stolen kiss, and every quiet night by the campfire, as long as they had each other.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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moonlightpirate · 2 years

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Masterlist

This is getting long so time for the keep reading cut!!!!

Return to The Madding Crowd

Chapter 1: The Storm

Chapter 2: A Fall Day

Chapter 3: To Love or Not to Love

Chapter 4: Proper Lady

Chapter 5: The Letters

Chapter 6: The Wedding Ball

Law of Destiny

Chapter 1: Stuck in Cintra

Chapter 2: The Journey Home

Chapter 3: Wide Awake

Chapter 4: Love and Dreams

Chapter 5: Damsel in Distress

Joey Batey and Jaskier

Secret Worlds series

The necklace

Together again

Dancing Under The Stars

Inkpot Gods

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Meeting the Lettenhoves

That Unwanted Animal

Part two Meeting the Lettenhoves

Adam Warlock

Goldilocks

Chapter 1: Thunderstruck

Valentines Day One Shots

Someone To Say

Madly

West Side Story

Somethings Coming

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shotgunbunny · 2 months

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hey guys I'll also be taking commissions for cai bots tailored just for you

COMMISSIONS

#leon kennedy #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levison x reader #geralt x reader #x reader #fem reader #female reader #x female reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #sherlock x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #ari levinson au #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy

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ashbye · 2 years

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🌈Hello everyone! I know its been a while but I have finally decided to start writing this! I've been pretty busy so I apologise for not getting this out sooner. I've also just not had a lot of motivation to write things at the moment. Either way I hope you enjoy the story. I just finished watching The Witcher season 2 so I will hopefully be as accurate as I can. This is a part 2 request from @chocotacobread by the way! So thank you to them for it! By the way I just watched Avatar: The Way of Water and my Avatar phase has been rekindled so I might write about that. I literally watched the first Avatar when the movie came out in theaters. Anywho here we go!

Warnings: swears, implied smut, make out

This is the link for part one: part one

Reunited at last Pt.2 - Geralt x f!reader

It had been a long journey so far for the three of you. After learning of Yennefer's death Geralt wasn't sure how to feel, she was a good friend of his. Along with killing monsters and protecting Ciri some new found feelings were starting to surface. You had never told anyone of course, especially not Geralt. The fear of losing what was just rekindled was too overpowering.

Ciri had started to become suspicious of Geralt and you. She had grown tired of watching you two dance around each other. So, she did what she thought was best, and took it into her own hands.

The plan was to simply stir up some realizations in the both of you. She decides that opportune moment for her plan to come into action is now. You were currently collecting wood for a fire while Geralt and Ciri were setting up camp for the night.

Ciri couldn't wait any longer. "You seem quite close to Y/n, don't you think Geralt?" Ciri asks him and after a moment silence he looks to her with a questioning eyes. "I suppose. Why?" She looked away from him towards the blanket she was laying out. "I don't know it's just that you seem fond of her and if I've seen correctly she is quite fond of you to." Geralt stopped what he was doing and quickly turned his head to her.

"What do you mean by that?" Ciri was struggling to hide her smirk as she responded "Oh just you know." Geralt's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. "Ciri.." he said in a low tone. Deciding to leave it at that, Ciri got up and started walking off. "I'm gonna go check and see if there are any bags left on roach."

Geralt stared at her back as she walked away. What she said circled his mind and he tried to figure out what ever that cryptic sentence meant. Coming up with nothing, he sighed and set back to work.

It was this moment when you came back with stacks of wood under your arms. You set them down and looked at the two of them. "What's got you two so quiet?" Ciri shrugged and Geralt only responded with his signature hum and continued with his work.

The next day you and Ciri were packing up your things onto Roach with some small talk. Ciri decides that now was the time to subtly drop her observations into the conversation. "So, you and Geralt huh?" You looked to her in slight bewilderment. "What about me and Geralt?"

"You two just seem very near and dear to each other. What's that all about." You looked back to Roach for a moment before returning your eyes to Ciri. "I suppose we are but I don't understand what you mean by that." Seeing your confusion Ciri was going leave it and you figure it out for herself. She laughed off the question, "I think you know what I mean." You scoffed and looked away. "If you mean to say that I love Geralt than you are far off. He's merely a good friend of mine.-" As you continued to ramble off about how the two of you were just friends Ciri nodded her head and walked off.

You sighed as Geralt came over to you. "What are you rambling about?" You jumped slightly and held a hand to your heart "Shit! We have got to put a bell on you! No matter how large and muscular you are does not mean I can you hear you walking up to me!" Geralt smirked at you and apologized before asking his question again. "Oh nothing, it was just something Ciri said. You know how she is."

"Everyone seems to think I know everything these days it seems." You chuckled at his words and nodded. "Yes well you are the intelligent white wolf, are you not?" He narrowed his eyes and responded "Don't patronize me." You gasped in fake offense as he did his hum of a chuckle. "Me? Why I would never!" You smiled at him as you felt a warmth bubble in your stomach.

You hid your face away in hopes he wouldn't notice you're racing heartbeat. But being a witcher Geralt noticed it right away. He felt a sense of pride overcome him from the realization that he did that to you. Neither of you could tell exactly why you were having these feelings but you could conjure up a guess.

You cleared your throat as started to step back. "We should head out, I'll grab Ciri." Geralt nodded and watched as you walked away your cape flowing behind you.

It was night when you finally stopped at an inn. Geralt wanted to camp in the forest nearby but Ciri begged him to stay in the inn. You were the voice of reason in this situation saying it might be a good idea to have at least one night in an actual bed. Plus you had just enough coin in you pocket for rooms, meals, and housing for Roach.

So here you were at the counter paying for a stable for Roach and two rooms. One for Ciri and one for you and Geralt. As the two of you walked in your shoulders slouched. Geralt looked inside and let out a mumbled "Fuck." You specifically asked for your room to have two beds but there was a mix up and ended up only having one.

"Well there's nothing we can do about it now." You sighed and set down you bag on the small table inside. Geralt walked behind you and set his things down as well. There was a thick tension in the room. It felt as if Geralt's sword wouldn't be sharp enough to cut through it.

You decided to bring up what Ciri said to you earlier that day. "So, Ciri was asking me something this morning." Geralt hummed in response to show he was listening as he was taking off his armour. "She was asking me about how we're so 'near and dear to each other'." Geralt looked to you with furrowed brows.

"And what do you think she means by that?" You glanced at him and sighed while picking at your knife holster. You weren't sure how to respond at this point. Maybe being blunt was the best option in this case. "She's probably talking tension or something like that."

If he was being on honest, Geralt was surprised she even wanted to talk about this at all. Considering how long they've held it off for. His jaw clenched in response as he searched for the correct path to take in this situation. Just as Y/n had thought, maybe being blunt was best.

"I think she might be right." You looked to him with a slight smirk and said "Oh do you?" He gave a light hum as he stared at you, as if that one hum would answer all your questions. You decided to tease a bit to see how far he could go before snapping.

"If you think Ciri is so right, then why don't you prove it to me?" Surprise was evident in his eyes while his face conveyed nothing. No emotion at all. "And how would I do that?" He asked you after a beat of silence. You took a step closer to him. So close you chests were mere centimeters apart. His warm breath ghosted across your cheeks as you gazed into his eyes.

"I think you know exactly how to prove it to me." It only took a second before he lurched forward and placed his lips onto yours. You couldn't describe how it felt in simple words. The kiss felt like pure poetry. It felt like breathing in fresh, forest air. It felt like sitting by the fire with a drink warming the depths of your soul. It was an experience entirely new yet familiar.

You never wanted it to end but the need for oxygen became too overpowering. Your lips pulled away and took in as much air as possible before going right back in. The first kiss was soft and sweet but now, it felt firm and passionate. His tongue lightly grazed your bottom lip asking for entrance. You willingly gave it to him.

Your mouths were partaking in a fiery dance of yearning. Hands gripped at clothes and exposed skin. It didn't even register in your mind that you were being lifted up until your legs rested around his waist. Geralt slowly walked to the bed, laying you down on your back and towering over you.

Before it could go any further though you pushed him away, wanting to make one thing clear. "Geralt, I love you." You panted out with what little air you had. He rested his forehead on yours taking a moment to bask in your words. "I love you too." He grumbled out before slowly taking you lips again.

All throughout the night you and Geralt proved to each other just how much you loved the other. Passion fell through the air until the sun peeked over the horizon. As the light fell into the room, you and Geralt lay in bed with your head on his chest and his arm around you resting on your hip. Your hand drew circles into his skin as you both basked in the afterglow.

You sat up on your elbow with your arm still on his chest. He looked into your eyes as a smile spread across you face. You hand reached up and lightly grabbed his jaw to connect his lips to yours. It was a light kiss that said all that needed to be said in that moment.

From then on the both of you had only grown closer and you promised to stick by each other's side no matter what. That night changed your lives for the better and you're so glad that Ciri had finally grown impatient enough to push you two together. After all it was about time you and Geralt had a proper reunion.

🌈There you go! I hope you enjoyed sorry it took so long!

#the witcher #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #reader insert #witcher x reader #geralt x you #geralt x f!reader

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