#witcher x reader

[bookloover35]

The Barmaid's Balm, Geralt Of Rivia x fem reader.

The inn was bustling with noise, a din of chatter and clinking mugs. You moved between the tables, your apron smeared with the evidence of a long night's work. Despite the steady flow of patrons, your gaze kept straying to the corner table where he sat.

The White Wolf, they called him. Geralt of Rivia. You'd seen your fair share of witchers passing through the town, but none quite like him. His sharp golden eyes seemed to pierce straight through you earlier when he'd ordered a tankard of ale and a plate of stew. That was hours ago, and now he sat nursing his drink, his face pale, his movements sluggish.

You weren't blind. You'd seen the blood seeping through his armor when he walked in. The man was hurt, though he made no mention of it.

It wasn't until most of the patrons had cleared out that you finally approached him again.

"Witcher," you said, voice soft but firm, "you're bleeding on my floor."

Geralt lifted his gaze, his lips twitching upward in a ghost of a smile. "Apologies. Didn't mean to ruin the ambiance."

You crossed your arms, unfazed. "You should let me look at that wound. I know a thing or two about patching people up."

He hesitated, golden eyes assessing you. "It's fine. I'll be on my way soon enough."

"Sure, and keel over halfway to your next monster contract?" you shot back, planting your hands on your wide hips. "Let me help, or I'll have no choice but to tell everyone that the great Geralt of Rivia passed out in my bar."

That earned a low chuckle. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

The upstairs room you led him to was cozy but sparse. You busied yourself gathering a basin of water, clean cloths, and some herbs while he struggled out of his armor.

When you turned back, your breath caught. He was stripped to the waist, his broad chest marred with scars, the fresh wound on his side angry and deep. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow.

"Still sure about this?"

You huffed, stepping closer. "Sit still and let me work."

As you cleaned the wound, his sharp intake of breath made you glance up.

"Sorry," you murmured.

"It's fine," he said gruffly, though his jaw was clenched. "You're good at this."

"Had plenty of practice," you replied. "Drunken brawls downstairs, you know how it is."

His lips quirked again. "Lucky me."

The hours stretched as you stitched him up and applied a poultice. Despite his earlier reluctance, Geralt seemed oddly at ease in your presence.

"You're not what I expected," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You frowned, glancing up from your work. "What do you mean?"

"Most people don't... bother. Not with a witcher."

You shrugged, self-conscious under his intense gaze. "Most people are idiots."

His expression softened, the corner of his mouth curving into something almost tender. "Not you."

Your face warmed, and you turned your attention back to his bandages, unsure how to respond.

By the time you finished, Geralt was leaning back against the headboard, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Just doing what anyone would."

"That's not true," he countered.

The sincerity in his tone made your heart skip. You stood awkwardly, smoothing your apron. "Well, get some rest. You'll need your strength if you're planning to leave tomorrow."

He caught your wrist as you turned to go, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You didn't have to do this," he said. "But you did. That means something to me."

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "You're welcome, Geralt."

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then his hand dropped, and you stepped back.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't help but wonder if this night would be the last time you saw the White Wolf—or if fate had other plans.

The End.

[flusteredtuna]

Focus On The Target

Geralt of Rivia x !fem! Witcher Reader

Words: 3k+

Warnings: ( 18+ Mature Only ) Choking, Finishing inside, fingering, riding,

Summary: After months of tension, a visit to his bedroom sparks something that was a long time coming.

“Focus on the Target.”

Geralt of Rivia was a Witcher to be reckoned with. His hard exterior is thicker than bone and rock. It’s just the way he has to be, to be able to fight those dreadfully awful monsters.

He took you under his protection initially a handful of months ago, when he found you lost in the forest. A lost and broken female Witcher. It was no law of surprise but you both found yourself inseparable. And with every foe you both have crossed, you have insisted that you can fend for yourself. It’s hard for you to resist being stubborn about it since you were both around the same age and once wielded power like his.

Today, he finally decided to teach you the trade of combat. Since you never learned under prior “guardianship”. For, there would be a point where you would lose at your attempt to get involved.

Your leather boots squelch into the terrain below as you pull your arm in with blade in hand. The slight breeze that carries sprinkles of rain falls into the bay of your parted lip. You swing the throwing knife at the target ahead, hearing it whisper its sharpness in the air as it flies. The knife thuds on the ground, refusing to stick into the wooden target.

“Your grip is key.” He places another blade in your hand gripping your fingers tightly around it to show you how hard you should hold it. “The angle you throw should follow your arm’s aim…” Looking over at him, watching his yellow eyes flicker as he focuses on your training, you admire his strong features. His husky jaw and broad shoulders. The way his hair looks like beds of fallen snow and soot, with a strand falling next to his furrowy brows. More than a handsome man, but a damn good-looking one.

“Just inhale deeply and let it go as you throw. Just like the bow and arrow.” You nod “I understand”.

You spin your head back toward the target that is nailed to the wide tree, narrowing your eyes. Throwing again you manage to make it stick, but not in the center.

“Better,” His voice sounds full of gravel. But it’s deep enough to be alluring.

You’ve been attracted to his presence since you met him. And he’s felt the same about you. There have been many times when hands graze, tension fogs a room, and sometimes your lips almost meet during the fading of dusk. Your hearts were more than friends, but you both never mentioned any sort of lust, when it fluttered in the air. You both just let it pass by for some unknown reason. I mean, how could you turn down a man so protective and valiant as him?

“Remember to take your time, the ease will keep you in line with your target.” He gets closer to you guiding your arm with his hand, “When the knife leaves your hand, you want to be aiming higher than the target.” Shifting your eyes from him back to the target, just to get a sense of how close he is. You inhale deeply, letting it all fly away with the throw of the next knife.

Geralt is impressed and nods. “Good, very good.” He hands you another knife. “Again.” His dominating tone makes him all the more attractive.

Continuing to practice, you make a good improvement. Even with the distractions of him looming over you, or showing you how to hold the blade correctly. Not to mention the exchange of glances here and there that feel so seductive. But his expressions are always too cold to tell half the time.

You practice until the sun begins setting in the sky. He plucks the last knives out from the spiral wooden target. “You did well.” As you move toward him he turns around to take the last two from your hand. “I believe I’ve made quite the improvement on the path to proving you wrong, Geralt.” His response is a huff. The closest thing you’ll get to a chuckle from him.

“We should get back inside before it turns dark.” He looks at you, “Get some food and rest”.

You both make your way back to the tall house you’ve decided to reside at for the month. It’s tall and made of cobble. Wide and large, but not as large as a mansion. It’s just more than enough space. The mossy stone is gorgeous with the way the golden light showers its surface.

After eating a sufficient meal you decide to head to the bath. Geralt leaves you to clean up and relax, as you’ve earned it. The bathroom is just as homey yet grand as the house itself. A large sunken smooth stone tub, with buckets and candles around it. Cloth to wash and dry with as well. You undress from your robes, covered in mud and grass stains. Slipping every item off with ease as your breath deepens in relaxation.

The bath is warm as you step in, one leg at a time, then sit on the inner step of the tub. The cuts on your knuckles sting as they meet the water. Training did not only involve throwing knives but it involved throwing punches. Some against hardwood.

Although you are exposed, you feel safe, finding peace within the subtle darkness of the room. You steep in the tub for a while, taking your time cleaning yourself. Tilting your head back and closing your eyes, you soak and relax further.

So relaxed you are reluctant to hear the door creek open. “Oh uhm.” That coarse voice makes you shoot your eyes open to find Geralt standing there. You catch him looking at your wet and free breasts, so beautiful as they glisten from candlelight. He quickly turns away, “Sorry I thought you had finished.” The last word echoes in your head. Finished. The interaction makes you grin. He’s felt the breast he sees before him yet he has trouble looking out of respect for your current nature.

“Not yet.” You tease and play with his words and smirk, looking him up and down. You wouldn’t mind if he were to look again. Maybe come over and join you. “I’m almost done. Unless you want to join me.”

Geralt nods and moves closer, refusing to look anywhere in your direction. You’re surprised he decided to join you, but you guess he just thought it was best to not waste warm water. “I cannot stay for long. I have tasks that need my attention later tonight”. He finally meets your eyes but doesn’t explore anywhere else.

“Well, There’s plenty of warm bath.” You gesture to the other side of the large tub. It’s spacious enough to fit four people. He starts to take off his ragged dark clothes of the day and steps into the bath, only leaving on his medallion. His body was covered in those familiar scars he lets you ask about. He sinks into the tub, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to pay the same respect to him as he did to you.

He seems very at ease in the pool as if everything else is just white noise. He closes his eyes and sighs as if he were waiting for this moment of relaxation. The water blurs everything beneath the surface as it ripples, and you watch the water as it waves.

“So what does the night feature for you tonight? You said you have tasks.” Your eyes meet his. Geralt seems to think for a moment, the water lapping the sides of the pool. “Nothing too serious. Need to deliver a Kikimora leg to an alchemist in town.”

His voice is comforting and relaxing. He has a lot of experience with monsters, so it’s quite natural for him to speak of them so calmly. “I’ll be back in the early hours of the morning.”

“Then you should take your time now before you face another creature.” You grab a sponge and hand it to him. Your hands touch on accident, as they tend to do, and he takes the sponge. “Thank you.” It glides over his muscular arms and chest, and you can’t help but watch him a bit. He groans and it makes you squirm your legs a bit. As the noise would be lovely in another situation.

You let a few strained minutes of stubborn sexual tension pass before you notice how pruned your fingers are. “I’m headed to my chambers, I’m in dire need of my beauty rest.” You grab a towel and start to emerge from the bath. "I look forward to seeing your beauty upon rising.” He turns his face away and remains silent after this, seeming to restrain any further comment on your naked figure before him.

You dry yourself as much as you can before wrapping yourself in the warm towel. Starting to walk out of the room, you turn your head back to meet his eyes again.

“Goodnight, Geralt. And good luck” You smile and turn to walk away closing the door behind you, just hoping he makes it back as unharmed as possible.

-

-

-

You wake up in sheer terror, gasping for breath, clinging a hand to your heart, and feeling your pulse race a little faster than usual. It was another nightmare. One that was rare these nights. You sweep your curly locks out of your face and try to gather yourself. Maybe turning on a light or two would help.

The terrors fade a bit from your memory as you cool down, trying to observe the room to distract you. It must be late in the evening, creeping into early morning as it is still dark out the window beside your bed. He must be back by now, he has to be.

You throw your blankets open and slip out of bed, still wobbly from your slumber. With slightly heavy feet, you make your way out into the hall with candle in hand. The silence of the house is accompanied by the creek of the floorboards and the wind faintly hitting the window at the end of the hall. There is no glow from the outside seeping through the window like there is in the winter. Just darkness and shadows of your surroundings bathe around you and your candlelight.

As you carefully make your way down the hall, refraining from making as much noise as possible, you reach his door. You stand in front of the mahogany and iron, deciding if you should bother his sleep he so well deserved. Although you now desired more than one form of comfort.

Taking a deep breath, you nudge the door with your knuckles just enough to see and peek in. The door’s hinges creak quietly as it moves open a sliver.

You find that his bed is made, and he is not there. A strange discovery as you knew he’d be back in the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N.” A large warm hand lands on your shoulder and you gasp. “What are you doing up?” His hot breath lingers on your neck. You turn to face him, candle at your side. He’s a little cleaner than usual with a few small scratches on his face and his garbs and armor rugged from combat.

“I could ask you the same question.” His eyes glued to you as he takes your candle and sets it on the hallway’s table beside him.

“I am well within my reason. You should be in bed.” He wasn’t wrong about either. But it’s hard to sleep when the best comfort is supposed to be in the other room. Now it faces you.

Taking the pad of your thumb, you swipe his cheek and ignore his scolding. “Didn’t get too beat up, I hope.” He holds your hand in place and closes his eyes for a moment, taking in your palm. Then meeting his eyes with yours again, he lets go of the grasp and lets your hand fall.

“All went well indeed.” He moves a step closer to you backing you up against the wall.

“Now. I will ask you again. What are you doing up?” His voice makes you shiver with how low it is. Although it’s an intimidating tone, you find it protective.

“I’m safe and sound aren’t I? Why does it matter.” You try to throw your attitude at him to show he has no control over you.

“Because. You tend to linger by my bedpost when you’ve had a night terror.” He’s not wrong. You would come to him when it was unbearable because he was the only company you knew to turn to. You stay quiet with a tough look on your face, and he clearly reads you like a book.

He takes a step forward and as a result, you are pinned to the wall between his door and the table with the candle lit. “Or are your intentions…” Leaning in, he puts a hand on the wall right over your shoulder. Another attempt at protective imitation. “More seductive?”

“Perhaps a bit of both…” You analyze all his features, letting your eyes wander. “Perhaps…” You move a smidge closer to him, breath upon breath, “more seductive intentions.”

He doesn’t even let you catch your breath before taking a firm hand to your hip and locking lips with you. The kiss is filled with a feverous passion that makes you ache for more. You reach for his face again, pulling him closer, while you put another hand on his chest starting to unbuckle his armor at the sides.

This felt different than the other moments when you’re lips met each other. This felt like it was going to lead somewhere more permanent. It was rougher and made you more in need of his touch. His chest piece falls to the floor while he works on taking the others off, throwing it to the side. Geralt was now easier to feel, with fewer clothes to shield him from your touch.

In a swift motion, he grabs you by your thighs and picks you up, pressing you into the wall while your legs wrap around him. Tongues interlacing in a dance, swirling.

As you both pull away, your lips burn with sensation. He huffs into your mouth and presses his temple to yours, swinging you around and taking you to his bed. His grip on your ass as you travel is firm.

His room is almost as humble as his, but his bed is just as handsome. The headboard is stained Mahogany with carved features of trees and animals. And the canopy drapes over the bedposts, making it a cozy resting place.

He plops you down onto the edge of the end of the bed and starts to loom over you again. Leaning in to kiss you once more, you scoot backward. Making him work for it. “Catch me if you can, White Wolf.” You make sure to annunciate the name, just to tease him further. Every quick move you make back, he advances. Until you hit the headboard, letting him have his way with you.

The kiss again is tender and filled to the brim with passion. He grabs your wrist pinning it above you as he starts to kiss down your jaw, then your throat, until he hits your night dress. A thin white gown made from cotton cloth that comfortably drapes your body. He sits up, staring down at you for a second.

“I’ll get you a new dress.” He grabs the opening right above your breasts and tears it open, turning the garment into mere scraps of fabric. And just as he found you in the bathing room, you are exposed to him yet again.

He takes you in, being so mindful of every hill and plain on your body. It looks like he’s mapping you out for a plan of sensual attack. He murmurs low at the sight of you, and a hint of a smile appears on his face.

Your knees are bent, stuck together, while your heels lay far apart. With his medallion dangling, he takes a hand from your stomach and glides his calloused palm down your side. He sweeps under to grab your ass, releasing his grip to then move to your thighs. Trailing up his hands meet your knees, and he moves them apart. Opening you.

As his hand moves, his eyes follow to meet the center of your opened legs. His treasure. His reward to reap. He dances his fingers to your inner thigh, closer and closer to your center.

“Am I to watch as you dangle satisfaction above my head.” You say softly while your breath hitches with every change in touch. “Mm-hmm.” He nods as he finally reaches your clit making slow circles. You gasp and arch as his touch consumes your entire being shooting pleasure up every vertebrae.

Leaning in closer, he grabs your face sternly with control and kisses you again. The sensation fills you with desire. He then fills you again but with his fingers. Not rushing but not hesitating either. In and out, he pushes again and again. Although this fills you with more than mere lust, you want to show him how you can overcome his territory.

You push against his chest with a hand and he follows the motion sitting up with you and slipping his fingers out. He might be dominating but he’d do anything for a beautiful creature such as yourself. As he’s up you sit on your knees before him and begin unbuttoning his shirt.

Stopping only four buttons down you look into his eyes with mischief in mind. You tear open his shirt the same way he did to your dress. Taking his medallion in your hands you pull on it just enough so his lips are once again close to yours. “I’ll get you a new one”. You smirk at him and his hint of a smile grows a little larger from your playfulness.

You unlatch the buckle on his pants and push him back onto the mattress. It was your turn to be the cat climbing over him.

As your breasts dangle in his face he starts to take his trousers off. You stop him and do it yourself, throwing them on the floor. Now he’s just as vulnerable as you.

Starting from his ankles you prowl your way to his hardness.

Within your grasp, it is firm and thick. Only growing thicker as your breasts hang in his face again. This throat purs with his low-toned vibrations making you chuckle. Lifting his head, he places his mouth on your breast while placing a hand on your waist. This leaves your entrance to hover over his cock in your hands. A tease for you both as you continue to move your hand up and down his shaft while his tip kisses your wetness.

Moaning and humming, you both stay here in this series of actions. But he desires more of you. Moving his mouth away from your breast, he places both of his hands on your waist. “I trust you remember our horseback lesson, yes?” He says looking at you.

Your grin is naughty after he says this. With his permission you slide onto his mass, stretching you, while he guides you with his grip on your hips. His length fills you and you struggle to look at him straight. It’s just too large to handle without going slow.

Now that you’re sitting upon him, you start to ride. Just like he taught you. Starting slow you bounce up and down letting your hair hang in front of your face. The pleasure is too much to bear with eyes open. Grabbing your face again he says “Look up, darling”.

His grip tilts your head up to face a mirror you failed to notice at the other end of the room, facing right at you. You also fail to continue to ride him, now distracted by the surprise of your reflection. With your hips now hovering, he gives you another surprise and starts to thrust into you. You start to close your eyes again as your face scrunches in pleasure.

“Keep watching.” He tightens his grip on your face as moans continue to escape your mouth. And you watch as he fucks you. He frees his hand on your hip for a moment to smack your ass as it creates a tantalizing sting, leaving your cheek red. He watches as you watch your reflection jolt up and down from his thrusts. Moving his hand down to your throat, he flirtatiously chokes you, while he arches his head back to watch the mirror with you.

Reaching a hand to hold his arm that has a grasp on your throat, he finally lets you throw your head back as you grow tighter around him. “Gods…” You exclaim. “You feel…so…fuck”. He chuckles low at you and starts to thrust at a faster pace.

As you both get closer to ecstasy his hands move back to your hips, and you bow down to meet his temple. Moaning into each other’s mouths, the sensation of your parts meeting is what the afterlife should feel like. It’s more than safe to say that this is the furthest you’ve taken each other than ever before.

Your temples continue to meet as he trusts, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you feel yourself pulse around him. Holding you close his movements get tighter and tighter. Until finally, a rush of sensation washes over you and within you, as he finishes as well.

Slowing down, sweat drips from your brow. He lets you feel him twitch inside you before lifting you by your hips while you gasp at the release of fulfillment. You feel the mixture of fluid drip down your inner thigh, a satisfying tickle.

You both try to catch your breaths lying on his chest. As your hand lays on his heart you feel his body rise and fall with each breath. It’s so calming here, even if your legs already feel sore. He puts a hand on your back to soothe you.

“Feeling better?” He asks. You realize that you had forgotten the original intention of lingering at his door. “I am feeling…” Sitting up you look into his eyes, tucking a piece of hair away from his face. “Magnificent.” A well-earned and rare smile appears on his face as he looks into your eyes. You feel proud to know you made The Witcher smile for once.

[scarlet2007]

₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ The Witcher's Witch₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 3.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Speak."

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

"What makes you think that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

"They knew that there was a beast?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's outside the woods."

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

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

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

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

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

"Why? Isn't the town safer?"

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

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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

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

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

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Burn her!"

"Kill her!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I will keep her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded in understanding, before cleaning yours wounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, Sir."

"Geralt." You looked at him in confusion.

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

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

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

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…

It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.

You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.

Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.

“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.

Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”

An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.

“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.

“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”

You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.

“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.

You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.

“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”

You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.

Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?

Typical!

The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.

Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.

Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.

Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”

You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”

The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”

Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.

Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.

Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”

“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”

“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”

You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”

“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.

“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.

You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.

You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”

“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.

You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.

When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.

“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.

Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”

~ More imagines here ~

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Set Up

Fic prompt from @always-and-forever-alone : I was wondering if you could write a store of reader, being called a monster for most of her life, and he either telling her she's not or saying something well it's happening(in he's way, because let be honest he probably wouldn't say it directly, God forbid he cares)

A/N: not proofread or beta-ed. I really wanted to get this one out today so I am going down with my typos. I had another idea in the works for this but this idea snuck up on me as I wrote. I honestly might keep working on v1 to post eventually but here's this one for now! :) ______________________________________________________

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” you screamed, your voice overlapping with the immense witcher standing across from you, who said the same thing.

When your longtime friend had asked you to come into town to meet a friend of his, you’d been hesitant. Life wasn’t kind to non-humans, and it certainly hasn’t been very nice to you. But you’d known Jaskier for years, and he’d never given you any reason to think he’d hurt you. Until now of course.

“Woah! Hey,” Jaskier, to his credit, sounded about as panicked as you felt, “please both of you just sit down and let me – Geralt put the sword down for fuck’s sake.”

You tore your eyes off the white-haired brute, his merciless grip easing off the hilt of his still-sheathed weapon, and chanced a glance at your supposed friend. There was a little bit of sweat on his upper lip, his eyes were wide, and he had his arms outstretched between the two of you, palms down – pacifying? He looked nervous but not guilty.

Why the fuck doesn’t he look guilty? You thought, confusion and hurt mingling bitterly in your stomach.

Wait. The witcher – Geralt? – yelled at Jaskier too. Why the hell was he pissed? Maybe Jaskier expected he kill you for free, or maybe he was on some kind of vacation and resented the job.

You set your eyes back on him, still refusing take a seat at their table, and your breath caught in your throat as his harsh, cat-like eyes, met and held your gaze.

“Y/N,” Jaskier said, waving you forward with the hand closest to you, “please sit. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” you hissed, “How you hired a witcher to kill me?”

“Kill you?!” Jaskier and, confoundingly, Geralt, said in unison.

“Come on,” Jaskier continued, softening his tone and looking from you to his guest, “you know I would never do that. I have no reason to do that. Please, just sit.”

Fighting every instinct, you pulled up a stool from an adjacent table and joined the pair. Your heart was beating into your ears but you figured the witcher wouldn’t make his move in the middle of a busy tavern so you should be safe – for now.

***

Geralt watched the woman sitting across from him with growing curiosity.

When the bard had told him he was looking forward to introducing him to a friend of his in town, he’d rolled his eyes. Jaskier was always trying to introduce him to women he knew, women he hoped would sway and soften him up a little. It was exhausting, infuriating, and frankly, a little embarrassing. Geralt didn’t need any help in that department and he definitely didn’t share Jaskier’s taste in partners.

But this woman was nothing like the others. For starters, she wasn’t human. Geralt could sense her power even before she entered the tavern, his medallion vibrating in warning against his chest. When she entered, he took immediate notice of the way every candle got brighter, each flame now leaning toward her slightly, drawn in by her power.

She must have been a fire elemental of some kind, he’d thought. Or maybe a sorceress who’d given into the Power brought by fire. Either way, Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off her.

His fascination had only grown when she spotted Jaskier from across the room and her guarded face erupted into a wide and open smile. A smile that turned defensive as soon as she locked eyes with him over the table.

She bared her teeth and sent a surge of power through the room, flames flickering around them. How did Jaskier even meet this woman?

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he said, pushing up from his seat and reaching for his sword, a confusing mix of defensiveness and jealousy settling in his gut. How and where did his soft, flowery friend meet someone like this?

***

“Okay, first of all, thank you both for agreeing to this.”

“I would never have agreed had I known –”

“Jaskier you son of a –”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry! That was a mistake, I admit that, I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, rambling, “but look, Y/N, you’re always saying how you wished you could find someone who saw you for who you are and not what you are.” He turned to you as he spoke, cupping his hand gently over your elbow, urging you to uncross your arms.

“And Geralt, please don’t kill me for this,” he blurted, placing his other hand next to the witcher’s on the table, “you’re too lonely for your own good, and I thought maybe if you met Y/N, someone who could match you, you could, I don’t know…”

“Wait,” you interrupted him, laughing despite yourself, “you’re saying this is a romantic set-up and not a,” you brought your hand across your throat in a mock-slice, “murder-for-hire set-up?”

“Now, wait, hang on. Why would I kill you?” Geralt said, speaking over your realization defensively, as if he didn’t reach for his sword when you made eye contact. “I’m a witcher, not a damned assassin.”

“Because I’m,” you hesitated and glanced around you to make sure no one was looking before briefly demonstrating by drawing a flame up in your hand and extinguishing it just as quickly. Jaskier was looking at you so softly, his eyes betraying the way he pitied you, but Geralt? He was looking at you like you’d just juggled the bread rolls on the table rather than summoning fire.

“Why would that be reason enough to kill you? You’re not a monster.”

“Tell that to every village I’ve ever dared to call home.” You scoffed.

“Geralt can relate!” Jaskier said, jumping in far too loudly and with too much exuberance. “People have been wrongly treating him like a monster for years!”

“Jask!” Geralt hissed, looking pissed and, wait, was he embarrassed?

“Sorry!” he squeaked, throwing up his hands as he got up from the table. “I am going to get us another round, the two of you… get to know each other.”

You watched your idiot friend rush over to the bar for a beat before rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“We could take him if we team up,” Geralt said, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes when you looked back at him.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you then, nor could you stop the blush that crept up your neck when you saw the witcher’s face break into a wider smile.

“Yeah,” you breathed, uncrossing your arms so you could lean over the table toward Geralt conspiratorially, glowing under his open and earnest gaze, “I think we’d make a good team.”

[lunarbreaksblog]

The Witcher x Witch!F!Healer!reader

Geralt of Rivia

He wasn't going to go near you, never trusted witches really but like he never trusted them, he was compelled to you like a moth to a light.

When he saw that you could heal people, he knew you were a rare being. Witches never dabbled in health and healing. But you did.

He asks you why, you simply say that you wish to help people. This is the start a grand friendship between you and the Witcher. You help him and he helps you.

You always laughed at his dry jokes. You didn't have much company really, you were shy and kept to yourself. Knew to keep yourself away from the village near by

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Becomes quite jealous of you when Geralt talks of you to her, she felt that you were going to manipulate or take Geralt away from her.

However, those assumptions quickly diminish when she sees you. Then to hear that you are a healer that makes you quite a rare thing to be treasured in the continent.

She decides that she'll take you under her wing, not to teach magic but to teach you how to handle yourself since she could see that you were bad at human interaction.

You would be dead if you had to be a royal mage to a king.

Maybe she'll ask Geralt if they could both take you to bed. She just knows you'll be even more beautiful.

Triss merigold

Absolutely adores you! She's only seen a handful of healers in her life so far. You, though, are the most greatest healer so far.

You have compassion which is suprisely rare for healers.

Her and you get along quite well. You too have regular meet ups to talk about everything that's going on in the continent. She helps you also get better at your people skills.

Iorveth

He's not one known to be gentle with humans, especially magic wielding humans. In his lifetime, all magic wielders have been egotistical. However, you are different.

It agitates him to no end to see you healing his troops, he feels like his manipulating you but he can't shake off the feeling that maybe you are the one manipulating him actually.

It's kinda like a one-sided angry staring match and with you being very uncomfortable.

Vernon roche

Like Iorveth, he doesn't trust you at first but after you make him some herbal tea that reluctantly drank thanks to Ves. He eases up on you.

Somehow you made his back not have that ache that's been bothering him for a while.

Starts looking out for you and just generally helps you when you need it

You've wormed yourself into his heart but he won't show it

[sixpossumsinaclownsuit]

[ellieslittleburrow]

Geralt Headcanons

Painrings : Geralt of rivia x daughter/ Geralt x platonic! Reader

Warnings : none

A/N : hello peeps, i tried my best to make them broader and not just limit them to father daughter stuff, we can turn one of them into a little ficcie if desired. Alsoo Comments are much much appreciated. Enjoyyy 🥀

-----

You and Geralt had found each other on destiny's commands. It wasn't easy, suddenly being under somebody's wing, having to trust them and listen to them.

Whenever danger was felt, Geralt would place a hand on your shoulder, his own little protective move, prepared for whatever's about to come.

When you're out in a market or somewhere he deems to be dangerous, he makes sure to always be somewhere behind you. No matter how far you get away, he's always somewhere close watching over you.

After a few of your nightly freakouts, Geralt offered up a little spot beside him every night. He doesn't order you to come over. He doesn't ask if you want to come over. He just settles down on whatever bed he's sleeping on and puffs up a little pillow he keeps beside him. If it's a whole seperate room. Then the same line is growled :"I'll keep my door open in case i am needed."

A boy smiles at you and the witcher is there to smile back. Not in a possessive way. Not in a she is untouchable kind of way. Just a simple smile, to assert his threatening presence. A smile that says if she is hurt, you're fucked.

Mornings are your least favorite time of the day. Geralt is always at the foot of your bed, gently swinging your foot left and right, in an attempt to wake you up. It surely annoys you but it's not until he grabs your wrist and pulls it upwards that you start getting annoyed. And then comes the full pull, when he grabs you from under the armpits and drags you out. You groan in unpleasentness but let go anyways.

Late nights are for sure your favorites, though. Just a grumpy old guy running after you and pleading for you to go to sleep. You dodge his reaching arm, giggling at his frowning features. He growls your name and sighs, giving up. And you just stand awkwardly, triumph radiating out of you.

What you reeeally dislike, though, is those little fights you and Geralt have about your future and your training. Him not wanting you to get in harm's way. You doing everything possible to get in harm's way. He yells at you. You never ended up crying or anything like that. You just bottled it up and sat in your little corner, getting slowly eaten up by the deafening silence that reigns the space. But then one of you breaks it. And everything slowly goes back to normal.

All in all, life with the witcher is not easy. But how could you deny the warmth that coated your broken heart, the warmth that filled it with love. The warmth that filled it with the father, brother, protector that you never had.

-------

End of poem. I could never use such methodology for my own school work, goddammit. Anyway, i hope yall like this ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[bigfan-fanfic]

Geralt and his bf cuddling up in kaer morhen. Just cuddling on a windowsill under some thick blankets enjoying the falling snow over the valley. (What a veiw that would be!) can you tell a little story with that setting perhaps?

The cold doesn't quite reach Geralt. The songs say the mutations turned all witcher blood to fire, but Geralt knows that cold affects him just fine, he simply has a higher tolerance to it because of mutations and the endless residual decoctions lurking in his system.

Perhaps the true reason for this warmth lies in his arms.

Geralt leans his head down, sniffs your hair, lets the scent wash through him. Ask anyone, he's not the poetic type, but ask him to describe the way you smell and he will find the most lyrical and most brief summary he can muster.

Maybe the answer is much more obvious and it's the heat of numerous blankets draped over yourself. Geralt would find it amusing - no, strike that, he does find it amusing. But along with that, it's just adorable. And he won't deny that the physical touch is glorious.

Geralt is a Witcher. And most people daren't deal with a Witcher, let alone touch him. But you - whether bravery or naivety or a need for connection greater than his - you fearlessly initiate and continue contact. Geralt had never cuddled before you. Bed sharing was usually transactional, and with Yen, let's be honest, if cuddling occurred, it was more Geralt holding her than her actively participating.

You seem to crave his touch. You hold his hand on your own, you wrap your arm around his waist and invite him to hold you round the shoulder. You cuddle into his chest as if it is a safe haven. You play with his hair, his nose, his lips, his chest, his arms. There is never fear on you - and though Witchers cannot smell emotion like people think, he can usually hear the elevated heartbeats, see the shortness of breath, the dilating pupils, the contraction of muscles as they tense - none of the signs of fear from you, ever. Not towards him.

Lambert would find it insulting, he chuckles to himself. Geralt finds it... enchanting. More than any sorceress' spell.

"Witchers can hear the snowfall, you know." He smirks. It's a game sometimes. He makes up some wild, outlandish 'witcher fact' and practically dares you to call his bluff. There's enough weird shit that IS true to often disguise well whatever he comes up with.

"Oh, really?" You grin, leaning back against him as the valley beneath Kaer Morhen is coated in snow like powdered sugar. In an hour or so, the clouds will drift and the whole valley will be obscured in fog. "What does it sound like?"

"Like biting an apple. Crunch, crunch, crunch."

"Ew." You respond, and Geralt can feel you cringe while imagining the unappealing noise. "That doesn't sound right."

"Snow is wet and crunchy. Ice crystals grinding together."

"Yes, but they land on top of each other, not crunch, don't they? It should be more like a tinkle or a wet thud."

Geralt laughs. "Ah, yes, I forgot. The Continent's expert in onomatopoeia is in my arms."

You turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You do know I studied at Oxenfurt? I taught a class or two at Oxenfurt - I know big words!"

"I believe you." You smile, craning your neck to kiss the underside of his jaw, and Geralt is immediately mollified. "You know what? Tell me about it."

Geralt chuckles. "It's not all that exciting."

"I like hearing your voice anyway."

"Alright then... this was way back, sometime in..."

And Geralt talks, you cuddle against him, and the snowtouched valley is slowly lost in fog. Safe. Happy.

Home.

[supercupcakecollector-love]

Are there any x reader witcher fanfics that are NOT about SHOW!Geralt

Or writers that write for any other characters in any of the canons

Does anyone have any suggestions? I know a few blogs but they are mostly not active

[little-bard-star]

What if...

On one of the rare quiet evenings in Kaer Morhen, when the moon barely illuminated the stone walls, (Y/N), an old acquaintance of Geralt's, settled into a chair next to the witcher. They often talked not only about monsters and quests, but also about strange coincidences and legends, of which there were many in the world of humans and in the world of Witchers. —Geralt," she said suddenly, "have you ever thought that you look like Daemon Targaryen?" Geralt frowned."Who's that?" "I'm sorry," he muttered.(Y/N) smiled." –"You know the history of the Targaryen family, right?" White or platinum hair is their distinguishing feature. But that's not what I'm talking about. Damon was proud and stubborn, tough and honest. It feels like your character is a direct reflection of his spirit. And the hair color... A truly remarkable detail. After all, who else has such hair among witchers? Geralt shyly ran his hand through his blond locks.— I thought it was the result of a mutation... all our mutations.— Exactly! — nodded (Y/N). — Many witchers have gone through this madness of transformation: potions, mutations. But you're the only one with such a platinum mane. Others look different. You're like a cross between an ancient family and a modern witcher. Maybe somewhere deep in your veins flows something more than just a man and the raw metal of alchemy.Geralt chuckled."So now I'm not only a monster hunter, but also an heir of the old blood?" It sounds good for an evening story around the campfire.(Y/N) picked up a mug of wine.— Let it be so. You are the Daemon of our time. But without the dragons... for now.And at that moment, it seemed to Geralt that the shadows around him had become longer, and the night had become a little deeper. Perhaps there was truth in those words—the truth of that most ancient power that he could not even imagine.

[lynette-m-roses]

Awakening Hearts

---

As the dawn broke, its golden rays gently caressed the world, awakening Geralt of Rivia from his slumber. As he opened his eyes, he found himself lying beside you, the soft morning light embracing your features. It was a sight that filled his heart with warmth and a sense of contentment.

The night had been a respite from the trials and tribulations of their shared journey. In the quiet moments, when sleep claimed them both, Geralt had found solace in your presence. As consciousness returned, he couldn't help but revel in the tranquility that surrounded you.

With a tender touch, Geralt traced a finger along your cheek, marveling at the delicate contours of your face. He studied the rise and fall of your chest as you peacefully slept, a silent reminder of the life that pulsed within you. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of affection—an emotion that had become an intrinsic part of his being.

As you stirred from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, a soft smile graced your lips. It was a smile that held a myriad of unspoken words—a testament to the connection that had grown between you, surpassing the boundaries of mere companionship.

Geralt's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and gratitude. He realized that in the chaos of their lives, you had become an anchor—a source of strength and solace that he never thought possible. With each passing day, his feelings for you had deepened, blossoming into a love that defied the odds.

As you sat up, the sheets cascading around you, Geralt shifted closer, his presence an unwavering constant. The morning light danced upon his silver hair, casting a soft glow around him. He reached out, his hand finding yours in a gentle entwining of fingers—a silent declaration of his affection.

No words were necessary in that moment. The unspoken language of their hearts spoke volumes. Geralt's gaze held a tenderness that transcended the battles they faced, the scars they carried. In your eyes, he found acceptance and understanding—a sanctuary where he could lay his burdens down.

Together, you rose from the bed, stepping into the embrace of a new day. Geralt's hand remained intertwined with yours, a symbol of the bond that had formed between you. As you faced the challenges that awaited, side by side, you knew that your love would be their guiding light—a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

In the world they inhabited, where chaos reigned and dangers lurked at every turn, Geralt and [Y/N] had found solace in each other. They had discovered a love that defied the odds, a love that would endure through the trials of their existence. And as they walked the path of destiny together, hand in hand, their hearts beat as one—a testament to the power of love in a world so desperately in need of it.

[metalgearwitcher]

Lambert Smut Headcanons

can smell every hint of arousal on you, that's how he knew you were genuinely interested in him when you were flirting with him and not looking to sell him out to some unsavory characters as soon as he was in a vulnerable position ( a common occurrence for a witcher) when he starts seeing you more often you make a game of it to challenge him to find you by your scent when he finally does the clothes can't come off fast enough, " you smell so fucking good, I need to plough you now"; he says through hitched breaths afterword he can't tell your scent from his own

Lambert hates the cold, especially with how bone-chilling Kaer Morhen gets in the winter, you suggest cock warming easing his cock into you, a shaking utterance of "fuck" escapes him, feeling the warm squeeze of your body warming even the deepest chill in his bones "you're not getting me out of here easily" he pants between breaths, he started looking forward to winter storms after that

unashamedly loud in bed, encourages you to also be, seeing the shocked faces at the inn the next day is hardly a detraction ( for him it's an encouragement if people are going to see him as monstrous it might as well be for something he is proud of)

Lambert has a praise kink the size of the continent, he never admits this to you but once after a hard week when little praises escape your lips like "You fit so well in me" and "fuck im gonna feel you for days" , "Nobody makes me come like you" you'll never forget the sound the left him when he suddenly reached his climax

king of snark ( but we already knew that) expect a lot of "what a prick" "sure is impressive isn't it?" type innuendo in bed

despite his rough exterior, he knows he can't use all his strength with you unless you are a fellow witcher or a sorceress if he sometimes loses himself in the moment and you end up sore and achy from the encounter he is sure to get you water for a bath and heat it with Igni  and make you herb salves to soothe your pain, you laugh a bit as you see him scrambling to do everything to make comfortable, the other Witchers would never believe he makes such a good nurse

he`s not used to people sticking around or caring for him so he's not too big on aftercare at first but as you slowly get him used to post-coital cuddling and soft touches he can't get enough of it, its often the most relaxed you ever see him, the little hitches in his breath as you gently trace his scars when you both are more than exhausted from sex is everything

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Jaskier confessing that you are his true muse…

Geralt and Ciri were off in the woods training. So you picked up a light bag of supplies and carried it to the rickety cart for the journey ahead.

The lute-playing bard trailed behind and had struck up a conversation about his inspirations. It was not long before he started listed various women (and men) who crossed his paths and drove him to write a line or two.

“I thought you were with the Countess?” You wondered with a small turn and a carefree laugh. “You last declared, boldly might I add, that she was 'the greatest muse to be found'.”

Jaskier nodded with a small sigh. “In hindsight I probably shouldn’t have. But she had been for my earlier works.”

You let out a laugh that sang into the sky, spinning back around and adjusting the bag in your arms.

“My, you change muses almost as often as pants.” Approaching the cart, you leaned forward and set the bag down. Dusting your hands before looking at the bard who had stopped a few paces away. “Is Geralt going to be the next?”

Jaskier scoffed. “He wishes.”

This made you laugh again. Stepping toward him, you pat his shoulder gently and made to leave but Jaskier clasped your wrist, catching you by surprise. His blue eyes were trained on yours as if opening up to your soul.

“Listen.” He said firmly. All jest washed away now. “You have been the muse to my songs from the moment we met and I cannot comprehend the magic you have woven in my lyrics - the beauty.”

“I’m hardly inspiration, Jaskier.” You told him softly.

“And yet I cannot imagine another face when I think, another smile when I write, another voice when I seek a melody.” Jaskier drew your hand to rest over his heart. “You have changed the essence of my tunes - the true ones.”

It was a folly thing to believe in love and happy endings with the perilous road ahead. And yet, you could not find yourself to pull away. Jaskier found a way to drum your heartbeat and dance to it.

If your fate was to be sealed in blood, then you would feel every remaining joy there was.

~ More imagines here ~

[iguessigotta]

Requests are open!

I'm in the mood to write (probably headcanons rn) so send em in!

[lunarbreaksblog]

Emhyr var emreis X Modern!GN!Reader pt.1

Note: I am insane for this man

You remember Duny, you remember his frail skeletal form as cried into your shoulder.

You were a strange person, the villagers had said. You didn't run away from things, you just stood and watched them. Wanted to figure them out. So, when you found Duny, you knew you wasn't a creature. He was a human. A cursed one at that. He needed help.

So you helped him.

Sure he was scared of you and was going to hurt you.

But your first words to him were that of comfort. Instantly he knew he couldn't kill you.

You were only a little older than him.

With a androgynous face and body, he couldn't really make out what you were. He asked you.

You simply said: "I am nothing" with a smile.

He was taken back.

But after a few decades, conflicts and wars, Emhyr perhaps knew what you were. After seeing the world through many lenses, you were special.

He fondly remembered his cursed days since you helped him through it and made it less depressing.

He didn't know where you were, one day you just disappeared. It seemed you fell through the cracks of the world. No one knew you.

But he knew you.

How you spoke of a land far away. How you missed it, how one day you'd go back to a land known as 'Earth'. You told him about the historical conflicts over at your home. How you felt bad for everyone and how it got so oppressive there.

Maybe you went back?

How could you leave him... You promised you'd stay with him.