#geralt x ofc

[deandoesthingstome]

travel the breadth of extremities

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia X Forest Nypmh!OFC (Fithra)

Summary: Your job is to ferry travelers through the dangers of your forest. Your charge isn’t used to needing someone else so badly.

Warnings: There is sex in this story. It’s pretty tame. Some oral (m and f receiving), some standard p in v positions (cowgirl, missionary, I think that’s really it but if you find something else let me know.) NSFW, +18, NO MINORS

Word Count: 6k

A/N: I listened to Hejira on repeat almost the entire time I wrote this story. The title comes from the lyrics. I hope what I felt about this tale translated to the page for you. I made up a bunch of stuff. Also, I don’t own Geralt of Rivia or The Witcher, but I own this OFC and the words here. Please don’t repost. Likes, comments, reblogs are amazing. 

"You should stay on your horse. And we have to keep to this path." I sighed heavily, frustrated at having to explain the situation yet again to this tall, silver haired man who had approached asking passage through the Faerlaith Forest.

We hadn’t spoken about much, other than his need to travel to the other side faster than a journey around the outer edges would take. I didn’t ask for a name because we have no need for that. And money wouldn’t be exchanged because it’s superfluous here. But from the moment we'd struck our deal, he'd already begun attempts to change the terms of our agreement. There weren't many, honestly. Stay on the horse. That was basically it. But this man, this witcher if my ken was to be trusted and it usually was, was not interested in being led along like dead weight.

“You’re sure we can't cut across the underbrush here? It'd be faster,” he groused, shifting to reposition himself securely in the saddle as I glanced over my shoulder with what I hoped was my best stink-eye as I led him along one of many paths with varying widths through the lush and dark greenery.

“You'd think so.” I’d already explained this to him at least twice since we set out from the forest’s edge, close to Gilgaard in what this man had called The Far Lands. To me, we were simply home. But this home was hostile territory to outsiders. Only the desperate and hurried ever bothered an attempt to cross Faerlaith on their way anywhere. Worn paths well clear of the forest would take any creature where they wanted to go, albeit hours or days longer than a trip through the forest. Usually.

“And I can't get down?” 

This question again, spoken with a gruff I was slowly getting used to.

“As I said from the outset, the ground in this forest is attuned to a certain presence and pressure. My footsteps and your horse will do you no harm. Your heavy gait would doom you.”

“I can walk lightly.” 

“Not likely,” I snorted, barely able to contain the laughter bubbling inside. I’d watched this man approach, reins of his steed in hand. He moved like he walked through honey, seemingly in no hurry, oddly enough. He was nimble, agile, stealthy to be sure. I could even imagine him cat-like. Maybe, wolf. But he couldn’t mask his weight when he walked no matter how quickly he might bound from foot to foot. Our land would not abide.

“Hmmm…” 

His low growl stirred an ember in the pit of my belly. One best left unattended, or so I’d always been advised. Passers-through were usually not of the ilk my kind cared to entangle with. But this man…

We walked on and I was grateful for the silence that settled over our tiny party of three. Of course the horse counted. How could she not? But the lack of grumbling allowed me to shift all my focus to the air around us, searching for telltale signs of danger, feeling for the practically imperceptible changes in pressure.

“So it's a certain gait that’s needed?” His voice caught me off guard for a moment as I realized he really would not let up.

“Mmhm.,” I answered, about to leave it at that. But maybe the conversation would be nice. It really wasn’t often anyone new came through. I decided to use his curiosity to my benefit, practicing the art of voice that wasn’t needed with my kind. “And pressure of step.”

“And you've mastered this gait?” he inquired.

“I was born to master it, so yes. Oh, and you'll want to be sure your horse...what was her name again?”

“Roach.”

“Yes, you'll want to be sure Roach doesn't try to feed or water along the way. I had you attach the leg guards in case the path gets too close or overrun with shrubbery. Her hooves are fine, but the skin should be covered.”

“The plants are dangerous?” he asked with incredulity.

“The water in the streams that lace through this land to feed them is, yes.” 

“Hmmm..” he growled again, the low throat reverberation permeating the air.

I hoped he wouldn’t ask how that came to be, that water flowing into the forest turned immediately toxic to anything not of the forest. That part of our heritage was kept hidden from all but the tribal elders. As if it would harm us to know why or how our land became so maleficent. In all my many years, though perhaps less than my somewhile companion, I was only taught how to hold the forest in high regard as I was nourished and sheltered, as well as to endure. I always considered it a wonder few ever left.

He seemed to consider it for a while as another silence fell and we walked further on into the depths of Faerlaith.

“Are you sure I can't walk myself? I’ve been studying the gait.”

“You've a hard time not being in control, don't you?” I laughed gently over my shoulder. It was amusing, this man who simply would not be told no.

“You like being in control?” he asked, a hint of something dangerous deep behind the words.

“Not especially. It's just what I do in this forest.”

“And out of the forest?” he asked.

“I could take it or leave it.” I honestly hadn’t spent much time out of the forest, so I’m not sure what those words were meant to convey. But I’d heard them once before, from a group I’d led through the bitter land and I liked the way it sounded.

“So I'm to sit here, on my horse, while you lead me, how far is it? Through the forest?” 

“We're about a third of the way through now. And yes. You just sit.” I turned my head to glance at him with a small smile over my shoulder again. “On your horse.”

“And watch.” I nodded in answer and he returned another low hum.

He was only silent for a few more moments this time.

“You can't teach me this walk?” It was definitely becoming amusing. I had a sense this man wasn’t verbose under normal circumstances, so I found it oddly endearing he couldn’t help himself here, where words were rarely necessary.

“It's the weight, too,” I replied.

“But I'm on the horse,” he countered.

“The ground doesn't know that.” 

He gave me another contemplative hum before continuing.

“It's a nice walk.”

“You've taken notice?” I was grateful he couldn’t see my eyebrow arched in curiosity. Why, I couldn’t say at the moment.

“I've had nothing to do but notice. It's...pleasant to see.”

I was about to ask if was sure he was talking about the walk when I spotted a Wrythe up ahead. The spirits were as dangerous as any other thing about the forest, save my tribe. The fact that this one had made itself known in enough time for me to turn back on our path to locate another route to the other side was puzzling. But it also meant I was distracted, and that my attention had faltered from my duty. 

“Why are we backtracking?” he asked as I carefully maneuvered Roach around in a wide part of the path.

When I was sure her hide was clear from the surrounding shrubs, I turned to answer.

“Don’t look back, but it’s gone now anyway. Still, there was a danger up ahead and now that this path for this journey is known, we have to find another way.”

“But we have to be already half way through. How far back must we go and how much longer will it take?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t say. I had hoped we could take the most direct route. I usually don’t have this kind of trouble. But I was sensed. And for now this trail is closed to us.”

Like a fool, he looked back.

“I don’t see anything.”

“I’m ignoring you for now. If you want to take your chances, be my guest, but I struck a bargain to ferry you safely through this forest. I’m going to keep moving and it’d be great if you stayed with me so I could finish my task.”

“But you’re going backwards.”

I didn’t respond. I had to recenter. Something was off. Could have been my balance, with all that twisting and turning as I attempted to view the witcher both surreptitiously and obviously, when our conversation warranted. Could have been the conversation itself. Something about the way he admired the gait. My gait. Had that caused me to falter?

We traveled back in silence again as I scanned the forest floor for the next fork that would allow us to turn back toward the exit location he had requested. Once I found it and had traveled a ways along the narrower line, I felt grounded enough to make another attempt at conversation.

“Can I ask, since I didn’t before? How is it you made it to Gilgaard without knowing about this forest or its dangers?” I called out, hoping the sound would travel over my shoulder and back to him without a turn of my head or body.

“What makes you think I come from the direction we’re headed?” Either my voice carried well or he had better hearing than most outsiders. “And you don’t have to shout.”

“You mentioned The Far Lands. Only someone not from here would call it that. And you don’t seem particularly aware of the specifics of Faerlaith.” I kept my gaze scanning the terrain in front of me, seeking out patterns or disruptions thereof. “You also don’t appear to be from around here and I had assumed you’d simply gone around us on your travels East. But usually those who choose to travel around us know why they are doing so.”

“Fair enough. I’ll admit these lands are completely new to me. I’m decidedly unaccustomed to being this unaware of my surroundings.”

“How did you even know to come this way?” I asked, always curious about why a new traveler chooses this direction.

“An old man, who come to think of it, may not have actually been an old man, heard me ask around the tavern about the fastest way back West. I’m already several weeks past due as my business in The Far Lands took longer than expected. This was his suggestion.”

“And what was your business?” He was silent and I took that to mean his business was off limits. “Alright then, how much did he tell you about where you were going?”

“Only that I’d need to seek an obvious inhabitant and strike a bargain. He mentioned the paths through were difficult, but I thought he meant twisty or hard to follow. He didn’t mention anything about poisonous water or vegetation, or spirits that turn you back when you’re halfway through.”

“Odd. Most folk who know about the need for a guide, also know exactly why. What a wonder he didn’t apprise you. Are you sorry you followed his advice?”

“It’s been a pleasant enough journey so far. If we can make it out by the end of the day, I’ll take the win.”

We walked on in what had become a comfortable silence. I could feel my belly begin to rumble but I felt rude eating when I couldn’t offer any of my food to my charge.

“Have you brought provisions with you? Any food, or water?” I asked, realizing I should have done so before we stepped into the tree-line. It would have at least given him the opportunity to go back for supplies. But when he told me where he wanted to exit and I calculated the crossing, I didn’t think we’d be stuck this long. 

Another lesson learned in my lifetime apprenticeship as a forest attendant. I’d been given so little instruction and I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d actually lose a visitor because no one had told me a key piece of information. 

“I have enough for the evening. And something for Roach. I suppose I’ll need to give her my water, since she can’t drink from here.”

“It would be best. I’m so sorry about that. Usually travelers know what they’re getting into. I really should remember to ask next time.”

At exactly that moment, another Wrythe appeared in the distance. Still far enough away that I had time to consider where to turn around or turn off next, but certainly in my intended path direction.

“What is it?” he asked, as if he could sense the shift in tension I held.

“We have to change route again.”

“What happens if we just move forward? I have a hefty sword, I could just…”

“You couldn’t.” I knew that for a fact. 

The bargains we struck for these passages were usually fleeting in nature. A favor to be curried later. Nothing truly tangible in the moment. Rarely, a brash young satyr would demand a weapon as payment. I always avoided such items, as it felt in direct opposition to the balance our kind struck with this forest to survive. But sometimes the outside trappings enchanted our kind. Those foolish young ones would find themselves face to face with a Wrythe, brandish a sword they only thought they knew how to wield, and end up missing limbs at best. The Wrythes were not to be trifled with.

“But I am an expert swordsman,” he responded, after listening to my tale.

“Good sir, I’ve never had anyone tell me anything with so much certainty. The Wrythes cannot be defeated. Only avoided. No one who has ever attempted to destroy one has escaped unscathed. And the Wrythe continues on.”

“There must be something…” I heard him mumble to himself. I had acute hearing as well.

We had just turned off to a new path, one I was sure would actually swing back around to meet up with our original route, a short distance past where we’d encountered the first Wrythe, when a third one made an appearance, though luckily off to the side and only audibly. But any more attempts West at this point would be deadly and I couldn’t risk it.

“We are not getting out of here tonight.” I tried to remain calm, but this had never happened to me before. I wasn’t sure what the next choice was, other than that I couldn’t go forward. And I needed to think. Something had disturbed my highly developed orienteering skills. “Please, no more talking.”

I eased Roach back around and up a short hill to a tri-fork. Glancing down each path, I caught a welcome sight and chose to follow the left-most branch. A short while later, a small clearing appeared along with an ancient dwelling surrounded by a raised walkway. Enough room for a man to dismount a horse without disturbing the earth. 

“I’ll have to check the provisions, but there should be a pail inside you can pour your water into for Roach. And you’ll need to tether her up here. Now that you’re dismounted, her weight will betray her. And she can’t graze besides.”

I handed the promised pail to the man and hopped off the porch with the other larger tub I had also found. Though it wasn’t the way I’d hoped to finish the day originally, luck had shifted to my side when I noticed the shelter and my mood was turning away from annoyed again. I set the vessel on the ground in the middle of the clearing and turned to see my companion wondering after me with a curious glance.

“If you have any magic powers,” I called playfully as I made my way back, “you should pray for rain tonight. Anything caught in that tub will be fresh and unburdened by the canopy of the forest. So it’ll be of value to you in the morning. Come inside,” I offered, squeezing by the horse and entering the small shack.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Have powers? Some. Though I don’t have the divining powers. I can cast a short blinding spell, to hide if I’m in the open. And I can speak through the roots. Not all of us can.It’s taken a long time to master, but I still have plenty to learn.”

I set about building a fire to keep the hut warm for the evening, then sat across the table from my guest. I studied his visage. His strong, square jaw roughly covered in a day’s growth. His cleft chin and full bottom lip. His brows furrowing towards his golden eyes.

“Since we’re stuck here for the night, could I ask your name?” 

“You didn’t need it before, when we struck our bargain,” he quirked an eyebrow at me.

“True. And I don’t actually need it now. But I thought it would be nice to know, since we’ll be together at least the night and well into tomorrow. I’m Fithra.” I wanted to extend my arm, to bind against his in greeting, but I hesitated too long and now he was answering me.

“Geralt.”

“Geralt. That’s a strong name.” I pulled my food from my pack and watched as he prepared a small feast from his. He was guarded about it before, but I wondered if sharing a meal would loosen his reserve. So I let curiosity get the better of me and asked. “What do you do, Geralt? For a living?”

“You don’t know?” he asked, seemingly surprised.

“I have an idea. But to be honest, the stories were all told as somewhere-else tales. I never knew they were true.”

“Many might wish they weren’t.”

“Are you a witcher then?”

“I am.”

“Must be maddening for you,” I conjectured, taking a small bite, conscious of the way his eyes seemed drawn to my mouth.

“What’s that?”

“Well,” I swallowed and dared a small lick of my lips, “if the tales are true, it must be torture that you aren’t able to use your powers to defeat the Wrythes. Since they can’t be defeated.”

“Everything can be defeated.” He took a bite now, and gave me an opportunity to gaze as he had.

“No one here knows how. And we’ve lived with the Wrythes for, well…since forever.”

“It’s usually true that when a people don’t know how to kill a thing, they name it unkillable. I’ve met plenty of beasts like that in my time. They don’t exist anymore.”

I fell silent with his words, unsure how to respond. I considered everything I had ever been told about the Wrythes, which amounted mostly to how to avoid them. What to do when I encounter one. Everything was some variation of “stay away” and not one piece of advice about how to harm them. Because we couldn’t.

“Do you know how they came to be?”

“Pardon?” I was shaken from my ruminations by his deep intonation.

“The Wrythes. Do you know how they came to be? Everything comes from somewhere, or something. And its destruction is often found in that detail.”

“No one ever said.” I sat dumbfounded. Suddenly, with a chill I hadn’t felt before, I remembered kin who had left the forest for good, searching for something more. What more, I could never say. “There are some who may know, but they keep the secrets.”

“What need do your people have of secrets?”

I thought about his question, even if he didn’t realize what he was asking. He couldn’t possibly know at this point that my people don’t communicate through words at all. We simply know what others are thinking and they in turn know what we are thinking. It was generally helpful in all areas of forest life, including coupling.

And as I considered what it would be like the next time I coupled with someone who knew exactly what I was thinking, I also began to imagine what it would be like to actually teach someone what I wanted. And to learn what they wanted also. I wondered if it would feel as exhilarating as learning my forest powers. If each time a discovery was made, I’d feel a fresh tingling, not better than the known, just new. 

But before I allowed myself to drift too far down that desire, I also realized this must also mean that not everyone can know everything everyone else is thinking. The elders had kept this from us. This origin. This danger. They kept the lore hidden and didn’t share and somehow I’ve allowed myself to believe what they said because why, but more importantly, how could they lie?

And yet they had. They had lied. They knew and we didn’t and they were able to keep it from us. It felt as distant and unknown as each power I might learn to strengthen my place with my people, in this world. Something to uncover.

Geralt watched me with steady eyes as I went through all the emotions that arrived with each passing thought. I wondered if he knew the moment I almost allowed myself to think about him learning my secrets. And I realized this is how they keep secrets. And I didn’t want that.

“I don’t have a need for secrets. My people may, though they pretend not to as well. It’s making me feel curious.”

“What are you curious about?”

“Why they keep the secrets. But also about you.” He wasn’t shocked or surprised. As if he was expecting it. Or perhaps hoping.

He licked his lips as he closed his eyes, shutting his light away from me but giving me a small look at what it might be like to make him shut his eyes with pleasure. The kind of pleasure that shone right through every fiber of a being so that even with eyes shut, the power and the energy might still break through.

I was eager to feel that with him and so I asked him if he would join me in the bed. He came without hesitation, grasping my shoulders to turn me toward him and leaning to press his lips against mine with an urgency I hadn’t expected. This was his desire as much as mine. I hadn’t enchanted him and for that I was grateful, because now I would be able to show him exactly what I needed and I could ask him to show me what he needed as well.

It would be brand new and exciting because there would be no expectations. Everything would be unfamiliar and all we could do was let each new touch, new caress, new kiss, take us deeper into the evening with one another. He undressed me, not as slowly as I would have preferred, and soon I lay naked before him.

“Would you like me to help you as you helped me?” I asked, eager to see him as naked as I was.

“I would like you to touch yourself for me.”

It wasn’t the answer I imagined but it was exactly the answer I was waiting for. He wanted me and he wanted me to prepare myself for him. There was no great need to add to the moisture I already knew was building up between my legs, but I felt an overwhelming desire to let him watch my tongue trace around the tips of my fingers..

The groan he let escape his lips at the sight told me how right I was. I teased my forefinger and middle finger and let him imagine exactly what I was thinking, which was how much I wanted to do this to his cock if he would finally release it from his clothing. As he moved to unbuckle and unbutton, I shoved my wet fingers right into my cunt, glistening before his wolfish gaze.

He didn’t linger on his clothes. If I thought he undressed me a little too fast, it was nothing compared to the speed with which he removed each artfully tailored article of clothing. His armor was admirable and clearly crafted by a skilled artisan, and yet it paled in comparison to the sculpted body beneath it.

I watched his muscles ripple with every movement and the sight of him made me press into my core faster and deeper with each new feature I was graced with. His shoulders, wide and commanding. His arms, bulging. His chest, taut and sprinkled with curls that begged to be combed through. If I wasn’t otherwise occupied, I would have reached out to stroke him,

I could only imagine his hips thrusting into me; his cock, enlarged and springing from between his tree trunks of thighs. I wanted him to sit so I could rub myself along them, leaving trails of slick in my path.

When he was finally naked, he dropped beside me in the bed and kissed me hard again. 

“Mmmfff. I cannot believe that a mere twelve hours ago you were but a stranger to me and I was promising future assistance and now we are here together in this bed. It seems apparent, but I feel I must ensure you are as welcoming of this as I am.”

“Welcoming?” I scoffed. “This is more than mere welcoming, Geralt. This is a promise fulfilled.”

He paused for a moment and I froze, worried he didn’t believe me. If he thought I was tricking him and would demand another promise in the morning, he would be wrong, but I couldn’t identify what he was thinking. That mysterious mind was now turning slowly to enemy and I understood why we had to keep everything in the open. Secrets make enemies.

“This is no trick. You made the promise of a promise. You didn’t know what it might be, as neither did I, but you agreed to the term and accepted my guidance. Now I am asking you to pay your favor early. To trust that I would never consider this the end of my agreement with you simply because you’d fulfilled your promise before I did. Tomorrow does not bring another bargain. This bargain endures, until I see you safely on the other side of Faerlaith. On my honor. Now, please. Speak to me as you would your lover.”

“It will require no great imagination, as I already wish this myself.”

He proceeded, then, to tell me exactly how to keep pleasuring myself for his amusement. And once he had shifted his body in between my legs, he admitted that placing his tongue dead center to nip at and lick at my not-so-more-hidden flower was making him unbearably hard. He endured for as long as it took to make me cry out his name, and I held a firm grip on his white hair as a rush of wet heat poured over his face.

When I attempted to move away and turn to place my head close to his engorged member, he stopped me. “I do not wish for that.”

“Ever?” I asked, sure I’d misunderstood.

“Just right now. Just for right now, I desire your weight lifted above me. I want to lay back and watch you slide down my cock. I want to see the pleasure on your face. It couldn’t possibly make you any more beautiful than you are now, but I want to know if I’m wrong”

He helped me find my balance and then watched rapt, exactly the way he had as I had touched myself for him. At first, he allowed me to move myself up and down his shaft, and side to side, grinding my hips into him when I could manage a full descent. Once he was sure I had experienced another wave of never known before pleasure, he began to thrust and rut up into me. I managed to remain upright for as long as I could, eventually succumbing to an errant buck and falling forward against his chest. He held my mouth on his and kissed me deeply, keeping our lips sealed against one another even as he began to turn me to my back.

Every move was almost exactly as I would have wished it. Every touch, every kiss, every press, every pull. They all felt so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. He took every cue I gave and translated it into the way I wanted him to put his hands on my body, and even though he didn’t find the spot I thought I wanted him to find, he found another. And the trembling I felt begin in my bones was nothing compared to the cry of ecstasy he drew from me before he roared with a final thrust.

It was as late in the evening as the early morning hours when I woke to find him seated at the edge of the bed. The fire embers were still burning low and I wondered if he thought we needed another log of slow burning knup wood. I was startled when he spoke.

“I can hear them.”

I was about to ask him who when I, too, heard the Wrythe’s cry. How had he not heard this before? In the woods, when my hearing had allowed it. I thought our senses were well matched.

“Is it always like this?” he asked.

“Like what? What exactly do you hear?” I countered, realizing I couldn’t be sure if he was hearing what I was. His answer confirmed it though. And as we listened to the low, mournful wail, circling the clearing knowing it couldn’t cross the open field to find us, I draped myself around him, legs across his lap and arms encircling his shoulders. I melted into the cradle of his arms as he reached up to hold me close.

“But you don’t hear what they are saying?” he asked.

“What? They don’t speak words.”

“Oh they absolutely do. They’re speaking right now.”

“Geralt. You’re saying you hear words in that low moan that you couldn’t hear not more than three hours ago?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

I waited longer than I felt I should have had to.

“Well, for ‘leith’s sake, what are they saying?”

Geralt proceeded to translate a tale that both saddened and angered me. These Wrythes, the spirits that would not let us defend a wayward traveler without injury, these forest menaces, they were protecting us. They were the ghosts of wayward forest kin, end met too soon in a hateful or violent manner, returned to their home. Cursed, as in life, with no voice as well as no unspoken connection. That skill had disappeared with the life. The ghost instead returned with moans. Or so we thought, apparently. Or had been told.

Geralt, and who knows how many others, had the ability to hear the words. If the elders knew and this is what they were keeping from us, I had even more questions than before. I slowly eased myself off Geralt’s lap to settle back against the wall and drew my knees to my chest.

“They are saying that there are still others, as far as they know, who remain outside the forest.” He turned to face me, drawing one knee onto the bed. “That they are only exceptions, souls who were killed in crime at the same rate as any other people in the world. They want you to know, there is no reason to think this would happen to everyone who entered the wider world for good, not just to make a trade.”

“But then why do they harm us when we ferry men, or sorceresses, or elves across?”

“Pure coincidence. The ones they appear around are most likely to do harm or evil to your kind.”

“But they appeared for you?”

“Ah yes. They appeared because they knew my hearing would pick up the vibration, but only after you and I laid together.” 

I blinked and took in the words, as well as the small smile on his face. The Wrythes had played matchmaker. That was why I couldn’t get across the forest this time. But then would Geralt have ever agreed to this if not for the interference?

“Yes. Yes I would have.” He seemed to know exactly what was going through my mind, but it was my clear voice hanging in the air that assured me the question had been asked out loud. “As soon as we were clear of the trees, I would have asked you to accompany me to the nearest inn for an evening before I continued on my way. I still may yet.”

I was surprised to hear such an unabashed confession and felt a swell in my heart. Even though our coupling had created a connection, it appeared to only allow Geralt to hear the Wrythes. It did not afford him the ability to speak without words to me. And he had chosen to speak his mind to me with no uncertainty.

“It pleases me to know this. In fact, it makes me want to return under these covers with you right now.” He gave a wolfish grin and joined me.

In the morning, I convinced Geralt to give me one last coupling. It was slow and lazy as he made his way up and down my body with kisses, tasting and nipping here and there, paying attention to what made me squirm and then repeating the motion a few more tortuous times. He found a way to make me almost release with just his tongue on my nipple. And he didn’t mind at all as I pressed against his chest and gently eased him onto his back so I could seat myself between his legs and press my lips and tongue to his cock before I slid my mouth around and down the shaft. 

I moaned around his girth and recalled how it felt to have him buried inside me last night. When I could no longer bear the memory alone, I eased off his cock and leaned back, beckoning for him to shift his body forward and over me so he could slip his dick back inside and make me come for him again and again.

It was worth the late start, especially because it had already been determined I would not be accompanying Geralt to the next inn. This one night, and now morning, would have to suffice. I was leaving the forest, for sure. The paths were still treacherous to outsiders, though as long as they stayed on horses and did not stop to water or eat, they could make it across without delay now. And without a guide.

I was no longer needed and so, yes I’d be leaving the forest to see if making my way in the wider world was of worth. But Geralt would not be joining me on my journey and nor could I join him on his. He was on his way to Kaer Morhen and late as it was. The route would be treacherous, the roads beginning to cover in snow. It was not a suitable place for outsiders. 

He turned to me with gratitude as we reached the forest edge and began to say our parting words.

“I will never forget you, Geralt of Rivia. I am glad to have met you along my way and happy it was through knowing you that the curse of my people was lifted. I am fearful about what this change will bring to my home, though. Maybe more of my kin will die at the hands of travelers.”

“The land will surely still protect you,” he spoke as a sage “And I have no doubt our paths will cross again someday. It has been my experience that once a kindred soul is met, nothing but death will break the bond and they will re-meet over and over. Surely, you and I are kindred. And I look forward to the day we draw near again.”

After a final kiss, wrapped in his embrace, we finally broke free and parted ways. I headed south and he pointed north. I turned on my toes from time to time, pleased to see him peering back over his shoulder every now and then until the distance between us was so wide and he began to drop down over the hill so that I could no longer see even the top of his head. 

I turned south again to make my way to meet my next fate.

Taglist:

@sillyrabbit81 , @kittenofdoomage , @mayloma , @kebabgirl67 , @fvckinghenrycavill , @geralts-yenn , @beck07990 , @itsrubberbisquit , @feelmyroarrrr , @sweetdreamsofgelato , @liveoncoffeeandflowersss , @alexakeyloveloki , @marantha , @aireraume , @angelmather1 , @lizzystuffsthings , @enchantedbytomandhenry , @omgkatinka , @littlefreya , @avengersfan25 , @thesaucynomad , @just-chirpin ​

Also, if you want this? @dadralt @hope-to-hell ​ maybe?

#geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia fanfic #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia x forest nymph!ofc #travel the breadth of extremities #mine #deandoesthingstome

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter III

I apologise for the very long wait for this chapter, in all honesty I had no idea how to move forward from Chapter II but this felt right, and it felt true to the relationship between existing characters, to an extent.

Geralt is tied to these two women in two distinctly different ways, and it's only now that he has all the information, he can make the decision he needs to. But that doesn't come without its consequences, which subsequently leads to other consequences.

I apologise again for the long wait, and hope to update with another chapter soon! I truly hope you guys enjoy this chapter! <333

TW: (slight?) angst

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Masterlist

Andromeda had thought they had come to an understanding. She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face and hope in her heart.

She dreamed of waking up to the sun heating her face as it slowly rose, opening her eyes to ashes of a well-worn fire as a gentle breeze brushed through her hair before her gaze met Geralt's.

She thought they would've exchanged gentle smiles, would've looked for excuses throughout the day to brush past each other, and engaged in small conversations hidden from the sight of others. And then, maybe when they had gotten too distracted or brushed too close to death on one adventure or the next, they would've exchanged a kiss. A small, hesitant kiss that they poured all their emotions into, where they succumbed to their desires and the strings of destiny.

Instead, she had awoken to burning lips and a quivering heart. She knew. The moment the feeling spread over her, she knew.

Andromeda couldn't open her eyes in fear of what she would find.

Geralt and Yennefer locked in a battle of passion? The two carressing each other in gentle affection?

She feared she would find a liar and a coward in the place where she had seen her Geralt in the glowing embers of last night's fire.

But she couldn't escape his senses.

Unbeknownst to her, as she curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut as tears welled in her eyes, and she pretended to sleep as she stifled her laboured breaths, Geralt knew she was awake. And he knew she felt his betrayal just like she had every other time.

His soul roiled in its place, his heart burned in guilt. It was not what it seemed.

***

Yennefer had woken up before the rest had, before the sun had risen and its warmth had replaced what was lost as the campfire died out.

Geralt waited for her to say something as she sat up, to say 'good morning' or to say she would take watch instead, but she simply sat and stared.

He lost his patience quite quickly, feeling the way her stare burned into the side of his head as he forced his gaze away from Rory and onto her instead.

She looked amused.

"What?"

His words were gruff, full of curiosity and annoyance. He knew he had no right to be annoyed. He had pursued Yennefer just as much as she pursued him. But it was different then.

Now, knowing that his Rory felt the same about him as he did about her, knowing she had been longing for him from the day they met, that her heart yearned for him, everything changed.

Andromeda could have ran, every time he had bed another woman, she could have walked away. And even yesterday, she could have turned away without giving him a second glance.

But she was full of compassion and sincerity, and she gave away chances as easily as she gave away her heart. It had just taken him too long to realise it was him she had gifted it to.

Yennefer didn't answer him, instead making her way to her feet as she strutted his way, her movements slow and sensual. She was so sure of herself, so confident she would get what she wanted. And Geralt was scared that, somehow, she would.

She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders as she leaned down and pressed her breasts into his back, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "you look tense. I could help you."

Her voice was low and sultry, and Geralt from a few days ago would have given into her words immediately, but the Geralt that sat in front of her now only grimaced at her words. His shoulders raised as he pulled himself from her embrace, standing to his full height as he turned on her - "no."

"No?" Yennefer was shocked, sure she had seen the looks the two exchanged, the way they smiled at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking, but it had never made Geralt reject her.

"No," Geralt had the knack to look at least somewhat apologetic, his eyes furrowing as he looked down at Yennfer in sympathy, "the circumstances have changed."

"Geralt, you told me that destiny tied us. That destiny wanted us together."

"I was wrong, Yen. Destiny didn't pick you, I did. But I can't keep choosing you anymore."

"Geralt..." her hand came up to rest at his cheek, her eyes pooling with tears as she shook her head in denial, "you love me."

Geralt let her keep her hand on his face, let her take what she needed as he broke the heart of another woman he cared for. He shook his head, "I don't. I love her."

It was a whispered confession, his voice shaky as the truth came out, and Geralt found a weight lift of his chest at the revelation, "I love her," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, Yennefer," she felt her heart break further at the sound of her name on his lips, "I can't love you, I can't pick you."

Yennefer's other hand reached up for his cheek, both now cradling his face as she ran her fingers over familiar lines and scars. She pulled him closer, but he resisted.

"Please, Geralt. Just one more time."

Her voice was desperate, he could smell the defeat permeating off of her, and when he gave in and brushed his lips against her own, he could taste it in her tears too.

The kiss was familiar, it was easy. It was a goodbye.

***

Geralt pulled away from Yennefer, as though her lips against his own had burned him the way it burned Andromeda.

He felt anger festering in the pits of his stomach, he hated himself for giving in so easily, for hurting Rory again.

He wanted to go to her, to plead with her to listen to him and know that it meant nothing to him. That it was a goodbye for Yennefer and not a betrayal to her. That he loves her. He needs her.

But with Yennefer's hands holding his face once more, and Jaskier rousing from his sleep, he had again lost his chance, and perhaps he had now lost her.

***

As they packed their gear, the air was stifled with tension. As Yennefer, Geralt, and Andromeda stayed away from each other, it did not take much guessing from Jaskier and Cirilla to realise what had probably happened.

Cirilla observed her aunt, worry colouring her eyes as she watched her move with no real purpose, her eyes empty as if every ounce of hope and life had been washed out.

Geralt was like a father to Cirilla, she craved his affection and even more his approval. But she knew that Geralt had to be the one responsible for her aunt's state, and she couldn't help the anger that bubbled in her chest as the minutes ticked by and Andromeda lost more of herself to the quiet around her.

Still, no one spoke as they carried on their journey, marching through the barren-land with their rations untouched and their stomachs full of lead.

Cirilla stood next to Andromeda, holding her hand tightly as she kept her aunt close to her side and safe. All the while, she would glare at Geralt every time she noticed his gaze stray towards Andromeda, forcing him to look back at the path ahead as he wiped any essence of emotion from his face.

But every once in a while, his expression would become drowned once more, and he would find himself throwing agonised glances her way.

Cirilla remained unaware of the guilty glances Yennefer threw their way.

***

When they had reached the nearest village, it didn't take long for stories about a nasty group of ghouls at the local cemetery that had been eating dead corpses and unknowing citizens, to spread.

It had gotten so bad that the people of the village they had come across refused to leave their homes after dark. So when they had reached a tavern, after a silent agreement they could all do with some hot food and rest, Geralt found himself agreeing to a large pouch of silver and a long, comfortable stay in the tavern in exchange for slaying the beasts.

He had agreed easily, of course. Needing something to channel his pent-up energy into, the anger and guilt that festered in him and the anguish that settled in his heart every time Andromeda brushed past him like he was not there, every time he tried to speak to her and failed.

Yennefer was still here. She couldn't leave knowing she was why the group had become so broken and frail. Perhaps her leaving would have made it easier for Andromeda to breathe, but it wouldn't lessen the pain Yennefer had caused.

She loves Geralt, and she wants to see him happy. He chose her every time before that day in the tavern, but she knew every time he had picked her there was a part of him that yearned for Andromeda.

She tried to hide from the truth in their moans and sighs, tried to find solace in their pleasurable escapades, tried to make Andromeda jealous, and assert the idea that Geralt was her's.

But he wasn't.

He may have picked Yennefer because of the cards destiny had given him, but Andromeda's name was scrawled across his heart. He needed Andromeda in a way Yennefer could never replace.

A heart-breaking revelation she had slowly been coming to peace with.

She would leave the group in peace, but she wanted to fix her mess first.

***

Darkness had drawn over the sky when Geralt prepared to leave, and as he sheathed his sword Cirilla couldn't find it within herself to plead with him to let her join, as she had done so many times before.

Cirilla couldn't leave Andromeda, couldn't pick Geralt over her.

Andromeda may not have been her blood, but she was the only family Cirilla had left from the life she lived before.

Geralt didn't try and push Cirilla to join. He didn't ask Jaskier to play bait, knowing he was disappointed in him, too. And he couldn't look towards Yennefer, fearful that one glance would confirm every terrified thought Andromeda had running through her head.

He had smelt the stench of agony on her. It was heavy and brittle and still so sweet in a way that was perfect for her. She was beautiful even when she was in pain.

He took one last glance towards his ragged group of friends, a longing gaze marked for the woman who had stolen his heart and burned her presence into his soul. He lowered his head in shame, gruffly clearing his throat as he spoke, "you should all get some rest. Don't wait for me."

He walked out, his form much more quainter than any of them had seen it before.

A few moments of silence had passed, and then it looked like Yennefer was going to speak.

But Andromeda beat her to it, sensing the conversation looming ahead she pushed herself up from her seat, "I'm going to my room."

She didn't wait for any reply, walking sluggishly to her room as her thoughts threatened to drown her.

Some distance away, Geralt circled the cemetery he entered, waiting for movement. Nothing came.

He needed bait, but there was no one around but himself. So he pulled his small dagger, pressing the knife into his hand and dragging a cut across his palm.

Replacing the dagger, he squeezed his hand closed, relishing in the pain as blood dripped into the soil beneath his feet.

He waited a breath, and then he heard it. Soft growling from all around him as the beasts scuttled in a frenzy.

He waited for them to attack, always on the move, and he pushed them back with his sword and sigils. He had fought enough ghouls to battle them with ease, waiting for one to separate from the group, snarling loud in rage as it got ready to attack, making it a priority to kill before repeating.

Geralt continued his dance, never giving the ghouls a long enough break to catch him off guard and never working too hard to break a sweat. One by one, he hacked down each monster until he was the only beast left standing.

The butchered corpses of seven ghouls laid at his feet, satisfaction filling his gut as he considered his work. He raised his head to the sky, taking in the darkness as he realised not much time would have passed since he left, but there also wasn't long until sunrise.

Geralt couldn't stand having to go back in and face his companions, a part of him was even scared to.

Scared they would leave him for his transgressions, hate him, and abandon him just like his mother had once done.

His heart sank to his stomach, never had he felt such emotions, strong enough to rock him back and forth between the idea of running away or facing his problems head on.

He didn't know what to do.

Until he did.

It was still night, and Andromeda hated the dark. So it would be unlikely she was asleep.

Perhaps she was stargazing, a hobby she was so fond of. Geralt recalls the way her eyes glittered as she peered at the starlight, the way she emanated joy and delight as she pointed out constellations and spoke of the legends and fables behind them, how her heart raced when her eyes found his and her eyes would track his face as though she had found her favourite constellation in him.

He needed to find her. He needed to see her and speak to her and explain.

Maybe it wouldn't help, maybe it would make her hate him more. But the weight of such a confession sat unbearable on his shoulders, he needed her to know.

To know why he kissed Yennefer, to know of his guilt and of his sorrow. But mostly, to know of his truth.

Geralt could no longer hide behind cowardice - a truth badly disguised as indifference and intimidation.

Geralt found his steps hurrying back to the tavern, his footfalls heavy as he forced himself not to take off in a sprint. He pushed and pushed until he found himself at the tavern doors, never taking a breath to stop as he pushed through, tearing past a silent trio huddled by a fire and finding his way to the room he knew Andromeda would be in.

Faintly he hears Jaskier exclaim from his place by the fire, "fucking, finally!" And he feels a ghost of a smile stretch across his face.

A smile that sinks when he finds himself face-to-face with the door that separated him and the woman he had given his heart to, years before he had even realised.

Geralt wasn't sure if he should knock or barge in like he had done at the other tavern not so long ago. He wasn't sure if he should call out to her or simply get onto his knees and beg from outside.

His hand rested on the doorknob, steady and gentle as he twisted the door and creaked it open, "Rory?"

His voice was quiet, a hopeful whisper that was left unanswered.

As the door opened wider, Geralt could feel his heart sink at the realisation of what he had missed on his wild dash here. Something he should have realised miles before he had even reached the tavern once more.

He couldn't smell her sweet, sickly scent, the absence of orange blossoms and jasmine weighing heavy in his heart.

He couldn't hear her quiet breathing as she drowned herself in her imagination or her ragged breaths as she tried to hold back tears.

He couldn't hear the rustle of fabric as she fidgeted and picked at the loose strings in her clothes, or the sound of her comb brushing through her hair, or her huffs of boredom, or groans of irritations. Nothing.

Geralt could no longer hear the sound of her heartbeat.

He pushed open the door, his mind almost out of control as his actions became desperate. The room was bare, even of Andromeda's belongings and opposite him sat a lonely window, its sheer curtain billowing in the winds.

Rory had left. And it was all his fault.

Geralt's eyes burned, but he no longer had the strength to hold back his tears and let them fall freely down his face.

He walked the rest of the way in the room, sitting down heavily on the bed and basking in the faint smell of orange blossoms that surrounded him, and hidden between them was a scent he recognised as determination.

Geralt looked down at his hands, bloodied and destroyed, and found himself imagining a life where he hadn't lost Andromeda to his stupid mistakes.

He would fix this. He had to.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

#geralt x oc #geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia #geralt of river x reader #geralt x ofc #geralt x you #the witcher #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra

[rileytwenty]

Honestly this story is crack that I have not proof read, but in terms of plot I love it and if you like Henry Cavill chances are you will too. Thanks for your guys’ support. 

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Captain Syverson (Sand Castle), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Mike (Hellraiser), Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Hybrid AU

Summary: The usually confident Jess's mother is sick with cancer. Preparing to grieve, she goes into the shelter knowing she wants to help a hybrid. She meets Lab/Retriever!Mike and his brother German Shepherd!Syverson, and then, eventfully, she meets and saves Arctic Wolf!Geralt. She also picks up a stray, Malinois!Walter Marshall. She swears that she doesn't have feelings for them, because she can't have feelings for those she has legal power over. It would be immoral. But how can she resist all four of them? How will the house dynamics fall into place, and what will they all have to live through together?

#syverson #captain syverson #syverson fluff #walter marshall #sand castle #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt #witcher #thewitcher #geralt x ofc #night hunter #henry cavill #henry cavil #hybrid au #hybrid #hybrids #dog!hybrid #wolf #werewolves #werewolf #x oc #fem oc #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #mike hellraiser

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Shift My World: Prologue (The Witcher Fanfic)

Summary: Shifting is all grand and dandy for those who believe in it. Does it work? Who knows! Some people say it does while others don't, perhaps it's just something in the mind. Olivia Watson found the truth behind it as she transfers herself into the world of The Witcher one night after a drunken movie night with her friends! Only she wasn't expecting to get stuck there and worse off...she didn't expect to love them as much as she did.

Prompt: In honor of Henry Cavill who no longer will be with us on The Witcher as Geralt of Rivia after season 3. I have decided to take my ongoing story from Wattpad to share with you guys!

Wonderland Workshop

The doorbell rang exactly at 8:30 PM on the dot. The sound was followed by the excited barking of her large and intimidating-looking wolfdog Killua named after one of her favorite anime characters from Hunter X Hunter.  The large beast damn near big enough to ride was standing up on his back legs barking at the door as his claws attempted to tear the white wooden frame down to get to the person behind the obstacle. She placed the hot pocket she had just finished taking from the microwave down quickly on the counter as if it burned her and rounded the corner of her small kitchen; her clumsy self hitting her hip on the counter edge on her way making her clutch her side with a very unladylike curse as she stumbled her way towards her apartment door. Grabbing the thick black leather of her mutt's collar she pulled with all her strength until Killua dropped down to all four paws allowing her to sidle her way to the door to unlock the deadbolt and chain. Throwing the door open she was greeted by the sight of a bundled mass of a human figure carrying multiple bags in each hand. 

"Bloody hell Liv, Killua's going to give me a heart attack one of these days! I swear he's damn near to breaking down your front door." a female's breathy voice spoke up in a puff from under the wrap of her scarf. 

Olivia's good-natured laugh ended in a snort as she reached out to grab the bags from her best friend's gloved hands replying with a jovial "Oh he's just excited to see you is all!" 

The twinkle in her blue eyes told her that probably wasn't the full truth. Killua was a wolfdog mutt after all and his loyalty dynamic with Olivia meant certain death by mutilation at his jaws if it came to it. Of course, it wasn't like McKenzie was a stranger to the apartment so the wolfdog was indeed just excited to see a familiar visitor; one that neither he nor his owner had seen for a good two weeks. As McKenzie toddled her way inside and began unraveling herself, she plopped her thick winter's clothing on the entry bench by the door all the while the large beast sniffed eagerly at her pant pockets as if searching for something. Mckenzie laughed as she finished unwrapping her scarf and set it aside before digging into her pocket to pull out a ziplock baggy that contained some beef jerky inside that she'd saved especially for the large dark gray mass sniffing at her. 

"Is this what you were searching for handsome boy?" she cooed as she knelt and picked out a piece. She was not scared as the dog licked at her fingers that held the treat right before his rather large teeth opened just wide enough to snatch the beef stick from her hands and scuttle off to his bed in the corner of the living room to eat it. 

Olivia smiled watching before wrapping her arms around her red-headed best friend. "I've missed you so much! How was the trip to visit your family in Lousiana?" she asked into her friend's shoulder as they stood in the front hallway hugging and swaying to unheard music. 

"It was good up until Aunt Grace decided she wanted to get me to know the man next door that just moved in." McKenzie laughed rolling her eyes before letting go of her friend and looking around the apartment.

"Where's Kason?" she asked frowning realizing that it was far too quiet than it normally was. 

Olivia snorted and went to the kitchen around the corner to grab them a glass of wine as she explained. "Well, Kason is out on his 3rd date this week. I swear that man is just in it for the D," she said with a fond shake of her head. 

The laughter that came from McKenzie was contagious and the two of them began laughing at just the image of Kason out on the prowl to get himself some dick. Olivia sighed as she poured herself a glass of wine after sliding over one for McKenzie and brushed a strand of silky black hair from her face. Staring down into the dark liquid of the red wine she said softly with a bit of rueful toner in her voice. "At least someone is getting a dick around here. I swear my luck with men sucks!" 

McKenzie raised a sympathetic brow as she sipped her wine and was about to say something when her green eyes lit up excitedly and she set her glass down with a little clink as she began rummaging through the crinkly grocery bags and moments later she said in triumph. "That's okay because I got your favorite ice cream, M&M's, of course, the ones with peanuts in them because it's more fun to eat. I also had to get some strawberry Twizzlers that you like because your crazy ass doesn't like the cherry version; I got myself the cherry kind because no best friend shall eat Twizzlers alone, it's like a rule or something. Oh, and of course sour gummies of all sorts of shapes; honestly I probably should have gotten you a new toothbrush too for how much your teeth are going to need it after tonight." she laughed as she settled all the items on the small kitchen counter. 

Olivia's eyes lit up excitedly and she reached for a packet of gummies but her hand was slapped away playfully "Nuh-uh! Not until we start the TV series! Although, feel free to grab a drink. I didn't know what you'd like so I sort of just raided the energy drink aisle and the alcohol aisle." the redhead pointed to the other bag on the counter.

Olivia smiled fondly. Only McKenzie would raid every aisle for the darndest things that would make her happy. Olivia and McKenzie were best friends since 1st grade when they met during a fight over something she couldn't even remember. It was funny because the raven and the redhead had a love-hate relationship up until 3rd grade after Olivia's dad passed away due to cancer; they'd been best friends and glued to the hip ever since. Even when Olivia was 16 and McKenzie moved away from her into another city they kept in touch and would go see each other every summer up until Olivia went to college where she finally reunited with her best friend. It'd been 5 years since then and at age 26 they were living their best single lives together like they always said they'd do. Only now though instead of it being the two of them it was the three of them when you added Kason a 30-year-old man who was the gayest gay man you will ever meet. But he was such a sweetheart and loved both Olivia and McKenzie like his younger sisters. He'd first met Olivia when she answered his Facebook ad for a roommate for an apartment he was renting since his last one ended badly and he needed help paying rent. From there it was history; it had been the three of them ever since. 

"Is Kason coming back anytime soon? Like should we order in some take-out and wait to start the show?" McKenzie asked breaking Olivia from her thoughtful walk down memory lane. 

The raven looked down at her phone for the time and raised a brow thoughtfully. "He actually should be coming in any-" her sentence was cut off by the sound of keys in the lock rattling. 

A moment later the door opened and slammed shut with an exasperated looking man standing there unwrapping a scarf from his neck. His dark skin was glistening with melting snowflakes from the snow outside and if his skin was not dark chocolate brown his nose would have been red as a cherry no doubt. The short man waltzed into the kitchen seeing the two women and looked like a dramatic overly tired diva and a look on his face that screamed 'I am so done!'. One look at that face and Olivia refilled her half-empty glass of wine and held it out for their best friend who gratefully took it and swallowed half of it in one go like a thirsty man in a desert. 

"I cannot believe the audacity of men these days! No wonder you are single!" Kason exclaimed as he set the glass down with a clink. 

"What on earth happened Kase?" McKenzie asked frowning as she grabbed the tub of ice cream from the fridge she'd just put in minutes before and grabbed a large spoon before sliding the container towards the black man. 

Kason grabbed the sliding container and dug himself a large spoonful of cookie dough ice cream and shoved it in his mouth as he explained looking offended and shocked at the same time. "This man seriously had the balls to ask if I was freaking trans! Me trans? Honey, I even offered to drop my pants right there and then at the restaurant for his audacity because he said my voice was so high and because the outfit I wore screamed trans...bitch what?! Like, I found this man on Grindr for fucks sake; what else was he expecting? Some 6-foot bodybuilder with a monster cock who wants to be called daddy?" he waved the spoon around in the air looking like a pure diva.

Olivia nearly choked on her wine as she took back her glass and sipped at it before she shook her head giving her roommate a look of sympathy but one that spoke volumes that she thought the situation was hilarious. McKenzie on the other hand had no problem with laughing; having to hold herself up on the counter just to be able to stand up as her body wracked with laughter. Kason rolled his eyes and snatched Olivia's glass of wine before he chugged the rest of it down and grudgingly grabbed the glass bottle of wine left over and poured himself another drink. 

"Anyways, I'm done with men. Tonight, I'm sticking to a girls night in; speaking of what the fuck are we watching? Better be no chic flick bullshit." he said as he swiped the tub of ice cream from the countertop and stalked into the living room to plop his butt on the sofa. 

Killua raised his head from where he lay on the carpet to look at the man before giving a little groan and closing his eyes to relax for the rest of the night. The girls joined him moments later with the bags of goodies in tow and refilled glasses in hand as they all gathered together on the sofa to cuddle and watch TV. 

"It's called The Witcher. It's a new TV series that just came out. I heard it's really good. Got great comments, reviews, and is one of the topmost seen shows on Netflix so far." McKenzie said as she grabbed the remote to turn the flat-screen TV on. 

"Oh, I've heard of it before. It looks pretty good." Olivia gushed with wide eyes as she realized it was a title she had heard before; she had been a little excited for it to come out since the previews looked epic as hell. 

"Has some hot guys in it too from what I've seen. Some hot chicks as well I guess if I was into girls." Kason piped up in between bites of ice cream. 

The three of them settled into the couch as the first episode began rolling. With a bit of too much wine in their system, their natural unfiltered thoughts, and running off the adrenaline from the TV show they sat there talking hours later as the last episode of that season rolled to a close. Yes, they just finished binge-watching the entire fucking season like some junkies.

"Omg Garelt is so yummy! Did you see his ass in those pants? Holy shit!" Kason fanned himself with his hand.

Olivia laughed staring up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes after one too many glasses of wine. "Oh yeah, and those eyes? Like, even his voice gives me shivers. Who plays that man because I'd like to shake his hand...and maybe shove my tongue down his throat at the same time." she laughed in a drunken stupor.

"That'd be Henry Cavill. He played in so many good movies I swear! Man of Steel is one of the ones he's well known for." McKenzie added shoving a spoonful of mostly melted ice cream into her mouth after having stolen it from Kason's iron grip.

Olivia's eyes widened and she almost leaped from the couch. "For real? I love that movie! omg I won't ever be able to look at that man again the same way!" McKenzie nodded with a knowing look in her eyes as she hummed around the spoon in her mouth. 

"Ah, he's gorgeous," Olivia muttered flopping back down beside Kason who hummed in agreement and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. 

"So, have you guys heard of this thing called Shifting?" McKenzie asked suddenly as the silence broke. 

The two others raised a brow and looked at her funny and she just shrugged poking at the tub of ice cream as she explained. "So, I'm not into the whole witchy shit but I've been on TikTok so much recently that's all I ever see really. Like, it's this thing where you manifest yourself into your dream world or the world of your comfort character or whatever the hell it is," she explained shrugging. 

Kason reached over and grabbed her wrist gently and gave her a gentle look. "It's around your brother's anniversary isn't it?" he asked kindly. 

McKenzie gave a weak smile and turned away again as she continued to explain while Kason and Olivia listened and watched her with understanding eyes. "I've seen so many people on TikTok give their reactions and tell of what happened when they successfully shifted into their favorite anime worlds and shit. Others tell how to do it or tips on how to do it successfully and I dunno I guess I just..." she fell silent and Olivia stood up from beside Kason to be able to walk the two steps over to McKenzie's other side and plopped back down to cuddle her. Resting her head on her shoulder she sighed softly. 

"I'm sorry babe. I know it's hard...It's probably nothing but clout...but, if you'd like we can always look into getting a tarot card reading or something...." she offered hesitantly. 

None of them believed in magic or witches and stuff; none of them were religious either for their reason. But, even so, they'd give it a try if it meant supporting each other. Truth was, a few years ago McKenzie's older brother passed away in a tragic car accident on his way home for Christmas and McKenzie blamed herself for his death; she never got over it which was understandable because he was on the way to her house where he was staying and was so excited to see her again that he refused to take shelter during a storm which caused him to not see the car in front of him during the blizzard and crash; killing himself and the other person in the other vehicle. 

"Anyways, that shifting business seems funny, right? Heard all you have to do is write down how you'd like it to play out going in as much detail as possible before lying down as if going to sleep while saying some sort of mantra in your head; next thing you know you'll wake up in another world and the only way to return to yours is to say your safe word you'd wrote in the manuscript. How funny would it be if we could write something like that for this show and end up there?" she continued blabbering on in hopes to lighten the mood while changing the subject.

Kason snorted and shook his head. "Girl you be crazy. Only in my dreams would that ever be for real," he said.

"I think that's the point, Kase." Olivia laughed and shook her head before looking at the night and groaning. "Guys, I gotta be up in like 5 hours for work. Help me clean this up before we head to bed okay? Hell, you can stay up if you want but my cranky ass is needing a bed right now." Olivia said standing up to her feet and began picking up the trash off the floors and coffee table.

"Gurl we got it! Go ahead and head to bed. Kenzie and I got it; we'll head to bed right after." Kason said waving the raven off as he stood and got the lights clicked on.

The redheaded woman gave a smile and nodded waving her bestie away who gave a reluctant smile before heading down the hall to her small bedroom. But even after she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and dressed in her comfiest of pajamas she couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was the wine talking in her system or her sleep-deprived brain; hell could even be her lady bits below speaking to her. But she found it the best idea to hop out of bed and grab an old notebook that she hadn't fully used up in her college years and began writing. She didn't even realize what she was writing until the last period was placed. At this point, the pages were all over her bed and the lights outside her door were turned off; it was silent in the apartment so she guessed it'd been a while since she began writing. Kason was probably in his room right now asleep and McKenzie passed out on the couch with Killua guarding like the faithful mutt he was. But here she was still awake and staring at pages upon pages of scribbling writing with eyes that were beginning to blur. She was so tired and her fingers were cramping from holding her pencil for god knows how long. She didn't even realize what she'd written until her eyes picked up a few snippets of words. Geralt-Rivia-Roach-Blaviken-Jaskier and others made her foggy mind click into place. She started laughing then realized just what she was writing and rolled her eyes. Her stupid drunk mind thought it'd be a great idea to write a manuscript off the idea of shifting into the world of the Witcher TV series. Damn McKenzie and her wild imaginations bleeding into Olivia's open mind. 

She stood then and gathered the scattered pages of her hard work and dumped them into the trashcan by her closet door and returned to bed. She reached to click off her bedside lamp before her eyes got drowned in the bundle of papers in the trash bin. A frown tugged at her brows as if she couldn't understand why she felt disappointed and upset at shoving the papers in there. It was just silly nonsense, right? Just some trend on Tiktok that people used to get clout and get views by using the idea of shifting and world jumping to the simps of the viewers. They were all so gullible; she was gullible too. But even still those papers just didn't sit well with the woman so after tossing and turning she finally flung the covers off and hopped out of bed to gather said paperwork and plopped them onto her nightstand so that in the morning she would figure out what to do with them. Finally feeling fewer ants in her pants she allowed herself to close her eyes and let the drowsy effects of the alcohol pull her into slumber. 

When she finally awoke after a blissful 2-hour sleep it was not to the sound of birds chirping outside her window or the sound of nails clawing at her door. It was not even the smell of fresh coffee or breakfast being made that she knew Kason would be making as he did every morning as she got ready for work. No, instead of her normal routine wake-up call she got something splashing her in the face. She yelped sitting up from her bed wiping her face expecting to see a laughing McKenzie but instead, she saw nothing but darkness around her and the sound of the howling wind around her. Trees loomed overhead waving in the said wind making the night sky look even eerier than before. There were no lights out but the moon behind a few clouds that rolled by slowly. What was worst the water she felt a splash on her was not water but in a sense mud. That much she could tell from the goop that stained her fingertips and was slowly drying cold on her face and hair. Her blue eyes widened as she looked left and then right realizing she was not in her bedroom in her apartment anymore. She was in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere that she did not recognize. Was this some sort of prank done by McKenzie and Kason because if it were she did not find it the least bit funny. Panic started to claw up her throat until she felt something soft and velvety brush her hair and she yelped; damn near having a heart attack as she jerked back and looked up into the darkness expecting some sort of monster but instead found the long face of a ...horse? She blinked confused at this revelation as she looked around once more. 

She was literally in the middle of nowhere in the woods and there was a horse? What the hell was going on? The horse though did not seem to mind her and instead seemed curious enough to sniff at her and paw at the ground which resulted in more mud flying onto her clothing. That explained the mud shower that awoke her at least. She gave a shaky smile and reached up a hand to stroke the soft snout of the beast above her. It was a pretty brown or maybe chestnut color; hard to tell in the dark but she could tell that it was bridled and saddled already making her wonder where on earth its rider was. Frankly, she wanted to know where she was too. Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant scream of some sort of animal in the distance; it didn't sound like any animal she'd heard before outside of horror movies and the scream made shivers of discomfort roll down her spine making her instinctively rise to her feet and inch closer to the horse that stood alert and waiting in the moonlight that filtered through the gaps of clouds in the sky. 

The sound of crunching twigs and underbrush echoed around her making her unable to pinpoint where it was coming from between the distance screams of some sort of animal or creature in the darkness and the area she was in. Her heart hammered in her chest as she swallowed thickly and reached up to place a shaking hand on the horse's reigns; expecting to leap up onto its back and ride away as fast as possible if need be. She didn't know where she was and she wasn't going to risk having a bear or wolf attack her in these woods; what a pathetic way to die after waking up muddy, wet, and cold in the middle of nowhere. Another twig snapped right behind her and she screamed a little while spinning around on her heels just in time to see a large mass barrel towards her. The impact forced the air from her lungs in a painful rush as a large and heavy mass of fur collided with her. A pair of golden eyes stared down at her as white sharp teeth poised over her face threateningly. She was going to die and she was going to die mutilated by a wolf just like she feared. But she didn't. Instead, the weight shifted and a wet nose pressed against her cheek inquisitively making her whimper a little and peek open an eye to stare at the wolf in front of her. Wait, why did it look so familiar? The beast crawled off of her with its tail wagging a little and sat down allowing her to fully take in the large animal. It wasn't a wolf. Well, not a full-bred wolf anyways. She knew those eyes right away and a rush of relief flooded her as she flung her arms around the wolf's thick neck and hugged him.

"Killua!" she breathed a relieved sigh as she nuzzled her face into his grey neck fur. The wolfdog that she remembered seemed to be a lot bigger than she remembered him back home and looked a little more wolfish than normal too. She frowned pulling back to study him; he was her Killua but he looked so much like his mother right now with his wolfish features.

As she studied him his demeanor changed quickly as he suddenly rose to his paws and took a few steps over her as if shielding the woman whilst his lips drew back in a warning snarl and his coarse fur stood up on end to make himself look twice as big as he usually was. Olivia tensed as she grasped fistfuls of his fur and buried her face into his side as if trusting him to hide her. The scream of whatever was in front of them pierced her ears so loudly she had to clasp her hands over her ears and she whimpered crouching into herself. Killua snarled right back and leaped towards the ugliest creature Olivia had ever seen; it looked like something out of a fantasy horror movie or something as the large dark form of her wolfdog collided with the weird spiderlike-figure in front of them. Teeth snapped and tore into black flesh as dagger-like fingers swiped back and forth trying to dislodge the large mass clinging to its body. Olivia's blue eyes widened and she felt the air leave her lungs as she watched helplessly as her animal best friend fought off a monster for her safety. 

Feeling as if she had to do something she reached for a large jagged stick by her side on the ground and grasped the thick wood she began rising to her feet. Just as the unknown beast flung Killua off causing him to be slammed into a tree making him let out a pained yelp and a crunch of bones. Olivia's eyes widened and a fire of fury filled her chest as she gripped the sharp stick like a spear and bolted for the ugly thing as it turned its back on her to finish off her mutt. Not on her watch! But a human woman and a stick wouldn't do much against such a creature which was well learned in a split second as the beast turned around hearing her battle cry of fury and turned to her; swiping its tail at her making the connection with her side and flinging her off to the side. She tumbled and rolled a few times before skidding to a halt against a rock. She coughed up the mixture of bile and blood that rose to her throat at the intense flare of pain in her entire body. She felt like gasoline had been poured into her veins as she struggled to rise. A mass of red spread quickly into her shirt across her side and a glance down spoke volumes of why. A large jagged hole gushed blood from her side every time she moved to light her flesh in fire and pain each time. She swallowed thickly and looked back up towards the beast that stalked towards her before looking towards Killua who lay struggling to rise after being impaled by a branch of the tree he had been flung into.

A pain flared in her heart worse than the wound on her side. Her lip quivered as she realized that Killua was probably dying right now and she was going to die too in this unknown cold place. She tried her best at least right? That's all that counted. She winced lying against the boulder behind her and gave a faint smile that spoke of her surrender to the inevitable. She closed her eyes expecting to feel more pain. She expected some tearing of flesh, broken bones, and pain that did not come as expected but instead, she heard a distant scream at the back of her mind as her consciousness was fogging up her mind from the rapid loss of blood. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe...Her eyes fluttered open to peer one last time through cloudy vision just in time to see the creature struggling against a figure; a human figure that wielded a sword against its defenses and was cutting the beast down. She saw a shock of white, a gleam of mental, and the last thing she remembered was a pair of golden eyes staring down at her right before her eyes fell shut and her mind went blank.

Next Chapter

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia x fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #titlemewickedwonderland #shift my world #henry cavill

[court-jobi]

Night Walks and Good Talks

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 5,558

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: mild descriptions of injury/poison; none

A/N: Another rest point for the Witcher and Kenna… these little moments are few and far between for two widely-versed travellers! Kenna may have a chance to settle down on the horizon… what will Geralt think of this news? And what might she think when more is shared about how her strong, silent Witcher really sees himself. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   

Kenna learns more about Geralt’s motives during his visit tonight. She knows he's looking for someone, and is spending any moment of quiet he can chance to rest up and plan his next move while he’s on the search. A certain buzz in her belly has been acting up whenever he comes around, though– and it’s making her more curious by the day.

Geralt values Kenna’s help and ear, tonight as always. Rare find, to have a friend to catch-up with who’s not engrossed in politics and stress and all the hazards of the day. He can just unwind with Kenna in the cool of a night like this, taking a walk to clear the lungs and keep her tucked under his arm… something he– doesn’t realize he’s doing until she walks in stride with him. For some reason, it just feels natural and he’s not so sure he wants it to stop. Still, he wonders how much he can really confide in her, or risk changing her view of him entirely.

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Kenna

When Kenna lifted her gaze from her tablespoon’s careful measurements at the light of the opening door, a welcome sight crossed the threshold. She scrunched her nose familiarly to greet Geralt as he strode into the tavern’s landing. It’s been almost three days now that he’s been out on hunts around the outskirts. The contracts he picked up were personal favours to follow up on recently, so he said before he set off. 

Geralt nodded back with tired eyes, but a firm-lipped smile back. The two shared an understanding that when her hands were busy with something small, accuracy was likely needed. 

Ever the hostess, Kenna would normally assure him that she would come over to his table soon when she arrived at a stopping point— but she froze, and looked to him again in a comical double-take:

Melitele’s freakish Grace and Favour… 

Geralt got a haircut. A good one.

Positioned from his perfect side profile, Kenna watched as the Witcher shed his swords and was currently reloading and aligning his crossbow at the bench of his table, nearest the fire. While his habitual maintenance was nothing new, her sights fixed on his now edgy undercut, shorn from the base of his neck up just so until a low-pulled ponytail gathered the rest of his hair. His beard also has been trimmed up, likely by the same barber. Its white and grey flecks mixed together more noticeably now in a shorter length, but still visible enough to catch the amber light.

Kenna caught herself. Not from self awareness sending her in a daze- but from a nudge from the owner’s young daughter, who tugged at the bottom of her skirt from the chosen hiding place beneath the table.

“More?” The child whined not-so subtly, and asked for the next batch of jerky to fill her plate.

Kenna huffed a little laugh and slid her a few more pieces from the seasoning rack. 

“Not too much more, kiddo- or else your mama will have my head if I spoiled your dinner. I’ll be right back okay? No snooping up top, hear me?”

The girl munched and swept her pile of dried apricots she’d chosen to play with into her lap, nodding blindly to Kenna’s soft warning.  Satisfied, Kenna deemed it safe enough to leave the child unattended for just a moment.

Wiping her hands of a few stray pollen granules chalking up her fingertips, Kenna slipped behind the bar to fill up a stein and drop it off Geralt's way. 

“Hey, stranger. Welcome back~.”

“Afternoon, Kenna. Thanks-” the Witcher looked up with a soft smile. He took a sip, albeit brief since a question spurred him with a playful snark, “Can’t still think I’m that much of a stranger to you by now, am I?”

Kenna crossed her arms, keeping her flirtatious outburst to a minimum but skewing her lip with interest, 

“Could have fooled me. I’ve never seen your hair up like that. You look like a new man.”

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Geralt clicked the last piece into place to secure his arrow and set it down, leaning back to fully enjoy his drink in the booth. “Got a bit of a shave while I was in Riverdell, east side of Toussaint. Got a friend of a friend there that came recommended.”

“You find a 'friend' everywhere you go, huh?”

“More and more these days- m’glad for any help I can get.”

“Good for you. It’s about time.” 

Kenna supported his efforts always, but couldn't help but cock her head admiring the new head-on angle of his updated look. 

Geralt noted her attention, of course. He always caught on quick to the smallest things. His brevity, initially more set on enjoying his drink, turned inquisitive as he sought her opinion on it.

“Haven’t gone for anything this short before. It was getting a bit warm underneath, so I thought I’d try it out. What do you think?”

“It’s– a good look, I can’t lie.” Kenna complimented with a surprised smile.

Geralt appeared pleased at this. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’ll have all the rebel ladies drooling over you,” Kenna sassed busying herself at the counter for a moment- anything to get a grip from leering at him.

Geralt chuckled mirthlessly at this, and shook his head seeking sympathy from the floorboards. Clearly the man wasn’t the sort for vanity.

“Not looking for that kind of attention. From others, I mean… Appreciate your encouragement though.” Geralt winked in her direction. 

Oh did she wish her heart wouldn’t stutter so easily when he did that. 

Muting a nervous school-girl laugh, Kenna plated Geralt up some of the same jerky and some tart field strawberries and stopped off at his table one more time. Getting back to her work would give her enough incentive to finish up and spend the evening she wanted with the ever enticing Witcher.

“Well, intentional lady killer or not,”Kenna centered back on him, “it’s a nice look on you and I do like it. I gotta take care of a few things, but we’ll catch up later, yeah? I wanna hear about that job taking you all the way to Beauclaire.  I bet the food was a-mazing.”

Geralt fingered around for one of the berries before eating it whole and nodding back. 

“I won’t spoil it for you. Take your time.”

And take her time she did. Kenna went back to her portioning and child-care for the next few hours while Geralt simply sat content to care for his weapons and eat. 

Kenna caught glances at Geralt a few times when her eye wandered. As early evening grew closer, he’d be reading over some papers and writing on occasion by the oil lamplight as the sun started going down. Kenna rested in the fact that at least Geralt was taking a break in his own way to gather his thoughts- and in an environment that was more comfortable than being stuck out in the middle of a forest all alone. At least here, she could grant him a refill or two and give him another human to talk to. Not that Roach was ever to be considered poor company...

With sunset came the usual dinner rush and patrons spilling in to rest in the early evening firelight. Each table filled up quickly, parties catching up with friends of their own while Dandelion started regaling the small hall with storysongs to pass the time. He was well received here; Kenna knew he would be. Given Roggeven’s strong positioning on the river, travellers from all over would come into the Gull’s Nest sooner or later on their visit- and would be excited to recognize Dandelion by name and want to come enjoy his repertoire. All was going according to plan here on this stop and for that, Kenna was grateful- and more willing to put up with the small gigs that bookended this stop along the way to the shining goal of setting up in Novigrad. 

Providing favours and independent sales of her goods were proving very profitable, actually- and efficient as she hoped her portable enterprise could be. Fortune certainly favoured her in Roggeven, and for every member of her party... though not quite favouring the body, as it grew more tired by the hour. 

The riverside location of the city was great in terms of walkthrough traffic; but could hardly be called comfortable or quiet accommodations, by that very token. The beds were squished together in their cohabited space, so Kenna roused intermittently to listen to the cacophony of Dandelion’s midnight mumblings, Terrance’s snores, plus each and every drunk carrying on outside. All this from the discomfort of a poorly-boarded bed frame that lifted against her lower back every night…

But to her credit, Kenna was hardly one to complain of lack of sleep. Truthfully, she could operate on little as it was and has slept in far worse conditions out in the wilds. But the toll on the body did have its drawbacks when she was supposedly given the promise of ‘plentiful accommodations' from their host…

With a moment to use the countertop of the worktable as means to help her stretch out her back with a solid grip on something, Kenna twisted about left and right waiting for the satisfying pops to free up the tension lodged between each vertebrae. Spooking a jump up her spine, she heard a low chuckle from over her shoulder. 

Geralt, keenly studying and sipping his ale casually as ever, leaned back against the end of the bar. 

"Had enough excitement for today?" The Witcher’s cheeky stance wryly waited, watching her bend stiffly upright again.

“I wouldn't call today exciting- pretty much the opposite. Boring and a bit repetitive.” Kenna primped around her waistband despite the tie of the apron cutting into her. “-And my back is paying for it. But, it was probably filled with more people and conversation than you care for.”

“You’d be surprised. Went on a bit of a scavenger hunt around the city today. Picked up some clues I’ve had an eye out for. Had to talk to a lot of people. Said 'please' and 'thank you' all day- you’d have been proud.”

Kenna huffed with a weary smile, “Well, look who’s growing up; networking like the best of ‘em.”

Geralt rolled his eyes flatly. “Don’t get too excited. I got what I came for- so it’s back to the lone wolf status for me for a while.”

“You seem pretty habitual for a lone wolf. Communal, even-” Kenna countered, “what, with you turning up everywhere Dandelion's gone recently. We could almost call you a groupie by this point. I think you actually miss seeing some friendly faces.”

“Friendly faces are always worth the visit; those don’t count. I never mind talking with you.” 

Geralt looked off to somewhere in the room, 

“--Now Dandelion? That thorn in my side is hit or miss.”

“Ouch, poor Dandie!” Kenna hushed a giggle down her chest, not wanting to betray her friend so blatantly, but still tickled by Geralt’s blunt delivery.

Poor bard, singing about the room unaware of the snide remarks… 

Kenna laughed easily at the end of the day, whatever the subject matter of jokes. Even Geralt’s dryness was welcome, after a day of being mannerable and hospitable to reel in clients and customers. Putting on airs and charms galore was tiring, as was effectively babysitting a child on top of her other responsibilities. 

She felt a sinking ease around Geralt every time he came by for a spell- and she hoped he felt the same. This was a nice little habit they were falling into.

Even now as she finished her cleaning up routine and might have normally turned in for the night any other day of the week, Kenna felt a second wind take over. Hands dried, she came to Geralt’s side of the bar to finally catch up properly.

Kenna tossed her apron aside for the first time today.  There were plenty of odd tucks of her shirt around the middle where her corset didn't quite wrap around fully, but at the end of the day, ‘style over substance’ hardly mattered. 

"Whew... No offence to the maestro here, but I could probably use some air, honestly.” 

Geralt hummed at her idea, watching over the room in his standoffish brand of quiet.

The idea came when her lower back cramped at the slightest movement, “Care to join me? Just for a walk around?" 

Geralt agreed, with a quick gulp to down the rest of his drink.

"Couldn’t hurt. Lead the way."

Outside, the air was beginning to cool and fog would be rolling in soon past midnight. The bells had rung the ten o’clock hour not long ago, but many of the ground floor taverns around the city were still alive and well at this point of the night. Here in the docking district, the liveliness of every establishment within four blocks could be heard by their boisterous bouts of laughter, inciting shouts for low-stakes fights, and calls for more and more beer. A jolly enough place to warm up, but maybe too raucous for Kenna’s taste after a day of fielding complaints and orders about the ‘Gull’s Nest Tavern’. 

Kenna hadn’t quite planned on keeping children from touching distillery burners and stove tops, or any other hazard-watching that monopolised her day… The cool, biting air made Kenna realize this was the first time she’d stepped outside since yesterday morning.

Here along the boardwalk’s edge, Kenna and Geralt walked at an unrushed pace. Taller and even-paced, Geralt took the curb along the water’s edge, keen eyes on the ripple patterns and reflective moonbeams skimming the top, while Kenna took in the sight of the stars, lamplights and everything on the side of the streets. This was one of lower tier areas of the staggered city, situated on a precarious hillside. But here on the outskirts closest to the river, the rush of crowded streets made for some rare quiet at night- and for plenty of stars to be visible without the clouds of steam rising about from the city’s daytime activities. Autumn would be around the bend soon which would mean more business in the weeks ahead. Kenna valued sleepy nights like this to be the calm before the storm. 

“How’s your hand doing?”

Geralt piped up from their quiet lull in conversation, calling Kenna’s gaze back to him. 

Kenna hummed, but remembered a moment later. Her hands stayed tucked in her pockets as they walked to keep warm, but she remembered her left digit's canvas wrap was still warming her wrist as it had all day. Became like a second skin, it did- conforming to the curve of her palm while healing, that is.

“Hm? Oh yes- it’s much better. Hasn’t given me much trouble at all the last few days, really.” 

Kenna’s gratefulness shone in her eyes, sliding her hand out and giving it a cursory flip for Geralt to watch the ease of how she could move it now.  

Geralt gave a neutral hum back and a small nod of approval. Simple as he treated the question, Kenna still warmed at the knowledge of how he’d played a role in the remedy of the injury:

Sunrise greeted Geralt’s final stop before heading to Beauclaire, but without Kenna’s presence at the inn as he expected. She would come in a few hours later: nervously shaking and sporting a long, barbed needle embedded on the fleshy outer part of her left hand, a casualty of her foraging. 

As it turns out, Kenna mistakenly selected a more poisonous plant for a mild one to weed through on her early morning walk. 

Having forgotten proper gloves (which, naturally, Geralt groused at her for forgetting after the fact), Kenna stumbled inside making a beeline for her quarters. Even from a distance, he heard the woman managing small winces and nearly tearing up over its fiery pain that she wasn't ready for. She rarely made a mistake that resulted in wounds- careful as she was to handle bark, barbs, and sharp exteriors of succulents. Quick as ever, a rush spurred Kenna back to her workroom for some hot water and a blade to leverage it out, but the deep green barb proved troublesome and she was growing feverish at an alarming rate. Something was wrong about this little pin prick, but Kenna hadn’t realized at the time how dire it was.

Not until Geralt swooped into the room without announcement- finding her fruitlessly trying to fuss at the injured hand. Geralt immediately knew what to do. Directing a frantic Dandelion at his heels, he called around the room with curt orders of what he needed in order to help her. 

The first task involved telling her how he identified the indeed poisonous barb, and how to extract it properly. Kenna’s gut twisted at the embarrassment she found herself into, but she hardly had time to berate herself with what the present was forcing her to address.

Puzzling– Geralt pulled a potion from his belt and started swishing some around his mouth before swallowing. Not unlike a palace taste tester would do his duty. Before Kenna could even ask what he was planning on doing to help, Geralt motioned for Dandelion to give him the empty cup on the table so it would be in close reach for him. Supplies set, Geralt braced Kenna with a calm assurance coupled with a tender grip on her wrist. 

A 1-2-3 warning later, the Witcher skillfully worked the blunt edge of a sterilised paring knife against the quill to coax the needle out swiftly— 

Then latched his lips to her hand.

… And started sucking.

Kenna’s frustrated tears stopped altogether. Watching in half horror- half awe at Geralt drawing out whatever greenish-black poison was afflicting her with gentle suction and subsequently spitting its remains out into the stein. 

Golden Oriole: the elixir he’d prepped with, was to thank for its anti-venom qualities. He’d later devine that its alchemical makeup served to combat what had begun to process in her bloodstream when applied soon after injection. 

But again, this saving grace solution was granted to her by Geralt’s very lips and tongue- never mind the fire-lit glance he chanced up to her eyes for the briefest moment while he effectively lapped at her palm. That look nearly stopped her heart altogether.

In the end, a simple herb paste was all that was recommended to apply after that incident once Geralt deemed her in the clear; along with orders of plenty of fluids to flush her system out. His hovering watch over her  that evening while everyone sat entertained by Dandelion’s program of the night didn't go unnoticed, either.

The memory alone burned in her, even now- unorthodox didn’t begin to cover that day.

Kenna could look back on the incident now with a safe sense of recovery and relief, though she couldn’t stave off the odd sense of wonder and… dare she say attraction to how Geralt had worked on her hand so gently. Surely that wasn’t part of his Witcher training, right?

“Herbs worked wonders, just like you said. And uh–” Kenna pocketed her hands again with a little lilt to her step and a gentle nudge to his arm in a purposefully friendly gesture,  “-you certainly gave it the best chance at healing.”

Geralt’s sights fell away from her at the emphasis on his tactics. Shyly, Kenna dared to think? The man’s head cocked aside nonchalantly and carried on like it was nothing. Perhaps for him, it was all part of the job.

“Poison’s nasty stuff. ‘Course I hope now, someone’s learned her lesson about wearing some damn gloves next time? You should every time, really.”

“I know, it wasn’t my finest decision,” Kenna sighed, recalling his previous lecture as well. “I blame it on my lack of caffeination and wherewithal to act sensibly that early in the morning.”

“Hm. Not an early morning person... Figured you’d be sunshine and roses the second you wake up. Always are, when I see you.”

Kenna sneered playfully back, 

“I’ll spare you that experience then, Master Witcher. Fortunately, no one back in the troupe knows my secret. I’ve got to have some black coffee and two sugars before I can open my mouth and have something remotely kind come out. S’why I’m up before everyone else for breakfast.”

Kenna in her gentleness really wasn’t that temperamental. Geralt knew that, so a muted smile lifting his weathered cheeks. But he still leaned into the tease with devilish intent,

“Note to self: hide all cacao beans from Dandelion’s stash… Then watch and wait for draconic activity to take over the area.”

Kenna gasped with indignation, “You wouldn’t dare. That’s mean.”

“Never said I was nice, Kenna.” Geralt looked back at her with a slight warning. 

“You are nice,” Kenna replied lightly. “Doesn’t matter how much you try and show off otherwise- mean guys don’t have half the heart or moral backbone you do.”

The Witcher slowed a bit when she said this. 

But before Kenna could check back and wonder why he stopped matching her gait, Geralt flashed a look behind them and pulled Kenna by the waist across him towards the inside shoulder of the road–

A cart teetering about recklessly with some hollering sailors blew past the two, trotting haphazardly across the bend of the road. 

Managing her breath from the sudden interruption, Kenna tipped back up to Geralt’s firm focus on the passing cart. The steely-eyed man muttered something of an annoyed curse under his breath. She had to smirk, because this only proved her point. His hand hadn’t left her upper back as he embraced her close- no longer a sudden reflex. 

Kenna dropped her facetious tone. She meant every word of this:

“Mean guys wouldn’t have done that, either.”

Geralt managed to level off his irritation under Kenna’s expectant hazel gaze. He simply smoothed up her back to squeeze her shoulder assuringly, and pocketed his other hand in his long brigandine’s outer vest. 

A simple hum was all he gave in response.

Kenna took advantage of the arrangement and chuckled easily. Reaching back to settle her arm more comfortably along his waistcoat -just higher than a belt would be- Kenna practically snuggled into Geralt’s side, and walked them both onward.

“C'mon, you think I’m alright sometimes…” Kenna pulled the grump along out of his flash of protective anger. Geralt fell into step with her as she led- and left his hand where it was. “-even if I forget my gloves and make you worry.”

“You don’t make me worry.” Geralt shook his head and faced ahead on their walk. “You’re probably the only one here who’s capable of wrangling the cats of Dandelion’s company."

Kenna beamed for the moment…

But in true fashion, the snide remarks soon followed:

"What I pity is your sense of patience," Geralt breezed. "It’s going to give you angina and a premature death if you stay with the bard much longer- knowing the stunts he pulls when he gets too antsy on the road.” 

The visual of the rapscallions mucking about the kitchen like they so often did in the mornings made Kenna laugh bright and easy again. The fact each of them were so lovable in their own way- messy and uncoordinated habits and all- endeared them to her in their predictability, and it was not a hardship. After all, she knew what she was getting into.

“And what would you suggest Dandie does in my stead, huh?” Kenna asked, “Say I left tomorrow: you really think he could keep the books in order, pay his levy and touring taxes to the right officers, get any actual vegetables in his diet, and feed his creative genius for this cabaret plan all on his own? Let alone fund it?”

Geralt’s fingers scratched along Kenna’s shoulder seam lightly.

“Someone needs to fill that job, alright. Just–” Geralt’s eyes fell along her facial features with a subtle regard, “Take the benefactor's hunt alone; that's a big ask. I’d say that for theatre types and bards, alike. Finding patrons to support their efforts and talking up their shows is a full time gig.”

“-That pays as a full time gig,” Kenna assured. “One I didn’t mind taking on from the start. I think it turned out for the best. There were plenty of opportunities for both of us.”

“So you’ve said.”

As a gull flew to its nest along the pier’s awnings above them, Kenna ran through the gameplan in case Geralt hadn’t received the sales pitch from Dandelion already.

“I know it started as a means to run through my old haunts, coming along with Dandelion- with some added company along the way. But when I have the time between destinations, he gets my services as a manager who can make sense of his artist-addled brain cells so he can do what he’s best at.”

Geralt hummed again. “Hm, makes sense. Still sounds like you’re putting most of the work in while he flits around.”

“He can flit around all he wants,”  Kenna waved her bandaged hand a bit for emphasis, “Dandie works the crowd! Men like him aren't that hard to handle. He’s not getting any younger, you know, so his ‘flitting’ days are numbered.” Kenna made a small poke at his expense; “I know you know he thinks he’s not a day over twenty. He acts like quite the party animal- but he’s out like a light after the 8 bell on a regular weeknight.”

Geralt burst out a rough laugh at this. A strong, stroking thumb teased by Kenna’s neck with a little squeeze to her shoulder. 

“Hell, you’re way too nice for your own good, sweet thing.” 

“What? He can entertain himself and ‘schmooze’ the feathered-hat clubs he’s so familiar with… meanwhile, he leaves me to my work that ends up helping us both in the end. Insider's information and some pocket money. Creative package deal, but it works fine for us!”

Geralt hummed, considering her words. Kenna sweetened the deal, 

“He’s really got big plans for this place in Novigrad," Kenna introduced Dandelion's efforts, "Plans to make it a haven for folks of all kinds and trades. Starting off with me, I guess; and we can see where it grows when he gets settled in. And, like you said yourself, I get to see some familiar faces every now and again while I’m on this stretch of the journey there.”

“Hm,” Geralt conceded. “And when you get to Novigrad- what are your plans then? Pretty far aways from White Orchard.”

Kenna followed the lamplights along the river again, "I was never going to stay in White Orchard. I'd been toying with the idea for a northlands circuit anyways for some seasonal resources. I don't really need a home base to care for,"

Kenna looked up to Geralt again, finding him already looking at her. Smile teasing one side of her lips up at his attention, she simply summed up her answer.

"I'm happy enough to see where the wind takes me."

A gust crossed their path just then– brushing some pieces of hair into both eyes and mouth in a funny bluster. 

With a little huff, Geralt chuckled and pulled her hair aside with his nearby hand; its leather crackled and softly fussed against her cheek.

"As long as you don't start eating the wind, that is."

Kenna beamed at the ease Geralt was settled into now. To have a break and let down after such a busy few contracts… Kenna was secretly hoping more and more chances like this would be in their future- arm slack across her shoulders or not. 

“You’ve gotta be craving a bit of quiet yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, flipping the rest of her errant curls back from the wind. “That last trip sounded exhausting.”

Geralt shook his head, “Even if I wanted it, won’t happen anytime soon. On the hunt.”

“Big job?”

A wisp of a pause kept Geralt from likely saying too much.

“...Big undertaking. Bit more personal than others.”

“I see,” Kenna let him keep his secrets, for now. “I’ll leave you to your hero-ing then.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Ehh, you kind of are!”

"I'm not the hero people want.” Geralt softened the firm delivery his voice usually carried, “ I just do the work no one else will."

Kenna held back a chortle.

“What’s that look for.”

"Pretty heroic thing to say, Geralt."

"I mean I'm not--"

 Kenna sighed with familiar patience, "Not what?"

Geralt slowed his pace again, but slipped his hand down Kenna’s back in the process. His eyes trailed along her shoulder down to where he lingered at her side. 

"I'm not what you think I am."

As usual, Kenna tired of Geralt’s self-deprecating tendencies when it came to his talents. 

Talents, she’d decided, because while witchers may have been engineered as hunters and killers by way of disposition and capabilities, she believed the extent of a successful one was determined by choosing to grow that skillset. Credit his School of the Wolf, Geralt claimed as far as Witcher training goes… but in Kenna’s eyes, this did not guarantee that one would have the ideal blend of both instinct and a good moral backbone– Geralt held both of these traits. 

Geralt might see himself as just a Witcher trying to make his way, but Kenna –somehow– thought better of him. There’s power in choice; his just as much as her own. 

"I know what you are, even though I know you won't believe me."

Geralt gave  pause, hearing her out. 

Kenna turned to sidle up to him, towards the riverfront for a change of view, 

"And I also know the reason why you won’t…” she eased his arm back over her shoulder, "-is because you've been treated like ‘less than’ for the longest time. Sure, you've learned to not hold onto the hate, like you say… but you've let another core belief in that you do not deserve:”

Her hip swayed into his, getting his attention, 

“I reckon not letting the bad things get to you has conditioned the opposite- meaning, you'll not accept the good things much, either... But you don't deserve that, Geralt. You deserve to hear the truth, and that truth is that you are nice. You are good, and not by any sort of blessing or curse. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t do it. And I can believe there’s a lot you care about, and more than just money.”

Geralt considered this, and perked again when she continued,

“So whatever hunt you’re on? You’ll sort it out. Maybe you don’t wanna be called a hero for it, but I can try my best to make you feel appreciated, at least. And I'll do whatever it takes to make you believe better for yourself. "

He didn’t look her back in the eye as she did, but he couldn’t hide the smirk  that appeared when he chipped his chin up over the river.

"Sounds like rotten work. Sure you have plenty better things to do." 

"Not your call to make, I'm afraid,” Kenna looked out to the river, too. "Call me invested, Master Witcher. You don't get a say in this one." 

Geralt squeezed her in again, all while not letting her get the chance to see his face.

What she’d trade and harvest and grind away at the mill to be able to make the rough n' ready Witcher smile for once. 

"If you say so."

The smile carried in Geralt’s low voice, so she didn’t need to see.

The owls called out their own morningsong, and Kenna settled back under Geralt’s arm. 

“Nice night.”

“Mhm.”

Geralt

In the moment, she probably thought a pep talk was all he needed.

But Geralt? If Kenna only knew the pang of humanity that resounded in his chest hearing the words leave her mouth: ‘You deserve more.’

All he could remember for years before now was each fleeting interaction he had, which were many. Intimidation, fear and disgust fluttered over the countenance of just about everyone who greeted him. Washes of panic and eerie quiet silenced them every time. 

But her? None of these even crossed her mind, it seemed. Never once did fear fill her eyes when she looked at him. Kenna only ever had a spot saved for him by the fire, food on the table, and someone with a sweet voice to catch-up with after days or weeks spent alone in the Wilds. No, nothing but the finest sort of respect, of kindness, congeniality. Something akin to-

"You coming, Master Witcher?"

A nudge up for Roach to get a move on, Geralt pulled himself from his distraction, too.

"Think that's up to Roach, now."

A lovely flutter of chuckles spring from Kenna's chest, the sound turning into a coo over to Roach. With a bribe of an apple from Kenna’s waist pocket, the brown mare jumped into step from the patch of grass and followed Kenna's lead further into the wooded grove, the Witcher left to trail after them both.

Her call -a sweet, genteel 'come here, pretty girl'- is one he's biting his own tongue from letting loose.

Kenna chances looks at Geralt over her shoulder that he follows, with a lilting smile- her gratitude for his company so she didn't have to walk the rest of the trail alone back to Roggeven Proper. Not for protection or making sure she’s staying away from the poisonous bits- just 'pleasurable company', so she says. Geralt likens her to the spirit of a child scouring the shore for seashells, with her keen eyes fixed on what herbs she can salvage from the woods around them and brew into elixirs; all to his benefit. 

The hunt for Ciri keeps on, with creatures of every foul sort stopping him along the Path with every pull of his attention.. 

And so, her call- infused with care in every word- pulled the horse and Witcher both down the rough, trodden path. And if the sky and sea be damned, Geralt knew very well what to call this;

...if he wasn't careful, he'd be falling in love with her by month's end.

#ASoL:Witcher #masterlist #geralt x oc #geralt x ofc #herbalist oc #my work #my oc #game Geralt is top tier #henry cavill #the witcher fanfiction

[whitewolfandthefox]

The Black Blade Chapter 5

Summary: One of the hardest things to do is to watch someone you love suffer. It’s even worse when that suffering comes at your own hands. The Witchers have a very difficult decision ahead of them, one that will change the course of the Continent. Series Masterlist Words: 3723 Warnings: Suicide, blood, death, injury. All story warnings. A/N. Holy crap, it’s been almost two years since I’ve updated this story. My apologies for disappearing off the face of the earth. My goal of posting slightly more was an epic fail. I finished my Bachelor of Education as well as got a full time job within months of each other, so I didn’t have time to breath, much less think. I hope to be back on a semi regular basis now! As per usual, huge thanks to my beta @thegodsneverwantedme​

The Blood Moon

They call it the Blood Moon. It’s a month filled with heartbreak, death, and grief; brothers hunting sisters through the wilderness. Each time a Witcher returns to Kaer Morhen, he carries two swords with a medallion wrapped around them, a shroud of grief sitting over him. Funeral pyres become a common sight, the initiates tasked with ensuring there is enough wood available for one at a moment's notice. 

Vesemir disappears into his office every time a hunting party returns, often bloodied and injured, occasionally missing a member. Those evenings are even more somber, two passings being mourned. Tonight is one of such evenings, Geralt joining his mentor with two glasses of ale. 

“There was nothing you could have done, Vesemir,” Geralt says softly, trying to break the man out of his reverie. “We didn’t know that this would happen, and we still don’t know where it stems from.” “I know,” Vesemir sighs, sipping his ale. He looks out the window, not seeing the trees that surround the mountain on which Kaer Morhen is built. “I could have stopped this, right at the beginning.”

Geralt sits up in his chair, frowning at Vesemir. “What do you mean?”

“All those years ago, when they first wanted to try the Trials on Leto, they asked me first,” Vesemir starts. “They asked if I thought she would survive them, if I thought she would be strong enough to be a Witcher.”

He pauses, the silence stretching tight across the room. “I said yes.”

“You couldn’t have known, Vesemir,” Geralt protests. “You had no idea things would turn out this way. We all knew she would be fine, we were so proud of her.”

The silver haired Witcher stands and joins his mentor at the window. “Any of us could have said no, we could have stopped the experiments. But we didn’t. This is on all of us, if you want to place blame that far back.”

Vesemir stays silent, the minutes passing slowly. “She was mine though.”

Geralt shifts, the silence stretching as he waits for the older Witcher to speak.

“I should have protected her, I had a duty to protect her,” Vesemir sighs, running a hand over his face. “I should have known better. Especially once she came out different. She had different magic, her eyes were silver; that should have been the first sign things weren’t the same.”

“How were you to have known?” Geralt asks gently. “The magicians didn’t know, and they were the ones doing all of the experiments and the research. And besides, she was Leto, she was your Wolf, everyone wanted her to succeed. She was- is- all of ours.”

“I know, pup,” Vesemir uses the nickname he normally reserves for new, scared initiates. “But I still can’t help but feel responsible for what’s happened.”

The conversation dies off, Geralt having no response for the guilt that Vesemir shoulders, that they all shoulder. He stands in silence, watching out the window with his mentor as they grieve the loss of their sisters, the loss of their friends.

**~*~*~*~**

“Elliya!” Zane cries, trying to get the Witcher’s attention as she attacks a village. Can’t let her kill anymore than she has. Need to draw her away. He and Illja exchange glances, hardening their faces and their hearts as the woman turns to face them, a snarl on her face.

“Have you come to be enlightened?” Elliya asks, staring down at the two Witchers as she ignores the panicked villagers running away behind her. “Have you finally realized your true calling?”

“Elliya, please. This isn’t you,” Zane pleads, watching as Illja circles to the side to try and cut their sister off. “You’re ill, please let us help you.”

The Witchers are loath to kill their sisters, but realize it may be the only option. Still, they have to try to save them, to know that they are truly irredeemable before they are forced to kill one of their own. They flinch as they hear the maniacal laughter burst from their sister, madness flashing in her eyes.

“Help me?” Elliya asks with a sneer. “Help me? You can’t help me. You’re here to kill me, you’re here to kill my sisters. I’ve heard what you have been doing, Witchers.”

Zane’s heart falls at the words, pain lancing through his chest. “We want to help you,” he whispers. “We don’t know how. We can’t let you keep killing the humans, though. They don’t deserve what you’re doing.” “They’re murderers,” Elliya hisses, eyes alight with madness and rage. “They’re killing the earth, killing everything. They need to be eradicated.” “Why?” Zane pleads, trying to get through to his sister. “Why, though? Some are doing that, yes. But think of the others! Just yesterday, I saw a human helping a bird who had a broken wing.” “The minority,” Elliya scoffs. “The majority are killing this earth and everything on it, they need to die in order for everything else to survive.” She shifts her grip on her sword, prowling closer. “You fail to see the light, and for this, you must die.”

“Elliya, please,” Zane tries one more time, slowly lifting his sword as his sister shifts. “You don’t have to do this.

“I have no other choice,” Elliya’s voice goes flat before she launches herself at Zane and the other Witcher with him, going for the kill strike.

Zane dances backwards, hardening his heart for what he has to do next. Every sister who has come back to themself has begged us to kill them. We’re only doing what we must, there’s no way to help them. I wish there was.

The Witcher falls silent as he throws himself into the deadly dance, Illja trading off with him when they need a break. He cries out in pain as Elliya gets through his defences, a shallow cut along his bicep seeping through his sleeve as he takes a step back while Illja tries to get behind their sister.

Elliya falters as she hears Zane’s cry, guilt flashing through her eyes as her bitter lemon and cedar scent softens. “Zane?” she whispers, staring at the Witcher.

“It’s me,” Zane says softly, lowering his sword somewhat as recognition flashes in Elliya’s eyes. “It’s me, it’s your brother. I’m here.” “I- I- I don’t know what’s happening,” Elliya stammers, bringing a hand to her forehead as she screws her face up in pain. “Zane, what’s happening?” “It’s okay,” Zane soothes, slowly approaching his sister, heart aching as he sees pain on her face. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Let me help you, Elliya.”

Elliya stares at Zane, cocking her head as she seems to listen to something no one else can hear. The male Witcher continues to creep closer, keeping up a soothing stream of reassurance. Right as he gets within arms reach Elliya’s expression changes, her face going dead as rage and madness flares in her eyes. “Liar!” she hisses before gasping as Illja drives his sword through her chest from behind. Her golden eyes clear as he lowers her to the ground, Zane coming forward to cup her cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” Zane whispers brokenly, tears trailing down his cheeks as Illja pulls his sword out and holds Elliya in his lap.

“Sleep, sister,” Illja rumbles sadly, arranging her so she’s laying comfortably as he holds her close. “We’ll stay with you. You can rest now.” “Thank you,” Elliya breathes, slowly going limp in her brother’s arms. “Thank you. Tell the others it’s not- it’s not- we don’t want…”

Zane leans forward, listening carefully to his sister’s words before letting out a sob as her eyes go glassy and she lets out a soft sigh. He bends over her as her head falls limp to the side, Illja curling around her body as he cries.

“We had to,” Zane whispers, holding tight to Illja as they mourn their sister. “We had to. She was suffering, she didn’t want to do this. We had to do this, Illja.” Illja nods, gripping Zane’s shoulder as he takes comfort in the fact that they were able to save Elliya, even though it was through death.

**~*~*~**

Ifera sits in a tree, watching as the Witchers prowl through the forest looking for her. Amateurs. She shakes her head as they bumble around, making all sorts of noise. How did they ever think they were going to catch me, much less a monster, if everyone can hear them coming from miles away?

She jumps down from her perch on the branch, listening to the soft whispers in her mind. I can see now, it’s all become so clear. The humans are a plague, they’re destroying our world. They hunt and kill and destroy, they need to be eradicated. Ifera prowls after the Witchers on silent feet, pulling her swords out as she follows. She follows them into a darker part, listening to the soft, sweet voice that whispers to her.

“Witchers,” she calls sweetly, nearly laughing as they spin to face her while their hands jump to their weapons. “Oh, you poor darlings. Did I sneak up on you and scare you?” “Ifera,” the dark haired Witcher calls to her, a pleading tone in his voice. “Please, let us help-”

Ifera cuts him off with a sharp gesture, shaking her head. “Don’t even start,” she growls softly. “I’ve heard what you’ve all been doing to our sisters. Hunting us down like cattle, killing us one by one. You’re not here to help, you’re here to kill me. Don’t try to pretend.” “It’s not like that,” the other Witcher pleads, blonde hair reflecting the sunlight. “We’re your family, Ifera, we don’t want to do this. But you can’t keep on like this.” “And why not?” Ifera prowls forward, letting her sword drag on the ground. “The humans are killing everything else. You’ve seen how the world has changed since they’ve grown so far.” Kill them all, take them out. Let us run free, where we don’t have to hide. There’s nothing good left in the humans, they destroy everything they touch.

The blonde Witcher falters, clearly at a loss for words from her question. “Ifana-” he starts, but she cuts him off as she leaps at him, sword raised. “Fuck off,” Ifera growls, sword bouncing off the Witcher’s as she pursues him. “You don’t understand, you’ll never understand. I have to do this.” “Why?” The dark haired Witcher demands, darting in to catch her sword when the blonde Witcher trips. She growls in frustration, just wanting to ignore the questions.

“Because,” Ifera cries, swiping randomly at the Witcher, Andrezj, her mind suddenly supplies, to try and get rid of his questions. She falters slightly as the name appears, taking a moment to recover. The whispers increase in intensity, sudden guilt warring with the chaotic rage that's a constant in her chest and she shakes herself, trying to rid the emotions.

Andrezj takes advantage of her momentary distraction, darting forward and landing a blow on her shoulder. Ifera lets out a yell of pain, the scent of copper filling the air as she leaps backwards and lets out a growl.

“You’ll pay for that,” she resumes her circling, switching hands on her sword as pain runs down her arm. “You won’t leave this place alive.” Andrezj and the blonde Witcher exchange glances but stay silent, Ifera letting out a growl of frustration at that. She jumps forwards, throwing herself back into the battle and stepping forward and stabbing at the blonde one's stomach. Her sword is knocked away before Andrezj steps in and she finds herself on the defensive, frustration continuing to grow. She can feel the blood dripping down her arm, the scent of copper mixing with the fear scent of rust in the air. She growls happily at the scent before startling as her heart rate increases, realizing the fear is coming from her. What?

Ifera’s eyes widen at the realization and she stumbles again, fatigue and pain dragging at her limbs. No, I won’t submit. They’re wrong, I’ve seen the light. Humans are a plague. Aren’t they? She gets lost in her thoughts again, the tip of her sword slowly drifting towards the ground. This is the right thing to do. It is. Memories of laughing and playing with her brothers, with Andrezj, suddenly burst into her mind from a long forgotten place, and she raises her eyes to see Andrezj and Viktor in front of her.

“Help,” the whisper falls from her lips, Ifera feeling her legs go out from under her. She doesn’t register the pain that jolts up her legs as she hits the ground, hands flying to her forehead as the whispers war with the memories flooding her mind. “It’s okay, Ifera, we’re both here,” she feels Viktor’s arms go around her, supporting her as she fights with herself. She leans heavily into him, his bright cedar and cinnamon scent filling her nose. My brothers. My brothers are here. They can help me. Oh gods, what have I done? I’m supposed to protect, not kill.

Ifera lets out a sob, looking up at Viktor with terrified eyes as the scent of her fear increases in strength. She clings to him weakly with one hand, feeling Andrezj bracket her other side as his ginger and cedar scent fills her nose.

“Please, kill me,” Ifera begs, feeling Viktor shush her and slowly rock her as he rumbles soothingly. “No, please, you don’t understand. I can’t fight it.” She feels the soothing rumble turn to one of concern, burnt caramel worry mixing with her brothers’ scents. “You can’t fight what, Ifera?”

“The voices, the presence, please,” Ifera can feel herself start to slip, the familiar feeling of darkness taking over. She writhes in Viktor’s arms, clinging to him before ripping herself out of his arms.

Andrezj lets out a startled shout as he’s knocked backwards, surprise turning to concern as Ifera grabs for her sword. She turns her gaze on them, a mixture of apology and madness flitting behind her eyes. She stands with her blade in hand, emotions draining away as she watches her brothers scramble for their swords.

“I’m sorry,” Ifera whispers as she raises her sword before turning the blade on herself, pain blooming as she opens her throat. She feels her knees go out again, the pain quickly turning to cold as she collapses to the ground. She doesn’t hit though, Andrezj catching her and pulling her into his arms as tears slide down his cheeks.

It’s okay. She tries to smile at him, raising a shaky hand to her brothers’ cheeks. She doesn’t notice the bloody fingerprints she leaves on their skin, eyes starting to fall shut as she grows tired. I did it for you. I did it to keep everyone safe. I’m so tired. I’m safe now, I don’t have to listen anymore. I won.

The last thing Ifera feels is a sense of satisfaction as the world starts to grow dark, her brothers’ scents in her nose. A warmth cradles her as she starts to go limp, listening to the soft cries from her Witchers before she feels no more.

**~*~*~**

Issori, Jaka, Iona, Charenthi, Fissa. Alek crosses the names off with a heavy heart, marking each funeral pyre that burns. “There’s so many names,” he whispers, staring at the list. “Too many,” Kamil agrees softly, closing his eyes from where he sits in his chair. “How many are left?” “Not many,” Alek replies, glancing at where Vesemir stands with his back to them, having stood motionless at the window since the council members gathered. “All of the parties are out, they should be back soon. We’ll burn our last pyres within the month, hopefully.” “We still don’t know what’s causing this?” Natan asks, looking around the room at the other senior Witchers. “No,” Kamil shakes his head, sighing softly. “Tissai and I have been over everything we can think of, all we know is that it’s connected to something with their magic. They embody the chaos, rather than harness it. Something happens when they do that, but no one else has used magic the way they do, so we can’t know for sure what is happening.”

“It will be over soon,” Alek nods, running a hand through his hair. “And we won’t put any more girls through the trials.” “We never should have in the first place,” Vesemir’s voice is low when he speaks, the Witcher not turning from the window. “I never should have let this happen.” “Vesemir, you couldn’t have known,” Natan says immediately, shaking his head. “We had no idea they would be any different than us, that this would happen.” “I should have seen it with Leto, when she changed,” Vesemir finally turns away from the window, looking at the other Witchers with pained eyes. “I raised her, I knew her. I knew she was different after the trials, after she learned her powers, and I didn’t intervene.” I never should have let her go through the Trials in the first place. Gods, what was I thinking? Our sisters’ deaths are all on my hands.

“She was following the Path, everyone changes,” Natan says gently. “You’ve seen what Witchers look like when they come back from their first few years, everyone changes regardless of male or female.”

“I knew her though,” Vesemir whispers. “I raised her, she was mine. I knew her better than anyone else, I should have known that something was wrong, more so than just being on the Path.” “No one could have known,” Alek says softly, not sure what else to say to help the guilt that is clear in Vesemir’s frame. “You couldn’t have known.” “It’s too late now,” Vesemir murmurs wearily, turning back to the window. “She’ll face the same fate as her sisters.” “You don’t have to be the one to go,” Natan says, reopening the weeks old debate. “She’s your daughter, Vesemir, you don’t have to do this. One of us will go.” “I trained her myself, it has to be me,” Vesemir shakes his head. “She won’t let anyone else close enough, I taught her too well.”

“At least let someone go with you,” Natan pushes. “Take Geralt, take someone. Don’t go alone.”

“Alright,” Vesemir gives in, knowing that he’ll be followed regardless of his decision. “I’ll take Geralt with me, but no one else. She won’t trust us if there’s others with us.” “Thank you,” Natan says softly, making a note to go speak with Geralt. “It’s better with two. Just in case.” We’ve lost too many already. We need our Chief to lead us through this. “I know,” Vesemir nods, settling his hands at his back as he watches the initiates train below. “I know.” The council takes the dismissal for what it is, slowly filing out of the room. Natan pauses for just a moment, glancing at Vesemir before going to find Geralt. He needs to go. Leto was Vesemir’s pride, it’s going to destroy him to have to kill her.

Natan finds the silver haired Witcher out on the ramparts, where he would often go as an initiate. “Vesemir is going to bring you with him,” he says softly, coming to lean his elbows on the stone as he stands next to the younger Witcher.

“I thought he would take me,” Geralt nods, continuing to look out over the Trail. “He won’t take anyone else.” “He wanted to go by himself initially,” Natan replies softly. “I don’t think he’ll come back if he does.” “He won’t,” Geralt shakes his head. “I’ll bring him back, keep an eye on him.” Natan nods at that, sighing under his breath. “I wish he’d let someone else go.” “Not with her,” Geralt murmurs. “He considers this whole thing his fault, our sisters. Leto was the first.” Still remember when she went through her Trials. We were so proud of our little sister. We all should have said something.

“I know,” Natan says, glancing at Geralt. “It’s not your fault either. No one could have known.” “No, but we’re the ones who didn’t see it sooner,” Geralt looks back at the strategic master, gaze serious. “This is on all of us.” “It is,” Natan nods in agreement, before looking back out at the surrounding area. “You make sure you come back as well. We all know you were close with Leto, almost as much as Vesemir.” Geralt smiles grimly at that, looking down at his scarred hands. “She was my little sister, before she was all of ours,” he murmurs, eyes glazing over with memories. “I remember when Vesemir came home with her, she was just a wee little thing.”

“She was,” Natan agrees softly. “She was little, but fierce. Drove us all up the wall, keeping her out of trouble.” “She got into the weapons room and sent everyone into a panic,” Geralt laughs sadly. “We always knew she would be good at this. She was one of the best.”

“Still is,” Natan murmurs. “Be careful, Geralt, okay. Make sure you both come home.” We can’t afford to lose anyone else.

“I will,” Geralt turns a sober gaze on Natan. “I’ll make sure he gets home.” He won’t be the one to kill her, if I can help it. That would destroy him, having to kill his daughter.

“I trust you,” Natan nods, offering the silver haired Witcher a warrior’s handshake before turning and leaving him in peace before he has to leave.

**~*~*~**

Geralt lashes the last few of his bags onto Roach’s saddle, sighing softly as he goes through his list one more time. He waits patiently for Vesemir, glancing at the gathered Witchers around him. Know they all want to come with us, to not have Vesemir have to do this. Vesemir slowly makes his way out of Kaer Morhen, looking straight ahead as he takes his reins from Geralt.

“Everything is packed?” he asks gruffly, mounting his horse.

“Yes, Chief,” Geralt nods, mounting Roach alongside his mentor. “We can go.” “Good,” Vesemir nods, urging his mount towards the gates and down the Path. I’m coming, Leto. I’m sorry, my Wolf. This is all my fault. He focuses on the journey ahead of him, staying silent as Geralt rides at his side in search of his daughter.

**~*~*~**

Witcher Tag List

@riviawitch3r​ / @scarlettwitcher​ / @ayamenimthiriel​ / @uncoolcloudyhead​ / @secretsthathauntus​ / @vintage-mind-young-body​ / @creamysacrilege / @hina-chans-stuff / @bastardfruitsandbasil​ / @shewritesinthethirdperson​ / @widowvinter​ / @unnamedmaincharacter​​ / @thenocturnalsyren​​ / @loudlycolorfulkryptonite​ / @whatawildone​ / @geraltmrwitcher / @psychosupernatural​ / @chickennooget69​ / @just-antiyou​ / @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot / @onlyhenrys​ / @l-km07​ / @iloveyouyen / @itsemmyb​ / @persephonehemingway​ / @summerartist4life​ / @thedragonsbirthgiver​ / @blackrockshooter780​ / @lamnothome​ / @jade10077​ / @dreaming-about-starfleet / @ginreagann17 / @xmother-mortemx​  / @logan-loves-bullfrogs​ / @sageandberries-png​ / @morelikebyesexual​ / @maan24​ / @winchesterandpie​ / @my-secret-life-1​ / @abbie-hp13​ / @why-is-it-always-raining​ / @poisonous-widow​ / @vanxbi / @luvmeijii​ / @elsasshole​ / @fandomfanatic97​ / @peyton-keating​ / @introvertedmouse​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @faewihngs​ / @ashleyl30​ / @oce4ndepths / @heavenlysnowflake​ / @itsbebachan​ / @ab-haya​ / @alwayshave-faith​ / @witty-wallflower​ / @dogslednation / @randomasgardian21​/ @disasteren / @theawkwardpedestrian / @nellaphine​ / @snapessecretdiary​ @circesgirl10​ @kmuir1​ @melemel1 @MHAJinx175 @thatbeautifulreward​ @victoriabauer619 @lightwoodandywifey @a-lil-bit-nuts​ @massivewitchfire @fictionalhooman @black-rose-29​

The Black Blade Tag list: 

@raspberrydreamclouds / @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​  / @wastingmypotential​  / @sweetandspiky​ / @queenxxxsupreme​

#the witcher #naowrites #the black blade #geralt #eskel #lambert #vesemir #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #netflix the witcher #eskel x ofc #lambert x ofc #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia x ofc #vesemir x ofc #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfiction #eskel fanfiction #lamber fanfiction #geralt of rivia fanfiction

[spielzeugkaiser]

Been feeling the 'Jaskier upset with Geralt' angst train lately if this prompt interests you

I read the word 'angst' and instantly went on board- honestly Jaskier deserves to be angry with Geralt. What always makes me go *chef's kiss* in those scenarios is that Jaskier is upset, but he doesn't want Geralt to be hurt! He always looks out for him 🥺🥺 I made Jaskier and angry-crier, because I haven't tormented my man enough. Also Jaskier being able to actually show how upset he is and Geralts self worth issues of 'distancing himself when he thinks he isn't wanted' FIGHT-

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #me sitting back here and thinking about scenarios with them actually having a row #I can see it being not easy to navigate because I see Geralt being very very bad at those if he doesn't have the security #that the other one will come back / that he is wanted? #it's me thinking back to the book scene with yen and istredd again and ofc his mum #listen their relationship (if you take it as friendship or more) has always the potential for bone deep devotion but also for being SO messy #that's what I'm here forrrrr #will Jaskier defend Geralt? alwaysalwaysalways #will geralt sit with his bare ass on a nest of scorpions for Jaskier? doesn't even have to think about for a sec #do they have healthy communication skills? HELL NO #but do they better with each other than anyone else because they do have a profound understanding of each other? hell yeah!! #look at me after all that time #still invested 😔

[pickleforstony]

Baby, it's cold outside.

#geraskier #Headcanon: Geralt loves being called 'baby' but he tries his best to conceal it #Jaskier knows it ofc #the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher fanart

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Tonality [3]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: more creepy dream fuel, Geralt being slimy and having ulterior motives, and a little more tension with reader and her mother. all in all, i think you guys will enjoy this latest addition. as always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics​

The doe’s coat is as yellow as spun gold, and she blinks at you nervously as you approach. You cannot hide your childish squeal of delight, though it vexes her further. She nickers, shifting from hoof to hoof as she blinks at you with wide eyes. 

 “Papa, is she really mine?” You ask, your quiet voice heavy with awe. “She’s beautiful.” You hold out a hand, and her nostrils flare at your scent. Her long ears flick back, laying flat against her head behind her horns. They’re small—she’s young, barely a year old, perhaps less—and still covered with soft, velvety baby fur that you know will shed as she ages. 

 “Careful,” your father’s voice is ripe with caution. “She is new. Young, still, and a bit unwieldy.” You cluck your tongue at her, producing the sugar cubes you’d stolen from your mother’s tea tray from the sleeves of your dress. “I said careful—!” The doe leans forward, pressing her muzzle into your outstretched hand. You raise an eyebrow at your father, who shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh puffing out from between his lips. You stroke her head, running your fingers gently between her antlers and softly flicking ears. 

 “She about took Gaspard’s hand off this morning, she was so wild,” he says, shaking his head. “And yet she eats from your own as if you had weaned her yourself.” 

 “Did Gaspard try sugar?” You ask, giggling as her lips tickle your palm. “Perhaps she mightn’t have tried to amputate his fingers had he kept some of his salt to himself.” The wind shifts, and beneath the doe’s thick animal scent, there is something else.

 Something like sulphur and rotting meat.

 Your hand passes down the doe’s head, and her skin sloughs off beneath your fingers, leaving shiny, white bone behind. You gag, clapping a bloody hand over your mouth as fat flies buzz lazily out of her empty eye sockets. Wrong. This is wrong, it doesn’t happen like this—

 How does it go, again?

 Your father gifts you the doe, the golden doe, you are eighteen, you are a woman now, you will ride with him on the hunt, you will—

 “Su—gar swe—et,” Your father’s voice is the buzzing of a thousand glistening black flies, his tongue is made from them, wriggling in his wide open mouth. His eyes are children’s scribbles, black and writhing, and tears like ink drip from their corners. “It tasted like sugar—”

 It is then that you remember your father is dead.

 He is dead. He is dead here, because he is dead everywhere, dead and rotting and gone but not gone and you mustn’t listen, you mustn’t—

 You wake with a sharp gasp. 

 “—Princess?” The words dissolve into a static, meaningless drone as you are thrust suddenly back into consciousness. For a moment, the dream is still overlaid over the waking world like runny watercolor as you blink groggily in the dark. Beneath your trembling fingers, you can still feel the doe’s soft, golden coat—and the sharp, polished bone of her skull. With a sweaty palm against the wall, you retch, doubling over as you heave. 

 Nothing comes up. 

 The air around you is stale, stagnant, and the taste of dust and decay blankets your tongue as you swallow down lungful after panicked lungful. One thing is abysmally clear to you as you dizzily rest a hand on the cold stone to keep yourself upright—

 You are not in your rooms. 

 Where am I?

 “Princess.” The voice sounds again, and your head snaps about wildly, your eyes wide as you stare into the dark. The dream is still there, sticking the fringes of your waking thoughts like tar, and for a moment there are two voices, one made of dark black honey, sickly sweet, and the other the insectile buzz of a thousand glassy wings all beating in unison—

 “Wh-who goes there?” You ask, dragging the back of your hand across your quivering mouth. There is a sound like the sharp rushing of air, and all at once the room is lit with warm yellow light. You suppress a scream as your father’s withered, sunken face appears before you, his eyes like children’s scribble—you shut your eyes, closing them tightly as you whimper. 

 “A dream, this is a dream, a dream—” A cool, bare hand wraps about your wrist and you scream, pulling and fighting as fiercely as you can manage. “No! No! You’re dead—!” You cry, hysterical tears creeping out of the corners of your closed eyes. 

 “I regret to inform you, little sister, that I am very much alive.” It is not your father’s voice—not the dead—but your step-brother’s. “Despite your best attempts to dispatch me.” Slowly, you open your eyes, sniffling as you meet his gaze. He nods up at your balled fists, still trembling in his grip. You can feel the heat of him through his own loose night-shirt and your thin cotton shift, and your skin prickles as he licks his lips. 

 “Release me.” You say it with more confidence than you feel. For a moment, you feel your step-brother drag his thumb across your pulse point and cock his head, as though he is considering it. 

 “Will you strike me again, little princess?” He asks, a mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You scowl. “I did not plan for a midnight brawl.” You shake your head, your cheeks flaming. Geralt stares at you for a moment, like his golden eyes see something yours do not. As you prepare to make the demand again, he frees your wrists. You clutch your hands to your chest, eyeing him warily. The torch he has lit casts the long room in dim orange light, the flames dancing in his irises, turning them molten. It is the firelight, you think, that makes him look so menacing, so…

 Hungry. 

 You shiver, turning your gaze instead to your surroundings, squinting at the long stone hall in the flickering light. The cool, stagnant air is disturbed only by the sound of your quiet breath, which catches in your throat as your eyes widen.

 “Where…are we?” You ask, though you fear you know the answer already. 

 The walls are lines with alcoves bearing countless candles, stuck into the melted pools of wax left by their predecessors rather than into proper candelabras. And in neat rows in front of them… 

 Graves. Made of the same gray stone as the castle. Highly polished and clean, they are each adorned with ornate carvings of their occupants. You stare grimly at the rows and rows of polished stone, and wonder at how you might have possibly found your way here through the dark labyrinth of the castle. You think again of the dream, and gooseflesh rises again on your skin. 

 ”Did you bring me here?” You round on the prince, your brow furrowed. He chuckles in response, and the sound of it grates against you. 

 “Me? I merely followed you. In truth I had wondered why you would visit the catacombs at this hour. I thought perhaps,” his eyes narrow as a crude grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “A secret paramour, or—”

 “Do not confuse me with yourself!” You snap, wrapping your arms around your body as you shiver. The prince clucks his tongue at your ire.

 “Come now, don’t be cross, little sister,” Geralt purrs. “It wouldn’t have been proper to leave you wandering the hallways in your state of undress, muttering to yourself like a madwoman.” Your cheeks warm at his crude words, and you feel angry, embarrassed tears flush hotly into the space behind your eyes. You blink them back. 

 “I… have not walked in my sleep since I was a child,” you admit, looking down at the space between your bare feet. Geralt hums in response. Old Madge, in her half-blind wisdom had always muttered fearfully to your father about your nightly escapades. 

 A soul shouldn’t walk about at night, she would say, her thin, knobby fingers twisting strands of honeysuckle and dried lavender together into a long chain, one she would wind around your bed’s posts every night for a year until finally you stayed in it. A soul shouldn’t walk about at night. What’s it lookin’ for?

 “I fear I…” You shake your head, swallowing your concerns—they are not for him to hear.  “No matter.” For an instant, a look of disappointment crosses his face before it is gone again, leaving you to wonder if you had even seen it at all. “Thank you.” Your reluctance is palpable. “For waking me.” 

 “You’ve no need to thank me. Not yet.” His eyes glitter darkly. You swallow thickly, and they follow the movement, sweeping almost lazily down the line of your throat. “Let us go.” They flick back up to yours. “Unless you wish to spend the night here?” He gestures behind you, and you shiver again, shaking your head quickly. 

 “Please.” 

 You are grateful to leave the eerie silence of the royal catacombs behind you, following as closely as you dare behind the prince. His torch throws up strange shapes on the walls of the narrow, spiraling stairwell. You can feel the dream sitting at the edges of your thoughts, waiting eagerly to settle back over you like fog. You were not predisposed to bad dreams, and yet they seemed to be the only ones you have had since you arrived. You have been beset with dark thoughts, nipping at your heels like hungry dogs, no—

 Wolves. 

 The two of you emerge from the narrow stairwell into the empty chapel, and the vast hall echoes with your entry. The sconces are dark, and the robed, painted priests nowhere to be seen. The chapel is far less intimidating at night, the sharp features of the northern gods softened by shadow. Cold moonlight filters down softly through the domed ceiling, the colors pale and muted. For a moment, the perfectly round moon is framed perfectly by the pane of red glass containing Father Wolf, shining bright crimson above his head as you pass beneath it. 

 The choking scent of the incense is gone now, and only a trace of it remains in the still air. It is overpowered by a thick, musky animal scent that reminds you of wet fur. As the two of you cross the center of the room, Geralt hooks left, towards the wide, dark archway on the other side of the room. It gapes open like a toothless mouth, the stone floor sloping downward steeply into the dark. 

 You stop at the top of it, the warm air stirring the loose hair about your shoulders. Geralt turns to look back at you, raising a brow and cocking his head p as he lifts  the torch higher. There is a question in the tilt of his head, unspoken on the curve of his lips.

 Are you afraid?

 You are. The dank, pungent animal scent washes over you again, and you shudder. It reminds you of your father’s hunting dogs.

 “Come, little Doe.” His voice feels like cold fingers drawn across the back of your neck. “You need not fear the kennels this night.” 

 “I am not afraid.” You jut your chin out stubbornly, even as gooseflesh erupts along your arms. 

 “Good,” he purrs, licking his lips. “They can smell it.” Geralt descends down into the dark maw, and you reluctantly follow. Like most, you are no stranger to the rumors that leak steadily from King Vesemir’s halls; fantastical tales of furred beasts whose jaws were wide enough to swallow a horse whole. You clutch yourself, inching closer to the prince as the sloped path straightens out, opening into a massive cavern. 

 Geralt’s torch is little more than a pinprick of light in in the vast, unyielding dark. The warm glow only manages to dimly outline the shapes of natural stone pillars, throwing up misshapen shadows. There are still more passageways, little more than tunnels, littering the walls like pockmarks. For a moment, the light of Geralt’s torch throws a long arm across the chamber. 

 Reflected in it’s light are two, glowing orbs. Eyes, the size of dinner plates, their color impossible to describe. It was as if the eyes themselves were ablaze, glowing brightly, breaking the darkness. Over the rush of your own labored breath, you can make out the quiet scratch of claws on stone. It’s coming closer. The thought tightens your throat.

 You are powerless, paralyzed before it like prey. Are you prey? You suppress a whimper. There is warmth at your back, and you realize belatedly that it is  Geralt, so close his breath brushes the back of your neck. 

 “No fear, little princess. No fear.” 

 In less than an instant, the creature stands just beyond the ring of light cast by the prince’s torch. Faintly, you can make out the hulking shape of it; larger by far than any horse. Shaggy white fur, stained a rusty red around its muzzle, it’s ears pricked up and forward as it listens to the sound of your breath.

 “Hold out your hand.” You do, lifting a trembling palm in front of you as if to stop the wolf from coming any closer. The wolf’s lip curls, exposing the wickedly sharp tip of a fang. It sniffs at your hand, and for a moment, you fear you will draw back nothing but a bloody stump. Your shock is palpable when it presses the tip of its snout against your hand, whiskers tickling your palm. 

 “Incredible.” The word escapes with the release of your held breath. You stroke the warm, bristly hair on its muzzle slowly, your eyes still wide with disbelief. The dire-wolf snorts, claws tapping against the stone as it turns from you. As quickly as the wolf appeared, it is gone again, disappearing back into the dark. You remain as you were for a moment more, your arm still outstretched as you watch its retreating back with terrified wonder. 

 “Yrsil.” Geralt’s voice drags you back to the present, and suddenly you are aware of how close he is to you, the way his warm breath ghosts against the shell of your ear.  “The she-wolf. Her name is Yrsil.” You jump away from him, smoothing your hands down your shift as you eye him warily. 

 “Why did you bring me here?” The accusatory note in your voice appears to amuse him, further stoking your ire. “To frighten me?” 

 “If I wanted you fearful, I would not have needed the kennels to do it.” You clench your fists, glaring hatefully at him as he resumes his casual pace across the cavern floor. “Come, now. This is the quickest way back to the eastern wing of the castle. I would not lie to you.” You glare at him, your eyes narrowed.

 “Would you not?” You reply dryly. 

 “I am many things, Princess.” Geralt’s voice drips into your ears like snake oil. “But liar is not one I am eager to add to the list.” 

 True to his word, the two of you emerge from the kennel entrance in the throne room, the hot musk of below sticking uncomfortably to your skin and hair. You half expect the prince to take his leave, now that you are back in familiar territory, but he doesn’t. He keeps pace with you all the way back to your chambers. The heavy door is still slightly ajar, no doubt from your midnight venture. The prince places the lit torch in one of the empty wall sconces before leaning expectantly against the wall, his body partially blocking the doorway. 

 “Excuse me.” 

 He slowly tilts his head, fixing you with a questioning look. “I do believe there is something you are forgetting, my Lady.” He parrots Kassandra’s tone with irritating accuracy. “I know Redania keeps to the old customs as well as they can, however here in Rivia we do require a certain level of decorum.”

 You clench your fists in your nightgown. “What do you want, Geralt?” You ask, exasperated.

 “A kiss should suffice, little Doe.” He purrs. His golden eyes burn the same way they did in the gardens the night of your mother’s coronation. You shake your head in disbelief as you stare at him, your lips parted. 

 “Y-you cannot ask this of me!” Your repudiation is a shrill squeak. “T-tis  indecent, w-we cannot—!” You shake your head again. “The king will not allow—”

 “I think you will find, little sister,” he reaches forward to trace the pad of his forefinger along your jaw-line, “that it matters not what the king will allow if he is not present. Do you see him?”He pushes your head to the side, forcing you to look down the hallway. “I don’t.” This is the closest Geralt has ever been to you, practically pressing you against the wall, caging you in with his massive arms. You understand now, the message relayed beneath his words—you are in no position to negotiate. 

 “You are my brother!” You plead, but he is unmoved. 

 “In name only.” He leans down, twining a lock of hair between his fingers, tugging it gently. “My father’s sham of a marriage has remarkably little to do with me.” You press yourself against the stone as he leans closer. “Come now, little Doe. Let us speak truth.” He tugs gently at the satin ribbon at the neck of your shift and it falls open. 

 “What you saw in the gardens intrigued you,” Geralt traces a path from your chin to your collarbone, his fingers feather-light, “did it not?”

 “No!” His open amusement at your conviction is like cold water down your back. 

 “I saw, Sweetling,” he says lowly. “The look on your face—”

 “Fine!” You shrill, tearing yourself away from him. It is not true, it cannot be—and yet, your blood rushes through your veins, a thin tendril of that same shameful longing uncurling in your belly. The dark curiosity that had driven you to peer around the hedge all those nights ago surges with sinful familiarity, even as you try to stamp it out.

 You lean forward with a grimace, rolling onto the tips of your toes. The prince cups your chin, smoothing a finger along your lower lip. He is unprepared for you to turn your head sharply, your lips brushing against his stubbled cheek. It is only the quickness of your movement and Prince Geralt’s own surprise that allows your malicious compliance, and you dart away, ducking under his arm and through the slim gap in the door. 

 He snarls, reaching for you, but you slam the it shut, sliding the bolt into place with speed that surprises you. Your heart hammers against your chest as for a brief moment, there is silence on the other side of the door. 

 “Aren’t you clever,” he sneers, his voice muffled through the wood.  He tries the handle before letting out a muted curse. “Open the door.” Your silence earns you a dark growl. “Open it!”

  You jump back from the door, muffling the sound of your scream with the palms of your hands as Geralt throws himself against it. It shudders in its frame, and for a terrifying moment you fear it will burst open, revealing the enraged prince on the other side—but it does not.

 “Open it!” You shrink against the wall as he seethes, his threats echoing in your ears. The sturdy wood holds against his assault, and when he finally stops, you can hear the sound of his labored breathing on the other side. That too, gradually fades into silence, and cautiously, you approach the door. Somehow, though you cannot see him, you know he remains there, waiting. 

 “You will regret this night.” There is grim promise in his words. “Little sister.” The sound of Geralt’s retreating footsteps makes your shoulders sag with relief, and you collapse against the wall, your breath labored. Though you doubt he is still there, waiting to ambush you in the hall, you do not dare open the door again until morning—

 Just in case. 

 —

 “It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Your mother flutters her fan daintily as she basks in the warm end-of-summer sun. To her right, Lady Amelia, red-faced and sweating beneath her pale face paint, forces a smile through her obvious discomfort.

 “Oh yes, Highness.” She blinks as a cloudy bead of sweat slides down into her eye. “Lovely.”

 You know the noblewomen fawning over your mother would much rather be inside, sheltered from the hot sun by the cold stone of the castle. It was where you would have been, if not for the summons from your mother. You had spent the majority of the past week or so in your chambers, reluctantly leaving them only when strictly necessary in your attempts to avoid the prince.

 The Prince.

 At the thought of him, you cast a wary glance at your surroundings, looking for the telltale gleam of his golden eyes, or the shock of his snow white hair. Thankfully, you find neither. Crossing the patch of soft, green grass toward your mother, you perch impatiently on the end of the carved stone bench as you wait for her to notice you. You make idle conversation with her ladies as you wait, twisting your fingers nervously in the fabric of your skirts while you try to parse out your request.

 I want to go home. 

 “Ah, daughter,” she greets you, and you drop your head respectfully as she addresses you. “Come to enjoy the weather?” She gestures around her at the blooming garden. “I daresay we shall miss it soon enough.”  She stretches, the jewels adorning her fingers and throat shining brilliantly in the sun.

 “It is lovely,” you say, nodding agreeably. “It does remind me of home.” You curse yourself as the word slips from your lips. Instantly, your eyes fly to your mother’s face, watching for the displeasure you know you will see written in the stiffness of her smile or the narrowed slant of her eyes. 

 “Of Redania, you mean.” The soft curve of her lips belie the dagger sharp edges of her words. The smile you force in return is weak, trembling at the edges of your mouth. 

 “Y-yes. That is… what I meant to say.” You do not miss the way her ladies lean in amongst themselves, whispering. “D-did you wish to speak with me?” Though the day is unseasonably warm, and you yourself are surrounded by people, you feel small and cold and alone. Adrift. 

 “Must a mother need a reason to see her child?” She asks, rising gracefully from her seat. One of the servants rushes over with a parasol, but she waves him away, shaking her head. “If a reason must be given, I suppose mine might be that I have missed you.”  She loops her arm through one of yours securely, steering you off the patch of cool grass and back onto the garden path proper.  The whispers of her ladies follow behind you, biting at your heels they fade. 

 “I am your mother, and yet I cannot recall when last we broke bread together.” 

 “I have found myself quite exhausted, of late,” You mumble the half truth. “I fear the journey weighs heavily upon me still.” You suppress a shudder as you remember the dream, your father’s rotting face bloated with fat maggots—“I have not slept well.” 

 “Late night escapades do tend to be quite exhausting.” Her lips curve into a cold, knowing smile, and your belly fills with hot lead. Shame turns the blood in your veins to ice as your mother inspects her sleeve. A terrible fury rages beneath the placid surface of her pleasantries, and you cower in the face of it. 

 “M-mother, I—” The words will not come, leaving you floundering as your mouth opens and closes in silence. “H-he—”

 “Did you think I would not see it?” She spits. Disgust drips from the words.    “Would not notice his...” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as her mouth twists with displeasure. “Interest.” You swallow against the lump in your throat, knowing it matters not but still wondering who might have seen, who might have witnessed Prince Geralt raging at your door. 

 “Mother, I-I swear to you, I have done nothing—! H-he, I—I walked in my sleep, a-and he found me, I—nothing happened!” You hate the look on her face, like your pleas of innocence have only confirmed your guilt. “Nothing—”

 “Nothing?” Her lip curls. “You must know these games you play, all they have done is pique his interest.” She speaks as though somehow, you should have known better. “Men are stupid, willful creatures, desirous of what they cannot have.” She clucks her tongue at you. “Your father coddled you far too long—you are a woman grown! It is long past time you act like it!” 

 “Father would believe me!” You sob. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks.   “I am innocent!” Your mother stares at you coldly, before reaching forward to cup your chin. 

 “It is not your innocence I question.” Your mother’s voice is deceptively soft.   “It is your sense.” You blink at her through your tears, trembling. “My sweet, naive girl.” She wipes roughly at your tears with the pad of her thumb. The cold distance in her eyes splits you cleanly down the middle like a sharp blade. There is part of you that wants to fawn, to deliver honeyed words on a platter until her love shines down on you again like the sun—

 And part that wants nothing more than to flee. You want to ask—no, beg—for her to send you home, to return you to the walls you knew better than the lines on your own palms. Your mother embraces you, her lips brushing your cheek even as your own work silently. The words won’t come, like they are stuck in your throat. 

 “There should be only honesty between us.” Your mother says. “Understand?”

 I want to go home.

 Send me home.

 Please.

 “Yes.” You hang your head in defeat, the words retreating from your tongue.  

 “Good.” She chirps as she leans away. She is herself again, smiling affectionately as she brushes imaginary dirt from your dress, tucking loose strands of hair back into your fraying braid. “And you’ll tidy up for supper, won’t you? We have missed you at the table these past nights.” You clasp your hands together so tightly that your palms sting as you force a smile.

 “Of course.” 

 For a moment, just a moment, the warm breeze carries with it the smell of rot and earth, and you remember the doe, your father’s gift dead and bloated in the patch of hexweed in the woods. 

 It smells like sugarcane, but it isn’t, your father had taught you young. It smells sweet, but it’s not, understand? 

 Perhaps, you think, as you reluctantly follow your mother’s retreating back, people can be hexweed too.

to be continued…

next

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt smut #geralt fanfic #AU #medieval!au #medieval au #royal!au #royal au #dark fantasy au #GoT AU #darkfic #boxofbonesfic #Tonality fic

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter I

A.N.// Please enjoy Part I of a series I had alot of fun starting! This was inspired by my fanfiction on Wattpad @theangelradio - The Hunter & The Wolf - which includes the same characters and a very similar storyline. Let me know your thoughts!

Synopsis: Andromeda was a runaway elf taken in by the Royal Family of Cintra at a young age, and with every sign of her elven heritage scrubbed and torn off of her by her father in an attempt to make her pass as human, she was left feeling more alone than ever. Andromeda had thought she would never find a person who would accept her for who she was until the night of Pavetta's banquet, where a Witcher had made two claims as a reward for his bravery. Now the two were tied together by Fate - but if there's one thing everyone knew about Geralt, it was that he did not believe in destiny.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

Geralt made two claims many years ago. One he did not believe he would ever have to face. And the other he spent years running from. It seemed that fate had made it so he could avoid neither.

Accepting Cirilia's presence in his life has been easy enough, but her? She was too much. A burden.

Andromeda was Cirilia's aunt, although not biological - taken in at a young age by Queen Calanthe she grew up alongside Pavetta, her youth seemingly never fading. See what most of Cintra did not know was Andromeda was an elf, her scarred ears from where her own father hacked off the abominations were proof enough of that. Hoping the pain was worth the safety his daughter would get in return as he sent her towards villages and kingdoms.

It was.

That is until the night of Pavetta's banquet. Geralt made a claim, a claim he hoped with all his heart would not bind itself to another - Pavetta was bound to another so surely claiming the one dearest to Calanthe's heart would result in nothing.

Except it seemed Andromeda had weaseled her way into the heart of the woman who had taken her in, had found comfort in her arms and love in her heart. If destiny would not give him Pavetta, they could give him Andromeda.

Calanthe, Pavetta and Andromeda knew the consequences of his words, as he spoke his claims - their fears worsening as Pavetta's pregant state became public knowledge. They would now face the consequences of their gratitude it seemed.

***

Andromeda had escaped Geralt's existence for almost thirteen years, as far as Geralt was concerned his second claim had no effect and Fate had given him a pass. The only surprise he had to worry about was his Child Surprise. A secret vow, bounding him to the person Calanathe held close to her heart and considered a daughter? That was not his concern at all.

And so, Geralt remained oblivious of her existence until it became too hard to deny.

When Geralt had bedded Yennefer, Andromeda felt it, how it tore at her heart and how her soul roiled and burned in its place inside her. The betrayal to the bond and vow he made tying them together punished her for the actions of a man she wanted nothing to do with.

But she was used to it. It would not be the first time she had experienced such pain. So she sat, with Cirilla on one side and Jaskier on the other, her heart sinking in her chest as she forced herself to keep up her cheery charade knowing what was happening behind the closed doors of the inn they were resting at.

Geralt was betraying a woman he had no clue he belonged to.

The pain had subsided, but the feeling of misery only strengthened as she watched Geralt come down the inn stairs with Yennefer at his tail. The two looked perfect together, both warriors in their own image - strong and brave, nothing like she was. She could feel jealousy begin to claw at her throat, the tears slowly beginning to burn her eyes.

Andromeda composed herself, turning away from the duo to face Cirilla instead - "I think I'm going to head to bed."

Cirilla looked up at her in curiosity, knowing Andromeda rarely slept at all, especially during the night. Her fears of the dark outweighed her need to sleep, but as she looked over her shoulders towards Yennefer and Geralt - the two leaning on eachother, engaged in a bout of flirtatious commentary- she nodded her acceptance before agreeing to join her soon. Her aunt needed a moment to herself, and so Cirilla would give her atleast that.

Andromeda pushed herself to her feet, stood there for a moment as she took in a deep breath from her nose, careful to not change her expression. She avoided Jaskier's questioning eyes and breezed passed the distracted duo, unaware of Geralt's trailing eyes and flared nostrils as he scented her - he could hear her heartbeat, it was fast and harsh, but she smelt of the sky when it was about to rain.

As Andromeda made her way up the stairs she made eye contact with a rather slender man who was walking in the opposite direction, he had blue eyes and ginger hair that reached his shoulders, a thick beard decorated his face and scars lined his eyes - one blind and one seeing. But most of all, what caught her attention was the gentle aura about him, his clothes were simple tunics and despite his lumbering size he seemed to be a humble man - everything Geralt was not.

She found herself slowing down in front of him - after all the pain Geralt has caused her seeking his own pleasure, why can she not grant herself this one moment of gratification. Why wait, why save herself for a man who had no care of his own purity or sanctity. Why should she reserve herself, when she could be free like he acted. When she could cause him the pain he had been feeding her for years since he had made his proclamation.

"Hello there," Andromeda's voice had dipped, taking on a sultry tone as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. The coy expression that slid across her face had immediately caught the man's attention, his face heating to match the colour of his hair as he turned to face her - Andromeda's attention only bolstered his confidence as he leaned towards her unconsciously.

"Now who might you be, little lady."

"The best thing that may happen to you tonight," Andromeda laid her hand on his arm, her fingers unconsciously tightening around it as she felt the the muscle that outlined his lean figure. She felt her heart race for a reason that was completely different to jealousy - this was the first time she had given into her desires, and Fortunes did it feel good.

The two continued to flirt, exchanging subtle brushes of skin-on-skin, the man - who she now knew as Elias - tucked hair hair back for her, his fingers trailing her jawline. Until finally, his hand dragged down her shoulder, down her arm until he intertwined his fingers with her own - his head jutted in the direction of the stairs and just like that Andromeda followed his lead.

Unbeknownst to her, and much to the dislike of Yennefer, Geralt had been watching the two ever since she had approached the man, his heart began to thump harshly in agony and anger at the sight of her with another man, at the sound of their hearts whispering to one another, of the smell of his arousal and her excitement. But why?

It did not matter, Geralt gave into Yennefer's pestering and turned her way - accepting the fretted petting and flirtations that came along with it, trying to force his mind off the giggling pair who had escaped to the confines of an inn room.

***

Elias pressed Andromeda against the door the moment they had walked into the room, his lips crashing against her's as his arms pushed her hands above her head and held it there. Andromeda held her breath for a moment - she had never kissed anyone before, and now here she was - she found excitement sizzling at the pit of her stomach, butterflies racing up her spine and down her limbs as she pushed forward to reciprocate.

Elias laughed slightly at her enthusiasm, her lack of experience making her clumsy but endearing, and pressed closer towards her. Andromeda pulled her hands from his, trailing them down the front of his tunic her nails dragging against the fabric slowly. She had never touched a man before, not like this.

I mean, sure she had helped Geralt with the worst of his injuries but even then he wouldn't look at her. Not the way Elias was as she pushed her hands underneath his tunic, fingers grazing against his skin. She rubbed her palms up across the plane of his narrow torso, feeling the coarse hair that decorated his chest and the smooth skin of his body- nothing like Geralt. Good.

Elias stood back for a moment before leaning his forehead against her own, his eyes twinkled in anticipation as his hands moved to her waist to pull her forward. "Do you want to do this? With me?"

Andromeda thought of Geralt, of all the times he had seeked his own pleasure in others despite it causing her pain. Then she thought of his obliviousness and denial to the bond - the times where he would look at her like he was finally seeing her, only to turn around and bed the first woman he saw.

"Yes."

The two leaned forward, their lips touching as Elias slowly made his way backwards towards the bed, their body language more nervous and hesitant before. They broke apart as Elias sat down at the edge of the bed, his hands against her hips slowly pulling her onto his lap as he leaned back against the bed - he was giving her all the control of this situation she may want.

Andromeda leaned down to kiss him once more, her hands brushing against his chest as she moved them into his hair. This was it, she thought, this was where she would get her revenge but finally get to have something for herself too. She smiled in relief as their noses brushed against one another.

***

It was only one moment of pure silence, one moment and just like that everything changed. The door of the room they were in burst open, the handle crashing into the wall behind it creating a hole and causing the hinges to creak under the force.

Geralt.

Andromeda straightened in fear as she turned to look at him, still on top of Elias, she took him in. Geralt was seething, his eyes full of envy and murder, his jaw was clenched and his hands fisted at his side.

Neither her or Elias had enough time to say a word as Geralt launched in their direction, his hand made it onto her wrist as he pulled her off of Elias and into his own embrace.

Andromeda stared at him in incredulity, confused about why he was so angry and why, even now, even after doing this, he would not even look at her. Instead he stood there, glaring into Elias' soul pouring every ounce of hatred he felt into him and making his eyes widen in fear and haste as he stood up from his previous position.

Geralt did not waste his time with Elias, simply looked him over in disgust, as though he was questioning why Andromeda would pick him of all people. 'Because he isn't you,' the incessant voice in her mind whispered and she found herself stiffening at the sound.

As though he felt the thoughts racing through her mind, Geralt's arms tightened around her waist anchoring her back against his front as he sneered in Elias' direction.

"Mine."

Andromeda's heart skipped a beat, then began to race and pound in her chest as she took those words in, she craned her head to look at his face, but he held her tightly - his own heart soaring in relief at the sound of her racing one.

Elias could not look at either of them anymore, and she felt her heart sink as the surprise finally faded. Instead anger now took its place.

How dare he. After everything he has done to her, how dare he stop her from taking the one thing she wanted for herself. She found herself wriggling in his grasp, pushing against his arms in an attempt to escape but he barely moved, so she found herself seething towards him and spewing out hateful words, "let me go, you bastard. You have no right to do this, to stop me."

Geralt said nothing, instead he loosened his grip and reached for her wrist before she could escape his reach. He began dragging her out the room, passed the worried faces of Jaskier and Cirilla and the hateful expression Yennefer had gained.

Despite all her angry words and profanities, he did not stop, not until they had reached his room. He threw her into the room with so much force she fell at the edge of the bed, her hands being the only thing to steady her.

Her arms shook in anger and she shook her head with pained laughter, "how could you do that? Embarass me like that?"

Geralt stared at her mutely, his eyes still holding that look.

"What? You don't feel like talking now? Seriously Geralt? One time. One time I wanted to have something for myself and you take that, and don't even want to tell me why?"

"I did tell you why. You're mine."

"If I was your's, if I was truly your's, you wouldn't have fucked other women when I was right here."

Geralt did not know what to say to that, but she was right. He did sleep with other women. He looked away for a moment, and that was enough to make Andromeda scoff and she pulled herself straight and tried to get put of the room. Only it seemed Geralt was not done, so he grasped her shoulders to hold her in place, his eyes looking into her's as he fumbled with words.

And then finally, "I'm a monster."

Andromeda's struggles died down, she looked up at him in surprise, "what?"

"I didn't say anything, do anything because I thought you deserved better than me. Because you do deserve better than me, more than what I can offer. But seeing you with him... I was going to let you be happy, but I couldn't."

"I let you be happy."

"I know."

"For years."

Geralt looked resigned, "I wasn't."

"But why? You had everything Geralt, you took everything you wanted for yourself regardless of who it hurt."

"I didn't take you. I couldn't."

"And you still hurt me anyway. That stupid prize you claimed hurt me more than anyone else. Do you know what happens to me when you bed other women Geralt, do you know what I feel? The agony? The pain? I could feel nothing but hatred towards you, but you've bound us together so I can't avoid the pain even if I try."

"Prize?" Geralt's expression contorted in confusion, his brows furrowing in question as his lips pulled straight.

"I'm your prize, Geralt. I am your Law of Treasure. We're blood-bound, you bastard." Andromeda's voice came out weak and defeated, as though it hurt her to even have to speak the words aloud, to show that their connection was nothing but the work of Fate and Geralt's arrogance all those years ago.

Geralt felt as though he couldn't breathe. All these years and he assumed his claim was not set in stone, but now it all made sense. The way his blood burned next to her, the way his mind whispered all the things he should do to her, the way he always gravitated towards her. It was those reasons that made him draw back from her, push her away and replace the void with other women. Geralt didn't deserve her, but it seemed Fate had already decided otherwise.

His eyes then widened in guilt, his heart clenching as he realised she knew. This whole time she knew they were bound and she let him do as he wished freely because she didn't want to be a burden to him, even if it caused her pain and heartache. Even if it was him that was the true burden. What has he done?

He reached out towards her, but Andromeda decided to use his hesitance to her advantage as she ducked under his reaching grasp and stumbled through the door. Her face burned in embarassment as she realised how truly clueless he was, and how if it wasn't for the Fate tying them together he would not look at her twice.

Tears began to stream down her face - even when she tried to be happy on her own he couldn't let her have that, and now she had nothing.

She pushed through the crowded faces, looking down at her in pity as she rushed to her own inn-chambers, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it. Her breaths came out in shallow pants as her tears became heavier, but she did not dare make a sound in case Geralt heard her. Instead she slid to the bottom of the door, pulling her knees into her chest and crying silently into them - cursing the day Geralt had taken her as a prize and given her a life of pain and misery instead of the joyous life she was promised by Calanthe before her sister's marriage.

#geralt x ofc #geralt x you #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivera #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt smut #smut #angst #series #LawofTreasure

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

After hours

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Librarian!reader

Summary: Geralt has finally handed in the paper you helped him research for weeks... Now what to do about all that tension between you two?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, standing missionary, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), I think that's it?

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Alright! Roughly 4 months ago, I promised my dearest @deandoesthingstome a round with her Crescent Street fave (at the time, sorta). It has finally arrived! I hope you enjoy it 🥰

For those interested in the timeline: This takes place before he ever goes on his semester abroad, meaning that at this current time, he hasn't met Sol yet.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @livisss @brattymum96 @kingliam2019

“Thanks for all your help the past few weeks.” You’d been hoping he’d show up all day, and now that the library was about five minutes away from closing, here he was. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be able to hear your heart furiously beating in your chest. It’s a good thing that wasn’t possible. Right? 

“You’re more than welcome, Geralt,” you answered. For some reason you were avoiding his eyes. “Got that term paper done?”

“Handed it in a few minutes ago,” he said as he put a stack of books on the counter with a deep sigh. His voice drove you nuts, it had been doing so for weeks, haunting you until long after you had gone home - oftentimes deeper into the night than you cared to admit. 

“You don’t sound too confident?” No, but you did? Where was that coming from? You had expected yourself to crumble in the presence of this… long-haired hunk? Fine specimen? God? All of the above? 

“I’m sure it will be fine.” His smile surprised you the most. “If I’m being honest I’m mostly sad I… don’t get to work on it any more.” Your eyes moved to his as if by magic, because your brain still screamed at you to avoid them at all costs. And it was right to warn you, because as soon as you saw their beautiful color, you were lost. Every shred of the tension you’d spent weeks convincing yourself was a figment of your imagination, rushed back, and now there was so much of it you could almost see it in the air.

“Can I help you put these back?” Geralt said after you had signed his books back in, and you nodded in reply to his question, knowing full well the shelf they came from was all the way in the back of the library. You knew you’d been the only one in here for well over an hour now, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

“Let me get the door,” you said, before almost rushing to it and locking it quickly. You could swear you heard him chuckle under his breath at the way you moved, but you didn’t care.

You both scanned the aisles for people you’d missed, but per your expectations, the whole library was empty. It was just the two of you now. The walk to the mythology section of the building felt way too long, and you were definitely walking faster than you were used to, but you weren’t complaining - and neither was Geralt. You somehow found the time to start second guessing your interpretation of the situation, and had to very consciously remind yourself that putting four books back on a shelf was hardly a two-man job. And you were right about that; returning those books took maybe a minute, and when you were done putting the last one back, Geralt pulled you off the step you were standing on and looked at you. 

Once again, all the tension that had built up over the past few weeks came flooding back to you as you stared into his eyes. Your gaze only strayed from his long enough to notice the way the muscles of his jaw moved beneath his stubbled skin as he clenched his teeth. His hands felt warm and heavy as they rested on your hips, and your arms seemed to auto-pilot their way up until your lower arms were against his. Touching his biceps was a mistake - alright, not a mistake, but you were definitely shocked by the amount of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the dark sweater he was wearing. Geralt licked his lips as you let your hands travel up his arms to his shoulders, and when you reached them, he pulled you in. There was no going back now. 

He kissed you hard and in a way you’d almost describe as merciless, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Every move he made revealed a tiny bit more of the immense strength you had already suspected he possessed. Something told you that you’d be getting more proof of that - maybe even more than you bargained for, but you couldn’t care less. When you felt the warmth of his tongue against your lips, you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and let him in. He tasted of God knows what, but it was good, and the way he kissed you made your head spin and your knees weaken to the point where you weren’t exactly sure how you were still on your feet. Probably, you realized when you analyzed the situation a bit more carefully, because he was holding you up. Now that you were pulled against his body, his hands had moved away from your hips, and one of his arms now wrapped around your waist while the other pushed between your shoulder blades, crushing you into his chest. One thing you were very sure about was that you were not going to complain about any of this. 

You were glad to see that this had an effect on him, too. His heavy breathing matched your own and you felt his pulse drum against your fingers erratically when you laid a hand against his neck. Most of all, you were surprised that he was hard already, which made you feel a little bit less embarrassed about the slick mess you were absolutely sure you’d find between your legs. 

For weeks, you’d thought about asking him to join you for coffee after spending hours on the research for his paper together, or straight up asking him to take you home, even, but what was happening now bested even your dirtiest fantasies. Geralt still wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t exactly patient, either, and it wasn’t long before the hand he kept between your shoulders moved to your side, where it carefully began to creep up  over your clothes. Its destination was clear. You weren’t born yesterday, and he was a man; he obviously wasn’t interested in the feel of the fabric of your sweater. It was almost odd how he didn’t just immediately slip his hand underneath it…

To your disappointment, he broke the kiss, but luckily it was only to regain his ability to speak. 

“This is a lovely sweater, but it’s in my way.” You had been wrong: he did actually go on to comment on the softness of your sweater. That didn’t take away the fact that the way he cocked his eyebrow at you was a silent way of asking for your permission to take the thing off - which you gladly gave him. After a few short seconds, it was on the floor. Much to your own surprise, you told Geralt to just send your bra the same way immediately, while you frantically pulled at the hem of his sweater. After all, you needed to level the playing field a bit. The clasp of your bra was no match for his nimble fingers, which made you feel a little sad. Of course that wasn’t a new move to a guy like this - even though his being twenty-one made him a fair bit younger than the guys in your past. You were about to decide to not linger on the feeling, when Geralt made you forget about it altogether by kissing along your jaw to your ear. He moaned in it softly - a deep, gravelly sound that made you lose whatever little sanity you still possessed - and murmured a soft ‘fuck’ before moving away from you to take off some of his own clothes. 

It took everything you had to keep your mouth from falling open - and you were only about forty percent convinced you were actually successful. You’d always thought you had been more than generous in your wildly inappropriate dreams, but absolutely nothing on the planet gave this guy the right to be this fucking ripped. Despite probably managing to keep your mouth closed, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, and you battled the strange urge to lick every inch of his body; your hands would have to do. Your fingers trailed softly over his shoulders and chest, and you bit your lip as you let them slowly travel down over his abs to the waistband of his trousers. On a whim, you hooked your fingers behind it and pulled him closer to you again. There was a devious smile on his lips when you did, which gave you more courage than you ever thought you had. He let out the most delicious grunt when you softly palmed his erection through his jeans, which was partially lost against your lips when you pulled his face down to yours for another kiss. You resisted the urge to pull your hand back when you realized what this guy was packing. 

Geralt squeezed your ass through your skirt and grunted again - a sound you gladly answered with a moan. He bowed his head and put his lips to your neck, seeking out the spots that made you squirm and whine. After a short while, he pushed you back a few steps until you felt the cold concrete of the wall against your back. You shrieked at the sudden coolness against your skin, involuntarily arching your back and pressing your chest into his. Geralt laughed softly before resolutely pushing you back against the wall, lowering his head again to continue his quest further down your chest. You gasped when the warmth of his breath brushed past your sensitive nipples. The touch of his tongue made you lean into him again as he drew circles around the pebbled skin. His hands made their way to the hem of your skirt, pulling it up until he could comfortably reach between your legs. His fingers ran over the fabric of your underwear, and you shivered when Geralt deliberately circled your clit with slow, lazy movements. 

He raised his head again, leaving your nipples exposed to the merciless cold air of the room, and looked straight in your eyes when he pulled your panties to the side and dragged a finger through your slick folds. He wet his lips, and you heard a soft growl rumble in his chest every time he exhaled. It was torture, the way he kept teasing you until you were begging him to give you what you wanted, but somehow, the glacial pace with which he pushed a finger into you was so much worse. 

"Fuck, you're killing me," you growled. 

"Tell me what you want, then." God, his smile was amazing. You almost forgave him for teasing you beyond any reasonable boundaries. 

"I want you to stop teasing me," you replied. 

"You've been teasing me for weeks," he said to your surprise, "don't I get even a little in return?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. He had been the one teasing you for weeks, for crying out loud! He laughed when you suggested that.

"I don't think I care who started it," he growled into your ear as he finally pushed two fingers inside you and curled them in search of the perfect spot. Of course he found it in no time, and you were a squirming, shaking, whimpering mess in his arms within seconds. 

He kissed you again. It was rough, like before - and an excellent way to keep you quiet as his fingers continued to pump into you unrelentingly. Your nails dug into the muscle of his shoulder so fiercely you were sure it hurt him, but he didn’t look bothered by it at all. Every moan that escaped you seemed to inspire him to keep going until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“That’s it.” You clearly heard the excruciating smugness in his voice as he pulled you over the edge. Leaning against the wall wasn’t enough to keep your knees from buckling, but Geralt seemed to have no problem holding you up while he rested his forehead against yours. After a while, your legs were once again able to carry your weight, and you stood a little straighter as you once again ran your hands over the ridiculously muscular torso in front of you, not stopping until you reached the waistband of his jeans, which you swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped. As soon as you wrapped your fingers around his cock, Geralt moaned loudly, your mouth swallowing the sound up as you pressed your lips to his again. The kiss could hardly distract you from the thoughts that raced through your mind as your hand greedily explored what mother nature had blessed him with, and you couldn’t stifle a moan. 

Your fingertips didn’t touch. That sentence ran tireless circles through your mind as you gently, experimentally, moved your hand, attempting to draw a reaction from the man in front of you. Your fingertips didn’t touch, but instead of contemplating the probability that this was never in a million years going to fit, you let out a continuous stream of moans as you touched him. If the past few weeks had taught you anything, it was that you didn’t care whether this would be easy or not. You needed him. 

The sounds that spilled from Geralt’s throat were like music to your ears, ranging from dark, guttural growling to equally dark and guttural moans. He took the liberty of pushing his pants down to give you easier access, which finally inspired you to set aside your doubts and get on your knees. 

Geralt inhaled sharply when your tongue darted out to meet the tip of his cock, and you found yourself almost giddy with excitement. There was just something about making a man this size crumble beneath your touch, and from your current perspective, everything about him seemed even more massive than when you’d been standing up. You smiled as you listened to the noises Geralt made as you circled your tongue around his head. That smile widened when those sounds grew more impatient with every passing second, until he placed a hesitant hand on the back of your head, gently urging you to stop teasing him. 

There was no way you could take all of him into your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind. Men this generously endowed were probably used to that particular misfortune. Curiosity ultimately got the better of you, and you steadily moved further down his shaft until you reached your limit. At first, the hand Geralt kept on your head didn’t move at all, until there came a point at which he seemed to have confidently learned the extent of your capabilities. He was still gentle, applying only the slightest amount of pressure, never forcing you further down than you could handle. The occasional moan escaped you, the vibrations of which caused Geralt to groan, and his cock to twitch slightly in your mouth. 

It had been a while since you had been able to lose yourself so completely in a blowjob, and although you had no way of knowing how much time you spent on your knees, it must have been a rather long time. When Geralt pulled on your hair slightly - and more firmly after gaining some confirmation that you weren’t opposed to that kind of thing - and your almost trance-like state was broken and you were faced with reality again, the first thing you noticed was the excruciating sensation in your knees. You chuckled when the memory of one of your friends fought itself to the forefront of your mind. In your own days at the university, she had publicly - loudly, too - declared the library ‘carpet burn central’, and your knees were now living proof of her assessment. 

A large hand wrapped around your arm as Geralt pulled you off the ground rather unceremoniously, and pushed you back against the wall, kissing you fiercely. 

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath as he fumbled with something. The options regarding the source of the crinkling sound you heard - especially considering the context of the situation - were limited. Truth be told: anything other than a condom at this stage would have sorely disappointed you. Luckily, your educated guess was dead-on. 

“Need some help with that?” you taunted, not considering whether potentially antagonizing Geralt was a smart thing to do - it probably wasn’t. He huffed impatiently, breaking your kiss and looking at you with a lifted brow. There was something resembling amusement in those gorgeous amber eyes, and nothing of the annoyance that you had heard in his voice. 

“Got it,” he said, the smallest grin appearing on his lips. 

Without warning, he captured your body between his and the wall, pulling one of your legs up to his hip. It was not yet enough for him to comfortably move. While shaking his head slightly, a smirk on his lips, he lifted your other leg as well. The suddenness of your feet leaving solid ground made you shriek, and you wrapped your arms around Geralt’s neck. One thing was certain: there was absolutely no reason to doubt his strength. In fact, you wished furiously that you had chosen a less limiting and maybe more conventional position and location than the ones you currently found yourself in. Positions and locations with more possibilities for Geralt to show you what he was really capable of. At the very least, that location would contain something to tone down the sound of the screams you were sure he would pull from you.

As your thoughts raced through your mind about what could, would, should or might be, Geralt entered you slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust to the size of his cock. Much to your surprise, things went smoother than you had expected. The first thrusts came slowly, and were too gentle to really match the raunchiness of the position - or place - you were in. 

That didn’t last long. 

Whether it was his idea, inspired by your sloppily muttered ‘I can take it’, or a combination of both, you didn’t know - and quite frankly: you didn’t give a damn. Right now, it was just you and Geralt, and the way your arms were wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist, as you held on for dear life while each thrust came harder, faster and deeper than the one before. It was fantastic. Something about the way he moved had you hiding your face in his neck in a hopeless attempt to hide your screams. You squirmed in his arms as your hands closed into tight fists around locks of his white hair - which he didn’t even seem to notice. 

Geralt was an unholy combination of strength and stamina: rough, untamed, and seemingly always on the brink of losing control. For a moment, you were consumed by a single drop of sweat that traveled down his forehead, headed for the furrowed brow that sat over a pained expression. That tortured look gave you an idea of the sheer amount of restraint he needed right now to not topple over into the abyss of his own feelings, and chase nothing but his own pleasure. He’d hurt you. You were as sure of that, as you were of your suspicion that you wouldn’t mind so much as one microscopic little bit if he did hurt you. Never before had you surrendered so completely to a man, and if you had to be honest: never before had any of them earned your submission like Geralt did. 

He lasted way past the point where you should probably have asked him to slow down, then past the point where you wondered if you genuinely wanted him to slow down, and finally another while past the very moment any discomfort warped itself into pleasure again. That familiar, throbbing ache begged for attention - yours or otherwise - as Geralt slowed his brutal rhythm. A sigh of relief escaped you, not because it wasn’t good before, but because this was a pace at which your mind could keep up with the continuous, overwhelming flood of sensations. Geralt urged you to loosen your arms, which were still wrapped tightly around his neck. He held your hips tightly as he stepped back a tiny bit, giving you space to reach between your bodies and focus some attention where you needed it most. 

Geralt thrust into you with a steady rhythm while your fingers drew tight circles around your clit. Your breath caught in your throat as you came closer and closer to your orgasm with each thrust, each touch. When you finally exploded around him, a hint of a smile cut through the grim expression on Geralt’s face. His harsh features softened as his previously unrelenting rhythm finally faltered and made way for the uncontrolled and passionate thrusts that announced his nearing release. His fingers dug into your hips, and the growls that fell from his lips bordered on the feral. When he came, those growls largely died against your lips as he swept you into yet another breathtaking kiss. A hiss escaped you when his sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip and bit down painfully. 

When he finally - maybe after slightly more time than he should have allowed - slipped out of you and put you down again, you had to brace yourself against the wall in order to stay on your feet. This guy was genuinely every bit as amazing as you’d imagined he’d be - and then some. Or rather: he had been. As you gathered your discarded clothes off the floor and put them back on, scrambling to make yourself at least somewhat presentable again, you realized that this was it. It was over. The one thing you had spent weeks looking forward to, was now something of the past. Suddenly, a wave of something you couldn’t quite place washed over you. Not regret, no, you’d recognize regret. Even the where and how of this encounter couldn’t hold a candle to your worst drunken mistakes - the ones you actually did regret. There was absolutely nothing to regret about something this amazing, except maybe the fact that it was over. 

As you questioned why part of you was questioning your unquestionable life choices, you vaguely took note of Geralt sneaking off to the bathroom. Of course, your initial fear was that he would sneak off altogether, but you remembered the only entrance to the library was locked, and you were the only person present with a key. Your suspicion was confirmed when Geralt returned to you a bit later. 

The two of you found yourselves in a very interesting situation. If the morning after a one night stand was awkward, the moment after a wicked semi-public quickie in the library was at least twice as uncomfortable, and then some. You didn’t speak as you locked up and left the floor you were on, and while you walked, at least a hundred scenarios crossed your mind that did nothing to settle your nerves about saying your goodbyes. Whatever you conjured up in your brain was also useless in preparing you for the one thing that actually did happen. 

“Come back to my place,” Geralt said as you stepped outside. No matter how hard you tried, you were ultimately unsuccessful in keeping your eyes from going wide as you heard his words. Something about it wasn’t a question, which turned out to be enough to bring back the thrumming between your legs and weaken your knees. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #geralt #179 crescent street #179cs #179cs10 #geralt of rivia x reader

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Shift My World (The Witcher Fanfiction Chapter 5)

Summary: Shifting is all grand and dandy for those who believe in it. Does it work? Who knows! Some people say it does while others don't, perhaps it's just something in the mind. Olivia Watson found the truth behind it as she transfers herself into the world of The Witcher one night after a drunken movie night with her friends! Only she wasn't expecting to get stuck there and worse off...she didn't expect to love them as much as she did.

Prompt: In honor of Henry Cavill who no longer will be with us on The Witcher as Geralt of Rivia after season 3. I have decided to take my ongoing story from Wattpad to share with you guys!

workshop

Previous

The rhythmic thumping of hooves on dirt along the main road did not turn many heads as wagons drove by and people passed with goats or cows. This was a busy street so her presence was not noticed as anything odd right off the bat. That was a fact that she was most grateful for as she led her stallion off the main path and through the gates of the town of Rinde. It was a quaint little place if not a little seedy by the looks of the marketplace but this was a place she needed to be. This was where Olivia had finally tracked down Yennefer to be at the current moment. Partly from her knowledge of the TV series but partly because she had to do the grunt work by asking around to get to know just exactly where things were to get a feel of the timeframe she was set in. All the while as she did this she would often hear stories and tales of the White Wolf and the singing bard anywhere she went making the sour taste in the back of her throat worsen with each encounter. She'd left them; Geralt and Jaskier back in that town that she almost had now forgotten the name of even if she had not forgotten the kind people. She hadn't searched for the two men and more often than not had to stop herself from asking around in towns where she knew they'd been for info on their well-being. She'd meant what she'd said all those nights ago and she would not apologize for them; it was a thing of the past she had to forget and move on to achieve her goal in the period that she was able. Because she didn't want to waste time and get caught up in the war that was brewing behind the scenes just ready to explode. 

But in the end, her hard work had paid off and that's all that mattered to her. She'd found her target and it was time she got answers or at least some help; it wouldn't do for her to get distracted now. God, the months she'd spent from one town to another just to find some coin to be able to buy herself much-needed equipment and essentials had taken too much of her time. She knew Yennefer would also want coin as an exchange for her services so Olivia had worked her ass off to get the pouch she carried on her person for this meeting. 

As Olivia pulled Thor to a halt by the back stables she had to look around to make sure no one else was around. The mansion was rather barren except for a greasy large man standing by the gates juggling a small pouch full of coins she had given him moments before as a bribe for his silence and her entry. There was not even a stable hand to take Thor from her. That didn't matter though. She could tack him up in a stall herself. The mayor's stables for his home were better than a local tavern stable but not by much; a testimony of just how far the mayor had fallen under Yennefer's spell. She knew she'd be in there in that room filled with spell-cast people having a damn orgy of all things. She just hoped she had come in time before Geralt came in with an injured Jaskier. Still, it would not be a pretty sight for Olivia's eyes. As she took care of the black horse into a stall and allowed him room to breath without his burden of saddle and bedroll on him she turned down to look at the large grey beast that was sniffing the straw scattered cobblestone. 

"Killua stay here, guard the door until I come back okay? We don't want you giving the poor mayor a heart attack, right?" the woman rubbed a hand along the wolf's head before glancing cautiously down the rows of stalls to see if she could spot a familiar chestnut mare in one. When she found nothing but empty spaces in the other 5 stalls beside Thor's the dark-haired woman sighed in relief realizing she came just in time. 

Pulling the thick coat around herself she walked out of the stables towards the front entrance of the mayor's home. Not even needing to knock as she knew quite well he would be walking into the room moments later naked as the day he was born. She was already looking at a different part of the door as she heard his footsteps enter the kitchen. She grimaced and kept her eyes firmly on the opposite wall.

"Well hello there. I did not know I was getting visitors...I was going to get some apple juice. She does like her apple juice; she was asking for it." the mayor's lulling voice spoke as if he was not at all surprised to have a stranger in his home.

Of course, the poor man wouldn't mind. He was cast under whatever spell Yennefer had him under. He wouldn't even remember what happened in the morning. Better for him. Still looking away from the very naked older man the woman reached blindly out towards him to grab the jug of juice. 

"No need to worry, I'll take it to her. You just go sleep okay?" she offered as she slipped on past him; giving him plenty of room so as she would not have to touch him at all with any part of herself. Making a grossed-out face at the very idea of any part of her making contact with the old wrinkly naked man. 

It was far worse when she walked through the door into Yennefer's lair. Strangers all around her were in all sorts of different stages of undress and the lady herself was right where Olivia expected her to be. Sitting on her throne at the back of the room looking like a seductress at work as she watched everyone. Those enthralling violet orbs turned from where they were watching a couple across the room to meet Olivia's hesitant gaze as she stood at the door holding the jug of apple juice like an idiot. Feeling even more uncomfortable she began stalking her way through the room trying so hard not to touch anyone as she neared the woman.  Yennefer's gaze fixed on the other as she weaved gracefully between bodies until she stood right in front of her. Purple irises sizing her up as much as she was checking her out. Olivia's jaw clenched a little at that but she said nothing about it and instead spoke up before the other had the chance.

"I'd like to cut to the chase. I know you're a powerful mage. I need your help with something important. I have coins to be able to compensate your time." Olivia stated firmly and with as much authority as she could muster.

Her words and demeanor made Yennefer's brow raise from under the black lace mask she wore across her eyes. "Well, not even an introduction before business. Straight to the point, I see; I like that. But what makes you think that I am for hire?" she questioned in a voice that was supposed to be seductive and perhaps a little teasing.

Olivia was not fazed. Not really because she knew all of that was just a cocky act to get under her skin. The pale woman knew what Yennefer truly wanted in life but could never obtain; not that she'd tell her that. "Because you wouldn't be here casting love spells for orgies if you weren't waiting on someone worth your time." Olivia reached over and placed the jug of juice on the armchair of the black-haired woman's throne. "Do we have a deal?" 

Yennefer gave a little haughty laugh and shook her head. "A deal for what exactly. You haven't even proposed a deal worth taking sweetness," she replied with that cocky smirk on her cherry-painted lips.

The traveler took a breath trying to stay calm as she glanced towards the door behind her. "I don't have time for this. I need help with some memory work. It's important, I need you to trust me because I can help you find what you are truly searching for but not unless you help me out okay? So, do we have a deal Yennefer of Vendeburg?" Olivia said impatiently. 

God if this woman wouldn't just agree already she could go ahead and go before those doors open and Geralt walks in with an injured and suffocating Jaskier. As much as Olivia wanted to be there waiting for them she knew her presence would not be wanted. So she had to make this as quick as possible so that she could be on her way and let history play out. 

"Alright, we can talk more later if you are so impatient. Meet me back here in the morning." the mage replied after a moment of thought and a wave of her hand of impatience.

Olivia could have sighed relief but she knew she didn't have the time for emotional reactions. She gave the female mage a nod of agreement before she turned to scuttle back out of this eyesore of a room but she pause before she made it far as if thinking better of it. She turned and swiftly grabbed the apple juice from where she had set it a moment ago. 

"Don't worry, you'll get your apple juice here in a moment," Olivia replied seeing the distaste in the dark-haired mage's eyes. 

The cloaked figure fled from the room then made sure to place the jug right back on the table before she was out the front door just in time too as the back door opened and a familiar pair stumbled in. She didn't know what stopped her from rushing off immediately. But she stopped, hiding behind the half-closed door watching Geralt and Jaskier. Gods Jaskier looked far worse than he did in the TV show. She wanted to go to them and help but she knew she couldn't. They'd made their choice and so had she. She knew Yennefer would help them and Jaskier will be well again in no time if not a little disgruntled. Geralt and Yennefer would have wild sex together after nearly dying from the Djin that nearly kills them and they part ways in the morning. When Geralt and Jaskier leave in the morning after said scene Yennefer will be alone and that's when Olivia will make her appearance to talk more to her about what she needs help on in specifics. But just the thought of what was going to go down here in just a few hours made Olivia's stomach turn. Not because intercourse revolted her but somewhere inside of her she knew it'd hurt her. Her emotional feminine feelings would get crushed because Yennefer and Geralt were meant for each other and Olivia well...jealousy was not a good color on anyone. She closed her eyes a moment to regain her composure and as she opened them again and begin turning to leave as intended. She swore her gaze met Geralt's for that split second it took the door to close and her heart skipped a beat. 

~

She let herself into the mayor's home. The house was a wreck for the most part. Except for the far wing that thankfully was left untouched. The rest of the mayor's home was in shambles and he had already left this place after waking up from Yennefer's freaky spell with a headache and great confusion. Olivia found her there, sitting in the bath of steaming water; gaze zoned out somewhere off to the side as she seemed to be lost in great thought about something as she idly rubbed a sponge along her arm. Olivia knew she could have waited until the mage was done with her bath. But she didn't. Something inside of her told her her presence was needed right now of all times. So here she was. She did not care if the mage was naked beneath the clear water. It would not be the first or the last time Olivia would see a naked woman's body; although she did not look purposefully to stare. Instead, the reality shifter pushed off the doorframe of the bathing room and draped her cloak over the edge of a bench, and rolled her sleeves past her elbows before kneeling beside Yennefer and taking the sponge from her hand. The mage startled and turned to look at her. 

Olivia's gaze softened slightly as she gave a small smile. "I think you look better without all that makeup and cockiness," she commented as she began to gently but persistently scrub at the mage's golden skin of her back. 

"You act differently when you are not around half-naked people." Yennefer commented making Olivia laugh. 

"And you act differently when you aren't trying to be someone you're not," she replied pointedly before adding after a short pause; voice again gentle and understanding as she said. "You'll see him again, don't you worry about that. He isn't hard to ignore. Not a man like Geralt of Rivia." 

Yennefer stilled a little before half turning to face the dark-haired woman. Purple clashed with blue as the mage stared at her searchingly. "How do you know him?"

"I used to travel with him for a few years...Although, it's been quite some time since I've last seen or spoken to him. We did not part ways on good terms." Olivia started worrying the skin of her bottom lip. 

"And how do you know I will see him again?" the mage demanded. Olivia's gaze lifted from her task to see the other's hopeful gaze. 

"I just do." Olivia forced a smile she did not feel to her face before handing back the sponge to the mage. "You can say I know the future," she added making Yennefer frown.

"You do not look like a mage...I cannot sense any chaos or magic within you." 

Olivia's eyes darkened. Of course not, because she was nothing special. Nothing but a burden to others. That's why she left. That's why she forced her heart to shield itself from anyone else that dared knock at its gates for entry. 

"No...I have neither magic nor chaos within me. I'm human...I'm nothing more than human. But I know things. Things that will come to pass and things that have already passed. It's confusing but...if you care to hear my story with an open mind I can tell you how." she turned to face the mage who stared at her with weariness but curiosity boiling behind those violet irises. 

"I'd like to know; tell me," Yennefer demanded.

Olivia stared at her for a long moment before taking a breath in resignation. She knew this would happen. She had mentally prepared herself to tell Yennefer; it was after all the only way the mage would trust her enough to help. 

"Are you sure you'd like to know? It's very unbelievable." Olivia had to confirm if she could trust the mage. Right now, she knew she couldn't but if she told her her story would the other woman trust her or use her? There was only one way to tell at this point so she helped the witch from her bath and allowed her to dress before the two sat in the bathing chambers side by side.

Olivia spilt it all to Yennefer. Not letting go of much more detail than what was needed for the mage to know. She told her how she came from a different reality and that in her world this place was nothing but make-believe. At first, Olivia could tell Yennefer wanted to laugh at her and call her crazy; hell Olivia would have thought the same thing. But the more she talked. The more she described her story the more the truth dawned on the mage. It finally sank home though whenever Olivia told her she knew; describing in great detail just exactly what happened to her to make her the beautiful powerful woman she was. No one outside of the academy knew what Yennefer did and most certainly not a stranger like Olivia. It was a hard pill to swallow that she knew as much by the look in her eyes as Yennefer rose and began pacing the small chambers trying to mull over the information. 

"So, asides from all that...what is it that you are needing from me?" she demanded. "This story is too wild to be true but the fact that you are describing such things is....undeniable." she finally said with shoulders slumping a little as the truth settled in.

Olivia clapped her hands together and leaned them on her legs as she looked down at her feet. "The way I came to this world was by a method called shifting. It's this weird mental projection thing like dream hopping or something that my friend back home described to me. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to realize what I was writing...I don't know if this is scripted out right now or if it's off the books because I can't find those damn pages that I wrote everything on; honestly wasn't expecting to find them here but I can't even remember what was written. I figured you could cast a spell or something to be able to go into my memories. " the dark brunet started looking up at the other.

"I don't know that sort of magic to do that...not without killing you." Yennefer stated after a moment looking regrettable as she said it. "But, there is an ancient way that could help if you'd be willing to try it...the problem is the ingredients for the spell are very hard to come by and are very rare. We'd have to go traveling in search to find them."

She sighed rubbed at her temples. "If it's the only way Yennefer then I'll gladly do it," Olivia replied softly; a voice full of exhaustion eclipsing every syllable.

"Something doesn't sit right here though...I understand that you must return home back to your time but...even a blind person could see that that is not what your heart wants." Yennefer sat beside the older girl and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't want to go home, do you?"

Olivia looked at her boots with a frown in thought. "I-of course I do! It's my home, my time. I got friends and family back there waiting. It's just..." she trailed off tipping her head to look into those deep violet eyes. "This place seems so much like a dream. Yet, even in this dream-like place...I've never felt more at home." she said softly. 

Yennefer didn't say anything after that, just looked at her with this sort of look that Olivia couldn't describe. "We'll figure it out." Yennefer finally said with a small smile. "Thank you for trusting me."

Olivia forced a small smile in return. "Thank you for believing me." now all she hopes is that she did not just screw herself over by exposing herself to the mage knowing just how vengeful Yennefer of Vendeburg could be. 

Chapter 6 Coming Soon

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia x fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #titlemewickedwonderland #shift my world #henry cavill

[lainiespicewrites]

LainieSpice Masterlist

I wanted to compile everything because I think I'm going to start writing more!!

Captain Syverson

Oneshots:

The Christmas Cabin

The Christmas Cabin Part 2

Series:

Coach Sy Basically captain Syverson but a high school football Coach 😍

Coach Sy Ch 2

Coach Sy Ch 3

Coach Sy Ch 4

Coach Sy Ch 5

Coach Sy Ch 6

Electric summer: Sy and his old summer camp love reunite when they come back to camp as counselors!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Walter Marshall

Series:

I just want to feel safe

Part 1

Part 2

Henry

Oneshots:

Someone to take her home

A lesson in flirting

#fanfiction masterlist #Henry Cavill masterlist #captain syverson #Henry Cavill #henrycavill fanfic #captain syverson smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill smut #fanfiction #fanfic writing #henry cavil x reader #captain syverson x ofc #august walker #august walker smut #henry cavill fluff #syverson smut #syverson x reader #Syverson fluff #geralt fanfic #charles brandon #mikey fanfic #mike hellraiser

[court-jobi]

Behind the Bar

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Kenna (Herbalist OC)

Words: 4,249

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: none

A/N:    An interlude for two unlikely, fast friends over a bar chat… about perceptions, monsters, and the magic a simple act of kindness can have in their grey world. This is a one-shot set a little time after the start of my upcoming fic, A Stroke of Luck; enjoy~

Summary:   A calm, predictable routine had settled between the Witcher and Dandelion’s new, darling addition to his masterplan; a comfortable, easy end to the day– with Kenna as his company. The two were no longer acquaintances after shared meals, close calls on the road, exchanging goods, and crossing paths at several turns that one could only perceive as fated meetings. After a day of earning her own keep at the local spot where Dandelion has posted up in the city, Kenna steps in to defend Geralt for what he’s due– something he’s clearly never experienced in such a charming way. 

Normally, knights are the noble ones in the city; not herbalists with a mind for money and deduction skills. 

Read on AO3

A red tethered topknot collected most of Kenna’s sweat from the stockpot. On hot days like this, brewing outside is not only a necessity, but a mercy. 

Her celandine seeds currently roasting over the flame are potent in a moderate amount, but with the steamy heat of summer driving everyone in Velen to the nearest river, Kenna knew trying to cook off copious amounts of pollen in a small kitchen would cause headaches galore– a migraine just waiting to happen. Still, catching a breath herself was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the sake of this batch.

"Twenty minutes," Kenna rasped to herself- wistfully catching sight of the still wind chime at the far corner of the patio. No breeze today. "Maybe thirty. Then a much needed cool down..."

Kenna brushed off the polleny barbs on a dirt rag, and took a swig from her canteen. She counted the horses filling up the stable overhang across the way, brows flicking up at the sight of a familiar dun.

"Roach~"

The mare turned head and gave a quick, barreling whinny. Kenna ducked under the tarped shelter and through the walkway to scratch the Witcher's much-loved steed across the blaze of her snout. She found the sweet spot under the horse's bangs easily, relishing in the fluttery burrs coming from deep in her barded chest.

"Like that, don't you..." Kenna hummed down to Roach’s head nuzzling straight against her stomach. "Glad to see you too. Wonder what your friend's gotten up to, hm baby? Is he inside?"

Roach couldn't give an answer, but Kenna engaged the conversation anyway.

"Yeah, I should go say hi. Maybe bring a little treat to a special someone after, huh?" Kenna cooed, and earned another agreeable burr. Seemed the ashen-colored mare next to Roach shared the sentiment. With a final scratch, Kenna doubled back inside the back door, shedding the potholders strung to her wrists and making her way to the bar.

Slipping past a few of the entertaining girls for the night with a welcoming smile, Kenna joined Dandelion’s side by the peddler’s table as he looked on. Activity near the front door had his attention with strong degree of disapproval.

"Uh-oh. That's a look.” Kenna murmured over his shoulder, not making it look obvious that she was looking, too. “What's going on?"

"Mmmm. I think someone’s trying to stiff Geralt." Dandelion sniffed haughtily. "That lout’s been floundering ever since he got the full story of the contract he lent out. Job's done- he better pay him." Dandelion spoke with conviction, but with an aire of a joke. "Or else I might just sing ‘The Song’ as loud as I can manage."

"Geralt said he doesn't like it."

"I don't care if he doesn't like it- it's the principle!" Dandelion soured. "Ts'why I put the line right in there!" He seemed certainly proud of his creative stroke, but moseyed on over to his band’s half circle to try and break from his foul mood and give his impatience time to cool off.

Looking back, Kenna sorted herself around the counter, treading close to the end where Geralt wore a flat scowl of his own. His hair partly wisped about by a likely rushed scuffle, it stuck behind his ear a little haphazardly on one side, and only proved the dangerous risks and efforts of his line of work. 

Catching herself from staring too much, she did fall in line and familiarize herself with the current state of coin and orders coming in. It wasn’t her night to tend the dining pots, but she was always agreeable to help Marge out when things picked up around this hour. Some slips were for standing tabs, meals to-go, and for the brews currently being concocted outside on her burner as quick medicines. On the stake beside the coinbox sat the paid out tabs, half-crumpled; she saw a regular’s- Corrull, from up the high street- had just paid out. To her surprise, he was the one Geralt was talking to by the door. 

Kenna picked out his higher pitched voice rushing out a pleading laugh to break the tension. Back still turned to her, Geralt crossed his arms and leaned onto one heavy-set foot.

"Please, I've had bit’of business since Hump day, Witcher; you know how these things go! I gotta keep up. There's been costs, and doctors calls- my youngest girl's been tied in knots over this whole housing mess.. been mislaid for almost a week now from the stress."

"This isn't what we agreed to."

"Have a heart, man- damn godlings are a mess- not tryna snuff you, or nothing, but twenty coin really gonna put you out that much? It's a good thing ya done- you have my thanks, honest-"

"Grateful conscience or not. Still won’t buy me dinner." Geralt managed levely.

Kenna's brow furrowed and her chin upticked- Dande was right.

Corrull went on about his recent laundry list of expenses before Kenna's feet moved on their own and came from the bar to their space with a confident air in her shoulders, messing with her hand towel just casually enough to show authority as part of Marge’s staff.

"Everything ok here, gentlemen?" Kenna eyed them both, more focus landing on Geralt’s noncompliant company.

"Kenna, love!" Corrull visibly waffled, "Just settling up with a posting, no trouble here."

Geralt wasn't impressed, glaring daggers into the man's temple and rolling off to the side, not quite meeting her eye back.

Kenna kept aloof and light. "That so?"

Geralt groused, "Wouldn't say that." 

Geralt's tone kept sound but the edge on the last beat ruffled Corrull ever so much, even in a bystander's presence. Kenna looked back to Corrull for a clearer answer than his nervous chuff of laughter.

"Just hard to uh-- settle up when your pot's empty, ya know miss? Just paid off my tab, you can check! I'm good for it, Witcher!" He claimed, posture jumpy. Geralt soured even more.

Kenna's brow lifted, her proof coming to mind.

"True enough, he sure did," Kenna lilted, stepping back to the bar. With a quick blind grab, she flipped up the spoked slip of paper. "Amount of- oh look here.. twenty pieces. Got the Friday special, I see. Someone was feeling indulgent."

Geralt eyed her back more calm than before, with a curious sort of furrow to his brow. Beside him, he glanced in his peripheral as the man's throat bobbed. Guilty as sin.

"Tell you boys what," Kenna slipped comfortably onto the low tabletop to address them, slipping the sheet to Corrull, "How's about you take this, my friend... And we'll settle that up when you're not in such a tight spot. Got a week's due date, after all- says so on the door."

She referenced the casual plaque above his very head with a pointed nod, and while both looked up dumbly to it, she rustled up the increments of five gold pieces to the total of twenty.

"And this-- can be used to pay the Witcher what he's owed." 

Stance calm and collected, Kenna kept her tone equally sweet, but with a careful look that meant this was more than a suggestion aimed straight at the portly man.

Geralt unfurled his arms to keep casual rest on the hilt of his shortsword, looking far less threatening, but solemn to a fault.

Swallowing against a flare of pride, the man nodded all too quickly,

"Mmm-- agreeable. Fair enough. Call it done, Master Witcher?"

With the same severe look that wasn't to be messed with earlier, Geralt shrugged off with a dismissive wave.

"Fine by me."

"Good deal!" Kenna brightened with a knowing smile. "Then you'll take this..." 

Corrull came to claim the tab and drop off the remaining bag of coins beside the stack on the counter, before she offered, 

"And-- a quick word I hear, from a wise man?"

"Yesm, Ma'am?"

Her voice dropped a fraction in volume.

"Pay your debts, in the order in which they're received. Just good business."

Message delivered; Corrull’s subdued nod was prompt indication. Satisfied by the small sweaty blink away of nerves he showed, Kenna patted the coin bag and carried on wiping out a still drying cup within reach- as casual an act as always.

"Lovely," she perked up again, "do enjoy your night, barber. We'll see you back to settle that one up- whenever's convenient for you."

"Course, ma'am.... Witcher, my regards."

"Hm." Geralt nodded briefly. 

And Corrull slipped out of the Rusted Arrow's well worn door with a shake of the head and a jerky rake of his hair, making off not unlike a dog with his tail between his legs.

Slipping off the counter's edge to a less precarious posture, Kenna huffed at the obvious poor planning and shitty business sense of the patron. As thankful as she was for regulars, that display wouldn't endear the Barbersons to her for a while. 

Back to Geralt, the Witcher pocketed the bag before shedding his swords off under the counter edge and took a seat.

Kenna rallied a cleansing breath, catching Geralt's eye and giving a sympathetic little smile. All previous ‘peddler’s appeal’ voice gone, she dropped to her more natural, unfussy tone.

"Hey there, stranger."

"Hey," Geralt smirked back lifelessly. "Thanks for that."

Clearly he wasn't all too pleased.

"...Does that happen often?"

Geralt dismissed with a curt shake, "Few and far between."

Kenna hummed, content enough for the rarity of such stinginess of people. Witchers took on the strangest and deadliest of occupations, in her eyes... Managing payment for those services seemed a given, especially the more desperate the man was to get a witcher's help.

Refreshing her tucked hair back, Kenna shook off her abrupt wave of justice. Geralt spoke up again, so she recentered to listen- though wilted at the same time, noticing his head cocked down a bit staring off at the bar too absently.

"Iron's gone up in the last month. Everything's more costly. Arrowheads, sinker lines, horseshoes even..." He huffed dully. "This kind of job will barely cover my regular list–thanks-" He acknowledged her pour of some ale with a sip. After a thin lipped swallow, Geralt eyed Kenna with a resolute firmness of his brow. "I don't mean to sound cold over a bit of short change. But twenty coin's twenty coin. The rest is pretty much spoken for."

Kenna scoffed lightly with an ease of her brow.

"You don't owe me a single explanation- not to anyone, Geralt. You earn what you earn- and you should get every bit of it. It's only right."

"Still," he drawled, giving a small nod. "All I mean is every bit counts, wasn't meant to be greedy. Witchers get enough shit as it is."

"You said that last time," Kenna frowned thinking back to his visit at the start of the month. 

"Kinda nice tho... Having someone stick up for a Witcher for once. That's a rare sight."

Geralt was looking off through the window’s condensation, so he missed Kenna’s wry little smile. A thank you, in his own way.

"So I literally scored you dinner with my little stunt, huh?" She hinted.

"Sure did." He looked back, visibly more relaxed.

Kenna couldn't stifle the pride blooming in her chest again. They say good deeds don't go unpunished, but she couldn't see a downside when the timing was so perfect.

"Well don't worry- it's not a favor you gotta return when it's over your hard earned money." She tapped the counter, working her jaw casually, eyeing him up amicably. "Dinner’s up to you now; what'll it be? Same special as Jackass out there, orrrr we have a good bit of chicken, greens, Redwood rarebit- and if I remember right, bread from this morning? I think it's still good."

"You pick. Sounds good."

Hyperverbal as always. 

This Witcher... days like his, stretching on to the night, where a meal is hit or miss... Been a long day, Kenna imagined, so she decided to cut him slack.

"Alright, Mr. Chatty," Kenna dropped the hostess' airs, and settled into her routine. "One bread or two?"

"Mm," he hummed. "How much'll that get me?"

Kenna paused. He's dead serious.

"Two," she decided, with a smile.

"Might as well."

Navigating the stovetop was fast paced with three girls working tonight, so Kenna was able to slide in and out with minimal invasion. Sweet girls- this was their first job for two of them; trying so hard to please and make a few extra tips. Kenna was simply glad for the exclusive backdoor access to the outside fireplace, and left the interior fires for the staff to have as much space to manage mealtimes as possible. Paired with the visiting bard, she wasn’t necessarily in this job for the money- more for the company, “in” with the local herbalists, and here to manage Dandie’s books while he wooed the populace. Didn’t hurt to make a few friends along the way- or treat them to a kinder night of conversation than what they were typically dealt…

"You're quick."

Geralt was studying her even before she dropped off a couple plates to his spot. The sole attention might have scared any of the other girls, Kenna thought. But under Geralt’s eye- that almost rang a compliment.

"I’m not exactly a field track star, Geralt. I hate running." She teased with an eye roll. Sidestepping around the bustle wasn't a task to be taken slowly.

"Quick at reading people," Geralt stated as his correction, "Reading a room. Diffusing situations."

"Working with all the hotheads in here?” Kenna mused, “You pick it up after a while if you don't wanna go mad. And I’ve worked in quite a few spots like this one."

"You know what I mean. C'mon."

Kenna shook her head- not following.

Geralt worked through a bite before asking, "How do you manage it?"

"... Stopping barfights, or not losing my patience?"

"Understanding people." he asked with a careful eye.

Well, this is chattier.

"Well,” Kenna started, “I like people- shocker."

Geralt gave a conceding look and kept eating.

"All kinds. And that's... -not a popular opinion. People find anything to fight about nowadays. Dwarves, elves- witchers; don't have to explain that one."

Geralt's wariness softened.

"I guess the more I've moved, the more I’ve listened.. People are complex, no matter where they come from. We have…” she paused to collect stray thoughts together and blew some air through thought, “These ideas of what we should be, what we wanna be, and what we are. And if I look hard enough- I start to 'get' it, myself. I can hear it in their stories. There’s things people say- and things they don't say. Both are telling."

"And I dunno." Kenna stepped back towards the back counter, arms lax but bracing herself upwards. "Everyone's got a story. Maybe if we all listened a bit, we'd understand each other better. Not get so wrapped up in this political mess, greed, vendettas and actually put that energy towards something better. Better for all of us.." 

She waved humorlessly to him; the gesture was received with a smirk.

"I may not be a huge part of the solution in my tiny little corner of the world.... But I just don't wanna be part of the problem. It pays to listen in."

Geralt blinked, a thought passing through, fleeting. 

"Life's too short, y'know?" Kenna spun to the positive. "Might as well make the ride easy for folks while I'm here. Do some good. It's in rare form, like you saw tonight. That's why I try my hardest to 'herd the cats'; it works to calm me down at least." She sullied as the barber’s interaction seeped back in. 

The cat-eyes focused, a question behind them and his brow lifted.

"You think it's naive-- I can see it on your face."

"Difference between optimism and being naive.” Geralt answered, “You're not naive."

"Well, thanks." She wiped a cup, not convinced at his still-inquisitive gaze.

"... I think you're what the world needs."

Kenna blanked out, staring back. He offered a little, thin lipped smile- barely there. Then took another drink.

"... Wow." Kenna managed out of her confusion. "Here I thought I was talking your ear off."

"No,” he wiped a bit of juice between his thumb and forefinger. “You just made me think."

"About what?"

"Couple things," he rose and joined her behind the bar, sitting with his back to the room-- across from her, her equal.

Squared up, she sipped from her canteen in new company.

"What are you thinking about?"

"These spectres. Ghouls. Settling into houses around this area; they’re often tortured. Beings that  were never properly laid to rest when they met their end. It makes sense to know why they breed suffering and wrath on everything, because they never got the chance to feel it themselves. Just as they're misunderstood in life- they also are in death. They're trapped in the mortal plane, and can do real harm in the moments between real and unreal."

Kenna was surprised at the tangent. Still, he was sharing. This had to be fairly rare too. 

"Huh."

"The job–one I just did,” he rolled back his shoulders, “The spirit was that of a child who was feeding on the collective dreams of the owners of the wellerman’s house from nearly a decade ago. His parents. Kid died young, but was hardly mourned because he was some sickly thing- seen as a burden on the family. The family moved on to bear more children, seemingly much happier. But so much hatred and scorn drove the child's spirit to madness in the last days of life- and so, he haunted them in death, until they went mad and passed with equal unrest. Arguably before their time."

"Woah."

"Coursem now,” Geralt nodded on, “You'd think justice was done- the nightwraith would be content with handfuls of residents coming in and out of that home. But he wasn't sated. Bitterness rots. Destroys you. Lingers– it's a slow thing, that only hurts:"

"-yourself." Kenna reasoned along with him, "And that even happens to undead creatures like that?"

"It's how they thrive. You don't know any different way to survive when you're in a plane of your own."

It sounded lonely, in the worst sense.

Geralt mused with the storytelling genius of all those cautionary tales she’d been reared on, 

"He fed on what he believed was real-- but it wasn't. Wraiths can feel the living- but not hear and really see. So with new residents, he transferred leaching from one source to another, thinking his family was still alive after years of roaming alone. Full of misplaced hatred and nowhere to put his grief."

"So he was going to kill the barbersons, too?" Kenna worried a bit.

"Bit by bit from madness- sure."

"So... What did you do?"

"Laid him to rest. With his family, where he belonged all along." Geralt’s eyes flickered to the nearer of the two swords- the silver blade.

"That’s-- wow." And the more she thought... "...And you get only three hundred coins for all that?!"

Geralt snickered lightly, 

"Three hundred was generous. I've handled worse for less. This was a selfish child whittled away by an illness that took him from his family. Imagine a woman scorned by a lover, demanding eternal restitution."

"Oooo, that's messy." Kenna winced.

"I'd take on a hungry grottore anyday."

Kenna gawked flatly. Those things are terrifying. 

But Geralt reached back for his stein,

"I'm joking. Breathe, sweet thing."

Sweet thing? That was new and thrilling in its own right.

Kenna watched him from her perch, ever amazed at the ease which Geralt so willingly deals with such extremes of monsters.

“I think that’s a bit of a trend with you, isn't it?” Kenna recovered her backbone, “Taking on the worst of jobs that accost the body mind and spirit, and get paid nickels for it?”

“Long as I can get  a hot meal and a night’s rest out of it.”

“Not without the creepiest nightmares, I’d imagine…” Kenna shuddered off.

Geralt shrugged again, “One can wish.”

Kenna huffed, but wrenched at her neck in a shudder of nervous energy,

"Well geez Geralt, that's some heavy stuff. What on earth did I say that made you think about all that?"

Geralt joined her side now: looking out at the bar, leaning back, hip to hip.

"What I meant was... There's talent in reading people, all kinds. You can put yourself in someone else's shoes, and know how to relate. Makes people at ease. Anyone who meets you-- they’re better for it." He looks at her. "I meant what I said; the world needs more people like you. For what it’s worth, the more there is of you-- the less there are of monsters like that."

Kenna hadn’t considered that connection- specters did start out as souls with flesh and blood at one point. The compliment surely meant more when Geralt spelled it out so graciously.

 There was no doubt in her mind now- hearing how nobly Dandie constantly bragged on this Witcher. As if her own little talks here and there didn’t confirm it, Geralt was always surprising her, tale after tale. Humanizing him all the more to her.

With a smarmy brow lifted, Geralt passed the mug to his lips again,

"You also asked me if I get stiffed often for payment. Had to think about that too. Would you believe me if I told you there’s only one person who's ever asked me about that before?"

In a whole lifetime, only one friend? "Really?"

As soon as she’d asked, Dandelion bellowed out some rousing opening liner to a shanty. He was really putting in the effort now- to announce the arrival of some fisherman’s party that he recognized coming in the door and set to immediately boost their spirits after a long day. Geralt pointed the bard out with a silent finger, perfect timing. 

Of course–Dandelion had been concerned, the moment she walked in the room. Kenna softened to know his eye out for Geralt wasn’t coincidence.

"Imagine my surprise... To learn you two found each other." Geralt muttered.

"Looks like we share a knack for picking up stray witchers."

Geralt huffed a small bit through his nose; a smile teasing the edges of his eyes. They wrinkled  in little, soft lines.

"He's insufferable and rarely shuts up when I need him to... But he's a good friend. Best I've had in a long time."

Kenna smiled again, happy for the turn of fate. The odds of her acquaintanceship between a bard and a monster hunter on separate instances to merge so perfectly could only be a happy accident.

Kenna held out a small hand as he might to one of his formal business prospects, more to tease than offer a real truce

"Well, if you'd like- make it two, Geralt. You'll have my ear when you need it; and I'll come set your bullies straight at the pub anytime you want. Deal?" 

But Geralt clearly had other intentions on the receiving end. His gaze flickered for a moment, surprised to catch her open hand. Yet the act brought a wider grin to his face, which was a welcome sight. 

Geralt took her hand of course, but lifted it for a quick, polite kiss instead of a shake to seal the invitation.

"Deal.” he agreed. 

Stifling that flip in her heart very quick, Kenna turned interested,

"So that's a yes on the bully-fighting? Better polish off my fisticuffs."

"If I'm ever going to let you fight, you're using a blade. Not glorified punches." Geralt countered.

"Hope you plan on teaching me,” she coughed out a laugh. “I've never used one."

Geralt sighed with a flutter of an eye roll, "You and Dandelion both. What am I gonna do with you..."

Kenna couldn’t resist;

"Swordplay, it sounds like~"

Geralt’s sharp eyes flared, sights fixed on her from a half submerged sip from his stein. Doubt, dipped with interest- clearly wondering if he heard her right. 

Kenna smirked at being able to catch him off guard. Dandelion was right about him appreciating a bit of quick wit. 

"I'll start restocking your cache and be out back if you need me." 

Kenna passed across him to grab his side pouch perched on the ground where he kept his elixir reserves. As always, that was her usual forte beyond serving up a meal he’d enjoy. Before crossing him again, she remembered to snag a couple apples from the top rack dangling from the bartop.

"Gotta check in on the ladies, too. M’sure Dandie will wanna hear your ghost story.”

“Oh gods forbid.” Geralt scowled playfully. “I’m not giving him any more ideas for his songs.”

“Oh he’s got plenty already. See ya.” Kenna turned and slipped out from the bar. 

– And what to her luck, her batch of celandine was just the right, toasty color on the back stove. 

“Perfect timing, Roach,” Kenna called to the mare across the way, “Come get a treat, sweet girl~”

Roach perked up and trotted her way over, head shoved under the awning and ready for the herbalist’s touch. She may think the lady’s pot always smelled weird in that tent of hers, but Geralt spoke nicely about his new little friend, Kenna. Wherever they went, Roach always had the suspicion the Path would lead right back to this one…

FIN

#ASoL:Witcher #masterlist #geralt x ofc #geralt x oc #herbalist oc #my work #my oc #game Geralt is top tier #henry cavill #the witcher fanfiction

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Silver and white

Geralt of rivia x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: swearing, fluff, protective Geralt, sad reader, yennefer vs Y/n dynamic!

A/n: I'm just laying in bed and I just decided to write this 🤣

___

"He doesn't love you, you know that." Yennefer said, Y/n had her back turned to her. She was clenching her fists, ready to attack this bitch. How dare she!? Y/n and Geralt have been traveling together for how long now? Then Yennefer shows up and she thinks everything is gonna be all good? Like Geralt is gonna run up her ass the minute she shows her face?

"His friendship means more to me than life, he doesn't have to love me. I love him, and that's what matters." Y/n whispered, but I still echoed through the empty room.

She turned to Yennefer, Yen could see the pain and hatred in her eyes, and she loved it. She was hoping Y/n would slip up, just enough to make Geralt turn his back on her.

Yen took a couple of steps forward, they were a couple feet away from each other. Y/n looked her up and down, waiting for some more insults.

"He could never love someone like you!" She yelled, making tears fill Y/n's eyes. She clenched her fist again.

Yen suddenly felt as if she's lost all control of her own body, she tried to move but she couldn't.

"No no no, Yennefer. you see, Geralt and I have this relationship, I'm sure you wouldn't understand with your whole "Fucking every man in your path" thing you got going on here. But Geralt and I are close, it's none of that foo foo shit. We protect what's ours, in that case, each other."

With that she waved her hand and Yennefer was sent flying across the room and hit the wall with extreme force.

Y/n went outside and stopped by a small river, she bent down and picked up a rock, skipping it across the water.

"Is she right?" She asked herself.

"Is who right, Y/n?"

The thundering voice behind her made her jump, she spun around and was nearly knocked to her ass by how close he was.

"Geralt!" She said.

His eyes were still black from his hunt, he furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Y/n didn't want to say anything. She knew her White wolf cared for Yennefer, and she respected that.

"I.... nothing is wrong. Im perfectly fine."

He smiled and brushed her hair back, shaking his head. The elixir was finally weary off and his eyes were returning to the beautiful yellow.

"You're not a very good liar, Y/n"

He rested his hand on her shoulder gently caressing her neck with his thumb, Geralt knew just a small hint of affection would get her to spill her darkest secrets.

"It's Yennefer." She said, just barely above a whisper.

He knew it had something to do with her, he understood they both hated each other. This hunt was just supposed to be Geralt and y/n, but Yennefer had to show up out of the blue.

"What did she say?" He asked in a gruff voice.

Her eyes became glossy as she shook her head, he slowly pulled her in to his embrace. Geralt's warmth was as always so comforting, his black shirt is soft over his broad chest. Y/n melted when his arms wrapped around her, the sound of his heart beat makes her feel safe.

"What is-"

"I love you, Geralt." Her words came out as a whisper.

She half expected to give her a grunt in return, or to pull away, or to give her a speech on how loving him is dangerous. But he didn't. Instead his grip on her tightened and his head came to rest next to hers. His lips nearly touching her ear, Geralt's words nearly making her explode.

"I know, Y/n. And the witch told you I didn't feel the same? That I could never love someone like you?"

She nodded, her tears soaking into the front of his shirt. Geralt pulled away, looking down at her as he caressed her cheek.

"She wouldn't know love if it smacked her upside the fuckin head. When I look at you I see someone I need to protect, someone I would give my life for."

He pressed his lips to hers, pulling her up against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

The suddenly heard someone or something crashing through the woods. Geralt stepped in front of Y/n, protecting her from what was coming and pulled out his sword. Yennefer stumbled out of the bushes looking like she was attacked by a bear.

"Geralt, I've been looking everywhere for you! Y/nearly killed me!"

He raised his eyebrows, faking surprise. She ran up to him nearly wiping out in the rocks, she grabbed his arms and gripped him tight. Y/n was still behind his large frame, to were Yen couldn't see her.

"She's gone mad, if we don't leave she'll try and kill me again. Geralt you need to protect me."

Y/n then stepped out from behind the large man, Yennefer stumbled back acting as if she was afraid for her life.

"Geralt." She said. "Geralt! She used her magic to throw me against the wall!"

He looked at her over his shoulder in surprise, sending her a smirk.

"You have magic?"

"Y-yes, but I don't use it often."

"GERALT!" Yennefer yelled. "She nearly killed me!"

"Someone should." He grumbled.

"W-what!?"

He got close to her holding his sword to her neck, Yennefer's eyes filled with fear.

"How could I ever love someone like you?''

Yennefer's heart was beating so fast, she didn't have her magic to protect her. She didn't know how to get out of this.

"Please, don't kill me."

He got closer till she could feel his breath on he face. Her body stiffened and she started shaking.

"Run. And don't you ever come back."

Yennefer spun around and took off up the bank and though the trees, she didn't know where she was going but she was getting the hell out of there.

Geralt turned back to Y/n who was watching the water, he took in the silence and headed over to her.

Geralt wrapped his arms around y/n, pulling her close.

"Mine."

THE END ❤️

I hope you enjoyed!

#geralt of rivia x reader #fyp #fanfic #foryou #foryoupage #x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivera #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x fem reader