THE WITCHER one shots

A Myth (Geralt x f!reader)

Warnings: strong language, slight gore/mentions of blood, insinuated smut, mentions of nudity

not requested, just something that came to mind!

•••

You rubbed the back of your hand under your nose, further smearing blood across your face before spitting a gob of it into the grass somewhere.

The werewolf lie dead a few feet away, and you were relieved. It'd been a feisty one.

You gathered up your dropped possessions (just a few knives and a sword) and slowly made your way back to your horse, Otto, lugging the werewolf corpse over.

"C'mon boy. Let's go collect our coin."

He whinnied softly, and started trotting back towards town as rain started to pour down.

•••

•••

Geralt walked down the steps from his room at the inn, and into the tavern. He had to fight not to roll his eyes as the room went silent as people noticed who he was.

He approached the innkeeper, heavy footfalls echoing loudly in the silent space.

"Who do I talk to about the werewolf bounty."

The innkeeper was silent for a moment, hesitating as the door behind the tall Witcher swung open.

"Looks like someone beat ya to it, Witcher. Should have gone hunting when you first arrived."

Geralt's stern brow furrowed as he turned around, to be greeted by the sight of a hooded figure much — much — shorter than him dragging a bloody sack towards him and the innkeeper. They dropped it and Geralt saw a furry clawed hand covered in blood slip out.

"Pay up."

The innkeeper paled. "How did you kill it? You?!"

Geralt hated to admit it but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the sound of your voice.

"Pay up. Deal's a deal."

Suddenly, the innkeeper's face flared up red.

Before you realized what was happening, the fat man had tore your hood back from your face, revealing your flowing locks and face. You stepped in shock and anger.

"A woman! You bitch! Trying to swindle us out of our hard earned money!"

He went to lunge at you, hands outstretched, but before he could get close and before Geralt could even draw his sword your own silver blade was pressed to the fat innkeeper's fat neck.

"Hard earned money? As long as I've been here the most you've done is sit on your ass and yell at your staff and patrons. Your lazy ass has barely worked a day in your life, hasn't it? Too spoiled and lazy to do any thing other than sit on your ass and have other people do things for you, you ugly cunt."

The man spluttered, face red with either anger or embarrassment, Geralt couldn't tell.

"Now, where's my coin?"

The innkeeper reached a shaky hand into his apron pocket, and pulled the sack of coins out, holding it out to you. "Take it. Take it and never come back, Bitch."

You ripped it from his hand and turned around, gliding out the door.

Geralt followed after you.

"Wait, girl," he growled, positioning himself in front of you. "Who are you?"

For the first time, Geralt got a good look at your eyes.

Flashing amber, same as his.

"Impossible," he muttered. "Girls can't be Witchers. What trickery is this?"

You wrapped your fingers into his cloak and yanked him into an alleyway.

"Speak a little louder, Witcher, I don't think the whole continent heard you yet."

"How do you exist?" Geralt growled, stepping closer and glaring down at you, an attempt to intimidate you into telling him your secrets.

"My mother sold me. They wanted to experiment on turning girls into Witchers. I was the only one out of thirty four girls to survive."

"I—"

"Shut up. I've had to spend the last few decades proving myself because stupid men think I'm weak. And I've got other Witchers like you doubting my capabilities. I thought me dragging my beaten, bloody, half-dead body off the ground covered in the corpses of my dead sisters was me proving myself. But apparently I'm going to be proving myself my whole terribly long life. So no, I'm not taking any bullshit from any Witcher or worthless human or you. So stay out of my way."

You forced him back and turned to storm down the alleyway.

"Wait."

A large hand wrapped around your bicep and tugged you backwards.

"You're Y/N. I thought you were a damn myth, girl. I never believed that they tested on little girls... Always thought the tales were false. I knew they had tried turning girls into Witchers, but none had ever survived so I—we all thought that they gave up after all ten had died."

He heard you inhale slowly. "You thought wrong."

"Obviously."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes before looking up into his.

You both stared at each other for a long moment, the only sound you could distinguish was your own heart beat, thumping in excitement in your chest as heat started to pool in your lower belly. Geralt was a ruggedly handsome beast of a man and you'd be a fool to not be attracted to him.

And Geralt was not a blind fool either; you were the most attractive woman he's come across in a while - the only one he's ever felt this sudden, (extremely) heated attraction to. His eyes trailed down your face, your delicate throat, half-hidden by your now-lopsided black cloak; your chest heaving with the breaths you took to calm yourself from your earlier anger but now he sensed it was from excitement.

He stepped closer to you, leaning down so his forehead was a hair's width from yours, his messy silver hair tickling your face.

Your warm breath coasted across his face and suddenly he couldn't control himself.

His mouth descended on yours, arms wrapping around your back like a steel cage, pressing you against his much larger body.

You kissed back just as freely, arms winding around his shoulders. You gasped as he lifted you upwards, wrapping your legs around his broad waist. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He pressed you against the wall of the inn behind you, all the while holding you tightly against himself.

"Do you have a room?" You gasped against his jaw, pressing wet kisses down the side of his throat as he practically growled in pleasure.

"Yes," he rumbled, setting you down as you both stumbled into the inn, hands roaming over each other's bodies.

"Hey!" They innkeeper warned. "I told her not t—" before the fat man could finish his sentence a sharp knife embedded itself in the wood above his ugly head startling him into silence.

Geralt grabber your outstretched hand, and tugged you up the stairs to the small room he had bought for the night.

You awoke the next morning naked, in a messy bed with a heavy arm around your waist, Geralt's  large hand resting across your stomach, just below your breast. His chin rest on top of your head, broad, naked chest pressed to your back.

"The innkeeper's going to kick us out soon."

Geralt chuckled deeply. "He'd sooner saw his own stones off than piss you off again."