✨Witcher of the Night | Geralt of Rivia (HIATUS) ✨
  • Reads 196,213
  • Votes 5,499
  • Parts 53
  • Time 22h 36m
  • Reads 196,213
  • Votes 5,499
  • Parts 53
  • Time 22h 36m
Ongoing, First published Apr 17, 2020
Mature
| Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader | THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER

💞💞💞💞

'Written in the second point of view when the story starts.'

There has always been one earth for her. 

Being exposed to different types of fantasy and comic universes in the year of 2020, she was sure it was still earth after drowning beyond the deep depths of water she has hardly remembered. Her thoughts filled with guesses that it was Switzerland or any other Europe country that made her imagine that everything was all just a dream. 

Until such frightening moment, some monster began to chase those dreams of hers that turned into a nightmare. 

A nightmare that would surely be worth the monsters under your bed after bumping into a white haired colossal man who she believed was human.

Those glowing, golden eyes met hers; depondent and weary. His appearance giving her ideas over fantasy characters she knew in her world. 

He was a knowledgeable man who could help her get home. Peculiar as he may seem for her point of view. 

A witcher she eventually has gotten to know more than just his moniker. A monster-slayer who has killed your beast who came hunting you down in the forest.

However, what if their fates collided because of the mere fact that her destiny may bring such miracles for the lone witcher? 

Such phenomenon that no other person can give for him nor can never have from any other woman. 

His dimension and hers---their world collided when it shouldn't have even happened from the start, bringing more chaos and monsters to his world and everyone.
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Geralt passed through the inn's common room and heard another strange bard singing the first song Geralt had heard about the strange Cat witcher, and Geralt hurried out. "Fucking Cats." "Well, that's just rude. We've only just met," came a stranger's voice. Geralt swirled around and his retort died on his tongue when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent just as he saw the dark brown curls and a Cat medallion. With a growl, Geralt lifted the Cat by his leather armor and slammed him against the stable wall. "What have you done to Jaskier??!" The Cat hissed. His eyes went from the white hair to the golden eyes, and ended on the Wolf medal on Geralt's chest. "Geralt of Rivia." He relaxed in an almost insulting kind of way and lifted an eyebrow knowingly. "So that's how it is." Geralt growled. "You reek of him. It was you. The songs he wrote. Where is he?!" The Cat smirked. "Well, you didn't think you were the only witcher worthy of a song, did you?" Geralt growled. "Since when does a fucking Cat travel with a bard?" "Why not?" the Cat said, mock puzzled. "He's charming, and he was writing songs about me, making me sound so heroic. It's been nice to share the Path with someone. The Path, the ale... and the bedrolls." ... After the whole mess of the dragon hunt, Geralt of Rivia has lost a lover, gained a daughter, and now his bard was singing songs about another witcher. Wait, what? *His* bard? Where had that come from?? -- This fanfic is set in The Witcher Netflix TV series, after episode 6 of season 1. It ignores season two almost completely and sets Geralt on a merry chase to self-discovery and his nemesis: talking about his feelings. Warnings: the story contains rude language, canon-typical monsters and violence, nudity, shameless ogling, mild-to-medium angst, and dysfunctional relationships. Image source: https://www.deviantart.com/yakichou/art/Geraskier-852512449
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Afraid Not

2 parts Complete Mature

"If we are to use you as bait to lure our possessed Witcher here to Kaer Morhen, do you understand what that entails?" Jaskier nods, but he remains quiet. A slight tremor works its way into his right hand, and Yennefer smirks at its appearance. The sorceress scoffs faintly, and she approaches him. There is something in her violet eyes, like a spark that proceeds the wildfire it causes as she comes close, her voice growing low and sharp. "He will hunt you," Yennefer whispers, as though she is reciting some sort of spell, bewitching as she is sardonic, "You cannot hide from him. You cannot outrun him. You cannot overpower him." Jaskier swallows, but he does not waiver. Not even as Yennefer begins to circle him. Despite the tears in her dress and the dirt that clings to her form, she remains as entrancing as ever. It's as though she's a fever dream Jaskier can only spot from the corners of his eyes. Her words come to Jaskier like a mirage, a silhouette muddled in fog. The only solid sensation coming from her being the race her words bring to his heart. "You will be at the Witcher's mercy." That should scare Jaskier. But it doesn't.