IMPORTANT NOTE: It seems Tumblr ate the original ask that went along with this particular request. However, I did save the wording of the request:
"Hi! Hope I'm not bothering you! I was wondering if you could write some more yandere Geralt? Something like the reader narrowly escaping Geralt maybe? completely up to you! Thank you for your time and have a nice evening 🙂"
Pairing: Yandere!GeraltX Female!Reader
Fandom/Franchise: Witcher
Author's Warnings: Please use caution and check triggers before reading.
[Part One Here] [Part Two Here]
Geralt pushed the horse to its limits. Hooves pounded hard against the mountainside to get to the real Roach. To get to you. His heart dropped when he realized you found a loophole. He shouldn’t have told you who you were.
That was the last time he could trust you with anything honest. He should’ve known better. Fae were born with chaos and mistrust weaved into their bones and blood. When he had heard about you, his eyes rolled. Another creature terrorizing a small village for its own gain. How many times has Geralt heard this exact tale before?
But, when he saw you, everything changed.
Your eyes were pools of something angry and wicked. Every word from your mouth begged for subjection from others. It wasn’t that you demanded order. You wanted to shape the world according to your will. It was intoxicating. While your fae magic was immune to him, your wicked beauty was not.
Fae were hard to find, harder to bend. The only way to accomplish it was to either bond or know the fae’s true name.
The history of fae was mostly lost. Unfortunately for you, Geralt had the burning memory of killing Renfri. He didn’t quite believe the priestess who told him that Geralt was so powerful that he could bend a god. Not until he was within inches of you. And he smelled the same blood he spilled before. Then, he tasted it. He was certain.
You were Lilit, or some kind of reincarnation of the goddess that survived the massacres and war.
Geralt didn’t know what you knew. How addictive your blood could be. He tied you to his horse. To chairs. To him. To anything within ten feet of him to keep you in his sights. Anything to taste you.
Arriving at Kaer Morhen didn’t go smoothly. He sunk his blade into two of his own brethren after they made plans to take your wings. Still, they had a point. Up until this point, you made no less than five attempts to escape.
He had to take your wings. Geralt justified it like he did with everything else. The world wasn’t safe for you. He knew better, he could keep you safe. Your wings were a dead giveaway anyways.
But now, you flew across the mountainside with Roach and far away from him. Roach’s hooves dug into the stone and packed dirt as if he was made for greater things than being a Witcher’s steed. You trusted in that speed when you took him from his stable. It carried you deeper and lower down the mountain.
Were there monsters here? Of course, but it had to be better than tethered to Geralt for eternity.
The wild thumping of Roach soon met with another.
“Y/N!” Geralt finally caught up to you. Before you could swerve the reins, a creature saw its master. Roach slowed as Geralt rode past and blocked your way. You almost fell from Roach’s back, but balance had always been your biggest strength.
“Let me go!” You demanded.
Geralt cracked a smile. A real, manic smile. He laughed. The sight of it looked wrong. Like you asked a fish to climb a tree or worse, that you asked the gods to play fair.
“Now, why would I do that? Be rid of my own bride? My fate that sits in front of me?” Geralt made easy work of grabbing the reins from you. He pulled Roach closer, making your thighs touch. His breath grazed your cheek like a razor. “I told you. I will have your name. I will have your body. And we will be mated.”
“For what purpose?!” You snapped back at him bravely. Your voice faded into a whisper. “Witchers don’t believe in fate.”
“This one does.”
“Since when? Who’s blood did you spill for your thinking to be so gnarled?”
There was a threatening silence. One that seemed to stretch seconds into minutes. His gaze caressed the bridge of your nose, the furrow of your brow. His eyes were so dilated, too focused in on you. His breathing had settled from the hardened riding. Yours had too. His hand slowly traced the edges of your armor.
“I couldn’t handle what I did to Renfri.” He quietly started.
“I am not her.” You quickly retorted. Geralt shot you a look.
“I never said you were. I couldn’t handle what I did to Renfri.” He started again. “So, I killed Stregobor, a powerful mage who had been after Lilit. He wanted to prevent the end of days, he said. Stregobor only ever fought for his own power, his own ambition. He’s frightened of women with power.”
Geralt slid his hand up your arm. “It was a curious domino effect. I killed Renfri. Then, Stregobor. The Brotherhood decided to come after me and send their own. Killed them, too. I heard more mages were under a fae’s spell…and that’s where I found you.”
“Those poor men.” You smiled, remembering how Geralt ripped them limb from limb.
“I almost killed my own brothers for you.” He furrowed his brow. “I can’t stop.”
“You’re obsessed with the idea that I am this Lilit.”
“You are Lilit.” Geralt said with an unsettling certainty. “You came into being by one of the other princesses who survived Stregobor and you don’t remember because you took the form of who worshipped you last.”
“You are... this is...” You breathed harder. His gripped your wrists.
“Fate.” Geralt answered. “I am your shield. You are the sword.” He cupped your jaw, pulling your mouth close to his. “And I will make the world burn, bleed, and rot for you.”
Border/Divider Credit @pixopix
Witcher Masterlist
