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ro-is-struggling · 5 months

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The Princess and The Wolf || PART 2 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: All she wanted was to show Geralt that she could be part of his world, that it was worth putting in the effort to build a future together. He was her true home, the person she belonged to, the one who gave her life purpose, and all she wanted was to share the rest of her life with him. But things were not so simple and the differences that separated them were far too many.

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, a bit of jealousy and sexual tension, banter, mentions of blood and canon typical violence, angst at the end, my poor knowledge of the saga probably

English is not my first language

Word count: 15.500

Notes: the part with the hirikka is definitely not there just cause I thought it was cute and I got pissed off when the dude killed it in that episode of season 1, nope, not at all…ALSO the show is not very clear with the whole signs thing so everything that I wrote about them is based off things I read about the games and my own imagination, so sorry if it’s wrong/not true to the story

READ PART 1 HERE

"I want to go with you."

The words escaped so casually from the young woman's lips that Geralt had to ask her to repeat them to make sure he had heard correctly. It was the middle of the night and he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing on his eyelids, but refusing to give in for some reason. He wasn't expecting to hear those words. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear her speak at all since he thought she was still asleep, so her voice alarmed him.

"Go with me where?" The witcher mumbled his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes opened to look at the princess resting beside him, tucked into his chest as her fingers nervously traced the lines of the scars on his chest.

"I don't know," she shrugged, still not returning his gaze. "Wherever you're heading next."

Geralt frowned slightly. They had known each other for quite some time. Since he had helped her escape from her family he had shown up countless times at her door, seeking the aid of her healing powers and, more importantly, her company. And in all that time she had never shown any kind of interest in what he did outside the walls of her home. She asked him questions, sure, and constantly scolded him for being "too irresponsible" —her words, not his—, but she had never expressed an interest in joining him on his travels.

That was kind of the point of their implicit agreement, so he didn't really mind that much. She was his secret helper, the motivation that drove him to do his job better. It was all worth it if at the end of a contract he was compensated according to his work and effort and, most importantly, if he had the chance to stop by her house to restore his energy. Geralt had always seen their relationship as sacred, a parallel world in which he could take refuge when things became too complicated or overwhelming. It was why he had never thought of taking her along on one of his trips. And it was also the reason for his surprise at that request.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

The young woman shrugged again and was silent for a moment as she tried to decide on what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't know —she was well aware of the motivations behind her words—, but rather that she wasn't sure if she should express them so openly out loud.

"That's not an answer, sunshine." Geralt pressed her and she let out a quiet snort.

"I want to explore the world, see what other options I have. I thought that this place was all I needed, but lately I've been questioning it." She finally said, glancing up to meet Geralt's eyes.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Yes, in the last few months she had found herself questioning her decisions, wondering if perhaps the world had more to offer her. She was happy in her hut, living among nature, away from her family that had hurt her so much. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still hadn't found the true purpose of her life. She had managed to free herself from the oppressive clutches of her parents who wanted to impose on her a future she hated, and while that was an achievement in itself, she still couldn't imagine a clear future for herself. Well, actually she could, it just wasn't a very realistic future.

All she wanted was to be with Geralt.

It was something that took her time to accept, partly because she knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew that Geralt was a... complicated man, with an unconventional lifestyle. She also knew that they were almost complete opposites. He was a man of great experience, gained after living years on the continent, and she was a young runaway princess who had lived her entire life controlled by the desires and expectations of others, and only now had the ability to choose and control her destiny. He was cold, calculating, capable of remaining calm even when faced with the worst of dangers, and she was impulsive and sentimental, often feeling things ten times as strongly as the common person. He was quiet and reserved, and used to living a wandering life, while she was cheerful and sociable, and desperate to find a place to belong.

But despite all the things that set them apart, she couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him. And she couldn't ignore the happiness that came over her every time he showed up at her door or the loneliness that haunted her when he left. Her days were miserable when she was alone, her mind always finding a way to focus on him again. She spent her time wondering where he was and what he was doing, worrying about his safety and health. She often wondered if he was also thinking about her and if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Waiting for his return was an agony that became more difficult the more time they spent together. The more she got to know Geralt, the more she fell in love and the more it pained her to see him go. The few days he used to spend at her home were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be with him at all times, to learn more about his world, to join him in his adventures, to be more than a refuge away from his daily reality. She wanted to share her life with him, and for him to share his life with her.

"I thought you liked it here." Geralt's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"I do!" She was quick to reply. "I just... I'm not sure this is what I want for my future. I feel like there's a lot more out there for me to explore..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain her feelings without revealing too much.

"And what makes you think that coming with me will help you find what you're looking for?" Geralt asked her and she shrugged again.

"It's a start. You travel all over the continent, what better way to explore the world than by being by your side?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, sunshine." The witcher sighed. Her eyes reflected the pain those words awakened in her and he felt horrible for saying them, but he knew it was for the best. The road, his way of life, was not meant for someone like her.

"Why not?" she murmured, barely containing the pout that was trying to form in her sad expression.

"Because it's too dangerous. I don't just travel the continent, I fight evil, dangerous creatures. I cant do my job if I'm worried about your safety."

"I'm not asking you to let me fight with you, I'm asking you to let me tag along and explore the world with you. I don't have to be near any kind of danger."

"Well, that's what Jaskier always says and he always gets dragged into danger."

"Would it help if I promised to keep my distance and always listen to you and follow your orders?" She looked at Geralt with an innocent face, batting her eyelashes and pouting to try to convince him. She looked so adorable that it was honestly hard for him to refuse her.

"He always says that too." He countered with a half smile that widened slightly at the sight of her annoyed frown. She always looked pretty when she was angry, that was the reason why most of the time he didn't listen to her scolding —he always got lost in her beauty.

"Why are you being so mean?" She accused him, sitting on the bed with her arms folded and a look of dismay.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being careful and protecting you."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need your protection?"

Geralt was silent for a moment, admiring her face in the dim light. He knew he was exaggerating, that it was entirely possible for her to travel with him without anything bad happening to her. But it was also possible that things could go wrong and that alone was enough to bring up his fear of losing her. His work —and his life itself— was somewhat unpredictable at times. He didn't always choose when to confront evil creatures. Sometimes he crossed paths with one by pure coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to avoid it. He had a moral obligation to act in such situations, so danger always lurked, following in his footsteps closely, waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. Geralt was used to it, it was his daily reality, the only one he had ever known - since his life before his transformation was not even a distant memory in his mind.

But it was not her reality. She had lived in a castle for most of her life and was only now beginning to be completely independent. She was not prepared for the kind of danger that a witcher's life entailed. Her little knowledge of medicinal and healing magic could not protect her. And if he failed at that too... Geralt didn't even want to think about it.

"Maybe," he said, in a calm voice, "but I need to protect you... I need to know that you're alright."

Her gaze softened as a warm sensation ran through her body. The sincerity in his voice made her want to smile. He cared about her, about her safety and well-being. He needed her. He sought to protect her because he didn't want to lose her and that was reason enough for her heart to race and her eyes to fill with illusion.

"I know you do and I appreciate it." She spoke, voice soft and posture relaxed. She reached up to stroke his cheek, gently moving a lock of hair from his face so she could look into his eyes. Geralt leaned into her touch in an almost imperceptible movement, unable to resist the warm caress of her fingers. "Everything that I have, I owe it to you. You helped me be free and I trust you with my life, not just to protect me but to guide me... to help me find my way. There is really no other person I could ask for something like this... there is no one I trust more than I trust you."

And just like that, the discussion was over. All Geralt had to do was look into her eyes —those beautiful warm eyes that brought him so much comfort and happiness— and he lost all ability to fight. His own thoughts and worries were replaced by the need to make her happy. All he wanted was to see that sparkle in her eyes and know that he was the cause of it, the reason she was smiling. How could he refuse her requests when she looked at him with such illusion as she spoke those sweet words to him? He was willing to do anything to make her happy, even if it meant throwing caution to the wind.

"You have to promise that you will never leave my sight and that you will do what I say without question."

The young woman's face lit up immediately, a big smile playing across her lips as she looked at the witcher with wide open eyes. She looked like a child who had gotten her wish fulfilled. "Is that a yes?"

Geralt sighed with resignation and nodded his head. She let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him as she repeated over and over how grateful and happy she was with his decision. A small, subtle smile tugged at his lips, feeling that comforting warmth run through his body as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He was worried about what might happen, but for the moment that didn't matter. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his and the kiss she planted on his cheek as a thank you. She was happy and that made it all worth it.

"Just don't make me regret it." He warned her and she shook her head.

"I promise I'll be good. You won't regret this, Geralt."

Geralt wouldn't say he regretted his decision completely, but he couldn't say he was happy either. He had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with her getting distracted every time she saw a pretty bird fly overhead and complaining about the long journey that never seemed to end —she didn't seem to realize that her presence had a lot to do with the slowness of their journey. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain completely either, which made Geralt worry more than usual about every step he took. While she listened to his directions and stayed in place when he instructed her to, she also took advantage of any moments of distraction —usually when he slept— to wander around the forest alone and without carrying a weapon to protect herself.

It wasn't all bad, though. Yes, she drove him mad with her songs to nature and her need to stop every time they came across a wounded animal, but Geralt couldn't deny that a part of him loved that about her. He loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face when a deer crossed her path or the sparkle in her eyes as she admired the sun setting over the river. There was an innocence in her attitude that captivated him. An amazement at the world around her that was so foreign to him, and yet so charming. After living so many years on the continent, he could not imagine experiencing such a fascination with the world. He admired it in a way, it reminded him of a time long ago, of a life he thought was buried in the darkness of his memory. It was part of her charm, part of the reason he couldn't seem to get away from her. She awakened the good in him, a light he thought he had lost after undergoing the mutations that turned him into the witcher he was today.

So, as much as he panicked every time she got too far away from him, he still wouldn't change a thing. Everything that made him groan in the daytime was worth it when she would curl up against him in front of the campfire at night, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the calm of the forest soothe her to sleep. It was actually embarrassing how much time Geralt spent admiring her beauty under the moonlight, watching her sleep peacefully curled up next to him as if she were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. There was something about nature and the outdoors that awakened a special glow in her, a magnetic aura that kept him from taking his eyes off her. So he stayed awake at night longer than he should, watching her sleep while his mind was lost in thought.

She was the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the last thing he thought about and dreamed about. Every night Geralt would give her a kiss on the forehead before settling down beside her. It was quick and soft so as not to disturb her sleep, but he needed it to know that she was real, that someone so wonderful had decided to follow him in his dark and tumultuous life. Every night, the witcher went to sleep thinking about her, how lucky he was to have her by his side and how important she was to him. He thought of the dangers that surrounded him and silently wished that nothing bad would ever happen to her. That was one of the recurring nightmares he had, returning one night to her hut and not finding her there. The idea of her relationship with him being what would ultimately lead to her demise haunted him.

Not being there to protect her from the evils of the continent was one of his greatest worries. Losing her was his greatest fear. So when he opened his eyes in the morning and did not find her by his side he jumped up as panic began to take over his body. He called her name several times, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the forest, but he got no response other than the sound of fluttering birds fleeing in fear of the disturbance. Geralt was preparing to set out to hunt whatever it was that had taken her, when the wind brought the melodious sound of her voice to his ears. He followed it through the trees and bushes, feeling his nerves calm as he listened to her laughter. She wasn't in danger, she was just being careless, as usual.

"Geralt!" she exclaimed with a smile as she looked up to meet her companion's white hair sticking out among the green bushes. "Thank the gods that you are here, I need you to help me move him."

The witcher looked at her in confusion for a moment, until he looked down at her lap where a badly wounded creature rested. But it wasn't just any creature, it was a hirikka that looked at him with big yellow eyes full of terror. From the size of the beast, Geralt guessed it was just a puppy, and since it wasn't attacking anyone he assumed it was well fed —though his benevolence could very well be just the effect of the young princess on the creature since she tended to have a special relationship with animals. Still, it had been careless of her to approach the animal, especially while he slept. If the creature had been adult and hungry, it could have been very dangerous for her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before Geralt could open his mouth. He didn't need to speak to let her know what he thought of her actions, she could read it in his face. "His cries of pain woke me up and I just couldn't leave him to suffer."

"So you walked away from the camp and tended to the wounds of a dangerous creature without bothering to even wake me up?"

"Oh he could never hurt me! Look at those big, adorable eyes! He wouldn't hurt a fly, would you baby?" she excused herself, petting the hirikka's head as if it were a dog.

"He could have hurt you if he was hungry." the witcher huffed, unable to believe he was having such a conversation.

"He's a baby, Geralt, and it's wounded. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself from a wounded animal."

"That's not the point. You risked your life wandering into the woods like that!"

"I'm fine!" She dismissed his concerns, completely oblivious to the panic that swept through him when he woke up without her by his side. "Now help me move him, we need to get him to the mountain."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hirikkas usually live around the mountains, right?" Geralt nodded, already guessing where the young woman's argument was headed. "That means that this poor little thing is far from home. He probably came here for food and then got lost and wounded. We need to find his family so they can protect him."

"Hirikkas are a really rare species, what makes you think he even has a family in the first place?"

"Well, he's young he has to have someone taking care of him." She said as it was obvious causing Geralt to roll his eyes.

"We passed the mountains two days ago, we can't just go back to search for a group of creatures that may not even be there in the first place."

"We can't leave him here alone either, he will die! You said it yourself, hirikkas are a rare species, if someone finds him they're definitely going to kill him!"

"Sunshine, we can't…"

"Please! We don't even have to get him to the mountains, just close enough for his family to hear his cries." She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pout on her lips. How could he refuse her wishes when she looked so adorable and vulnerable? It was a waste of time, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. She was too pure, too good for this world.

He knew how much she cared for the animals, the urge she felt to help them. According to the things she had told him about her life, the woods surrounding her old home had been her refuge. She hid there to escape the orders and hurtful comments of her family, finding more support in the wild rabbits and deers than in the people who lived in her castle. It was also the place where she had discovered her magical healing skills and the only place where she tended to use them. She had a deep connection with nature and Geralt knew there would be no convincing her to leave the animal alone to its fate.

"We'd have to backtrack two days of travel." He tried to reason with her, a last resort to see if he could get her to change her mind.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, just help me load him on the horse and I'll go by myself. You can go to the village and wait for me there."

"I'm not leaving you out here alone!" Geralt firmly stated. Then he let out a sigh of defeat. "You stay here, I'll go find Roach."

He made his way back to Roach mumbling to himself, unable to believe he had agreed to waste time backtracking his steps to help an injured animal. It was sad, yes, but normally he wouldn't stop for it. It's the law of nature. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and eventually you die. There was no point in worrying about things that were out of one's control.

But she cared. Even if it was an animal that inspired terror in most people. Even if it was a small, insignificant creature that no one would miss, she would. She still talked about the rodent she once rescued from the clutches of a hungry owl as if it was one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. She cared about everyone, even when no one seemed to care about her —her family had stopped looking for her long ago and her subjects had not been saddened by the news. She cared, and that was enough for him to care too.

"What am I doing?" muttered Geralt to himself as he adjusted the horse's saddle. "Wasting days of travel just for a wounded animal." Roach snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the reins in the witcher's hands. He took a moment to pet the animal, letting out an airy chuckle. "I know, I know, she's worth it." He added before setting off down the path to where she stood waiting for him. She had won yet again.

“Oh stop being so grumpy! It wasn’t that bad.” She exclaimed, playfully nudging at his shoulder in an attempt to get a smile out of the witcher. He had been silent for hours now, communicating with her through grunts and frowns. Sure, the rain that had caught them in the middle of their journey wasn't ideal, but at least they were close to town when the first drops began to fall from the sky. "For a person who lives on the road, you don't seem too used to riding in a little rain."

"I am, I just find it annoying when we weren't supposed to be out in the rain in the first place." Geralt grumbled and she smiled, happy that he was back to communicating verbally.

"You don't know that, something else could have slowed us down along the way."

"Yes, probably another wounded animal." he mumbled to himself, though she heard him anyway and gave him a punch in the shoulder that probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

"We saved a vulnerable creature from a terrible fate, you should be proud of that!" She insisted, pushing open the doors of the inn where they had stopped for shelter.

The warmth from the interior suddenly hit her, embracing her wet skin and making her realize how cold she really was. The cloak she'd worn to protect herself from the water didn't do much given the force of the storm, but she would never admit that to Geralt - to do so would mean agreeing with him and she wasn't about to do that, not in that at least. The inn's common room was full of people, some wet and tired like them, others dancing and singing, no doubt after having had a few too many drinks. There was a fireplace in the center of the room that provided warmth and illumination. Her eyes were lost in the glowing flames for a moment, wishing she could get closer to the fire to keep the cold from chilling her bones. But she gave Geralt a quick glance and knew she couldn't do that, not without him smiling victoriously at her. So instead she decided to approach who seemed to be the owner of the place to get a room.

"You stay here, he's not going to give us a room if he sees that look on your face." she said, disappearing into the sea of people before Geralt could defend himself against her comment —although he was fairly certain she had a point.

The inn owner seemed to be a kind man, though he looked overwhelmed with the number of visitors he was receiving. Apparently the storm had brought with it more people than usually passed through those roads and the man and his helpers struggled to accommodate them all. He was running from place to place, checking the available rooms at every turn and chasing after his workers to escort people to their quarters. The waitresses were also overworked, navigating the crowds of people to bring jars of beer and plates of warm food to the tables full of cold people. Taking a closer look at the state of the place made her begin to fear that she might not find an available room. She had no idea how far it would be to the next inn, but even if it was a couple of feet away, it would be too far for the heavy rain falling from the sky. If they had to go out and get wet again, she would have to put up with Geralt's scowl for the rest of the night and as cute as he looked when he was angry, she didn't feel like listening to his complaints.

“Letha! Could you please check if room ten is still available?” The man shouted, calling out to his maid, when she asked if they still had any rooms available. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a moment."

"Busy night, huh?" She tried to make small talk, finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

"Yeah, it's a miracle! I haven't had the place this crowded in a long time."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place."

"There have been strange happenings going on in this part of town that affected businesses like mine." The man explained with some sadness and insecurity in his voice. It was subtle, but enough to peak his curiosity. So she continued to question him in hopes that he would share more of that mystery with her.

"There have been strange disappearances, people vanishing into thin air leaving almost no trace of their passage through these lands. At first they were just travelers, so no one really noticed or cared, myself included. Until it started to happen a lot more frequently. Every couple of days someone would find some traveler's belongings scattered along the road leading out of town, but no trace of the person. Eventually word spread and travelers stopped using this road to come into town and both my business and neighboring ones were severely affected."

"Do you know what it is that is causing these disappearances? Do you have any theories?"

"People say the road is cursed, I've heard people talk about an evil witch and others claim it's a punishment from the gods, but no one knows what's really going on. The rest of the town doesn't believe us much either, so the mayor doesn't do anything about it."

"He's going to pay for that mistake," a waitress interrupted the conversation, leaving the empty tray on the counter as she leaned over the wood to join the conversation. "It's getting worse. Now that there's no more travelers, people from the town are starting to disappear. If he doesn't believe us now, he will soon."

The young princess wanted to continue investigating, but before she could ask about the recent disappearances, the maid returned to tell her that room ten was ready for use. She thanked her and paid for the night using the money she had earned selling her goods at the fair in the village where she lived. It was her way of compensating Geralt for the inconvenience caused without having to admit to his face that he was right.

"We have a room for the night, can you please change your attitude now?" She announced when she returned to him.

Despite her request, Geralt's frown became more prominent. Only this time his eyes were not on her, but on something that had caught his attention over her shoulder. She looked at him with a strange look on her eyes, but before she could ask him what it was that was bothering him now, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she met the face of a curly-haired man that had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He was cute, she thought, so she offered him a smile.

He introduced himself as Arlan, not wasting a second before showing his true intentions as he made a subtle bow while kissing the back of her hand in a flirtatious manner. He mentioned something about her beauty - how he had noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors since she lit up the room with her smile or something like that - a corny line, but one that could have been effective were it not for the fact that her heart already belonged to someone else. The man invited her to dine with him in a very respectful manner, and a part of her was tempted to accept his offer. After all, she wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention. But before she could utter a sound, Geralt cleared his throat behind her back to make himself noticed.

"She can't, she's busy. Goodbye." He answered for her in a much more serious and intimidating tone than usual. He fixed his gaze on the man, looking at him with that intimidating look he gave when he wanted to make sure no one bothered him. His yellow eyes flared with anger, his brow furrowed in annoyance. It didn't take long before the man fled in fright, muttering something about rescheduling for another time with no real conviction in his voice.

"Geralt!" the young woman turned to deliver a punch on his shoulder. "That wasn't very nice of you! Why did you do that?"

"He was being annoying, so I made him leave."

"No he wasn't, he was being nice and polite." She crossed her arms, looking at the witcher with confusion. She had never seen him act like this before. Grumpy and bitter, sure, hundreds of times, but there was something different about the way he reacted. He had been too quick to dismiss the man, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was holding back the urge to separate his head from his neck. It made no sense, the poor guy was just flirting with her, no reason to spark such a reaction from Geralt.

Unless...

"Is that jealousy I detect in those intimidating yellow eyes?" She laughed and Geralt let out a snort. "Are you jealous? Were you afraid I was going to leave you for him?" She was partially joking, taking the opportunity to tease him and see if she could get a smile out of him, but she couldn't deny that the mere possibility of that being true made her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"I'm not jealous, I'm protecting you from a bastard that wants nothing more than to defile your honor."

"He didn't seem like a bastard to me."

"We were outside in the pouring rain, sunshine. You're soaking wet and your clothes stick to your body leaving nothing to the imagination. That's all he saw when you walked into the room, not your smile or whatever lie he told."

Geralt didn't want to sound mean, but the truth was that she could be very innocent at times. She was unaware of the effect she had on others, especially when it came to physical attraction. Geralt saw the way men looked at her and didn't like it one bit. But she didn't usually notice those details, which made him want to protect her even more.

She wanted to scold him, but he gave her no chance as he took her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to their room. The moment the door closed behind them, Geralt instructed her to take off her wet clothes before she got sick. She let out a giggle as she took off her wet cloak, telling him that he should at least invite her to eat before asking her to do something like that.

"I mean, at least Arlan was willing to do that." She joked and Geralt gave her an unamused look.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, and I just made a joke. Lighten up a bit! You know it won't kill you to smile, right?" The witcher replied by tossing her the bag with the extra clothes she had brought, giving her a last glance before starting to change himself.

The young princess's eyes admired his naked torso for longer than was appropriate. She was used to seeing him like this, but she could never get used to the tingling in her stomach when she noticed the way the muscles in his back and arms flexed when he moved. It left her completely stupid for a few seconds, mind malfunctioning as the images of his body occupied the full capacity of her thoughts. She noticed the water droplets sliding down his skin, traveling down his scars until they disappeared at the line of his pants. That gave her the urge to reach out to touch him, to trace those lines with her own fingers, but the sound of Geralt clearing his throat brought her out of her trance.

With her face burning with embarrassment, the young woman blurted out a quick comment about how well the last wound she had treated was healing. It was a stupid excuse and not at all believable, but it was better than admitting that she lost her mind every time he took off his shirt. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew she was lying. But she didn't give him time to react, grabbing her clothes and disappearing for a much needed bath.

Geralt stood alone in the room, staring at the wood of the door with a small smile plastered on his face. She looked adorable when she was flustered and he was proud to be the reason behind it. It was a kind of vindication that put his jealousy to rest after having to endure the audacity of that man and her teasing in response. The unspoken thing they shared wasn't just in his head. She only had eyes for him, just as he only had eyes for her.

It was rather twisted of him to want her so much when he knew he couldn't –or rather, shouldn't— have her. Geralt knew that nothing good could come from him following his feelings. They were not meant to be together, they were far too different, with far too opposite lives. He would only end up hurting her either physically, putting her life at risk because of his profession, or emotionally, when reality would explode the fantasy bubble and force them to face it. He was not meant to settle down in one place and live a calm and happy life. Maybe at some point in the distant past he was, long before he went through the mutation process that had turned him into the witcher he was now. But he had accepted long ago that that life, the possibilities and paths he could have taken, had died the moment the mutations began to change his body. It made no sense to duel in the past, to fight against nature to force something that was impossible. It was a waste of time and energy.

Geralt had lived by that principle most of his life. However, when it came to her he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he decided to stay, if he left everything behind to follow his heart. Intoxicated by the scent of her hair and enraptured by the sound of her laughter it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that they had a future together, that their relationship could be more than fleeting visits and late night escapes to avoid facing the reality of the mornings. He would have to be extra careful on this trip, control his emotions so as not to give in to the fantasy.

By the time she returned, Geralt was waiting for her with a tray of food resting on the small table in the center of the room. There were two plates of steaming stew, some bread, and two jars of ale. She smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth spreading through her body from her stomach as she approached Geralt.

"What is this?" She asked him, sitting down in the free chair to better inspect the food.

"I thought we'd be more comfortable eating here, away from all the noise and the people walking around." He explained as he brought the jar of beer to his mouth. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyes before letting out a chuckle. "What?"

"You really don't want me around that man, huh?" He looked at her, but didn't answer, though she didn't need him to know the answer to her question. "It's a shame because now we won't get to hear the stories about this place and the details about the job I found for you."

"What job?"

She smiled at his curiosity and proceeded to tell him what little she had managed to get out of the inn owner about the strange disappearances threatening the village. They discussed the details as they ate, debating whether there would be any veracity to the man's claims or if they were all bullshit. She felt proud of herself for having been the one to discover the problem, happy to be able to show Geralt that her presence was not completely useless.

She could get used to his life, be more than his healer. She needed some time to get used to his rhythms, but she could be useful. She could get used to anything to be by his side, to share more than a couple of days with him and then miss him for months. If this trip had proven anything, it was that no matter where they were, she would always feel at home if Geralt was by her side. He was her true home, the place where she belonged. She had been going mad looking for her purpose, her place in the world, when in reality she had already found it. It was to be by Geralt's side, to heal him and protect him from all evil. He was the piece she was missing, the only one capable of filling the emptiness that weighed her down. She wanted to be with him, she needed him to feel complete, and she was willing to do anything to show Geralt that a future together was possible, that she could adapt to live in his world.

Another disappearance occurred that same night while the town slept, but no one heard about it until the next morning, after the storm had passed. Geralt spent the day listening to the stories and opinions of anyone willing to speak on the subject, which, honestly, were more than he expected. Having his sweet princess by his side helped people open up to him. Normally he used to appear too intimidating, but with her by his side everything was easier. She was so kind and caring when talking to people that no one could refuse to answer her questions. Geralt found it comforting to know that he was not the only one unable to resist her charms.

They were talking to a waitress about the rumors she had heard when a woman entered the inn. She immediately caught Geralt's attention because she looked visibly distressed. Her voice was muffled and in her trembling hands she held a cloth handkerchief that she used to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Apparently she knew the owner of the inn because she asked to speak to him personally and burst into tears in his arms when the answer to her question was negative. Geralt gestured to the young princess and they approached them to find out if the woman's grief had anything to do with their little investigation.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" She said in a soft tone so as not to upset the poor woman even more.

"Her son is missing." The innkeeper explained to them as he tried to calm the woman's desperate crying with gentle caresses on her back. "He went out last night and never came back home. She's been asking around town and nobody has seen him."

"Is it possible that he got lost in the storm?" Geralt asked and the man shook his head, assuring him that the young man was a skilled traveler and tracker who knew the town like the back of his hand.

"It was her! I told him it wasn't wise to go out... let someone else take care of her... but he didn't listen." The woman spoke between sobs emerging from the innkeeper's arms to wipe her tears with her handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, her? There was a woman?" The princess asked and the woman nodded her head. She then proceeded to tell them about her son's last moments.

Apparently he was sheltering their farm animals from the storm when he noticed a young woman standing in the rain. She had long, jet black hair that clung to her pale skin from the water. Her dress was dirty and had the edges of the skirt in shreds, as if she had been running through the forest and the fabric had been torn by branches and bushes. She looked lost and out of place, so the young man felt the need to help her. Her mother had objected to him inviting her to spend the night at their house, acting cautiously since rumors of the mysterious disappearances had only grown in recent months. So the young man told her that he would just make sure she was all right and accompany her to an inn for the night. She watched them disappear into the darkness from her kitchen window and that was the last contact she had with her son.

"I knew something was wrong." The woman sobbed. "She was just standing there in the rain, like she was waiting for someone to pass by and fall for her trap. I should have stopped him, I should have done more." The princess patted her shoulder in support, trying to do something to make the woman feel better —even though she knew nothing she could do or say would ease the pain of a mother worried about her child.

"You are a witcher, isn't there something that you can do?" The innkeeper asked and the woman looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was clear that she was so distressed that she had not been able to recognize the clear details that indicated that the big, strong man in front of her was not an ordinary human.

"I don't have much, but I can talk to my neighbors, the other people affected by this creature, everybody who believes it's a threat to the town and find a way to pay for your service... anything to find my boy and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Geralt named his price before the woman ran out of there to round up her neighbors, though he would have taken care of the problem even if they didn't pay him for his services. He then set out to walk through the town, visiting some of the places that had been mentioned by the locals in search of evidence, though he had a good idea what it was that was haunting the locals. The princess followed him closely, remaining surprisingly silent for a long time. She wanted to give him space to work, to let him concentrate and do whatever it was he needed to do to help the villagers. But after spending several minutes in silence, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, what do you think?" She eventually asked him as they walked down the road where most of the disappearances had occurred, just outside of town. "Any theories about what this thing is?"

"For what they describe, I'm almost certain it is a Bruxa." The witcher replied, leaning over the ground to inspect possible footprints. "And it has to have a refugee nearby."

"A Bruxa?" She repeated with a slight frown of confusion. She had never heard that term before. Truth be told, she had never heard of most of the creatures Geralt told her about. Her kingdom was small, quiet, they didn't usually have attacks from beasts of that nature. And if they did, her parents didn't tell her about it. In her kingdom magic and everything related to it were frowned upon, hence she had learned about her abilities from a servant girl who taught her in secret from everyone. From what she understood, magic ran in the family's blood —although it tended to skip generations—, but it had always brought trouble and misfortune, so it had been forbidden in the kingdom, leaving her completely alienated and unaware of the best stories and legends the continent had to offer.

"It's a type of vampire, very powerful, that usually takes the form of a dark haired young woman to lure people into its trap."

"So you know how to kill it? I mean, of course you know how to kill it, what am I saying!"

Geralt bit back a smile. "Silver does the trick, but we need to find it first."

He explained that they usually lived away from large conglomerations of people as a form of protection, but the fact that she always attacked on the same road made him think that she must be taking refuge nearby. So they wandered through the forest surrounding the road to the village, looking for any sign that might indicate the bruxa's whereabouts. But the creature was clever, it knew how to cover its tracks, so they spent most of the day walking around and only found a couple of drops of blood and drag marks that led them nowhere. Suddenly, the princess understood how she had managed to go unnoticed for so long. If she hadn't talked to the locals and listened to the sobs of that desperate mother, she wouldn't believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on there.

"I think we are not being smart about this." She broke the silence as her patience began to wear thin. "We are never going to find her like this."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired, partially intrigued by whatever it was she had in mind. It was interesting for him to work with her. Usually he did things alone, but her naive curiosity and sweet kindness provided a different look that changed his usual patterns.

"We know she's going to attack again, right? So we just have to make sure we are there next time to stop her."

"We can't predict who she will stack next."

"No, but we can lure her out of hiding... bring the food out here to her to tempt her and hopefully force her to make a mistake."

"So, you're saying we should use someone as bait?" Geralt looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised by her words, she didn't seem like the type of person who was willing to put others at risk for a greater good. Granted, he was going to be there the whole time and wouldn't let anything bad happen, but still, he couldn't believe that idea had come from the same young woman who had made him backtrack days of travel to help an injured animal find his family.

"Not someone. Me." She said almost casually, preparing to meet the witcher's firm refusal. He looked at her for a moment, thinking she was playing some kind of joke on him that he didn't find funny. But when he saw the determination in her eyes he had to intervene.

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous." His tone was serious as was his gaze, a way of letting her know that this time he would not give in.

"What other choice do we have? Wait for it to kill someone else? Wander aimlessly around the woods for eternity?" She tried to reason with him. They had been walking around there for hours without much success and, while this was not something she did often, she suspected that things would not improve even if they kept looking. The bruxa was smart and wasn't going to let herself be found easily. Waiting for her to attack again was not an option either. Geralt was just one man and there was too much ground to cover. And there was no way to predict who her next victim would be. If they wanted to end this quickly they would have to force her out of hiding.

"I'm not using you as bait, sunshine." Geralt growled.

"Well, we can't risk the lives of the people in town and you can't be the bait either because she will know what you are. I don't see any other option, Geralt."

"I'm not going to risk your life for this, forget it."

"My life would not be at risk, not with you there. I trust you, probably more than I should." She tried to joke to ease the tension in the air, but Geralt did not laugh. His eyes softened, however, touched by her faith in him. It warmed his heart to notice the admiration in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if she was sure he could handle anything. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him with her life, but he couldn't help thinking that part of her did it because she was too innocent and unaware of the real risks his profession entailed. That was the only way she could be volunteering for such a task.

"Sunshine..." Geralt's voice became softer, a subtle plea for her to reconsider her stance.

"I want to do it. I want to help you... I want to help the people in town." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out what she really wanted to say. More than anything else, she wanted to prove herself and show Geralt that his life was not incompatible with hers. Maybe she would need some training, but there was a place for her in Geralt's world. She knew it now and hoped she could prove it to him.

Geralt looked at her and once again knew he couldn't refuse her. He hated the way she was able to convince him of anything with a simple look. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and he would fall surrendered at her feet, willing to do anything she wanted.

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me that you'll listen to everything I say." the witcher sighed, defeated. "And I mean it this time. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Is that clear?" She nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. Several times in the past she had promised the same thing and failed to deliver. He needed to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, sunshine, there is no room for error in this."

The young princess then took one of Geralt's hands between her own. He was much larger than she was so that she had to use both of her hands in order to completely envelop one of his. She gave it a light squeeze and looking into his eyes as she said, "I promise to follow your every order this time."

It wasn't enough to loosen the knot that had formed in the witcher's stomach, but it was a start.

She lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed since she went to sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, so Geralt decided it would be best to get a good night's sleep. She had agreed with him, especially since she felt tired after the long walk through the forest they had taken. But the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep disappeared from her body. She still felt tired —the muscles in her legs complained from the exercise and her eyelids were heavy as if she hadn't blinked for hours—, yet she was unable to fall asleep. It was as if her own mind was refusing to rest, seeking to punish her for who knows what.

She was surprised that Geralt hadn't complained about her restlessness already. He was a light sleeper and usually the slightest movement would wake him up. Several times in the past she had earned grunts of annoyance and even forced hugs for her inability to sit still, but when she turned once more to look at him she noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing was relaxed. She could see half of his face thanks to the moonlight coming through the window, illuminating his features and making him look softer than usual. She always loved to watch him sleep. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to do so since she was always the one who fell asleep first. But on the rare occasions when he did fall asleep first, she loved to admire him in silence as he rested. There was something so special and intimate about it-the way his chest moved up and down with his soft breathing, how his features relaxed completely beneath the unruly strands of white hair that clung to his face-she simply couldn't take her eyes off him.

It usually brought her peace to see him sleeping so peacefully. She fought the heaviness of her eyelids as much as she could, wanting to take advantage of every second of those moments to admire his beauty in a way she couldn't when he was awake, but eventually sleep always got the better of her. Just looking at him being so comfortable and relaxed next to her was enough to silence any voice in her mind that deprived her of her sleep. So she turned her attention back to the man lying to her left in the hope that it would help her sleep as it always did. She ran her eyes over his face, admiring the way his eyelashes almost caressed his cheeks, tracing the shape of his nose and cheek bone. Down his defined jawline to his neck and then she became distracted by the scars that adorned his body. She had them memorized after healing his wounds for so long, to the point that she didn't need the moonlight to fully shine on his chest to locate them on his skin. Even in the dark she could visualize them in her mind.

Her eyes focused on the scar that adorned his collarbone. A long, thin line was all that remained of the deep cut she had had to heal. Her finger traced the textured skin as her mind was lost in the memories of that night. It wasn't the worst state he had been in when he had shown up at her door, but still his wounds were quite deep. She had first had to clean the blood that covered his chest in order to find them all.

She liked Geralt's scars. Not only were they a part of him that she couldn't picture him without, but they were also a physical representation of his history. He carried imprinted on his skin the moments they had shared together, an indelible sign that marked her passage through the witcher's life. And every time she saw them, she couldn't help but remember those moments.

“You can't sleep either, huh?” Geralt's hoarse voice took her by surprise, snapping her out of her thoughts. When she looked up she met the witcher's amber eyes watching her curiously. A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he noticed her embarrassment at being caught in that position. She removed her hand from his chest as if his skin was burning her fingers, feeling the blood from his body travel up to pool in her cheeks. Geralt had to restrain the urge to put her hand back where it was, already missing the gentle caress of her fingers on his skin.

"No." She replied in a small voice, refusing to look up to meet his face.

There were a few seconds of silence before Geralt spoke again. "Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"I don't know if scared would be exactly the word I would use, but certainly nervous. I guess, I don't really know what to expect and that makes me feel weird... but I want to do it, so you can't convince me otherwise." she hurried to say to make sure Geralt knew she was strong and determined.

The witcher sighed and there was another moment of silence before she worked up the courage to speak again, this time looking up to meet his eyes. "Are you? Scared, I mean."

“I suppose it worries me that you may get hurt in the fight.”

"Well, don't be. Everything will be fine, you are going to kill the bruxa and nothing bad will happen to me or the people in town." She tried to reassure him, giving him a small smile. Geralt appreciated the gesture, but wished things were that simple.

"It's not as simple as that." He sighed, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face so he could get a good look at her in the dim moonlight. "Things can escalate really quickly and go wrong... I'm not invincible, sunshine. It happened to me before and it cost the life of a princess too."

A sudden sadness came into Geralt's eyes. He was looking at her, but it was as if he was looking right through her as he got lost in thought. She wondered what kind of memories were flooding his mind. He never told her about that story and she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but regretted it at the last minute, choosing to comfort him rather than question him.

"I'm not completely useless, you know? Back at the castle they taught me to defend myself."

"Not from these creatures, sunshine." She could sense the concern in his voice. It warmed her heart to know that he cared so much about her. It almost made her want to give up, just to bring some peace to his troubled mind. But she couldn't, she had to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Reaching out, she let her fingers trace the line of his cheek bone. Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth of her caress. Then he rested his own hand on top of hers, trapping it in place so she couldn't pull it away. He needed that. He needed to feel her, her warmth, her affection, it helped him silence his thoughts.

"Would it help quiet your mind if you taught me some tricks to protect myself?" She asked him in a soft voice. "I'm a fast learner."

"Well, I suppose I could teach you about the signs. You have an aptitude for magic, so I'm certain that you will be able to conjure them."

Geralt slipped her hand from his cheek, but kept his hand on hers at all times as he briefly explained what the signs were and the uses they had. She listened carefully to every word, admiring the way his lips moved as he spoke. She loved when he told her stories of his adventures or explained details about his world, not only because she found his deep, monotone voice incredibly soothing, but also because it made her feel closer to him.

"I think the best ones to teach you right now are Aard and Quen. They are probably the most useful ones for protecting you from this particular creature." He explained, raising the young woman's hand in the air. "The form and position of your hand is very important when casting a sign. For Aard you have to have your fingers like this."

He pressed his palm against the back of her hand, positioning his fingers over hers. Slowly he bent her middle finger downward, leaving the other four aligned upward. The young woman couldn't help but notice the way Geralt's hand completely covered hers, making her feel smaller than normal next to him. The warmth of his skin felt good, comforting, it made her wish he would never move his hand away from her. She would live holding his hand if that were humanly possible. There was something about feeling his skin against hers that awakened a comforting warmth that spread throughout her entire body. It made her feel comfortable, at peace.

When she looked up, she found that Geralt's eyes were fixed on her face. The blood rushed to her cheeks once again, somehow feeling vulnerable under his watchful gaze. But she detected in them a special glow that let her know he felt the same peace in having their hands intertwined. And that put a small smile on her lips.

"This sign channels the energy of the air, so when you cast it you should focus on that... feel the air around you, how it flows, the way it makes the tree tops shake and your hair dance around you..." Geralt's voice gradually faded to a hoarse whisper. Instinctively he moved a little closer to her, their faces mere inches apart as he lost himself in images of her walking through the forest with a smile as her hair danced in the wind. His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the urge to kiss her. They looked so soft and inviting, so appetizing, as if they had been created just for him to kiss. But before he could act on his urges, her voice snapped him out of his trance, bringing him suddenly back to reality.

"What's the next one like?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was as if she felt sorry for ruining the moment, as if she felt compelled by the tension in the air to say something, but she really didn't want him to hear her.

Geralt cleared his throat before replying. "Quen is a protective sign, it can create a protective shield around you so I'd suggest you learn this one well. To cast it you need to bend your pinky finger, like this." He changed the position of his hand along with hers, helping her with his finger to bend her pinky.

"Can I try?" She sat on the bed to make herself more comfortable and Geralt followed. He placed his hand back on hers and guided her through the summoning process.

"Focus on your surroundings." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

Concentrating was harder than it seemed when she could feel the heat his body emanated and every breath he took. It collided against the sensitive skin of her neck, making the baby hairs on the back of her head stand up. Geralt had to know the effect his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure the entire inn could hear the way her heart was pounding rapidly, crashing violently against her chest. He knew and he was doing it on purpose, she was convinced of that.

"Close your eyes and visualize a shield of energy around you." He continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She listened to him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was almost impossible. Especially when she could feel Geralt's lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Then she felt a spark, a current of energy shooting from the joining of their hands. She flinched and opened her eyes, taking a moment to admire their hands before looking at Geralt to see if he had felt the same thing she had.

"You almost got it." He encouraged her. "Focus, sunshine, come on."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders before trying the conjuring again. This time she didn't seek to push the feelings that Geralt's proximity aroused in her. On the contrary, she used them. He was the only thing that mattered to her in that room, the only thing that existed besides her. He was her world, so why not concentrate on him? She let the warmth of his body envelop her, let the scent of leather and wet dirt that was characteristic of him assault her nostrils. She concentrated on the harmonious depth of his voice, letting the baritone sound travel through her ears and through her body.

She felt the spark once again, only it was much stronger this time. Her hand tingled and then she felt a rush of warmth shoot out of her. When she opened her eyes she found a layer of translucent white energy enveloping her and Geralt. It lasted only a few seconds because she broke her concentration, feeling incredibly proud of herself for successfully summoning the signal on her second attempt. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but ever since she was a child she had grown accustomed to hearing that she was clumsy and useless and couldn't do anything right, so she had gotten into the habit of celebrating even her smallest accomplishments.

"I did it!" The princess exclaimed with a smile, throwing herself into Geralt's arms. Her embrace took him by surprise, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of her body for a moment, enjoying the floral scent of her hair as he tried to burn every detail of that moment into his memory.

"Give me a couple of training sessions and I could take your job." She joked, exaggerating her merit, and earning a small smile from Geralt.

The plan was simple. The princess would pose as a lost traveler looking for directions in the hopes that her apparent vulnerability would force the bruxa to come out of hiding. Geralt would be following her closely, hiding among the trees and bushes so as not to draw attention to himself. Once the fight broke out, she was under strict orders to run to Roach and take cover in a safe area where he had marked the Yrden sign on a tree. If they were lucky he would manage to draw the creature's attention to him long enough for her to escape. He doubted it would follow her after that, the bruxa seemed to be too clever to risk entering an area protected by Yrden just to catch a girl.

Even though the creature usually preferred to hunt men —probably because they were easier to trick—, it didn't take long for it to appear on the trail just where the villagers said it would. It happened in the blink of an eye, and without much sign of its presence other than the sound of branches and leaves rustling near them. The princess was on edge, hyper-aware of every little noise she heard and every movement her eyes could see in the dim moonlight. She jumped in place when she heard the sound of a branch snapping, and turned to look for the source of the sound. She scanned the darkness with her eyes as best she could, but found nothing suspicious, so she returned her gaze to the front.

That's when she saw her.

She was tall and slender, with skin that looked like porcelain. Her long black hair hid her face, though she could feel her intense gaze locked on her. She was standing in front of her, separated by just a couple of inches, and the princess had no idea where she had come from.

She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal level as she spoke explaining her situation to it, hoping it wouldn't be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart or detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last thing she wanted was for the bruxa to discover the trap because of her poor acting skills.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened to you." The creature said with faked empathy, taking the princess by the hand. She thought about pulling free from its grip, but decided against it at the last moment, thinking it would be too obvious. Geralt was close by and she trusted him completely. "The village is far, you are not going to get there by foot until tomorrow morning."

The bruxa was lying. Her favorite place to hunt wasn't that far from the village and while it might be annoying to walk the distance, it was probably a two hour walk at most. The princess wondered how many poor travelers would have fallen into that trap, believing her words without knowing that in reality salvation was much closer.

"You look tired." The bruxa affirmed and to the princess's surprise, she began to feel the weight on her eyelids and tired body. "I have a place nearby, you can spend the night there and tomorrow you can continue your travel. There's food and a warm bed for you to sleep in."

She was neither tired nor hungry, but the black-haired woman's words sounded tempting. She almost had to fight the urge to accept her proposal, even though she knew that nothing but death awaited her there. The creature was probably using its charms on her, enchanting her into agreeing to go with it without making a scene and attracting the attention of the villagers. She knew it and yet she couldn't resist. If it wasn't for Geralt appearing at that precise moment, she didn't know what would have become of her.

"Run!" was all the witcher said to her as he separated her from the bruxa. His eyes were completely black and his skin was much paler than usual. She had seen him fight before, but never while in his full witcher form. It caught her off guard but she managed to pull herself together quickly enough to get away from the area before the fight really started.

She heard the echoes of the bruxa's screams as she ran. They were deafening and she honestly couldn't believe how Geralt managed to endure them at such close proximity. She had to make the effort not to look back, knowing that if she saw what was happening she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to go over and help him. When she reached Roach she noticed the mare was upset, neighing and whinnying as if she could feel the tension in the air and the fear the princess felt.

"Shh, shh, it's fine! Everything is going to be okay." She tried to calm her down, stroking her soft fur as she watched the fight unfold a few feet away. "Geralt has it under control."

Every word of encouragement she blurted out for Roach, was a word of encouragement for her as well. She knew that Geralt was a very experienced witcher who had probably fought and killed many beasts equally or more dangerous than that bruxa even before she was born, but she couldn't help but worry for his life as she watched the battle. The creature was fast and precise with its attacks, using its scream to stun Geralt whenever it was at a disadvantage. He was able to hurt her a couple of times, but it was nothing lethal so he only managed to infuriate her. And even though she was bleeding even more than he was, that didn't make it any easier to see him get thrown into the air by the bruxa's deafening scream.

In the midst of the battle, the bruxa tried to flee. It changed its human form, transforming into something that the princess could only describe as a bat, only much larger and more horrifying. It spread its long wings and lifted off, escaping from Geralt's clutches just in time. But it didn't disappear for long, as a few seconds later it flew towards him once again, swooping down like a bird determined to catch its prey. Geralt braced himself for the attack and almost succeeded in striking it in the torso with the silver sword. But at the last moment the creature flew up, circled in the air and descended again on the witcher. Only this time it used its scream to launch him a couple of feet away.

Geralt's sword fell to the ground away from his hand at the same time as his head hit a rock. The princess held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes, unconsciously taking a few steps to get closer to him. He was moving, so at least she knew he wasn't dead, but he looked really dazed. The bruxa was flying high circling him like a crow, preparing to attack.

"Come on, Geralt, come on!" She muttered in the darkness, taking a couple more steps. Her eyes went from him to the bruxa, watching its movements, and back to him. He was beginning to regain his abilities, but unfortunately the bruxa had decided it was time to finish him off. Even though Geralt was getting back up, there was no way he could get to his sword in time, and she didn't see anything else he could use to defend himself. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She ran at him, breaking the one rule Geralt had imposed on her.

She knew it was stupid and risky, but the adrenaline in her veins and the fear of losing Geralt clouded her thinking. She ran to him ready to assist him because she refused to stand still a second longer, watching helplessly as that creature finished him off. It was reckless and dangerous as hell, but what else could she do when the man she loved was in mortal danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to him that night because she did nothing to help him.

She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now that they were so close to starting to think about a future together. So she ran as fast as she could, reaching the center of the battle before the bruxa managed to get her claws on her beloved. She then cast an Aard signal, Geralt's words echoing in her mind as a wave of energy was expelled from her hand. She managed to knock the bruxa down a couple of feet away, probably because it wasn't expecting her to join the fight. However, the victory didn't last long as the creature got up and rose into the air, only this time she was its target.

She could hear Geralt's voice shouting her name in the distance, urging her to run for cover, but seeing the speed of the bruxa's flight she knew she wouldn't get very far if she tried to run. So she planted herself in place and cast the Quen signal, creating a protective field around her that she hoped would hold until Geralt could reach her. She struggled to maintain her concentration, pushing aside her fear of facing this beast. But even her best effort could not stand against the bruxa's powerful scream. The moment she opened her mouth, the young woman's shield shattered and she was thrown into the air.

She felt the way her body cut through the wind as she flew. The world around her became a blur as she moved at a speed unnatural for a human being. And then her body hit a tree and she fell to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her head that left her dazed and disoriented. She could hear Geralt's voice calling her name, but it sounded far away. She tried to get up, but her surroundings began to spin as soon as she moved. She felt a warm, sticky liquid coating her hair, but she didn't have the mental capacity to recognize that it was blood gushing from a wound on her head. She was too disoriented to recognize her own surroundings.

In the midst of the confusion, she was able to feel the bruxa's claws digging into her shoulders. As blurry as her vision was, she could make out the beast's face hanging over hers. She thought that this was going to be the end of her, that horrible image being the last thing she would see before she died. She thought of all the things she regretted, of all the experiences she had missed. And she thought of Geralt too. She thought about how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she hadn't been up front with him about how she felt. Maybe things could have been different if she had told him how much she loved him, but now it was too late.

The bruxa brought her face closer to her and the princess closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. But instead of feeling her teeth clinging to his neck, she heard it let out a pained whimper. Suddenly, she stopped feeling the weight of its body on hers or the sharpness of its claws on her shoulders. And when she opened her eyes she was met with Geralt's face, who was kneeling beside her.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her cheeks and heard the distant, muffled sound of his voice calling her name and asking her to stay with him. She tried to answer him, but her dazed mind was unable to utter coherent words. She felt cold and tired, the urge to close her eyes growing stronger with each passing second.

"Geralt..." was all she was able to utter before everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again it was already morning, she could tell by the sunlight streaming through the window. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Her head was throbbing and her vision was still a little blurry, although she didn't know if it was because of the sleep or her injuries. She tried to move, but regretted it almost immediately when she felt the muscles in her body twitch in pain. She let out a hoarse grunt in protest and felt the sound of someone approaching her. It was then that she realized she was back in her room at the inn and that the man next to her was Geralt.

"You're back." he murmured, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit, but I'll live." she answered with honesty, making an effort to sit up in bed. Geral helped her, reminding her to take it easy as he arranged the pillow to help support her back more comfortably. "What happened exactly?"

"What do you remember?"

She took a moment to think. She remembered being thrown into the air by the bruxa's scream. She remembered the hard impact of her body against a tree trunk and falling to the cold damp ground of the forest, but it was all a blur after that. She knew she had been scared, that she thought she would die and that one of her last thoughts had been Geralt, but she was missing a few key points that would help her connect it all into a coherent line of events.

"I remember being thrown around and hitting a tree, but not much after that." she finally said, skipping the part where she vividly remembered thinking about how much she loved him.

"That's because you hit your head," he explained. "You were bleeding a lot. I barely got to you before you passed out."

There was a hint of sadness and concern in his voice that made her feel bad for taking such a risk. She could almost feel the despair he had felt at that moment just by looking into his eyes. It made her want to apologize, though she regretted it at the last second. Why would she apologize to him? For risking her life? It was her life, so his opinion shouldn't matter. For hurting herself? It wasn't as if she had done it on purpose. Besides, she wasn't sorry for what she had done. He was in trouble and she stepped in to help him. Even if she had ended up with more serious injuries —or even died— she wouldn't have cared as long as she knew he was okay because of it. His safety was always her top priority, whether it was when he arrived at her front door injured, or when they were in the middle of a battlefield. Her purpose in life was to be by his side to take care of him, so she couldn't let him die at the hands of that bruxa.

"Thank you." She spoke after a long silence. She decided to thank him instead of apologizing, it was more honest to what she really felt and not what she thought she had to say based on the expression on Geralt's face. "I'm guessing you are the one who saved me, so thank you for saving my life."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to stay behind, out of harm's way."

His intention was not to scold her so quickly. She had barely regained consciousness and he was already complaining about her actions and lack of care. He had spent the entire night awake beside her, watching her sleep in the hopes of seeing her open her eyes again. He imagined that when she did, he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how terrified he had been of losing her and how happy he was to have her back. His intention was to take care of her and make her feel supported and loved. But for some reason seeing her in that weakened state had once again brought out in him that horrible terror he felt when he saw her approach the bruxa.

If the circumstances were different, or if she were someone else, he could probably tell her openly how proud he was of the way she had handled the situation. She had been able to cast the signs without any trouble and for her first time in a battle situation with such a creature, she had been very brave and had put up a good fight. In the future, with more training, he could come to see her as a good ally on the battlefield. The problem was that her life was too important to him to risk it that way. He was used to injuries and being tossed around by the monsters he fought. Hell, he had been created specifically to endure it! But she wasn't. She was a human, fragile and delicate, not made to withstand that kind of combat.

Geralt could not remember a time in his recent past when he had felt the fear that swept over him the moment he saw her challenge the bruxa. And when she fell to the ground after being thrown several feet into the air, he felt the world around him stop for a second, stomach dropping as he waited and prayed to the gods above that she wasn't dead. The pool of blood under her head, the way her eyes slowly closed after whispering his name, it had all been too much for him. Carrying her fainted and bloodied body in his arms back to the village not knowing if she would ever wake up again filled him with a terror he never wanted to feel again in his life.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her after getting no answer from her other than a guilty look, like that of a child caught by his parents doing something mischievous.

"You were in danger," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "She was going to hurt you."

"I had it under control!"

She let out a snort of disbelief. "It didn't look like it."

"It doesn't matter what it looked like, you were supposed to stay behind! You promised you were going to listen to me this time!" Geralt raised his voice, making the princess flinch. She hated it when people yelled, especially men. It brought back bad memories of the life she had left behind. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I wasn't thinking! Is that what you want to hear?" She raised the pitch of her voice to match his. "I saw you on the floor and that thing flying at you and I just acted. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay behind while the man I... care so much about got killed right in front of me." Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink to let them fall. She was determined not to show weakness at that moment, even though she was pretty sure Geralt could read the pain in her expression.

The witcher's cold yellow eyes softened slightly, recognizing in her the same terror he had felt. But the fact that he could understand what had been going through her head at that moment did not change the fact that her actions had been reckless and unacceptable. That was the problem with them, they cared so much about each other to the point that they would not hesitate to put their own lives at risk to save the other. If he didn't have the profession he had, maybe that wouldn't be an obstacle to their happiness. But the reality was that she could not be by his side, accompanying him in his life at all times, without being exposed to danger.

Being a witcher meant looking danger in the face, and while he found it sweet that she cared as much for his safety and well-being as he did for hers, traveling with her would only give her more opportunities to hurt herself in order to save him. Being with him put her at risk not only because of the potential dangers they might encounter along the way, but also because of the strength of the connection they shared. She loved him so much that she was willing to sacrifice her life to save his and if he agreed to take her with him on his travels he would be consciously putting her at risk. She was a stubborn and determined woman, so Geralt could be sure that her behavior would not change no matter how many times she told him otherwise. And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

"I don't think this is going to work." Geralt said, standing up from the bed. "This was a mistake, I never should have taken you with me."

Oh.

She hadn't expected those words. She imagined he would be upset with her for disobeying him. She even expected him not to speak to her for the time it would take him to process the situation. But she didn't think he would ever regret her presence there. She thought she had done enough to prove her worth. Sure, things hadn't gone quite right, but she had proven that her skills —magical and non-magical— were of use to him. Perhaps she needed some more training, but she was very good at dealing with people and her vulnerable appearance made her the perfect bait for traps like the one they had set for the bruxa. She didn't expect Geralt to throw all that aside just because of a stupid wound.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked him, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she spoke.

"It means I'm taking you back home as soon as you are ready to travel." Geralt announced in a firm voice before leaving the room with a slam of the door. And just like that, she was left alone, staring at the wood as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She did not speak on the way back any more than was strictly necessary. She did not smile or comment on the beauty of the scenery around her. She didn't chat with Roach in the mornings or stop to play with or heal any of the animals along the way. She didn't even take the time to smell the flowers or listen to the birds sing. It was as if she was a completely different person. It reminded Geralt of how she was when he first met her, quiet, shy and frightened, always scared to say the wrong thing. Her usual sweet and cheerful glow was absent and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

He recognized that he had not treated the situation with the care he should have, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He should never have agreed to take her on one of his trips in the first place, so everything that had happened was his fault. He had been led astray by her charms, by the fantasy of believing that their lives were compatible. He wanted it to be true so badly that he had acted without thinking and as a result had hurt the woman he loved most. He had to fix his mistake and to do so he had to start by recognizing that his dreams were just that, dreams. A future together was not possible because he had not been made to settle down and start a family and she would always be in danger if she joined his travels. So, as much as it pained him, it was best for both of them to keep their lives separate and enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness they had when their paths crossed.

Her usual attitude returned to her when they arrived at her house and it was time to say goodbye. No matter how hurt she was, she couldn't bring herself to ignore Geralt knowing that this could be the last time she would see him for a long time. She gave him a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than it probably should have. But it was what they both needed, a moment to appreciate the comforting warmth of each other's bodies, to feel the spark of love they had for each other floating in the air after days of cold silence. They both needed to tell the other that everything they felt was still there in spite of everything. And both needed to recognize it in the other to know that all was not lost.

As they parted, the princess asked Geralt to be careful, just as she always did when she said her goodbyes to him. She then entered her home and sat in the chair near the door, starting the cycle of worry and uncertainty she found herself in whenever he was away from her home. Once again, her eyes were once again fixed on the dark wood, only this time her chest was heavy with the anguish of not knowing if she would ever see Geralt walk through that door again.

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mywrittings · 2 years

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destiny / geralt of rivia

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Staying at Kaer Morhen was an unexpected event in your life. After getting a room assigned you realize the room actually belongs to someone whom you'd often see by chance... or because of destiny?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 4.5k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 18+ ONLY! dirty talk, kissing, pussy eating, handjob, riding him, him fucking you... basically smut

a/n: hello everyone! I have been writing this for a while now but I have finally finished it! This story has a lot more dialogue and I hope you don't mind that. Also for anyone that is still waiting for my next chapter of lust series, it's coming! I am still in the process of writing it. Anyways hope you like reading this one!

Vesemir had called up on you to come stay at the Kaer Morhen for a while. Since it was winter time most of the witchers returned to this place to refuel and relax, your job was to keep the order and help with making elixirs. It was a sudden decision from Vesemir, an emergency to be precise. With many more blood hungry monsters, he wanted to make sure that all the right elixirs would be ready by the time winter is over, so naturally you were the best mage that knew how to make them without needing any recipes.

He showed you to your room where you would be staying for the next upcoming weeks. All the rooms at this place seemed the same but for some reason this one was way bigger than the rest. It had a lovely window that overlooked the training station outside, a large bed that looked comfortable, a fireplace to keep you warm and a small wardrobe. It almost felt like this room did not belong to Kaer Morhen but rather an inn.

‘’Get some rest, tomorrow I’ll tell you what you’ll need to do.’’ Vesemir said his goodbyes to you as he closed the door behind him

You had a long journey ahead of you today as you also made some stops in between, hence why your muscles were aching. You were desperate for a bath but weren’t so sure where you could find one. Also since it was winter outside, the weather completely changed. Snow took over the entire property, the leaves fell off the trees and the once green grass was covered in its entirety.

Stepping out of the room you walked along the many hallways that lead to different rooms while others lead to other rooms that had equipment. With each door you opened you kept getting more and more upset - there was nothing. All there was, was just a bunch of random stuff that didn’t really have a place or a pile of junk.

Feeling even more devastated than before you decided to return back to your room. The night by now has fallen, as the lamps lit up the place, making it feel more cozy. The chatter coming from downstairs was still up and about. After all it was the first day, when most witchers returned to their home, so it was only fitting for them to catch up with one another.

As you open the door to your room you suddenly scream out loud, while covering your eyes.

‘’What are you doing in my room?!’’ you exclaim at the figure that was standing by the bed, with their shirt off

‘’Your room? This is my-...’’ and in that moment you recognize his voice as he does yours

‘’Geralt?’’ you put your hands down but still keep your eyes closed shut

‘’What on earth are you doing here?’’ Geralt asks as you hear him make a step

When it comes to Geralt, you very well knew who he was. The greatest witcher of all times. The best hunter for monsters. Most of the time alone or accompanied by his friend Roach. He always did what he had to do and he did it perfectly.

But when it comes to you two, often your destinies would collide with one another and whenever you’d see each other, there would be tension between you too. You've always thought you did something to him since he gave you the strangest look when you first met. As a result, you automatically did the same to him.

‘’Just put on a shirt first!’’ you extend your arms out, as a way to prevent him for coming further even though he only made a step to turn to you

‘’Why would I? You are in my room, you barged in here.’’ he argues back and you hear the shirt shuffling in his hands

‘’Excuse me?,’’ you let your hands down ‘’Vesemir had told me this was my room while I’m staying here.’’ you point to the ground as you hear Geralt snicker

‘’Staying? Are you staying here?’’

‘’Yes? Did you not see my stuff I put in the wardrobe?’’ your eyes were still closed shut as you hear the door of the closet creak open

‘’Why are you here?’’ he asks, closing the wardrobe ‘’And also you can open your eyes, it’s not like I had my-...’’

‘’Okay!’’ you squeal quickly, opening your eyes to see Geralt wearing a black linen shirt that was tucked in his pants

‘’Do you mind leaving now?’’ you gesture to the door

‘’No? It’s my room.’’

You really did not have the time to argue with him but you did not wish to give up the room under any circumstances. If this was someone else asking for their room you’d give in already but since it was Geralt that was off limits.

‘’Geralt, I do not care if this was your room it’s mine now.’’ you point to yourself

Geralt huffs in annoyance, throwing his head back as his hands were on his hips. You now understood why this bedroom was his. He was the best witcher out there so I guess it was only fair to give him best of the best, as he caught many monsters and dealt with different quests. But you knew how other rooms there were. Most had a small bed with no fireplace and there were even rats around as nobody really took care of that.

‘’Then we share it.’’ he suggests and your eyes open wide

‘’Share it?’’ you were in disbelief that he even said that

‘’I’m afraid all the other rooms are occupied.’’ as he says that you peek your head out to the hallway and notice that sure indeed all the rooms were full as light came from each of them under the door

When the winter comes around all the witchers return back to this place to have some rest as there aren’t many monsters at this time. And when they do return this place is full of chatter, laughter and them sharing stories among one another. But you did not understand why Vesemir gave you this room if he knew it was Geralts.

‘’Can’t you sleep somewhere else? You could share a room with another witcher?’’ you look back at him as he gestures ‘no’ with his head and that’s when you thought that maybe it was unfair of you to just kick him out of his room that he earned fighting along many different creatures. However you were still going to stay in this room no matter what.

‘’Fine but what about the bed?’’

‘’I’ll take the floor.’’ he answers as he rushes past you out of the room

You watch him leave unsure as to where he was headed but in the meantime you decide to get ready for the bed. You took the duvet off and quickly jumped in, tucking yourself in afraid he was going to change his mind.

Soon Geralt was back in the room with a pillow, a duvet and a fluffy carpet. He closes the door before throwing everything he held on the ground. The carpet he placed on the floor which you realized it was for him to lay down but given the fact he was tall and bulky, the carpet practically disappeared underneath him. You watch him fiddle with the pillow and the duvet, tossing it one way and another, he was getting frustrated.

‘’Geralt.’’ you call to him and at first he doesn’t acknowledge your voice

‘’Geralt.’’ this time you said it louder and finally grab his attention

He whips his head and pierces his eyes into yours. You knew this wasn’t a way for him to sleep, especially because you did not know how long you were going to stay here. It was weird as you had some pity for him but then despised him, still you knew how hard they work and how desperately they need their sleep to recharge for the next season.

‘’We can share the bed.’’ you offer as you scoot over to one side and he just looks at you confused

‘’Just a few minutes ago you didn’t wish to share a room with me and now you want to share the bed?’’

‘’I do not have time to bicker, take this side of the bed or have fun sleeping on the creaky wooden floor.’’ you turn your back to him, taking half of the duvet covering your body in it

For a second there it was quiet, there wasn’t a single sound to be heard until the floor slowly creaked from behind you. A ‘Hmm’ left Geralt’s mouth before you felt the bed dip, the weight of the bed shifts as the other part of the duvet is being thrown to you.

‘’I got mine.’’ he shortly says as you hear his covers shuffling before he settles in the comfort of the bed

The setting was strange, sharing a bad with someone you did not like. Every little move he would make with his body the bed would creak but that didn’t bother you as the weight of your eyes took over you and you fell asleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you began tossing and turning as you were starting to get cold. The fire in the fireplace burnt out and the room suddenly changed temperatures. The duvet wasn’t doing you any justice as well at that point. Your body was freezing underneath it and because of that you were unable to sleep even though you were exhausted. But you weren’t the only one that couldn’t shut their eyes.

‘’When do you think you’ll stop?’’ you hear Geralt’s raspy voice

‘’When I get warm.’’ you didn’t even turn around to him, instead just mumble that under your breath. You wanted to start the fire in the fireplace but you didn’t have the will to get up and get even colder so instead you decided to shut your eyes and tried not to think about the coldness and eventually the sleep took over you.

Some point a little later in the night you had to switch sides and you had completely forgotten that you were sharing a bed with Geralt. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes slowly to find his yellow golden gaze staring at you. He didn’t say anything once the two of you met each other's gazes and suddenly the only thing you could hear in the room was you two breathing.

‘’Why are you looking at me?’’ you whisper, as your eyes were half open now, holding onto the duvet in your hands

‘’You are the total opposite when you sleep.’’ he remarks in his low voice

‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’You don’t say much. You’re quiet.’’ Geralt said while you narrow your eyebrows at him

‘’Fuck you.’’ you lift your head off the pillow as you say that, Geralt just snickers back at you

‘’Such pretty lips saying all that filth.’’ he all of the sudden says and you widen your eyes at him. His were fully focused on you now, wavering around your eyes to your lips. You could feel your heart beating faster and faster and you weren’t sure why you were having these thoughts.

‘’Huh?’’

Geralt quickly closes the distance and places his lips on yours. It was such a gentle kiss, without any strong pressure. He let his lips remain on top of yours for a few seconds whilst you closed your eyes, unsure how to respond.

His lips leave yours before he returns, significantly stronger this time as he removes his hand from beneath the covers and softly places his thumb beneath your chin. You now respond by spreading your lips as he leans in and you kiss him back.

He moves himself closer to you as his hand begins traveling down from your face to the back of your head before pausing at your lower back. You too took your hands from beneath the covers and delicately touched his face with your fingertips. You could feel his rough skin along with his stubble he had not shaved. His hair tickled at your skin once he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue in your mouth evoking a moan out of you. His tongue danced with yours, every now and then he’d pull away just to kiss you again before going back in to bite on your bottom lip, everything was becoming more heated.

‘’Geralt…’’

‘’Yes?’’

‘’What are we doing?’’ you confusingly ask once you two stopped kissing

‘’Kissing each other.’’ he replies, as his thumb traced your lips

‘’But I hate you.’’

‘’Oh you do? Show me how much you hate me then.’’ he says quietly, his eyes were yearning for more you and the desire inside of you, it was like a spark that was waiting for a while before it ignited, that’s when you swiftly remove the duvet and straddle him

Your legs were on the side of him and he immediately put his hands on your hips. But first he assists you in removing your dress as you help him get rid of his linen shirt. Your breathing hitched once you felt something hard underneath you, poking at you but it felt good. You lower yourself to him, just inches away from his lips hovering over.

‘’Kiss me.’’ he orders before you close the gap and kiss him hard. Geralt’s hands came back at your hips, aiding you to move and you felt your pussy getting increasingly wetter and wetter each time you’d feel his cock twitch underneath you

"For someone that was visibly annoyed by me, your hard cock is saying otherwise." you add in between kisses.

That’s when he backs up and within seconds he moves you away from himself. He gets out of bed but turns around to face you, his knees slamming into the bed frame. His massive cock jumps out as he quickly takes his pants down. As you were on your knees, staring up at him, he drew you closer and grips your neck.

‘’Open your mouth.’’ he urges and you don’t even think twice because you wanted him, you needed to taste him in your mouth and you didn’t care about anything else

You do as he says and he shoves his cock in your mouth, while keeping his hand on your neck.

‘’That’s more like it you fucking cunt. Got you all quiet now huh?’’ his dirty talk had your pussy throbbing and you wanted so badly to touch yourself but Geralt had a different idea

‘’Put your hands behind your back.’’ he instructs, eyes watching you as you keep taking him in your mouth

Geralt began moving his hips back and forth, as you bobbed your head to the pace he was instructing. Your eyes were looking directly at him as he threw his head back once he placed his hand to the top of your head.

‘’You take this cock so fucking good,’’ he growls as he takes his dick out of your mouth ‘’stick your tounge out.’’ you obey him as he slaps his dick on your tongue, repeatedly before putting it back in your mouth

He was fucking your mouth, his head went back once he pushed it all the way and that caught you off guard. Your entire body was in a state of euphoria, that feeling of him completely within your mouth was driving you mad. You loved his taste.

‘’Fuck, that feels so good.’’ he purrs as he takes his cock out and a trail of saliva comes out of your mouth. Your lips were red, swollen from how much he pounded his dick in your mouth.

His face lowers to you and he crushes his lips on yours while making sounds. He tugs and licks at your lips, his hand resting on your face and you couldn’t keep your hands away from him. You had to touch him. So you tug at his hair as your other hand pulls him closer, causing him to collapse on top of you. He didn’t seem to mind that as he began slowly grinding on your pussy.

‘’Look how fucking wet you are cunt.’’ he says mid between kissing you as you feel his hard cock, grazing over your wet pussy. Both of your hands were now in his hair, his were at the either side of your body, holding himself up as his cock was drenching in your juices.

‘’Geralt…’’ you mutter his name

‘’Mmm, yes princess?’’ you feel his finger on your pussy and you jolt in your place

‘’What did you want hm?’’ he asks, his voice so sinful, wishing you to have more of him but you couldn’t make up any words. It was difficult to talk while he was playing with you, a cocky expression on his face knowing he had every inch of you he desired.

‘’You need to tell me princess, so I know what I need to do to make you feel good.’’ he leaves a trail of wet kisses along your jawline as your eyes roll back from the feeling

‘’I…I want your…’’ you gulp and lick your lips as Geralt watches you with hungry eyes ‘’I want your mouth on my pussy.’’ you finally croak out and he kisses your lips before going down to your legs.

‘’You want me to lick your pussy?’’ he opens your legs further apart, getting access to your exposed dripping cunt. His arms wrap around your legs holding you in place before dipping his head and licking a strip up your pussy.

‘’Like this?’’

You nod as he snickers and goes back in, flicking his tongue repeatedly, up and down in any direction he could think off. His tongue was velvety making you fill up with pleasure. He looked so handsome this way, the window from the roof was shining just enough on him, outlining his back and arm muscles. His hair was falling at his face and his eyes would occasionally peek up at you.

As you glance further down his body you could see his hard cock, jerking every time you’d moan or call his name. Just thinking about him being inside you made your body melt, you felt tingles from your spine traveling throughout your body.

Geralt seemed to take notice of your eyes as he smiled in your pussy ‘’Do you want something else, I can give it to you.’’ he removes his tongue off of your cunt and retrieves his body back to yours, as he licks his fingers before locking his lips back to yours.

‘’Yes.’’ you whisper, unable to control yourself

‘’Do you want my cock?’’ he says as he glances down and reaches for his cock, taunting you with his tip at your pussy

‘’Yes.’’ you were pleading by this point now

‘’Do you want me to fuck you?’’

You bit at your lower lip, he was driving you insane. His tip alone was enough to make your brain dizzy, let alone his deep voice, which sent shivers down your body every time he talked to you dirty.

Finally you nod and he pulls you closer to him as he enters you, slowly at first, filling your insides. He was big, you could feel every bit of him, stretching out your walls. You gasp out loud, your back arching, clutching at the sheets as Geralt muffles your sounds by kissing you.

‘’Shit. Such a tight little pussy huh?’’ he asks, as he moves in and out of you. You were clenching around him, he knew where to find the right spot, your moans were the response to his movements.

The room was filled with sweat, moans and Geralt’s grunts as he began moving faster. He leaves your lips and grabs at your legs, placing them around himself as he was on his knees. As he’s holding at your legs, he keeps going faster and faster. His body was glistening with his sweat, his perfect v-line flowing down to his cock, while he pummeled into you, flinging his head back.

You were still grasping at the sheets, closing your eyes in between, nobody has ever made you feel this good. You could feel your pussy pulsing from his cock around your walls, his cock fit perfectly in you.

‘’Come here.’’ he suddenly says as he pulls you to himself and smother’s your face with his lips. He was kissing you all over your face, his tongue was licking at your cheeks, it’s like he wanted to devour you from head to toe - you tasted sweet to him.

Geralt then lays down on the bed and has your back facing him. He helps you as he eases you onto cock,holding you and fucking you again. Your hands were trying to support you but because of him you didn’t need to do so. You didn’t mind this position, the only issue is that you couldn’t see him and the sight of him in this state made you wet all over again.

He leans you back into him, your back now colliding with his chest as his head pops across your left side, where he turns your head and kisses your lips. His lips were hot, as he sucked and pulled at them. His hand slithers down your body to your pussy. You had no idea it would make you feel even better, but it did. He began circling around it, driving you insane.

‘’Geralt…fuck.’’ you moan unable to control yourself

‘’Only I can fuck this pussy, you understand?’’

‘’Mhm…’’

‘’Say it.’’ he demands as he kisses you again

‘’Only you can fuck this pussy Geralt.’’ you repeat and he smiles into the kiss

‘’Make me cum with this pussy.’’ he says as you squeeze your pussy, knowing it would drive him over the edge and you were right

‘’Cum with me.’’ he lastly says before you feel his heart beating faster

Geralt’s hand is continuing playing with your pussy as you feel him twitch inside of you. His cock was pulsating as you felt yourself getting filled with his warm cum. His lips were pressed to yours, he was groaning in your mouth, you moaning back into his. Both of your bodies went to a new state. Your vision went black once you reached your high and the sensation overtook your entire body.

‘’Fuck.’’ you cry out, biting your lip while arching your back

His heavy breathing slowly came at ease but your body was still buzzing from the orgasm he just gave you.

‘’You’re shaking.’’ Geralt says as he takes his cock out and quickly places you at his side, wrapping your body with the duvet. He pulls you close to himself, wrapping his arms around your frame to keep you secure and in place.

‘’Geralt, did we really just fuck?’’ you mumble and feel his hands caress your back

‘’We did,’’ he takes a moment to look at you ‘’do you regret it?’’ he asks, his eyes speaking to you

‘’No, I don’t. Do you?’’

‘’No. I always wanted to be inside you.’’

You playfully bump your head onto his chest and giggle as you see a smile on his face as well. He removes a strand of your hair away from your face and places a soft kiss on your lips.

‘’So all you needed was to fuck me and suddenly you don’t hate me anymore?’’ you say, as you trace the features on his nose

‘’The only thing I hated was that this pussy wasn’t mine. Until today.’’ his hand moves to your ass where he slaps it and right after squeezes it

‘’When did I say it was yours?’’ you joke but he slaps your ass again making you jump in your place

‘’This pussy is mine. Only mine.’’ he kisses your nose before nuzzling you back into him rocking you with his body

It felt so good laying with him like this, the warmth wrapping around you and hearing his breathing was the perfect combination to make you fall asleep but not before he said ‘’Our destinies always seem to be colliding Y/n.’’ that made you think of all the other times you had seen him. Sometimes you’d see him in random places, unturned areas yet and he’d be there. Each time you’d see one another, each time your eyes would be different. But it never came to your head that this all was in fact destiny. It never came to you that the feeling you had was true - you wanted him to be yours.

‘’You are right. Maybe we belong to one another after all.’’ you reply and his hands came to your face, lifting it up

‘’Not maybe, rather yes, we do belong to one another.’’ the sides of his mouth lift upwards and he leans in kissing you but with the biggest passion yet

“I never hated you.” he suddenly says as he keeps his hands around you and takes his eyes up the window on the roof “I wanted you, each time I’d see you I felt something in me, it was pulling me in to you.” he licks his lips before continuing ''But I always thought to myself 'Why would someone like her wish to be with someone like me'.” he looks back at you, his eyes were heavy and sleepy

''Someone like you?'' you scoff and sit up ''Do you know how strong and amazing you are Geralt? You are the most powerful witcher out there,'' you point to the window ''there is no one that could beat you.''

Geralt takes your hands in his lap and sits up with you ''That's all I am Y/n. I kill monsters and get their blood all over me. I reek of their smell.''

''You are protecting us. Protecting the people. Without you, this world would have eaten us by now.'' you boop his nose with your finger and he grabs your hand, placing it himself on the side of his face and the weight of his head falls into your hands

''You are such an extrodinary woman Y/n. I'm sorry if I was...''

''Grumpy? Annoying?'' you cut him off and snicker

''Yes. I was trying to push you away for my own being which was a very dumb decision...'' he wavers off, he was troubled by this

''I mean I did the same to you, only you did it first to me and then I did it and then I thought 'what did I do wrong' because you were always so mad when you'd see me and I-...'' Geralt stops you from talking as he smashes his lips onto yours, breathing in your scent

''You're mine Y/n. That's all that matters to me now. I have you.''

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfic #geralt smut #geralt imagine #geralt rivia x reader #geralt x rivia smut #the witcher smut #the witcher x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher x reader

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sillyrabbit81 · 1 year

Text

Love Sick

Prompt: Slow & Romantic, Medical Play from @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden (x) Thank you!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, hand job, oral sex (m receiving), mentions of body fluids, made up medical treatments.

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @nashibirne , @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed your thoughtful and honest comments (and special knowledge 🤣) are always appreciated.

I found this prompt particularly tricky as medical play isn't a kink I'm overly familiar with, but in the end I'm pretty happy with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy it.

I'm sorry, but I barely had time to read over it, it was edited by me, on the fly there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

There is a knock on the door to your small hut. Your hands are busy pouring a heavy pot of freshly prepared Eucalyptus oil through a cheesecloth strainer, so you call out to the visitor.

“Come in.”

You hope it's a customer, you could do with the money, but immediately curse yourself. You love being a healer, but you hate that you often have to rely on the misfortune of others. Maybe it will be a young woman, happy to be pregnant and they’ll ask you for assistance to deliver the baby when the time comes.

You hear the door open and close. Still pouring the freshy made oil, you glance at the door and very nearly lose the preparation that took you over six hours to make.

“Geralt,” you whisper.

His brows raise slightly in surprise as he greets you by name in a low rumble that you hadn’t heard in nearly two years.

You’re frozen by the shock of seeing the Witcher again and by the uncertainty of how to react to his unexpected appearance at your door. You stare at each other, he seems as unable to decide what to do as you are.

Geralt's brows raise higher and he says your name again, this time with urgency and while taking long strides to your side.

You turn back to your work and curse. In your bewilderment, you haven’t stopped pouring and oil is leaking over the sides of the cheese cloth and onto your table and apron.

Geralt takes the pot out of your hands and you start to mop up the spill. It doesn’t look like you lost too much and you sigh with relief. When you’ve wiped up as much as you can, you try to take your apron off, but your fingers are oily and make gripping the tie difficult.

“Let me,” Geralt says. You jump, you didn’t realise he was standing so close behind you.

His fingers brush across the bare skin of your neck as he pulls at the strings of your apron and his touch makes your spine tighten and lock. His body presses against your back as he reaches around your waist and unties the long doubled over strings tied your front. He doesn’t move when the apron loosens and you pull it off, instead he rests his hands on your hips while you wipe your oily fingers on the roughened cotton.

“I have to wash my hands,” you say, proud of the fact that your voice is calm and strong. “Take a seat.”

You slip out of Geralt’s reach and over to your fireplace. You take the kettle from its spot on your stove and pour some heated water into your wash bowl and quickly lather your hands in soap. You take the time to compose yourself. There are so many questions running through your mind you aren’t sure where to start.

“How did you find me?” you ask while you dry your hands.

“I didn’t,” Geralt says. “I’m as surprised to find you here as you are.”

You nod and keep rubbing your dry hands against the towel.

“It wasn’t for a lack of trying,” he mutters under his breath.

Your brows furrow. Geralt had tried to find you? You found that odd considering the events that led to your parting of ways.

“So I shouldn’t have to move again? Did I cover my tracks?” you ask, dreading the answer.

“If I couldn’t find you, it’s unlikely those fools could.”

You let out a breath you weren’t even aware you had been holding, then fold the towel and place it next to the basin. Although Geralt’s answers are a relief, they do raise more questions.

“So what brings you here then?”

Geralt shifts in the chair. “I was passing through.”

“No, I mean why are you seeking a healer? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he says.

“Then what do you need a healer for?”

“Nevermind. It can wait until I get back to Kaer Morhen.”

“But that's several weeks' journey from here.”

“Vesemir will know what to do.”

“Geralt, please? Just tell me.”

He hums, his lips thinning as he thinks. Then he takes a deep breath and says quickly, “I think I’m unwell, or maybe poisoned by something I am unfamiliar with.”

You frown. He sounds uneasy, that isn’t like him. Immediately your clinical detachment overrides any other emotions you have about Geralt’s unexpected appearance and you begin your examination.

“What are the symptoms?”

“I can’t sleep. There’s an ache in my chest; it’s as if I can’t breathe sometimes. I get headaches, and my heart races sometimes. I can’t concentrate and I’m slow to react.” He relays the information in a tone that tries to make him appear unbothered, as if any one of those symptoms aren’t serious enough on their own, let alone altogether.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Months,” he says.

Mentally you start checking off symptoms and ask clarifying questions, but each answer he gives only adds to your confusion.

Eventually you shake your head and begin to gather supplies and motion towards the bed. “I’ll need to do a physical examination. Please remove your clothes and lay on the bed. You can cover yourself with the sheet.”

Geralt doesn’t move and for a moment you think he is going to refuse. Then he stands slowly, and begins to pull his loose black shirt from his leather pants.

Although you are a healer and are used to seeing men in all sorts of compromising positions, your face burns while you watch him undress out of the corner of your eye. The last time you saw him partially naked… You shake your head as if that will stop the memories of the night he helped you escape from your old village’s Alderman and his cronies.

When Geralt is settled on the bed, you begin by finding his pulse in his neck. His skin is so warm, almost hot, but not quite feverish. You don’t know a lot about Witchers and how their mutations affect their anatomy and function, but you know enough that Geralt’s heart is beating far faster than it should be.

Your hands move over his chest and down to his belly. He jumps slightly as you dig your fingers into his skin. For a moment your detachment slips and you bite your lip as you look down at your hands resting on Geralt’s stomach. Your fingers brush over his smooth skin in a motion that's much too much like a caress to be professional.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should have warned you. I get in my head sometimes and forget that the patient doesn’t know what I’m doing. I’m trying to feel your organs to make sure none are painful or swollen.”

He nods and you inhale deeply, trying to regain your clinical attitude.

You prod at his stomach, searching for his liver. You have to press hard, pushing against muscle much firmer than even that of the strong farmers you’ve treated over the years.

Quickly you become lost in the work and your hands move gently over his muscles, checking his stomach and guts, and his bladder. You’re so caught up in your examination that you don’t notice the growing hardness that lays over his abdomen until your palm accidentally brushes against it.

You pull your hands away as if they had been burnt. You look at Geralt and your lock onto his deep amber eyes. He’s blushing.

Geralt is blushing.

But he does not look away and neither do you.

“When was the last time you were with a woman?” you ask.

There is a subtle change in his face, a slight tightening of the jaw before he finally averts his eyes.

“Months.”

So you can’t rule out some kind of sex disease. Your ears and cheeks feel aflame, but you have to ask.

“When was the last time you touched your…”

Geralt's jaw still twitches beneath the rough growth on his cheek. “I can’t remember.”

“Days, weeks, months?”

“Months.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Geralt drags his gaze back to you and those amber eyes of his are bright, almost glowing in the firelight. It's the kind of look that would once have had your knees shaking, but you put your hands on your hips and look back just as steely eyed.

“I need to know if it still works, Geralt. Can you still maintain—”

“Yes.”

“Can you reach—”

“I don’t know,” he says harshly. Then his voice softens and he says quietly, “I haven’t tried.”

“Why not? Lack of motivation or interest?”

“No.”

“Then why? Lack of available women? I find that hard to believe.”

“It's not hard to believe when the one you want isn’t available,” Geralt mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

“Oh,” you say softly.

You’re beginning to realise what might be wrong with him, but first you have to rule a couple of things out. Your mouth is dry as you clear your throat and lift the sheet and trail your fingers up his inner thigh.

“I have to check… here.”

Geralt closes his eyes, his jaw clenches, and his whole body goes tight as you enclose his sack with your hand. Gently, you roll them with your fingers, searching for lumps or signs of abnormalities. But you find nothing except a perfect example of male vitality, even if he was unable to father children.

Your fingers itch to move higher, to feel his throbbing cock in your hand. He looks so big and thick beneath the thin sheet. You bite your lip as you withdraw your hand, but your eyes never leave the growing wet patch that turns the cloth translucent enough to see the dark and angry reddish, purple skin of the tip of his cock.

Geralt's hand wraps around your wrist stopping you from making your retreat. He says your name in a voice thick with lust.

“Don’t stop,” he says, guiding your hand back beneath the sheet. “Please, I need…” his voice trails off as the tip of your fingers grazes the silky smooth skin of his cock.

“I can help,” you say. “I can give you relief, but it won’t be enough.”

Geralt looks stricken. “Why not?”

“I think you ache. Your body, your mind, your heart… But most of all here…”

You wrap your hand around him. God, he feels so hot and hard, you’re barely able to suppress a moan. Geralt doesn’t hold back, he groans as his hips give a huge jerk and raises himself up and leans on elbows. He throws off the sheet and groans again at the sight of how small your hand looks wrapped around him.

“She must be beautiful,” you say.

“Who?” he says, his eyes fixed on your hand.

“The one who you’re in love with. The one who is making you unwell.”

Geralt tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You stroke him, moving your hand softly, while you try and fail to keep yourself detached from what you are doing.

“You’re nothing more than lovesick,” you tell him, “I can give you some relief but if you want to be free of this pain, then you must have her.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his lips part and his chest works hard as he keeps staring at your hand. No, not your hand, now he’s staring at you.

“She is,” he says sincerely, “She’s very beautiful.”

“She’s very lucky,” you say.

Geralt shakes his head. “I would be the one that's lucky to have her.”

A spike of jealousy pierces your heart and completely shatters your carefully compartmentalised rational objectivity and releases a surge of erotic desire. You pause, staring into Geralt’s scorching eyes and wonder what on earth you are doing.

You take a deep breath and turn away from him, desperately grasping for a way to remain aloof.

“Lay back and close your eyes,” you tell him.

“It’s better for me if I watch,” he says in a voice that reverberates from deep within his chest.

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Keep going,” he says, “I need this.”

So you keep going. You start lazily, stroking, working him, trying not to notice the pulses of the thick veins, the silkiness of his skin as it slides over him, or the fluid that gathers at the tip that your thumb collects with each sweep over the head.

Harder to ignore are the sounds he makes; the moans that start as gentle rumbles, almost purr like in his throat and quickly become guttural groans.

His hand moves down his belly, slipping beneath your pumping arm and his fingers graze his balls before pulling gently on the skin.

You can’t stop yourself and you glance at him, his eyes are waiting there for yours. He growls, sweat breaks over his brow and makes the hair on his chest glisten in the firelight. He’s beautiful; the quintessential picture of maleness, and full of animal sexual lust.

And he can’t take his eyes off you.

The hand between his legs is suddenly wrapped around your waist as he sits up. His mouth is so close, all of him is so close, and somehow just being held by him is far more intimate than having your hand wrapped around his cock.

His hand is on your cheek, his nose rubs against yours and he whispers, “Why did you leave?”

Your brows furrow with confusion. “I… Because I got away. You said you’d help me get away and that was it, we’d go our separate ways.”

“I said I’d take you somewhere safe. That I’d keep you safe.”

“Same thing,” you say.

“No,” he says so softly, it's barely more than a rough breath. “No it’s not.”

His thumb runs over your lips, his fingers caress your neck.

“I searched for you,” he says. “For so long. Then, I mourned you. I still mourn you.”

“I’m right here, Geralt,” you tell him. “I’m alright.”

“But I’m not. You made me love sick.”

You gasp. Your body starts to tremble, as you try to make sense of what he said.

“Geralt—”

His fingers cover your lips to hush you and he whispers, “Don’t stop, let me have this just once and I’ll be gone if you want me to.”

You nod and he sighs with relief. You look down at your hand still firmly wrapped around his cock. Keeping your eyes on Geralt’s, you bend at the waist, licking your lips. His eyes grow dark as he watches your tongue peek sweep across the soft verges of your mouth.

“Fuck, what are you doing?” Geralt asks, in a voice that hints at panic but also deep longing.

You keep lowering your head until your lips brush over the silky skin of his cock and your lips part, taking him into your mouth. Geralt shudders and with a long moan, falls back onto the bed.

“Fuck.”

His hands cradle your head, stroking your hair, caressing your neck, touching you as much as he can while he arches up into your mouth. You fall into a rhythm, your hand moves over him while your mouth follows, sucking softly and massaging with your tongue.

It’s not long until his breath starts to catch in his throat and starting at his thighs and belly, tremors seem to work through his muscles until his whole body is trembling.

He’s close, and part of you wants to draw back because you don’t want this to end so soon. But he lifts his head and you see the look on his face, see the need burning in his eyes and the unspoken desperate plea in his parted lips.

You move faster, sucking harder and taking him deeper into your mouth. He needs this and you want to ease him of the suffering he’s had all these months. He bends his leg, his heel digs deep into the hard mattress as he calls your name while his body surges. He holds your head in place while he begins to release thick and heavy jets into your mouth.

A little shaken, you release him from your mouth and raise your head. You let him go, allowing your fingers to trail over his thigh while his muscles twitch as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed and a smile breaks across his face.

While your heart soars to see him enjoying his post orgasm euphoria, there is a heaviness in your chest.

Geralt loves you.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

While he’s distracted and to hopefully give you time to think, you fall back onto what you know. You pour fresh water into your wash bowl and bring it over to the bed, carefully wring out the cloth and begin to wash him. Falling into an almost meditative state, you start to wash his hand, watching with satisfaction as the road dust and dirt wipes away.

You work your way up his arm, then his shoulders, then you lean over the broad expanse of his chest to clean his face. His eyes are open now, watching you expectantly.

He lets you wipe his brow, then down his nose and sweep across his cheeks. Before you get to his lips, you lower your head and press your lips against his.

As his arms encircle your waist and he kisses you back, you decide you will never let him become love sick again.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fan fiction #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt #the witcher #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt z rivii #geralt fanfic #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x you

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daddyy333 · 9 months

Text

Geralt of Rivia Fluff

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 2.6k

warnings: reader is injured at the beginning, reader is wounded, reader gets stitches (I think), clingy geralt, ?

summary: Never in your wildest dreams did you think Geralt of Rivia would turn out to be the clingiest boyfriend you’d ever had

When you first started your relationship with Geralt- actually, scratch that. When you first met Geralt you thought he was the furthest thing from clingy. He barely even spoke, much less touched you or even looked in your direction really.

After he fell out with Yennefer, he met you. He was planning to just stay in this small village for a few days and rest, knowing he had to keep moving so no one would find him and Ciri. That was until he stumbled upon you.

He found you running from some odd and probably hungry monster, looking to feed…on you. Possibly one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever seen. You looked quite out of place, your light pastel purple skirt gradually getting covered in dirt as you tried to escape the creature.

You yelped as you tripped over a branch, sobs racking your body as you fell face first into the dirt. You groaned, cursing frantically through sobs, trying to crawl away from the creature.

“fu- FUCK!” You said as the creature drug his claw across your thigh. You cried out, whimpering as you finally accepted your fate. Suddenly, right when you feel it’s stinky, hot breath on you it disappears just as fast.

You couldn’t see what was happening, back facing upwards and your face still buried in the ground. You felt a man’s hands on your waist and you screamed, curling tighter even though it caused more pain to pulse in your thigh.

“Miss, I’m the one who just saved your life. I’m…a Witcher. Even if you hate me right now, I’d like to help you if that’s alright?” He said as he walked in front of you bending down so you could see him. You whimpered as you said “p-please don’t hurt m-me”

“I’m not going to. I just need you to cooperate and I promise you’ll be just fine in a little while” he said and you nodded. He scooped you up and plopped you on his horse, making you cry out in pain.

“Can you…mmm- b-be gentle?” You asked and he sighed. He mumbled an apology and started leading Roach back to his lodgings that he found sufficient for a few days.

You had passed out then, and he realized that his poor excuse for a tourniquet failed. “Shit,” he said and laid you on his bed, pulling your skirt off to help him treat you better.

“Oh gods, what the hell is this?” Ciri asked and Geralt sighed. He poured a disinfectant on your thigh as he said “found her being chased by a monster. Did my job. Now I’m helping her” “why didn’t you just find a doctor to do it?” She asked, setting her bag of fruits down and beginning to wash them.

“Don’t have the coin for it. Why so many questions, Ciri?” He asked and she shrugged. She looked over and said “I don’t know, just…feels unusual” “she needs help. I’m providing it” he said and Ciri nodded, chuckling.

He treated you to the best of his abilities and waited for you to wake up, going out and chopping some wood to fill his time and also training with Ciri a bit. When he came back inside it was nighttime and you were still sleeping.

He knew you weren’t dead, he could hear your heartbeat faintly and you weren’t super pale anymore. He walked over and shook you lightly, trying to wake you up. “Miss?” He asked, and you still didn’t budge.

He sighed and then nearly jumped when Jaskier busted in, a little drunk admittedly. “Ohhhh Geralt!” He sang, stumbling in. Geralt sighed and stared at him, hoping Jaskier wouldn’t cause too much trouble because he needed to look after you.

You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes and coughing a few times. You tried to sit up but moving your thigh cause immense pain. “Ahh!” You groaned, trying to figure out what the hell happened.

“Hi, Miss. Are you alright?” Geralt asked and you jumped slightly. You looked around frantically and then said “w-where is my skirt?” You asked and he cleared his throat. He showed that it was on a table and said “I had to take it off to treat your wounds”

You looked down at your thigh and winced, gently touching it and moving the bandage. “Thank- th-thank you” you said, looking up at him. Jaskier walked over with a smirk on his face and said “and who are you-” “Jaskier,” Geralt scolded softly.

“Y/n…of Aedirn” you said and smiled a little. You noticed a look of confusion on his face and you understood why. You were in a far away village near Creyden, why? “Julian Alfred Pankratz?” You asked the brown haired gentleman and he smiled. He nodded and said “that would be me. Viscount of Lettenhove”

You nodded and looked up at the white haired Witcher, sighing. “Uhm…Rivia…Geralt?” You asked and he nodded, a small smile on his face. Ciri had came out of her room and scoffed at the interaction. “Are you blushing?” She asked and Geralt shot a stern look her way.

“You should be asleep” he said and she shook her head. “Jaskier woke me up” she mumbled and he gasped. He ran over and hugged her as he said “I deeply apologize, my little pocket sized princess. Oh, you should get your beauty sleep come on”

You chuckled a little at the interaction and Geralt bent down to your level. His gaze made butterflies swirl in your stomach. “How are you feeling?” He asked and you sighed. You look down at your leg and said “sore. And dirty” “would you like me to help you with a bath? I would leave you alone but I don’t think you’ll be able to walk properly for a while” “I appreciate it. Yes, thank you” you said and he got to work.

He ended up staying for longer just to care for you and you told him your story. Your parents turned you away because you were secretly harboring magical abilities behind their back and they had strong opinions against that. You’ve been running around all over the continent trying to figure out where’s safest but it’s been tough and technically your homeless.

But he was so infatuated with you he wasn’t really thinking when he said “travel with me. And Ciri of course, and sometimes Jaskier” You shook your head and insisted you couldn’t, you would only be a bother. He insisted instead that you come along.

He was a man of mostly few words, and kept to himself quite a bit. You spent a lot of time with Ciri. You would teach her to cook, help her control her chaos, braid her hair, and even tell her stories of your travels before you met them. The two of you almost seemed like mother and daughter at times but neither of you noticed. You just felt like best friends.

You had to admit, Geralt was a beautiful man. When you caught him shirtless once, you nearly fainted. He was just so handsome, and you wanted to kiss every scar on his body till he forgot about them.

But you thought you never stood a chance with him. You knew about what happened with Yennefer and assumed that because of that you wouldn’t be able to have any romantic relationship with him. Even if you tried, you think it would be rude because of how much happened between them. Truly you are still convinced to this day that they are soulmates, and he would drop you in a heartbeat if she came back and wanted to try again. But that’s a story for another day.

Months go by, you’ve completely healed so long ago you don’t need to burden them any longer with your presence but you feel so welcomed and safe with them. However, after about a year or so you’ve started to think that maybe it would make things easier if you went off on your own again, like it used to be.

You packed your bags and made your way to the lake where Geralt was fishing from. “Hey,” you said, walking up to him. He looked over at you and grunted in response. “I uh…I’ve been thinking and I’m gonna go out on my own again. I’ve been healed for months and I don’t need to stay and bother you any longer. Im grateful fo-”

“Stop,” he said, putting down his net. He shook his head and said “what are you talking about? You are not leaving” “Geralt…I-I was only supposed to travel with you until my leg healed and it’s been over a year. I’m okay now. The less people you have to travel with the easier, so I thought maybe I’d-”

“No. You can’t go. You can’t- do not go. Y/n, why do you say such stupid things?” He asked and you shook your head. You scoffed, shaking your head as you said “why do you care so much? I’m just some strange, homeless woman you met a year ago and just so happened to save from a really stinky monster”

“You’re- why do you think so little of yourself? Stop talking about this nonsense, I don’t want to hear it” he said and you rolled your eyes. You folded your arms and said “so what? I cant go because you say so” “Ciri needs you! I ne- mmm. Go back inside, you’re not leaving” he said and you gasped.

He looked away, obviously shy and embarrassed and you blushed instantly. Did he really mean that? “Geralt…” you said and he ignored you. You walked over in front of him but he still wouldn’t look at you.

You cupped his cheeks and said “what were you going to say?” “I- I can’t. It’s- it’s not fair to Ciri” he said and you sighed. You looked over his facial expression and let go, slowly walking away. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

He decided to just say it in case he never got the chance again, even though he was scared. “I need you, y/n! Alright? There, I said it” he said and groaned as if he was annoyed. You smiled then, just slightly as you stopped walking, butterflies swirling in your belly.

“I thought you didn’t need anyone?” You said as you walked over again. He looked away, feeling so embarrassed he could run away. You almost couldn’t tell, just a small furrow between his brows aside from his usually stoic expression.

“I also said I didn’t want anyone needing me but now Ciri doesn’t get to leave my side and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I guess I lied. And I need you.” He said and you nodded, taking a deep breath. You looked over at what he had already caught and said “alright, fine”

You began to walk away and yet again he pulled you back, pushing you against a tree as he cupped your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other. He looked scared, and you were just about to tell him he didn’t have to do this but then he kissed you and your mind blanked.

He slowly and gently licked into your mouth, connecting your tongues as he caressed and squeezed your waist. You were blushing and smiling so hard as your tongues swirled together, his warm hands making the butterflies in your belly worse.

You pulled away, feeling your face was going to explode and he was only making it worse. “What?” He asked as you stared at him. You giggled and said “you’re smiling,” “no, I’m not” he said and blushed, kissing you again.

He never stopped touching you after that day. You tried to keep this new relationship from Ciri but not a week later she caught Geralt embracing you as you made breakfast. He knew you were upset at him, but he couldn’t help the grin on his face as you scolded him, knife pointing towards him with your hair in a messy bun from when you slept and your nightgown still draping over your beautiful body.

She seemed a bit confused about it, clearly distracted during lessons and keeping to herself for a while after that. You never heard the end of it considering Geralt lingered around you quite a bit and had become so talkative as he got more and more comfortable with you everyday.

Eventually she warmed up to your new relationship, especially since she was seeing it all the time everywhere every day. He couldn’t keep his hands off you to save his life. Quite literally, he almost got seriously injured trying to get you away from one of the many monsters he's fought and killed.

And now, it’s high noon and you’ve been stuck in bed underneath a giant white haired man. A little sex, and a lot of cuddling has gone on in the last 16 or so hours. You assume at least. You’ve been too busy with Geralt.

“You know, I thought when we started seeing each other romantically that we wouldn’t last because I would feel insecure due to the lack of attention you’d give me. The last thing I’d expected was this” you said, making him lift his head up.

He searched your eyes as he said “do you…not like it?” “No, no, I love it, I just- well…have you met yourself? You’re not exactly very affectionate to everyone you meet” you said and you both laughed.

“I just…love you so much” he said and you blushed. He’d told you it took him so many years to tell Yennefer he loved her and you two had only been romantically involved for a little over a year. And it’s been the best year of your life.

He trusted you so much. He chose to be vulnerable and he chose to be vulnerable with you. It was the greatest feeling ever. You’d never given him a reason not to trust you and as scary as it was he reacted directly to that fact every single day he was with you.

“I love you more. My sexy, white haired lover” you said and he blushed. You kissed him and he said “the only white haired lover you’ll ever have” “for the rest of my life” you finished, kissing all over his face.

He smiled and it made you blush. You couldn’t help it. 10 years could pass and you’d still feel so shy when you could make him smile. “As much as I do love this, I am quite hungry” you said and he sighed. He rested his head back on your chest for just a moment longer and then got up, looking around for his clothes.

You smiled, rolling onto your side and admiring his body. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, turning around. It was a little bit of a strain but you reached over and smacked his ass, making him gasp and reach over to the other side of you, doing the same.

You squealed, calling a truce because you knew how quick he could turn this dirty and your ass was already sore from being slammed against so many things last night and also from having you in- never mind. If you keep remembering you’ll only get yourself worked up again and then you’ll never leave this bed.

“Dirty girl,” he said, leaning down and kissing you once he got his clothes on. You curled up in bed for just a little longer, smiling at the fond memories of how amazing it’s been loving Geralt for the last 2 years. Even when you weren’t together, you did everything you could think of to subtly show your love for him. You wouldn’t trade him for the world.

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#the witcher #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #cirilla of cintra #ciri #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 months

Note

Gerlion oneshot? (If you're feeling it), just wanted to read more of your lovely book!Dandi, maybe the first time he calls geralt 'friend' and how geralt takes it?

"Are you going to eat the whole thing?" Geralt tried to sound casual, but the delicious wafting scent made the effort difficult.

He had been out of money for a few days. There was a job tomorrow, but tomorrow felt like a long way away. His stomach ached.

Dandelion blinked rapidly in horror. "Of course not!" he clasped his chest. "Half is yours. You are my friend, after all. If I have food, you have food."

The troubadour tore the pastry in half, and slid one side across the table to Geralt, muttering indignantly the entire time.

"Honestly, what do you take me for, a man who eats in front of his hungry friends. Some people-"

Geralt shoved the food in his mouth, and spoke as he chewed. "You know I'm a witcher, right?"

Dandelion harrumphed as he stuck a piece of pastry in his mouth. "And I am a poet, Geralt, we all have our credentials. You don't see me lording mine around."

Geralt finished swallowing then sighed. "No, I'm not bragging, I--I'm just," he held his hands up, "-warning you."

"What?" groused Dandelion. "Do you think I'm a bloody unicorn, will you be hunting me? What's your point, Geralt?" He took another bite.

Geralt groaned, irritated. "People say we are abominations!" he said it a little too loud.

Dandelion rolled his eyes. "And Veverka told her friends that I have a small prick. It's not true. Would you like proof?" Dandelion reached for his trousers.

"No! No!" Geralt insisted. "Stop it!"

Dandelion shrugged and stuffed the rest of the pastry in his mouth. "Alright, then I have enough coin left for two glasses of wine. Shall we go?"

Geralt looked up at the sky and gathered his wits. Then he looked back at Dandelion. "With you, I'll go anywhere my friend." Dandelion patted the side of Geralt's face. "That's more like it. Now let's get moving. I bet I can convince the barkeep to give me credit for more booze if I sing."

Geralt stood and swept his hand gallantly. "After you."

And off they went.

#the witcher #the witcher books #geralt of rivia #dandelion #gerlion #descarada writes

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

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

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solcorvidae · 4 months

Text

I've been thinking about how Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt all deal with the trials and how it shapes them into the people they would grow to become.

Lambert remembers his past. He is angry, upset, bitter, and vindictive. He's got this fire in him that is only stoked by the pain and suffering forced upon him. He remembers the boys who did not make it: the hell they all had to go through, and he has a complicated relationship with Vesemir that surrounds it. Lambert does questionable things that Geralt is bothered by in his grief and anger. Geralt calls him out for killing in cold blood, needlessly and mercilessly.

Lambert avoids Vesemir at Kaer Morhen and mocks him when he is not around. He may come off as childish and like an asshole, but Lambert knows what he feels. Lambert doesn't lash out because he can't control his emotions or because he doesn't understand the path of least resistance. He knows. He chooses to avoid conflict with Vesemir at Kaer Morhen by keeping out of his way. He knows he can't control his emotions effectively if he is face-to-face with him for too long. He knows, and he isn't stupid.

Lambert talks to Geralt about the trials and the injustice of it all. He probably looks up to Geralt, hoping his brother feels just as angry about it as he does. He went through the Trial of the Grasses twice for Christ's sake! Why is he not more angry? Why is he so apathetic?

And Geralt brushes him off time and time again. Such is life, is his attitude. We all went through it, he says. Geralt can't be upset because there is nothing he can feasibly do about it. He didn't choose to be a Witcher. He wouldn't have chosen this life. He would have some other job somewhere else, just like he told Regis. He can't change the past. He can't go back and fix something he never had control over in the first place. Besides, they can’t inflict the trials upon a new generation of kids, not anymore. It’s in the past now, so why dwell on it? What’s done is done and thank god no other kids have to suffer the way they did. It’s over. It’s time to move on.

Geralt doesn't enjoy fame. He tells Eskel this in To Bait a Forktail. Geralt is the famous twice-grassed White Wolf. He is The Witcher. The famed Geralt of Rivia. He has expectations piled upon him the size of mountains. He's got to be the perfect Witcher, he's got to be a loyal brother, a lover, and a best friend… Geralt had expectations put upon him that set him aside from the rest since he was a kid. He hates it. Underneath the banter and the wit, Geralt accepts that this is his life, but that doesn't mean he likes it. He tolerates it because it is his reality and nothing more. If he thinks about it for too long… maybe it will consume him.

"You remember her?" he asks Eskel about his mother.

Unlike Lambert, Geralt hardly knows what it means to live another life. He doesn't have that following him like it does with his brother. What little he remembers is not enough to erase the apathy drilled into him at such a young age. Maybe he has a more strict moral code than say, Lambert, (or if you want to bring in the other Witcher schools, most of the Cats and the caravan) but that doesn't make him the most ethical person on the Continent. How could you be? After all that he has endured, the things he was taught? Where do you draw the line? He kills monsters, but like in Velen, it's hard to see where the line's drawn in the sand.

Humans are monstrous too.

Eskel, however? Maybe he's jealous. He did everything right, why shouldn’t he be? He is superiorly skilled in magic, one hell of a good Witcher. He has a reputation for it. Maybe he's not as kind as your average person, but he gets the job done. He's got a more relaxed demeanour than his brothers which reveals itself in his reputation. He's reliable. He is damn good at what he does. So why does Geralt get all the attention? The fame? He clearly doesn't want it.

While Lambert got turned into a vindictive prick and Geralt became a quick-witted nihilist, Eskel? He's exactly who he should be. Why shouldn't he be praised for it like his brother? Why should he be forced to bend over backwards to accommodate people and keep up with his reputation? For what? His skills? Ha! He lives in the shadows of Geralt who's notably a good Witcher, but he's not quite as good as Eskel.

Eskel was beaten shaped into the man he is today because of the trials, his training, and everything else. Should he not get credited for that too? Why does someone who doesn't even want his fame get all the recognition? Genetic predisposition? Shouldn't his hard work be given more consideration and praise? Thank god Geralt survived the hell of being subjected to two rounds of mutagens rather than one, but why should that overshadow the efforts, the time, and the sacrifices that everyone else around him has made? Eskel is exactly the man that they intended him to be by the end of it all. He is an efficient hunter, he is outstanding with signs, and he works diligently for his reputation. He did everything right. He does everything right. Why is that not enough?

TL;DR: Lambert, Geralt and Eskel handle their traumas in different ways. Lambert gets vengeful, Geralt gets apathetic, and Eskel gets borderline jealous. (And it breaks my heart)

#this probably doesn't make as much sense as it does in my head but I tried to write it in the most coherent way that I could #this has been gnawing at me since last night I needed to get it out of my head because its eating me alive #the witcher #the witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #eskel witcher #lambert witcher #eskel tw3 #lambert tw3 #meta post #witcher meta #sol rambles #sol scribbles

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thedreamlessnights · 11 months

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Almond, Apple, & Maple - pt. 1

Geralt of Rivia x modern fem!reader (upcoming NSFW)

Synopsis: When a strange young woman crashes into your kitchen and sends you tumbling through time and space, you find yourself transported to a new world - one of monsters, magic, and witchers.

Warnings: Descriptions of vomiting and nausea, as well as blood & severe injuries.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! New Geralt series - someone please tell my brain to stop having long-winded ideas and relax? Anyway, as usual, this is the game version of Geralt and written accordingly. I'm very excited to get this story told, and I hope you all enjoy this first chapter! Comments and reblogs are extra appreciated <3

Theo is waiting when you arrive. You can see him from the porch, pacing back and forth in front of the window, the way he always does when it’s dark and you aren’t home. The sun’s just set, but with black clouds brimming the sky, you’d think it had gone to rest hours ago.

When he finally sees you, Theo lets out a meow that’s deafened by the glass and rubs his cheek against the windowpane, no doubt purring up a storm. It’s only been a few hours since you left, but you’ve missed him.

Despite your mile-long trudge through the snow and the way you’re sweating under your coat, your fingers are frozen. They fumble clumsily with your keys until the lock finally turns. Theo is immediately at your feet, nuzzling against your legs. He’s the only cat you know that doesn’t try to bolt when the door is open.

“Hey, bud,” you greet him, slightly out of breath. You slam the door shut and squat down, ignoring the protest in your thighs. The icicles of your fingers messily attempt to scratch behind his ears, but if Theo notices that you’re inept, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’ve never been more grateful for the cans of cat food nestled safely in your inner coat pocket, clinking dully against your remaining seventeen cents. There’s maybe a dollar or two more of loose change that can be scrounged up under couch cushions and in pockets and loose drawers. If you’re lucky, you might find a few crumpled bills. For this week, at least, Theo will be fed. You can’t say the same for yourself.

The house is warm and quick to thaw you out, which means your fingers start working again within a few minutes. Once they’re functional, a can of soup serves as your dinner. Thankfully, the microwave is still working. You dump the soup into a bowl and let it heat, then get Theo’s dinner ready for him.

When he’s started eating - that’s when the day’s events finally hit you.

Exhaustion is at the front of it all, thick and heavy, like a two-ton chain on your shoulders. Behind it is defeat. Defeat is exhaustion too, but different. It pulls at you from within. It isn’t your aching body or cracked, dry hands, isn't a chain or a profound sense of guilt; it’s a tiny fire within you, threatening at any moment to go out. And the inclination to let it happen.

You stare numbly at the counter, knowing the fridge is empty, knowing you have only five cans of food left until you go hungry again. Knowing that none of the job interviews have called you back, and that it’s been too long to keep up hope.

Your hands start shaking and you want to cry, but no tears come. You’ve no doubt exhausted your supply - your eyes still feel puffy and sore from the cry you had earlier. Instead, a lump locks in your throat, and something pulls in your chest, and all at once, you’re not sure you have it in you to go on.

It’s Theo that you’re worried about, more than anything else. It’d be horrible, so horrible for you to dump him off at a shelter, but it’d be even worse to see him go hungry. You’d been hoping - are still hoping - that it wouldn’t come to that, but… you can only hope so much.

The shrill sound of the microwave rouses you from your lethargy and chain of thought. Food. The smell of the soup is heavenly, and it seeps life into you as you chug it down, spreading warmth throughout your chest. But before long, it’s finished. You’re left staring at the empty bowl, still hungry. Wanting to cry again.

Theo must sense that you’re upset, because he nuzzles against you and purrs louder than ever. No tears come, but they would if you had any left. Without him, there’s nothing but a hollow life of work - if you can even find it - and isolation. How can you possibly think about survival when there’s nothing to survive for?

“What am I going to do?” you ask aloud, swallowing hard. You rub your temples and your words ring out in the silence, as if some response might come. Nothing. Of course, nothing.

It feels wrong to be sitting still like this. More than ever, you should be doing something. Yes, you need to move. The water in the sink is ice-cold and won’t heat, but you scrub the dishes anyway and dry them. Clean the counters. Sweep the floor. Organize the cabinets.

These miniscule tasks keep you sane. They keep you from thinking.

Padding up to you, Theo stretches up and paws at your legs, clearly wanting to be held. You take him in your arms and hold him close, burying your face into his fur and kissing the soft little spot between his ears. He purrs louder and wriggles from your grip, making his way into your coat pocket and tucking himself into a comfortable position. He’s always been small, and likes being in there, for some reason. You hadn’t even realized you were still wearing the stupid coat.

There must be some way to keep him, right? Someone willing to watch him, just for a little while? But who? And how could you ever repay them?

A flash of sudden, searing light interrupts your thoughts.

It comes out of nowhere and instantly spreads through your kitchen, brighter than you can stand, a ghostly hue of green. Just as you’ve shut your eyes to block it out, something rams into your shoulder and knocks the wind out of you.

Your arm instinctively wraps in front of Theo as you stumble back. Your ribs burn with a hot, throbbing pain, and you search for breath that doesn’t come - gasping airlessly, sweat trickling down your neck until you finally taste oxygen. Oh, and your shoulder is jammed and aching too, but it’s clearly the least of your worries, because the room has started spinning.

This is no gentle turn, no light sway of the ocean. It’s vertigo. The world is coming apart. You can see nothing but a black void as reality breaks at the seams and drags you with it. Nausea and disorientation wash over you until it’s all you can do to hold on to your dinner; hot, stinging bile in your throat, aching ribs. It hurts to breathe. Your knees buckle and legs crumple until you hit what should be hard ground, but it’s nothing. You’re falling. Theo starts wailing and digs his claws into your chest.

You’re on the sea, crashing in the thunderous waves, taking in mouthfuls of the salty water and coughing it back out - sinuses burning. You’re in an earthquake, gravel rattling beneath your hands like the ground might collapse under you, swallow you whole.

You’re in soft grass, crawling on all fours, not knowing what’s real and what’s not. Your head throbs in rhythm with your heart and your body feels like it’s closing in on itself, compressing, bones bending. And all at once, it stops.

You immediately lose your dinner.

Thick, burning acid climbs up your throat again and again until you’re left retching, stomach churning. Theo meows fitfully in your coat, but you can’t move to let him out. With how hard you’re shaking, it’s hard to do anything but collapse onto your side. Then he finally worms his way out of your pocket and sits on your chest, wailing some more.

The bright light hasn’t faded, and you blink a few times and squint until you finally realize it’s the sun. Warm, golden light is shining down on you. Which would be lovely, if it wasn’t seven o’clock at night and the middle of winter. You’re dry, too, so your memories of the ocean clearly weren’t real.

I must have hit my head, you think. Exhaustion must have gotten the best of you, and you’d collapsed, hit your head, and hallucinated all of this. But when you finally gain the strength to sit up, setting Theo at your side, your thoughts stall in place.

There’s a young, ashen-haired woman lying unconscious next to you, and a wound on her abdomen is oozing blood. At first, she doesn’t seem real. But she’s warm when you lay a hand on her arm, and the ground has stopped spinning, so you figure she is. And she’s hurt.

Your hands move of their own accord, twitching, knowing that you should do something to help but not knowing what. In medical terms, you’re mostly clueless. Thankfully, when you carefully lift her shirt up from the abdomen, the wound doesn’t seem very deep. There’s bruising there too, deep violet blooming around her navel, but it’s her head that’s really scaring you.

On her temple is a swollen lump, not bleeding much - but it’s the internal damage that you worry about. Sure, you’d been trained in CPR when you were younger, but you have no idea how to treat an injury like this. The first thing you do is make sure she’s breathing. Then you find her pulse, strong and even under your fingers. Those things encourage you.

You know that you should stop the bleeding, too. Clean the wound. Unfortunately, the only possessions you have at the moment are your coat and the seventeen cents left in the inner pocket. And Theo. Not exactly suited for fixing this sort of thing.

Her clothes are… strange. They almost look like a costume, if the leather didn’t look so real, so meticulously fitted. And she has two swords at her back, though she’s clearly not in any position to use them. Not important, you chide yourself. The number of questions you have about what just happened is only growing and growing. But you can deal with those once she’s been treated.

Your gaze catches a pouch on the girl’s belt, and you pull it open and lay out her things, muttering an apology under your breath for invading her privacy. Inside are a handful of strange-looking coins, a vial or two of substances you don’t recognize, and a roll of cotton bandages. When you open the vials and give them a whiff, both are their own disgusting, putrid odor, and neither are identifiable. Shuddering at the smell, you replace their corks and return them to the pouch. Which leaves only the bandages.

As cautiously as you can, you wrap them around her abdomen in an effort to stop the bleeding. It seems to staunch the blood flow. Somewhat. You don’t dare to move her or touch her head - nothing to be done about that here without the risk of making it worse. So you stand up with still-shaking legs and take stock of your surroundings.

Green fields. As far as the eye can see, there are green fields with blooming wildflowers and bees buzzing from one spot to the next. Birds chirp in the distance, a bubbling stream lies about twenty feet away, and the sun is warmer than ever. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was spring. You have to take off your coat and tie it around your waist to ward off the growing heat.

There’s some form of wooden shack on the horizon, but you don’t feel right leaving the woman alone. Still, isn’t it better to get her some help? Should you be trying to wake her up? After a moment’s hesitation, you give her shoulder a slight shake, and she stirs. Another shake rouses her completely.

She flinches and sits up with a start - halting the action with a pained yelp as she cradles an arm around her stomach, grimacing. Finally, her green eyes, so bright they almost appear to be glowing, land on you. “Wh-where am I?” she asks faintly, sounding as if she’s not quite conscious. “Who are you?”

Good questions, you think. But you have so few answers.

“I have no idea where we are,” you start. “This place just… appeared. I was in my kitchen, and - then I was here.” It’s a pathetic explanation, but it’s what you have. After a pause, you give her your name, too. You want to say more, but your mouth closes on its own. You don’t know what just happened, and you’re in no position to explain it.

“I see,” she says, voice tinged with effort as she straightens up. Her gaze lands on Theo, calmly laying beside you, and her lips quirk into a small smile - contrasting ghastly with her greying skin. “And who is this little one?” she asks.

“This is Theo,” you answer softly.

“Ciri,” she reveals. “I’m… Ciri. I’d say it’s nice to meet you both, but...” She trails off, shaking her head. The movement sends blood trickling from her temple down her cheek. “It seems I’m a little worse for wear at the moment,” she lightly remarks, though her tone can’t hide the exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes. “Help me up?”

It’s easier said than done.

You manage to get her standing and haul her arm over your shoulder as support, but she’s stumbling rather than walking. The sun is scorching hot and merciless, and you find yourself immediately missing the snow. You can’t stop here.

The grey shade of Ciri’s skin gets worse and worse the further on you go. Her steps get progressively clumsier too, like her legs have started to spasm. Finally, her knees simply give out and she collapses, panting as she plants her gloved hands on the grass. The shack isn’t far now, but she’s bled through her bandages. It seems the wound was worse than you thought. At least Theo is obediently following behind the two of you, and seems to be enjoying this strange adventure.

“Only a little further,” you tell Ciri, even though you’re shaking with overextension and every inch of you hurts. Even though you know in your gut what the odds against her are.

She nods, gritting her teeth in determination, so you prop your shoulder under her arm and help her up. It’s worse this time. She’s a dead weight. You’re practically dragging her. But something anxious - manic, even - buzzes under your skin, fills your breath, surges strength to leadened muscles. Your thoughts trip over one another again and again until you find the word. Adrenaline. It’s the only reason you’re still walking.

The two of you have just made it through the door of the shack when she collapses again, tilting her head back against the wall as she gulps in air, pressing her hand against her abdomen.

You’re suddenly overtaken by the fear that she’ll die and leave you here alone. That you’ll be left with a corpse, a hollow, rotting shell of a girl you barely know. You want to ask her if she has any last wishes, if there’s anything you can do. But, seeing as she clearly hasn’t given up on life yet, it seems cruel to start bringing up death.

Instead, your hands, forever busy, start rummaging through the shack’s cabinets and drawers. You find a few small treasures: a bottle of spirit, some dried fruit and meat, and a length of clean (or, at least, it looks clean) cloth. You don’t waste a moment before returning to Ciri, undoing her blood-soaked bandages to press the cloth against the wound.

She softly cries out as you apply pressure, but makes no move to stop you. Her body lies limp as you work. Then you secure the cloth with the old bandages, tying them as tight as you dare. Her stomach is still bruised, after all, and she’s clearly in pain. At least her face looks less grey now. A little.

“Well, well. What’ve you got there?” she asks, her gaze turning toward the floor, where your newly-found treasures lie.

“Some kind of spirit, I think,” you tell her, picking up the bottle and examining it.

“Give it here?”

You hand it over without hesitance. She bites off the cork, spits it on the floor, and takes a whiff of the liquid inside. Finding it acceptable, she downs a large swig and tilts her head back again, sighing in relief. Yes, she’s definitely less grey now.

She can’t be very old. What happened to her? Who did this to her? You’re suddenly filled with blind anger. A helplessness that you can’t do more, can’t even comfort her. Theo must be sharing your line of thought, because he crawls onto her lap and starts purring, tucking himself into a circle.

“Thank you very much, Theo,” she says weakly, petting his back. She takes another swig from the bottle, then closes her eyes. You linger near the window, fighting the urge to pace around the room. You’re just about to ask her what happened to her when the rapid sound of hoofbeats approaches.

“Ciri!” a voice calls. Deep - coarse. Warm. The hair on your neck stands up at the sound of it. From fear or anticipation, you don’t know.

“In here,” she responds. She doesn’t bother yelling, just speaks the words as if they’re meant for you. You doubt whoever it is out there can hear her, but he comes inside anyway, bursting through the door like he’s afraid it won’t open.

You immediately gape at the sight of him, thoughts conflicting. This stranger, he’s tall, and broad, and beautiful. And a little scary. You should be afraid of him. He clearly thinks you hurt Ciri, from his expression. You should move, or explain, but you can’t. You just stare at him.

He stalls at the doorway, taking in the sight of her with wide eyes, looking almost pained. You can’t tell what color they are - his eyes - but as they rake over the extent of her wounds, something hardens in his gaze. Then it turns to you. He takes a slow step forward, muscles pulled tense like he’s waiting for a fight, watching you the way one watches a venomous snake. Do you imagine the way his hand instinctively twitches toward his blade?

“Geralt,” Ciri says, sounding immensely relieved. “It’s alright. She helped me.”

At her words, he instantly relaxes, gaze turning away from you as he steps over to Ciri and squats down at her side. Your head’s begun spinning again.

“Geralt, is that Ciri?” a distorted, cool-toned voice asks. “Is she there?” The words seem to have come from the air - you can’t see a source for this new speaker. Then Geralt pulls out a small metal box from his belt and holds it up toward his mouth. Like a phone.

“She’s here.”

The response comes through the box again. “Don’t move.” And, apparently, the voice doesn’t wait for an answer. Ten seconds later, a swirling circle of light appears in the midst of the room and a dark-haired woman walks out of it.

“Ciri,” she murmurs, going pale. The word is half relief, half fear, and her voice is much clearer now that it isn’t coming from the strange box. She kneels at Ciri’s side, tucking bloodied hair out of her face. “Come with me,” she says. “We must get you out of here, get you somewhere safe.”

“Not going to argue with that,” Ciri says, attempting a laugh. The sound cuts off in pain. The dark-haired woman purses her lips, then helps her to her feet, half-carrying Ciri the way you did. The two of them walk toward the swirling circle of light together, and you watch them helplessly - not knowing if you should say something.

At the last moment, just before they’ve entered, Ciri angles herself toward you. “Wait - I forgot to thank you for your help,” she says. “You may have just saved my life. I can’t repay you at the moment, but… thank you.”

Frozen, you simply nod in response, watching as the two of them step into the light together. Ciri’s words swirl through your mind restlessly. There’s a flash, then both of them are simply gone. Vanished into the air. And, a moment later, the circle fades.

Leaving you and Geralt alone.

You stare at him across the room, and he stares back at you, looking even more confused than you feel. You’ve seen a fair amount of insanity in your life, but never anything like this. You can’t even begin to process what you’ve just seen. And, funnily enough, you’ve never felt more alone in your life, even with his company.

Now that Ciri isn’t here, you can take in the sight of him fully. Dark leather armor, snow-white hair, and two swords strung on his back. Like Ciri.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were wearing costumes. But Ciri’s blood is much too real on your hands, and so is this… weird, fucked reality that you’re in, sunny when it should be winter, daytime when it should be night, you have no idea where you are, and - fuck. What the hell is happening?

Your feet move to take a step toward the table - to sit down, think all of this over. But something strange happens when you move. Your body starts shuddering and the ground below you suddenly feels unstable. Your head throbs and your legs feel strangely light. Instead of taking a step toward the table, your knees tumble out from under you.

Or they would have. If Geralt hadn’t caught you.

tags:

@henryownsme @madamemelancholysstuff @fullmoonshadowwrites @darkscrossfire @beforethepen @julijal @ailynyan @ivuravix

(So sorry if you didn't want to be tagged! If you’d only like to be tagged for my other series, Accismus, please let me know and I'll happily fix that for future works ❤️)

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #game!geralt #geralt/reader #geralt/you #mywriting

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handwrittenhello · 1 year

Text

Don't Look

T, 3k, no warnings, suspense and hurt/comfort

"Close your eyes!" Geralt yelled as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. "Don't look at it!"

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and waited to be torn apart by sharp claws.

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Jaskier couldn’t see.

He sniffed—his nose itched—and swore as he stumbled again, the toe of his boot catching on a protruding tree root that seemed, like every other fucking plant in this forest, determined to trip him specifically.

“Lift your feet higher,” Geralt coached him, his voice always maddeningly out of reach. It was his damn job to guide Jaskier out of the forest, and if Jaskier were feeling uncharitable about it—which he was, ow—he’d say that Geralt was doing a rather shit job of it.

Of course, it was only thanks to Geralt that he hadn’t walked off a cliff or into a nest of ghouls by that point, so Jaskier kept wisely mum.

“Easy for you to say when I can’t fucking see,” Jaskier griped, but did his best to lengthen his strides, feeling a little like a dog forced into a pair of woolen socks.

The reason for such a charade was the strip of cloth bound tightly around his head, brushing against his eyelashes whenever he twitched and obscuring his vision completely.

“How much farther?” he asked, hoping that the plaintive note in his voice didn’t translate as whining. But he was tired, he was stressed, and he’d really have rather been in town safe in the inn, away from the creature hunting them.

Hunting Jaskier.

It had caught his scent, as Geralt explained, latched onto him like a cat zeroed onto its prey, and it wouldn’t be satisfied until it got its meal.

But he was safe with Geralt—safe as long as he kept the blindfold on.

Geralt had yelled, “Close your eyes!” as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. “Don’t look at it!”

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier had slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and had waited to be torn apart by sharp claws with his heart racing.

He had stood there quaking, wishing desperately to flee but not knowing where to turn, while Geralt had grunted and yelled and swung his sword, finally succeeding in driving the creature off—but not killing it, he’d said grimly as he tied the scrap of torn shirt around Jaskier’s head. “It feeds mainly on fear,” he’d explained. “It’s already chosen you. If you lay eyes on it, it will never let your mind go. Most go mad with it.”

“Most?”

“The rest die of fear.”

Jaskier, who quite strongly valued his sanity and his life, thank you very much, kept the blindfold firmly in place as Geralt guided him out of the forest.

“A mile, maybe,” Geralt said in answer to his previous question. “Watch out, there’s—”

“Fuck.”

“—a branch,” Geralt finished lamely.

“You know, if you just carried me, that would be much less painful for all parties involved,” Jaskier complained, rubbing at his cheek where the branch had caught.

“I need my hands free,” Geralt repeated, as he had the other two times Jaskier had suggested it—the first jokingly, the second, so what if he wanted to feel a little like a damsel in distress?

“Well, there has to be a better way to do this,” Jaskier said crossly. “Instead of you warning me two seconds too late and me gaining numerous cuts and bruises.” Plus, he didn’t say, he was scared at their slow progress. The creature was still out there, tracking them, and it made his skin tingle with goosebumps to think that it was watching him stumble around like a fool, easy prey.

Geralt sighed, stopping in his tracks—something Jaskier discovered when he ran into his back with a small oof. “Here,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt something prodding at his hand—Geralt’s own gloved hand, twining between his fingers.

It did make Jaskier feel some small measure better, the assurance that Geralt was right there with him, even if he couldn’t see him.

“Much better,” he proclaimed, gripping Geralt’s hand tightly.

“Hmm.”

They continued through the forest, twigs snapping underneath Jaskier’s clumsy strides, but there were considerably fewer injuries on his part—with little tugs to his hand here and there, Geralt directed him around the worst of the obstacles in their path.

Jaskier couldn’t tell how far along they were, but it felt like a couple hundred paces later when he heard it. A crack, a snap, a scrape—something was behind them. He broke out into a cold sweat.

“Geralt,” he said tremulously, though of course Geralt had heard it. He’d probably heard it long before Jaskier, even.

“I know,” Geralt said, though he reassured Jaskier with a quick squeeze of his hand. “Don’t turn around. Keep the blindfold on.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Right. Easy. Just don’t look.”

“Just don’t look,” Geralt confirmed. “It can’t hurt you yet.”

Jaskier laughed, a wild, panicked thing. “That’s really not comforting.” His feet itched to go faster, faster, to outrun the thing slowly hunting them down.

“Easy,” Geralt murmured, like he did to Roach sometimes when she spooked. Jaskier would be annoyed, had he any room for emotions beyond terror.

“Mhm, look how calm I am. I’m totally calm. See how totally calm I am?” Jaskier rambled. “Definitely not thinking about how a terrifying massive monster twenty feet behind me could rip me to shreds at any moment.”

“It wouldn’t. They prefer to feed slowly.”

If Jaskier’s right hand were free he might have punched the witcher.

“Keep talking,” Geralt suddenly urged, such an odd request that it fully knocked Jaskier out of his terrified thoughts for a second. “Tell me about the song you’re working on right now.”

“Erm, well…” Jaskier began, then cleared the tremors from his voice. “It’s—it’s a canso, an adaptation of Master Osterwitt’s second collection of love poems…” He described the song so far, how he’d split it into four verses to complement the theme of the four seasons the poet lived through, how he’d altered the slant rhymes to be more accessible to the public listener, how he’d started out composing for lute but had then switched to harp, and was planning on presenting it to the famed Johanna of Murivel if she wished to perform it at the Oxenfurt Yule festival.

As he talked, he realized that the soft grass beneath his boots was thinning, giving way to the pebbled ground of the road into town. “Geralt? Are we almost there?” he asked, aching to rip the blindfold away and see the blessed sight of a town lit by lanterns and candles.

“Nearly. Don’t stop,” Geralt instructed, tugging him forward.

Pebbles scattered underneath Jaskier’s boots, their hiss and rattle covering up the sounds of the slavering beast behind them. He felt his heels tread upon wooden planks, and then heard the swing of the inn door on its hinges, followed by a wave of warmth caressing his face. It felt like safety given form.

Geralt led him forward, whatever crowd there may have been parting easily beneath the witcher’s gaze, as it always did without Jaskier there to grease the wheels of social interaction.

“Steps, thirteen of them,” Geralt instructed, pausing for a moment until Jaskier tentatively lifted his foot and began to climb.

“Can’t I just—” Jaskier started to ask, swiftly cut off by Geralt.

“No. Don’t take it off, not until it’s dead.”

Jaskier swallowed heavily. “You’re—you’re going back out there, aren’t you.”

“Yes.” Another door swinging open, this one to their room, judging by the acoustics. Geralt nudged Jaskier forward until his shins hit the soft give of a mattress, then pushed lightly on his shoulders until Jaskier turned and sat. “Stay here.”

Jaskier knew there was no use in arguing or begging Geralt to stay—yet he wanted to anyway. Instead, he looked up to where Geralt’s face would be and smiled wanly. “Be safe,” he said, as he always did whenever they parted.

“Stay here,” Geralt repeated, and then his heavy boots walked off, leaving Jaskier alone in the darkness, with nothing to do but wait for his return.

He breathed in deeply, then out, then swung his legs up onto the bed and settled back against the wall, fingers itching for his lute or his songbook. He knew it would only make a mess of things if he stumbled around like a drunkard trying to find his things, though, so he sat and composed rhymes in his head, sketching out the beginnings of today’s tale—a creature fed by fear, a brave bard its prey…

Ten minutes had perhaps passed when a voice suddenly rose from the distance. “Jaskier!”

“Geralt?” Jaskier quickly stood, shuffle-feeling his way towards the window and wrenching it open. He shivered in the cool breeze that filtered in. “Geralt!”

He was sure that had been Geralt’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, gravelly and deep, yet always with an undercurrent of kindness.

Only the hoot of an owl met his call. Jaskier waited, tense, the hair on the back of his neck prickling like someone was watching him. Paranoia rose inside of him. Had Geralt shut the door behind him when he left? Anyone or anything could have entered the room without Jaskier even knowing. What if there was someone right there behind him, watching, able to just reach out and—

Jaskier whirled around, breath caught in his throat, and blindly lashed out. His hands met nothing but air.

Of course. He was only being stupid, getting caught up in his own mind. Of course there was nobody there, and he’d probably imagined Geralt’s voice too, just his mind playing tricks on him in his naked desperation for Geralt to return.

Jaskier took another deep breath and turned around to shut the window, when suddenly another cry split the night. “Jaskier!”

He hadn’t imagined that. “Geralt!” he called, half-strangled and laced with panic.

“Jaskier, help!” Geralt yelled, more fear and pain in his voice than Jaskier had ever heard before, and it sent ice straight through his heart. Oh, gods, Geralt was out there alone with the creature, likely wounded, maybe even dying!

Uncaring of how he stubbed his toes and sent things toppling over, Jaskier felt around the room until he felt the rough canvas of Geralt’s pack beneath his fingers. He almost ripped it open in his haste to dig out the sack of vials and bottles, valuable potions that Jaskier knew could save him from even the most gruesome wounds.

“Geralt, I’m coming!” Jaskier screamed, unsure if the witcher could even hear him. He stumbled gracelessly to his feet and down the stairs, the bag of potions clinking in his rough grip, like the bells that heralded newcomers to the afterlife.

“The door, where’s the door?” he pleaded to whomever was nearest him, not caring if he looked like a crazed man. Geralt needed him.

“What—this way, it’s this way,” a female voice guided him, and he stumbled in her direction, until he felt carved wood beneath his fingers and pushed the door open.

“Geralt!” he yelled again, running forward and nearly tripping over his own boots. Which direction, which direction?

“Jaskier! Here!” he heard distantly, somewhere to his left. He adjusted course, diving into the forest without a care for how branches whipped at his face and hands.

“I’m coming! Keep—keep talking, I don’t know where—” Jaskier shouted, then tripped over a rock and fell harshly to the ground. His palms scraped against rock, stinging and bringing tears of pain to his eyes. He scrambled back up.

“Jaskier!” Geralt screamed again, followed by an almost wordless howl, a pure vocalization of anguish and pain. Jaskier wanted to vomit.

They prefer to feed slowly echoed in Jaskier’s mind. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jaskier chanted, propelling himself forward until all he could feel was the beat of his feet against the ground and his heart against his ribs.

“Jaskier!” Another shout, this one echoing from behind him. Jaskier skidded to a stop. Had he gone too far? Fuck, fuck, valuable time was running out— “Jaskier, no!”

No what? “Geralt! Where are you?!” Jaskier shouted back, turning around but remaining planted in place, now filled with uncertainty. What a stupid plan this had been, running headlong into the forest blind with no thoughts except to find Geralt.

“Jaskier! I’m here, Jaskier!” This time coming from behind him again. Jaskier whirled around and started running, but only got two paces before Geralt shouted again from the opposite direction. “Jaskier, come here!”

There were two distinct, separate voices. One behind him, one in front of him. Both urgent, both calling to him. And he had no way of knowing which was the real one.

One was certainly the monster, or else some dark magic of some kind. Jaskier had heard of no spells nor creatures that could do such a thing, but there were many new and terrifying things in the world he encountered every day. The other might have been the real Geralt, or might have been another trick.

Perhaps the real Geralt had already bled out onto the forest floor. Perhaps the creature had killed him, fed on his soul, and stolen his voice, sharing it among others of its kind. Perhaps the only evidence Geralt had ever lived at all would be the echo of his stolen voice endlessly passed around by evil, hungry creatures.

“Jaskier! Jaskier!”

Jaskier sobbed once, pressing the palm of his hand into his mouth to muffle any further sounds. He would never know. He could never know.

“Jaskier! Help, please, help—”

“Jaskier! Get away from it, run!”

“Jaskier! This way, run, come here—”

Jaskier screamed, an explosion of sound tearing its way out of his throat. He jammed his hands over his ears and sank to his knees, Geralt’s endless cries still echoing around him, slightly muted but not enough to matter.

“No, no, no,” Jaskier sobbed, bending double over his knees, pressing his forehead to the mossy ground. “Please, stop!”

Over and over the voices cried out. Jaskier's mind was a whirl of sound and fear bouncing endlessly. He quaked where he knelt. He waited for his end.

There was no telling how much time had passed, if it had passed at all—if Jaskier had simply existed in a perpetual loop forever. Something touched the back of his neck, and it was enough to propel him out of his spiral of doom into action. Self-preservation and animal instinct won, and Jaskier scrambled backwards until his back slammed into a boulder. He stayed there cringing, expecting to feel death’s embrace, but nothing touched him again.

“Jaskier?”

Gods, no. Let it be over. Please let it be over, he couldn’t take any more of this—

“Jaskier, it’s me. The creature is dead.”

“It’s—it’s—it’s not you, it’s—it can’t—” Jaskier stuttered, his hands still clamped tightly over his ears. “It’s not you!”

Something crunched closer over the leaves. Jaskier’s breath caught. Something touched his face—

The blindfold fell from his eyes, cool night air rushing in and making his eyes water, but Jaskier kept them tightly closed. If he didn’t look, it couldn’t hurt him. If he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him. That was what Geralt—that was what he’d said, the very last time Jaskier ever saw him—would ever see him—

“Jaskier, open your eyes. It’s alright.”

It sounded like Geralt. It sounded just like Geralt, tired from a hunt but safe, whole, right in front of Jaskier.

If Jaskier was going to die, he decided, he wanted to do it with his eyes open, not cringing on the forest floor with his eyes shut. He forced them open, bracing for the worst.

In front of him was Geralt. Geralt, unharmed, spattered with black ichor, but whole and safe and in front of him. “G-Geralt?” Jaskier asked tremulously. This wasn’t another trick, was it?

He didn’t care if it was. He didn’t care if they were both dead. Jaskier threw himself forward into Geralt’s waiting arms, clinging to solid, warm flesh. He was openly crying, now, tears streaming down his face and clutching desperately at Geralt’s armor, his hair, his shirt, everything his could reach.

“It’s okay, Jaskier. I killed it. You’re safe.” Geralt’s voice, his real voice, rumbled against the shell of Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier could have wept to hear it if he weren’t already weeping.

“It—it—I heard—” Jaskier tried, but couldn’t gather coherent thought enough to finish.

“I know,” Geralt comforted. “It can mimic. I should have warned you.” A deep sigh, one that ruffled Jaskier’s hair. “Should have known you’d come after me.”

“It—you were hurt, you called for help,” Jaskier explained pathetically. Geralt sighed again.

“That explains why half my potion bottles are smashed.” Jaskier tensed up again, and Geralt clutched him closer. “It’s alright, I can make more. But don’t ever come after me again. If I die, I die. Don’t die too.”

Jaskier forced out a bitter laugh. “I think you know that’s not happening. I’ll always come for you. Always.”

“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t pleased, but Jaskier couldn’t have been happier. As long as his witcher was alive, Jaskier would always be happy. “Come on. Back to the inn, so I can get paid.” He gathered Jaskier up and abruptly lifted him, carrying him exactly like a damsel in distress.

Jaskier was quite content to be carried to the inn like that, until Geralt stooped down to grab something else. Something that squelched. “What--?” Jaskier started to ask, then blanched. The monster’s head. He slammed his eyes shut, tucking his head into Geralt’s shoulder. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Jaskier.” Geralt jostled his shoulder a little nudging Jaskier out. “Look at it. It’s alright.”

Jaskier shook his head.

“I killed it,” Geralt explained patiently. “There’s no need for fear. This will help.”

Reluctantly, Jaskier peeled his eyes open, taking a few fortifying breaths. Then he looked, curiosity winning out.

It was… small. That was Jaskier’s first thought. About the size of an apple, partially covered in fur, bloodied, but surprisingly… underwhelming. No wicked teeth or crazed eyes. No sharp claws or poisonous fangs. Just… dead.

“It’s… it’s dead,” Jaskier said, feeling something deep inside him release. “You killed it, and it’s dead.”

“Yes.” Then Geralt bent, slung it over his shoulder, and continued on. “You don’t need to fear it anymore.”

Jaskier had been scared for so long, it felt like he didn’t know any other way to be. He was very tired, wrung out, and ready to spend a solid week in Geralt’s arms. They were both alive, the monster was dead, and they were on the way back to the inn.

Nothing else mattered.

#lol the title is Don't Look you can look at this post it's okay #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfiction

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