#geralt x ofc

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Forever And A Day

Title: Forever And A Day

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Geralt x Black!OFC 

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Warnings: pining, soft!Geralt, oral sex (f receiving), attempted oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: I used a prompt from this post by @creativepromptsforwriting: “I told you we would see each other again.” Found inspiration from this post from a tag game on tumblr. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Her hickory-colored eyes stay on his mind for days leading up to when he will get to visit her. Along the path, there aren’t many moments to look forward to. But to see the look on her face after all this time? That moment is worth all the orens on the continent.

Geralt takes notice of himself more intently. He bathes in a lake, ridding himself of the scent of horses and the remnants of the Fleder that he killed earlier. As he washes his hair, the water around him goes from crystal clear to opaque. He carefully washes his skin, every scar on display, rinsing off the suds from the soap he bought in the last town.

The strong aroma of rosemary and lavender calms his nerves as it clings to his skin. He thinks of how different he must look after the last time they were together. Fresh marks litter his skin at different stages of healing. His hair is a bit longer, enough to warrant him tying it up on most days. 

After dressing in fresh clothes, he hefts on his boots. Stuffing his soiled clothing within the pack that Roach wears, he lifts a leg to put his foot in the stirrup. Roach huffs and moves just out of reach. Geralt raises a brow, moving closer to Roach and lifting his leg again. The chestnut mare groans and steps away from him again.

“What has gotten into you?” Geralt asks, scratching behind her ear. Roach thrusts her snout in his direction, snorting as she takes in his new scent. He smiles, his large hand moving to stroke her muzzle gently. “Don’t worry, Roach. When we get to her cottage, I’m sure Lavinia will take her time pampering you. She always does. Brushing you, putting flowers in your hair, and she may even have a treat or two for you.” Roach nickers and allows Geralt to climb atop the saddle again for the tail end of the journey. 

Less than two hours later, they reach the road that leads to her homestead. With his keen eyes, he can already see her. She tends her garden, kneeling to pick the ripened vegetables and herbs that grow thanks to her green thumb. The crunching of pebbles and dirt under boots and hooves alerts her to their approach. 

Brown eyes meet yellow, and the rest of the world vanishes. 

Lavinia looks away, placing the wicker basket full of nature’s bounty on the ground before standing to her full height. She dusts off her apron, moving an errant curl from her face. By the time she looks up, she is face-to-chest with the man she thought she would never get to see again. 

Geralt uses a hand to lift her chin, delicately stroking his thumb against her jaw. He inhales her scent, a heady perfume of sweet honeysuckle, and the kindling fire burning between her thighs. He growls lowly, his body reacting to her arousal. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against hers as her hands clutch the front of his chemise.

Closing the gap between them, her lips graze his tentatively, as if unsure that the kiss is wanted. His answering groan of satisfaction is all the incentive she needs. Tilting her head, she captures his lips, swallowing his hum of approval. She welcomes his endeavor to take over the kiss when his tongue prods at the seam of her lips.

As she allows his tongue entry, his hand tangles in her hair while his other hand snakes around her waist to bring her impossibly closer. He tastes the berries she ate earlier¾tart yet sweet. Devouring her moans, he can hear her heart beating faster inside her ribcage. Her slippery tongue against his is almost too much, as his growing arousal presses against her.

He slows the kiss to a lazy meeting of their lips, only slightly less intense than their previous activity. She reaches up to cradle his face as she breaks the kiss. They stand there in the garden, breathing each other’s air for but a moment, when a low nicker comes from the ignored chestnut mare.

“She missed you as well,” he laughs, looking at Roach.

Breaking away from Geralt, Lavinia turns to smile at the horse. “My dear sweet Roach, has he been treating you well?” She bends to reach into her basket for an apple, feeding it to his trusted companion.

It brings warmth to his heart as he watches their interaction. Roach happily snorts as she receives attention. He could get used to hearing Lavinia’s laughter as it echoed in the wind around them. Grabbing Roach by the reigns, she walks toward the small stable behind her cottage.

“Let’s get her settled. Bring that basket along with you,” she calls over her shoulder.

Geralt smiles, watching the two of them in the stable. Lavinia takes her time brushing Roach’s coat. Combing out her mane, she braids in some wildflowers. Adding a ribbon at the end, she smiles at her handiwork before glancing at Geralt. Giving Roach one last scratch behind the ear, she walks over to him and tucks a strand of milk-white hair behind his ear. 

Geralt looks down at her, and his lips twist in a sinister smile. She yelps as he bends quickly to lift her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. He grabs the basket on his way out of the stable and walks into the warm, cozy cottage. Setting the basket on the dining table, he continues on his way to her bedroom.

Letting her down, he walks her backward until the backs of her knees meet the edge of the bed. Pushing gently on her chest, he helps her lay back. He kneels on the floor between her spread legs to remove her boots. Smoothing his hands over her stockings, he hooks his fingers in the top of them, guiding them down her toned thighs and calves, letting them pool on the floor.

Wrapping a hand around her foot, he lifts it to kiss her from ankle to thigh. Mirroring the action on the other side, he continues to kiss higher and higher up her leg until his mouth hovers over her apex. His warm breath ghosting over her mound sends a shiver up her spine, making her hips raise slightly.

“Please, Geralt. I need you,” she whispers, her breasts heaving with her erratic breathing.

Leaning in, he licks a stripe between her outer labia, his tongue splitting her in two as it gathers her nectar. Swirling around her engorged nub, he sucks it between his lips. She attempts to enclose his head between her thighs, but he grips her flesh and holds her open to him. When her folds open, he dives in headfirst to lap up the slick that escapes her.

He turns his attention back to her pearl as he begins to use a single finger to tease at her opening. Listening to the sounds she makes, he knows that she is so close. Sliding his finger inside her, he sets an excruciatingly slow pace. Twisting and turning his digit inside her, he feels for her inner bundle of nerves. 

Once he finds it, he inserts another finger. Rubbing small circles into her spongy center, he presses in harder until her walls clamp down around him. He continues to flick his tongue against her sweet spot as she moans and gasps through her climax. When she has calmed down, he removes his fingers and sucks them into his mouth.

He stands, climbing between her legs and pulling his chemise over his head. As he does so, she sits up. She runs her hands over his scarred skin, his yellow eyes following her movement as her hands lower to the hem of his pants. She makes quick work of the buttons and is rewarded when his girthy member springs up in front of her.

She wraps a small hand around him, finding she needs to use both to encircle him. She strokes him slowly, her eyes widening as pre-cum leaks from his thick tip. Using a thumb, she gathers his seed and swirls it around his mushroom head. She leans in, licking a stripe over the underside of his length, earning a low growl from him.

He removes himself from her hands, knowing he won’t last if she uses her hot mouth on him. He kisses the frown off her face, covering her body with his own. “As much as I would love to feel your mouth on me, the urge to be inside you in a different way is much too appealing to ignore,” he hums, using one hand to tease her petals with his erection.

Gathering her wetness, he taps the tip against her sweet spot, then slides between her lower lips. Once sheathed inside her, they hissed in unison. Her, at the feeling of fullness. Him, at the tight fit of her warmth. He sits there, allowing her to get used to his tumescence.

As her legs wrap around his hips, she tilts her pelvis just slightly, and he knows she is ready for him. He retracts his hips until just the head remains inside then thrusts in fully. He does it again and again, setting a punishing pace.

The sounds of her moans and his grunts mixed with the slapping of slick flesh, fill the air. The intoxicating smell of their pheromones blends into a spicy, sweet bouquet. As his hips piston inside her walls, he kisses her yet again, feasting on her lips and taking her breath away.

He breaks the kiss, nibbling her jaw and licking at her sweat-slicked neck. She turns her head to give him better access, whimpering as he sucks a hickey into her flesh. His tongue soothes the tender skin as he feels her depths begin to quiver around him.

He snakes a hand between them to toy with her swollen button. The pad of his thumb brings her to her second orgasm of the night. He picks up the pace as he journeys toward his release. His hips stutter soon enough as he thrusts deep inside her to bury himself to the hilt. He fills her, painting her walls with enough spend that it begins to leak past his softening thickness.

He presses a kiss on her throat before moving to lay next to her once he slips from her folds. He opens his arm, and she rests her head on his chest. Throwing a leg over his, she tangles a hand in his chest hair. 

“I’m so glad you made it back to me, Geralt,” she beams, idly drawing patterns across his skin.

“I told you we would see each other again. No one, man or monster, could keep me away from my love for long,” he reassures, closing his eyes. He hears her heartbeat quicken and smiles to himself.

She lifts her head to look at him, bringing a hand to his face. Raising his head, he meets her lips in an unhurried kiss. He tangles his tongue with hers until he takes the lead. He reaches down to grasp her leg, maneuvering her to be on top as he sits up.

She wraps her arms around his neck, breaking the kiss to rest their foreheads together. “I love you, Geralt.”

He looks into her eyes, seeing their future together in those dark orbs. Savoring this moment, a slow smile spreads across his face. “I love you, Lavinia. Forever and a day.”

“Forever and a day,” she murmurs.

A/N: This is the first time I have written Geralt. I hope I did him justice. He’s my comfort character, after all. This particular Geralt is a mix of the videogame version, the book version, and the Netflix version of him. This version of him smiles and can be soft while still able to use a sword one-handed to take down a foe. *swoon*

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[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter III

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

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

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

TW: (slight?) angst

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn't escape his senses.

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

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

***

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

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

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

She looked amused.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, Geralt. Just one more time."

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't know what to do.

Until he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt could no longer hear the sound of her heartbeat.

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

Rory had left. And it was all his fault.

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

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

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

He would fix this. He had to.

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[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 126

In place of August Fourteenth, Promptapalooza 7/ Geralt knows he has a soulmate when he first hears a small voice ask him what his name is. He doesn't respond. He's not humoring destiny (that bitch) or fate (that cunt). He's not going to respond.

It's been a few years and occasionally the voice still speaks to him.

"Are you real?" "Do you hate maths too?" "I fell earlier and really hurt my knee. Today's been bad. what about your day?" "I had a nightmare last night, but thinking of you helped." "When we're grown ups one day and we get married, we'll have flowers at the wedding, right?" "Do you like music?"

And Geralt never answers. He won't link this innocent child to his wretched, wretched life. He won't link them to a murderer.

Another few years go by, and unfortunately the voice won't shut up.

"Still not talkin', huh? That's fine! I can fill the silence easy enough! Let me tell you alllll about my day!"

He's temped to use their connection to tell his soulmate to stop talking, but he doesn't want to expose himself.

…

And he doesn't want to hurt them.

But them telling him a long rambling story about their walk in the woods that day and how a squirrel scared them right in the middle of Geralt fighting a leshy wasn't exactly helpful.

A few more years pass, and the voice still speaks to him. It's gotten deeper, so Geralt suspects it's a boy. Almost a man, but not quite.

"Father yelled at me again. If you care. I hope whoever you are, you have a better home." "Are you dead? They didn't give me a dead soulmate, right?" "Why won't you talk to me?" "i don't think anybody likes me. Not even you. You never speak to me. I wish you did." "I'm thinking of leaving. If there was any time to speak up and tell me who you are or where you reside, it'd be now." "Please talk to me." "I dreamt of you again last night. I keep doing it, recently. Sometimes you're a woman. Sometimes you're a man. Sometimes I can't really tell. Sometimes you're sweet and shy, sometimes you're flirty and crass. Sometimes you have brown eyes. Sometimes they're green. Sometimes they're blue. I wish I knew."

They're yellow. Hideous and grotesque. Inhuman. The boy shouldn't wish to know them.

"I left. I finally did it. I left just last night. I swear, wherever you are, I'll find you."

Another few years pass, and the voice is still there, but it's much rarer to hear. Geralt feels relief knowing he's finally giving up on Geralt and will find himself a better life.

"I haven't been doing a good job of finding you. But you haven't really given me any hints. Do you not want me to find you? Do you really want me to stay away?"

And Geralt finally responds to the man, for the first time ever.

"Yes."

"IT'S YOU! You responded! You're real! You're actually real! I do have a soulmate! I knew it! I knew I wasn't unlovable! Where are you? I'll-"

And Geralt hears the exact moment his rambling thoughts come to an abrupt crashing halt, as he processes what Geralt agreed to.

"Oh."

And that's the last message he gets from his soulmate's voice. It's what Geralt wanted all along. But after a solid year of hearing nothing from him, Geralt will admit he misses him. He misses the chatter.

It's the beginning of the very next year that he meets the bard Jaskier, who stubbornly fights tooth and nail to incorporate himself into Geralt's life.

He fills the silence left by Geralt's soulmate. It's nice to have prattle back. He doesn't tell Jaskier that, of course. Jaskier is young and foolhardy and jumps from bed to bed, but soon enough, he'll want to settle down with his own soulmate and he'll leave Geralt. Geralt isn't looking forward to the silence returning, but he likes Jaskier. He'd go through any silence for him.

It's Jaskier's fifth year traveling with Geralt. They sit across from each other around a campfire as Geralt roasts some pheasants and and Jaskier stares despondently at the notebook he's not writing in.

And then Geralt hears him. His soulmate's voice in his thoughts again.

"I've fallen in love."

And Geralt is happy for his soulmate. Because - Geralt glances at Jaskier for a moment and smiles to himself - He has too.

"I don't know if you hate me. Or if you're dead. Or if you've found someone else, but whatever it is, I hope you can be happy for me. I love him. I really, truly do. I love Geralt with everything in me."

And Geralt jolts and whips his head to look over at the bard.

"Jaskier?" He sends through the connection, and watches as his bard's eyes grow wide with shock.

"…You love me?"

[pickleforstony]

Baby, it's cold outside.

[hope-to-hell]

Fuck yeah, thank you for the tag❤️ I love this you’ve managed to build a connection between them that feels genuine, even in such a short time. Geralt’s so cranky, but still so gentle; can’t blame Fithra for wanting a piece of that. Delicious!

travel the breadth of extremities

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

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

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

Word Count: 6k

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

Keep reading

[lainiespicewrites]

IT IS MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR!

AND I HAVE HAD THE COOLEST IDEA!! Dearest friends, writers, and Henry Cavill fans alike, I've got a Christmas writing prompt list for our one and only!

This strike of genius came while singing to "All I Want for Christmas is You" in the shower.

Without further Ado. I present.

A Very Cavill Christmas!

I've got a list of Henry and characters and associated Christmas songs! and starting today! (Decemeber 1st) to the end of December. I'm gonna post a Fic for each character! and I'd love for you guys to participate too! I'm gonna tag a couple writers I know that I think might like to participate. I thought this would be a fun way to start the holidays and get people into the spirit!

HERE IS MY OFFICIAL LIST

HENRY - JINGLE BELL ROCK

SYVERSON - ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

WALTER - WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS

AUGUST - HAPPY HOLIDAYS

CLARK - EVERYBODY'S WAITING FOR THE MAN WITH THE BAG

SHERLOCK - THE CHRISTMAS SONG

GERLAT - HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISMAS

MIKE - BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

GUS - RUN RUDOLPH RUN

NAPOLEON - LET IT SNOW

This is my list! if you don't like or don't agree with some of the songs feel free to change them! But again I'd love for people to share this and do this with me. If you see this and you aren't a Henry Fan you can participate too! Switch it out for a Character you do like and have some fun!

If you do decide to this please tag me and Hashtag your post with #averycavillchristmas so we can find all the posts!!

@shellyshellshell @gummydummy19 @littlefreya @hey-its-roseaurum @angryschnauzer @eloquentlytired @cowboybeepboop @deandoesthingstome

If I've missed any other writers you think may be interested please tag them and reblog so we can get this out there!

[deexchanel]

Golden.

Word Count: 2,650

Pairing: Geralt of Rivera x BlackFem!OC

Warning: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Fighting, Arguing

Summary: Geralt is known to everyone that he is not the relationship type. After having an recurring dream, one woman is stuck on his mind and he can’t let this one get away.

A/N: Another Geralt oneshot uh ohhh. I know that this timeline is in 1210 but I'm not going to try hard to have it that way, meaning it will be some modern things in here. It is not edited, but since I'm on break, it won't take me long to do. Aside from that, Thank you for reading!

The fire brew nicely keeping both him and her very warm for the night. Geralt laid next to the girl that made him forget about everything else he dealt with. He felt content with having her close to him and nothing mattered at the moment.

He rolled over to smell her warm vanilla scent but there was no head. Geralt snatches the cover off in shock to see her body except with no arms or legs. He scoots back kicking the cover,”AH!”

A deep howl sounds off behind him and he quickly draws his sword, looking in every direction. His heart pounded in his chest as an animal come rushing towards him. Geralt stood up ready for battle and the Barghest jumped to him.

That’s when Geralt awoken from his slumber. He swung his feet to the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He then began grabbing nearby items to get dressed for leaving. When finished, he nudged Jaskier with his foot. “Jaskier, meet me at Kaer Morhen. I will be there but I have to go somewhere first.”

Jaskier, who was sleeping on the floor, heard him perfectly but still waved him off because it was still early in the morning. Geralt walked out the door, making way to his horse, Roach.

“Good Morning.” He spoke lowly while rubbing his favorite spot. Geralt climbed on, beginning his trip to Town of Odin. This dream occurred to him the previous night as well and he didn’t want it to be a third time.

——

“I need to make sure I grab some fresh bed linens while heading to work.” Nyla mumbled to herself as she folded her now clean clothes. After placing them on top of her vanity, she pulled apart a few of her curls to give her hair a fuller look.

Spending a couple of minutes in the mirror to make sure her face is clean and smooth. Nyla got up from the vanity making way to the bed where her outfit laid. It was a white dress with a green flower print all over, pairing that with some white sandals. Once smearing her melted cocoa butter against her lips, she made way to the kitchen.

Nyla picked up things around the house, wanting to organize her little home. It was a 1 bedroom, 1 bath cottage style home, it's perfect to her. The record player spun tunes that she loved which gave motivation to clean up her home. She is a single 23 year old with no intentions of having a man any time soon so the small size is great.

“Good Morning, Ms.June!” The chocolate woman waved over to her neighbor with pure happiness.

Ms.June waved back, “Morning Nyla! I made croissants, would you like some?”

She gave her a smile, “Yes ma’am, I would love one.” Nyla looked both ways before crossing over the rocky road. She would never turn down any baked goods from Ms. June. She was the only woman that made her feel welcomed in the group.

The Town of Odin was a big well known town, from the fabulous boutiques to the nice food places. The beautiful garden at the entrance of the town , ropes tourist in.

Nyla lived on out skirt of the town, living in the house her grandmother once lived in. Our beautiful Nyla is a people person but loves being alone when it comes to her living space.

Getting that trait from the fact that she grew up with two older brothers and older sister. When having siblings there is no definition of personal space. Her parents moved to New Asgard under rightful leadership of Queen Frigga. She visits quite often but this month she was going to miss their plans.

After eating the warm flaky croissant, she straightened her front patio from any fallen debris. She also had a huge flower garden that she tended too frequently.

Tending does have her outside all day which she then spends her evening going to Ms. June house. One person is writing while the other yells out fictional story ideas to write down. Tonight she did have a shift to pick up so she wouldn't be able to spend majority of time there like she always does.

Today shall give her peace.

Or so she hopes.

Eyes set upon Geralt as he stalked through the city of Odin. The city didn't have a hate relationship with Witcher's unlike surrounding places but his guard was still up. He held on his needed things and the leash that connected to his horse, Roach.

By time he arrived in the city, it was past night fall. Geralt was pretty tired but determined to save his love. He knew the path to Nyla’s house, so he kept his distance from everyone until...

"GET THE FUCK OUT MY PUB!" A feminine voice was heard in the streets from this pub that was on his left. That voice sounded very familiar. Too familiar.

He made his way over to the pub curious on what the chaos was about. Geralt stood tall at the door, scanning the crowd looking for a certain pair of brown eyes. A guy stood in front of him with his back facing the door, arguing with someone. That someone landed a clean punch across his face making him forcefully bumped into Geralt.

He pushed him back making the guy now face him. "The fuck is your problem!?"

Geralt expression harden," You bumped into me." his eyes shifted to the person behind him. It was Nyla. His Nyla. Their eyes made contact, setting off bombs of love within him.

It's like nothing else mattered but her.

Reality kicked in when the drunk guy continued his yelling, getting closer to Geralt. "You stood there fuck tard! This low down pub took my money."

Nyla crossed her arms, not even phased by the insults. She just wanted him out of her pub quickly. "Oh my gosh, you're complaining but still here! I been said get the fuck out."

"I can leave whenever I want bitch." The drunk guy spat into her face, sizing her up. This stupid act got his ass punched the first time. Nyla balled her hand into a fist, lifting her arm but Geralt instantly grabbed his shoulder forcing him to turn around.

He landed a smooth punch to the side of his face. The strength made the guy blacked out and Geralt dragged his limp body out the door, tossing him in the road.

Making it back in, his focus was 100% on Nyla. In that swiftness, she was back serving food and drinks to customers. He looked around the room then settled on the table in the corner.

His eyes instantly locked back onto Nyla, noticing every little detail. Seeing the gold jewelry she wore brought out her brown eye color. Nyla's dark brown curly hair bounced as she walked around. Her outfit didn't reveal much but a man has an great imagination. Noticing her smooth brown skin as it glisten in the light. Nyla's nice plumped lips had him wanting to kiss her every second if he could.

"You're staring." Nyla's firm voice broke him out of his trance. Gosh, she looks more amazing up close. Geralt gave her small smile, "I know."

"What do you want Witcher? I haven't seen or heard from you in years." She sat the piece of paper down, placing a hand on her curvy hip. Taking this time to notice some of his features, he definitely looked different then he did four years ago.

"I came to save you..." He couldn't even finish due to protest.

"Save me? I can take care of myself perfectly fine." She raised an eyebrow. Questioning herself, what does she need to be saved from? him obviously. He left the first time, that mean he's bound to do it again.

"I can see that very clearly but whatever's after you, I just can't let you be here alone. You need to come with me Nyla." Geralt points to her, his face held the determination. Letting her know that he is serious.

"So you only came because something is after me. I appreciate that you care but Geralt like I mentioned, I haven't seen you in years. I do not feel comfortable skipping town with you."

"Nyla listen!"

"I'm listening Geralt! You don't have anything else to say other than you came to save me. If it wasn't something after me, I would've never heard from you again. Am I lying?"

Geralt trailed off in silence knowing what she was saying is very true. After a couple of seconds he spoke." What you speak of is not true. I'm wanted by many, I didn't want to put you in harm's way."

"Geralt that is bullshit!" Nyla claim as shook her head in disbelief. Is she really hearing these words come out his mouth

"I'm sure you'd do a much better job of killing it then." He stood up from table, feeling regret and frustration. His tallness made Nyla melt but she had to keep her composure.

"You thought I was going to welcome you back with open arms? I'm angry with you Geralt! You're so self-absorbed. You only care about yourself!" Nyla voice started to raise not caring if it caught the crowd attention.

Geralt lets out angry groan. His icy white hair flowed as he walked pass her leaving. Nyla didn't want him to leave, honestly she was happy to see him but her anger got the best. She lets out an angry groan herself, " Fine!"

She balled up the paper that she used to take orders and tossed it to the back of his head. It hit his back, obviously not feeling it he continued walking out the door.

"Nyla can you refill-" Her manager starts as Nyla get closer to the bar. The manager doesn't likes her for whatever weird reason and uses every moment to patronize her.

"Shut the fuck up talking to me." Nyla cuts her eyes, grabbing the full beer glass so she can pass them out.

-----

It's hitting midnight which is what time the pub closes. As usual Nyla is the last to stay doing her normal. Consisting of wiping tables down, cleaning the windows and sweeping. When finished, she grabbed her things and locked the doors.

The night sky was clear as she saw the full moon above while walking out the town of Odin. Nyla loved the light from moon as it brighten the pathway home. Weirdly the town was quieter then usual, normally it would plenty townmens standing around the bonfire.

Maybe it was something in the air. It's only a ten minute walk from town and the surrounding forest area isn't too thick so Nyla isn't scared to walk by herself at time. It's just something about tonight that gave her this weird eerie feeling.

Hearing a dog whine astray her from being lost in thought. Nyla stopped so she could hear clearly, "Hello?"

The whining started again and she turned to her right, taking one foot off the path to get to the injured dog but the whine turn into a slow growl.

Nyla instantly stopped in her tracks beginning to speak out again, "Hel-"

She catch sight of a pair of orange eyes staring back, oh shit.

For a second out of fear, she stood there. A monstrous Barghest, orange eyes glowing with predatory intent, lunged. Its gnarled claws reached for her, the air crackling with its otherworldly power. She lets out a blood-curdling shriek beginning to run down the path.

Not to far from Nyla's home, stood Geralt as he was staking out behind her house. That scream grasps his attention, shaking him to the core. Without thought, he takes off towards the sound.

Nyla ran til she couldn't, as adrenaline rushes through her body. Nothing could make her look into the eyes of death. In the matter of what felt like hours, Geralt eyes of cat-like yellow, materialized from the shadows running towards. His silver sword gleamed in the moon light, he yelled for her "Nyla!"

That grabbed her attention, losing focusing on running, she tripped over a stone. Geralts leaps over her, sword drawn and at the ready.

"Your hunger ends here." Geralt growled, his voice a low rumble.

The Barghest roared, its attention diverted from Nyla. With a swift, graceful motion, Geralt sidestepped the beast's clawed attack, his sword dancing in a deadly ballet. Each strike was precise, each parry flawless.

Nyla, though terrified, found herself awed by the Witcher's skill. She'd heard tales of his prowess, but witnessing it firsthand was a different experience entirely. The battle raged, a symphony of steel on bone, of snarls and grunts. The forest echoed with the clash of the two adversaries, their every move a deadly dance.

--------

Nyla's small arm wrapped around Geralt's buff frame as she helped him into the house. Both covered in blood, she flung them to the couch. Tired is the understatement.

Whatever position they landed in, Gerald sat there with his eyes closed holding on to his bleeding torso. Nyla sat there as well til she relized that the couch was covered in blood. Oh well, she'll get him to throw it out in a hour or so, just not right now.

"Geralt."

"Hmm."

"We have to get you stitched up love."

"No it's fine, I'll heal."

"Geralt..."

"Nyla I'm fine, I promise." He opened his eyes, the yellow in his eyes didn't glow like when he's upset. Nyla expression softened as she grabbed his free hand. He squeezed her hand a little but, "Let's just get cleaned up."

Nyla doesn't respond but lets out a breathe she didn't know she held. She made way to the bathroom, prepping the hot bath water. Once finished, she got into the water then called for him. "The water is ready!" In two minutes, Geralt walks in the bathroom, getting in the tub. Nyla looks away in this moment, not it the mood for anything sexual.

Right now she just wants to cuddle this man. When he settled in the water she moved closer to him, placing a head on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have been so stubborn earlier. I'm sorry Geralt, thank you for saving me."

"No need to apologize Nyla." He wrapped his arm around her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I will aways come to your rescue." In this moment, the world was silent and all that matter was the steaming water against their skin.

"And I will always appreciate you for that." She spoke gently, her hand rubbed against his scars, amazed at his healing ability. Nyla leaned up from his loving brace, facing him. " I've really missed you Geralt."

" I've missed you too Nyla."

His deep voice made her heart flutter and Nyla averted her gaze, nervously . The Geralt of Rivia claim that he misses her. He gently placed a finger under her chin to make Nyla look to him.

Her heart pounded as their eyes locked, his golden eyes burning into her soul. She felt breathless. Not wasting a second, Geralt placed his lips onto hers.

Their bodies pulsed with the raw energy of their passion, every touch, a testament to their love. Nyla places her hand against his face, deepening the kiss. Geralt pulled her closer wishing he could mold their skin together so they never parted. He wanted to devour her, kissing her ever so passionately, wanting her to feel his love.

She meant everything to him.

As their lips parted, their foreheads rested against each other, their eyes filled with unspoken promises.

They were bound by a love that transcended words, a love that consumed them entirely.

-----------------

I know Geralt didn't have many lines, but remember he might not be the most expressive lover. It's his actions and unwavering dedication that speaks words.

Wow, I love the motivation I had for this cause it's crazy how I started on this in 2022 lol. I hope every one enjoy, I wish you the best holidays!

Stay slutty my friends!

[aikaterini-drag]

August Walker

Oneshots (explicit 💦):

Inside Your Heart • After a difficult mission, Walker returns to you like a man possessed.

Shower Ride • Your boyfriend August gives you a shower ride.

**NO PLAGIARISM ALLOWED!**

**DO NOT STEAL, REPLICATE, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.**

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

One of two kinds - Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: "Part 1", Nina? Part 1? And it's 8.7k words long? Yes, yes, yes, part 1. Guess centaur!Sy will have to wait for a bit, right? I don't even know how I came up with the idea for werewolf!Geralt (affectionately known by me and a few others as "Weralt") but OH BOY am I glad I did... And then Geralt kept getting bigger and the Druid kept getting smaller, and now we're left with this.

I don't think this qualifies as monsterfucking just yet, but rest assured I promised someone knotting and that will happen...

Characters: werewolf!Geralt x halfling!druid!OFC (unnamed)

Summary: When you find a wounded, new werewolf in the forest, you can't just leave him lying there. Perhaps the enormous man will turn out to be exactly what you needed...

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, NSFW, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex (unprotected. Be smarter!), dirty talk, SIZE KINK, annoying banter (❤️), lots of teasing, mentions of sexual assault, murder, blood, violence (that took a turn), and just so that no one is confused and comes after me for this later... SIZE KINK!!! And one suggestion of a very inappropriate use of wildshaping... I think that's all but if I missed any, let me know.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @ellethespaceunicorn @mayloma @keanureevesisbae @summersong69 @ylva-syverson @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @peyton-warren @ramadiiiisme @mysweetlittledesire

The groans and whines cut through the forest, clearly half-animal half-man to your ears. It awakened your curiosity; it was likely a shifter, or so the wolf-like howls would indicate. Wolf-hybrids were so rare that you almost discarded the possibility immediately, but shape shifters were common enough in all forms.

Swiftly you flew through the thick of the forest, towards the source of the cries. He wasn’t difficult to spot; a bright white fleck on the forest ground – and one of considerable size.

Behind a tree, you shifted back, carefully rearranging your skirts – for some reason – before stepping into the small clearing where the creature cried. He was possibly the largest wolf you had ever seen! An adult male, from the looks of it, but a new one. One who had only found his wolf recently. Older wolves rarely went through the trouble of shifting to their full form unless it was a full moon or mating season...

Careful not to startle him, you crept towards him until his big, golden eyes locked on yours, in them an expression of pain so overpowering that you nearly felt his agony yourself. The cries got louder until one echoed in your head: “Help!” He spoke the Common language, to your surprise. He didn’t feel human, even after you disregarded the obvious animal energies.

“Shh,” you said when he yelped, clearly in tremendous pain. He allowed you to touch his head, leaning into your touch and nuzzling your hand. From here, you could see a rather gruesome cut on his stomach and a bite mark on his thigh from something not much bigger than him – but maybe a lot angrier. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” you whispered to him while trying to think of a way to move the behemoth out of the cold. Even your wolf form wouldn’t be large enough to move him.

With the absence of other sensible options taken into consideration, you arrived at the conclusion that magic was the only viable solution. The creature whined softly as your spell lifted him off the floor, and you dragged his levitating body carefully through the woods, until you found the cave you were looking for. The rough floor was cold, but it would have to do.

“You need to shift back,” you whispered as you sat by his enormous head. Gods, whoever this was had to be an exceptionally large man – especially compared to your small frame... “I know it hurts, and I know it’s terrifying, but I can’t heal something as big as you,” you pleaded. You ran your hands through the soft white fur on his neck in an attempt to calm the wolf down. It was obvious to you that he was fighting his shift, and you knew that meant it would hurt him all the more. He simply couldn’t hold on to his wolf form forever.

Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing steadied under your touch. “Good, good...” you muttered, raking your fingers through his fur. “Stop fighting it, it won’t hurt if you let it happen.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it was something slightly other than the truth: phasing wasn’t painful, per se, but uncomfortable enough to be experienced that way in the beginning. The feeling was certainly more or less an acquired taste.

“I can’t...” The grunt that sounded in your mind was accompanied by a low growl from the creature.

“Yes, you can, I know you can,” you said as you smoothed a hand over his cheek. Watching a werewolf – or were-anything – phase was a sight somewhere between gruelling and fascinating, but this man somehow made it look powerful and captivating in a way.

His human – or rather, ‘regular’ form, as you were still convinced this man was at least not fully human – was as impressive as his wolf; Approaching – perhaps even exceeding – two metres in height, with broad shoulders and no shortage of muscle. As your curious eyes raked over his form, you couldn’t help but notice other parts of him that were quite sizeable... Immediately, you discarded the thought: All it took was one look at his abdomen and thigh, both of which had sustained quite a bit of damage.

“Don’t move,” you told the man as you placed your hands over the wound on his stomach before you started on your first healing incantation. “I won’t be able to heal you completely, but I should be able to get both of us through the night,” you muttered as you watched the wound carefully, not taking your hands off the man until the bleeding had stopped. At least that put him out of immediate danger...

The wound on his leg, you had already noticed, would require a more finessed approach; it ran rather high on the inside of his thigh – a place that was impossible for you to reach without putting your hands in places that you had better not touch, even as a healer, without it being strictly necessary. Luckily, now that he was no longer continuously fighting his transformation, and with the other wound in a less alarming state, the man seemed to be in considerably less pain.

“Could you, eh... I need to... Please,” you stammered, your cheeks glowing hot as you made vague gestures at his crotch. “Can you move your, eh... Parts... out of the way, please?”

He looked at you and cocked an eyebrow, while a devious smirk spread on his face. “Parts?” he asked, a hint of that same smugness unbecomingly evident in his voice.

You cleared your throat and tried – and failed – to keep your voice steady as you spoke again: “Yes. To put it plainly... Ehm... Move your dick.” The man snorted, lowering his hand tragically slowly and cupping his... package, so you had access to his thigh. Without thinking, you straddled his leg as you put your hands over the wound, quietly marvelling at the sight of his vast, tree-trunk thighs, fighting the urge to moan as the muscles twitched beneath your fingers. “What did this to you?” you asked softly while still concentrating on your spell.

“Don’t know, didn’t see it,” the man grunted. So, he wasn’t one of many words... He let out a sigh of relief as you finished your work and took your hands off his leg. There was no doubt that it was still sore, as you weren’t able to continue your treatment right now – not if you wanted to make it through the cold night with the slightest bit of comfort, at least.

“How does that feel?” you asked the stranger, and he replied with another grunt.

“Much better,” he groaned. Then, he moved his leg in such a way that made you lose your balance, and you tumbled forward, until you were on top of him. Actually, ‘were launched on top of him’ was a far better description. He barely grunted as you landed on him, but when your eyes met, he was looking down at you in utter befuddlement. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were...” He awkwardly pinched his fingers together in a gesture that could have meant absolutely nothing other than ‘small’.

“I’ll have you know I’m exceptionally tall for a halfling, you brute!” you snapped, frowning up at him. Despite your feisty attitude, you didn’t dare move, as you were very aware of the rather unfortunate position on his body you were in. Luckily, he seemed far less plagued by reservations regarding the situation, and before you know it, his large hands grabbed your waist, and he pulled you up towards him. His sly grin never left his face as he set you down on his stomach, just above the wound you had just been working on, which now presented itself as a new scar, the fresh skin pink and shiny and – above all – delicate, making you extra careful not to make any unexpected moves.

“What’s your name?” you asked, feeling it was only appropriate at this point to find out that information about him.

“Geralt,” he said with a low chuckle. You repeated it – it was a rather unusual name – and introduced yourself, still seated on top of his chest. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “Do you have any idea what happened to you?”

“I... Well, you saw the aftermath. I don’t know what attacked me, and... You seem to know a lot more about what I am than I do,” he said slowly. Something in his voice suggested he was lost, confused and perhaps even a bit scared.

“Get some rest,” you said, conjuring up a soft bed of moss beneath the man, “I’ll try to gather some food.”

It was not an easy task, as it was rather dark out and also quite cold, but you managed to forage a batch of mushrooms and berries that, together with the provisions you carried, should make a nice meal for the both of you. Upon your return to the cave, you saw Geralt, slowly scurrying through the cave – still in the nude, as he of course did not have any clothing at this time. He had almost finished building a small circle of stones. Next to it, there was a pile of branches and twigs, and a supply of larger blocks of wood. Since there was no axe present, those blocks had to be a testament to his incredible strength.

“It’s freezing,” he said plainly when he noticed you standing there. Yes, the temperature. You had already noticed it yourself, but now that you were faced with this man, sanding upright, completely naked, you rapidly felt the temperature of your body rise as you involuntarily let your eyes glide over his imposing form.

“It is...” you replied, never taking your eyes off of his generous endowment. It truly was freezing. A chuckle escaped him – of course he had noticed your completely inappropriate staring – as he sat back down on the layer of moss you had conjured for him. “I can light it,” you said quickly, before Geralt could move towards the stone circle. You sank to your knees next to it, and quickly built a fire. Then, you focused on cooking the two of you a meal.

“It’s not a lot,” Geralt complained as you handed him his portion of the food you had prepared.

“I’m so very sorry! Naturally, I foresaw these circumstances, yet neglected to pack enough food to accommodate a giant like yourself,” you snapped at him. What did he expect you to do? “What are you, anyway?”

“My father is a half-orc, and my human mother clearly isn’t quite right in the head,” he scoffed. You struggled to suppress a chuckle. As far as you were concerned, his mother had had exactly the right idea... “Though I suspect you would disagree with that.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, not even feigning indignation at the implication in his remark – it was perfectly genuine. How dare he make that assumption? He was right, of course, but how dare he?

For whatever reason, he decided not to press the matter, finishing his meal without making another sound.

“Your mother was also a werewolf,” you said after swallowing the last bite of your own supper. “Your father likely wasn’t, which would explain why it took so long for your first shift to occur. I take it you’ve been away from home for a while, too?” As you had already expected, Geralt nodded in reply to your question. That just about explained the entirety of his current predicament. When you looked into his eyes, the hint of fear was back again, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the man.

“Alright, I can tell you haven’t the slightest clue as to what’s happening to you, so I will do my best to explain it as clearly as possible,” you said – not that your knowledge on shape shifters was so vast, but it had already become painfully obvious that you knew more than this poor sod. “If you want, I will stay with you until your transformation is complete."

You expected him to argue with you, to tell you to waste your time on something else, or that he would be alright without you. Instead, Geralt accepted your offer without so much as a single complaint – he truly must have been terrified. It wasn’t unimaginable; things were happening to him that were not only new to him, but beyond anything he had ever imagined he could possibly be.

“What do I have to look forward to?” he groaned as he stretched out on the patch of moss again, not bothering to cover his body with... Well, there was nothing he could possibly cover himself with... Your cloak surely wouldn’t suffice – it would barely be enough to cover one of his enormous legs. Besides, you’d get cold if you handed it to him. To fashion a blanket out of moss would be possible, but it would leave you without a bed, as you were really starting to get tired, and using more magic was out of the question. To leave him bare through the night, however, especially in his current condition, would certainly prove disastrous for him. With the fire still going, his attire – or lack thereof – wasn’t an immediate concern. His question, on the other hand, was.

“You have made it through the worst part; the full shift is unanimously more difficult and more painful than the half shift,” you explained. “It should follow within a few days. In the meantime, prepare to feel... moody – although I suspect it wouldn’t be the first time people say that about you – and restless, generally uncomfortable... There won’t be a lot I can do but keep you company and help you through the shift, but at least you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, turning onto his side on the makeshift bed. This time, when you looked closely, he shivered. “You don’t happen to have anything larger than that handkerchief you call a cloak, do you?”

“I do not, but if you’re nice and stop insulting my size, I can make you something. It would leave us with just one bed, though,” you said, your tone about as snippy as you felt was to be expected after a remark like that.

“I don’t see a problem, there’s plenty of space for both of us on here,” he replied, his eyes holding something just shy of an apology.

“Alright then,” you said, walking over to him and fashioning a cover out of moss for him. It was large enough to cover both of you, but you opted for your cloak as you lay down on the soft, green, makeshift mattress next to him. He’d been right; there was plenty of space – largely because you, of course, hardly took up any.

“Will it always feel like this?” he said suddenly, just as you informed him that you were going to sleep. “The tearing inside, the... pressure?”

“Not from what I’ve heard,” you said softly, turning around to face him and placing a hand on his cheek, his face almost comically large underneath your tiny hand. “You learn to live with the wolf. Right now, you’d do well to remember that you’re not fighting him; there’s simply no point to it, he’s never going away. He just wants to...”

“Play?” Geralt scoffed.

“You’re being sarcastic, but you’re hitting the nail on the head, actually,” you said in earnest. He looked at you, his golden eyes glowing enticingly in the light of the fire. “He wants to get to know you.” Your gentle touch, combined with your words, calmed him down, and he inhaled slowly and deeply. “Get some rest.” On a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, and before long you heard low and loud snores – echoing through the cave...

“Good morning,” he grumbled. Morning? Was it morning? As far as you were concerned, morning came after a good night’s sleep, and you didn’t get that, so morning? Your tiny little behind!

“To you, maybe,” you snapped, “I didn’t sleep a wink. Caves have quite the echo, you know. And you...” He cut you off, surprising you by putting an arm around you and pulling you against him, his lips close to your ear.

“I’m not asleep anymore,” he growled, “why don’t you get some sleep now.” With one swift move, he wrapped his blanket around you too. Why didn’t you get some sleep? Beg your pardon? As if there was even so much as a remote possibility of getting any sleep. It was morning. And what that meant for this man – who, beneath that blanket that you were now under as well, was still very much naked – was that it was really morning.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep with that giant...” He cut you off again, this time with a bout of roaring laughter that echoed through the cave loudly enough to give anyone a serious headache. “Alright, that’s quite enough, Geralt.” You got up and paced to the other side of the cave, where you inspected your supplies. There wasn’t a morsel of food left after last night, and your water supply was dwindling swiftly – especially now that you had to share it. “There’s a town, not too far from here. I will stock up on some supplies and find you some clothes. Please tell me you know how to hunt?”

He scoffed – a sound that was positively dripping with disgruntlement at your implication. “Leave me the bow,” he grunted, “not that those... darts will kill anything, but I’ll give it my best.” He reluctantly took the crossbow from you and inspected it. “Do you have a knife?” You could tell he tried not to laugh when you handed him one of your daggers, and he closed his mouth again, swallowing the comment he had been tempted to make. “This will do just fine.” The smile that adorned his brutish features wasn’t quite genuine, but it was close.

As you gathered your things and made your way to the entrance of the cave, he stopped you: “What do you mean ‘a town not too far from here’? You’ll be walking for hours!”

“I was never going to walk, dearest,” you taunted before shifting, leaving Geralt baffled at the sight of a rather unusually large raven before him. By means of a goodbye, you cawed a few times before taking flight.

You returned to the welcome sight of a flickering light coming from the cave, and the smell of roasting meat. It was still light out, leaving you with plenty of time for foraging, and mending the heap of scraps you carried in your pack now would make a fine activity for the evening. The sight you were met with when you entered the cave, however, left a thing or two to be desired.

“Would it be too much to ask that for the few days we call this cave our home, we do not turn it into a pigsty?” you snapped as you stepped around a pile of entrails. “Did it occur to you to take care of these beasts outside?”

“I was going to clean that up,” Geralt growled at you, “you returned sooner than I expected.”

“Does the phrase ‘as the crow flies’ mean anything to you, Geralt?” you retorted.

“You turned into a raven, not a crow,” he replied, his uncalled for stoicism only fuelling your anger.

“I hardly think you are in a position to be a pedantic arse about this!” you exclaimed, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to prevent yourself from saying something you didn’t mean – in the interest of keeping the peace for a few days, of course. After a deep breath, you felt confident you could speak without insulting him: “Thank you very much for providing us with food. Here are some clothes.” You handed him the things you had bought him, which he gratefully accepted.

“I’m almost done cleaning the hides,” he said with a kind smile, “In case you wanted a bed of your own tonight.” By the end of his sentence, his voice dropped, as if the thought of you sleeping anywhere other than next to him brought him sadness. Without another word, he put on the garments you had given him. Luckily, you had gauged his size quite accurately, and they fit him well. “No undergarments?”

You snorted. “I think I happened upon the place where you phased, are these yours?” You tossed the scraps you had gathered at his feet. After a brief inspection, Geralt nodded. “Well, then it seems like you never felt the need to wear undergarments to begin with, Geralt.” He smiled at you – and in this moment you’d have given everything to just be able to say he smiled up at you, but seated on the floor like he was, his face was just about level with yours. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment to his expression, which irked you – to say the very least.

You ventured out into the forest, looking for something to add to your meal – though you doubted Geralt would have any problem whatsoever with a dinner that consisted solely of meat. During your search, you noticed for the first time how lovely this particular part of the forest truly was. You were lucky enough to find mushrooms, root vegetables and a whole host of berries nearby. From where you stood, you could hear a waterfall, and as you walked towards the sound, you clutched your waterskin and prayed that the water was clean enough to drink. It was! In fact, it was nothing short of absolutely perfect, and the banks of the small creek provided you with even more edible plants and herbs to take with you.

“Darling, I’m home,” you teased as you stepped back into the cave. The pile of guts, you noticed, had been removed – mostly. This night, the two of you prepared your dinner together, while jokes of the domesticity of your current situation became more and more frequent. Outside, a particularly harsh wind had picked up, blowing icy air into the cave.

“Perhaps instead of a second bed, we had better use the hides to shield us from that wind,” you suggested carefully.

“Perhaps instead of making a bed right in front of the entrance of the cave, you could have gone around that corner,” he grumbled, pointing at a part of the cave that would absolutely have been better suited for sleeping, “where we wouldn’t have to worry about freezing.”

“And perhaps,” you snapped, failing to keep your anger out of your voice, “I was utterly exhausted from dragging your gargantuan arse through this forest to keep you from dying!”

“Oh, believe me when I say I appreciate it,” he threw back at you, “but wouldn’t it be such a waste of your precious efforts if we still died...”

“As if that wind would actually kill you!” You rolled your eyes at him while he growled at you, and before you knew it, you found yourself in one of the tensest moments of your life so far.

“It wouldn’t kill you either, but it would be pretty fucking uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?” he sighed impatiently.

The worst part of the argument was that the solution was so mind-numbingly simple that neither of you even dared to pitch the idea of just moving the bed to the other side. Instead, you just kept staring at each other, getting angrier with every passing minute, until – much to your dissatisfaction, you finally couldn’t take it anymore: “Let’s just sleep over there, then!” With a snap of your fingers, the moss disappeared, and with another, it reappeared on the other side. “And lay down and strip, so I can take another look at your injuries.”

“One bed, huh?” Geralt remarked, flashing you that cocky grin you had become far too well acquainted with in the short time you had known the man.

“Shut up,” you replied, “you’re warm. It was quite nice.” Heat rose to your cheeks as you spoke the words, and you were convinced you weren’t wholly able to keep the expression on your face free of the shame you felt.

“I thought so too,” Geralt admitted as he lay down on the bed, nude once more, grinning down at you, seemingly not feeling the same embarrassment that you did regarding the situation.

The wound on his abdomen was as little of a problem as it had been the previous night. This time, the only thing that remained of it was a faint scar that looked far older than it really was. The other injury, however, posed the same problem it had before – only this time you were more than comfortable taking a slightly different approach.

“Do you need me to move my... parts out of the way,” Geralt said mockingly while raising a suggestive eyebrow at you. You sighed deeply. This man was simply impossible!

“Yes, Geralt,” you barked at him, “please move your massive cock, before I do it.” You immediately realized your mistake, as the devious glint in his eyes slowly gained assistance from yet another impossibly smug grin that slowly spread across his face. He did exactly what that look in his eyes foretold: absolutely nothing. “I’m not giving you a happy ending with this healing spell.” You spat your words out at him so harshly that for a moment, his face showed a hint of concern that he had gone too far. “I might castrate you,” you added in a sickly sweet voice that brought the grin back to his face, “but it would be a shame...”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Geralt chuckled – a sound that was cut short by a grunt when the backs of your fingers brushed past his cock on their way to their destination on his thigh. On the way back, you let your fingertips trail the flesh of his thigh slowly, purposely lengthening the amount of time you spent in contact with his parts. The muscles in his thigh twitched as you ran your fingers over them. This time, you hadn’t made the mistake of straddling his leg, and you cursed yourself for that choice, as in that moment you wanted nothing more than for him to launch you onto his chest again.

“God, you got insanely lucky that whatever bit you even missed the goods, darling,” you muttered before withdrawing your hands, eliciting a deep sigh from Geralt.

“I’m even luckier you found me,” he whispered on a sigh. Without speaking, he held a hand out to you, and you took it. He impatiently tugged at your arm, almost hard enough to make you lose your balance again. Instead, you moved, climbing over him until you were laying to his left, nestled into his side. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “your touch calms me down.”

“Gods, I almost forgot,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief over your apparent indifference. “How are you feeling?”

“Restless, as you predicted,” he replied. “My senses are annoyingly heightened. You smell good. You feel soft.” He turned to face you, wrapping his other arm around you and pulling you against him and laying his forehead against yours, swallowing hard. “I find myself constantly fighting the urge to touch you, taste you...”

“I might be able to help that restlessness, you know?” you said carefully. As clear as it was what other urges he was fighting – judging from the growing pressure against your leg – you found it best to err on the side of caution.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” His voice was only a low growl in your ear.

“That’s disappointing,” you retorted with a challenging tone to your voice. Suddenly, his eyes opened, the look in them fierce – animalistic, even.

“Fine, is that what you want? For me to tear you apart? Don’t think I can’t smell that sweet little cunt of yours,” he snarled before aggressively pressing his lips against yours. The sudden action made you gasp, and Geralt greedily used the opportunity to invade your mouth with his tongue. When he retreated, you eagerly sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him moan as you nibbled on it – quite contently, too. Without hesitation, he reached for the collar of your blouse, tearing the fabric away unceremoniously. You allowed him to explore every bit of skin on your neck, moaning with each sloppy, open-mouthed kiss he pressed to the sensitive skin.

From there, he swiftly moved on to your chest, sucking more than only your nipples into his mouth with remarkable ease. His teeth grazed over your skin, luring a sharp gasp from you as you dug your fingernails into his shoulders.

Now that it was the sound of your own pleasure bouncing off the walls of the cavern, the sound bothered you far less than when it had been Geralt’s horrible snoring.

He moved his hand down over your body, the materials of your clothes shredding under his brutish touch. It didn’t matter; you’d mend them later, right now all you wanted was to feel Geralt’s hands on you.

You cursed softly under your breath when he ran one of his fingers through your folds. A low grunt slipped from his lips as you kissed and licked his neck and jaw, then a louder moan when you sank your teeth into his flesh as he pushed a finger into your slick core. When he added a second, he groaned – as did you.

“There’s no way,” he muttered, making you giggle. The fact that he seemed to struggle to push that second finger into your tight pussy made you giddy with excitement, but you also eagerly took the opportunity to finally flash Geralt a smug smile of your own. The fact of the matter was that you weren’t some porcelain doll.

“Come on,” you taunted, “if you can’t even manage a second finger, how are you ever going to put that big, fat cock inside of me? I can take it, I promise.” He laughed when you threw your head back as his finger finally slipped all the way into you. “That’s it, now give me some more, big guy,” you hissed into his ear, earning you a surprised look that held concern as well as a measure of admiration.

Geralt hesitantly positioned a third finger at your entrance and pushed it into you gently, stopping immediately when he saw your face contort into an expression of what he rightfully believed to be pain. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his face displaying clear disbelief as you nodded.

“Go slow,” you moaned, “I’m more than alright, love.” Slowly but surely, his finger inched its way into your tight canal. You took a moment to get used to the slight burn, allowing your body to relax around the intruding digits and accommodate instead of reject them, and then you looked into Geralt’s eyes as you began to move your hips, your dripping core coating his hand with your juices.

He mimicked the rhythm of your hips, pumping his fingers in and out of you, making you moan with every thrust. “Don’t stop,” you moaned, meeting his movements time after time, your words punctuated by increasingly ecstatic cries, “you’re going to make me cum.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, and moments later, your muscles were clamping down on his fingers, spasming erratically while you came undone.

“Gods, you’re beautiful like that,” he murmured to you, stroking your hair and chuckling lightly when his praise made you squirm in his arms. “I wonder if you’re as beautiful when that pretty little mouth of yours is completely stuffed with my cock.” His lewd words were almost enough to drive you all the way up to another peak...

With ample enthusiasm, you made your way down his body, trailing your fingers over his muscles and through the hair on his chest and stomach, until you were seated comfortably between his immense thighs, clenching your own as you let your eyes glide over his parts. He was absolutely massive – so big, in fact, that you hesitantly reached a hand out to touch him. You had confidently talked the talk, but walking the walk would perhaps prove a bit more challenging than you had initially anticipated…

As soon as your fingers came into contact with the soft skin of his cock, your doubts melted away, and were replaced by an almost feral longing to devour him. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to travel the length of his erection, mapping every pulsing vein and every ridge you encountered carefully, committing them to memory, paying attention to the area around the tip that made Geralt moan softly on his exhales. Finally, you wrapped your hand around his member, only managing to cover just over half of his girth with your small hand.

“Gods, you’re tiny,” Geralt whispered, letting out a delighted chuckle and reaching for your head, guiding you gently into a position where your chin rested near the base of his cock. “Oh, fuck me...” he said in disbelief as he stared down at you.

“That’s the idea,” you replied before sticking your tongue out and licking all the way from the base to the top of his cock. It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d been so mesmerized by; you were fairly confident his erection was longer than your head. Slowly, you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, carefully keeping an eye on his reactions, before taking him into your mouth.

It was easy to see that Geralt tried his very best to hide his amusement at your frustration when you could barely manage to wrap your lips around his tip – only his very best wasn’t quite good enough, and he failed miserably as he tried to choke back his laughter.

“Where’s that big mouth of yours now that you need it,” he asked with a positively maddening grin on his face, but worse than that smirk was the fact that just as you attempted to pull back to answer him, you felt his hand pushing at the back of your head, leaving you sputtering around his cock. He found it all quite entertaining, while you glared up at him, not at all convinced of the hilarity of the situation. After a few moments, his tone changed, along with the expression on his face. “Come on, little one, I know you can manage a bit more than this,” he said softly as he gently stroked your hair, tangling his fingers lightly in it.

You wanted to get angry with him for calling you that, but you just couldn’t – not only because it was so incredibly true, but also because he said it so sweetly, his voice so full of endearment as he gently urged you to take more of him, that you felt pride and a willingness to please him glow deep within you. With his guidance, you slowly took more of him into your mouth, saliva dripping down his shaft as you inched your way down until you simply couldn’t cope with his girth anymore – and you had still barely made it past the tip.

“A bit more,” Geralt grunted above you – and something in you became instantly wildly annoyed with the man and his ridiculous demands.

Abruptly, you pulled your mouth off of him and snapped: “I can’t dislocate my jaw, I’m not a snake!”

“You’re a druid, right?” he asked suggestively, ignoring the irritation in your voice.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” you stammered. The notion was so utterly ridiculous that it would be foolish at best to dignify it with a response.

Left without options – other than ‘stopping what you were doing altogether and going to sleep, which was just about the last thing you wanted – you continued your efforts, slipping your lips around the head of Geralt’s cock again. This time, you moved your hands over his length while teasing the tip with your tongue, and you soon revelled in the sound of the moans that escaped him.

He didn’t speak, though occasionally he muttered a soft ‘fuck’ under his breath – the low, gravelly sound of which made you clench your thighs together. They were slick with your own arousal and served as an immediate reminder of the ache between your legs. It was impossible now to stop squirming, searching for the friction that would provide you with relief – something Geralt was quick to notice.

He sat up and plucked you off the floor like you weighed nothing – and to him, you most likely truly didn’t – before laying you down on the moss. He kissed you briefly, and then went on his way, kissing down your body until he reached his destination. Strong hands firmly gripped the back of your thighs, behind your knees, pushing your legs open with demanding force.

He took in your scent, the look in his eyes changing from languid bliss to one of pure animalistic need as he inhaled. The hands left your thighs, only to reappear on your hips, gripping you tightly and pulling you closer as he buried his face in your pussy, eagerly tasting your arousal. In this particular area, his size was clearly an advantage, because his tongue covered so much area that he hit all the right places no matter how he went about it. You squirmed in his arms, begging him not to stop, to keep doing what he was doing until you inevitably came hard on his eager tongue.

“Gods, that was fantastic!” you exclaimed, immediately cursing yourself for your enthusiasm as you heard the arrogant chuckle that he let out as you spoke. Your attempt to move away from him was met with resistance, leaving you powerless in his overwhelmingly strong grasp.

“Stay,” he ordered, “I’m not done with you.”

It was the simplest of truths; as soon as the words had left his lips, he trailed around your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing you for a moment before flattening the muscle against your swollen little pearl. It didn’t take long for one of his hands to leave your hips, and you felt his fingers at your entrance, eager to plunge deep into your waiting core. This time, they slipped into you with ease, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your climax approached swiftly, and you silently thanked Geralt that he didn’t take the opportunity to be a complete arse about that. Instead, he moaned against your skin as he softly kissed your sensitive clit before moving up again until his lips found yours. Somehow, tasting your own arousal on his capable tongue made you even wetter, and you soon squirmed helplessly as he trapped you beneath his enormous body, unable to move away from him so you could beg him to finally take you.

Eventually, he pulled back, breaking your passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled you along as he sat up on his knees.

“I was going to ask about the logistics,” he chuckled, “but this seems fine?” You nodded in reply to the question he so cleverly – yet poorly – attempted to disguise as a statement. After checking whether you were really sure about this, he held you up with only one hand, using the other to line himself up to your core.

The intense feeling of his thick cock slowly entering your body made you screw your eyes shut and knocked the air out of your lungs as your pussy struggled to accommodate his incredible girth.

“Too much?” he asked, his eyes locked on yours, looking for signs of discomfort.

“No,” you breathed, gritting your teeth as you tried to get used to the fullness, “keep going, I told you I can take it.” You searched his eyes for the feral need you had seen in them before, but you found nothing other than concern – until you caught a glimpse of the immense restraint he was showing. It was then that you realized that it took absolutely everything he had not to slam you down onto his cock – it took everything he had not to give you exactly what you wanted. “Come on, big guy,” you growled into his ear – as close as you could get to it, anyway, “put this big, fat dick in me. I want to feel every inch of you inside my tiny little cunt.”

Your crude words were rewarded with a pained low grunt, his quickening breathing, and the pounding of his heart in his chest so ridiculously loud that you could hear it when you put your head on his shoulder. Somehow, it wasn’t enough yet, and you didn’t let up on your pleading until he grabbed the side of your face with his hand. One quick look into his eyes told you you’d finally reached your goal; your relentless begging had eaten away at the resolve to take this slow, and Geralt bowed his head to roughly crushed his lips against yours, as he suddenly dropped you all the way down onto his cock.

“Oh Gods, yes!” you shrieked – the sound swallowed by his mouth firmly locked over yours. He did you the courtesy of giving you a few – brief – moments before lifting you off his cock again.

Compared to the second one, his first thrust had been gentle, and he only got rougher as he plunged into your core again and again, making you scream with every last move. They were mostly cries of utter bliss spilling from your lips – only very few escaped you out of pain. Fact of the matter was that the slight burn you felt as Geralt’s thick cock stretched your walls to their limits – and slightly beyond, perhaps – only added to your pleasure, heightened your arousal, and steadily drove you towards the edge of yet another freefall into rapture.

He had been scared to hurt you before, but seeing you so completely overcome with pleasure seemed to change something. Before you realized what was happening, your back hit the moss, and he hovered above you. One of his hands captured both of yours and pinned them to the ground above your head, while the other managed to manoeuvre your legs onto his chest. Geralt chuckled as he took notice of the fact that your feet barely reached up to his neck.

“So fucking small,” he growled before pulling out and slamming his hips into yours, “so tight.” The angle was amazing – you weren’t the only one who thought so, judging from the sounds that came from the enormous man that hovered over you, who muttered an almost uninterrupted string of profanities as he pumped his cock in and out of your aching cunt. With every new thrust, your tight, clenching walls pulled him closer and closer to his release. “Fuck, I’m going to flood this tiny little pussy,” he growled into your ear in between ragged and uneven breaths before erratically chasing his pleasure with complete, reckless disregard for your comfort – just the way you liked it. When he came inside of you, you clamped down on him, milking his fat cock for all it was worth, until every drop of his seed had spilled into you.

You knew the worst was yet to come; the moment he would pull out, and your sore muscles would clench around nothing, cum dripping from your battered hole… And indeed; when the pressure slowly disappeared, you winced and cried out in pain as you had oftentimes before – only now, you were pulled into a strong embrace, and kissed gently on your parted lips as you gasped for air.

When you woke up, Geralt was behind you, curled up comfortably around your body, and you sighed deeply. You hadn’t felt this way in a very long time; connected, sheltered, wanted. An outcast to your kin, you knew you would never be able to return ‘home’. Refusing the hand of the man your parents had chosen for you might have been excused after the first time, if you had followed that with long weeks of grovelling and begging his family for forgiveness, but since you had run away, you had naturally fallen from grace completely, while bringing grave shame upon your family. Since that day, you had often wondered if the freedom your choices brought you had been worth the price you had to pay for it. Now you knew. It was.

You yawned and stretched – or at least; you attempted to do so, but you were captured in the iron grip of Geralt’s embrace, and the strong arm draped over your waist weighed heavy on your body. It was impossible to move. Absentmindedly your fingers traced the bulging veins in his thick forearm while you remembered how those same arms had lifted you up so effortlessly the night before.

For a while, you basked in the glorious aftermath of your… you’d have called it ‘lovemaking’, perhaps, if you had any indication that he felt for you what you were starting to feel for him. For now, ‘tryst’ would have to suffice. You clearly felt the evidence of his presence in your body – you were sore all over, particularly there where you had so gracefully taken the brutal beating that had seemed such a good idea at the time. Not that you regretted your decision, far from it, even! It was rather the case that you had forgotten how taxing your particular proclivity for sizeable appendages could be. And you were sure you’d gladly forget again, in a few short days.

After some time, you really couldn’t stay put any longer. For one because your stomach was growling, and also because – and this matter was indubitably the more pressing of the two – nature was calling. Next to you, your behemoth prison keeper was fast asleep, somehow snoring considerably less annoyingly than the night before.

“Geralt,” you whispered, to no avail, leaving you with no other option than to raise your voice. “Geralt!” Unsurprisingly, that did not work either. It would simply have been far too easy if it had. It was obvious to you that kicking this man anywhere would hurt you more than it would hurt him. He carried both werewolf and orc genes, for crying out loud! You squirmed in his arms, and when that yielded no result either, you cried out. “Geralt, for the love of the Gods, you don’t even have to wake up, but please let go of me!”

“No,” he muttered, voice thick with his continued slumber, “don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, you grandiose fool,” you chuckled, “but I do need to… step outside for a moment. I will be back in a minute.”

With a sigh that was indicative of great reluctance, he lifted his arm off you, allowing you to get dressed and set out to do what needed done. Now that you were free of his grasp – though you wouldn’t dream of abandoning him – you scurried through the woods for a moment, in search of something to still the growling of your stomach.

Your quest for food was successful, but as you began to make your way back to the cave, something grabbed your arm pinning you against a tree.

“What do we have here?” the figure – cloaked, of course – spoke in the Elven tongue. It was a dialect you weren’t quite familiar with, but you managed to understand his words just fine as he spoke of his intentions – malevolent, naturally. With your hands pinned in place, you were unable to wield magic, and thus utterly defenceless against the man, leaving you with two options. The first was to suffer his abuse quietly, as you had done countless times before as you travelled the woods by yourself, the other – and preferable – option was to cry out as loud as you could and hope that help would come swiftly.

Under different circumstances, you would have uttered a general cry for help, and though you were certain that that was exactly what you had set out to do, what came out of your mouth was Geralt’s name, loudly, the sound filled with terror and agony.

“Shut up!” the man before you called out, pressing a dagger to your throat. A single tear escaped your eye as a familiar incantation was followed by the growth of vines from the tree, shackling you to it. Now that the man had a hand free, he let go of your hands and trailed your arms until he reached your face. He gently caressed your cheek – a gesture that made you feel sick to your stomach. Then, before his hand could trail further down, another figure appeared behind him. You were fairly confident it was Geralt, but before you could make sure, you were forced to close your eyes as blood splashed in your face.

When you opened them again, you saw the lifeless body of the elf at your feet – a head shorter than he’d been when he’d been threatening to harm you. You stared at the dead man on the ground, letting your hands drop to your sides as the vines disappeared now that their conjurer was no longer among the living.

“G-Geralt… You… You killed him,” you stammered, still attempting to process what had just happened.

“I did,” Geralt growled as he stepped closer. You felt his large hand, heavy on your cheek as he turned your face towards his and kneeled. “Don’t touch what’s…” His voice trailed off, his unfinished sentence heightening the tension between you.

“Say it, Geralt,” you whispered, “please.”

“No one can touch what’s mine,” he snarled softly, staring intently into your eyes. Without thinking, you lunged for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing your lips to his so fiercely that it made him laugh before he made an effort to match your fiery passion. When he broke the kiss, the look in his eyes had changed. “Are you scared of me?” he asked hoarsely, to which you answered by shaking your head decisively.

“At the very most I’m covered in elf blood, and I’d like something done about that,” you said, stepping away from Geralt to inspect the elf. When you bent down to check the body, Geralt asked what you were doing. “Free cloak,” you answered as you took the thing off the man’s shoulder. The violence from before had left it with a pretty large tear in the fabric, but it was nothing you couldn’t fix.

“That’s stealing,” Geralt mused softly.

You shrugged. “Why? He’s got no use for it now.” Beside the cloak, you found some rations and money. Geralt allowed you to grab his hand and pull him along to the stream, near the waterfall, where you quickly discarded your clothes and stepped into the chilly water. “Come here,” you called to Geralt, who hesitantly followed.

“It’s far too cold for this,” he grumbled as he helped you wash the blood off your body first, and your clothes after that. There was a hint of something else to his voice; a kind of confusion, though you could not quite put your finger on what the cause of it was.

“I’m sure we can find a way to warm up,” you said as you stepped out of the water, the cold breeze raising goosebumps all over your body. Geralt graciously offered you his shirt – a floor-length gown on you that would in no way stay on your shoulders, but at least it was warmer than being fully exposed to the cold air.

That day, as well as the next two, was uneventful; hunting and gathering, the pile of animal hides slowly growing in a corner of the space you occupied.

“We could stay, you know,” you spoke softly one night, as your fingers drew patterns through the hair on his chest and your empty pussy ached after yet another round of passionate lovemaking.

“Here?” Geralt asked, looking around the dark space.

“I know it’s not much, but we could make it into something?” you pleaded. “I haven’t had a home in a while, and I think the same applies to you.”

“My home will be wherever you are, my love,” Geralt whispered, as if that was all there was to it.

[sayafics]

Geralt of Rivia

• Soul-bonds & Heartaches

• The Hunter & The Wolf

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Kindred Spirit

Part Two - To Love

07/06/2023

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reeja (ofc)

Word Count: 5,848

Warnings: healed wounds/scars, mentions of monsters, language, fluff, unprotected sex

Summary: Geralt awakes at Melitele and finds himself soon after in the nightly gardens of the temple to thank the woman who nursed him back to life.

A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages since I posted the first part and I couldn't blame you if you were sure by now that the second part would never come. But here it is and there are two more planned. I just hope it won't take as long until I finish the next part. 🤞

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Even before he had opened his eyes, Geralt knew exactly where he was. At first there was the heady scent of incense from the pendulum, eased by the fresh smell of water that was running through the gardens and collected in smaller and larger pools or fountains. The sound and the cool it brought was meant to calm body and mind alike. A deep inhale carried a notion of the medicinal herbs that were planted all over the gardens, riddled with lots of ornamental flowers to bring a little colour and shape to indulge the eyes as well. Slowly the sweet perfume of the flower wreaths that had been left by the temple’s many visitors as an offering to the goddess mixed with the tangy notes of the herbs, accompanied by an equally sweet scent of honey that rose from the warm wax of hundreds of candles placed all over the temple. Melitele.

For many days, he had woken to the familiar scents of the temple. He had been much younger then, at a time that seemed like a whole lifetime ago now. Yet there was hardly anything that could ease his mind like the atmosphere at Melitele. It was rooted deep inside of him, the security and peace this place offered, engraved in his bones to be remembered forever. 

Still, something was not quite right about it today. There was something else, something unfamiliar mixing with the usual notes. Geralt couldn’t stop the slight alarm from crawling up on him and forcing his eyes open even though his lids still felt too heavy to abandon his sweet slumber just yet. The rich scent hung heavily in the air that filled the room, clinging to the walls and furniture despite the soft breeze that drifted through the open window. It was everywhere, on the sheets, his pillow, it even stuck to his skin.

Grabbing a fistful of cool cotton, he lifted the covers and inhaled again. Even here, from all over his naked form the unparalleled sweetness filled his nose and made him shiver. It was probably nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him, an aftereffect of the venom. 

His jaw clenched as his fingertips found the pink patch of new skin on his abdomen. That fucking arachas. Usually they were not a difficult kill, but this one had been remarkably feisty. It had surprised him in a way, or maybe that was just the lie he chose to tell himself instead of allowing himself the thought that he might be beginning to slow. 

With a sigh he sat up, the idea pushed far away to the back of his consciousness for now as the room started to spin for a moment. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, one hand fisting the sheets to steady himself while the other reached for his clothes that he had made out from the corner of his eye. They had been washed, mended and neatly folded before someone had placed them on a stool next to his bed. It didn’t surprise him in the least that they too carried the unfamiliar scent. Unfamiliar but pleasant and before he knew what he was doing, he found himself pressing the dark shirt to his face and letting the sweet scent invade his senses once more. 

“You’re awake.”

He froze in place, feeling caught even though he had his back turned towards the visitor. There was no shame between him and the woman who had taken him in, taught him the little magic he knew and cared for him more than his mother had ever done, but still he was glad that he had already managed to put on his trousers. He hurried to do the same with his shirt before he turned, a huge smile on his face. 

“Nenneke.”

She didn’t return his smile at first, worry clouding her dark eyes instead. “How are you, Geralt?”

“I’ve been better,” he scoffed, a half-smile turning one corner of his lips upward, “but I’d probably be much worse if it weren’t for you.”

“I had no hand in healing your wounds. And to be honest, I don’t think you would be at all if you hadn’t managed to reach Melitele in time.” 

Slowly she made her way over to the chair that stood by the open window on the other side of his bed and sat. Geralt was not sure whether she was watching him button up his shirt or if she was observing something on the other side of the door. But he hadn’t even managed to reach the last button, when a whiff of air seemed to follow Nenneke’s path through the room and he knew. 

The scent came richer than before, urging him to turn around and he had to steady himself as it rolled over his whole body, so fresh and enticing. His ears picked up a soft hum as well, as sweet as the scent it accompanied, and without noticing his hand lifted to ease along the pair of deep creases between his eyebrows. 

“Who—” he started his question, but the words refused to leave his mouth as for a split second, someone came into view. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared, too fast for him to memorise whether she was short or tall, whether her hair was long, blonde or black, there was only one thing apart from her scent his mind had committed to memory: her eyes. They were beautiful, sparkling, but so were others. No, there was something else about them, something deeper, that had drawn him in in the blink of an eye, irrevocably, that had opened him up for her to gaze beyond flesh and bone directly into his heart. 

“That’s Adreejana.” 

For the second time, Nenneke’s voice startled him and as he turned to find an amused smile on her lips, he could feel the heat crawl into his cheeks.

“She’s the best student I ever had. I introduced her to the studies of healing, her salves and potions are extraordinary. Don’t tell her I said that, but they might even exceed my own. You would still be unconscious and lying in bed with a bad fever if it weren’t for her.”

It took him a while to find his voice again, and even then he only managed to form half a sentence. “So she’s the one—” who nursed me back to life, he had wanted to say, but it would have sounded awfully sentimental for someone like him. 

“She is.” 

As if the confirmation had made her reappear at the door again, Geralt turned once more. Of course the spot where she had been mere moments ago was empty, still he couldn’t help but stare foolishly at it.

“Why don’t you go talk to her? I know she may seem shy at first, but once you’ve gained her trust, I’m certain you two will find that you have much in common.”

He strongly doubted that. Whatever could he have in common with someone like her? Someone delicate, refined, someone soulful.

It was quiet now in the gardens. Without the sound of birdsong or the buzzing of insects, there was only the soft susurration of the leaves and grass, mixing with the light gurgling of water from the fountains and pools. And a little further away, somewhere in the dark, he could make out a low hum. 

It was what he had come for—who he had come for—and still it made him stop in his tracks. He had put this off all day even though his thoughts had revolved around little else. It was ridiculous really to be this nervous about talking to a woman for the first time. He had talked to many women before, had uttered things in the heat of carnal passion he wouldn’t even dare repeat to his brothers, yet here he stood, lost for even a simple expression of gratitude for the person who had healed him and thus saved his life. 

With a sigh he finally pushed on, his feet growing heavier with every step and once again, he contemplated turning back around and trying again in the morning, when his eyes made out her form in the deserted garden at last. As he had anticipated, she was harvesting herbs—woolly thyme, lamb’s ear, lavender, sage. Some said it was mere superstition to do so at night. He wasn’t one of them. And neither was she, it seemed, as he watched her go about her work for a while. Skilful hands moved swiftly, yet the movement was of an elegance that only sprung from long experience. She looked so innocent, the world around her forgotten while she had fully emerged herself in her task. 

Thanks to the darkness and the fact that her back was turned to him, he still couldn’t make out any distinct features. From what little hair peeked out from underneath the veil that covered it, he could tell it was of a dark colour, probably an earthy tone, and long, ending somewhere just above her behind. And even though the fashion of her dress resembled that of the temple priestesses, its colour, most likely a shade of green, told him that she wasn’t one of them. 

Without a sound, Geralt drew closer, eager to discover more details on the way. But all he got was more of her scent, pure, like the rest of her, as the first winter snow. The closer he came, the surer he grew that for the first time, Nenneke must have been mistaken. They had nothing in common, not in the least. On the contrary, it couldn’t have been more obvious that everything about her was a stark contrast to himself, a monster in comparison, his hands having killed so many while hers had probably saved the same amount of lives, or more. 

It almost seemed blasphemous to touch her, still he found his hand reaching out for her until his fingertips found the warm skin of her bare shoulder. She jolted, rising to her feet in an instant, but it was only when she turned to face the intruder that Geralt felt her heart speeding up and caught the hitch in her breath. He fully expected her to take a step back to bring some distance between them, but to his surprise she stayed put.

“Geralt!” Her voice was steady, seeming perfectly calm, but then her words chose to betray her. “I mean Master Witcher, um, Mr White Wolf of Rivia, sir.”

“Geralt is fine.” He tried an encouraging smile, but when she didn’t return it, he feared he had messed up. He didn’t have much practice in smiling and more than once he had been told that it could strike more terror than his scowl. The only reaction he could make out was a quick nod.

“Can I help you with anything, Geralt? If you are looking for Nenneke, she’s—” 

“I’m not looking for Nenneke.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” Without meaning to, he took a step closer.

“Some medicine then? Is the wound still troubling you?”

Even before her hand reached out, he could sense the movement. It wasn’t consciously made but born from instinct, leading her as far as the black fabric that covered his stomach before her senses came back to life, and she pulled away in a hurry. Wide eyes stared up at him, shocked by her own lack of restraint. 

“Actually I was looking for you.”

“For me?” 

If it was possible, her eyes grew even wider. 

“Yes, for you. Nenneke told me who you are and what you did for me.” 

Her mouth opened for a reply, but then she seemed to remember something and averted her gaze. It wasn’t hard to guess which images had come back to her judging from the flustered state she was in and another pleased smile spread across Geralt’s lips.

“I wanted to thank you for your…kindness,” he teased, reeling in the way it almost made her squirm. 

“It was nothing.”

They both knew it was far from nothing. She had saved his life.

“You needed help and I knew what to do. Anyone else would have done the same.”

If Geralt had learned anything about mankind, it was that there was no help to expect. Not for a witcher.

“Believe me, they wouldn’t.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. He wasn’t sure whether to try a smile again, but when he noticed the nervous fiddling of her fingers, he abandoned that idea. Instead, he took the freshly plucked roots she had been twisting and turning from her hands and brought them to his nose.

“Valerian?”

Immediately her face lit up, “You have an understanding of herbs?”, just to fall again when she realised. “Sorry, what a stupid question. Of course you do.”

“A little, yes. Not that my knowledge could ever match yours though.”

Geralt watched her teeth dig into her lower lip, the thread of their conversation slightly slipping from his mind.

“I probably don’t even know half as much as you credit me for.”

“And still it’s obviously more than I do.” He lifted the roots in his hands before putting them back into the basket that was still standing next to her feet. “For example I didn’t know valerian had to be harvested during a full moon.”

His deduction made her chuckle and even though he didn’t know why, he couldn’t help but smile along. 

“It doesn’t. I just didn’t find the time during the day.”

“You better don’t keep your sleepless patient waiting then.”

Idiot, he scolded himself. The conversation had just begun to become less awkward and now he was practically sending her away. And judging from her bewildered look, she would be more than eager to escape him. But then her gaze suddenly cleared.

“Ah, no. The valerian is not for a patient.”

“Hm. So it is you who has trouble sleeping then?”

Her eyes fell to the ground. “I do, sometimes.”

“Do you know what I used to do when I couldn’t sleep during my time at the temple school?”

She shook her head. Of course she didn’t know, how could she? And when she lifted her head in hope of an answer, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

There was no hesitation in the way her hand found his. It looked so delicate against his own, glistening in the bright moonlight like a precious jewel. He gave her a moment, waiting for her to reach for her basket, but she didn’t. And so he began to lead her through the nightly garden. Soon they reached one of the inner courtyards which housed a small fountain lined with jasmine. The air was heavy with its intoxicating aroma and he could feel it take a hold of them both. 

It was silent here, apart from the string concert of a few cicadas and the steady breathing of his companion behind him. She probably knew where they were headed by now, still she didn’t let go of his hand as he stopped in front of the large wooden door. He listened for a moment, and he only allowed himself to breathe again when his ears didn’t pick up any heartbeats on the other side. With a groan the door gave way and Geralt lead her to the middle of the pitch black room.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear, causing a shiver. And even though his command seemed redundant in a dark room, she did as he had asked of her. “Wait here.”

Soon, the black was replaced by soft hues of gold and orange that danced across her closed lids and she could feel his presence by her side even though she hadn’t heard him approach. The warmth that radiated off his body came closer and she felt it seep through her clothes and underneath her skin long before his chest met her back. Gently his arm rounded her middle until his hand came to rest on her stomach and he pulled her closer. Warm fingers touching her forehead, he guided her head back to rest against him. 

“Now open your eyes.”

The soft vibrations of his low voice rumbled through his chest, spreading to her own body, rolling through her to collect deep inside her core, causing a sensation that threatened to unleash in a heady moan, when she obeyed his wish and the sight before her rendered her speechless.

She knew the room, knew the dark blue ceiling with its spots of mother of pearl and gold, but she had never seen it like this. The blue had faded to black in the dim light of the candles, the dancing flames creating a perfect illusion that made her feel as if she was gazing straight through the ceiling, up into the night sky with a million of twinkling stars. 

“This is my favourite room at Melitele. I used to sneak in here many nights during my time here.” 

It was his voice again. There was something about it that made her foolish and what made it even more dangerous was that it stopped her from caring. And so she closed her eyes and allowed her head to tilt towards the warmth of his cheek until she could feel the tickle of his scruff against her skin. 

“I think it is something about this artificial sky, it offers a strange sense of peace.”

She hummed in agreement, her cheek moving against his in a gentle caress and his fingers pressed further into her stomach in a wordless answer. 

“If people knew, they’d surely come here more often.” Not simply because of the view, but because of his connection to it. “You are quite the legend inside these walls.”

She could feel him stiffen against her back. “It seems I have quite the reputation outside of these walls as well,” he scoffed.

“Really? I didn’t know that. I don’t leave this place often. What do people say?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” she finally whispered after a moment of consideration, wiping away the tension from his body with just one word. “I’d rather like to find out who you are by myself.”

He would have noticed much sooner, but the hand that found his neck distracted him for a moment. The heat it brought spread through his whole body, pulsing through him without restraint until the blooming desire made him dizzy. But even through the white noise that clouded his ears, he could hear it loud and clear. He also felt it, against his chest as much as underneath his fingertips, beating wildly and faster with every breath she took. There was also this scent, heady and bewitching as it evaporated from her skin freely, and he knew that it meant one thing and one thing only. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her.

Assured by the unmistakable signs her body sent him, his hand began to wander, following the call of heat south, a heat he felt growing stronger in the valley of her thighs with every heartbeat. The grip on his neck tightened as his fingers finally reached their destination. Everything about her was ready to give in, her legs slightly spreading, allowing him more room to venture further, her lips falling apart in a gasp, aching to meet his, so close now, when the spell suddenly broke and she drew away.

His instincts told him to follow her and for the first time in forever he felt they had betrayed him when she took another step back, away from him. And so he stopped, ready to apologise and bid her goodnight. He had seen this many times, people, women, shying away from him as soon as they realised what he was. By now, he didn’t take it personal anymore. The fear in their eyes had lost its power to break his heart long ago. 

But it wasn’t fear he found when her eyes met his again. At least not of him. For once, someone hadn’t fled his touch because they thought he was a monster. She was afraid of herself, afraid of giving in to her own desire. 

Patiently he waited until her breathing slowed and when he took another step towards her, she didn’t shy away again. To be fair, she wouldn’t have come far anyway with one of the large pillars that supported the ceiling almost right behind her. But the smell of honeyed nectar that began to pool at the apex of her thighs as he drew in on her promised that she didn’t want to go anywhere. 

She was so close now, his chest almost touching hers, the heat of her laboured breaths slipping past the buttons of his shirt to tease the hair that covered his pecs and stomach. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, a mistake, he realised at once as another strong wave of her arousal flooded his senses. One hand reaching for the cool stone behind her to keep him from crushing into her, his eyes fell closed as the world began to spin. 

“Geralt?”

He wasn’t sure what caused his eyes to snap open again, the worry in her voice or the touch of her hand, squeezing his own. He thought he was dreaming as he watched her while she slowly lifted it to her face to cup her cheek. She was soft as silk against his touch and soon he found himself exploring more of her, fingertips gliding along her jaw, her chin, her lips. Somewhere along the way her eyes had fallen shut, her lips parted and she was his. 

He was hers too, although he couldn’t tell when exactly it had happened. Had it been when he had first laid eyes on her, that brief moment after he had regained consciousness? Or had it been while he had watched her work, the moonlight washing over her form and making her glow? Or was it now that his lips touched hers for the first time, barely even so, careful, probing, then deeper, more intimately until her arms and legs wrapped around him and they tasted each other fully, breathed each other in as if they could do the impossible and become one.

Not here though, not in an act of fleeting passion against a stone pillar. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted her to enjoy this, to celebrate whatever it was that was blooming between them, all night long. And then all morning, all afternoon and evening and then all night again, until they were blissed out and spent.

And so he carried her to his room, her lips not once leaving his until he had set her down on her feet again. Gently he took her hands from his neck and brought them to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Adreejana.”

“Call me Reeja, please.”

“Reeja.” A shiver washed over her skin as his lips and tongue caressed her name, speaking it with a softness no one ever had. “What else do you want me to do?”

She pondered his question for a while, aching to feel him close again, to kiss him, and yet there was something that would make all of this even sweeter.

“Undress yourself.”

She had expected him to raise his brows in astonishment or at least tease her a little for her request, but he did nothing of the sort. He simply did as she had asked of him, starting with the buttons of his shirt. Reeja remained close, watching as determined hands yanked the dark fabric out of his trousers before it glided from his wide shoulders and fell to the ground. He didn’t stop, not one second of hesitation as his fingers repeated their actions on his trousers and they, too, fell away to reveal every last bit of him. 

Geralt watched the same twitch in her hand that he had seen earlier tonight when she had asked after his wound, but this time, he hoped, she wouldn’t pull away.

“Go ahead, nothing you haven’t touched before.”

The sensation of her caress tempted him to close his eyes when her fingers finally found his skin, but even more he wanted to see them move, wanted to watch her explore his body, no matter how much it would cost him not to go insane with want while doing so. 

The movement of her hand mirrored that of her other, tracing the lines of his shoulders and clavicles until her fingers touched right underneath the dip where his neck and chest met and ventured further down to graze through his silky fur. She let them rest there for a while, her right hand close to his heart.

“I always thought a witcher’s heartbeat is supposed to be much slower than a humans.”

“It usually is,” he smirked.

“Oh.”

She was adorable when she was flustered and he couldn’t help his hand from gliding into her hair to bring her lips to his again. All senses dazed by his kiss, he could feel her touch loosing grip and her hands began to drift down his stomach. Lazily they followed the slight up and down of his muscles, moving closer to the prominent V that lined his hips when they came to an abrupt stop and then left his skin altogether.

Bewildered by the sudden absence of her touch, Geralt broke the kiss to search her eyes for the reason of her retreat. 

“Does it still hurt?”

It was clear that he didn’t understand, his eyebrows knitting even closer together than before her question. 

“Your scar.”

He still looked a little puzzled, but then he followed the line of her finger that pointed at the latest edition to his collection. It was hardly any different from the many other scars that decorated his skin, only a touch of light rose hinted at the fact that it was the most recent of them all.

“No, it doesn’t.” He hadn’t even noticed a difference when her fingers had crossed it. And even now, when they found the freshly healed wound again, her touch didn’t cause any discomfort. On the contrary. 

“I’m afraid it will stay though.”

Slowly his hand pushed across hers, sealing it in place.

“Good, it will forever remind me of your kindness. The mind tends to forget, but scars remember everything.”

“I know.” Her voice was but a mere whisper, her eyes suddenly avoiding him once more and when she freed her hand from underneath his, he let her. Shaky fingers began to unclasp the plaited leather belt that set on her hips before they travelled up to the simple golden fibula on her shoulder, the only thing that held her dress in place. By now her hands were trembling so violently that it kept gliding out of her fingers over and over again. 

“May I?”

It seemed that her words had abandoned her once more, still she consented with a nod and Geralt was quick to finish the task for her. He could have watched forever as the olive fabric cascaded down her form, like a curtain, falling instead of rising, to reveal what his eyes had longed so much to see. The moment was over too soon, but the effect grew stronger by the second, until every single fibre of his body was fighting the urge to sink his fingertips into her skin to feel her, all of her, inch by inch by inch. 

Instead he forced himself to look up into her eyes again. She was about to turn when he caught something in her gaze that sent a cold shiver down his spine. And then he understood. Almost all of her back was covered in a huge, angry burn mark, spreading all the way from her shoulders down to her pelvis. Simply imagining the pain it must have caused her made his stomach turn and red heat course through his veins. He wanted to touch her, to soothe the memory of the pain however long ago it might have subsided, but then he remembered how hesitant she had been to touch his scars and halted midway. 

“It’s appalling, I know,” she spoke lowly, and he knew he had messed up again, his hesitation leading her to believe that he was repulsed.

“No, it’s not. Not in the least. Nothing about you could ever be appalling to me.”

She sighed and he knew she didn’t believe him even before she spoke again. “Then why did you pull away?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

A myriad of emotions washed over her face at once and Geralt hadn’t identified them all when she took his hand and brought it closer to her face. Softly her fingertips glided along his palm, inspecting it as if she could measure whether his hand held any danger.

“You would never.”

No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he was eager to show her when she guided his hand to her back and placed it right in the center of her scar. He was astonished how smooth it was, silky and soft like the rest of her skin. The tissue was nothing like the scars on his body, not bulgy or messy to show at first glance how much the wounds had hurt. But he knew all too well the agony she must have been through.

“What happened?”

She turned in his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he pulled her tightly against himself. 

“Let the past be the past. Just for tonight. I promise to tell you another time. But for now I’d rather forget about it.”

“Then let me help you forget.”

The touch of her lips was light, barely even palpable against his strong pulse, but he hadn’t just imagined it and it was all the confirmation he needed. He left an open mouthed kiss on the top of her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste the salted honey of her skin. A few inches away, he repeated his movement, venturing further with every kiss until he had reached the exact spot her lips had met his skin mere seconds ago and a loud moan broke the silence as he began to tend to her sensitive flesh. It was heaven and he needed more of it. Luckily he knew how to get it, not wasting a single second to let his fingers glide right into the heat they had tasted before. Slick with arousal, she welcomed him in, sharp nails digging into his shoulder the further he ventured. 

“Geralt,” she breathed, sending a flash of lightning straight to his loins that coaxed an unholy grunt from the depths of his chest. “If you keep on using that technique I will have forgotten even my name come morning.”

He stopped immediately, a deep chuckle telling of his amusement as he softly removed his fingers.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

She had wanted to reply something witty, but when the two glistening fingers he had pleasured her with vanished in between his lips with a delighted hum, her mind went completely blank. Speechless she watched as he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his massive chest bouncing enticingly in the process. If he had already registered her dumbfounded state, he didn’t let on. Not even the slightest hint of a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips as he extended his hand and bade her join him. 

He had probably anticipated she would take the place next to him, but she chose to climb his lap instead. She could feel him against herself, hard and heavy, twitching in anticipation as she pulled herself even closer against him. There was a need in his kiss she hadn’t felt there before. But not only in his kiss, it was in his hands, too, as they eagerly grabbed her behind and guided her up and down. It matched her own, matched the growing heat inside of her, from a fire only he could quench. 

“Have you…have you been with a man before?”

“With men, yes. But never with someone like you.”

“A mutant?” He didn’t know why he had assumed that was what she meant, a reflex probably. But it made her stop and that was the last he had wanted. 

“No,” she laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes holding his intently, “a gentle soul. A kindred spirit.”

“Reeja.”

His voice was shaky, overwhelmed by the goodness her heart held. And thankful for it because maybe it was that very goodness that made her see beyond what everyone else saw in him and helped her fathom the goodness in his own heart. And however little of it still remained, it was hers, entirely hers. 

“Geralt,” she moaned his name as she aligned his tip with her entrance and lowered herself in an agonisingly slow pace. Their names were the last that was spoken. There was no room for more words, all they needed was to feel. Feel the way he filled her so perfectly as if they were made for each other, feel the velvet of her walls embracing him tightly, welcoming him deeper with every slow roll of her hips. It was anguish and delight, they were delirious, lost in each other and yet they had never been more at peace. 

Every kiss, every thrust they celebrated with the longing of the first and the hesitancy to let go of the last, their bodies completely tangled in each other after he had turned them both over. She was writhing underneath him, drawing him down against her to feel more of his delicious weight on her. Grunts and groans, mewling and moaning filled the silence of the night, rising, rising, rising until they both came apart in each others arms. Once, twice, losing count somewhere in the spiral of desire and satisfaction long before morning came.

For Geralt’s taste, it came far too soon. His limbs were still entangled with Reeja’s, impossible to unravel. Not that he had wanted to. He loved to lie here, nestled in between her breasts, her fingers woven into his hair to keep him close. In the still of the approaching morning he could hear her heartbeat against his ear. Steady now, needing the peace after the heated passion of the past night. He pushed the thought aside for the moment as it threatened to fan the embers of his desire anew, but he didn’t want to wake her. There would be time enough to spoil her again after she had rested. 

He smiled when he recalled the original plan to leave as soon as his wound had healed. Everyone always chided him for not allowing his body to properly restore itself. Maybe it was time to try something new and listen to them, just this once. Just to make sure. 

***

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[mystra-midnight]

pairing: geralt of rivia x witch ! ofc (lunaria)

tags: feelings of inadequacy. feelings of abandonment. mentions of rape. panic attacks. ptsd. murder. assassination attempts. violence & gore. size kink. semi-slow burn. mutual pining. smut; oral, fingering, p in v, sub/dom dynamics, rough sex. multiple povs throughout.

w/c: to be revised upon completion.

summery: in a world filled with loneliness, two individuals discover unexpected solace in one another. lunaria has spent her life alone, trusting only one individual with her whereabouts and identity. geralt of rivia has walked through life a shadow of himself since losing yennfer. in each other, they find a kindred spirit, a beacon of light in the darkness that has consumed their lives for so long. amidst the chaos of their journey, they find peace in each other's company, discovering that even the most broken hearts can find healing.

prologue

chapter i

chapter ii

chapter iii

chapter iv

chapter v

. . .

(dividers credit @saradika) (support banner credit @cafekitsune) (header credit @mystra-midnight)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Well, I guess I hadn't read this. Cuz omgggg I did not remember any of this.

I loved chapter 1, it was so good!!!!!!!!!

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess.

Hey guys! This is my Second Story! Took me FOREVER to figure out when and where to start it. But I do hope you enjoy It. Once I got the hang of it, it was so much fun to put together. Enjoy 🖤🤍

**I do not give permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warning 18+: Strong Vulgar Language , Violence , Blood , Racism , Monsters , Death , Grief , Mentions of Loss .

Pairing: Henry Cavill(Geralt) x African American Woman(Phoenix-POV)

Description: Phoenix tries to continue to live in the shadows until she comes across an unfortunate event. Where she’ll also meet a new friend.

Word Count: 7.0K

Chapter 1: Her Majesty

'Harder! Push! Strike! Push! Strike!-' The sounds of steel clinked together with the sound of Phoenix's grunts. 'GRRRR-AHH!' she exclaimed as she swung her blade tiredly at Levy's head. He ducked just in time, and before she could bring her tired arms up to swing again, he pushed her back. 'Uhh!' Thud. Phoenix's eyes looked up at Levy with great anger. She scrambled over to her sword but before she could grab it, he had already had his foot on the blade. Grunting, she tugged on the handle as she tried to pull it from beneath his weight. 'Let go!' She exclaimed with an annoyed tone.

'Get Up,' He'd demanded with a deep, and dark voice.

'I don't wanna! You can't make me!' She pouted and sat up on her bottom and crossed her legs together, folding her little arms across her chest. The large male snatched her up by her arm and placed her on her feet. 'YOU WON'T HAVE TIME TO SIT AND MOPE AROUND WHEN YOUR KINGDOM IS BEING RAIDED! YOU WON'T HAVE TIME TO SIT AND MOPE AROUND WHEN YOU'RE FACING DEATH IN THE BATTLEFIELD!'

The young girl looked up at the knight, the pain from her arm was completely masked out by the fear she felt in this moment. His eyes were green like jade and he had a nasty scar over his left eye. His hair thick with curls and was bright blonde. So blonde that it was almost platinum. He was a huge man, which it was no wonder why he was the King's Golden Knight.

Phoenix let out a small whimper as she looked up into his eyes. 'L-Levy...' And he violently pushed her arm away and stepped off of the sword. The princess whimpered and rubbed the spot where his fingers squeezed into her flesh. 'You have no idea how good you have it child,' He huffed and walked over to the weapons rack and placed his sword down on the table so it could be resharpened by the blacksmith later. 'You never had to witness a gruesome sight as watching those around you drop. You'll never understand the pain of watching your friends die so young. Thus,' He turned around and walked back towards her. 'Is why I am trying to teach you as best as I can. You don't learn by being a spoiled brat and half assing your lessons...' He stood there, arms folded across his chest. 'I didn't mean to be so angry. You know I would die protecting you princess. But you have to trust me. You aren't like your mother, you have fight. You weren't bred to just sit up in a castle and look pretty all day princess. A Queen rules, even when it's time for her to risk her life for the safety of her kingdom. Do you understand?'

'Y-yes sir.' She murmured out as she put her hands behind her back.

'Good. Pick up your sword, place it next to mine and pick up the wood. You'll be using those for the rest of the day.'

'Aw but Levy!?'

'No buts! Go.' He argued back and walked over to his chair and sat down in it.

***

Phoenix was sitting beneath a large Oak tree, falling in and out of sleep as the children laughed and played by the lake. They weren't her own children no, but when you do something nice for someone, specifically, orphaned children, they tend to follow. It was a set of twins; Nika and Noel. Both of them had hair so dark, it was like staring into a black abyss. They had bright purple eyes, pointy ears and pale white skin. Phoenix thought they were angels at one point until she caught Noel playing with her mini hand blade and he'd cut his little hand.

'AHHHHH!' The little girl screamed happily and ran from her brother. The sudden screech caused her to gasp loudly, sitting up and quickly reaching over for the handle of her sword. Her brown eyes studied the area to make sure they weren't in any danger. She stood up quickly; still slightly delusional from her lack of sleep. 'NOEL! NIKA!?' The children stopped dead in their tracks. She jogged over to them, 'Are you hurt children?!' She asked before stabbing her sword into the dry dirt.

'No mama.' Noel said softly.

'We were just playing!' And Nika chimed in.

'Hmmm,' she said before her eyes did a scan of the area once again. Nothing seem out of the ordinary at the time. But with her luck, someone was always on her heels. 'What have I told you about that word child? I'm not your mother.' Phoenix said with a gentle sigh and got down to their heights. 'Well, you are the only mama we know. You feed us, clean us, make sure we aren't sick...' Noel stared at her with a slight bit of challenge in his eyes. 'What else would you be then?' She looked away from him then to his sister who had her little hands on her hips, with the look of approval spread across her face. Noel had a point. Damn, to be little beings, they sure did have a big brain in their heads.

She took a deep breath and looked down at the grass between them. Not knowing what to say or, not really wanting to say anything at all about this subject, she looked back up at them with a gentle smile and stood up. 'Come on, you two must be hungry and I have to get some fire wood before nightfall.' She rubbed both of their heads, ruffling their hair and turned around to retrieve her sword.

The children stayed on her heels, occasionally making the attempt to match their little feet in her tracks as they walked in the market. The three of them got glares for various of reasons. She was a curvy black woman with curly thick hair, who stood at 5'6 and walked around confidently with a sword on her hip. And unfortunately, if you didn't look like the folks in this village, you were automatically ostracized. Not to mention she had these small children on her tail that clearly looked anything but human.

When Phoenix felt them lagging behind, she swiftly turned around and spotted them purposely jumping in the mud, splashing it all over the place with their feet. She clenched her jaw as a growl rumbled in her throat. Taking just a few long strides, she reached them and grabbed them both by their hands. 'Let's go!' She kept her head down, hidden by her hood. She knew that she was being watched by not only these people, but really they were the least of her problems.

She walked into a pub with the children's hand's in her grasp. Her eyes scanned the room for familiar faces and even potential danger. The folks in the bar had seem to stop what they were doing and stare back at her in an unsettling silence. 'No children allowed! This is a pub, not a brothel for a brown whore and her elven bastards.'

The pub rumbled with laughter and suddenly she felt something she had never felt before. She'd felt anger, disgust, annoyance, but this was deeper than those things. Perhaps they were all in one. Embarrassment. To take away from that uncomfortable feeling that settled within the pits of her, she looked down at Nika and then Noel. And the look on their faces, caused her heart to ache. They did not know her to stand down or take shit from anybody. But the odds were not in her favor this time.

So, she just lifted her head and approached the bar as the sounds of their little feet pattered against the wooden flooring. The innkeeper pressed his lips together and his features darkened, 'I said no children aloud.' Phoenix glared at him and let go of their small hands. 'I have coin. I just want to feed the children. Once they're full then we will be on our way.' Her voice was calm, nothing but pure sincereness behind it. After all, that's all she cared about.

'I said. No. Shite, you're deaf too?!' he chuckled and looked down as he begun to bust the wooden bar top. Now she was angry. Her hands shook and twitched- so tempted to grab her hand knife and plunge it deep into his throat. But her thoughts were bombarded by a booming voice. 'AW HELL,' The innkeeper quickly lifted his head to find the man who spoke against him. But when he saw him, his features quickly softened. 'Let the woman feed those children! What's a bird to ya'? A few pounds off your heavy arse?' And the room echoed with laughter. 'R-right away m'lord.' He gave him a quick bow and scurried off to the back.

The children turned around, and they stared up at the male in disbelief. 'Mama?! Mama, look! It's a knight!' Nila boasted as she tugged at her index finger. Phoenix turned around to look at the child, 'Girl, I told you to stop-' But her curiosity got the best of her, her peripheral was able to make out the shape of the man. He was tall, wore gold and red steel armor with a large dragon on his chest. It was her Kingdom's emblem. Something she hadn't seen in ages.

'Miss?'

She finally turned her head to look up at him. And by the Gods, she had never been so terrified in her life.

***

The girl was staring along the foggy lake with a gentle smile on her face. She was feeling content and happy with life. Tomorrow would be the day that she would start preparing for her duties as Queen and she had to take a few moments to relax as she would probably never get this again. But her mood was quickly diminished when her long time friend had finally spoke up.

'I'm leaving for the war tomorrow.' Fredrick said as he carved into his apple. She snapped her head to look at him, 'You're what? On my birthday?!' It didn't matter that he'd been around for the part 17 birthdays, this one was the most important one to her. Fredrick sat in silence with his head hung. 'Your father?! What does he have to say about this?!' She asked as she grabbed her dress and stood up to her feet.

'Well, other than the fact that he's the one sending me- hmm,' he let out a humorless chuckle, 'He didn't say much really.'

The princess looked down at him with tears in her eyes. She knew how wars went. What it took to win them. And the way this war was being handled, well it wasn't looking great for her future throne. Her mouth fell open gently, as she felt the heat in her neck travel quickly to her face. 'No-You can't go out there Fredrick! You're only 18! You're only a child! You'll die out there!' Her voice cracked as she watched him stand to his feet. His face held no emotion, and it made her heart shatter. 'You're not going to say anything?!' This was more deeper for her. Their friendship went deeper than any friendship that she'd had. She was in love with him.

'What can I say Phoenix. I've been pleading with him for weeks about it. Begging him to just a least allow me to stay on your birthday. But they need me.'

Phoenix's pinkened and slight swollen eyes grew slightly at the news, 'Wait, you knew that you were leaving?! And didn't bother to tell me until the last minute Fredrick?! You thought this would spare me of my heartache?! That I would just simply congratulate you and send you on your inevitable journey?!'

Fredrick placed his blade and his apple on the marble bench after taking a deep breath, 'I didn't think of it like that Phoenix. I was just too busy trying to spend as much time with you as possible!'

Phoenix let out an annoyed whine and turned her back to face him. Her hands rest on top of her hips as she tried to pull herself together. 'Phoenix,' She looked up at the cloudy sky that was somewhat blocked by tree branches, and its leaves. She could hear the crunching of the grass behind her as if he was approaching her. Then his hands gently gripped at her arms and slowly turned her around to face him.

'Princess,' The boy said in a flirtatious tone. 'You know I hate to see you distraught. If you can, please find it in your heart to forgive me.' He said as he grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss upon her knuckles.

She looked away, trying to hide the smile that was fighting to curl on her full lips. 'And if I don't forgive you?' she asked as her head fell to the side. 'Then I'd just have to simply make up for it then.' She smiled softly, and he matched it before slowly leaning in for a kiss.

Before their lips could meet in a kiss, a dreadful sound echoed throughout the Kingdom. A sound that she was so unprepared for. Phoenix gasped, gently pushing Fredrick away and lifted her dress. They both knew what it had meant. And their feet took off towards the castle before their minds could even process what was going on. The bells had tolled.

The King was dead.

***

It was like a ghost was standing before her. Her eyes grew double their size and she quickly grabbed the children's hands in hers once again.

'Phoenix.' he said softly, with a gentle smile on his face.

He hadn't changed a bit! His hair was still long, bright ginger and kept their thick curls. His deep blue eyes roamed over her body as if she had been a work of art. He had gotten much bigger, over the past 2 decades. If it wasn't for her family's crest, there was no way she'd be able to recognize him.

'children,' she stared at him now with her face relaxed, 'We must go now.' And she quickly walked past him with the little ones dragging behind her.

'Phoenix!' she heard him call out. When they made it outside, everyone once again, stopped what they were doing and turned their attention towards her and the twins. She kept walking, fast as she possibly could with Nila and Noel until she grew impatient and scooped them up in her arms. And once again, 'Phoenix!'

She could hear the sound of his metal clinking together, and shifting as his feet crashed into the mud; jogging behind her. Before he could place his hand on her shoulder to spin her around, she turned around to face him. 'That’s not my name! Don’t call me that!' Her brown eyes were clouded with sadness and rage. All these years, he didn't try to contact her? Everyone had heard that the princess was still alive. Which was why the King had put a bounty on her head. ‘What is it Knight?! Come to turn me in? Is that what we’re doing?! Fine! But allow me to find these children somewhere safe to sleep!’ Her voice was rugged; clearly she was a mess.

Fredrick was startled by her behavior. She still had that fight in her, so bold and that protective nature. He looked around as the village folk turned their attention towards them, clueless as to really who the woman and those children were. ‘Phoenix… no one here knows who you are alright? If they had, your head would’ve been on a pike by now. Please, I know it’s been some time but allow me to explain…’ he stared into her golden brown eyes with sincerity and held his hand out towards her. ‘I still only want what’s best for you Phoenix. Just— allow me to explain my side of the story.’

She glared up at him, for a long moment before looking around once. He was right. Sure, she was a very skilled fighter, but if these people figured out who she was, what kind of reward they’d receive for her, they would’ve ripped her apart within seconds. They already looked like they wanted to kill her, this just would’ve made it legal.

—The children were stuffing their faces with a hen and potatoes as the four of them sat at a table in that very same pub. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of them, even though they were eating, she couldn’t help but worry about them. Or was it because she had nothing really to say to Fredrick.

He stared at her, trying to penetrate that brick wall that was put up over the years. She hadn’t changed; not to him anyway. She still had the same captivating brown eyes, full perfect lips, curls that bounced vigorously with her every movement, and skin that would radiate and glisten like bronze in the sun. There had been plenty of nights that he’d dream of meeting her again, and now that he wad finally here… now that he promised to explain what happened— he didn’t know what to say. ‘I—‘

‘If these people find out who I am, these children will die right along with you. Why did you decide to even follow me.’ Living a life of paranoia, was really the only thing that kept her and those children alive. It wasn’t a way to live, especially not for them.

Fredrick let out a gentle sigh and pressed his lips together, ‘I’m aware of that your grace.’

Wow, she hadn’t been called that in quite some time. ‘Don’t call me that—‘ she looked towards the window , ‘I’m nobody’s princess. Not anymore. No one’s Queen, no one’s lady. Just a fugitive.’ She reached over and grabbed her mug that was filled with water. ‘Anyway, you said you wanted to talk— so talk.’

The Knight glared at her in disbelief. Her attitude hadn’t changed either, and that alone caused a smirk to form on his lips. ‘You know you haven’t changed. You’ve aged well.’

‘Hmph.’

‘I’m serious. The last time I’d seen you, you were—‘

*** ‘Fath—?!’ The two burst into her father’s chambers to find him on the floor, in a puddle of his own blood. ‘PAPA!!!’ She exclaimed and ran over to the corpse and pulled him up into her arms. The princess sobbed uncontrollably, her words inaudible as she rocked back and forward. She’d gotten blood all over her dress, arms and hands. ‘Dad! Dad please come back!’ She sobbed as she shook him.

‘Phoenix—‘ Fredrick said as he tried to reach out for her, but she swung her arm at him not wanting to be touched. He felt horrible about all of this. King Stephen may have not been his father, but he was one of the father figures in his life and this was a great loss for the people that knew him personally, and for their kingdom. He turned around when he heard quick footsteps, along with the familiar sound of metal clinking.

Queen Silvia was accompanied by a few of the royal guards and she clearly looked distraught. She placed her hand on her large rounded belly and pointed at the princess. ‘Th—there! There she is! I saw her do it!’ Phoenix was still holding her father in her arms, completely shutting the world out around her.

‘Wha— pardon your majesty but, she was down at the lake with me. There’s no possible way she could have killed the king.’ Sure he was her alibi, but when the Queen challenged him, ‘And what were you doing with my step daughter at the lake?!’ Fredrick just shut his mouth. He couldn’t tell her that they’d been doing this for weeks and on occasions would kiss. The princess was promised to a Prince just North of here. So he thought it was only best to keep his mouth shut.

Queen Silvia waddled over to him quickly as she held her dress. ‘You be careful who you protect boy! It could get you killed!’ She glared down at him with her wet, glowing pink eyes. Even though he knew the Queen was wrong and bat shit out of her mind, he didn’t dare challenge her. So his head fell, ‘Yes, your majesty.’ He said softly with his fingers laced together. She backed away and looked over at the sobbing girl on the floor. ‘Take her away. She must be dealt with accordingly.’

The knights approached the Princess but before they could grab her she let out a blood curdling scream that caused everyone’s in their ears to bleed. Everyone groaned in pain as they placed their hands over their heads to shield out the noise. Even as powerful and magical the queen was, even she covered her ears and fell to her knees. When Phoenix realized what was going on, she’d scrambled to her feet, grabbed her dress ran out of the King’s bedroom.

‘That was the last time I’ve ever saw you… That night, the war came and I was taken right with it. I spent the rest of the day looking for you P.'

'As well as the rest of the kingdom.' She scoffed and shrugged her shoulders. She finally turned her head to look at him.

Fredrick sighed heavily and he looked around before he leaned in, 'You just won't let that go now will you?' He said in a whisper. 'You've been gone for 20 years aren't you use to this shit by now?!'

Phoenix's face folded up into a hard scowl as she leaned in as well, 'Let it go? Let it go!? My father was murdered and they pointed their finger on me. And you- you didn't even bother to stick up for me. Knowing how much that wretched bitch hated my soul because I was the true heir. She took that away from me.' she hissed before she took another sip of her water. There wasn't a single moment where she didn't think about that day. Her father. Her legacy. It drove her insane some days. She would go into crying fits and swing her sword at trees to keep herself from killing someone. And some nights she wouldn't even sleep.

The knight took a deep breath and sat back in his seat, looking to the corner of the bar to see the group of his men still chit chatting, 'Well then why won't you go take it back?'

She leaned over, whispering once again, ‘Are you fucking crazy? If anyone hears you mention anything about treason they won’t hesitate to cut you down.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘And I’ve thought about it. But going in there could get me killed.’ Phoenix sat back against her seat once again, looking off to the side.

Fredrick took a deep breath, she was right. The Kingdom that she had grew up in was now formidable and stronger than when her father was King. If anybody had recognized who she was, they would stop at nothing to kill her. ‘So what are you going to do? Continue to live in the shadows?’

‘I’ve been doing it for 20 years. I’m sure I can do it until I’m dead.’

‘That’s no way to live P—‘

‘Well it’s living… nonetheless.’ She raised a brow.

If there’s one thing Fredrick knew about his friend, he knew that she was stubborn. She always thought it was her way, or no way at all. He folded his arms across his chest, as his eyes narrowed at her. ‘You’re surviving… listen Phoenix. You can run and hide all you want. But eventually, you will run out of places. Your past will come bite you in your ass—‘ he stood up from his seat and looked down at her. ‘You are the true heir. Take back your throne. I will back you up in this I promise.’ He reached over in his pouch and pulled out an amulet. It was gold and red with a ram’s head engraved in it, with the name “Delphi” engraved at the bottom. A family heirloom. He looked at it in his large palm for a moment before placing it in front of her.

Phoenix’s eyebrows tugged together with disbelief and shock. She picked it up; admiring it’s beauty. Just as she had remembered. ‘Fredrick I can’t take this. This is yours, — your father’s I can’t—‘

‘I insist. If you ever need help— somehow, someway— I’m always here.’ He gave her a gentle smile before looking at the children once more and then back at her. ‘Take care princess.’ And then he walked back over to his men.

***

The children were sleeping soundly next to the fire, while she sat beneath that very same Oak tree. She continued to study the amulet that he had given her. You are the true heir. I will back you up on this, I promise. She let out a soft sigh before closing her hand, holding it tightly within her grasp. Fredrick was right. Though she was a badass swordsman and handled herself well in pretty sticky situations— she was catching up with age. She was running out of time and places to sleep. And with the way the world was going, it was a surprise she was able to keep her and those children safe.

Phoenix was awakened by a cool breeze. She shivered and rolled over, pulling the skinned buck over her body. Then she’d noticed there was no longer any heat. Her eyes flashed open and she sat up. The firewood glowed bright Orange and smoke rose from it. She placed her hand on the warm wood, and it was moist. Someone had put it out. ‘Chil-‘ she looked up and their little cots were empty. Her heart broke in her chest. ‘Oh Gods.’ She scrambled to her feet and without thinking, ‘NILA!? NOEL?!’ Thank god for the moon, she wouldn’t have known where to begin in the pitch blackness.

She ran around that field in a frenzy, listening for giggles and whispering but nothing. ‘CHILDREN?!?!’ She let out a scream, so loud that it shook the trees and the birds flocked away from them. She put her hands on her head as she felt her stomach begin to twist and turn with sickness. Her world felt like it was spinning, and she threw up. Falling to her hands and knees, she heaved until she emptied all of the contents in her stomach.

When she was unable to throw up anymore, she sat back on her legs and her head fell back. She looked up at the moon as she tried to calm down. Knowing that her being a frantic crying mess, would not help her find those babies. Finally, she heard the sound of paper flapping in the wind. Phoenix looked ahead to see a rock sitting on top of a paper. She felt a shred of hope over come her. Quickly picking herself up, she rushed over to the rock. She’d pushed the rock to the side and picked up the paper. It read:

Princess Phoenix of Kingdom Jedajél,

We are aware of your presence and we have those wee children you love so much. Surrender and Meet us in the village from once you’ve came. The children will not be harmed.

Commander Zacariah Richard the 3rd of Kingdom Jedajél

‘GRRRRR!’ She crushed the paper in her hand and walked back over to their camp and wrapped her holster on her hip, placing her sword in it along with her dagger. As she was adjusting her weapons, she could hear a howl in the wood behind her. The very same woods she had to walk through to get to the village. Her heart sank in fear a bit, but she would stop at nothing to get to her babies. She walked over to a dying tree and picked up a small branch. Using the flint that she had in her pouch, she lit the cloth that was soaked in ale and wrapped around the wood.

She could hear the terrors of the night as she carefully walked through the wood. She followed a path that was specifically made for merchants as the sign had said it would get them to the village faster than the regular trail. So she’d taken that, and bit it would be something she had regret.

Phoenix held the torch in her hand, looking back every once in a while to see if anything was following her. Her travels went unseen or so she had thought, for some time. That was until she heard the sound of twigs snapping and heavy panting. It sounded nothing of a human, it was rugged and hungry. She’d turn around towards the darkness, looking for the source of the sound and nothing. She had thought maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her. She was already emotionally unstable at the moment so maybe it was the lack of sleep and the fear of something happening to the babies getting the best of her.

That was until she came across a wrecked stage coach. She swallowed her spit and crept over to it, where she found one horse still attached to the reins and with its insides torn out. Phoenix had seen plenty over things before, but she had never seen anything such as this. It was a pretty large vehicle, so where’s the other horse?

On a regular day she would have tried to investigate but she was pressed on time. So she quickly turned away to continue on the path when she ran into something large. She stared at its chest, and it was nowhere near human. It’s flesh was gray, and so hairy. A growl rumbled in the beasts chest and it caused Phoenix to look up in fear. The beast looked down at her, shoulders moving up and down gently as it breathe. A werewolf.

She slowly took a step backwards, keeping her eyes on it as it had kept its monstrous yellow eyes on her. That was until she had stepped on a twig. That had seem to piss it off. It released a roar, a roar so frightful that it caused Phoenix to fall back on her rump. She had seem most monsters, but she had always thought this was just a bunch of bullshit. But how sharp and long it’s canines were, this was no fiction tale.

Suddenly the beast begun to charge, she scrambled to her feet; picking up her torch and tried to make a run for it. But the beast managed to swipe her and it sent her flying against a tree, releasing the torch in the process. ‘URRGH!’ She exclaimed as she fell to the ground on her front side. ‘Uhhhhh,’ she groaned in pain as she pulled herself up from the ground. She stood in a bit of a slouch, as her back felt like it had been snapped in half with how hard she hit that tree. ‘Alright—‘ she huffed, and grabbed her silver sword by its handle. ‘That’s how you want to play? Bring it.’ And she pulled out her weapon.

The beast had let out another roar before it charged at her with all fours and as soon as it leaped to attack her, she threw up her left hand and bright, hot flames exuded from her palm. The werewolf whimpered in pain as the flames engulfed its body. It rolled around, howling in pain and whimpering. While it’s walls were down, she crept behind it and stabbed it right in its heart. ‘GAH!’ She exclaimed as she pushed the silver sword so deep within him, it came out through the other side. The beast let out an excruciating howl which caused her to cover her ears and fall to her knees. ‘Ahh!’ She whimpered and looked up at the creature as it took its very last breath.

When she was sure, the beast was dead, she retrieved her sword and weakly, painfully , started back on her journey.

The moon was still high in the sky with no sign of dawn. This had to be the worst night of her fucking life. She limped into the village, with her hand on her hip. She was sure it was dislocated. But the pain had subsided when she heard the cries of Noel & Nila. ‘Mama! Mama!’ They sobbed as the men held them on their shoulders.

Relieved but tiredly, ‘Nika, Noel. I’m so glad you’re safe!’

‘Princess!’

Phoenix’s head snapped over to the tall lean, blonde haired male, who had walked in front of the group of men. He wore almost the same armor that Fredrick wore. ‘I am Commander Zacariah Richard. I hereby ask you to surrender. We have to take you into our custody.’

‘I will not. You let those children go first and then you can do what ever it is that you want to do with me.’

‘You don’t get to call the shots here Princess. You surrender first,’ then he looked back, giving one of the village men a simple nod before they pulled out small blades and pressed them towards their little throats.

‘DON’T YOU DARE LAY ANOTHER FINGER ON THEM!’ There they were again. Her emotions getting the best of her.

The commander smirked, ‘They did say you were fiesty yes.’ He chuckled and glared at her. ‘You have til the count of 5 your highness… or these sweet little Elf children will have their throats ripped out of their necks. 1…2…’

Phoenix tried to quickly come up with a plan, but the look of fear on the children’s face overshadowed all of that. She had put their lives in danger plenty of times before… she couldn’t do this again. ‘3…4…what’s it going to be princess—‘

‘Wait… fine. I surrender.’ She unhooked her holster and dropped it in front of her. The commander had seem to be enjoying this. But the princess wasn’t a fool. She always had something up her sleeve.

The two men who had the children in their grasp had pushed them away and approached her. She smirked deviously when they stood behind her.

The commander’s head fell to the side in confusion, ‘Is there something humorous Princess?’

‘You all don’t know how bad you’ve fucked up.’ She cackled before she opened her palm and it revealed a hidden blade. She had quickly stabbed one in the jugular and the other right in his eye.

The men in the village seem to be startled as well the Commander. His eyes grew in fear and a bit of disgust. ‘RUN!’ She exclaimed to the children and they took off without question.

The Commander looked behind him, ‘AFTER THEM! BRING ME THEIR HEADS!’

The woman quickly scooped up her sword and dagger. She was about to chase them down but Commander Zacariah grabbed her by her hoodie and yanked her back. Accidentally dropping her sword, she raised her dagger, spinner around and cut his face, attempting to slit his throat.

‘ARGH!’ He exclaimed as he stumbled backwards, holding his face. She quickly retrieved her sword as the men begun to surround her. Phoenix watched as he pulled his hand away from his face. She smirked with great pride, ‘You aren’t so pretty anymore now Commander Richard.’ He glared at her with anger, and pulled out his sword, ‘UGGGGHHHHH YOU WHORE!’ He exclaimed and charged at her.

With a simple duck as he swung his heavy sword at her head, she held her leg out and watched him trip over it. And it was like that fueled the men’s anger. It was like they couldn’t stand a woman kicking a man’s ass. So they attacked her. She blocked and parried every attack with the best of her ability. Cutting off heads, slicing open abdomens, and stabbing through anyone that came her way.

Phoenix was covered in blood and it was safe to say that her adrenaline had ran out because now she was starting to feel that pain from the werewolf attack again. ‘Mmm!’ She whimpered and tried to stand up straight.

‘Grrrr!’

She turned around quickly to see Commander Zacariah bringing his sword, getting ready to swing at her. ‘AHHHH!’ He exclaimed in rage. Phoenix put her hands up in defense, as she was too tired to fight any more. But his moment was short lived when a sword pierced through his chest. Blood pooled in his mouth and poured down his lips and then his chin. When the blade was yanked from his chest, he fell to his knees and her eyes followed him.

‘We—‘ he coughed as he placed his hand over his wound. ‘We— will… find you… there’s no—no place you can hide..’ he’d begun to laugh hysterically. And it actually scared her, but his laughing was cut when a sword swung at his neck. The body fell forward limply and his head rolled.

‘Hmm.’

She looked up to see her savior. And when she saw him, her mouth slightly opened. She had only heard tales of these beings. But this particular one, was legendary in his own way. This night would make a great bedtime story for the children.

His hair was white as snow and stringy as if he hadn’t washed it in days. His eyes shined in the darkness, blazing bright gold like the sun. He wore a silver amulet around his neck with a wolf on it. And that only confirmed what he was.

‘Witcher.’ She murmured. It was truly a honor. When she was just a young girl, she admired them. She loved reading and hearing about them. They had inspired her to want to be a swordsman. She didn’t know whether to bow or hug him. ‘Y—you’re the White Wolf! You’re Geralt of Rivia!’

‘And you’re just a woman… a woman whose on wanted posters all over the continent… a woman who also dropped these men like flies…’

She rolled her eyes before she heard the scream of Nika. ‘NIKA!’ She pushed past him and darted towards her children’s screams but Geralt didn’t hesitate to follow her.

She stopped when she saw the twins up in a tree, kicking away away from those horrible village men. She gritted her teeth as she felt her adrenaline pick back up once again. Phoenix took a step forward to attack but Geralt grabbed her wrist and shook his head. He’d given her a reassuring nod and walked over toward the men.

‘Come on leave the children alone.’ His voice was deep yet, soothing.

The two men looked back once they saw him, ‘Oh look. It’s a wee Witcher. The smallest one I’ve ever seen.’

‘Look you mutated cunt,’ one of the men walked up towards him and poked him in his chest, ‘Why don’t you take your brown whore over there and go fuck yourselves.’

The other man chimed in with goofy laughter until Phoenix grew fed up and pulled her dagger out and threw it. Hitting the laughing one right in his forehead. ‘Ah!’ The village man exclaimed as he watched his buddy fall to the ground. Phoenix stood up straight, dusting her arms off as she watched The white Haired Witcher speak with the last remaining man.

‘Pl-please Mr. Witcher sir! I-I was only trying to feed my family! I-I was paid good coin!’ He said as he held his hands together. He was begging.

‘Sell out. But it’s not me you have to worry about —‘ he awaited til Phoenix stood next to him. ‘That’ll be her.’ He jerked his head to the left gently with a soft shrug.

Phoenix’s eyes shown a darkness nobody had ever seen before. Anyone that harmed the ones she loved deserved the most merciless death known to men. And since she only cared for these children, loved, these children— she had nothing else if something happened to them. She grabbed the villager’s shirt and pressed him against that tree. ‘You run. You tell the village about me. You tell any man that comes looking for me that I will be waiting for him. I expect nothing less.’

‘Y—yes. Your majesty!’

She violently let him go. ‘No go. Before I change my mind!’ And the villager took off running.

Geralt’s eyebrows tugged together in confusion and then it finally clicked. Your majesty? She had his curiosity for sure, but now, she had this attention.

Phoenix looked up at the tree as the children carefully peaked down. ‘Come down my loves! I’m here!’ She took a deep breath before she could fell that sharp pain in her hips. She closed her eyes as a wince escaped her lips. She leaned on the tree to take some of the pressure off of her injury.

‘Phoenix?! Who’s that big scary man next to you?!’ Noel asked worrisome. Phoenix had looked back at Geralt as he seem to be lost in thought. ‘He’s a friend. Look, just come on down you too. Danger’s gone. We took care of it.’ She reassured him. ‘They won’t mess with us anymore!’

***

‘GRRRRR! FUCK!’ The woman exclaimed into a cloth as she felt a bunch of pressure then lots of pain when he forced her hip back into place with his hands. Though she was grateful that the pain was gone, she was not ready for the healing pains to begin. She took a deep breath and looked over at the once again, sleeping children. They must’ve been exhausted from the kind of night they had. And now the sky was beginning to glow light blue. ‘Alright—‘ she said as she stood up to her feet, looking down at him. ‘How much coin do I owe you?’ Everything came with a price. She remember from the books that Witcher’s were paid with every contract. Though, this wasn’t the typical contract— she felt obligated. He didn’t have to help her.

‘You owe me nothing.’ He said as he stood up. ‘But I do want answers.’ He folded his arms across his chest.

[pickleforstony]

Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials

[lainiespicewrites]

LainieSpice Masterlist

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

Captain Syverson

Oneshots:

The Christmas Cabin

The Christmas Cabin Part 2

Series:

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

Coach Sy Ch 2

Coach Sy Ch 3

Coach Sy Ch 4

Coach Sy Ch 5

Coach Sy Ch 6

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

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Walter Marshall

Series:

I just want to feel safe

Part 1

Part 2

Henry

Oneshots:

Someone to take her home

A lesson in flirting

Clark

Professor Superman

Dune Part 2 series

The Atreides Era

Part 2