#geralt x reader hurt

[kiritella]

Anyone interested in a Geralt x Reader fic?

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Soul

Summary: When tragedy strikes, Geralt of Rivia seeks comfort in the arms of one woman.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: PG - Abandonment Issues, Child Abandonment, Fluff Parental Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Bathing, Love Confession, Soft!Geralt, Character's Death

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

Geralt rode Roach hard, only deviating from his path to guide the powerful black horse around a tree or rock. He gripped the worn brown reins tightly, feeling them cut into the top of his bare hands as he urged Roach to move faster, foam already starting to gather around his bit. The Witcher's mind raced, desperately trying to push down the power of the news he received from a good friend, while trying to help someone he'd found on the job. He struggled for a few days, trying to push it down, telling himself it didn't hurt.

She had left him almost a century ago, at this point.

Witchers had no emotions, he told himself, as a means to drive them back. It didn't work however, the emotions continued to smash into him.

So, he left in the dead of night, not a word to Anika, Otto, or even Jaskier, of where he was going or why. Though, he was sure Anika would know why. Geralt covered almost a whole league by the end of morning, cutting through the forest outside of Murivel, until he reached a modest clearing and an even more modest, three-room hut constructed in the middle of it, a stone and clay well on the left side, the bucket swaying softly in the breeze.

Roach came to a hard stop, hooves cutting deep grooves in the grassy earth, with Geralt wasting no time in dismounting the stallion and stomping across the yard to the front door. His sore and broken heart rose up with hope that it would swing open and the face of the one he was seeking would appear, to greet him. But, the door didn't open to him, instead he was greeted another way.

“Geralt!” A soft and confused voice called out.

He swung around on his boot heels, his golden eyes zeroing in on you as you stood just passed the tree-line, a basket of herbs and mushrooms balanced on your hip, as you regarded the Witcher. You hadn't seen Geralt in over a year, since he decided he needed to go to Cintra to make sure Ciri was safe from the sea of black and gold he'd seen on the Amell Pass. After the Dragon Hunt. You had heard the thunder of the new Roach's hooves coming up the path to your home, while you were gathering in the forest, and came to see who it was. You were surprised to see Geralt in general, but you were worried by how rushed he seemed.

“Geralt, what's amiss?” You asked, coming to close the gap between you. “Are you well?” You inquired, seeing the unusually deep crease between his brow and across his forehead, and how his complexion was paler, almost matching his hair.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together for a moment, working up the strength to speak. “I need you.” He finally rasped, his expression breaking into something soft and vulnerable.

“You rode all the way from wherever, just for time with me?” You smirked, tisking.

“Please.” Geralt replied, reaching out to grasp your free hand and squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his expression breaking even more.

You frowned at him, all jest dying inside of you, seeing his wall fall before you and the pain he was being crushed underneath. “Let's go inside.” You whispered softly, tilting your head towards your door.

Nodding, Geralt reached out for your basket, but shaking your head and swatting it away gently, you pushed the front door open and put your hand on his arm, guiding him inside. You set your basket on a large table and turned towards the just as large fireplace, grabbing wood from the dog grate and tossed it in. Building it back up, sparks flying up the chimney. You moved to Geralt, who stood motionless beside the table, taking his hand and guided him over to the chair at the head of the table, gently coaxing him to sit down, then knelt before him. Grabbing the heel of his boot and his calf, you tugged the muddy, black leather off and set it underneath the table, followed by its twin. There was dust and mud covering his black clothing. You brushed your palm over his knee and thigh, casting some of it off, before standing up again and starting for the next room, only to have Geralt grasp your wrist and pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face into your chest, and breathed deep.

You frowned at him, sympathetically brushing your fingers through his hair and pulling it free of its usual tie, his white strands cascading over his shoulders. You nosed the top of his head, caressing the back of his hair and squeezing his bicep, still confused as to why he was there and what was ailing him so much.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his strands. “Tell me, what's happened?” You asked, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “Did you not make it to Ciri in time? Has something happened to her or Jaskier?” You inquired, licking your lips as your heart thundered against his forehead. “I noticed that isn't the Roach you had the last time you were here.” You pointed out, remembering the sweet Chestnut you used to feed and brush, when Geralt stayed with you, but now there was a sturdy black stallion standing in your dooryard.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, they're both fine.” He rasped, turning his head to rest his temple against your collarbone. “As for the last Roach, she was killed by a Chernobog, a few months ago.” He added, softly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Then, what's the matter with my Wolf?”

He was still and quiet again, for a long time, his fingers restlessly toying with the strings at the back of your bodice, before suddenly standing with you still in his arms, and turning to sit you on the chair in his place. He went out the door, rounding the house to the well and dropped the bucket to the bottom. You watched Geralt come back inside with each bucket, holding it in one hand, like it was the weight of one of his swords. Pausing in the open doorway and giving you a hard stare every time, as if he expected to find you moved off the chair or vanished completely. Only then, did he go to your large cauldron, dumping the full bucket in and returning back outside for another.

“Are you going to tell me, what's the matter, Geralt?” You asked, your concern only mounting with his bizarre behavior and irregular moodiness.

“Nothing.” He grunted harshly, setting the cauldron over the fire to boil.

“That's a lie.” You answered, just as sharply, being one of the few people on the Continent brave enough to talk back to the White Wolf in such a manner; other than Jaskier and Ciri. “You wouldn't have come from the bum fuck of Nilfgaard to see me, if something wasn't bothering you.” You insisted, glaring at his back.

Geralt ignored you, heading towards the back rooms of your home and leaving you more worried and annoyed at his behavior. He came back a few minutes later with no shirt on, and your suspicions on his task were answered. Despite what the people of the great Continent thought of Geralt of Rivia, he did not in fact like smelling of death, blood and horse. When he stopped for the winter at Kaer Morhen or with you, he bathed regularly. He just found it more a nuisance to do so while on the Trail, since the next Contract or sleeping rough would only dirty him up again.

Pulling the roiling cauldron off the fire, Geralt carried it to the large, soaking tub you boosted in your bathroom. He filled it almost to the brim, before adding in Lavender and Sage bath salts to the steaming water. A fragrant haze filled the room as he tugged his pants off and tossed them over a chair in the corner. He strode out of the bathroom, returning to you, still sitting where he'd left you. He took your hand and helped you stand, untying the strings of your bodice and tugging down your dress, so it pooled around your feet, before slipping his arm under your knees and an arm around your shoulders, scooping you up against his chest.

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he carried you to the bathroom. “I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, as he stepped into the tub, lowering you both into it.

“And I, you.” Geralt replied, holding you in his lap and resting back. “Ciri and Jaskier are well, by the way.” He said, his fingertips stroking the skin of your side, beneath the water. “Ciri is being watched over by Yennefer, who's helping her try and control her magic and Jaskier was with Anika, last I left him.”

“Anika?” You frowned, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Why is Julian with Anika? If he's well.”

Geralt's thick, scarred arms squeezed around you, almost painfully, making you squirm in his lap. “You remember my mother.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Visenna.” He said so quietly, you had to strain to hear it.

“Yes, I recall you telling me of her, a few years after we met.” You murmured, seeing the strained expression on his face. “And that you'd seen her at Sodden Hill. She healed you, after the ghoul bite.”

“I remember bits of my life with my Ma.” He rasped, his grasp on you loosening, but he still held you close to him. “She smelled like embers, from keeping our measly fires alive during the long nights.” He told you, the crease between his golden eyes slowly vanishing as he went back to that time, tapping into that abandoned little boy, he had never grown out of, but skillfully concealed from those he didn't cherish. “We were quite poor, even though she was skilled as a healer. So, she-” He paused, his voice thickening and his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You looked up at him, seeing the redness in the whites of his eyes and the unshed tears threatening on his lashes. It frightened you to see the Witcher like this. In the fifteen years you'd known him, you'd seen him in many states, but you had never seen Geralt cry. Reaching up, you cupped his scruffy cheek in your hand and thumbed a droplet away, pressing your lips to his jawline.

“She would use her magic to create the most elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.” He continued, tilting his head into your hand. “There was—I would have done anything to make her smile. And yet,” He voice broke again, this time with more than just hurt and abandonment, but with resentment. “The day she left me, she was sick. She needed some water, so I went to get her some, and when I came back to the road...she was gone.” He croaked, pushing his jaw forward and shaking his head, trying to deny the burn of more tears.

His fingertips pressed into the skin of your side and back. “I called for her.” He said weakly, his golden eyes off in the distance. “But she was gone.” He whimpered, the tears finally winning out, dripping off his jaw and into your hair and the bath water.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his neck and hugging your arms around his torso. You had known Visenna had abandoned Geralt. He had told you that bluntly not long after you had met. The torture of her leaving him there, to be taken away to Kaer Morhen, where he'd suffered such agony in his transformation into a Witcher, at just five years old, coupled with the pain he never got over with his mother.

You wondered how Geralt had survived at all.

But no, Geralt was strong, even from a young age.

“She's dead.”

You pulled out of your thoughts, shocked. “She's dead?”

“She was giving aid to some villager and was mistaken as an Elf.” Geralt told you, bringing a hand out of the water to wipe it over his face. “They beat her severely and she later died, at the Temple of Mourning, where Anika was. Which is how I found out.”

“I'm so sorry, Geralt.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, connecting the dots to his arrival. “I hope the two of you were able to make some sort of easement between you, when you last met.”

Geralt pressed his lips together and buried his face into your hair, his throat too tight to speak in the moment. He considered how he and Visenna last met, in the forest outside of Sodden Hill, as he laid feverish and hallucinating from a Ghoul bite to the leg. After saving a poor Merchant, who was trying to bury the dead from a camp Nilfgaard had attacked. At first, she had tried to conceal her identity from him, pretending to be Renfri, Yennefer and finally, you, before he managed to discover who it really was. Triggered by her belief that, People linked by Destiny, will always find each other.

He asked her what she thought of his eyes. Demanding to know, if she knew what they did to improve a Witcher's eyes. Telling her that it didn't always work. She had begged him to stop. Calling him by his name, only for Geralt to reject her right to do so, like she had rejected him. He had begged to know if she knew how many boys actually made it through the Trials. Tears filled both of their eyes as they stared at each other in the darkness.

In the end, his Ma had left him, again, fading into the night, trying to convince him she was just a dream and he would never get the answer he wanted.

So, had he made peace with his mother abandoning him, forcing him on the Path of the Witcher?

No. Geralt decided in the end, he had not.

The only thing Geralt did know was he wanted you. You were the first person he had thought of, upon finding out about his mother's death. Wanting to feel you against him and needing the comfort only you were able to provide. You shifted out of Geralt's lap, moving around him, while reaching over the side of the tub, grabbing the small cup that sat on the foot board there. Dipping it into the water and gently pouring it over Geralt's silvery-white strands, you set aside and took up a round, solid bar of honey and chamomile scented soap, using it to work his hair into a rich lather. Geralt moaned, feeling your fingers massage his scalp, resting forward to prop his elbows on his bent knees, eyes falling shut.

“I love you.” He murmured, quietly.

You stopped, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “You've never said that before.” You said, looking around at him, mouth softly agape.

“No?” Geralt rasped, cocking a brow over his shoulder at you.

“Not once, in all these years.” You assured him, your hand gently massaging the scarred muscle of his neck.

He turned to you, causing the cooling water to slosh over the edge. “Then, I have a great deal of making up to do.” He cooed, reaching out to cup your face in his rough palm. “Because I do. I love you. Out of everyone, besides perhaps Jaskier and Vesemir, you know me better than anyone, and no one has ever taken better care of me than you have.” He told you, his face betraying the emotions a Witcher truly had, but guarded for their most treasured person, and not those of an abandoned child, rather those of a man in love.

“I love you too, Geralt.” You assured him, turning your head to kiss his hand. “And I will always care for you, me bleidd.” You whispered, picking up the cup to continue washing his hair.

[cosmos-coma]

Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

__________________________________

“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh. 

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

 “Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it. 

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away. 

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body. 

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again. 

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.” 

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation. 

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze. 

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you. 

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run. 

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.” 

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet. 

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything. 

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were.  “Hey, Geralt? I love you…” 

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

[thewritersaddictions]

Requests: The Witcher: Geralt of Rivia- Spellbound

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader & Ciri x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Pov: Geralt Of Rivia/ Ciri

Warnings: Mages, magic, fighting, Kaer Morhen, Angst, Fluff, memorial statues, death/revival, female witcher!Reader, falling back into love, happy family vibes.

Summary: The only female witcher is frozen in time at Kaer Morhen, but when Geralt brings Ciri there, something magical and extraordinary happens. Reuniting two past lovers.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers; this is a request.

WC- 2.4k

Requests Master List // The Witcher Master List // The Heros Master List

The first and last female witcher statue stands in the middle of Kaer Morhen. It’s a daily reminder of my failure to protect her and that I must try to be better for her sake. Vesmir had been a helping hand when I lost her. He was the only father figure I had, and I was more than grateful when he chose to have the stone figure of her placed in Kaer Morhen. It was a reminder of how little there were of Witchers like us, but also that love was forever. 

It just stung too much, and I needed to leave Kaer Morhen. Spring was starting a new, and with that, paths and plans were already ready to be brought to action. I packed my little things and took Roach back on the dirty trails that were now not covered in inches of snow. Yet, this path led to a world I’d instead have never been a part of. A law of surprise that leads to a child. A child born to be the princess of Cintra. 

Many more happened before I knew the law of surprise would put her and me on the same path. I’m more than surprised when it leads me straight to her. In an effort to firstly protect the princess and secondly help her because the duty has sadly fallen to me due to the war. I bring her to Kaer Morhen. I get her there to learn and to be supported by Vesmir; then again, I’m reminded of a promise that I must protect Ciri in every possible way, as I couldn’t do so for Y/n. 

Y/n statue stares at me. Her frozen, hurt face, I can hear the echo of screams and how quickly they were cut off before I could make it to the fight. Her beauty hasn’t left her face. A smile that is in the back of my head, but her voice. That beautiful voice. The only thing that could lull me to sleep and keep my spirits high was fading ever so quickly in my mind. All I had left of her were the memories and the statue. Her dress flew in the wind as she was frozen head to toe. 

It had been a mage, an unhappy mage, that had followed us to the mountainside. I remember it now being about me. The memorial was about many things. Y/n had been the only female witcher, so for one, it was a remembrance of that fact alone. Y/n had also said that if she ever died, in battle or at home, she would love to be able to gaze at the morning sunrise and sunset setting. 

I hadn’t realized how long it had been until I arrived at Kear Morhen. Years had passed, and I had gained the child princess and a few friends in those years. Yet even with the people around me, there was still an ache in my chest, so looking at her frozen staring with that scared expression only caused the hurt to grow. 

I introduced Ciri to everyone. Vesmir understood that this was a unique matter at hand. He helped me in any way I needed. I wake Ciri every morning before the morning rose above the mountain tops. “Come, let’s go practice.” At first, it was with swords and then with combat. And every day, Y/n watched us, unmoving and silent. Every day, like clockwork, Ciri would get distracted as she wandered off the battle arena and towards Y/n’s statue. “Who is this?” There was a tiny plaque at the bottom of her lonely statute—Y/n’s name written in a language known to only a few witchers, one of which was Y/n. 

On the plaque, it reads: 

Y/n, L/n 

The First and Only Female Witcher 

We miss you. 

“Someone important,” I tell Ciri, and that’s where I leave it, but I feel I should know better. Ciri will go on an adventure to figure it out herself, regardless of what I want her to know about it. “Let’s return to practice before you get distracted even further,” I tell Ciri, and she follows me obediently, but there is something, and I can feel it as if Ciri is drawn to Y/n. 

–

Geralt doesn’t talk much about his past, and I know he’s got secrets he’s unwilling to share with me right now. There is just something about that statute. I can’t read the plaque below it, yet I do not care. There is a beauty around her, so everyone had to go to bed to rest every night after I sneak out of the room and walk down to the statue. 

I sneak out to talk to her. Unlike Geralt, she couldn’t give me a look of not understanding or dismissing me when he’d heard enough about my thoughts. I just want and need someone to understand me. I would walk out and talk to her for nights in a row. About anything and everything. How training was going, how much I missed my grandmother, the war, and the magic I felt pumping through my veins. Anything that scared me I talked to her about. 

One night, I thought I got caught. I had snuck out after a late dinner. Geralt had said I needed to do more training than when we first arrived here, yet we had already been here for ages. His words and his calm demeanor pissed me off. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” I yelled at Geralt. I was standing up from the table. The chair slid and scratched the floor in the process. “I never said that,” Geralt said calmly. “Yet you never say I’m doing good; you just grunt and walk away. You don’t even talk to me about anything. Everything is a damn secret, I just want to understand, yet that was the most difficult thing here.” I screamed before stomping to my room, leaving half-uneaten food on my plate. The sound of echoing feet happened hours later, and when I peeked my head out of the room, there was nobody in the living space. 

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t talk about things. I just want him to teach me and not just grunt at me and then tell me to repeat what I was just doing.” I fuss at the beautiful statue. She’s cleaned every day, and she almost looks real. If I just climbed up and touched her, she would come to life before me. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not cut out for this stuff,” I mumble as I look down at the ground before me. I must be too into my thoughts because I don’t hear when Vesmir comes behind me. 

“I see you’re out here talking to our beautiful Y/n.” Vesmir said, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Vesmir.” I said, grabbing onto my chest and holding my fast-beating heart. “Wait, did you just say her name?” I asked, whipping around and asking Vesmir. He smiles down gently at me. “Of course, this is the only female witcher ever. She was the best of the best and a loving woman.” Vesmir adds before stepping further next to me. “I’m assuming from your reaction that Geralt hasn’t told you of the story about our dead Y/n.” I shake my head, “Hmm, I wonder, I must tell you now.” 

“So the story goes as follows. Y/n, the only female witcher, was with Geralt. God, they were in love with each other. They thought a hell of a lot of monsters together, but of course, a love story must always have a villain to it. There was a mage, according to Geralt. That had not taken his various forms of saying no to heart.  The mage had dragged Y/n into the fight that unfortunately put her in this frozen state.” Vesmir says, and as he continues to talk, he looks fondly at her.  

“So Geralt and her were together; no wonder he’s so tightlipped about her. He wouldn’t even tell me her name.” I say sadly, looking back up at her. “She is beautiful.” I say in a low, sadden voice, “Y/n is beautiful, I bet she was a great listener.” I say I hear a chuckle from behind “I wish I could have met her.” I say out loud, clearly. My hand sits on the stone base of her boot. “I figure she would have loved to have met you. You are much like her Ciri.” Vesmir adds. 

Just then there’s this moment of consuming silence. My hand still wrapped around her boot. “Ciri?” I hear Vesmir behind me. “What are you doing?” He asks, there’s shock in his voice, and a bit of terror. “I don’t… what are you talking about?” I ask looking up from the gravel beneath my feet. 

Her statue is lite up with a light blue hue. “I wasn’t… I was just holding her foot that was all I promise you.” The blue hue grows with strength until finally it echos into the sky, streaming onto every single surface it can touch. 

– 

I can sleep here, regardless of the anger that Ciri is pushing towards me. I can only ever sleep here at Kaer Morhen. It brings the past memeoties to the brim of my mind. Y/n fliters through my thoughts. Her voice echoing through my head, the sound of her laugh, the spring scent that followed her around. She was nothing like a witcher, her emotions open and willing to be connected with someone else. I ache in the best and worst ways for her. Yet I don;t dare tell Ciri about her. I can see it now, if Y/n was around she’d just love Ciri. Y/n would be so happy to be acting like her mother. As much as Y/n understood that she was the only female witcher, she also wished to be normal. She wished that she could have kids. It was a sad conversation that the both of us had to have. 

My eyes open with haste. A blue bright light pulling me from my dreams of my perfect family. There’s this searing blue light that is filtering through the walls of Kaer Morhen, and my thought flutter over to Ciri. I hope Ciri is alright. I jump up from the uncomfortable bed. I run through the halls, Ciri’s door is left open. Panic starts to set into my bones. I run around the others coming out of there rooms. The blue hue is fading away, and for a moment I swear I can hear Y/n’s voice. I push that away from my thoughts, as I frantly look for Ciri. I find that the front door is open wide, and when I look out there’s nothing but crumble stone all over the ground. 

“Geralt?” I hear Vesmir say. I look up front he ground swallow hard, bearing for the worst. Instead it’s not the worst. “I need you to believe what I’m about to say.” He says steadily. “Vesmir what are you talking about?” “Just let me finish alright, Ciri has awoken Y/n.” I stand there, my heart beats and my jaw leaps down to the ground in shock. We had tried everything, spells, magic, ruins to fix her condition. “Geralt?” A sweet voice calls from the dust before it all clears. 

There she is, standing in all of her glory. Grey hair that flows in the night wind. Y/n hasn’t aged a single day in the many years that she’s been frozen in her stone state. My hands shake my heart beats so fast I can hear it in my ears. I’ve never fetl a source of panic and relief all in one little moment. “Is that really you?” My voice is shattered and my heart feels as if it’s been broken and put back together all over again. “Oh my dear Geralt. I think you and I both know that it’s me.” Y/n says as her eyes flicker over tot heston slab we put her on, and then to Ciri. My eyes widden with shock. Y/n is most defintly not up there anymore, and the expression on Ciri’s face is easy to read. “Let’s take this inside, is that alright Vesmir?” Y/n asksher voice floating into my ears. It calms my racing heart. 

The walk inside is odd, and perfect all at the same time. We all sit at the same table that Ciri had just recently yelled at me. “Who may this be, Geralt?” She asks me, and it pulls me away from just staring at her. I use to stare at her all the time. Her beauty was always hard to not get distracted by. “This is um… this is Ciri.” I introduce her to Y/n. Y/n smiles sweetly over at her. “It’s a pleasure to met the person who fixed my rather unforotunate situation.” I forget how eloquent Y/n spoke most of the time. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Ciri speaks for the first time. “I told Ciri about what happened. Maybe that has something to do with this miracle.” Vesmir says looking over at me. I want to be anger with him and Ciri but the soft, and gentle hand that settles on my arm brings me back to earth. I can’t dare to be mad at either of them.

“I think we should thank them Geralt. As for without their efforts I would not have come back to you.” Y/n says looking over at me. I nod simply. “Thank you for bringing her back to me, Ciri. I owe you a lot more now.” Ciri looks at me notching her head to the side. “Geralt you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to know moe about Y/n.” Ciri says look at he pair of us. “I would love to tell you more about me in the morning I’m rather tired.” Y/n says it like there’s nothing wrong with that fact. “Will you take me to bed, Geralt?” Y/n asks me, her grasps holding me tight. I shake my head not able to talk just yet. “I missed you.” Y/n says as we walk towards the room we used to share. 

Completed on: 08/27/23

Posted on: 08/28/23

The Heros-

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Nothing Without You - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

Soulmate AU!! But basically just hurt/comfort with a bit of soulmate au to spice things up lmao, hurt/comfort, angst, x female or female identifying reader (for plot, but they use they/them pronouns if any are used at all)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Injury, injured reader, blood, canon violence. Not proofread.

Summary: Soulmate AU where your eyes are the colour of your soulmate's; except it's just a bit different for witchers and theirs.

Before Geralt had become a witcher, he remembered the colour of his soulmate's eyes; of his. A striking shade of green - greener than all the leaves in the spring.

I remembered the colour of my eyes: of my soulmate's. They had been a warm brown; the warmest shade of brown I had ever seen. Warmer than all the reds and yellows and oranges of the autumn, and browner than the darkest of chocolates, but when the sun shone on them, they held the most beautiful of golden sunsets; But shortly before my 10th birthday, I awoke with striking yellow eyes. My parents were shocked. My mother demanded to throw me out, to be rid of the witcher child. My father had gone as far as to leave her, taking me with him. He was killed when I was fifteen; by angry townspeople who thought he had to die for protecting me and loving me unconditionally. I was a monster to them.

And so that was what I became.

I traveled, living the way of a witcher and hunting creatures for coin. It was not the life I would have expected or, in all honesty, would have wanted for myself, but it was the life I now lived. I did not blame my soulmate, but sometimes I wondered if I would ever meet the person who had damned me to this way of life.

It was that path that had been the easiest to take. People believed witchers could not have soulmates, that the bonds were broken when they had gone through the trials. Those like me often took to the roads, in search of their witcher soulmate; Once you met them, your eyes would turn their true colour. It was almost impossible to find them, since the eyes of the witchers did not take the colour of their soulmate's. It was completely up to chance whether you met them or not. Very few were lucky enough, but to them it was the only chance at a normal life.

I had taken the route of no return, simply going along with the facade. There were certain perks to the job, the air of fearful respect from the villagers and getting to travel the lands, none of which I would have had as a normal woman back in my village. All because of my eyes.

I gazed at myself in the dusty mirror of the tavern, took in my tattered state and the slight darkened look around the edges of my golden eyes. I had grown accustomed to them, growing to love the colour of my soulmate's eyes as much as I could, given what grief they had forsaken upon me. Living the life of a witcher made me come to have all the more respect for them, whoever they may be.

I sighed, straightening up and shrugging my cloak on, as I prepared to continue tracking the beast I had come here for. It was a vile creature, living mostly in the forests, disguising itself as a fallen tree to the average passerby. It had begun to pick people off at first, just the average villager; but the beast fed off of magical energy, and edged ever closer to the village, searching for a food source. It was soon preying on healers and small-time magicians, people with magical powers. It had even been said to fell a witcher. It grew ever more powerful as they sent sorcerers one after the other, each failing to return as it consumed their magical energy. Soon it wasn't even bothering with the average townsfolk anymore; it was well fed.

I was quite confident with my abilities to slay the creature; I did not possess any sort of magic, so therefore it would regard me as an average villager, hopefully not even bothering with me, I thought as I slung my sword over my shoulder and clipped my sheathed axe to my hip. Unless my witcher eyes counted.

"'It's not very far.'" I muttered to myself, pausing to lean against a tree and catch my breath. I had been told to keep an eye out for a cabin. Among the old, rotten firewood behind it was where the beast supposedly hid. It would be easy to tell from the others, it would have no moss growing and attaching it to the ground like the others. It simply wouldn't have been there long enough for that. I'd find it, chop its wooden heart out, and collect my coin, easy-

My head jerked up when I heard a creaking sound, swinging back and forth, trying to see what it was. I saw nothing, no movement at all, but the sound was unmistakably loud.

I stumbled back as a fallen log to the right of me rose up. Its hollow eyes staring right into my soul. I watched as it grew taller and taller, stretching its branches and limbs out and shaking dirt and leaf litter off of itself.

"Fuck." I guess my eyes did count.

I jumped back, barely dodging its first swing. It swung another branch at me, this time catching me. I managed to duck away from the large branch, but the smaller branches and twigs whipped against my bare forearms, covering them in small cuts. I hissed, pulling my axe out of its sheath.

The next time it slashed at me, I swung the axe in a huge arc. The unbelievably sharp blade sliced through several smaller branches with ease. A horrible screech split through the air, causing me to cover my ears. I scrambled back when it reached for me again, turning and running for the edge of the clearing, just out of its reach. I watched from a safe distance as the beast grabbed for me, growling and crackling in frustration before suddenly stilling, standing upright like a normal tree. Did it think I was that stupid?

A deafening cracking sound echoed throughout the woods, but the 'tree' did not move. It was followed by a rumble, and the ground tremored. I watched in horror as it ripped its roots from the ground, the dirt falling from them. It stomped over in my direction, and a surge of panic went through me.

I dove for the cover of the brush. Just before I made it, a branch wrapped around my ankle, sharply jerking me back into the clearing, hard. I cried out, my ankle audibly snapping. I struggled against it, to no avail. It suddenly let go of me, and I scrambled back for the bushes once again; And once again, it grabbed me and harshly dragged me back. A strangled cry escaped my throat. I felt the bones in my ankle shifting and floating around. If it hadn’t been broken before, it definitely was now.

The tree creature whipped me up off of the ground and slung my body through the air as if I were a rag doll. My body came into contact with the ground with a thud, muted by the layers and layers of leaf litter on the forest floor. If it weren’t for the half-rotten log hidden beneath, it would have been an otherwise cushioned landing; but of course, I wasn’t that lucky. My head whipped forward and hit the side of the log. I tumbled over the log, continuing to rollI several feet through the mud and brush before I stopped. My head pounded, and my vision blurred dangerously. I closed my eyes to blink in an attempt to clear my vision, but I was unable to open them again.

I tossed my head side to side, straining my arms against the branches that held them down. I opened my eyes, lifting my head to see what restrained me. The thick branches continued to wind around my wrists and ankles, and an even larger one emerged from the ground and began to coil around my middle. I continued to struggle weakly against the monster’s ‘arms’ as they sapped my energy relentlessly. My breath hitched in my throat when the branch around my broken ankle suddenly constricted it, causing the fragmented bones to shift.

An axe suddenly sliced into one of the limbs restraining me, missing my hand by less than a centimeter. It chopped into the rest of them, freeing me from the monster’s clutches with a horrible scream that echoed around the clearing. I rolled onto my side, pushing myself onto my hands and knees. Ignoring the way my head spun, I staggered to my feet. I stumbled over to my own hatchet while the beast was distracted with the white-haired man. I fell back onto all fours as I reached down to grab it, wasting precious time to stumble back onto my feet. The man was fighting against the tree still, his eyes unable to meet mine. He grunted when it brought up a large limb to meet his axe, ripping it away when the blade became stuck in the wood.

I suddenly rushed up to the tree, its heart hollow exposed, and sank the blade of my small hatchet into its heart. I stood slowly, swaying on my feet. My yellow gaze darted up to meet his, and I could have swore I saw his own golden eyes flicker a shade of the warmest brown I had ever seen, before I slumped to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The worn bed frame creaked and groaned beneath my weight as I shifted onto my side with a low whine. My head throbbed painfully when I lifted it. The room was old and abandoned, and cobwebs and dust clung to every crevice. I blinked in confusion. How did I get here?

I propped myself onto my elbows, before forcing myself into a sitting position. I ignored the fatigue pulling at my limbs and the pounding in my head, glancing around. Panic began to set in as I came to my senses and realized I had no idea where I was.

Heavy footsteps suddenly sounded from behind the closed door, and I was immediately on defense.

"You're safe here." The man from earlier reassured me, shutting the door behind him. I eyed him warily, though a strange, reluctant sense of calm washed over me with his presence.

"Who are you?"

"Lie back down." I didn't budge, and he huffed in frustration. "Lie down and I'll tell you."

"I'm fine." I argued stubbornly.

"I know you're in pain. Lie down." He demanded, pressing a large hand to my chest. I obliged without complaint this time. My body immediately relaxed into the bed, all my muscles and nerves finally quieting their screams of protest. I watched him curiously as sat on the bedside. I uncomfortably shifted over to put some distance between us.

"Geralt of Rivia." He introduced himself. "You’re not a witcher.” His voice rumbled as his eyes searched mine curiously.

“Oh here we go again with all this sexist bullshit about how women can’t be witchers-” I grumbled.

“Your eyes aren’t gold.” He said matter-of-factly. “They’re green.”

“What?” I asked him, dumbfounded. I began to struggle back into a sitting position, the sudden need to find some sort of reflective surface too much to bear.

“Stay.” He grunted. He dug into a backpack sat by the wall, retrieving a flask and handing it to me. I brought it up to my face, staring at my reflection in shock. My eyes were no longer the striking yellow I had grown so used to. They were now an almost equally stunning green. The unfamiliar eyes gazed back at me.

“I’m your soulmate.” My eyes darted up to his face.

“No, there’s no way-”

“Your eyes were golden when I found you in the woods. They’re not now.” He said simply. I suddenly recalled his eyes flickering brown as I met his gaze before I passed out.

“Your eyes are brown..” My voice trailed off.

“So that’s what they were.”

“I remember, your eyes were such a pretty shade of brown. Then they turned yellow when I was eleven or so, I think.”

“The trials.”

“The witcher trials?” He simply nodded. My eyes wandered unseeingly. I was completely lost in my thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

“For what?”

“I imagine it couldn’t have been easy for you. Not if you’ve taken up the life of a witcher.”

I shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled at some injury on my shoulder I didn't even know I had. "It was the easiest thing to do."

"Was it?"

"I guess so." I hesitated. "I don't know. I just went where the fates took me."

"It's a curse."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

"I never thought I'd find you, you know? What were the chances?" I admitted, glancing back at him.

"Very slim." He agreed.

"You're free to live a normal life now." He said after a moment.

"Do you really think I'd want to? After everything I've experienced?"

"If I were still in my village, I'd already be popping out kids as a housewife," I continued. "But because of this whole thing–because of you– I've been able to do all this. Hell, I'm known as the one and only badass female witcher, I've convinced people of the supposedly impossible; I'm not giving up that title."

"So that was you." He mused. "What are you going to do now, then?"

It suddenly hit me that I no longer had the one thing that allowed me to get this far: my golden eyes. I could put on my act all I wanted to, but that couldn't save me from the fact that I was now a fraud.

"I…I don't know." I admitted quietly. "I'm nothing now."

"I can't just go back to normal, Geralt. I can't, I'd kill myself out of boredom."

"Come with me." He offered suddenly.

"What?"

"Travel with me. You're more than capable, if you've managed to convince people you're a witcher."

"But I'm not anymore." I argued. "I'm a fraud. A phony. I’d just drag you down further." He snorted at that.

"That doesn't matter."

"You don't seem like the type to make that offer. I thought you'd prefer to be alone."

"I do, but I can make an exception for my soulmate."

[rosemary-morgan]

Geralt of Rivia X F.Reader - Fear (Part 2)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Summary: After he finds you, everything seems clear. He just has to bring you back to Edmont and collect the money. But you are stubborn as hell and Geralt's patience reaches its limits...

(OC Edmont Dorian)

I’m sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language.

Read Part 1 here 👈

Warning: angst

Fear (Part 2)

The watchful eyes of the Witcher were gliding over the fields of Vermentino. The grapes were bursting with beauty and one could already see that the workers in the field were in the process of filling large baskets with them. A dark cloak covered the face of the white wolf, and partly his swords, which he carried on his back. Humans, elves, and even dwarves frowned at the sight of the white wolf. Usually it was not a good sign when a witcher appeared in a place. The humble estate on Vermentino was to be his final destination. At least that's what Geralt hoped. He brought Roach to a stop and dismounted from his saddle before making his way to the house's terrace. His golden eyes examined the artwork that was set outside to dry. The witcher had to admit that the paintings were very beautiful. Geralt knocked at the door and shortly after, the door was opened and the white wolf was greeted by an elderly lady. "How can I help you?" Geralt eyed the woman, immediately realizing that she could not be his target. Too old and already graying. "The artist who made these paintings. I need to speak to her." The elderly lady thought that the strange man was one of Y/N clients, not even considering that he was here for entirely different reasons. "Y/N!" She left the door open as she went back into the house to fetch Y/N. Geralt sighed soundlessly, barely noticeably shaking his head. The older lady was probably unaware of the dangers of this world. She did not know his intentions, yet she was willing to comply with his request. With a motionless expression, the witcher kept his eyes on the door, his ears pricked. He did not know how the young woman would react to him and he had to expect anything. A moment later, the young woman came through the door and the witcher's eyes narrowed. Geralt's golden eyes moved up and down, taking in the sight of her briefly,  before returning to look into her face. She was lovely and beautiful. Too young for the count...

"I would like to exchange a few words with you", Geralt finally started, "About you. You have not been here for long, you came from the north?" He kept a close eye on her body language. He wanted to make sure she was the right woman before kidnapping her in front of everyone. Y/N saw the golden eyes flashing from under his cape. Immediately she was aware that a witcher was standing in front of her. She instantly became nervous, knowing what he wanted from her. At first, the young woman tried to keep calm and not let on. "I came here a few weeks ago. So?" The young woman was not stupid and if she really had to run away again, she could not let on. She was aware that her husband would have sent for a witcher to bring her back, since no one else had managed it before. And Y/N had heard many stories about witchers. That they were particularly cruel and neither felt pity nor had mercy. From his pants pocket, the witcher pulled out a now dingy note that Edmont had given him. "A few months ago you were in Oxenfurd, disappearing overnight after a mysterious accident with a troop of strange mercenaries, without even paying the innkeeper." The next note fell at her feet. "You were looking for company to get through the mountains. In the direction of Riva. After you left with 2 peasants, you supposedly came back completely distraught, and alone. In the middle of a storm. Unharmed." The witcher looked up from the notes to her again. His golden eyes moved over her expression. He could see it quite clearly. She was growing paler and he could literally smell her fear. Her body shook with fear. She was the woman he had been looking for. Without a doubt. Slowly he stepped closer to her until he was standing half a meter in front of her, looking down at her. "And let's not forget the scar on Count Edmont's face!" Smoothly, the monster hunter took another step back, stuffing the remaining notes back into his pocket before looking at her again. "Dear Countess! Your husband is already looking everywhere for you!" "I don't know what you're talking about, master witcher! That's nonsense!" But Geralt did not believe a word the young woman said. She was the woman he had been looking for. Without a doubt. A mocking smile graced his lips as he took another step in her direction. He held out his hand to her. "Don't make me take you back to your husband in chains!" Instantly, Y/N backed away from the witcher and he could see there was clearly fear in her eyes. She shook her head. "No. I am not the woman you seek, Witcher!" But her body language had betrayed her and she could not get out of this affair. "It will do you no good to deny it!" But countless thoughts were playing in Y/N's mind. Why hadn't she finished it? Why hadn't she killed Edmont? Then she wouldn't be constantly on the run. But the young woman was not a murderer. She was nothing of the sort. Whatever Edmont claimed, she was not a monster. She was a woman who was on the run and needed help. But she didn't get it, because people were only after money and many had tried to trade her for it. She was alone, which was very difficult for a young woman. Especially since it was not entirely safe to travel alone. Especially not for a pretty woman like she was. "I'm not going anywhere, witcher!" And that's when she ran... She ran through brush and sought refuge in the dense forest, but Geralt wasn't far behind. Somewhat annoyed by this woman, he'd grumbled deeply before finally taking up the trail and catching up with her a short time later. Immediately he grabbed the petite figure and she immediately began to struggle. "No, let me go! Please, let me go, witcher!" Y/N knew that a witcher was not to be messed with, and she also knew that she would never escape from him. But she would never voluntarily return to Edmont. She didn't even want to imagine what he would do to her if she was to go back to him. Unpleasant memories of her husband surfaced, causing her to lash out and even scratch the witcher. "Enough!" The Witcher cast a light spell to calm her down and immediately she sank exhausted into his strong arms. He didn't want to hurt the young woman, but he didn't want her to challenge him. "Don't even try to run away! If you know any witchcraft, you'd best make use of it now", he murmured grimly as he first grabbed her left hand, then reached for her right. Her delicate wrists he held together behind her back so that he could better control her and she could not cast any spells. "You can't escape a witcher. Don't make this more complicated!" "Please," she whimpered, frightened and desperate, but Geralt ignored it. He had already had a few encounters with witches who had tried to lead him astray, and he had learned from these mistakes. The witcher pushed Y/N out of the bushes, taking care not to hurt her. Briefly, the Witcher whistled out a high-pitched note, and a moment later, Roach approached, snorting softly as she stopped by the two. "I will tie your hands, M’lady", he told her, taking his hand from her shoulder after a threatening look in her direction, and pulling from a saddlebag a scratchy rope. First he released one of her hands to allow the rope to wrap around the first wrist, before guiding the hand forward to pull the other back beside it with a strong grip. Eventually, he fixed her hands behind her back and without another word, he lifted the young woman onto his horse to immediately sit up behind her. "No games!" "Please, you're making a big mistake, witcher!" But Y/N knew that her story would not interest him in the least. So far, no one had cared that she was on the run and needed help. They all just wanted the generous reward Edmont had promised them. Y/N was nothing more than merchandise. "Go on, Roach!" The witcher ignored Y/N's words and led his horse out of the winery. Of course, it did not go unnoticed that Y/N was being taken by a witcher. "Y/N! What is the meaning of this?" The old landlady could not believe that the young woman was taken by a witcher before her eyes. "Let her go, you monster! Y/N!" But the witcher could not be dissuaded from his intention and thus left Vermentino with the young woman...

The campfire warmed her cold bones. There was enough food, but Y/N would have none of it. Her mind was too much on Edmont and she knew what he would do to her once she was back with him. The white wolf watched the young woman and did not let her out of his sight for a moment. Even now, as he was about to eat his soup. "It will be a long journey. You should eat something, m'lady. Your husband will not want you to starve." "You know nothing of my husband, witcher." For Edmont cared quite little whether she would eat or not. The so-called husband gave the impression of a loving and concerned husband, but he was not. Yet, who was going to believe her? She was just a woman after all. Far too sensitive and whiny. "I'm only interested in the prize. Not who he is," Geralt said, taking the last sip from his bowl, "But apparently he's convinced you're dealing with black magic." "That's a lie! I have nothing to do with magic!" What other lies had Edmont told the witcher? She would like to know. In any case, Geralt seemed to believe everything the count had told him. Admittedly, Geralt's amulet did not react to the young woman. There seemed to be no magic surrounding her, but that could be for a variety of reasons. "Why did you attack your husband? He must have surprised you when you cast spells," Geralt asked calmly, looking at the young woman closely. She did not dare to look the witcher in the eye, because she was about to burst into tears. It would be useless to try to convince the witcher of her innocence. It was her word against Edmont's. And Edmont was an influential man. Escape had been the only way to leave him for good. That her husband would do anything to get her back, she should have expected, but he did not love her and treated her badly. So why didn't he just leave her alone? Y/N asked herself this question every day. "What does it matter? You're only doing it for the money," she said softly, and Geralt finished his questioning that night. Days passed and they were already at the Sodden border. For days, Y/N was looking for an opportunity to start an escape but the witcher kept a very close eye on her and this complicated matters. "It is getting dark. We will rest here and leave early tomorrow morning." Y/N did not answer the witcher. She was very quiet, had made no attempts to escape so far and this behavior Geralt found very strange. Also, nothing unusual had happened so far, yet Geralt did not trust her. He would never let her out of his sight. "Come!" Geralt helped the young woman get off her horse and like the other times, this seemed to disgust Y/N. The witcher didn't mind much, because after all, not everyone wanted to be touched by a mutant. That Y/N had other reasons and it had nothing to do with him in the least, he had no idea. "I'd like to take a bath." The words came quietly from the young woman as she felt the dusty ground beneath her feet. They had been traveling for days and there had not been many opportunities to wash. "I fear you will find only cold water here, M'lady!" The young woman sighed softly and closed her eyes, ignoring his stroppy statement. "Would you please take these shackles off me?" Geralt approached her, stopping directly in front of her before reaching behind her back, touching her upper body with his in the process. The young beauty looked up at him with wide eyes. The words stuck in her throat, her heart raced like crazy. How could the witcher dare to come so close to her? Geralt looked into her eyes with an empty expression as he loosened the bonds and finally took a few steps away from her. "You won’t go alone." Y/N was about to protest when something suddenly occurred to her. Maybe she should use her feminine charms? She feared, however, that the witcher was not so stupid as to fall for it. But she had heard that witchers had a decidedly large sexual appetite. So why shouldn't she give it a try? "You want to come with me?" "Either that, or you'll have to do without bathing for the next few days." "Well, witcher. If that is what you wish." Y/N forced a smile, glanced up at him through her thick, long lashes, and bit her lower lip lightly. "There's nothing I need to hide." He wanted a witch? Good, he could have that one. They were known for their seduction skills, and what a witch could do, Y/N had long been able to do. It might make her very uncomfortable, but she had no choice if she wanted her freedom. Then Y/N walked smoothly past him and led him in the direction where she had spotted the lake. Silently, Geralt followed the beautiful woman, keeping a close eye on her. He sensed her sudden change of mood and this did not please the white wolf. When Y/N reached her destination and stood at the edge of the lake, she unabashedly undressed in front of the witcher's eyes. Turning her back to him, she let the summer dress slide down her slender shoulders while Geralt watched her. The pupils of his eyes dilated, feeling arousal flowing through his veins at this sight,  but the witcher did not let himself notice anything. Y/N left the white undergarment on, for she would not show herself completely naked. The undergarment nevertheless showed a considerable amount of skin. Her slender legs seduced the Witcher. This situation was a kind of torture for Y/N, since she also had to deal with the fact that the witcher might attack her under the open starry sky. She inwardly pleaded to heaven that he would not touch her and that her plan would work. So she carefully dipped her feet into the water and shivered at the cold touching her skin. But Y/N tried to stay calm, not letting the cold wet stop her from carrying on with her intentions. Goosebumps covered her entire body, but she suppressed the unpleasant feeling. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at the witcher before she went deeper and deeper into the water and finally sank completely into it. Inwardly she screamed at the cold, but she pulled herself together and made no sound. At least not an audible one. The witcher could not see that she grimaced. He saw only the beautiful body of a young woman and was charmed by the sight of her. But he knew the seductive arts of a witch and should therefore beware. But before he could think about it, Y/N had already come out of the water. The last rays of sunlight fell on her skin, making the pearls of water on her body shimmer. The undergarment clung to her like a second skin. The white fabric stretched provocatively against her plump breasts, her rosy nipples standing out. Geralt remained in place with an expressionless look on his face, watching every movement of the beautiful woman, and when she came to a stop directly in front of him, he looked into her eyes. She withstood his gaze even though her heart was hammering madly against her ribcage, a fact that did not escape the witcher's notice. "I know about the witches' seduction rites, M'lady. Don't even try", he growled softly. "No, my dear witcher. It's just been a long time since a man last touched me. A man as special as you are", she replied softly as she placed her delicate hands on his chest. Geralt took a deep breath, carefully reaching for her shoulders, and Y/N tried to hide her fear. She almost had the witcher where she wanted him. "You don't know what you are getting into. The Count will be displeased should I give in to your advances." "My husband will not know. I promise you that", she whispered to him promisingly, her lips almost touching his as she stood on tiptoes, since he was quite a bit taller than she was. Suddenly Geralt grabbed her hips, pulling her body to his, and Y/N made a surprised sound. "You think I'm a fool?" The witcher was truly a tough one and Y/N cursed inwardly. But now was the opportunity to flee from the Witcher. It was now or never and even Geralt was going to be surprised. She slammed her knee full force between his legs, so that the witcher fellto his knees, groaning. The young woman took this opportunity and she immediately took flight. On her way, she gathered her clothes and ran through the dense bushes. Geralt growled, emitting an angry roar. That damned woman! She had actually managed to fool him! "Stubborn woman!" She was probably unaware of the dangers that awaited her in the Forest of Sodden. Geralt quickly recovered from the unexpected attack and immediately took up pursuit of the young woman. She ran and ran through the undergrowth, not looking back, and yet she heard the witcher's footsteps approaching her. Her bare feet ached, little stones bored into her flesh, and yet she was not allowed to care. To make matters worse, she stumbled on the uneven ground and almost lost her balance, but this was enough for the witcher to grab her and he pulled her to the ground. "No! No! Get off me!" She screamed, trying to free herself from the witcher's strong grip. To calm her down, he again manipulated her state of mind with his magic, causing the power to drain from her body. Geralt's anger evaporated when he saw the young woman's tears. She begged him not to hurt her. His face contorted into a pitying expression and for the first time since their encounter, he questioned his client. "Please! Don't hurt me!" "I won't..." His voice was unusually gentle and the young woman noticed it too. Uncertainly she looked into the face of the witcher and she saw regret in his eyes for the first time. "Do you realize the danger you are putting yourself in? To roam the woods of Sodden alone as a woman?" "I'd rather die on the run than have to return to my husband!" Geralt shook his head, and now he really wondered what the hell Edmont had done to cause such hatred in Y/N. "I'm going to let you go now, but if you try to escape again, I will not only tie your hands, but I will strap you to the back of my horse and ride all the way north with you like this! Do you understand?" And there she looked up at the witcher again, and the expression in her eyes made Geralt regret his words. Damn! Why did this situation suddenly become so complicated? With a deep sigh, Geralt rose and patted the dust off his pants before grabbing Y/N by her arm, pulling her to her feet as well. "Tell me, why a young woman would seek death? Is your husband really that bad? What truth is there behind this whole story?" The witcher began to doubt Edmont's story. "I didn't marry him for love", she gave softly and put her arms around her middle, for she began to freeze and her feet became ice cold. The story behind the union of the Count and Y/N, drew a trail of suffering behind it and until today, the young woman had always remained silent. In the end, no one had ever been interested in why she had run away. So why should a witcher care? Someone without feelings and emotions? Y/N knew that witchers were incapable of empathy. "Very well, master witcher. Take me to him. I won't cause you any troubles any more." For she was tired of running. She was tired and exhausted. Geralt thought her change of heart strange, and yet he could see how exhausted she was. "Come, then. Get dressed. Otherwise you will catch a cold."

[princessaxoxo]

Mine

Dark!Geralt x reader

Summary: Geralt shows you that you're only his.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, angst, rough unprotected sex (p in v), slight choking, Dub!con, virginity loss, vulgar language

Word Count: 791

With horror, you witnessed Geralt’s golden irises bore into the man’s eyes that he had just killed in a swift motion. The man’s head rolled, stopping right at your feet. Any other individual would be fleeing or screaming. However, you? Not at all. You were utterly still and unmoving in your place.

You began to notice that your hands were shaking.

Soon after, a powerful hand caught your jaw and raised your head. With great intensity, Geralt's eyes met yours, and through clenched teeth, he spoke one word. "Mine."

His breaths were coming out harshly, his chest rising and falling with steam from his enraged state. Geralt’s hand moved from your jaw to your arm and harshly dragged you to the small cabin you both were taking shelter in. You winced under his rough touch. “Geralt! You’re hurting me. Stop!” you shouted, and he ignored your pleas to let go.

The small droplets of blood fell from his sword and led a trail to the small cabin, and inside, he dropped it and shoved you in, slamming the door shut. You were oblivious to Geralt's possessiveness toward you until now.

Geralt stalked toward you, and you began to walk backward, stopping when you hit the wall. He trapped you as he put both of his hands near your head. "I am the only man who will ever be allowed to touch you. Any other man who attempts will be killed by me; the man you just saw was an example."

“Do you understand?” Geralt was waiting for a response from you—any response. However, you gave none. You just stood there, staring right back at him. His jaw ticked, and he asked again. “Do you understand?” You began to stammer out your words. “I.. understand.” 

You’d never been scared of Geralt until now. “I don’t believe you fully do." His eyes looked over your face, and a wicked smile formed. "But you're about to..."

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. Geralt pulled on your hair, causing your head to bend backward, and his other hand gripped your jaw as he grazed his teeth along your neck and up to your mouth, where he smashed his lips against yours.

With his hands still on your hair, Geralt steered you backward until you struck the table on the other side of the room. Every object on the table was shoved off its surface by his hands.

He began to rid himself of his attire. You tried to move, but he stopped you with his large hand, encircling your throat. “Don’t.” He said it with a threatening tone.

His eyes ranked over your body for a moment before he tore off your clothing.

Geralt aggressively started to assault your lips once more, his tongue dominating yours. His hands began to harshly massage your breasts, and he pushed you down on the table.

As soon as you felt the cold surface underneath you, he intruded your cunt with his cock. "Geralt, wait!” you yelled. With no concern for your being, Geralt stretched your walls, causing you to experience an unparalleled level of pain.

Tears welled in your eyes and your nails scraped against the wooden surface. You could feel his sac hitting your ass each time he pushed back into you.

“I'm the only person who is allowed to see your body, to touch you, and to fuck you until you can't remember who or where you are."

His tone turned harsh. "Fucking"—thrust—"take"—thrust—"it". Geralt said this through clenched teeth.

The pain that had consumed you was subsiding, and an overwhelming amount of pleasure replaced it. You couldn’t help the whimpers that fell from your lips.

Geralt moved his hands from your hips to your throat, squeezing lightly. His growls became louder: “The feel of your cunt is astonishing; all mine, all the time, whenever I want."

Mindlessly, you spoke to him. “Yes, all yours whenever you please.” Another moan fell from your lips.

Geralt closed his eyes, trying to control himself before losing control, but you drove him insane with everything about you. His body shook as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. “Fuck..” 

You reached out and wrapped your slender fingers around his wrist as you reached for release. “Yes, come all over my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

His thumb rubbed across your jaw as he loosed his grip around your neck and bent down to kiss you, this time more softly. Your vibrant red crimson covered his cock from losing the girl you were to becoming a woman.

He carried you to his bed. “For now, rest. I'm going to show you more how you belong to me.”

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @identity2212 @chloe92 @juliaorpll78 @nighttimestan

[ro-is-struggling]

Safer In His Arms || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Since you were little you always dreamed of meeting a noble and brave knight, falling in love and marrying him to rule your kingdom together until the end of your days. But as you looked around at the men that had come to the banquet to ask for your hand in marriage, it was clear that those dreams were nothing more than a fantasy. Or at least that's what you thought until fate crossed your path with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher, with his hard expression and cold stare, was the last person anyone would describe as warm or chivalrous. But not you. From the moment you met him, you saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. And when he managed to rescue you from the hands of bandits, you knew that maybe there was still some hope that your fantasy could come true —just maybe not in the way you had always imagined. 

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of sexual assault (nothing happens but if it’s triggering for you I wouldn’t read it), protective!geralt, SMUT MINORS DNI, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, loss of virginity (not accurate this is just porn!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, aftercare, fluff

English is not my first language

Word count: 13500 (not even sorry)

Notes: I don't know why I keep giving every princess I write a sad/tragic story, sorry about that. Also this ended up being way more smutty than I anticipated, sorry about that too (not really). It was supposed to be a fun little hurt/comfort fic about Geralt saving the reader but it developed a mind of its own and ended up being another excuse to write more smut. I tried to make the smut a bit more fluffy than normal since it's supposed to be the reader's first time, but I didn't want it to be too fluffy given that they technically barely know each other, so there's no actual love between them (if that makes sense?). So, sorry if it's a bit all over the place!

The cold breeze of the summer night hit your skin the moment you set foot outside, reminding you that you should have taken a coat. While the days tended to be hot this time of year, once the sun set over the horizon a cool breeze embraced the entire kingdom, courtesy of the ocean forces that surrounded the borders of the land. It was quite peaceful. On a quiet night you loved to sit in the courtyard listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and smelling the scent of the salty water that was carried by the winds and mingled with the sweet perfume of the garden flowers. It seemed to always bring peace to your troubled mind, and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You could still hear the noise coming from inside the castle, though it was slowly getting lost in the sound of the sea. The laughter, the chatter, the joyful music, it all faded into the background as you plopped down on one of the seats in the courtyard, allowing yourself a moment to take a deep breath and let the beauty of your kingdom impart some of the wisdom you so desperately needed. All the guests were there for you —to talk and dance with you, to make unattainable but romantic promises in exchange for your hand in marriage— and yet all you wanted to do was disappear. You were tired of the politics, the diplomacy, tired of feeling the pressure of having to decide the future of your life and your kingdom in one night. The choice of a husband was very important to your parents, to your people and it should be to you too, but all you wanted was for the day to be over.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one feeling overwhelmed in there." A deep voice startled you. 

Looking up you were met with a tall man leaning against one of the stone pillars supporting the roof of the covered section of the courtyard. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles showing through the fabric of his clothes. His white hair hid part of his face, though you could still make out his hard expression and defined jaw. But what caught your attention the most was not the size of his muscles or the fact that the clothes he was wearing seemed too elegant for someone like him. No, what caught your attention the most were the amber eyes that watched you, admiring you from a distance, hiding behind a few rebellious strands of hair. You had never seen such beautiful eyes before. They were piercing, and yet there was a softness in them. Like the sun on a summer afternoon, they shone with an intensity that would have blinded anyone. But you were mesmerized by them, unable to look away. 

"Though I must admit I did not expect to find you here, your highness, given that you are the center of the party."

"I needed some fresh air." You managed to say, forcing yourself to look away from his eyes. "I lost count of the number of men I danced with tonight...I just needed a break."

"That bad, huh?" His lips curved upward slightly, giving his hard expression a softer look. "I suppose if any of them had made a good impression at least you would remember their name."

"It wouldn't matter anyways. My parents have a very strong opinion about the one I should choose." You let out a bitter chuckle. "This banquet is just a formality, a contingency plan.... Give everyone a false sense of hope so they won't attack us for feeling left out."

"I'm sure you still have some sort of control over the whole thing. You're the one getting married after all."

"Since when does a woman's opinion matter when there's wealth and power involved? I'm just a pawn in their political game." Your gaze dropped, focusing on the embroidered details of your dress to avoid facing the intense gaze of the man in front of you. "When I was a girl I used to dream of growing up, meeting a brave and honorable prince and falling in love with him... now I know that feelings come after marriage, if they come at all."

Geralt watched you walk arround the courtyard, your fingers tracing the petals of the flowers that decorated the place without paying much attention to your movements. You had a blank stare and a sad expression adorned your delicate face. He was not a big lover of royalty —he didn't care about politics and didn't like the arrogant tone with which most of them used to speak—, but you were different. When he looked at you he didn't see a spoiled, arrogant princess or a manipulative political figure capable of anything to get their way. He only saw a sad and disillusioned young woman, confused about her future and the responsibility that fell on her shoulders. 

Geralt felt bad for you and had an inexplicable urge to hug you, though he restrained himself. He opted to move closer to you, just took a couple of steps forward and he was already able to breathe in the scent of your perfume. His nostrils were pleasantly assaulted by the sweet scent emanating from your skin and hair. It was special, a blend of jasmine, vanilla and a hint of sea water. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before and he was sure that your scent would linger in his memory for a long time.

"It is still your life." He spoke behind your back and you turned to look at him. He seemed much bigger now that he was closer to you. His figure towered over you imposingly, yet his eyes were soft. "You can always take back your control over it." Your lips curved upward slightly and Geralt thought the smile suited you much better than the grimace of sadness. 

You appreciated his effort to improve your mood. He was a complete stranger who had no reason to listen to your complaints about a life that many considered privileged. And though his words were simple, they accomplished their purpose. You felt so helpless and trapped that you were unable to see that things didn't end there. Yes, you were forced to marry someone you did not love for the sake of your kingdom, but that was not the same as giving up your life, your control and power over it. There was still hope.

"Thank you..." you trailed off, realizing at that moment that you had opened yourself so sincerely to a man whose name you didn't even know. 

But before he could introduce himself, a voice in the distance interrupted you, answering for him.

"Geralt! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you. You are supposed to protect me, you know."

Geralt let out an irritated sigh as the man you recognized as one of the many musicians hired by your parents to play at the banquet approached you. You had to stifle a chuckle as you realized that rather than escaping the noise of the party, he had come there to get a break from his friend's vibrant and cheerful personality. They were an odd pair, but you had no doubt that there had to be trust between them from the way the bard addresses him.

“I’ve been doing the impossible to hide from Lord Kaius for ages! What the hell were you doing out her–” The artist's complaints were cut short when his eyes finally rested on your figure. "Your highness." He gave a subtle bow, the tone of his voice changing to a lower, more subtle one from one second to the next.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I was preoccupying your friend with the problems that afflict my mind on this fine evening and he was too kind to interrupt me. He was a great help, but you can take him back now. You clearly need him more than I do."

"Won't you come inside, your highness? You wouldn't want to miss your own party." The bard asked and you smiled at him. 

"In a moment. I'd like to enjoy the peace and fresh air for a while longer."

Geralt didn't know why, but his eyes kept searching for you in the crowd of people dancing and eating like there was no tomorrow. After Jaskier dragged him back to the banquet hall —and after saving him from the fury of the man whose daughter had lost her innocence in the hands of the bard—, he kept his eyes on the big dark wooden doors, waiting to see you enter. But the minutes passed and there was no sign of you anywhere. He hadn't seen you come through the door and he couldn't find you in the crowd of people or see you at the royal table sitting next to your parents. You had disappeared and some people were beginning to notice.

For a moment, Geralt wondered if perhaps his words had encouraged certain behaviors in you. Maybe your way of taking control of your life was to run away from there, leaving your parents, your suitors and your responsibilities behind and start from scratch. He was wondering if perhaps he should go out to look for you, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a man running towards the king and queen waving a paper in his raised right hand.

"The princess has been kidnapped." He announced loudly, causing the entire room to fall into a deep silence. 

The musicians stopped playing, the people dancing stood motionless in the middle of the room and the queen almost fainted at that very moment. There was a collective sigh and then nothing. Pure silence while the king read the note that had been left behind by the bandits, establishing a payment for the recovery of the princess.

However, the silence did not last long. It was a room full of princes, knights and lords who were there to win the heart of the princess —or at least, the political interest of her parents— so chaos was bound to break out at a time like that. Lord Einar, the one who had found the note in the courtyard, was the first to offer his services to save the princess. His bravery set off a chain reaction of man after man appearing before the king to justify why they were the best suited for the task and not their competitors. And as they fought among themselves, Geralt decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He finally felt comfortable as he inspected the courtyard and its surroundings for some sort of clue as to your whereabouts. For the first time since he had arrived at the castle he felt as if he actually had something to do there. Banquets and politics weren't his thing, but tracking down and hunting evil was. And while his area of expertise was monsters, he was willing to make an exception —anything to find an excuse to get him out of the political mess unfolding in the banquet hall.

His senses enhanced by the mutation allowed Geralt to follow the path that your scent had left in the air. He only had to take a couple of deep breaths and he immediately caught the fragrance of jasmine and vanilla that he had smelled on your skin. It stood out above any other scent near him, almost as if he had you in front of him once again. All he had to do was follow it to the outskirts of the castle, where his tracking skills allowed him to form a clearer picture of the situation.

They were heading north, away from the ocean and into the forest. The four pairs of footprints in the dirt indicated the presence of three heavy men who were accompanied by a fourth subject that was not so pleased to be there. The footprints were more shallow and imperfect. They belonged to a person of smaller build who was being dragged by those men. Geralt found no blood on the path, so he felt optimistic. You were conscious and had no serious wounds that would leave traces of your blood on the road, so there was a high chance that he would arrive in time to save you.

Following the path became a little more complicated the deeper he went into the woods, but fortunately for him the vegetation was not so lush and the bandits had not hidden very far away. Soon he was able to hear their angry mutterings in the distance. The night wind carried your sobs with it and Geralt followed them as if it were a map straight to your whereabouts. 

You were being held captive in what appeared to be abandoned land. There was a dirty old shack and behind it, in the distance, Geralt could make out a barn that he had no doubt was in the same condition. A dim light was escaping through the half-open wooden door, so he knew that was where he had to go. 

Two of the bandits scattered around the property to control the perimeter while one remained inside with you. Geralt was able to slip past them unseen with ease. Clearly, they were not men of great intellect and wisdom. Only a fool would kidnap a princess on the one night she was surrounded by strong and capable noble knights looking to prove themselves to her. Although glancing around, he was the only one there, so perhaps the bandits had a point.

Geralt was very careful with his movements, seeking to stay in the shadows as long as possible to assess the situation. He knew he could take out those men without breaking a sweat, even if they attacked him all three at once. But he had to consider that you were in the middle and any mistake he made could end badly for you. So he took his time, stealing a glimpse of the barn through the cracked door. His vision was limited by the odd angle from which he was forced to observe the scene, as well as the dim light that illuminated the room. Geralt was considering going in with his sword held high and end it all, when a sudden movement forced him to retreat so as not to be found.

Still, he got to see the way the man was mistreating you, pushing you violently against a pile of hay while you cried and begged for your life. And he got to hear the string of degenerate words he spat at you, enjoying the fear in your voice as you struggled to keep your distance from him. It made Geralt angry. Very angry.

The next sequence of actions happened so quickly that it was hard for you to process it. Although, to be honest, your mind wasn't quite there either. A part of you was completely missing, preparing to face the worst. When your captor lunged at you, effectively imprisoning you against the hay and almost completely restricting your movements, your mind transported you to another place. You could still hear his voice in the distance, smell his unpleasant odor and feel his weight on your body, but it all felt distant, muffled by the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks and the smell of salt water. Your body was still struggling to break free and tears were still streaming down your cheeks, but your mind was preparing to face the horror you knew was coming.

"You can cry all you want, no one is coming to save you." The man clicked his tongue, an evil smile forming on his lips. "A castle full of people and not a single man in sight, what a shame! But don't worry, princess, the time has come for you to know what a real man is." He moved his hands to the buttons of his pants, his leering gaze roaming over your body. You felt like screaming, crying and vomiting all at the same time, but you remained immobile, not knowing how to react. You simply closed your eyes, concentrating on the images of the sea you loved so much, waiting for the moment to pass.

But instead of feeling the weight of your captor's body on you again, you felt the splatter of warm liquid on your skin. Droplets rolled down your cheeks, mixing with your tears, and streams fell on your clothes. When you opened your eyes you found the sharp point of a sword poking out of your captor's pierced stomach. It was his blood that drenched your body, his blood that stained your clothes. It poured down on you from the wound in his stomach and from the cut in his throat that prevented him from producing more than broken cries as he drowned in his own blood.

It took you a few seconds to understand what was happening. Your confused mind, on high alert for new dangers, was not able to comprehend that the death of your captor was something positive for you. You only saw blood in quantities you had never seen before and could not help but scream as you watched in horror as the sword disappeared inside the bandit's body —splashing a few more drops of blood on its way out.

In the blink of an eye, the dying body of your captor was removed from above you and was replaced by a hand that pressed over your mouth to silence you. You struggled against it, your own hands snapping out of their state of shock to clutch at the arm of the new danger in an attempt to separate it from you. But then your eyes focused on the man leaning over you, the one who had saved you and who was desperately asking you to keep quiet.

A surge of calm ran through your body as you made contact with those golden eyes that intrigued you so much. You knew then that you were no longer in danger for Geralt had come to your rescue. Your heart was still beating almost inhumanly fast, pumping adrenaline throughout your body, and your breathing was still rapid, but you were able to calm your whimpers of protest under his hand. You stopped fighting him, trusting that you would be safe under his care.

"There are more-" You tried to warn him as he removed his hand from your mouth, but Geralt shushed you.

"I know, they're outside. That's why I need you to stay quiet and hide while I deal with them. Can you do that, your highness?" You nodded slowly, letting Geralt lead you to the back of the barn. He settled you behind a pile of hay that was large enough to hide your crouched figure, asking you to stay there until he came back for you, no matter what you heard outside.

"Wait! Don't leave me!" you panicked as he took a step away from you. Your hand flew to his arm, clinging to his clothes in an attempt to keep him from leaving. You knew what he had to do, but the thought of being alone again terrified you.

"Everything will be fine." Geralt tried to calm you, his voice a soft whisper. "I promise I will come back for you." 

He gave you a moment before trying to leave once again, waiting for you to let go of his arm willingly rather than forcibly push you away. Geralt knew you were terrified and needed support, and he was more than willing to give it, but first he had to take care of the bandits that were still on the loose. And it would not be wise to fight them while you were present. It would only distress you further and put you in unnecessary danger. So, with a slight nod, he left you in the barn once more, disappearing into the night to finish what he had started.

You curled up in your place, listening to the distant sounds of the fight as you let another wave of tears roll down your cheeks. The smell of blood and dirt surrounded you. You were covered in it —in dirt, from being pushed back and forth around the place; in your captor's sweat, after he threw his body over yours; and in his blood, thanks to Geralt's fierce but effective attack. It made you want to vomit. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and your mind was slowly beginning to understand the great danger you were in and how lucky you were that Geralt showed up when he did.

“Princess?” 

His voice brought you back to reality. He was kneeling beside you, looking at you with concern in those beautiful yellow eyes. The skin on his face was stained with a few drops of blood, as you imagined yours to be, but that did not lessen the softness of his expression. You threw yourself into his arms without a second thought, hiding your face in his neck as you sobbed in relief to know that the danger was over.

"It's okay, you're safe. I'm here, it's going to be okay." Geralt muttered against your hair, pulling you into his arms hoping that would be enough to help ease your nerves. 

He held you against his body for as long as you needed him to, stroking your back with his hand in a slow, delicate way to inspire some sense of calm in you. He didn't move for a moment, not even when your sobs began to fade and your breathing became regular. No, Geralt waited for you to make the first move, breaking away from him when you were ready to do so. 

"It's all right. You're fine. Just breathe with me. In...and out...in...and out. All right." 

You let the soft but deep tone of his voice slowly wash away the paralyzing fear and nerves that plagued you. You focused on the warmth of his body and the way his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safe. You mimicked the rhythm of his breathing, letting him slowly guide you back to normal. 

When you opened your eyes again the world around you was no longer spinning. Your vision was still a little blurry from the tears, but you could make out perfectly the yellow eyes, bright as the summer sun, watching you carefully.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a small smile. "Did they hurt you?" You shook your head. Most of the blood on you at that moment wasn't yours, thankfully. Beyond a couple of bruises on your wrists from the bindings, and a split lip from a slap, you weren't injured. Your head hurt and you had twisted your ankle in an attempt to escape but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

"Who were they?" You asked in a shaky voice as you tried to stand up. You winced in pain as you put weight on your injured foot, but Geralt caught you in his arms before you lost your balance.

"Trust me, you're not going to like the answer to that."

A collective sigh was heard as you and Geralt entered the war room, where the king and queen were coordinating a rescue party with some soldiers and half of the suitors present at the banquet. It was a sigh of surprise rather than relief. It was clear that no one expected to see you there, much less with the disheveled appearance you had. 

Your mother was the first to react, running up to you with tears in her eyes. Although she couldn't bring herself to hug you, the blood that stained your ball gown was still fresh, so she settled for holding your cheeks in her hands while repeating over and over again how happy she was that you were safe. Your father reacted by sending the guards to arrest Geralt as his worried mind believed that the witcher somehow had something to do with your kidnapping. You had to stand between them, taking your savior's hand in yours to make your position clear. 

"What you imply is ridiculous! He saved me, father. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." you stated firmly, keeping your head held high and holding back tears in your eyes. 

"He very well could still be behind all this. He's a witcher who wasn't officially invited to the festivities and conveniently vanished in the middle of the night without a word. No one can attest to him but that bard..."

"No offense, your majesty, but I just felt as though the situation was not being treated with the necessary urgency." Geralt interjected, speaking in a calm and slightly defiant tone. "I knew for a fact that she couldn't be far away and that time was of the essence, but everyone at that feast seemed more interested in proving themselves worthy of glory and respect than saving your daughter's life. I just did what had to be done."

"How dare you speak that way about these noble men, witcher! Any one of them would be more than willing to give his life for my daughter!"

"He is right, father. If you want to find a culprit, you should direct your gaze to Lord Einar."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. But his gaze was focused on you, staring at you with a fury you didn't know if the others were able to detect. He took a step forward and you tightened your grip on Geralt's hand, instinctively seeking his support. He stuck to your side, silently letting you know that he was ready to come between him and you if necessary —though he seriously doubted that Einar would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of the king.

"This is absurd!" Lord Einar complained with exaggerated outrage. "I will not allow myself to be disrespected in this way! I was invited to this feast to formalize my interest in the princess, which is greater than that of anyone in this room, if I may add. Have you forgotten that it was I who noticed the princess's strange disappearance? If I had not gone out to look for her, perhaps the news of her disappearance would have come too late. And may I remind you, your majesty, that it was I who first offered my services to bring her back safe and sound."

"That was the plan, wasn't it?" Geralt spoke through gritted teeth. "To pay some coins to a bunch of desperate bastards to take her so that you could rescue her and thus win her and the king's heart."

"I will not allow this... thing to disrespect me like this!"

"Your scent was on their clothes. Your name was the last thing they uttered before I slit their throats. You knew you didn't stand a chance with her, so you found a way to force your name to the top of the list."

Intimidated by Geralt's cold, hard stare, Lord Einar turned to look at the king. "These are nothing more than baseless accusations made by someone who clearly wants to distract us from his own guilt and involvement." he said, keeping his head held high as he lied through his teeth. "I beg you, my king, to consider punishment for this insolent witcher."

"Is this proof enough for you?" you snapped, tossing an object on the table. 

After the bandits were dead, Geralt had searched their bodies for some kind of proof that their words were true. That's how he had found a ring in the pocket of one of them that clearly didn't belong to them. It was made of a fine metal and in the center, engraved in gold, was the seal of a noble family: the Blakesley family.

The ring rolled against the dark wood, exposing Lord Einar's lies with each flick of the ring before the gaze of all present. There was nothing he could say to avoid the punishment that was coming, so when your father gave the order and the guards took him by force, he decided to take his rage out on you. His voice echoed through the corridors as he was escorted to the dungeon, shouting a string of insults at you. He questioned your honor and your ability as a ruler, claiming that he only wanted to marry you to ensure that the kingdom would not perish when your father died. 

Those were nothing more than the words of an unstable man who was filled with spite, angered by your rejection. You knew it meant nothing, but you still couldn't help but feel humiliated as he shouted all those things in front of so many people. Your eyes filled with tears and you clung to Geralt almost instinctively, hiding your face in his neck so no one would see you cry. He wrapped his arms around you, ignoring the very unfriendly looks that several of the men in the room gave him. 

Your mother ordered the room to be emptied, realizing that the crowd was doing nothing to help your condition. The last thing you needed at that moment was to feel watched and judged by a bunch of people, so she personally closed the doors behind the last guard to leave the room.

"You should take a long bath, my love. I'll send someone to prepare the tub and clean clothes for you. That will certainly make you feel better." Your mother spoke in a soft voice, placing a hand on your back. "And you, witcher, are more than welcome to stay tonight. I'll have a room prepared for you and bring you some clean clothes. We can talk more in the morning."

You gave your mother a smile as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, trying to convince her that you were fine. She knew you weren't, but she also knew you well enough not to push you at that moment. So she left the room without adding anything else, leaving you alone with Geralt once again.

"Thank you... for everything." Your voice broke the silence, your eyes traveling from the door to Geralt's face. "I just realized I didn't thank you yet." 

"You don't have to." He didn't need to hear it from your mouth, he could see in your eyes how grateful you were. Your expression hadn't changed much since he had found you, even though you tried hard to hide it, there were still traces of fear and distress in your eyes.

"Of course I have to! You have saved me from a terrible fate, not only at the hands of those bandits, but also at the hands of that... man." There were other words with which you would have liked to describe him, but you decided it was not appropriate for you to utter them. He didn't even deserve that from you. "I'm glad you were dragged here... I don't know what would have become of me without you tonight, Geralt."

The room fell silent as you looked into each other's eyes. You lost yourself in the amber that surrounded his pupils —which seemed to be more dilated, although it could well be an effect of the light, you thought—, trying to discover the secrets hidden in his eyes. Geralt was not easy to read, no matter how hard you tried, you had no idea of the things that could be going through his head at that moment. And yet, there was something in his eyes that calmed you. When he looked back at you, there was a softness in them that invited you to continue to admire them forever. It was a connection unlike anything you had ever felt before. It piqued your curiosity and some other things you didn't quite know how to explain. 

Your hand was still intertwined with Geralt's and you weren't entirely sure for how long. Although you weren't complaining, you found the warmth of his skin against yours extremely comforting. It made you feel less alone, less vulnerable. You trusted him with your life, you knew that as long as he was around nothing bad could happen to you. And boy did you need that at that moment. You were still quite affected by everything that had happened and the idea of being alone terrified you. You needed company, but not just anyone. You needed his company.

"Would you mind escorting me to my chambers?" you broke the silence, clearing your throat to make sure your voice sounded firm. "My foot still hurts a little and I wouldn't want to fall down the stairs."

It was a foolish excuse. You knew it. Geralt knew it. The twisted foot you got while struggling with your captors was not a cause for concern. It hurt a little, yes, but you could still walk normally. All you wanted was an excuse not to be separated from Geralt and luckily for you, he played along. He allowed you to take his arm for stability and walked with you to your quarters. You appreciated his proximity, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against yours as his warmth enveloped you. But unfortunately it only seemed to aggravate his absence when he pulled away from you, willing to leave you alone so you could rest.

Your hand closed around his arm almost as an unwilling reflex. Your body craved his closeness. Your mind needed his company to be at ease. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't let Geralt leave. Not tonight at least. His eyes lingered on your hand, admiring how small it appeared when compared to his arm, before he looked up into your eyes, searching your expression for an explanation.

"Stay, please." Your voice was almost a whisper. Your eyes had trouble making eye contact with him for the first time since you had met. Geralt knew then that you were embarrassed of uttering those words. "I need you. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Are you sure?" He said after a few seconds of silence, his expression firm but gentle. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes as you released his arm from your grip. Geralt sighed and finally crossed the threshold of the door, closing it behind him. 

Geralt allowed you to guide him across the room to a door that hid a large private bathtub on the other side. It was already filled with water and salts, ready for you to use it. Everything smelled of you, of that delicious combination of jasmine and vanilla that Geralt found so special. It was intoxicating, like he was breathing in your scent straight from the source. 

"Would you mind helping me with the lace?" Your voice brought him back to reality. Geralt watched as you turned around, gathering your hair over one of your shoulders to expose your back to him so he could unfasten your dress. He knew it was inappropriate and that he was probably breaking some rule —not to mention, taking advantage of the king's hospitality—, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not when you were offering yourself to him like that.

Geralt's hands caressed your back first, his fingers slowly tracing a path from your shoulders to where the lacing of your dress ended. You closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt him slowly loosen your dress. You could feel his imposing figure towering over you. He was so close that you could hear his breathing and feel the heat radiating from his body. You liked the proximity, probably more than you should.

When Geralt finished his work and your dress began to slide down your shoulders, you knew you should have been embarrassed. You were used to being naked in front of servants, but they were always women you trusted, handmaidens who had taken care of you since you were little and helped you dress or bathe. You had never been so exposed in front of a man before and you should definitely feel ashamed, but you were not. You simply let the dress fall to your feet and stepped into the tub as if there was no man present.

The water was warm and the tub was deep enough to hide your modesty if you sat in the right position. The dim candlelight also helped, though ultimately you really didn't mind feeling Geralt's gaze on your body.

"Join me, please. The water's nice and there's room enough for both of us."

Your curious eyes unashamedly traced the muscles of his arms and torso as he revealed himself to you. You noticed the scars that marked his skin, some smaller and some larger, and you couldn't help but wonder what the stories behind them were. Geralt was an exceptional man, unlike anyone you had ever met in your life. He was so rigid and reserved, and yet he had shown nothing but kindness and gentleness in your presence. He was a mystery and you wanted nothing more than to discover what he hid behind those beautiful amber eyes.

Out of respect —and some embarrassment—, you looked away as his hands undid the buttons of his pants. You focused your attention on the jasmine petals floating in the water, feeling your cheeks grow warm as a small voice in your head encouraged you to look up. 

Geralt settled next to you in the tub, avoiding being too close or sitting in front of you so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable or self-conscious in his presence. However, you needed his closeness, so you shortened the distance as much as you could, pressing your arm against his. When he didn't complain, you went a step further and rested your head on his shoulder. Geralt stood still for a moment, debating once again whether his actions were appropriate, but in the end he relaxed. 

He put his arm around your shoulders, effectively pulling you closer to him. A smile formed on your lips as you adjusted yourself in the new position, hiding your face in his neck. Geralt's fingers traced soft lines on the skin of your arm, a caress that both relaxed and excited you. That kind of intimacy was something new to you. Feeling his naked skin against yours, inhaling that musky scent mixed with something you couldn't describe as anything but his own essence, feeling the soft caresses of his calloused fingers, everything made you feel a certain way inside. You didn't have the exact words to describe it. It was like a flame, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and exciting. Ultimately, you didn't care about being able to put a name to what you felt. You just wanted to stay close to Geralt for as long as you were allowed.

Without even realizing it, your hand traveled up to his chest, your curious fingers tracing the jagged lines that marked his skin. You used the scars as a map to his body, letting them guide your path as you explored his chest with your touch. And as your fingers moved, you imagined the heroic stories behind each one, wondering what kind of monsters had inflicted them and if there were any that were human-made.

"I wonder how many princesses you've saved to end up like this." You broke the silence, your voice soft as you got lost in thought. It was mostly a joke, but there was some genuine curiosity hidden in it. 

"Surprisingly, less than you're probably imagining."

You didn't quite know why, but hearing Geralt say that put a smile on your lips. It made you feel special, in a way. He hadn't been hired to save you —technically he hadn't even been invited to the party—, he had no obligation to you or your family, and yet he had risked his life to help you. There was something in you that awakened in him his noblest instincts.

"I'm sure that's what you tell everyone." You laughed, looking up at him from your position on his shoulder. You could admire his profile, his sharp jawline and the way his lips curved upward slightly as he let out a huff.

"Often delicate young women like you find my methods to be too... grotesque. They don't see me as being much different from the monsters I kill." Geralt spoke honestly, remembering the horrified expressions on the faces of the maidens he had sought to save from danger in his past, when he had little experience as a witcher. He was young and naive at the time and believed he could use his skills for more than just hunting monsters. After all, evil came in all shapes and sizes, even in humans. It didn't take him long to understand that humans didn't see a knight of noble spirit when he intervened in such situations, only a mutant designed to kill.

You noticed his thoughtful expression, his eyes looking straight ahead as if his mind was transporting him to another place. You wondered what kind of memories he might have swirling around in his head at that moment, outraged to think that someone could treat him badly after he saved their life. You admitted that he had quite an imposing figure and that his expression wasn't very friendly most of the time, but you still couldn't understand how anyone could be afraid of him. Even before he saved you —when he was just a stranger who took the time to listen to your problems— you saw nothing threatening in him. His beautiful yellow eyes inspired nothing but trust in you from the first moment you made contact with them.

“Then they were all fools." You sat up straight, one hand resting on Geralt's cheek to force him to look at you. "I don't understand how anyone could look at you and see danger in you. Even covered in blood, all I see is... safety and comfort." You gave him a small smile as your finger carefully wiped a small spot of blood from his cheek.

"Or maybe you're being naively nice."

Geralt took a cloth that rested on the edge of the tub and dipped it in the warm water. Then one of his hands cupped your chin, tilting your face slightly so he could get a better look at you in the candlelight. The flames danced in the air, creating shadows on your delicate skin. But even in the dim light he could still see the splashes of blood that stained your beautiful face. They made such a contrast that it was impossible to ignore them. The implication of such a violent act had no place on the delicate face of a princess like you. He hated to see the scratch on your lip, the dirt on your cheeks, the dried blood on your skin. You should not have been subjected to such horrors and he wanted to do everything in his power to erase the evidence from your body. So Geralt took the trouble to wipe the blood away, carefully running the wet cloth over your skin until it was all gone.

You remained silent as he worked on you, completely immobile while you watched him closely. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but his expression was gentle. His hands moved delicately over your skin, as if he was afraid of breaking you if he wasn't careful. You could barely feel the cloth brushing against your cheek from how slow and gentle Geralt was being. But his fingers... his fingers were another story.

They were warm against your skin, caressing every little spot the cloth passed through to soothe any possible irritation the fabric might arouse. They awakened a tingling sensation as they traveled down your face. When they reached your neck, you knew that Geralt could feel the accelerated pulsing of your heart against his fingertips. It was impossible that he couldn't when you could hear the beating in your ears yourself. His hands felt so big against your neck. If he wanted to hurt you, he could probably do it with just one hand. That should have scared you, considering he was a man you barely knew, but it didn't. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you, not when he caressed the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbones with such gentleness.

"Maybe I'm naive," you broke the silence, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. "But I honestly don't think a mutant designed to kill, as you say, would go to the trouble of caring for me the way you are doing."

Geralt's eyes looked up at you, that intriguing yellow you loved so much capturing you in a transe. They were calling you, daring you to dive into the ocean of honey and mystery that was his gaze. And you obeyed without the slightest resistance, letting your heart take the reins of your body. You leaned towards him, slowly. His hands were still on your neck, but he didn't use them to stop you. On the contrary, he leaned towards you too and when your lips finally collided, he used his grip on your jaw to deepen the kiss.

The kiss started slow, a quick brush of your lips as you finally let yourselves indulge in your deepest desires. But as you became more comfortable in each other's arms, the kiss intensified. You let Geralt guide you, knowing that he would undoubtedly have more experience than you. You surrendered to his lips and the caresses of his tongue, giving yourself to him completely as you struggled to keep up with him. 

That wasn't your first kiss, however, it was the first kiss that felt like this, so... intense, passionate. You barely remembered the boy who had given you your first kiss, but you knew you would remember Geralt for the rest of your life. You didn't know how he did it, but the simple touch of his lips and the strokes of his fingers on your skin turned you to mush between his hands. You had never felt anything like it before and you didn't want to stop. But despite your protests, Geralt suddenly pulled away from you.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound annoyed or confused, more concerned. 

"I'm taking control of my life." You leaned into him once more and Geralt accepted your kiss, his desperate lips demonstrating his true intentions. He let his desires consume him for a moment before regaining control over his body and pulling away from you again.

"Are you sure?" It wasn't that he wanted to stop, but the voice of morality in the back of his mind compelled him to make sure you wanted the same. He needed to know that he wasn't taking advantage of you, that you weren't throwing yourself into his arms as a result of your vulnerable state after the attack.

"For as long as I can remember, I have always dreamed of meeting a noble prince who would protect me from danger. We would fall in love and live a long and happy life together after our marriage. Now I know that is impossible. I cannot choose who I marry. I cannot choose to marry for love. There's nothing I can do to change it, that's just the way things work." You paused, your hands reaching for Geralt's to entwine your fingers. "But I can still choose who to give myself to, body and soul, for the first time... and you're the closest thing I have to that fantasy."

There was a sadness in your eyes that made Geralt feel bad for you. He didn't know you very well, but he knew you deserved better than a future you didn't want. The inability to choose your own path in life was something that seemed to affect you greatly, and if he was able to bring you some peace he was willing to do so. But the tub full of dirty water was not the place for it, much less considering it would be your first experience of something like that. 

"Speak freely." You said after a few seconds of unbearable silence. "If you don't want to be with me because you don't like me I'll understand. But please don't turn me down just because you think you're guarding my honor or something. I want this... I want you."

Those last words seemed to do the trick, because Geralt's lips joined yours once again. Only this time the kiss was different, much slower and more sensual, though just as desperate. His lips moved in time with yours, tongues intertwined in a sinful dance as Geralt allowed his hands to slowly explore your body. His fingers ignited flames on your skin in their path, pleasure and anticipation building inside you. 

The water in the tub swirled violently as Geralt lifted you into his arms, moving you to sit on his lap as if you weighed nothing. You clung to his shoulders for support, feeling his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your hips. But it didn't hurt, at least not in a bad way. It was a pleasant ache that made you feel alive. Just like his kisses, which trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Geralt's kisses continued their way down and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his when his lips closed over your nipple. You pushed your chest into him instinctively, giving yourself to him as one of your hands got lost in his hair. Pure pleasure traveled through your veins as his tongue played with your breasts, giving attention to one before moving on to the other. He held you tightly against his body, one strong arm stretched across your back while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his growing erection. 

You both moaned as your cunt made contact with his cock. The sensation you felt when the tip brushed against your little bundle of nerves was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure was much more intense, much more raw. You could feel it spreading through your body and into your bones. So, naturally, you sought it again, creating a rhythm that had you panting in no time. 

You were forced to stop when Geralt suddenly stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your moan of pleasure turned into a cry of surprise, the water in the tub moving violently, flooding the room as he moved towards the exit. You clung to his shoulders, afraid of falling, as you asked him what he was doing.

"We can't do it here. It has to be done properly, in a bed where you’ll be comfortable, and not in a bathtub full of filthy water."

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you understood the meaning of his words. Once again, Geralt was looking after you, worrying about you and your well-being more than any other man in your life had ever done. He wanted to make things right, to make sure that your first sexual encounter was a positive experience. And while he wasn't exactly the man you had imagined doing it with, he was quite close to it. Every thing he said, every gesture he made to you, made you feel more confident in your decision.

Geralt carefully laid you down on the bed, making sure you were comfortable before continuing his assault on your body. He kissed you again and, as you let his tongue explore your mouth, you couldn't help but think how much bigger he felt now that he was leaning over you. He had one arm on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush you with his weight. One of his toned legs rested in between yours, keeping you open and exposed to him. You were essentially trapped under his body, completely at his mercy, and you liked it.

The pleasure building up inside you was starting to feel too overwhelming. As much as you enjoyed Geralt's wet kisses, you needed more. You needed relief. So you pushed your hips into him once more, seeking that intoxicating pleasure you'd felt in the bathtub. Your wet pussy slid easily up his thigh and a wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

"Fuck!" Geralt moaned as he felt your wetness trickling down his leg. You looked so sensual moving your hips against him with adoring desperation, struggling to find some relief. The little moans that fell from your lips in between ragged breaths drove him crazy, making it difficult for him to control his instincts. He had to be gentle with you, it was your first time and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pin you down and fuck you until your legs shook.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever touched yourself?" Geralt spoke against your skin as his lips continued their path of wet kisses down your body. "Perhaps when you were alone at night, hidden in the darkness of your chambers."

It took you a few seconds to process Geralt's words, your mind distracted with the way his kisses slowly trailed down your chest, barely pausing on your breasts before continuing to travel down. It made your body tremble with anticipation, wondering what he was up to. He was watching you from his position on your abdomen, lips barely pulling away from your skin so he could observe your face more comfortably, waiting for an answer. The color of his eyes had darkened, the yellow glowing like the flames of the candles that lit the room. There was hunger in them. Geralt was looking at you like a wolf at its prey. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, managing to answer him with a simple negative shake of your head. 

"So you don't know what real pleasure feels like, huh?" You weren't sure if it was a question for you, but you shook your head again anyway. You felt Geralt's lips curving into a smile against the sensitive skin of your lower belly and a shiver ran down your spine when you heard his next words. "I'm going to change that."

Despite the firmness in his voice, Geralt was slow and gentle with each movement he made next. He was careful to position himself between your legs, pushing them open and revealing your most secret part to his hungry gaze. He noticed almost immediately the way you tensed with embarrassment, feeling vulnerable, so he was quick to spread sweet kisses on your right thigh, while gently caressing the skin of your left. He could smell the scent of your arousal with every breath he took. It was intoxicating, the sweet nectar he had been waiting to taste all this time. But first he had to make sure you were comfortable. He was there to pleasure you, nothing mattered if you didn't enjoy it.

"It's okay, my sweet. You don't have to be ashamed, you're beautiful." He spoke against your skin, his voice a raspy, sensual, whisper. "I have to get you ready for my cock, all right? This will feel so good, I promise. But if it doesn't, I want you to tell me, can you do that?" You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes, Geralt, I will."

"Good."

Geralt gave you a few seconds to relax before diving into your cunt, spreading wet kisses down your inner thighs as he got closer and closer to the place where you needed him most. When his tongue finally made contact with the sweet nectar trickling down your folds, he let out a sound that vibrated in his chest with force. All hint of self-control disappeared then, buried under the primal desire that the taste of your arousal awakened in him.

He ate you like a starving man, his tongue exploring your most intimate place with expert skill. Your hips jolted as his lips closed over your small bundle of nerves, your whole body convulsing as you felt pleasure like you had never felt before. It was so intense it was almost too much. It scared you in a way, as it felt like your own body didn't respond to you —like it didn't belong to you. It belonged to Geralt now, and only responded to the stimulation he gave your body.  You were torn between the need to pull away from his entrancing lips —which were no doubt uttering some spell to claim ownership of your innocence— and your body's carnal desire to surrender to his clever tricks in order to continue to feel such pure pleasure.

"Does it feel good, princess?" Geralt spoke between your legs, his warm breath crashing against your pussy and sending shivers down your spine. 

"Yes! So good... please don't stop." You didn't recognize your own voice as you spoke. It sounded raspy from all the moaning, and there was a hint of desperation you'd never heard in yourself before. It wasn't the first time you had begged someone for something you wanted, but it was the first time you actually meant it.

"I won't, I promise. I'm here to make you feel good." Geralt assured between slow, long licks, focusing his attention on your clit before continuing. "But if you're going to take my cock, I'll need to stretch your tight hole." You tensed again and once more he used his strategy of stroking and kissing your thighs to calm you down. You knew that penetration was an important part of the whole thing and you were ready to face it, but still, the unknown scared you a little. "I'm going to insert a finger inside you, is that all right my sweet? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will feel great afterwards. But first I have to know that you still want this."

"Yes, Geralt, I want this. I trust you, please." You gave him a shy smile, looking at him with complete admiration. He saw the desire in your eyes, mixed with anticipation and a hint of fear. But you were confident in your decision, so he continued.

"Relax, I'm going to take care of you." He murmured against your skin, his kisses slowly moving closer to your wet cunt. "Just focus on the pleasure."

Geralt's voice echoed in your mind, your body obeying his commands as if he had cast a spell over you that left you with no other choice. You focused on the fire burning inside you, on the skillful way he flicked his tongue against your abused bundle of nerves and on the knot in your stomach that tightened with each passing second. You tried not to tense up as you felt Geralt's finger press against your entrance, biting your lip and taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. His tongue was doing a good job of distracting you, but you could still feel the slightly painful drag of his finger inside you. 

"You're doing so well for me." Geralt complimented you, keeping his finger still inside you to give you time to get used to the new sensation. You couldn't hide how much it pleased you to hear those words, because your walls clenched around his finger, revealing your deepest desires. Geralt grunted against your pussy, fantasizing about how good your tight hole would feel around his cock. 

It took you a moment to get used to the strange sensation of his intrusion. It wasn't painful exactly, mostly uncomfortable since your walls weren't used to stretching like that. But eventually the discomfort faded into pleasure, bringing new sensations as he slowly began to move his finger inside you. 

Your moans became uncontrollable, increasing in volume with each of Geralt's caresses. If you weren't so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would have worried about the possibility of being overheard by some servant or guard walking down the corridor. You knew it might potentially ruin your reputation, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the way Geralt's long, thick finger stretched you, making you feel full in the most pleasurable way possible. 

"Geralt I-" You tried to speak, but the air caught in your throat as you felt the knot in your stomach becoming incredibly tight, threatening to snap.

"I know, my sweet, I know." Geralt interrupted you as he noticed your trouble forming coherent sentences. He could sense you were getting close to relief in the way your walls tightened around his finger, your juices dripping down your legs and soaking his hand. "Just let yourself go. I've got you."

Geralt added another finger inside you, stretching your walls even further. He was careful, his movements slow and precise as he both prepared you for his cock and brought you closer to the edge. His mouth focused on your clit, his lips closing around your sensitive pearl as his fingers explored your insides, reaching that spongy place deep inside you and rubbing it until your whole body shuddered with your orgasm.

It felt like your insides exploded, the tension that had been building in your core suddenly snapping as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your mind went blank, eyes rolling back as Geralt did his best to hold back the violent spasms of your muscles. 

And then your body fell limp on the sheets. You could barely hear the world around you over your racing heartbeat that throbbed in your ears. You knew Geralt was muttering things against your skin as he kissed his way back up, but your mind was too lost in the pleasure to make sense of his words. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, your body desperate for oxygen as it struggled to regain control.

"There you are!" Geralt gave you a soft smile as you opened your eyes, his face slowly coming into focus on your clouded vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine! That was..." you paused, searching for the words to describe it. Although explaining your feelings proved to be more difficult than you expected. You were convinced that there were no words in any language you knew to describe what he had made you feel. So you let out an airy laugh, hiding your face in his neck and spreading small kisses over his skin.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" Geralt asked you, pulling away from you a little so he could look into your eyes. You kissed him back, tasting the sweet flavor of your arousal on his tongue. It was strangely erotic for you to feel your own essence on him, like a mark that, though temporary, showed to whom his lips belonged. It sent a rush of desire and confidence through your body, igniting the fire inside you once more.

The pressure of his cock was nothing like his fingers. While the stretching sensation was not completely foreign to you, Geralt's cock was much longer and thicker than his fingers so it hurt a lot more when he began to push it into you. The mixture of your arousal and his saliva helped his member slide more easily through your walls, but you still couldn't hold back the whine of pain, which vibrated against Geralt's lips. 

"It's all right... you're all right. Just a little more." He crooned as he rested his forehead against yours. His fingers caressed the skin of your hip, giving you comfort as you clung to his shoulders. "You're doing so good for me, my sweet." His voice was soft, but erratic, laced with the clear pleasure that sliding so torturously slow inside your tight walls brought him. 

Geralt remained immobile once he bottomed out, spreading kisses all over your face and neck as he gave you time to adjust to his size. It was the hardest task he had ever had to do in his life. Facing any monster was easier than staying still when your warm, wet walls wrapped around him so well. He was desperate to move, pull out of you almost completely only to slam back in, thrusting his hips against yours as he pinned you against the bed. But it was your first time, so he had to be gentle with you. You weren't ready for that kind of rough loving, so Geralt pushed his dark desires aside and waited for you to give him the signal to move. 

After a while, your moans of discomfort turned into whimpers of protest, not from pain, but from the growing fire inside you that wasn't being tended to. You experimentally moved your hips against Geralt's, just to see what it would feel like. It was a small movement, but it was enough to push his cock deeper inside you, sparking a pleasurable tingling sensation that spread throughout your body. So you did it again, moving with more confidence this time. And again, only this time, Geralt met you halfway, grinding his hips against yours.

Your walls tightened around his cock and the growl that escaped his lips was so deep and primal that it almost pushed you over the edge once more. Something about knowing that you were the cause of those moans, that your body, your pussy, your caresses, were responsible for such reactions was so arousing. Knowing that even though you were inexperienced you were able to elicit such pleasure in him made you feel more comfortable and confident. You were turning his world upside down as much as he was turning yours.

"You look so beautiful like this." Geralt said as he slightly increased the rhythm of his hips. "So small and fragile underneath me, eyes filled with lust as you try your best to take me in your tight hole." 

You moaned into his mouth, desperately searching his lips for something to keep you grounded as pleasure took over your body and mind. Your cunt clenched at his words, finding the mix of softness and roughness in his action incredibly arousing. His hips moved against yours in a consistent and deep, yet slow and sensual rhythm. His calloused fingers roamed over your body, caressing you in such a subtle way that it gave you goosebumps. His filthy words perfectly balanced flattery and roughness, awakening feelings you didn't know you had. It was all a dangerous, overwhelming mix, slowly getting to you close to the edge.

"Does it feel good? Do you like feeling me deep inside you?" You could only moan incoherently in response, hiding your face in the crook of Geralt's neck as your nails dug into his back. "I like it too. You feel so good wrapped around me, my perfect princess."

"Yes, I'm yours! I'm all yours, please..." You begged, for what, you weren't sure. But that didn't really matter, you just wanted Geralt to do whatever he wanted with you. You knew there was no future in your relationship, but this was no time to think about tomorrow. At that moment you were giving yourself body and soul to him, allowing him permission to use and explore your body as he wished.

"Yes you are, but not just for tonight." Geralt moaned in your ear, his voice a deep hoarse whisper. He sucked a mark just below your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive area playfully before continuing to speak. "You will always remember this night and think of me when your future husband takes you to bed on your wedding night. He's not going to compare to me... to how good I'm making you feel. But that's fine, because at least you had a chance to know what it feels like to be adored like you truly deserve, my princess."

"Fuck, Geralt! I'm-" Your warning was interrupted by a moan as you felt him sink his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck at the same time he pushed his member incredibly deep inside you.

"I know, I can feel you squeezing me so tight. It's alright, just let go for me, my sweet. I want to feel you as you come undone on my cock." 

His hand traveled south, calloused fingers pressing against your abused bundle of nerves, drawing circles over it. The way your pussy clenched around his cock made it hard to focus, his own orgasm approaching with alarming speed. But he kept a steady rhythm, his hips moving in a slow, sensual way to make sure his cock brushed that special place inside you without causing you any pain.

"That's it, keep making those pretty notices for me. You're doing so good for me, my beautiful, perfect, princess. Just let go, I've got you. You're safe with me, just let go."

It was the softness in his husky voice that finally pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Geralt's name was the last thing you uttered before the world around you disappeared behind the waves of pleasure. It was a pathetic whimper, a plea for mercy as you felt frightened by the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Geralt was sure he had never heard a more sensual melody. The way you had uttered his name just before the pleasure exploded inside you was something he was never going to forget.

"That's it, my sweet. You did such a good job for me." He complimented you, slowing down the rhythm of his hips to give you time to recover. "You're alright. I'm here, I've got you. Just breathe... that's it." 

Geralt's voice helped you refocus on the real world, his sweet kisses slowly lifting the fog that clouded your mind. You could still feel him inside you, his cock throbbing desperate for relief. The shallow thrusts weren't enough and you needed to feel him falling apart inside you. You needed to know what it felt like to have a man —and especially him— come inside you. And you knew it was safe with him since witchers were incapable of fathering children as a result of their mutations.

"Geralt, please... I want to feel you." You managed to say between gasps, locking your legs around his hips to keep him in place, pressed inside you. He let out a deep growl as he understood the meaning behind your words, his eyes darkening with lust. You were definitely going to be the death of him.

"Of course, my sweet, how could I deny you anything?" He murmurs against your lips, slowly increasing the rhythm of his hips. "You want to feel my seed deep inside you, is that it? You want me to fill you up, leave a part of me inside you so you won't miss me so much when I'm gone?"

His words alone were enough to ignite that flame inside you again. Your body was tired, but still screamed for more. Geralt's thrusts became erratic with each passing second, desperate to reach his own relief. And in the search for his pleasure he was taking you with him to a new limit. 

"I will give it to you, my princess. I will give you all of me. I could never deny you anything, my sweet, beautiful girl."

His sweet words contrasted with the harshness of his movements, hips crashing against yours in desperate thrusts. He was getting closer to his relief and he could feel in the way your cunt clenched around his cock that you were too. His thumb focused on your clit once more, one, two, three strokes accompanied by his thrusts and you were crying his name again. But he didn't get to enjoy much of the way you tightened around him, because he came seconds later, shooting his load deep inside you.

Geralt collapsed on top of you, his body crushing you against the bed as you both tried to catch your breath. But even though he was much bigger than you, it wasn't an uncomfortable position. The weight of his body felt comforting against yours. You liked the way he hid his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. It gave you the opportunity to stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair. It felt intimate, in a completely different way than the sex you'd just had. 

You whined in protest as he rolled to the side, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his sliding down your legs now that his cock had left you. It was a strange sensation to feel empty without him inside you. You didn't know such a feeling was possible, for you that used to be normal, the only way to feel. But now that you had had Geralt buried deep inside you, that you had felt his seed filling you to the brim, you would always be aware of that strange emptiness between your legs.

"How are you feeling?" you heard him say and you struggled to open your eyes, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a cloth in his hand, and you wondered when he had moved from your side without you noticing.

"Great! That was... great." You mumbled, still unable to find an adequate word to describe how good he had made you feel.

Geralt gave you a small smile before lowering his face to your legs, placing small kisses on your skin as he moved closer and closer to your center. "Open up for me, my princess. I need to clean you." 

You reluctantly complied, feeling much more exposed and vulnerable now that the deed was done. However, he was gentle with you, moving carefully as he cleaned you so as not to irritate your sensitive, abused cunt. And when he was done, he kissed his way down your face, caressing your skin with his lips, culminating his journey in your mouth.

"What about you?" you tried to sound casual as you spoke, though you failed miserably. "Was it... good for you too?" You immediately regretted your choice of words, worrying that you had ruined the moment.

"I thought I had been quite clear if not with my words, with my actions at least." Geralt let out an airy laugh and you followed suit, feeling a little more relieved. 

Then the room fell into silence. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable one, but a peaceful one. You got lost in Geralt's eyes, admiring the yellow glow that was much softer now, though just as captivating. The candlelight reflected in them in a special way, highlighting their unique beauty. You could stare at them for hours if it weren't for the tiredness that was slowly beginning to take hold of you. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes until you felt Geralt move beside you. You stopped feeling the weight of his body on the bed, so you opened your eyes immediately. Your hand flew to his arm, fingers closing around his wrist. "Please don't go," you begged as you saw that he had sat up in bed. "I want you to stay with me tonight."

Geralt smiled, the corners of his lip curving slightly upward as he reached out with his free arm to grab the blanket that had been left forgotten at the foot of the bed. His eyes lowered to your hand and his expression turned hard as he noticed the ligature marks on your skin. He hated to know the horrible treatment that someone as delicate and beautiful as you had to go through at the hands of those bandits. Even though he had rescued you before something even worse happened to you, as he looked at the marks on your wrists he feared he had not been quick enough.

Noticing the change in his expression, your eyes followed Geralt's gaze with curiosity. You felt embarrassed when you realized what he was looking at with such intensity and released his grip on his arm, seeking to hide your injured wrist. But he didn't let you. Geralt intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lips. His eyes didn't break contact with you as he scattered delicate kisses over the irritated area of your wrist, showing you that you had nothing to be ashamed of with him.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to, my princess. I'm here to serve you tonight." Geralt said as he lay down next to you once again, covering you both with the blanket.

You took advantage of his words and his desire to please you by curling up against him, resting your head on his chest. Geralt wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you even tighter against his body as he let his fingers trace invisible patterns on your skin. It was extremely relaxing, his gentle touch and the warmth of his body enveloping you was exactly what your tired mind needed to rest. All the fear, the terrifying memories of your attackers and the feeling of danger completely disappeared as he held you in his arms. 

"Good, because I feel safer when I'm in your arms." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, feeling sleep slowly overcome you.

It was hard to say goodbye to Geralt when the time came for him to leave. He had only stayed at the castle for a couple of days at your father's insistence, but that had been more than enough for you to grow fond of him. He was not a very talkative person, but that only made your conversations more interesting. He was intriguing, a closed book that only opened with the pronunciation of the right words. You had fun unraveling some of his history, hearing about his adventures and the monsters he had faced. He was definitely the most interesting man you had ever met - far more interesting and noble than most of the men who were competing for your hand in marriage. And now you had to see him go.

You always knew that your days were numbered, that Geralt would eventually leave and you would have to go back to reality. You thought you could do it, enjoy his company and the illusion of freedom you had created with him and then say goodbye as if nothing happened, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about his departure. Especially because you didn't know if you would ever see him again. Maybe on your wedding day, if you invited Jaskier to play at the festivities he would bring him as security again. Or perhaps, if the kingdom was haunted by some evil creature he would find his way back to you. But nothing was certain and that made you feel quite sad.

"I guess this is our goodbye." You watched Geralt settle his horse's saddle, tucking away his swords and clutching his bag as he prepared to leave. You tried to hide the grimace of sadness that wanted to form on your face, but the disappointment in your voice betrayed you. "I'll never see you again, will I?"

Geralt stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes. You could have sworn you saw a glint of sadness in the golden fire of his irises, though it disappeared as he blinked. "It'll probably be a while, yeah." He sighed. "But nothing is set in stone. Maybe the search for a job will bring me back down these roads."

You smiled. Even moments before he left, he was still making an effort to make you feel good. "I'd like that." You took a couple of steps closer to him, taking his hand in yours to feel his skin against yours one last time. "The gates of this castle will always be open to you, Geralt of Rivia. And as long as I am alive, you will always find safe passage through these lands."

"Thank you, your highness. It is an honor." He bowed slightly even though he knew it was not necessary. Formalities had been forgotten between you since your night together. Then, he took your hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips caressed your skin gently, planting a soft kiss of farewell. "Until we meet again."

You held back the urge you had to taste the flavor of his lips one last time, knowing that there were too many eyes around you that would deem such behavior inappropriate. And perhaps they were right, after all, a respectable maiden like you, in search of a husband to marry and rule with, could not be seen kissing anybody. You knew you would probably regret it for the rest of your life —especially if Geralt never stopped by again—, but it was the right thing to do. Your days of freedom were over, now you had to resume your responsibilities as a princess and that meant holding back the urge you had to run after Geralt, get on his horse and let him take you wherever he wanted. So you just watched him leave, seeing how his figure became smaller and smaller on the horizon while you wished with all your soul that fate would cross your path again.

[bimrwolf]

Healing Hands by the Fire

geralt of rivia x afab!reader words: 3,684 warnings: smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; squint and you may see a casual plot summary: Geralt visits Reader, a healer, with severe injuries. a/n: very out of my comfort zone. however, i promised my friend to write this as her christmas present because writing fanfics are my love language. good thing i know basic things about the witcher heheehe.

How did she always end up here? Months without a word or seeing him. She had accepted the peace. Only occasionally did she perk up when there was a knock on her door, secretly hoping it was him. But only one could be so lucky. Instead, it was travelers from all over the Continent who heard word of her abilities.

She couldn’t complain. Healing others in exchange for seeds, food, and sometimes money. Not that it was required for her service but she couldn’t complain about the gratuity.

In fact, she enjoyed helping others. However, it was nearing winter and there were less travelers. They were most likely home to prepare for the violent winter storms that damned the Continent. 

It was one of the first snow falls of the season. She had finished feeding the chickens and her horse Atticus. That was always her nighttime routine. Feed the animals, make some tea, study until all the tea is drunk, and finally get ready for bed. 

Some might think the routine would get tiring, but there was never any guarantee. It was the one consistent thing in her life at the moment. She was content. 

However, some nights, she heard the enchanted chimes outside that let her know someone was approaching. But before she made it to the door, it swung open, snow flurries drifted inside. The cold was sharp and pricked her nose, making her sniffle. 

In most cases she would be alarmed. There was no telling what creatures or people were harmless and which ones weren’t. She clutched the nearest thing to her— a broom that always gave her splinters when she used it. 

His snow white hair peeked from under his hood and she recognized the distinct low grumble that could be mistaken as a quake. He slowly closed the door, ensuring it was locked this time. “You startled me.” She said, releasing her grip from the broom, checking her hand for any loose wood. 

“You should keep the door locked. What if I was a dangerous man breaking in?” She played it off as a joke, not seeing the concerned look on his face. 

“Some might say you are dangerous.” She smirked. She never expected him to react to her jokes, but she could feel the warmth blanket around her when his shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to stand there all night?” 

He limped further into the cabin. She could see the snow melting on his cloak, dripping on her floor. “You made a mess,” she huffed. 

His head lifted and cat-like eyes met hers. It was known his abilities and job forced him to lack showing how he felt. But, she noticed right away how his eyes drooped that he was in pain. 

She ran towards him, immediately untying his cloak so that it dropped to the floor. She gasped at the large claw marks scratched into his chest. He could withstand most injuries but the cuts had broken past the many layers of skin. 

“Fuck, Geralt. What happened?” Her finger ghosted over the wound on his shoulder. Almost immediately he grabbed her wrist. But she didn’t pull away. 

“I’m starving.” He took a moment to look her up and down before letting go of her wrist and walking past her. 

Unbelievable. She scoffed and followed him into her den. “Are you serious? Geralt, you’re hurt and need to be healed before you get an infection.” 

“I smell meat pie. Do you have any to spare?” He left no time for her to answer. He grabbed the plate on a table and began to shove them in his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction. 

She wanted to be annoyed, but she had never seen him act this way. So instead she watched as he stuffed his face. He sat down slowly in a wooden chair. His large body mass made it creak, rocking it with the sound of the crackling fire. His spastic breathing mellowed out into a deep sigh.

He was definitely hurting from his wound but there was something else. She could sense that something was bothering him. Yet, she didn’t pry for an explanation. Instead, she let him watch the fire as she gathered her supplies of elixirs and jars. Then she picked up the pot full of water hanging above the fire and poured it into a bowl. The steam warmed her face that was still cold from earlier. 

“Are you still hungry? I think I only have bread.” She sat her things on the table next to him, but not looking in his direction. However, she could feel his piercing eyes watching her every single move. “If you’re not feeling like bread I can stay up and make you soup.” 

His hand flew to her wrist. She jumped, nearly knocking over a bottle with green shiny liquid. She turned her head slightly, sighing deeply. “It hurts,” Geralt mumbled. 

His wound was red, inflamed, and looked worse in the light. And if Geralt says it hurts then it was worse than she had imagined. “Take your tunic off while I prepare.” Although it was her giving the instruction, she couldn’t help the heat on her cheeks arise. Especially when he did what he was told. She had only seen his bare chest a handful of times, but each time made her stomach knot up. 

He took a heavy breath as he settled back into the chair, wincing when she placed a hot cloth on his open wound. His nails dug into the chair. His teeth clenched as he threw his head back. She couldn’t help but giggle. In return, he snapped his head to look at her, visibly annoyed. “What?” 

She swatted him for the rash reaction. “No need to be hot headed, Geralt. I was only laughing because I’ve never seen you act so dramatic.” 

“I’m not being dramatic,” he argued. He winced again when the cloth touched his skin once more. He rolled his eyes when he noticed the smirk she tried to hide from him, her hair covered her face. Not thinking, he took his finger and pushed it out of the way so he could see her more clearly. 

She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach or how her chest was breathing differently. She even tried to look away subtly but the only thing she could look at without being suspicious was his bare chest. “How’s Yennefer?” 

The change of subject was almost as if she had poured salt into his fresh wounds. He yanked his hand away and turned his head to face the fire, jaw ticked. She should’ve felt guilty for bringing up his on and off lover. Instead, she felt relieved his attention was no longer on her and probably wouldn’t be the rest of the night. 

That’s how it always went. He would get too close and right before she fell under his spell she would mention the other woman. She had only met the sorceress once. They neither liked or disliked one another. Yet, she could tell there would not be any attempts to go frollicking in a field like they were the best of friends. 

In some ways, she had been jealous of Yennefer– she was interesting and traveled the Continent and had fought in many wars. She was beautiful and cunning. Of course Geralt would pick her as a lover. 

“Ow.” Geralt grimaced, shifting in the chair. Her fingers were touching the wounds, and spreading them apart. “Are you about done? I’m tired.” 

She continued to inspect his wounds closely, having to push between his legs to get a closer look. “I have to ensure there are no severe damages so I know what to make.” His huff made her roll her eyes. She wanted to swat him for still acting like a child. “Whatever got you, got you good, eh?” 

He looked away then back at her, swallowing. “Yes, I suppose.” 

There was a beat of silence. Only the fire was popping. 

“I thought I was goin’ to die.” He said out loud in a low whisper. Almost like he didn’t want her to hear him.

She stopped briefly to look up at him. He was serious. “Well, fortunately whatever it was missed your heart by a hair.” She pointed to where his heart was and traced a line to the start of one of the scratches only millimeters away. She got up, leaving him with a witty smile as she started to pour the many different potions into a different bowl. 

“Me and Yennefer haven’t spoken in months,” he admitted. 

It was hard not to react, but she had never seen him willingly talk about the woman before. “Oh.” 

“We wanted different things I suppose,” he continued. “If it weren’t for Ciri’s letters, then I wouldn’t even know if she was still alive.” 

“You miss her?” It was meant to sound like a question, but it came across as a statement. 

He looked down at his hands, ashamed. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to miss someone.” 

“Are you not allowed or are you unsure you know what it’s supposed to feel like?” 

He didn’t answer. 

She walked back and found her place again between his legs. “Missing someone feels like always looking at the door when there’s a knock, and your heart skips a beat, hoping it’s them.” She dipped her finger in the cream she had made and started to apply it to the open wound. 

“I don’t live in a cottage with a door.” His hands creeped to his thighs so they brushed her as she moved. 

She finished with the first cut and moved onto the second, which was much deeper and longer. “Well, missing someone can also feel like wanting to cry even when you’re happy.” 

“You do know I have emotions?” He quizzed her. 

She smirked. “Of course I do. I was only trying to help you figure out if you miss Yennefer.” 

He hummed, running a finger over the first wound she had treated which was starting to already heal. His skin attaching itself together again. “I miss her, but not in the way you think I do.” 

“Then in what way?” She raised her brow, clearly confused as to what he meant. 

He didn’t answer her right away. “Not in the way I miss you.” 

The bowl in her hand nearly clattered to the floor. She froze, replaying the words over and over as if she hadn’t heard him. Did Geralt really admit to missing her? No, he doesn’t actually mean it. He was messing with her. “That’s not funny.” Her breath was shaky. In fact, her hands were shaky too as she tried to continue healing him. 

“Did I make a joke?” His tone was unwavering. He placed his hand on her warm cheek, brushing his thumb over her soft flesh. He had never touched her so intimately like he was now. 

She shook her head, using her free hand to brush him away, focusing on the rest of his injuries. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delusional.” 

“I thought your potions helped with that?” 

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, briefly, before averting them back to the bowl. She swooped the last of the cream on her finger and spread it slowly over the last scratch. The others had closed up but one could make out the red scar. “Those will go away in due time,” she mumbled. 

As she tried to get up he caught her arm, standing up with her, and in doing so their chests were against one another. He could feel her heavy breathing. And she could feel the warmth from his body electrifying hers. 

“I should go make your bed. You need to rest.” She tried to walk away but his grip never left her arm. “Geralt.” 

He took the bowl from her hands and placed it back on the table. “How much longer will you deny it?” 

She swallowed the gasp that had almost escaped her, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” Finally, she had pulled away but made no efforts to leave the room, only stepping back to make space between them. And of course he could probably read her like an open book while she only had his stoic expressions to decipher. He opened his mouth, but closed it, sighing loudly. “Thank you, Y/n.” 

Her face softened. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you. In fact, I don’t know what I would do without you.” His jaw slacked, watching her intensely. 

She could feel the pull, like a magnet, all too familiar when it came to Geralt. Normally, she had to ignore it. But at that moment, it felt like a boiling pot of water, steaming and bubbling, unable to contain itself. And as she looked into his piercing eyes, the knot in her stomach told her it was time to say something. “Geralt.” Her voice was above a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?” His expression never faltered. 

She shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “I… I um… I’m making oat porridge in the morning.” She had decided it was best to hold back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll go prepare your room.” 

His yellow eyes narrowed, searching for hers. She knew he was watching the emotions swirl through her mind. She knew that he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted to say to him. “No.” He was assertive and the growled vibrations dragged along her back like a dagger, giving her chills. 

Ignoring the goosebumps along her arms, she ran her hand over her face. “What do you want me to say?” She felt like a twig that had snapped. “Why are you being mean? You stand there forcing a confession out of me. A confession you will never get because there’s nothing to say.” Her tears burned in the corner of her eyes. She hated how foolish she looked in front of him. Crying and blubbering because he decided to dig deeper. 

They had a routine. He would knock on the door and she would heal his wounds. Their deep conversations were rare, and sometimes he wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes he would leave in the morning without a word. So why must this time be any different than the others? 

“You’re angry.” 

She scoffed. “Yes, I’m angry.” Unable to face him, she turned to look at the fireplace, shaking her head. “That’s the most frustrating part of all of this. I’m angry that you’re here. I’m angry that I don’t see you for months with no word if you’re even alive. I’m angry that you show up when I’m missing you the most.” Her eyes caught his, her nostrils flared. She had had enough of it, storming up to him and putting a finger against his bare chest. “I’m angry that you sit there and touch me and talk to me like we’re lovers. I’m angry that you won’t go to someone else for help. Because I can’t do it anymore, Geralt. I can’t do it.” 

And there it was. Years worth of bubbling water, spilling over the pot and all over the floor. She had made a mess that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to clean up. 

Geralt’s jaw ticked, his eyes scanning her face. “You wish to not see me anymore? Would that be easier?” 

Her finger fell slowly from his chest. Her voice trembled. “It’s easier than caring about you.” 

Geralt brought his hand up slowly to her cheek, brushing his knuckle against a tear. “I am angry at you too,” he whispered. Her brows furrowed, unsure what he meant. “I told you I have feelings too. Yet, you assume I don’t. You assume I don’t care about you either.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you?” 

“Why do you think I keep coming back?” His jaw slacked. 

The tension between them was thick and palpable. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Her heart was torn. Even with the confession, there was no guarantee. He was a Witcher with responsibilities that were not suitable for the life she wanted. She pushed it away, cracking a smile. “Are you saying that you got injured on purpose? So you could see me?” 

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth flickered, leaning his head down towards her. 

“You could’ve died.” She stepped closer to him, tracing her finger of his scars, looking at his lips.

“But I didn’t.” He said against her mouth, finally closing the gap between them. 

He wrapped his arms around her, strong and sure, deepening the kiss. It was gentle but fierce, full of longing and tension that had been built up along the years. It tasted like all the warm tea she had made for him over time. 

When she moaned, Geralt took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, gliding it tenderly and carefully against hers, groaning in satisfaction. He somehow managed to pull her closer as if their bodies weren’t already meshed together.

It was her who broke away first, both of them gasping for air, chests heaving from the heavy kiss. Geralt’s eyes had turned black, his senses heightened, craving more. 

Without a word, she unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her chest as she dropped it to the floor. She kissed Geralt again on the mouth, his neck, and then his chest. She whispered in his ear, “I think I should go prepare your room now.” 

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand to lead him to her room, rather than the room up in the attic that her guests normally stayed in. It was full of knick knacks and books scattered. Her bed was unmade, but neither one of them cared. 

She pushed him on the bed, straddling his lap, peppering kisses all over his chest. If she was smart, she would savor all of it– every kiss and touch. But fuck all of it. She had waited too long to savor it.  She grinded herself against his hardness, smiling against his ear when she felt him jump through his trousers. Something had told her it was too long for him too. 

The rest of their clothes had found a new place on the floor of her bedroom. She was now laying down, Geralt hovered over her, his chain dangled over her face, and his hands roamed over her bare body as she whimpered under his touch. His lips attacked her neck, trailing down her body, relishing every inch. 

“Geralt,” she mewled. 

She felt the vibrations of his chuckle, revitalizing her, the warmth between her legs now ached. “Yes?” He came back towards her mouth, placing a life-wrecking kiss on it. 

She nibbled his bottom lip. “You know.” 

“Mm, I don’t think I do,” he teased. His hand was between her legs, fingers gliding, taunting her. 

She thrusted her hips upwards, forcing friction against her swollen clit, gasping when he slid a finger in her. “I need you.”

The pitiful look in her eyes convinced him enough to give her what she wanted. And because any longer, he felt like he would combust. Geralt pushed her legs apart and then guided his girthy length to her entrance, sliding it in slowly. 

She gasped as he sunk deeper inside her, finally able to marvel all of her. It was sweet like the honey she snuck in his tea. Rich like the pastries she packed in his knapsack whenever he left in the mornings, without saying goodbye because he was afraid he would never leave if he saw her golden smile in the mornings. Yet, he wasn’t strong enough to never come back. 

At first, his thrusts were slow and tender, slipping so deep that his tip reached as far as it could. She gripped his shoulders, nails forming crescents, back arching as he picked up the pace. She wanted to hug him with her thighs, but his hands were sure to keep them open and spread for him. 

The sounds of their sticky skin crashing together blended with their moans and grunts, forming a delectable melody. She pulled him into an open-mouth sloppy kiss, humming. The bed rattled beneath them, his pace was dangerously close to cracking the frame. 

In a swift move, he pulled her up, so that she was straddling him. Their bare chests flushed together, her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering as she bounced on his cock. “I’m… fuck,” she breathed, unable to make the words as it hit her sweet spot. 

“Me too.” He slightly pushed her shoulders back, wanting to see her. His palm cradled her face, swallowing the thickness stuck in his throat. He knew he looked destroyed. He didn’t show how he felt often, but the pent up tension over the year had finally arisen. 

“G…Geralt!” She shouted as her walls closed around him, releasing her orgasm around him, resting her forehead on his chest as he continued to move her up and down. She clutched onto him as if she was about to float away. 

He threw his head back as his cock twitched, finishing, He thrusted through his climax, panting as he slowed to a halt. His senses were still high and could hear the fire still crackling in the den. He could feel her breathing still rugged and hot, sticking to his chest. 

She couldn’t see it but Geralt let a small smile briefly appear as he stroked her bare back. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him, running her fingers through his snow-white hair. “Will you stay one more night?” 

He tilted his head, brows knitted together. “Are you still angry with me?” 

A mischievous glimmer crossed her eyes. “If I am, does that mean you’ll stay?” 

He snickered, placing a peck on her lips, lingering, scared if he were to break away she’d disappear. 

Angry or not, he was going to stay one more night.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡What He Deserves｡⋆.

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!plus size reader

The morning after Bucky claims you, he realises how much he truly loves you

Warnings: implied smut, nudity, mention of claiming, fluff, brief talks about Bucky’s past

WC: 478

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

4k Celebration

Dawn crept over the horizon slowly, the weak winter sun just barely breaking through the curtains on the far side of the bedroom, creating small beams of light that fell over the bed. There were pillows and sheets strewn everywhere, leaving the bed bare save for a singular blanket that covered the occupants.

Bucky had been awake for hours, in fact he hadn’t even fallen asleep. Too overwhelmed with new emotions to even think about shutting his eyes, he had just watched you. You were sprawled on top of him, your naked body fitting perfectly on his own, chest to chest, your legs intertwined with your nose firmly pressed against his collarbone.

The wound on your shoulder was already healing, it would leave a scar but that was the whole point wasn’t it. A perfect circle of small cuts that, if Bucky leaned down and put his mouth to it, would match the pattern of his teeth. Unable to stop himself, he rubbed his thumb against the broken skin and fresh wave of your scent washed over him.

Bucky groaned as he inhaled, the smell of you so raw and untainted it made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Alpha?” Your voice came out as more of a rasp, still thick with sleep.

He winced. “Sorry mega, didn’t mean to wake you.” You hummed and nuzzled further into his warm chest, your hand coming up to rest just over his heart. Bucky smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“’S okay.” You sighed, a happy calmness spreading through the fresh bond. It immediately settles in his stomach, a feeling of peace and home. His grip gets just a little tighter but you don’t fight it, instead your soft body goes completely limp in his arms as you let out a contented mewl.

Snores began to escape your lips once more and Bucky just watched you. This was all he had ever wanted but never thought he could have, or deserved. You were his everything and by the grace of whatever god was out there, you let him worship you and love you with his whole being.

And now you were mated, joined together for eternity.

You chased away his nightmares with a smile, banishing them to a place where they could never hurt him again. You guided him into the light with your laughter, you showed him that touch doesn’t always bring pain. You proved to him that he was more than his past, more than a puppet for someone else’s bidding. 

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He spoke quietly into the early morning light so as to not wake you once more. He let his eyes finally slip shut, content with you in his arms, your scent keeping him grounded.

He couldn’t wait to wake up and start the rest of your lives.

Request: Do you think I could get a a/b/o with either “I burn for you,” or “I love you more than I ever thought possible” with either Kylo Ren or Bucky Barnes?

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017 @beautyb1ade @bitchy-bi-trash @mewlingoizys @queer_poncho @everything-is-awesomesauce @hc-geralt-23 @wisteriia222 @certifiedhunter

[kiritella]

Birds and Stones Excerpt: Her breaths were slow when her hand gripped onto the jagged rocks along the shoreline, vision spotting as she dragged her body out of the frozen water. Her lungs coughed up the remnants of the river behind her, limbs collapsing as they began to lose their feeling. Pins and needles sparked along her body from her fingers and up her arms, down her chest into her feet as her body shivered uncontrollably. It was a good sign, at least, the shivering, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last as a gust of deep winter air cut around her skin. Gravel dug into the palms of her hands as she crawled further out of the water, her feet at last out of the river as the weight of her limbs grew. She fought back the cry breaking against her teeth as pain erupted up her leg, collapsing to her elbows once again as her vision grew darker.

The full story now out on my Masterlist! Follow for more!

[viking-raider]

Soothing A Wolf

Summary: Geralt recalls the memories of a troubled time in his life, while visiting a place that always brought him peace.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning: PG - Fluff, Language, Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Soft!Geralt, Character Death, Projecting, Farm Life, Light Domestic Bliss, Anxiety

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I know I've already written this subject, with A Witcher's Soul, but I've become unhappy with it and decided to give it another try. I'm by far happier with this one. Hope you enjoy!

Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

I do remember bits of my life with her.

You had curled up for a late morning nap, after completing all of your morning chores. The sun filtering through the large window above your headboard. It was warm and pleasant, as you drew to the surface of the waking world. You tried fighting it, wishing for a few more moments of rest, before you had to rise and begin the task of the afternoon chores around your quiet, little farm. However, you were drawn out of your slumber, at the sound of someone's approach into your dooryard.

Sighing, you sat up, taking a moment to fix your hair and smooth your skirts, before standing and going out to find who had decided to visit you. You froze on the porch, watching a huge, black Friesian horse come charging up the well-worn path to your cottage. A muscular, broad shouldered man clad in all black clothing in its saddle, his silvery-white hair tied back in a Rivian style flowing in the breeze created by his haste.

“Geralt!” You called out, as the Witcher dismounted from the horse, Roach. “What are you doing here?” You asked, as he stamped through the drying mud towards you, his pale face pinched and set in an expression more agitated than usual, with a tint of something more you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

The two of you had met nearly fifteen years prior, when you had heard of the White Wolf being in the area and enlisted his help to rid your property of a Graveir that had been threatening it. Not wishing for the alternative, which was moving off the property. You had little to pay him with, offering him the small amount of gold you had. Instead, Geralt had simply asked for a hot meal and permission to camp on your land for the night and use the water from your well, to bathe with after the bloody business of killing the monster.

Naturally, you agreed.

However, after he had killed the creature and washed up to join you for supper, a tension grew between you that popped before the meal ended. Leading to the pair of you being intimate. Ever since, when Geralt was in the area or was taking time off the Trail, he would come to spend time with you. But, you were surprised to see him now, knowing that he should be with Ciri, keeping her safe from Nilfgaard and the Wild Hunt that dogged their heels at every turn.

Instead, he mounted the porch steps towards you, catching you up into his arms.

She smelled like embers.

Geralt buried his face into your neck, taking a deep breath of your skin as he did, drawing in your scent. Your skin had a natural earthiness to it, accompanied by the fresh and calming, citrus-y snap of lemon balm and sweetness of licorice root. He wished many times on many occasions that he could bottle it and take it with him. Always finding comfort, calm and desire in your scent.

Like he had in almost no one else.

“What are you doing here, Geralt? I thought you were with Ciri.” You asked, breaking the silence as you embraced him, pressing yourself against his solid body, feeling the dampness of his clothing, from the sparse rains that had been occurring off and on all week.

“She's safe enough for now.” He mumbled into your neck, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “But, I needed to see you.” He said, pulling away from you, his hands grasping your shoulders.

“Well, here I am, my wolf.” You cooed at him, resting your hands on his sides and staring up into his face. “I didn't know seeing me was such an urgent thing.” You teased, pushing up on your toes to kiss him, knowing there was something deeper bothering him, but knew better than to press the Witcher for information.

Especially in the matter of his thoughts and emotions. He would tell you in his own time.

“Are you staying or are you riding back off again?” You inquired, looking towards Roach, who was grazing in the damp grass of your dooryard.

“I want to stay the night.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders. “If that's all right with you?” He added, softly.

“Nonsense!” You chuckled, slapping him on the chest. “You know you don't have to ask, Geralt.” You assured him, clicking your tongue. “Are you hungry? I was just about to make lunch for myself. I can add a plate for you.” You said, moving away from him, to go back inside.

She used her magic to create elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.

“I could eat.” Geralt replied, following you inside the cozy home, that always brought him peace. “Especially if it comes with a slice of one of your home-made sweets.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you move towards the kitchen.

You looked at him over your shoulder, an impish sparkle in your eye. “I don't have any made.” You told him, coyly. “But, if you behave yourself, perhaps there'll be something after dinner.” You teased with a wink, before rounding the corner into the kitchen.

Going into the pantry, you grabbed a large, earthenware jug, carrying it out and set it on your counter, removing the cork. Taking a whiff of the contents that were inside, your nose was greeted by the sweet aroma of honey and blood-orange mead. You had brewed it yourself. You took down a cup and filled it, taking a wee nip for yourself, before taking it out to Geralt, who had made himself at home. He'd taken his shoes off, but stood before the fire, tossing a log into it.

“You don't need to do that, Geralt.” You frowned, holding the cup out to him. “I could have done it.”

“I know.” He answered, watching the strong flames catch the edges of the wood, before he took the cup from you, taking a deep gulp. “You really should sell your own spirits.” He commented, licking his lips and looking into golden liquid.

“Ha.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “I have enough to do around the farm, Witcher.” You quipped, going back into the kitchen.

Geralt chuckled at you, taking a seat before the fire, flexing his sore toes in the glowing warmth with a soft and tired sigh, while sipping his mead. He listened to you bump about in the kitchen. The opening and closing of the pantry, the thud of cabinet doors shutting, after you searched through their contents. He finished off his mead and set it on the table beside him, before standing and going to the threshold of the kitchen, knowing better than to go into your kitchen, while you were active in it.

You'd chased the Witcher out more than once, with either the rolling pin or a dish towel.

I would have done anything to make her smile.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, cocking his head around the corner to look at you, seeing you wielding a large knife to cut into a small wheel of cheese. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to sit your butt down.” You answered, turning to look back at him. “You rode, god knows how far, to here. So, you need to relax.” You told him, adamantly.

And yet, the day she left me, she was sick. She needed water, so I went to get her some.

“But, I want to help.” Geralt insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

You sighed softly, giving him a gentle smile. “All right, Geralt.” You conceded, nodding. “My other big brute needs to be fed. So, why don't you go out and do that for me, while I finish getting our lunch done.”

“I can do that.” He nodded, daring to step into the kitchen to kiss you on the cheek, chuckling as you popped him on the bum on his way out.

“That, man.” You giggled, smiling to yourself as you turned back to your task.

Geralt tugged his boots back on and went out, heading towards the small fenced off area to the right of your property, where the few farm animals you had lived. He found the bucket beside one of the fence posts and snagged it up by the rope handle, heading towards the grain storage that was around the other side, filling the bucket.

“Hey, Martigan.” He called out to the brown and white dairy cow, standing in the center of the pen, nibbling on a bale of hay with an expression of no care on his face, but twitched his ears to the sound of Geralt's voice. “And you.” Geralt huffed at the animal you had dubbed your other brute, a solid white goat with horns that nearly curved in on themselves, they were so long. “I see you, Goat-Bert.”

The Witcher called to the Goat, who stood clear on the other side of the pen, as he opened the latch to the gate. But that meant nothing, and Geralt knew it. He had dealt with this Goat-Devil before on your behalf. He had even considered taking one of his potions to increase his odds in dodging that swift, easy to anger, creature. Not even Little Bleater was a match for this fiend. So, keeping one golden eye on the Goat, Geralt moved towards the feeding trough and dumped the bucket of grain into it. It wasn't a split second later that Martigan let out a loud, agitated moo and Goat-Bert bleated with his evil intent, setting his head downward as he charged across the muddy pen towards Geralt's shins.

“Fuck!” Geralt barked under his breath, tossing the bucket over the fence and himself with it. “You damned Goat!” He cursed at him, fuming at Goat-Bert rammed his head into the trough, at full steam. But it was your howls of laughter from the porch that drew Geralt out of his choice words for the farm animal. “You find that funny?” He asked, picking up the bucket and moving towards you, as you grinned and giggled.

“I find it hilarious!” You wheezed, wiping tears from your face. “Watching a Witcher jump a fence to get away from a little goat!”

“Now, you know damn well, what mischief that demon can cause.” Geralt told you, but smirked at your amusement. “I don't need Lambert or Eskel busting my ribs, because I got a broken leg because of a wee goat.”

“Well, no harm done.” You said, catching your breath. “And lunch is ready and waiting for us on the table.” You told him, turning to go back inside.

Following you, Geralt was greeted by a laid out table, containing a round and fluffy loaf of bread with a blossom score on the top of its beautiful, caramel-brown crust. Beside the loaf, was a glass decanter of the mead you'd served him earlier, half a roasted and glazed ham hock, that glistened in the light of the fireplace, and a plate of the cheese slices you'd cut. There were other tidbits, to make lunch more pleasant and filling, as well.

“It looks delicious.” He commented, pulling a chair out and sat down.

You looked at him with soft surprise, cocking a brow as you sat beside him. “Ciri and Jaskier must really be leaning hard on your lessons.” You chuckled, picking up a knife and cut a slice out of the bread, laying it on Geralt's plate, before cutting another and putting it on your own. “Would you like a second piece?” You asked him, knife hovering above the loaf.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth, before reaching for the decanter, pouring you both a tankard. “I appreciate this.” He said, watching you cut thick slices of juicy ham from the hock and set them on the edge of his plate, allowing him to build his own sandwich.

“Of course.” You answered, brow creasing as you placed the ham and cheese on your bread, closing it with the second piece, using your knife to cut it in half. “I can't let you starve, now can I? Silly Witcher.” You chuckled, taking a bite.

Geralt hummed, putting together his own meal and allowing the table to fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. Nothing, but the pop and crackle of the fire with the occasional moo or baa of the farm animals outside filled the space. Neither of you moved, once you had your fill, but you watched Geralt, smirking as you saw his lids struggle to stay open and his chin from falling against his chest. You stood, causing Geralt to start and look up at you with wide molten-gold orbs, but you just offered him a sweet smile, as you started to clear away the table, putting things in the pantry, sink or scrap barrel.

Once you were finished, you moved to your bedroom, fluffing your pillows, fixing and folding back the blankets, then pulled shut the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. Satisfied, you returned to Geralt, smirking as you found he had lost the battle with his sleepiness. His breathing was slow, coming out in gentle huffs, arms crossed and chin resting on his chest. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, the muscles under the loose black material of his tunic were slack, making the various scars pull taut. Biting your lip, you moved around him and knelt, taking one of his booted feet in your hands, eyes still trained on his face. In case you startled him, knowing it could cause him to burst into defending himself, when startled awake.

But Geralt didn't stir, as you carefully pulled his muddy boots off, setting them in front of the fireplace. You stood, moving around him to open the knot of the string that held his silvery-white hair tied back out of his face.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his ear, resting your hands lightly on his shoulders. “Geralt.” You said, a little bit louder.

“Hm?” He hummed back, taking a deep breath and shaking his head, causing his loose hair to fall forward.

“Why don't you come lay down?” You suggested, patting his shoulders and kissing the back of his head. “You'll be so much more comfortable in bed.” You persuaded him, gently.

Geralt sighed, licking his lips and stretching his legs for a moment, before standing up and allowing you to guide him to your bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into a chair in the corner and dropped into the bed, looking up at you, as you stood before him.

“Lay with me.” He cooed, resting his hands on your hips.

“I have chores to do, Wolf.” You smirked at him, cupping his neck and caressing his stubbly jawline with your thumbs.

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Geralt said, pulling you between his legs. “I'll do them for you.” He smiled, making you sit in his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Before, I go.” He promised, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“Very well.” You conceded, breaking the kiss and rubbing noses with him.

“Good.” He rasped, laying down and pulling you against his chest.

And when I came back... she was gone.

Geralt woke up sometime later, feeling refreshed. He hadn't slept well or very long in the weeks since he and Ciri left Kaer Morhen, with the Wild Hunt and Nilfgaard after them, worried that every moment his eyes were shut, was a moment they'd come and take Cirilla from him. He reached out for you, wanting to feel you against him, but you weren't in bed any longer.

I called for her.

He got out of bed, calling your name, as he searched the house for you. The fireplace was still roaring, telling him you hadn't been gone long. But where could you be, that you wouldn't hear him calling. He yanked the front door open and stormed into the yard, uncaring that he had no boots on, yelling your name even louder, as he turned in circles. His only answer was the breeze through the trees, Goat-Bert, Martigan and Roach.

Not a peep or appearance from you.

But she was gone.

Geralt felt his chest grow tight and his slow heart skip a beat, then another. The dooryard started to spin and blur, a rock-like lump formed in his throat. He flexed his hands and shook his head, trying to get a handle on himself. He wasn't supposed to act like this. He wasn't supposed to show his emotions, let alone allow them to take control over him.

“Geralt!” You frowned, coming out of the treeline, a basket resting on your hip as you found him standing barefoot in the muddy dooryard. “What's going on?” You asked, setting the basket down and hurrying over to him, as you watched tears drip from his sharp jaw. “What's happened? Are you hurt?” You asked, looking him over, searching for a wound you felt you had failed to notice before.

“Where is it? Show me!”

“I'm not--” He rasped, swallowing at the lump and shaking his head. “You were gone.” He said, pressing his lips together and pushing his jaw forward, trying to bring up his walls against the raw feelings he was being crushed under. “I woke up and you were gone. I called for you.” He said, failing miserably. “But you didn't answer. I thought--” He choked, looking away from you.

You blinked up at him, confused and afraid, never seeing this side of Geralt before. “You thought what?”

He chewed on his lip, his face hardening as he slowly started to gain control of himself again. “I thought you left me.” He admitted, deciding not to shut you out.

“Left you?” You echoed softly, blinking up at him with surprise. “No, Geralt. I'd never leave you. I didn't leave you.” You told him, taking his hand in both of yours. “I just woke up from our nap before you did, and you seemed so tired that I didn't have the heart to wake you. So, I went out to pick some blueberries.” You explained to him, half turning back to where you'd set your basket, full of plump, indigo orbs. “I plan on using them to bake you a pie.” You said quietly, looking back up at him.

Neither of you said anything for a long while, before Geralt looked down at you, a sad look in his eyes.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You assured him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Nodding, Geralt pressed his lips to your forehead and sighed, looking down at his muddy feet. “I'll rinse my feet off.” He said, moving away from you and towards the well.

Watching him go and drop the bucket into the well, you knew the Witcher didn't have the easiest of lives, that he had a lot of trauma in it. But, he would tell you what was bothering him, when he was ready. It seemed too raw, at the moment. So, you went back for your blueberries and carried them inside to the sink, so you could rinse them off, prepping them for the pie.

Deciding to be there for Geralt, when he was ready.

[cosmos-coma]

By Another Name - Part 2

A/N: The much awaited and requested part 2! Sorry it’s been a bit! there's been a lot of staff training and then I got/have Covid so its been a ride.. anyways enjoy!

Pairing: Geralt x reader

WC: 774

Warnings: gn!reader (no pronouns), unbeta’d, mild language

__________________________________________________

The tears glossing your eyes threatened to spill over and made your vision bleary as you walked out into the night, hardly a light to guide you save for the moon shining pitifully down on you. The urge to yell, vomit, and sob swelled and swirled in your head with each intake of breath. “Fuck!” you swore loudly as you stubbed your toe on a rock that, in the heat of the moment, you don't remember being there.

“Y/n…. you shouldn’t go out alone at night… and without light at that.” came Geralt's ever-reasonable voice behind you, along with soft following footsteps. You fucking hated it. 

“Fuck what I shouldn’t do, Geralt!” you yelled, whipping around and pouring all of the pain from both your foot and your heart into your words. “You know what else we shouldn’t do? We shouldn’t fuck Sorceresses! We shouldn’t ask a djinn to TIE YOU THROUGH FATE. How’s that for ‘shouldn’t’, Asshole?!” The tears filling your eyes broke their way past your lashes and finally ran down your face. The bitter and salty taste of tears hit your tongue and lips almost as if to rub in the misery.

Geralt sighed and slowed his pace behind you as he came up closer, leaving a few steps of distance just in case. “ Y/n, what is this really about..?” he asked, even voice just like always. 

Angry and sad tears just kept flowing as you plopped yourself onto the ground, legs laid out in front of you in a frustrated and tired manner. You sat in silence for a minute as you tried to put your nebulous thoughts into something tangible.

 “Why…” you started, eyes drawn to the ground in.. Anger? Sorrow? Tiredness? You weren’t really sure anymore. “Why do you miss her..?” you asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Why do you miss her when you're with me..?”

Geralt’s eyes softened in the moonlight as his shoulders slumped, an unusually heavy sigh coming from him. With quiet steps he came closer, pausing to give you an out before moving to  sit beside you. You hated the way his warmth pulled you in right now but loved the security it made you feel. 

Letting out a heavy shouldered breath he began, “I don't miss her, Y/N… well, maybe I do. I’ve never been good at figuring things out where Yen is concerned.” he started, beginning to  ramble by a witcher's standards. “But I don’t miss being with her. I think… she’s just familiar,” his hand extended out to yours, palm up in an invitation.

Watching him slowly open up this part of himself made you soften a little, and without too much hesitation you slipped your hand into his. Anger still smoldered deep in your core, but was quickly fading as you dwelled on the feeling of his hand around yours.

“I spent so much of my time chasing her around and doing whatever she asked that I just… never realized how little she would to do for me in return.” his detailed eyes watched your hand slip into his, the perfect fit, as the cool touch of your fingertips keept him in the present. “ I was expendable because I was a witcher, everyone knew I would be fine…. But you don't treat me like that. You tell me to be safe on every contract I go on. You check over my wounds every time I come home to you. And you never hesitate to tell me you love me..” He kissed your knuckles and finally looked back up to you. 

Wiping your teary eyes, you could finally see Geralt's small smile facing you. “Oh, Geralt…” 

“You’re the change of pace I didn’t know I needed. So, please don't think I miss her when I'm with you. I think I’m just… still moving past that time…” your witcher finished, his words tinted with a touch of shame that you couldn't help but feel guilty for inciting. 

The embers of frustration and anger had completely subsided now and you flung your arms around him, head burying into his neck as you clung tightly to him. “I’m sorry Geralt… I- I know I kinda overreacted earlier. I was just… I think I was hurt at the thought that you might want more than I can offer, someone fascinating and powerful… But I'm really glad you opened up to me with this.” you said, continuing to nose into the crook of his neck, breathing in his subtle earthly aroma. “I love you so much, my white wolf.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now lets get you back inside...”

__________________________________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Hypothermia - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

angst, hurt/comfort, x gender neutral reader

Word count: 1.8k Warnings: symptoms of hypothermia(?), not proofread.

Summary: Stubbornly insisting to come with Geralt, Reader finds themself becoming hypothermic. They brush their symptoms off, but it's not long before it becomes severe and very, very dangerous.

"You should've stayed at the inn." Geralt muttered under his breath, tugging Roach along with him. His cloak bellowed out behind him as another chilling breeze swept against us.

"I can keep up with you." I huffed, tugging my own cloak tighter around my trembling frame. "Just keep going."

"You realize we're going to be making camp here soon?" He retorted.

"I was trying not to think about that." I mumbled, stumbling over my own feet. I pushed against the snow to get to my feet, grunting in surprise when what I thought was a rock or a log under the snow gave in on me. I stuck my arms out to brace my fall, but still ended up falling onto my face with a disgruntled noise. I saw Geralt offering his hand in the corner of my vision. Ignoring it, I staggered to my feet and brushed the snow off of my damp clothes. I could feel his sharp gaze on me.

The wind continued to yank at my cloak with relentless fingers, never giving up on trying to tear my only protection against the cold away from me. Even through the layers of clothing I had underneath it, I could still feel the cold chill me down to the bone. My teeth chattered, but I clenched my jaw the best I could to silence them. I grit my teeth at the deep pain that had begun to settle into my bones.

It wasn't long before the sun began to set on the horizon, taking what little bit of heat it had provided with it. I shivered violently, unable to feel my extremities. Despite the thick scarf I had eventually wrapped over my face and tucked into my hood, I still couldn't feel my nose. I thought of telling Geralt, but I convinced myself otherwise when the thought of being a burden began to gnaw at me.

I glanced up in confusion when I realized the witcher had been speaking to me. He looked to me with an irritated expression.

"What?" I asked slowly, finding it difficult to form the word in my mouth. I touched a gloved hand to the scarf covering my mouth in confusion

"We're staying here for the night." He repeated briskly. I nodded, my response delayed, and staggered off in a random direction.

"I'll get wood for the fire." I announced, noticing him begin to hollow out a small patch of snow for a fire. He was pitching a single tent as I left; It only made sense to share any heat we could.

I managed to gather enough small pieces to use as kindling, and I stumbled my way back to camp, constantly struggling against the confusion that had begun to creep into my brain. At one point, I found myself wandering off, as if just taking a stroll. I had thankfully realized before I got too far, but I killed too much time.

"He- Oh." I mumbled. He had already gotten the fire started, and was sitting beside it, warming some of our food. I plopped down beside the fire with a small sigh.

"Took you long enough." He muttered. I mumbled out an incoherent apology, pitching to the side. I curled into a ball beside the fire, damp clothes be damned. I let out a shaky breath, the pain crippling me. Despite his complaints earlier, he still offered me some of the food he had brought. I shook my head.

"I'm fine." I ground out.

"You need to eat, to keep yourself warm." He insisted, but he didn't push.

After a long while, like a light switch, the pain stopped. Just like that. I began to fall asleep, my eyes fluttering open when his hand met my shoulder a while later.. "Tent." He said simply. I pushed myself up into a half sitting position with a quiet huff. The side I had been laying on was completely wet, but my other side was dry. I pulled my cloak over the damp side, hoping to hide it from him so he wouldn't make me change. I was too exhausted. I chalked it up to being tired from the day's journey of plodding through the heavy, wet spring snow.

I folded myself down on my side of the tent. Turning away from Geralt, who had already laid down facing away from me, I tugged my gloves off. I frowned at the sight of my gray hands and fingers, suddenly aware that I couldn't feel them at all, nor could I feel my toes or feet, and a good amount of my arms and legs. My eyelids drooped, though, and so I curled up with a small shiver, heaving the spare fur on the ground between us over my half-soaked form. I let out a small sigh, drifting off.

Geralt frowned, listening to their heartbeat. It became fainter and fainter, even to his hearing, and he found himself unable to sleep. Once he was sure they were asleep, he turned to face them, laying under a bundle of furs, ominously still. He listened carefully, suddenly unable to hear their heartbeat. He carefully snuck a hand under the blankets and placed it on their chest, a jolt of fear hitting him when he could just barely feel the rise and fall of their chest as they breathed.

I tossed my head side to side in confusion, everything blurry. I was being shaken awake, and I struggled away from my attacker, disoriented. He kept speaking to me, his voice rising, and I flinched away. A lamp was lit, and I was now able to see his golden eyes reflecting the small flame. I sagged back onto the ground in relief, struggling to breathe and suddenly hot. I began to desperately kick the insulation off of me.

"Don't do that!" Geralt hissed, pulling them back over me.

"It's so hot." I mumbled incoherently, fighting him. I eventually gave up, curling into a small ball under the mountain of covers, and burrowing into them. My breaths were short and very, very shallow. Each one was like sucking in little ice shards. I tucked myself further into the furs, finding that although I felt like I was burning up, even that sensation seemed unimportant right now. My eyes drifted shut.

Geralt dug through the blankets to find me, giving me a harsh shake. I startled, forcing my eyes open. His hand gripped my soaked shoulder, and he cursed under his breath. I struggled to keep my eyes open, blearily Watchung as he hastily dug through his satchel, pulling out a small bottle.

"Drink." He ordered. I didn't protest, downing the contents of the vial as he tilted it up for me. It burned my throat, and I coughed painfully. Eventually, everything numbed, and the feverish heat that had been assaulting me before stopped, replaced by a more comfortable warmth. I felt the witcher pulling at my clothes before I drifted off.

The pain and nausea hit me as soon as I woke, and I was aware of the feeling that had begun to return to my frozen limbs. I shivered, tucking myself further into the warmth at my back with a labored sigh. I felt a warm arm snake around my waist, pulling me closer to Geralt. My mind was still foggy, and so I wasn’t in a hurry to shake him off. I shivered again. They became more insistent the longer I was awake, and soon I was trembling uncontrollably. My entire body was cool, but at least I could feel my limbs now, and I could feel the way my bare legs tangled with his. At the sudden realization, my face probably would have flushed if I weren’t so cold.

My head clearing, I wiggled against his grip, trying to put some distance between us and cling to what little bit of dignity I had left. I froze when I felt him shift, then stretch out his legs, disentangling them from mine. I was suddenly aware of how cold I was without his body heat, shivering even more and tugging the furs tighter around me.

“How are you feeling?” His voice, rough with exhaustion, asked. Embarrassed, I pulled the blanket snug against my bare skin, and turned to him.

“C-cold.” Was all I could rasp out before breaking off into a fit of coughs. He interrupted me with a jar of water. It was warm, and I downed it, sighing gratefully as it warmed me up from the inside. I held the still-warm glass in my hands, gripping onto it with fingers stiffened from the cold. “I’m better.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I’m alive.”

“You almost weren’t.” He said tautly.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come with you.” I apologized.

“You should have listened.”

“I’m sorry, I just..I wanted to help. I feel like I’m such a burden most of the time. I just slow you down - and that’s all I did. Again. Today.”  I shrank into myself at his scolding.

“It’s not your fault.” His voice softened.

“No, I shouldn’t keep coming along if I can’t keep up. I’m sorry I keep forcing myself on you.”

“I want you with me, at all times. At least then, I know you’re safe.” He admitted. “But I can’t be selfish. You can’t withstand the same conditions I can, and that’s when I must leave you behind somewhere safe. But,” His eyes flickered up to mine, a small smile touching his lips. “You’re just so damn stubborn.”

I huffed lightly. “I know.”

“You need to tell me. When you’re feeling weird or sick. If you insist on coming with me no matter what, you can’t hide these things from me. I need you to promise me that.”

"I promise."

"I want you to mean it." He insisted, eyes pleading.

"I promise." I said sincerely, leaning forward to tentatively brush my lips against his; his confession having given me the courage to act.

He made a sort of purring sound, pulling me closer and molding his lips to mine. I sighed when he pulled away, breathless. His golden eyes flickered across my face, satisfaction dancing in them. I gave him a questioning glance.

"You're flushed." He explained. I didn't even notice that I had stopped shivering.

"I'm still cold." I hummed, half-lying.

"I can fix that." He didn't hesitate to bring his lips back to mine.

[joelslegalwhre]

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[rosemary-morgan]

Geralt of Rivia X F.Reader - Fear (Part 3)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Summary: Back in hell, you try hard to not lose your courage and you hope to be free again someday. At the same time, the white wolf wonders if he did the right thing or if he made a terrible mistake...

I’m sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language.

This story can be read as a reader or oc. As you wish my lovely bees 😊🐝 If someone wished to be tagged for upcoming chapters, just let me know

WARNING: 18+!! Domestic violence, rape, angst, hurt, violence, suicidal thoughts! Please do not read this if you feel uncomfortable with these topics.

Read Part 1 / Read Part 2

Fear (Part 3)

"Wonderful! You have brought me my wife! I can't thank you enough!" "Mmm. Now, my reward!" Edmont handed over the small bag of gold. Suddenly, a strange feeling overcame the Witcher. Had he really done the right thing? The look Y/N had given him when she was escorted away by the maid had been heartbreaking. So much fear had been in her eyes. Geralt growled softly, looking down at his hand that held the little bag of florin. Something inside him screamed for him to get Y/N as far away from here as possible. "Witcher! Your work is done. Now, if you will excuse me? Gaston!" Edmont called for one of his servants, asking him to escort Geralt outside. "No need!" And with these last words, Geralt left the Count's estate, but not without looking around for Y/N one more time. Yet she was gone. Why was he suddenly overcome with such remorse? He had fulfilled his mission. No more and no less. And yet he felt the need to become the shadow of the young woman. At least until he could make sure that she was safe.

♦♦♦♦

"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?" Edmont approached her and Y/N instantly backed away, but kept her eyes on her husband. "See what you did to me?" He pointed to his scar that stretched across his eye. "And what did you do to me, Edmont?" The marks had already faded on her body, but her soul still suffered. In addition, there were many other things she didn't even want to mention as she was deeply ashamed of it. "Damn you woman!" he hissed dangerously and venomously at her. "You know you are my property! You are worth nothing in this house! You have to obey me!" But Y/N shook her head and looked up at Edmont, looking into his cold eyes, which met her with hatred. "I'm not your property, Edmont!" But Edmont didn't care what Y/N had to say. He grabbed her arm to drag her out of the room, pulling her toward the stairs that led up to the bedroom. Y/N was struggling against it, knowing what was waiting for her up there. She tried to free herself from his grip, but he had his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. "Let go of me!"

But he continued to pull her behind him. As he walked up the stairs, Y/N tripped over her own feet, causing Edmont to stop for a brief moment. He half-turned to her, growled low, and finally dragged her back up. "Come here! Come on!" "No!" He literally dragged her up the stairs. At the top, Edmont walked straight toward the bedroom, where he pushed open the door and roughly threw his wife to the floor. "I've become a joke because of you! The men and women of this village don't take me seriously anymore! Laughing at me! Mocking me!" And as he said that, he began to unbutton his shirt and move closer to her. Y/N rose, and instantly backed away. "I am the master in my own house! You will not make a fool of me again!" "What are you up to, Edmont? Are you going to rape me again?" But Edmont only laughed mockingly, glaring dangerously at her. "Anything I want, Y/N! You are my property and I'll show you what it means to be my wife!" Y/N immediately grabbed an object near her and threw it at Edmont, but he skillfully dodged it. She screamed at him, threatening to scratch his face into pieces if he dared to touch her again. But Edmont was not impressed by her words. "I'm going to kill you, Y/N! If you dare make a fool of me one more time, I'll kill you!" "You're insane! GO AWAY!" She fought back, but Edmont would not be discouraged from his plan to violate his wife. He reached for her, lifted her over his shoulder, and eventually threw her onto the bed. Y/N tried to punch him and push him away, leaving several scratch marks on his face, but even that didn't stop him. "This is going to be another exciting fuck!" "NO!"

♦♦♦♦

Everything hurt. Her body, her face... She felt nothing at the moment. Except disgust, fear and shame. Here she was again. Back in her hell. She just lay in the sheets that were stained with her blood and she was paralyzed. "Why do you always make it so hard for yourself, huh?" She felt the mattress give way as he lay down behind her. She didn't reply anything, just stared at the opposite wall. "Well, at least you know how much you're worth in this house. Which is nothing at all. And should you disobey me in any way, you will know real pain," he whispered hoarsely to her as he stroked through her silky hair. "The witcher couldn't have made me happier!" And the days that followed didn't get any better for the young woman. Edmont locked her up at home, so she wasn't allowed to go out. Edmont didn't want people to see how he had beaten her up. She couldn't even bear the sight of herself. Her right cheek was adorned with a large bruise that was blue and purple. It hurt like hell. "What the hell did he do to me? I look hideous..." Suddenly an incredible rage came over her at the sight of her own reflection in the mirror. She grabbed the vase that was in front of her and threw it right into the mirror. It broke, but it still didn't change the fact that Edmont was holding her captive here...

The last few days had been very quiet for Geralt. No jobs, no people who asked him to kill any monsters. For this, he had no nerves at the moment anyway. The only thing the monster slayer was thinking about was Y/N. He had not seen her for days. The witcher had been hanging around her house, always careful not to be discovered, but he hadn't noticed anything. It had been quiet, and no sign of Y/N. Perhaps there was some truth in Edmont's story, and Y/N had retreated to secretly pursue her magic. Or maybe Geralt should leave it all behind. After all, their married life was none of his business, but he did not manage to banish Y/N from his thoughts. Geralt looked down at his beer mug, which was still half full. He didn't care much about the noise around him; after all, he was sitting in an inn. He had hardly touched his dinner, he had lost his appetite. And this was going on for two days now. "Hmm..." He grumbled softly. Couldn't she leave him alone for five minutes? Just for fucking five minutes? Geralt had to admit to himself that he had probably made a big mistake. "Master Witcher?" An older woman suddenly stood in front of him. He hadn't heard her at all. Curious, the white wolf looked up at the lady, who was looking at him with concern. Geralt recognized her. She was a maid of Count Edmont. She was there when he brought Y/N back. "I beg your pardon, master witcher," Molly began to speak hesitantly "...but I wouldn't know who else to turn to. I'm one of Count Edmont's maids. I'm here for Y/N." The witcher took a deep breath and exhaled before he moved the stew aside and gestured for her to take a seat. "Tell me," he said, arms folded in front of his chest. "Count Edmont lied to you," Molly started, after hesitantly sitting down at the table with the white-haired man. "What?" Now the maiden confirmed to him that Edmont had made a fool of him. The white wolf felt incredible anger inside him, for he hated being taken advantage of. Molly told him what kind of woman Y/N was and how her husband treated her. She left out no details and told him the whole truth. Everything Molly told him was not to be doubted, because the older woman cried while doing so. For far too long, she had watched the young Y/N being tortured. "I hear her screaming every night, but he won't stop torturing her!" Molly sobbed. No one had been able to do anything for the young woman. Some had tried, but had suffered consequences for it. Even Molly had been pushed down the stairs by Edmont for trying to help Y/N. Molly had been very lucky but she hadn't been able to walk properly since that day, because she had broken her ankle when she fell and it had never healed properly. The facial expression of the witcher became harder, until finally the wooden spoon, which Geralt held in his hand, broke in two with a loud crack. "Please, master witcher. Help her! She does not deserve such a life! Whatever the Count may have told you, he is lying!" The Witcher rose abruptly and was already taking a few steps towards the door. He had heard enough! All the words that had come out of Molly's mouth had been like a violent punch to the pit of his stomach! Y/N, a young woman who had been on the run because she had suffered the cruelties of her husband. Geralt knew he could not fix his mistake, but he would take her away from Edmont. "You should't be seen with me. You should't go back to him either." Should the Count give him a reason to kill him, Molly would no longer have a master to serve anyway. Molly also knew that if Edmont found out about this meeting, she would have to pay with her head. But she just couldn't stand to see Y/N suffer like this anymore. Without another word, Geralt left the inn and made his way to Count Edmont...

♦♦♦♦

Y/N had screamed for Edmont, begging him to finally let her out of this room, but he had completely ignored her. Until finally she had collapsed, exhausted, with almost no voice left. Actually, she could have spared herself this agony. But there was still a spark of hope in her. The fire in her was not yet completely burned out. She felt very weak, since she hadn't eat for days now. But she would manage somehow. Somehow she would escape from this room and thought about crawling out the window. But if she fell, she would hurt herself very badly. And how far would she get with a broken arm or sprained ankle? No, she couldn't risk that. Y/N looked at the shards of the broken vase lying on the floor in front of her. She had some silly thoughts about what she could do with the broken pieces. It would be so easy to end it all here and now like this. "..." Y/N swallowed hard and carefully rose, walking with slow steps to the shattered pieces, and kneeling down to them. Each of them was a large shard of clay, sharp and dangerous. They would easily pierce the delicate skin on her wrists; so easily... As Y/N reached for a shard, she began to sob and then immediately threw it away. She let out a loud, pained scream and only hated Edmont more. He made her do things that would never have come to her mind. Damn him! This monster almost drove her to suicide! And this said monster entered the bedroom the very next moment, finding his young wife kneeling in front of broken fragments. Completely dissolved and crying. And at this sight he was pleased, of course, because he had finally managed to break this proud creature. He went to her and knelt down to Y/N. He stroked through her long hair. "Oh, Y/N. See what happens when you disobey me?" Y/N couldn't even answer him. She was tired of it. She was so tired of his games. She was aware that he was trying to manipulate her, but it wouldn't work. However, Y/N was becoming increasingly aware that she would have to play along if she was going to avoid trouble. Maybe he would finally let her out of the room, since she really longed for fresh air. It was lucky that she had a tub here to wash herself. But that was not enough for her. She wanted her freedom! He couldn't lock her up like an animal! But that's exactly what he did and it was a terrible torture for the young woman. "Come, my dear. You should eat something!" His presence disgusted her, but at the moment she just didn't want any trouble with him. Clearly visible on her cheek was the last outburst of anger from her husband. "Put on something nice and join me. It's been a long time since we last had dinner together." Edmont stood behind Y/N, looked in the mirror and admired his beautiful wife. Y/N turned her eyes away from him, for she couldn't bear that lustful fire in his eyes. "Why don't you put on that red dress? The skintight one? Huh?" He put his arms around her waist, hugged her close and started kissing her face. Disgusted, she closed her eyes, but silently let it happen. "Okay...", she just gave out softly. She would wear the red dress for him, even though she more than hated it. "You and I could have a wonderful marriage. If only you would open up to me, dearest. I don't want to hurt you." Hearing that, she felt the thick lump in her throat. So it was her fault, wasn't it? "Come on, take off your clothes, beautiful. Let me look at you." Y/N hesitated a lot until she finally nodded, blinking away her tears...

"Easy, Roach." Geralt soothingly stroked the mare's face after giving her a juicy apple. The night was rainy and cold. Very uncomfortable. His gaze was directed towards the magnificent house of the Count. It was late at night and the white wolf decided to go to the sleeping quarters of the couple. His thoughts did not let him rest and soon Geralt would see with his own eyes who was really the victim in this story. "You wait here, Roach. I'll be right back!" And that's when Geralt moved away from his horse and pulled his cloak deep into his face to protect himself from rain and prying eyes. The witcher made his way around the building without being seen. He used his senses, trying to locate Y/N by her scent. But the only scent he could detect at the moment was the rain and wet earth. But there was a hint of blood in the air. Not smellable to a normal person, but all the more intense to a witcher like Geralt. "Hm. I don't like this." The white wolf climbed the vines on the wall until he reached the balcony and climbed over the balcony parapet. The smell of blood grew more intense and Geralt glanced through the glass, recognizing everything in the dark, thanks to his mutation. Geralt's heart started pounding like crazy when he saw Y/N. She was kneeling in front of the bed in a red dress, the fabric was torn at some parts. The sight of her was pitiful. He made a terrible mistake...

The balcony door was open a crack and it would be a simple matter to go in. But the white wolf paused in his movement. Y/N cursed him for dragging her back to her husband. But he could not leave the young woman behind. While Geralt was still thinking about how to go about it, Edmont entered the bedroom. Instantly Geralt's attention was turned to him. "Stop crying!" Geralt saw Edmont push his young wife into bed and that was enough for the witcher to intervene. He pushed open the door and entered the bedchamber with heavy steps. Slowly pulling the sword from its scabbard, his golden eyes blazed, keeping the Count in his sight. "What are you doing in my home? Get out of here, witcher!" "You have lied to me, dear Count. Raping and hurting your own wife. You disgust me!" The witcher sounded calm, yet unbridled hatred blazed within him. "Women must be kept on a short leash with a hard hand! Especially when they are as young as Y/N!" Y/N didn't know why the Witcher had come back, but she was grateful for it. Seeking help, she looked at the Witcher and when Geralt looked into her face, he recognized the violet under her left eye and the blood on her lip, which had already dried. "I'll warn you just once. Let her go." Geralt's sword flashed in the glow of the moonlight and Edmont fell silent. He knew it would not be wise to anger the witcher. Eventually he loosened his grip on Y/N shoulders and she immediately got out of bed, tripping over her own feet in the process. She failed to stay on her feet, her body hurting too much. "Come to me, Y/N. I'll take you away from here." The gentle undertone in the witchers voice, made her trust him. In the end, she saw no other way out to escape Edmont. "Y/N! You are my property! Don't forget that!" Y/N wanted to get as far away from Edmont as possible, and the white wolf was her last chance. So she rushed to his side and Geralt stood protectively in front of her, blade pointed towards Edmont. "If we cross paths again, I will kill you!" "You won't be able to protect her forever, witcher!" Geralt approached the man, pressing the blade to his throat, and at that moment, Edmont fell silent. Nervously, he looked at the white wolf. "Should your men get the idea of following us, I won't leave any of them alive. This, I promise you!" And Edmont knew that this threat was to be taken seriously...

♦♦♦♦

The quiet sound of the water in the background had a calming effect on Y/N. They had stopped at a stream and Geralt took care of the numerous wounds on her face. Carefully and gently, the witcher wiped the dried blood from her face with a damp cloth. To keep her warm, he had given her one of his doublets. Geralt could not put into words how much it tormented him to know that he was to blame for what Edmont had done to her. The gold had completely clouded his rational mind. He had not seen that this young woman was helpless. His golden eyes looked into her face as he whispered, "I'm sorry." But Y/N said nothing. Still, she was grateful to him for realizing his mistake and protecting her from Edmont. No man had ever stood up for her like that before. And yet it would take a long time for her emotional wounds to heal. "If you wish, may I take you back to Toussaint? Or to your family home?" But then the young woman shook her head, began to sob. "They are to blame for all this misery!" She burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her hands. "They sold me to him. They had gone into debt and he wanted me for it!" She was twenty four back then. Now she was twenty six. She had spent too much time with that cruel man. Geralt was shocked. Her own parents had given her away to save their own skins? They had given their beautiful child to a cruel man like Edmont. And Y/N wanted nothing more to do with her parents -not after what they had done to her. "I understand." "No." She looked up at him, her eyes all red and puffy from crying. "You don't understand. You're a man. You can't imagine the burdens of a woman," she said softly and saddened. "You are right. I can't." Geralt had seen much suffering in the world, but the greatest violence came from men. Women and children had always been the ones to suffer. But for the first time in his life, he was part of such a crime, and it disgusted him that gold had been so much more important to him than the desperate words of a young woman. Geralt looked at his own reflection in the water, and he couldn't stand the sight of himself. "Take me to Toussaint, witcher. Back to Vermentino. Where I found my peace." "I will. You have my word."

♦♦♦♦

The way to Toussaint was long and they spent the nights in cozy taverns. Geralt paid all the expenses for the young woman. He tried to clear his conscious and yet he knew that nothing could wash her blood and her pain away from him. They had just crossed the border into Toussaint as the sun slowly descended on the horizon. "We'll be reaching Vermentino shortly." Y/N yawned softly, which made the witcher smile. It had been a long journey and the young woman was undoubtedly tired. She leaned against his chest and Geralt let her do so. The gentle smile on his lips showed how much he appreciated that she trusted him. But at the same moment he was aware that he should not give himself false hopes of forgiveness. Even if one day she would forgive him, he would never be able to forgive himself. "Get some rest. I'll wake you as soon as we get there." Geralt enjoyed being close to Y/N, and the thought of them parting in a few hours saddened him. But who was he in her eyes? Certainly not a knight in golden armor. Geralt tightened the reins, slowing his horse a bit more. But he was aware that it was only a stone's throw to Vermentino and that he had to finally let go of her. In this short time of being together he had come to appreciate Y/N very much and he would be lying if he would say that his heart didn't beat like crazy when he was near her. He would be deceiving himself if he claimed that the sight of her didn't bring him to his knees. The need to protect her was deeply ingrained in him and yet he knew she would never allow it. In her eyes, he was a monster. One who did everything for money and nothing was sacred to him. At least that's what Geralt thought.   Well, she was very hurt and disappointed. She was confused about Geralt's decisions. To see inside the mind of a witcher seemed to be a great challenge for the young woman. But soon she would not have to, because her home was already waiting for her. The vineyard was already in sight, and an unpleasant tugging sensation spread through Geralt's stomach. Strange. A witcher did not know the feeling of fear. But fear of loss was high on the white wolf's list. He was not quite as heartless and cold as some other witchers.

The white wolf looked down at the young woman and at her beautiful sight, he hardly dared to wake her. He just rode on, wanting to enjoy the last moments with her in silence, until he finally entered the courtyard. The humans and elves around him recognized the witcher instantly and were not very excited about seeing him. Many of them had not forgotten how he had carried off Y/N. But they were all the more curious when they saw the young woman. 'Scum,' one of the workers muttered, casting venomous glances at the witcher. Normally this would leave Geralt cold, but in this case he had to agree with the farmer. However, he led Roach on, before stopping in front of the large shelter. The white wolf looked down at the beautiful woman with a hammering heart, admiring her lovely face. The delicate nose, the full lips, the long lashes that cast shadows on her rosy cheeks. Firmly he clenched his jaw, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. She had to get out of his life. What could a witcher possibly offer her? A miserable life, full of loneliness. "Y/N. Wake up. You're..." He almost couldn't say it. "...home." His soft tone brought the young woman out of her sleep and she blinked a few times before opening her eyes to see the sun smiling down on her. Geralt wasted no time. He got off his horse and helped the young woman dismount. The view of her plump cleavage had been unavoidable, but Geralt stopped his thoughts. The young woman's eyes gleamed at the sight of the winery. She was free again and never again should she be imprisoned. Geralt would make sure of that. He knew that his being a witcher would have priority, but he put this woman's life above his destiny. His watched her silently, before he lowered his gaze to the ground in sorrow. He nodded, realizing to himself that she deserved every happiness in the world. Before they were to part ways, Geralt took out from his saddle a small, ornate dagger. Narrow, not heavy, but deadly. "Before I go, I want to give you something." Y/N became curious as he approached her. When she saw the dagger, she instantly stepped back and looked quite uncertainly into his face. But Geralt, much offended by the fact that she did not fully trust him, frowned, shaking his head. "For you. I won't be able to protect you from now on." Even if this was not true, Geralt did not want her to know that he was watching over her. Y/N looked down at the dagger and she finally reached for the weapon. "Thank you." Geralt just smiled and headed for his horse without another word. He gave her one last look before riding off, and Y/N was looking at him, while he leaving her behind. This man would remain in her memory for a long time.