To be honest, I wasn't doing very well in the past few days but yes, I am doing much much better now! Thank you for asking me. So sweet of you to think of me. 🥺
Unfortunately I had taken a break from writing for a while but now I'm sort of back again but looking for inspiration once more to write. Once I do find it, I will definitely add you! Thank you❤️
Can you indulge me please, given the recent pandemic why is it that artist or fanfic writers are slowing down their works? I ask because personally I believe this makes it a better opportunity to work faster, as something to distract from the gloomy reality occurring.
I'll indulge you, but I'm afraid you won't like my answer very much.
The reason authors and artists aren't working their asses off MORE is because this is a pandemic, not a vacation.
It's not 'extra free time' for everyone.
For many it's 'my grandfather just died of COVID' time.
For many, it's 'I got laid off and am desperately trying to look for a way not to get evicted' time.
For many, it's 'I'm isolated from my friends, family and other sources of inspiration, I'm at home alone trying to deal with the world at large collapsing' time.
It's time to go out and protest for their rights. It's time to fall into a depression because they can't pay for medicine, because they're worried about a loved one with an immunodeficiency, because they have to decide whether to pay full tuition for taking classes online, which isn't as easy to learn from and feels like a rip-off.
I feel like this needs to be reiterated - fanfiction and fanart USUALLY doesn't pay. It's a hobby. Most fanfic authors aren't armcandy to a wealthy millionaire, and they can't just ignore other important life necessities in order to keep updating their 50k coffeeshop AU. It's not a viable career, and it will not keep you afloat. And while yes, many use it as an escape, many also can't write when they aren't safe, secure and know where their next paycheck is coming from.
So I'm not very surprised many creators are taking time away. They have lives, loved ones, other responsibilities, and at least one of those three is very likely a clusterfuck right now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Be kind. Always assume everyone is doing their best. You never know what someone else might be going through.
Gif like always is not mine! Credit to the owner!🤍
Request: Definitely! You take all the time you want.. 🤍 thank you for doing it .. it's just I have this idea, that the reader wakes up one night.. and she thinks something isn't right.. she cannot figure out what and when she looks at herself in the mirror, she is dressed in the dress women used to wear during that era.. and it's only later she finds out that she has been transported to the past.. where she meets Sherlock, and their forbidden love affair begins 🌚
I know you’re on your period so I wrote this for you! Hope you like and enjoy it love!🤍 I changed it up a little bit, I hope you’re okay with it love. It’s going to be a short story though!😅🤍 @babylooneytoonz
Pairing: Henry!Sherlock x fem reader
Warnings: a whole lot of fluff!
<3
It was not the first time ( Y/N ) woke up in the middle of the night, tossing around in bed and wondering about anything going on in her life and why she felt so out of place all of a sudden. But this particular night if felt even more different than the nights before.
Confused and still tired she got out of bed, wearing a shirt that was way too long for her and only her panties underneath. Then she walked over to her mirror and watched herself carefully, yet she could not help and feel like something was missing. The young woman crossed her arms in front of her chest and rubbed her arms as the evening breeze blew over her.
Shivering she went back to her bed and closed her eyes, falling asleep quickly. The next time she woke up she found herself feeling different, but wasn’t able to make out what it was, that made her feel oh so different from last night. ( Y/N ) ran a hand through her tousled hair, letting out a small yawn as she stood up and made her way over to her closet.
Only then she realised how different her room looked. The young woman’s confusion only deepened and when she opened the door to her closet she halted into her movements. The clothes were not hers. So definitely not hers. ( Y/n ) would not have chosen something like that for her. Like never.
She let out a defeated sigh, reached for one of the dresses that had appeared in her closet, seemingly out of nowhere, yet she decided she would have to with it. Muttering under her breath she tried to put on that strange dress but found herself in a different, more difficult situation. How was she going to put that dress on if she did not know how to use it.
The young woman let out a frustrated groan and stomped onto the ground. From downstairs she was able to make out a voice, a voice she never heard before. She shook her head. That was not possible. How could something like that be possible. It was so out of the ordinary it seemed like a joke gone wrong and to her it was a terrible joke.
Instead of walking downstairs she fought to fet the dress on and ( Y/N ) finally managed to do so, she let out a sigh of relief. Then she walked into the bathroom to do her morning routine. When the ypung woman was done with that, too, she walked back out pondering about what had happened in that night. Did she fall out of bed and hit her head? Did she die and was into an alternative world where everyone dressed so out of fashion? Or did something entirely different happen?
Well either way, it was weird as hell. Whoever dressed like that must be old, very old. After a few minutes ( Y/N ) was done with everything and took one last look into the mirror, but now when she saw herself fully clothed she could not help but actually like what she saw. With a small smile she twirled around.
Though she had to shake her head about herself. This was wrong, so very wrong. Yet ( Y/N ) felt the exact opposite, like she belonged just right there. The only think that wasn’t there was the love of her life, the only think that actually felt wrong. She let out a small sigh, grabbed a purse she had found and left her apartment.
As soon as she stepped outside she once again felt so out of place, out of the ordinary. Everything looked so different. ( Y/N ) felt lost. This was not the London she lived in, this was not the place she was used to. This was something else. Yet it still seemed similar to her London, just a lot dirtier and without cars, busses and streets she knew.
Instead the people were going by foot or by bike. And others on the other hand were driving with a carriage. Here and there were a few cars but nothing like the cars she was used to. The longer she walked down the street the more astounded she was. To say the truth, she was excited.
She got to experience something new, something she had only seen in history books but now she saw it with her own eyes. Call it strange but it must she believed it to be real, like she had undertaken some kind of time travel. The young woman hadn’t realised that she had stopped walking and now stood in front of a small cafe, so deep she was in thought.
( Y/N ) shrugged her shoulders. Why not go inside when she was there already. She gently pushed the door open and walked inside. All around sat mostly women, books in their hands and a cup of either tee or coffee stood in front of them. Not really thinking about it she stepped further into the room and looked around.
That‘s when she was pulled out of her thoughts by a voice coming from beside her. ( Y/N ) looked up, only to be met by a pair of blue eyes. She swallowed hard, eyes cast downwards after looking the person up and down. She knew the person and she knew who he was. She had read about him a lot and had seen many movies about that famous detective.
In front of her stood Sherlock Holmes. He was huge, bulky and a little gruff. She did not expect him to be so muscular and tall. In movies he looked smaller and a little less bulky and definitely less intimidating. This on the other hand did not mean that she found it less attractive. However ( Y/N ) was not able to talk, but only able to look at him.
The longer she looked the more nervous she became. Sherlock on the other hand, turned smug. A smirk came to rest on his features, making his eyes crinkle just a little more than usual, but to her it was just that little bit more irresistible. He was able to hear her gulp but did not say one thing. The only thing Sherlock did was to muster that young woman from head to toe.
He coudl not quite place it, but she seemed different than anyone else in this room, even though she wore the same clothes. He was intrigued but did not show it. He only came here to look for his sister and did not expect to meet this not so ordinary woman. But he found himself not caring about it, though it was important to him.
" Have a seat with me." He spoke softly, surprising not only himself but her as well. ( Y/N ) bit her lip but reluctantly agreed. She did not know him, but he intrigued her a great deal so she took a seat with him. After a few minutes a woman came over. She looked like the ownerin of the shop.
But the look she gave Sherlock, indicated that they might have had an argument some time prior. But he just brushed it off and ordered them both a coffee. " I’m sorry to ambush you like that, but I just had to know who you are." Sherlock admitted. A small smile on his face. ( Y/N ) blushed deeply and folded her hands.
" My name is ( Y/N ) and if I’m honest I don’t know where I am." Sherlock rose an eyebrow at that, a glint of suspicion crossing his beautiful blue eyes. ( Y/N ) bit her lip as she watched him with careful eyes on her own. There was a few minutes of silence between them, Sherlock just observed the young woman in front of him.
The moment he saw her he knew she was different, but he yet had to find out in what way. " I woke up and my clothes had changed. Is this some sick joke? I mean you can’t be real. This must be a dream." ( Y/N ) suddenly rambled. Sherlock just chuckled. The way she spoke intrigued him. It was refreshing and not ouf of this world. That probably was, what drew him towards her.
( Y/N ) looked up at him, when she heard him chuckle, only then realising how much she had rambled. She send him a shy smile, a blush creeped up her neck and cheeks. " So ( Y/N ), right?" He said in his deep, comfortable baritone, that send shivers down the young woman’s spine. The addressed woman nodded in response.
" You say this is not your normal clothes. Does it mean that you are not from this time?" He asked. Wanting to keep her talking. With a small smile she continued. " You could say that. But I don’t understand what or how this happened. It just you know happened." The ( Y/N ) gestures around with her hands.
The longer they talked the more intrigued he got. But so it was the other way around, as well. ( Y/N ) was surprised how open minded he really was. In the movies and books he always came across as reserved and not so open minded.
Morning soon turned into early evening and the two of them kept talking until ( Y/N ) looked out of the windows and motices how dark it had gotten already. Sherlock stopped talking when he noticed that his center of attention, was not paying attention to him any longer. Only then he noticed how dark it had gotten as well and he let out a chuckle.
( Y/N ) turned his attention back to Sherlock, another blush coming to her cheeks. Though she was not able to stop staring at him. His curls, his eyes, him. Sherlock notices this and his smile widened. He gently took his opposites hand in his and squeezed it gently. The young woman blushed even more, but she was not as nervous as before, now his presence actually did calm her.
She send him a small but soft smile, before standing up and paying for her food and coffee. " I have to get back home. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Holmes." Her voice was as soft as her smile as she bid him goodbye and headed out the door, before Sherlock was able to stop her. " Wait..." was the only think he got out before he saw this mystery woman disappear.
He made it his task, to find out more about her. Where she came from, who exactly she is, where she lives and why she came here. There was no stopping him now, for she started a game she did not know about, nor intended for it to happen. And this is how the love affair between ( Y/N ) and the famous Sherlock Holmes began.
<3
Like always I’d be happy for some support. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, just like constructive criticism. 🤍 My work is my own and I don’t want to see it getting reposted.🤍
summary: when Geralt loves the monster inside of you, you think you have nothing to worry about. But what happens when someone frames you when you are innocent and poisons your lover's mind, turning him against you?
warnings: angst
*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost, copy or claim my work as yours.
[My Masterlist]
The smouldering heat from the fire warmed your blood and bones to no extent, but what was the point of it? You looked at the blanket of the stars above you, but the brittle tears in your eyes made your vision blurry and difficult. Bringing your fingers gingerly to the side of your blood stained face, you pinched the bridge of your nose, waiting for the midnight to strike once more and your wretched curse to take over you.
He was your respite, in this cruel world of harshness. He, in his own different way, his outer shell hard and impossible to crack; used to be soft and gentle just for your eyes. He was like your little flicker of fire, that reflected in your eyes, warming up the cold in your heart. Geralt of Rivia. Fucking White Wolf. The bloody bastard that did this to you, and now you were out here, in the middle of nowhere, hunched underneath the canopy of the trees, warming yourself up by the little fire that you had lit, afraid of being caught.
The deeper you stared into the sizzling embers, your chin resting unceremoniously against your knees, that you had pulled up, and had an arm locked around, the more the thoughts and the memories plagued you, of the countless times the Witcher had shown you how he wasn't like the others.
The way he made love to you that night he found out about your curse. It was gentle, and raw. He held you close to his chest after that, the heat radiating from his body warming up your frame, as his lips tenderly explored your shoulders, and your lips. He held you to his chest, his thick, beefy fingers stroking through your course sweaty locks, his firm body pressed to you as he shared your bed, night after night, except for the days he was out on a monster hunt.
Geralt of Rivia looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His fingers delicately traced the line of your lips, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and his breathing hitched, his lips pursing together, his golden orbs radiating with a warmth every time he was around you.
After midnight struck, and you turned into the bear you turned every single night into, Geralt didn't run away. Instead, you did. The first three nights of being with him, you ran away every single night the second you transformed, and it was a more a feeling of disgust on yourself, than a fear that you would end up hurting Geralt.
Then, from the fourth night, and the fifth, he began following you; his adept, athletic form running after you, jumping over the hedges and the thorns, just to make you stop running from him.
The sixth night, he finally stopped you, cornering you to a stone hill, his hands raised slightly, on either of his side, his chest heaving up and down, "It's me, my love." You knew it was him, but he was trying to make sure. You turned your animalistic front away from him, turning your back towards him. Geralt didn't go away, instead he took a step closer until you felt him place a hand on your back, the first touch barely grazing you, but it was as if he was waiting for your reaction. When you didn't flinch or try to attack him, he began stroking your fur tenderly and a growl emancipated from your snoot.
He was taming the monster in you, slowly yes but he sure was. You didn't run away from him this time.
That night, or the few nights after that, Geralt didn't leave your side even as you turned into that bear again. He stayed, nuzzling the side of your massive face with his nose, his fingers gently scratching your neck, just beneath your snout.
Your mornings with him were the best, especially when you changed back into your own human form upon the touch of the first sunlight, Geralt was with you, holding your hands in his as he watched your bear form melt away. He smiled, as though welcoming you back after a long journey, pulling your tiny, naked form against his chest to give you the warmth as he took his shirt off and let it slide over your frame. Holding you close to his side, he walked you back to the shared shack the two of you now lived in.
What had gone wrong so terribly that you were forced to hide in the thick woods, away from the humanity and away from Geralt?
Geralt didn't know what to believe. He didn't want to believe. There was blood everywhere the smell of it so strong, it was making him sick. Little children, young adults, women, no one was spared. The entire shack now lay abandoned, with bodies lined to the front door with massive claw marks that looked like that of a bear. His heart sank.
She was never like this; she was never a monster but he wasn't so sure anymore.
The stench was unbearable, the whispers of the villagers growing louder and louder into Geralt's ears. He could feel their hatred piercing through his flesh, their fingers pointing at him, blaming him for sheltering the monster they should have dealt with a long time ago. Was it a mistake saving her? Was she actually a monster hiding her true self under a blanket of kindness? For the first time, Geralt of Rivia had no answers.
Dejected, his head hung low, his mind dazed, not with the amount of ale he had had to drink, but rather the plague of his unrelentless morbid thoughts, Geralt walked back to the shack he shared with you, dreading coming face to face with you for the first time.
As he stepped into the shack, he could hear the utensils cracking against each other as you hunched over the sink, cleaning the brass vessels under the running water, your palms scrubbing the oil off them. You were humming to yourself in a low voice, and usually Geralt melted at the sight, wrapping his thick, veiny arms around your waist as he pulled you to him and kissed all the knots and the stress from his body away. But this time, things were different. You were the cause of his stress.
"You're home, love," you whispered, finally aware of his presence. Geralt wasn't specifically silent, with his heavy, burly frame and the armour that was in the least extremely noisy, "I'll get your bath. And the broth is almost on the last boil."
Geralt didn't respond, instead he began stripping down his armour until he was dressed in just his underwear. By that time, you had warmed some water in a metal tub for him, and Geralt stepped into it, hissing slightly as some old healing wounds on his feet came in contact with the warm water; as he sunk in comfortably, placing both his hands on either of the sides. He had a lot to think about.
You regarded him carefully. His shoulders were tense; his body hunched slightly and the old scars on his back were glistening under your candle that lit the room. You strolled towards him, pulling up a stool behind him and came to sit down, your fingers gently trailing over his back until you were scrubbing his back. He stiffened to your touch, and your touch suddenly felt foreign to him.
"Geralt, what's wrong?" Your lip quivered, and your heart sank, at how distant he was being. Yes, Geralt had always been a man of few to no words, but where his words fell short, his actions told you how he cared for you. But today, it was like you had been left to stand in a cold winter night, and Geralt had locked himself away, with the only source of warmth with him.
Suddenly, he stood up, splashing water all around the tub, soiling the flooring and you stood up too, frowning as to what had come over him. He leapt out of the bathtub, his naked form flashing in front of your eyes as he turned his bum towards you and began drying himself off with the cloth you had laid out for him. Once done, he pulled his tights up his toned legs and turned briefly towards you and started wearing his shirt, "Leaving."
"But Geralt, you just –"
"I need a fucking drink. I'll be at the tavern. Don't wait for me," He cut you off, brutally tearing through the soft coating of your tender heart, and you couldn't help but swallow his rudeness, and nodded. You grabbed a mop, and began cleaning the mess he had made on the floor, only to glare at him as he sat down against the side of the bed and began throwing his boots on.
"Leave, and don't even think of coming back into bed in the middle of the night, shit drunk and stinking like a pig," you snarled taking a sharp breath through your nose as you turned away from him and began mopping with your back turned towards him, your shoulders rigid and tense, your arm movements fast and angry.
"I sleep with a fucking bear, can me stinking like a pig be worse?"
You dropped the mop unceremoniously to the floor with a loud clash and turned towards him, your eyes narrowed down and you felt an unrelentless rage inside of you, and this rage was mixed with hurt.
"Get the fuck out, Witcher," your voice was low pitched and dangerous, and with one glare in your direction, the steps of the Witcher faded into nothingness.
That night, as you laid in bed, waiting for that cruel minute when you would turn into an animal, you couldn't help but let your eyes bleed with hot , salty tears, running down your cheeks, soiling your bedding. You whimpered and curled into a ball, burying your face into your hands as you began crying.
You pressed your fisted palm to your mouth, pressing it tight against it so your cries subsided, for you could suddenly hear the sounds of footsteps outside your home. Of course it wasn't Geralt, you were sure of that; the footsteps weren't of a single person, and it felt like an entire army was marching down on you.
You sat up in bed and slid to the edge, standing up as you ran to the window. The villagers were all heading your way, holding lit torches, their faces angry and most of them were yelling.
You cried in pain, looking down at your bleeding thigh were a villager's dagger had managed to cut you. They had found you hiding in the forest, and since you hadn't transitioned into your animal form yet, they had tied you up in chains and were dragging you along the muddy path, their movements fast and calculated. They had to reach the prison before midnight.
The walk to the prison didn't take more than a few minutes, and soon you were pushed face first into one of the empty prison cells. It stank of piss and blood, and you weren't sure which smell was stronger and you couldn't help but crouch into a corner as they tied you up and let your head rest against your knees.
The villagers gawked at you like you were a specimen on display as you turned into that bear, but the restrains that were holding you still were stronger than your bear form, and you couldn't break them, no matter how hard you tried to free yourself.
Geralt hated the tavern, he hated the village and the villagers that lived in it, but when he needed the ale, his hatred was forgotten. He had a lot running through his mind as he drank the last of his ale, and turned towards one of the windows in the tavern. The sky had turned a pale orange, and within the next few minutes to an hour, the sun would be gracing the world. He wondered if you were still in the shack, or you were out running in the forest somewhere. The images of the impaled and clawed out corpses came spiralling into his mind, and his grip on the pitcher almost tightened in reflex.
He was almost about to leave, when Jaskier pushed open the door, his panic stricken eyes scanning the interiors of the tavern until his eyes spotted the white haired man. He pushed a man aside, making his way towards him.
"Geralt, listen–"
"Not now, Jaskier," Geralt growled at him, his eyes glowing with anger.
Jaskier lowered himself into the chair opposite the Witcher and just looked at him, exasperated.
"Aren't you just one bit concerned on [Y/N]'s wellbeing? You're getting yourself drunk, and the villagers are planning to kill her for something she hasn't even done–" Jaskier added.
"the villagers know what they are doing," Geralt took a deep breath, shifting his gaze from Jaskier, and staring idly at the sun that was now rising.
"You what? You–" Jaskier fumbled; he couldn't believe his ears. "They poisoned you too, didn't they?"
"I saw those bodies, Jaskier," Geralt stood up, his chair noisily clattering against the cold floor of the tavern. Ignoring Jaskier, who was now sitting with his palms curled into tight fists, he made his way to the tavern owner, shelling out his pouch of coins. He pulled out the coins and placed them on the counter, and without glancing back at Jaskier, he began walking out when Jaskier came running towards him, and began following him.
"I don't want to be a part of this, Jaskier."
"Listen to yourself, Geralt. That's [Y/N]. She is being framed. I know it in my heart, she cannot do this, please Geralt. They will kill her and once you come back to your senses, it will kill you."
Geralt grunted under his breath as his palm swiped over his jaw. He stiffened as he heard a few villagers began speed walking towards the right, and Geralt frowned, grabbing one of them by their collar.
"Get your hands off me, Witcher. What the fuck–"
"Where are the villagers going?" Geralt grumbled.
"Why? To the market of course. That cursed bitch is to be publicly killed for the murders of our children–" he pulled his shirt off the Witcher's grip, and without giving him another glance, he joined the other villagers and they walked off.
"Wake the fuck up, you monster, and get your tits off the floor," someone threw you an old looking dress, and you opened your eyes to the commotion around you, only to realize that the villagers were all standing outside your cell. You sat up, hurriedly pushing yourself to the wall as you brought your knees up to cover your breasts. You hurriedly reached for that torn dress they had given you; for something was better than nothing, and your own dress was now nothing but pieces of torn fabric strewn here and there. You pulled it over your head, bringing it down to your body, when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you up.
"Can't wait to finally get rid of you, you Satan's spawn," one of them spat on the floor just next to your feet, as one of them began walking out, your chain in his hands. The other one held you by your arm, yanking you to move out and you had no choice.
"Why?" You whispered, your eyes already beginning to cloud with your tears, your eyes widened in fear as you stepped out of your cell and the men began walking out.
Outside, it felt like the entire village had gathered just to watch what was going to happen to you. The looks on their faces were far from sympathetic, there was hate in their eyes and you closed your eyes and let out a cry, as a stone hit the side of your face, just beneath your temple and blood started oozing out of the cut the stone had given you. The villagers were now chanting the words 'kill the beast' again and again, as you were being pushed through the crowds.
The realization was beginning to sink in, as blood trickled down your temple; your heart raced mercilessly. This was the end, it finally was. You couldn't help but think of Geralt as you walked with them, you wondered where he was and if he cared enough. The fight last night had been strange but even stranger was the fact that he wasn't here to save you from these people today.
Even bigger was the realization and the hurt that arose as a result of it; that Geralt too thought of you as a monster. Maybe you deserved this.
"fucking bitch," someone yelled from the crowd, and just then, a massive stone was hurled at you, right at your face, hitting you square in the jaw. Your body twisted when it hit you, your face falling to your right as the pain grew. Your face felt like it was on fire. When you looked up, you realized that you were standing alone; so hopelessly alone, and the villagers all stared at you with venom laced in their eyes. Their leader or whoever this man in the front was, had his sword drawn out as he spat, "any last wishes, you monster?"
You closed your eyes, your body giving up, when you heard the galloping of a horse. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Roach pushing her way through the crowd; though technically the people were moving out of her way , for they didn't want to get crushed under its legs. Geralt's white hair flew due to the wind, and his lips were pressed together, as Roach galloped towards you. When Geralt was close enough, he suddenly flung himself to his side, his legs still secured by the saddle as he grabbed you by your waist and flung you up onto the moving mare.
Angry cries of disdains and yells sounded from behind you, but you weren't looking. Your eyes were fixed on Geralt, as you were clinging on him for life, but he was looking straight ahead, as Roach galloped away.
The air hit your face like ice lollies, and Geralt's body felt nothing like the warmth it always gave you. Although you were now sat in front of him on the mare, the distance between you two felt like two ends of a river bank.
Finally, the mare lowered it's pace as it came to a halt and you squinted your eyes only to realise that you were now on the outskirts of the city, on the other side of the forest.
"Get down," Geralt's cold voice said.
Without a word, you got down, and following you, Geralt hopped off Roach.
"Geralt," you mumbled.
"Leave this village. Go anywhere. I won't be around to always save you from them."
You looked at the man's sublime face. The sun shone down on him, making him look even radiant than he already was. You bit your lip, your face contorted in hurt as you nodded and ran your hand across the side of your face to straighten your ruffled up hair.
Geralt turned away without saying another word ad he began climbing on Roach's back once more but your words stopped him,"Just why Geralt? What did I do wrong?"
He turned but not completely. It was like he couldn't bear the sight of you any longer.
"You're a monster, and the next time, I don't think I will be the one saving you."
You blinked, watching him ride away, his fiery white hair flowing with the wind, his shoulders tense, until he was out of sight.
Henry Cavill All Characters Taglist + Bear Taglist:
summary: when Geralt loves the monster inside of you, you think you have nothing to worry about. But what happens when someone frames you when you are innocent and poisons your lover's mind, turning him against you?
warnings: angst
*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost, copy or claim my work as yours.
[My Masterlist]
The smouldering heat from the fire warmed your blood and bones to no extent, but what was the point of it? You looked at the blanket of the stars above you, but the brittle tears in your eyes made your vision blurry and difficult. Bringing your fingers gingerly to the side of your blood stained face, you pinched the bridge of your nose, waiting for the midnight to strike once more and your wretched curse to take over you.
He was your respite, in this cruel world of harshness. He, in his own different way, his outer shell hard and impossible to crack; used to be soft and gentle just for your eyes. He was like your little flicker of fire, that reflected in your eyes, warming up the cold in your heart. Geralt of Rivia. Fucking White Wolf. The bloody bastard that did this to you, and now you were out here, in the middle of nowhere, hunched underneath the canopy of the trees, warming yourself up by the little fire that you had lit, afraid of being caught.
The deeper you stared into the sizzling embers, your chin resting unceremoniously against your knees, that you had pulled up, and had an arm locked around, the more the thoughts and the memories plagued you, of the countless times the Witcher had shown you how he wasn't like the others.
The way he made love to you that night he found out about your curse. It was gentle, and raw. He held you close to his chest after that, the heat radiating from his body warming up your frame, as his lips tenderly explored your shoulders, and your lips. He held you to his chest, his thick, beefy fingers stroking through your course sweaty locks, his firm body pressed to you as he shared your bed, night after night, except for the days he was out on a monster hunt.
Geralt of Rivia looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His fingers delicately traced the line of your lips, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and his breathing hitched, his lips pursing together, his golden orbs radiating with a warmth every time he was around you.
After midnight struck, and you turned into the bear you turned every single night into, Geralt didn't run away. Instead, you did. The first three nights of being with him, you ran away every single night the second you transformed, and it was a more a feeling of disgust on yourself, than a fear that you would end up hurting Geralt.
Then, from the fourth night, and the fifth, he began following you; his adept, athletic form running after you, jumping over the hedges and the thorns, just to make you stop running from him.
The sixth night, he finally stopped you, cornering you to a stone hill, his hands raised slightly, on either of his side, his chest heaving up and down, "It's me, my love." You knew it was him, but he was trying to make sure. You turned your animalistic front away from him, turning your back towards him. Geralt didn't go away, instead he took a step closer until you felt him place a hand on your back, the first touch barely grazing you, but it was as if he was waiting for your reaction. When you didn't flinch or try to attack him, he began stroking your fur tenderly and a growl emancipated from your snoot.
He was taming the monster in you, slowly yes but he sure was. You didn't run away from him this time.
That night, or the few nights after that, Geralt didn't leave your side even as you turned into that bear again. He stayed, nuzzling the side of your massive face with his nose, his fingers gently scratching your neck, just beneath your snout.
Your mornings with him were the best, especially when you changed back into your own human form upon the touch of the first sunlight, Geralt was with you, holding your hands in his as he watched your bear form melt away. He smiled, as though welcoming you back after a long journey, pulling your tiny, naked form against his chest to give you the warmth as he took his shirt off and let it slide over your frame. Holding you close to his side, he walked you back to the shared shack the two of you now lived in.
What had gone wrong so terribly that you were forced to hide in the thick woods, away from the humanity and away from Geralt?
Geralt didn't know what to believe. He didn't want to believe. There was blood everywhere the smell of it so strong, it was making him sick. Little children, young adults, women, no one was spared. The entire shack now lay abandoned, with bodies lined to the front door with massive claw marks that looked like that of a bear. His heart sank.
She was never like this; she was never a monster but he wasn't so sure anymore.
The stench was unbearable, the whispers of the villagers growing louder and louder into Geralt's ears. He could feel their hatred piercing through his flesh, their fingers pointing at him, blaming him for sheltering the monster they should have dealt with a long time ago. Was it a mistake saving her? Was she actually a monster hiding her true self under a blanket of kindness? For the first time, Geralt of Rivia had no answers.
Dejected, his head hung low, his mind dazed, not with the amount of ale he had had to drink, but rather the plague of his unrelentless morbid thoughts, Geralt walked back to the shack he shared with you, dreading coming face to face with you for the first time.
As he stepped into the shack, he could hear the utensils cracking against each other as you hunched over the sink, cleaning the brass vessels under the running water, your palms scrubbing the oil off them. You were humming to yourself in a low voice, and usually Geralt melted at the sight, wrapping his thick, veiny arms around your waist as he pulled you to him and kissed all the knots and the stress from his body away. But this time, things were different. You were the cause of his stress.
"You're home, love," you whispered, finally aware of his presence. Geralt wasn't specifically silent, with his heavy, burly frame and the armour that was in the least extremely noisy, "I'll get your bath. And the broth is almost on the last boil."
Geralt didn't respond, instead he began stripping down his armour until he was dressed in just his underwear. By that time, you had warmed some water in a metal tub for him, and Geralt stepped into it, hissing slightly as some old healing wounds on his feet came in contact with the warm water; as he sunk in comfortably, placing both his hands on either of the sides. He had a lot to think about.
You regarded him carefully. His shoulders were tense; his body hunched slightly and the old scars on his back were glistening under your candle that lit the room. You strolled towards him, pulling up a stool behind him and came to sit down, your fingers gently trailing over his back until you were scrubbing his back. He stiffened to your touch, and your touch suddenly felt foreign to him.
"Geralt, what's wrong?" Your lip quivered, and your heart sank, at how distant he was being. Yes, Geralt had always been a man of few to no words, but where his words fell short, his actions told you how he cared for you. But today, it was like you had been left to stand in a cold winter night, and Geralt had locked himself away, with the only source of warmth with him.
Suddenly, he stood up, splashing water all around the tub, soiling the flooring and you stood up too, frowning as to what had come over him. He leapt out of the bathtub, his naked form flashing in front of your eyes as he turned his bum towards you and began drying himself off with the cloth you had laid out for him. Once done, he pulled his tights up his toned legs and turned briefly towards you and started wearing his shirt, "Leaving."
"But Geralt, you just –"
"I need a fucking drink. I'll be at the tavern. Don't wait for me," He cut you off, brutally tearing through the soft coating of your tender heart, and you couldn't help but swallow his rudeness, and nodded. You grabbed a mop, and began cleaning the mess he had made on the floor, only to glare at him as he sat down against the side of the bed and began throwing his boots on.
"Leave, and don't even think of coming back into bed in the middle of the night, shit drunk and stinking like a pig," you snarled taking a sharp breath through your nose as you turned away from him and began mopping with your back turned towards him, your shoulders rigid and tense, your arm movements fast and angry.
"I sleep with a fucking bear, can me stinking like a pig be worse?"
You dropped the mop unceremoniously to the floor with a loud clash and turned towards him, your eyes narrowed down and you felt an unrelentless rage inside of you, and this rage was mixed with hurt.
"Get the fuck out, Witcher," your voice was low pitched and dangerous, and with one glare in your direction, the steps of the Witcher faded into nothingness.
That night, as you laid in bed, waiting for that cruel minute when you would turn into an animal, you couldn't help but let your eyes bleed with hot , salty tears, running down your cheeks, soiling your bedding. You whimpered and curled into a ball, burying your face into your hands as you began crying.
You pressed your fisted palm to your mouth, pressing it tight against it so your cries subsided, for you could suddenly hear the sounds of footsteps outside your home. Of course it wasn't Geralt, you were sure of that; the footsteps weren't of a single person, and it felt like an entire army was marching down on you.
You sat up in bed and slid to the edge, standing up as you ran to the window. The villagers were all heading your way, holding lit torches, their faces angry and most of them were yelling.
You cried in pain, looking down at your bleeding thigh were a villager's dagger had managed to cut you. They had found you hiding in the forest, and since you hadn't transitioned into your animal form yet, they had tied you up in chains and were dragging you along the muddy path, their movements fast and calculated. They had to reach the prison before midnight.
The walk to the prison didn't take more than a few minutes, and soon you were pushed face first into one of the empty prison cells. It stank of piss and blood, and you weren't sure which smell was stronger and you couldn't help but crouch into a corner as they tied you up and let your head rest against your knees.
The villagers gawked at you like you were a specimen on display as you turned into that bear, but the restrains that were holding you still were stronger than your bear form, and you couldn't break them, no matter how hard you tried to free yourself.
Geralt hated the tavern, he hated the village and the villagers that lived in it, but when he needed the ale, his hatred was forgotten. He had a lot running through his mind as he drank the last of his ale, and turned towards one of the windows in the tavern. The sky had turned a pale orange, and within the next few minutes to an hour, the sun would be gracing the world. He wondered if you were still in the shack, or you were out running in the forest somewhere. The images of the impaled and clawed out corpses came spiralling into his mind, and his grip on the pitcher almost tightened in reflex.
He was almost about to leave, when Jaskier pushed open the door, his panic stricken eyes scanning the interiors of the tavern until his eyes spotted the white haired man. He pushed a man aside, making his way towards him.
"Geralt, listen–"
"Not now, Jaskier," Geralt growled at him, his eyes glowing with anger.
Jaskier lowered himself into the chair opposite the Witcher and just looked at him, exasperated.
"Aren't you just one bit concerned on [Y/N]'s wellbeing? You're getting yourself drunk, and the villagers are planning to kill her for something she hasn't even done–" Jaskier added.
"the villagers know what they are doing," Geralt took a deep breath, shifting his gaze from Jaskier, and staring idly at the sun that was now rising.
"You what? You–" Jaskier fumbled; he couldn't believe his ears. "They poisoned you too, didn't they?"
"I saw those bodies, Jaskier," Geralt stood up, his chair noisily clattering against the cold floor of the tavern. Ignoring Jaskier, who was now sitting with his palms curled into tight fists, he made his way to the tavern owner, shelling out his pouch of coins. He pulled out the coins and placed them on the counter, and without glancing back at Jaskier, he began walking out when Jaskier came running towards him, and began following him.
"I don't want to be a part of this, Jaskier."
"Listen to yourself, Geralt. That's [Y/N]. She is being framed. I know it in my heart, she cannot do this, please Geralt. They will kill her and once you come back to your senses, it will kill you."
Geralt grunted under his breath as his palm swiped over his jaw. He stiffened as he heard a few villagers began speed walking towards the right, and Geralt frowned, grabbing one of them by their collar.
"Get your hands off me, Witcher. What the fuck–"
"Where are the villagers going?" Geralt grumbled.
"Why? To the market of course. That cursed bitch is to be publicly killed for the murders of our children–" he pulled his shirt off the Witcher's grip, and without giving him another glance, he joined the other villagers and they walked off.
"Wake the fuck up, you monster, and get your tits off the floor," someone threw you an old looking dress, and you opened your eyes to the commotion around you, only to realize that the villagers were all standing outside your cell. You sat up, hurriedly pushing yourself to the wall as you brought your knees up to cover your breasts. You hurriedly reached for that torn dress they had given you; for something was better than nothing, and your own dress was now nothing but pieces of torn fabric strewn here and there. You pulled it over your head, bringing it down to your body, when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you up.
"Can't wait to finally get rid of you, you Satan's spawn," one of them spat on the floor just next to your feet, as one of them began walking out, your chain in his hands. The other one held you by your arm, yanking you to move out and you had no choice.
"Why?" You whispered, your eyes already beginning to cloud with your tears, your eyes widened in fear as you stepped out of your cell and the men began walking out.
Outside, it felt like the entire village had gathered just to watch what was going to happen to you. The looks on their faces were far from sympathetic, there was hate in their eyes and you closed your eyes and let out a cry, as a stone hit the side of your face, just beneath your temple and blood started oozing out of the cut the stone had given you. The villagers were now chanting the words 'kill the beast' again and again, as you were being pushed through the crowds.
The realization was beginning to sink in, as blood trickled down your temple; your heart raced mercilessly. This was the end, it finally was. You couldn't help but think of Geralt as you walked with them, you wondered where he was and if he cared enough. The fight last night had been strange but even stranger was the fact that he wasn't here to save you from these people today.
Even bigger was the realization and the hurt that arose as a result of it; that Geralt too thought of you as a monster. Maybe you deserved this.
"fucking bitch," someone yelled from the crowd, and just then, a massive stone was hurled at you, right at your face, hitting you square in the jaw. Your body twisted when it hit you, your face falling to your right as the pain grew. Your face felt like it was on fire. When you looked up, you realized that you were standing alone; so hopelessly alone, and the villagers all stared at you with venom laced in their eyes. Their leader or whoever this man in the front was, had his sword drawn out as he spat, "any last wishes, you monster?"
You closed your eyes, your body giving up, when you heard the galloping of a horse. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Roach pushing her way through the crowd; though technically the people were moving out of her way , for they didn't want to get crushed under its legs. Geralt's white hair flew due to the wind, and his lips were pressed together, as Roach galloped towards you. When Geralt was close enough, he suddenly flung himself to his side, his legs still secured by the saddle as he grabbed you by your waist and flung you up onto the moving mare.
Angry cries of disdains and yells sounded from behind you, but you weren't looking. Your eyes were fixed on Geralt, as you were clinging on him for life, but he was looking straight ahead, as Roach galloped away.
The air hit your face like ice lollies, and Geralt's body felt nothing like the warmth it always gave you. Although you were now sat in front of him on the mare, the distance between you two felt like two ends of a river bank.
Finally, the mare lowered it's pace as it came to a halt and you squinted your eyes only to realise that you were now on the outskirts of the city, on the other side of the forest.
"Get down," Geralt's cold voice said.
Without a word, you got down, and following you, Geralt hopped off Roach.
"Geralt," you mumbled.
"Leave this village. Go anywhere. I won't be around to always save you from them."
You looked at the man's sublime face. The sun shone down on him, making him look even radiant than he already was. You bit your lip, your face contorted in hurt as you nodded and ran your hand across the side of your face to straighten your ruffled up hair.
Geralt turned away without saying another word ad he began climbing on Roach's back once more but your words stopped him,"Just why Geralt? What did I do wrong?"
He turned but not completely. It was like he couldn't bear the sight of you any longer.
"You're a monster, and the next time, I don't think I will be the one saving you."
You blinked, watching him ride away, his fiery white hair flowing with the wind, his shoulders tense, until he was out of sight.
Henry Cavill All Characters Taglist + Bear Taglist:
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*
Warning: some rude comments but mostly fluff; mentions of menstruation
Author’s Note: more shark week thoughts. Here’s to hoping this helps anyone during that time of the month. Not beta’d. We own our typos. Page divider made by me.
Unfortunately for him, you hear his comments and you snap. “When you start bleeding uncontrollably from your uterus, your breasts get tender, your back hurts, you can’t decide whether you want to cry or sleep or be angry, then and only then, can you judge me Cavill.” Your eyes narrow at him. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to drop more chocolates into your trolley. You hum, “That’s what I thought,” as you push the cart forward.
He pays for the purchases and you make your way home where you proceed to sort through your items, looking for something to satisfy your cravings. Meanwhile, Henry’s disappeared somewhere in the depths of your shared home. After you finish your chocolate bar, you’ve calmed down and realize what a bitch you were to him. You feel guilty and try to go find him to apologize. He steps out into the room just as you’ve finished putting the rest of the things away.
“Hen—”
He cuts you off with a soft shake of his head. He reaches out one hand towards you. Confused, you take it and he leads you through the house.
Henry opens the bathroom door and inside is a full bathtub sprinkled with roses and candles burning around the room, casting a warm glow. You see the book you’ve been reading on the small table next to the tub along with a glass of wine and more snacks. He’s set up soft music to play in the background. You turn to him, realizing the wonderful set up he’s made for you and rush to him to give him a great big hug.
Hearing your sniffles, Henry cups your face in his hands and turns it up to him. “Shh love. Let me take care of you and help you. I know it’s not easy for you to deal with it. I’m sorry I tried to deny you what comforts you right now. Let me make it up to you by helping you relax and get comfortable.”
“But Henry, I was so awful to you. I’m sorry,” you softly cry.
“It’s alright, love. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“But Hen—”
“We both were wrong. Now climb in while the water is still warm and let me take care of you.”
You nodded tearfully and let Henry make you feel better.
summary: you were mistakenly cursed by your best friend, Yennefer, when the two of you were young. Since then, at the strike of midnight, you turn into a hideous bear and run off into the woods to stay the night. No matter how powerful, Yennefer isn't able to undo your curse. One day, she meets Geralt, and so do you. However, what wasn't in the books was the fact that you found yourself falling for him. ♡
requested by: @dashingcavill
warnings: curses & folklores, Geralt being both a douche and a babe.
[Masterlist link]
Yennefer had guests, as you were informed by one of the girls that lived with you, and it didn't come as a surprise, for Yennefer had guests visiting her almost everyday. What fascinated you was that you were always too curious to see who the visitor was, so you would sneak up on them, and spy on them until the night ended in either of the two— Yennefer falling into the man's arms and coiling herself around him like a snake, or Yennefer using her powers on him to make sure he wasn't found again.
You wondered what it was going to be tonight, as you brought your candle closer to your face; letting the faint orange glow illuminate your features and stepped out of your room, your dress flowing behind you like a trail of white poppies until you finally reached the hall, where an orgy was on full display, and you scrunched up your nose in disgust.
You were about to turn away, walk back into the warmth of the chambers that you had so eagerly left, just to see exactly who Yennefer's guests were, when you finally saw them. At first, you just saw a bard, at least he looked like one, ignoring the massive tumour like lump that hung from his throat. You could see that he was gasping for air, but it wasn't him that captured your attention— it was rather the white haired man, tall as an oak tree, hair white like snow, eyes yellow, like a lion's. There was something intimidating about him, something that told you that he wasn't a man to be messed with, yet there was something else; like an aura, an invisible one, that made you keep staring at him.
You kept watching, listening to him introduce himself as Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher and you couldn't help but wonder about the monsters that he had encountered all of his life? Did they include animals... like you?
As if on cue, it suddenly struck you that soon, it would be midnight, and this meant that you were supposed to stay away. You ran through the hallways, your heart beating wildly inside your chest, fluttering out of control. It was a race against time. Your insides had begun boiling, immense pain shooting through your body like a million needles being inserted into your flesh. You grabbed the door handle at the right time, kicking it open and stepping inside, bashing the door shut again.
If anyone was to enter your bedroom, they would find you gone already. Your window thrown ajar, your discarded clothes strewn all over the carpeted floor. They would find thick brown coloured hair like that of a bear's and they would wonder if you were attacked by a bear. But this would be someone who wasn't Yennefer, for this secret of yours was only known to her, for she had been the one to have cursed you once, when you two were just little girls. And from that night onwards, there wasn't a single night when you didn't turn into a massive brown bear, when the it struck midnight.
Geralt wasn't just a regular in Yennefer's life though; a good fuck and a bye bye. He stayed, for longer you had expected him to. Although he never seemed to notice you during the days, you sure noticed him. There were days you didn't see him altogether, and you assumed that he had gone, left for good but then after a few days you would see him again— or hear him— in Yennefer's chambers; their skins slapping together, their moans filling the air, and his grunts.
The first time Geralt of Rivia actually noticed you was a few months into his acquaintance with Yennefer. You were outside by the well, drawing out water, when you heard a whinny of a horse followed by a steady galloping. It was bright and sunny, and the sunlight falling right into your eyes forced you to use your palm to shield your eyes and squint at the unexpected visitor, only to see Geralt's mare, Roach, come to a halt a few meters away from you, and Geralt leaping off it.
Geralt was on his way back to Yennefer, after having fought a bruxa that was tormenting the villagers of a nearby village and all he wanted to do was be in her arms again. It was Yennefer that managed to break through the brooding Witcher's hard outer exterior and see him for the kind, gentle man he was from the inside. She loved him for him and that is what he loved about her. It was surprising for him when he saw a woman by the well that early in the morning outside Yennefer's home. It was still the wee hours of the morning, pale sunlight fell all over like ivory, and there weren't many people around, but she was there. Geralt frowned at this weird, foreign feeling that was suddenly growing in the pit of his something; that feeling being curiousity and the wish to just find out more about her.
As he leapt off Roach, turning to give her one pat against her side, he turned his back towards you and you couldn't help but fix your gaze on him. The fabric of his shirt was slightly ripped and you could see traces of his scars scattered all over. The Witcher turned towards you just then and immediately, you began looking away, not wanting to be caught staring at your friend's lover. A giddy feeling swept over you when you saw from the corner of your eye that he was walking towards you.
"Can I have some water?" He said to you, looking down at you, and your bucket of water and you flushed, immediately bringing the bucket towards him.
"Oh, I am sorry, definitely," you nodded, and the Witcher slowly lowered himself from the waist, as though bowing in front of you, and cupped his palms. You lifted the bucket carefully and began pouring water into the cup of his hands, letting him drink his stomach's fill.
When he stood up again, you could see the corners of his mouth were glistening wet, as he eyed you carefully, examining you through his golden orbs and you couldn't help but feel flustered. It made you begin feeling self conscious and unknowingly, your palm flew to the side of your face, clumsily struggling to push your loose strands of hair behind your ear.
"Who are you?" You were pulled off guard, for you hadn't expected this. All this while, you had sheltered at Yennefer's place, you had always kept to yourself, and not many bothered to be interested in knowing about you; at least none of her lovers. Biting on the insides of your cheeks, you seriously hoped that he wouldn't catch on the growing reddish hue that was taking over your face. But you had no idea that the Witcher can listen to your heart right now, that it was racing, beyond control, and if Geralt was to concentrate on it, he would totally think that your heart will leap out of your body and land across his feet.
"Me? I'm..[Y/N].. Yennefer's friend.."
Geralt kept watching you for a few seconds before he nodded in your direction, choosing not to reply before he slowly turned your back towards you and began making his way inside. You just kept standing there, watching him like an idiot, a small wave of a smile displayed against your lips.
It didn't happen with the blink of an eye, but rather, your journey of losing yourself to the Witcher's charms was a journey of months. From that day that you gave the Witcher some water to drink, you ran into him a countless number of times. Some of them were innocent, when you would just run into him at Yennefer's mansion, while leaving your chambers, or recklessly running down the halls. Lucky for you, Geralt never managed to step out of Yennefer's chambers around midnight, so he never found out the secret that you had hidden from the world.
Some of the run ins, were however, not so innocent, especially when you almost ran into him when he was relaxing in the bath, his naked body glistening under the flickering torch, his arms spread out around him, resting against the edge. He regarded you from the corner of his eye, his eyes ablaze but you couldn't decipher what was running through his mind.
"Where's Yen?" He asked, his back facing you, his fingers moving aimlessly over the surface of water.
"She's.. I saw her in her chambers. She was speaking to one of the mages," you mumbled awkwardly, struggling to keep your eyes trained to the ground, but it wasn't very easy. And it was definitely not easy when Geralt suddenly stood up, naked, his body glistening and droplets of water falling down his perfectly shaped butt before he slid out of the bath, and began striding towards where his clothes lay.
You couldn't keep your eyes off his perfectly toned, muscular back and the way his tight butt moved as he walked off. Even when you knew that he knew you were watching him, you couldn't help yourself be captivated by him. Geralt didn't admit it but he was secretly enjoying it, and for the same reason, his movements were incredibly slow, when he reached for his leather slacks and slid it on, slowly, yet teasingly. He still gave you the view.
In that moment, you were thankful for the distraction— of Yennefer walking in. But what you missed to see was the look of malice the way her dark eyes narrowed at you, glancing from you to Geralt's naked form.
"You're done already, love? Couldn't wait for me?" She purred, as she glanced at you in an obvious way, as though silently asking you why were you here. She regarded you top to bottom, licking over her lower lip as she began stripping, right in front of your eyes.
She loosened the buttons around her chest, popping them one by one before she lowered the neck of it, revealing her glistening skin. You looked away, as she slid the dress lower and lower, until it fell gracefully against her ankles and she stepped out of it, naked.
Geralt growled at the sight of her, and you, embarassed beyond your wits, fled as fast as you could, before their moaning filled your ears and you couldnt remove those sounds from your ears.
"Well, fuck," Geralt cursed under his breath, his shoulder slightly hanging now as he tried to reposition himself after the blow he had taken from the striga in the woods.
It was as if the creature was laughing at him, it's teeth bared out towards him; inviting him. Geralt spat under his breath,just when the striga charged at him once again, screeching in a high pitched tone, the heavy body of the cursed monster almost making the earth beneath it shake. Geralt's sword was ready to strike, but the creature played a move. Right when the striga was close enough, it leapt in the air and took a leap, taking the Witcher by surprise.
It's massive claw struck him and he flew back, flying through the air until he was lying flat against the ground.
The cursed monster hissed and snarled, and Geralt could feel it making its way towards him, but the shooting pain in his body had temporarily had him frozen and a little slower.
He didn't understand what happened after that, but whatever did happen, it bought him the time to get back to his senses and regain his lost strength. When he stood up again, he saw that the striga was engaged in a fight with a massive bear. It was just a normal bear for him, claws sharp as it tried to scratch the striga but even the bear seemed to be of no match to the cursed monster. The bear had scratches over its front legs, and it's chest.
What Geralt didn't understand was that the bear looked at Geralt, and blinked, and Geralt couldn't help but feel something incredibly familiar about those eyes, as if he knew the person lurking behind those eyes.
The moment didn't last long though, for the bear was clawed at by the striga, and tossed away. The poor animal whined in pain, but slumped to the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds on its furry body.
Geralt snarled, taking advantage of the distracted striga, who was already making its way towards that injured bear; he leapt to the ground, rolling on his back and got a hold of the sword he had dropped. Blinking, he took a deep breath, and aimed the sword right towards the striga and let it swoosh through the air. The aim was perfect, the blade of the sword struck the striga right at the base of its neck, piercing into the rotting flesh as the cursed monster stumped to the ground, dead.
You whimpered slightly as you struggled to lift your heavy animal form up, but the cuts on you were scorching in pain, causing you to groan and whine with every little movement you made. You stiffened entirely when you saw the dark eyed Witcher stand tall above your head, only to kneel down next to you, and grunt, "Who are you? You are not a bear."
You growled at him, your sharp teeth bared out at him, but he didn't waver. He just kept looking at you; dead into your eyes.
"Geralt,may the lord's have mercy on my poor soul- where exactly are you?"
Jaskier stepped on a tree branch, crushing it unknowingly, the sound of it following his voice. Geralt muttered a low curse under his breath and he stood up, his hands on either of his hip as he glared at the bard, "I told you to wait by Roach, Jaskier." Jaskier parted his lips, ready to reply but his eyes suddenly caught the sight of you and they widened in fear, watching you slowly struggle to stand up.
"Geralt, why is there a bear behind you? Geralt— "
"that's not a bear," Geralt deadpanned, turned away from you.
"Are you blind? Would you look at that? That is a bear— " He suddenly turned towards you and hissed, "— And it's running away now."
Geralt cursed much louder now, his head turning sharply back. He suddenly began running after you, but you, even in an injured form, were fast and were making a distance already.
"Geralt, why are you running after that bear?" Jaskier shouted, but did not follow him.
Geralt simply shook his head, and muttered, under his breath, more to himself, than to the bard, "that is not a fucking bear."
It felt like a million daggers had been ripped through your flesh. It felt like you didn't have the energy to even open your eyes. Finally, after a lot of effort, your humanly form opened your eyes. The first thing your eyes fell on was the hearth that was warming you up.
And then they moved to your bare feet, that had scratches all over it. Someone had applied a green, now dried up herbal paste to it.
Suddenly, it hit you like ice cold water, and you suddenly remembered it all. How you had tried to fight the striga, and how it had almost killed Geralt.
Geralt.
Your eyes travelled to the shirt that you were wearing, the only fabric that was covering your body. And it didn't take you long to register who it belonged to; owing to the fact that it was too big for your much tinier frame as compared to him.
You buried your hands into your face, embarassment and guilt filling you up. He must have seen you transform, from that bear to this form, which is why you had his clothes on.
"You're awake."
Your eyes lifted, slowly meeting his yellow orbs. He had just entered into the cave, and was holding two logs of freshly cut wood. He knelt down in front of the fire he had made to keep you warm and began placing the logs.
You bit the insides of your cheeks and tried to adjust yourself more comfortably, but the wounds on your chest ached, making you wince. Geralt looked up.
"Don't move. I patched you up."
You blinked, squinting your eyes slightly until you were balling the fabric of his shirt, looking at him.
"You saw everything? Didn't you?"
He stood up, and grunted under his breath, before he made his way to you, and knelt down next to you. His fingers grabbed at the fabric of your shirt, which was clinging to your wound, pulling it away, his eyes fixed against yours, "Who did this to you?"
"No one," you shook your head, and tried to look away, but Geralt's voice snapped you back towards him.
"Yennefer?"
"She didn't mean to. It was an accident," You blurted out.
"I knew," he muttered under his breath, and looked like he was in a thinking.
"I want to go home, Geralt. I'm tired." You began to put the weight on your legs as you tried to get up but pain shot through your body and it made you hiss and fall back again.
"You're hurt, [Y/N]," he rasped, and before you could protest, he was already sliding his thick, veiny hand underneath your thigh, and in one sweep, he had you in his arms.
When Geralt stepped out of the cave, you realized that it was already shining bright outside, and almost half a day was already over. You slid your arm delicately around his neck to hold on to him as he casually, and effortlessly carried you down the rocky terrain. The first few minutes were quiet, and you could feel the Witcher's questions but he didn't ask you.
Finally after a few minutes of silence, you heard him, "How can I lift this curse?" He briefly looked down at you, and you swore you saw a look of gentleness in his eyes as you looked at you.
"We tried everything. There's no way. I'm cursed for life."
His eyebrows twitched, and his nostrils almost flared, in anger. He looked away, forcefully, so that he could concentrate on anywhere but you. Finally, after a minute of giving you a squared jaw, he lowered you on a rock, and turned away from you. Fixing his hands on either of his hips, he turned his back to you, and you could see the scars on his naked back, full displayed to you. You couldn't help but feel drawn to his scars, wanting nothing more than to draw your index finger over each one of it, "Well fuck, I don't buy it. Someone can do something," he barked.
"Well feel free to try, because I've tried and it didn't work!" You yelled back at him.
Suddenly, much to your surprise, the Witcher lowered himself to squat in front of you, his palms fixed on your bare knees, as you only had his shirt on. Before you could understand what was happening, the Witcher grabbed you by the back of your head and pulled you into him, his lips slamming against yours. The kiss was passionate, his lips as though in a battle with your lips, struggling, wrestling for control.
At first, you were shocked, but in minute or so, your body relaxed, the knots slowly loosening, as you began melting into the kiss— until Yennefer's face popped into your mind.
You broke the kiss in the midst, and pushed him away, glaring at him, throwing daggers at him with your eyes, "What the fuck, Geralt?"
He just gave you a serious look, as he lifted himself up again and began trying to lift you but you smacked him hard in the chest and he jumped back. You grabbed him by his arm and pulled him to you, "Why did you kiss me?"
He blinked, giving you a look, before he grabbed your arm, and pulled you closer, so you were chest to chest with him, "I wanted to."
"I'm a monster," you whispered back, but you were so close to him, you could feel your heart race, and so could he.
"You saved me." He said, huskily. Slowly, he reached for a loose strand of hair dangling by your side, pushing him behind your ear. After a short, momentary pause, he whispered, against your ear, "be mine."
You could feel tears pool in your eyes, and you didn't dare blink, afraid he will see them. You shook your head at him, trying to act defiant, but inwardly, you were weakening, "You don't want me. I'm cursed, and I'm gonna be cursed all my life."
"And I'm a Witcher, you think this isn't a curse?"
His words threw you off guard; you werent expecting it. Yes, you were aware how people his kind were treated, but atleast he wasnt cursed.
"They still need you, even if they hate you," you whispered, looking down.
"And I don't need you?" Geralt fixed his index finger over your chin and lifted your face up so you were meeting his yellow orbs that had fire lurking through them, "Don't care if you turn into a bear every fucking single night."
He suddenly bent and picked you up once again, bridal style, but this time you didn't protest. Instead, you had a humongous smile drawn to your face. Your whole body hurt, but you didn't care.
Geralt's words rang through your mind, again and again.
be mine.
"One step at a time, Geralt of Rivia," you said to him, and he just smiled to himself, his lips only crinkling lightly but you knew he was smiling even though his eyes didn't match yours this time.
One this is brilliant!! I love how you paced this story but the reveal at the end was just wonderful. I love that they were able to see it from both sides and maybe feel a sense of camaraderie they’ve never felt before. If you decide to write a sequel can I please be added to the tag list?
