Attn: I have no idea where this came from. It was supposed to just be a smut piece but turned out more tender than I expected. Regardless I hope y’all enjoy!!!
Word Count: 2,232
Pairing: Geralt x Reader
Summary: When a village cannot pay Geralt in coin, they give him a choice.
Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of murder, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, p in v sex, squirting, creampie
“We’re not a wealthy village mister Witcher I am afraid we cannot give you any coin, but we can promise you something,” the town elder drones on. “And what is that?,” Geralt asks annoyedly, already having killed the monster as promised. “Any woman in town you wish, for… however long it takes to satiate any needs you might have,” he replies. “Any woman?,” Geralt perks up. “Yes,” the elder replies.
Geralt stood quickly already knowing who he wanted. “Just out of curiosity—,” the elder began. “The woman that lives in the cottage on the edge of town. That’s where I’ll be,” he says. “Oh surely you’d like someone better. She’s childless, widowed… holds very little value in this village,” he rambles. “You said any woman. I’m taking her,” Geralt replies before leaving.
After a long day of tending your garden, you were just before taking a bath when you heard a knock at the door. Although a bit disheveled, you opened it, surprised by the sight of The Witcher at your home. “Can I help you Geralt?,” you question. “You know my name?,” he asks, tinge of surprise in his voice. “Well of course. I know your name isn’t just “Witcher” though many seem to think it is,” you reply.
“I— I’ve been promised you,” he tells you plainly. “Promised me?,” you question. “For killing the… the town couldn’t afford to pay me coin so I was to choose—,” he babbles before you interrupt him. “And you chose me?,” you ask. “Mmm,” he hums with a nod. “Come in,” you say, stepping to the side. He ducks into your small cottage before beginning to strip himself of his armor.
“I was just before a bath. W— would you care to join me?,” you question tentatively. “I’d like that very much,” Geralt tells you. You weren’t sure why he’d chosen you, but you had every intention of being accommodating. You removed your clothes, revealing yourself to Geralt before stepping into the bath. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, and for the first time in his life he was jealous of bath water. He quickly worked his clothes off and joined you.
He sat across from you before reaching out. “I am quite dirty Geralt. I should—,” you try to tell him. He pulls you into his lap nonetheless. “Let me help you,” he says as he begins to bathe you gently. You can feel his large erection pressed against your core, and it makes you ache. It had been a very long time for you, and for some reason you trusted this strange man.
“Why was there surprise I chose you? You’re lovely,” he says softly. “After my husband died— I was in shambles. Honestly he was killed. I married for love, but another had thought he could buy me. When my husband was out of the way, so to speak, he came for me. I killed him,” you confess. “As you should have. Did he harm you?,” he asks. “No, though he tried. But now everyone is either afraid of me, pities me, or thinks me troubled,” you reply softly.
“I don’t think so,” he tells you as your eyes meet. He reaches up and caresses your face gently. “Why did you choose me?,” you ask out of curiosity. “I could tell that was something about you, something I recognized from within myself. Now I know. You’re kind, but people won’t look past what you’ve had to do. We are the same,” he says before leaning in and kissing you softly.
“I can finish here. Would you mind making us something to eat?,” he says as he pulls away. “But don’t you want—,” you start. “Later, Precious,” he replies. You nod before exiting the bath, off to dress and make a stew for the both of you. When he enters your small kitchen you sense him before even turning around. “I hope you like stew,” you say, setting the table. You startle lightly when his big hands begin to knead lightly at your hips.
“Thank you,” he murmurs before placing a kiss behind your ear. He sits, bringing you with him. He pulls the other bowl from across the table in front of the two of you before bringing a spoonful to your mouth. “Oh Geralt, that’s not ne—,” you get out before he feeds you anyway. “You’ll need your strength,” he says, sending a shiver over your body. Your nipples even pebble, poking at the fabric of your thin nightgown. He kisses your shoulder before feeding you the rest.
Once you’re finished he turns you sideways in his lap and kisses you again, more hungrily this time. “Go undress and wait for me,” he instructs before helping you up. You do as you’re told, waiting anxiously beneath the covers for Geralt. “I can hear your heart racing,” he says as he stands in the doorway. “I have not been touched by a man in three years,” you reply. “And have been only touch by one, yes?,” he question. You nod nervously as he starts undressing.
He crawls overtop of your covered body, hovering inches above your face. “I want you badly, but I have every intention to make this good for you as well. Anything you want, or need you only have to ask,” he assures you. “O— okay,” you stammer before he dips down and kisses you. “Can I see you?,” he asks as he sits back on his heels. “Yes,” you say as you throw back the covers.
Geralt takes his bottom lip between his teeth. “Even better than I imagined,” he all but whispers as his hands trail up your thighs. You let out a shaky breath as they continue up to your breasts. He squeezes them lightly before moving back down to your thighs and parting them. He groans audibly at the sight of you. Next he takes you by surprise when he buries his face in your cunt. “Mmm,” he hums against your sex.
“G— Geralt,” you say frantically. The feeling of his mouth on you is nearly overwhelming, yet feels so good at the same time. He settles himself there. One big hand pawing at your body while the other is prodding at your dripping entrance. He pushes a finger in and soon the sound of your slick, and his slurping fills the room. “Please, please,” you whine. He adds another finger and alternates between pushing them in and out of you, and curling them into just the right spot.
You gasp in surprise when your arousal gushes out of you and your walls convulse around his fingers. You expect him to stop but when he doesn’t you whimper in overstimulation. “Just one more for me,” he says before continuing. “Geralt,” you keen as another orgasm washes over you. He works you through it before pushing your legs farther apart and nudging the head of his cock against your quivering hole.
“Ready?,” he asks. “Please,” you beg, feeling so empty. When he pushes in just past your opening you gasp. “Ooh. You are so… tight,” Geralt nearly growls as he pushes forward. Your nails bite into the meat of his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentions. “I— I can’t,” you squeak, eyes screwed shut tightly. “Look at me,” Geralt tells you. You take a breath and open your eyes, Geralt’s amber gaze heavy upon you. “I know that you can, but if you want me to stop I will,” he says softly.
You contemplate that for a moment, he’s got to be nearly in, and in all honesty now that you’re relaxed you feel yourself becoming more aroused, more… slick. “No. No. I just—,” you stammer. “I know,” he coos as he gently caresses your face. His fingers wander and brush lightly against the back of your neck, sending a shiver through you. “So beautiful,” he murmurs before leaning down and kissing your lips.
The kiss relaxes you and he slides the rest of the way in with a grunt. “H— how does it feel?,” you ask curiously. “You feel perfect. Like… this was meant to be,” he rasps. You nod in agreement, still not sure what’s happening here. He’s a perfect stranger. You should’ve sent him away, told him to choose another, yet here you are connected to him in the most intimate way.
Your thoughts become a blur with the first thrust of his hips. Out, then back in gently. Again and again and again until you can hardly stand in. You’re gasping and clinging to him, overwhelmed by how much pleasure you’re feeling. “G- Geralt,” you cry out as you orgasm. “Yes,” he grits out. Had he been an ordinary man the way you were gripping down on him so tight would’ve been the end of him. Instead his Witcher’s stamina keeps him going.
He makes you come again before flipping so that you’d be on top. “Wh—,” you say, feeling flustered. “I want to see you. This beautiful body on top of me, you taking your pleasure…. Precious,” he says garnering your attention. “Yes?,” you question. “Ride me,” he insists. He looks up at you eagerly, and who are you to deny him? You work your body, sliding up and down his cock, slowly at first then faster until you’re panting and moaning loudly.
“Y— can you—,” you choke out before Geralt starts stroking up into you. He watches your taut pussy sucking him in greedily with each stroke. You’re right there on the edge, all it takes is for him to reach up and thumb at your swollen clit for you to tumble right over it. Your thighs shake around him as you ride it out.
In one swift movement he’s flipped you, your head hanging over the edge of the bed slightly as he throws your legs over his shoulders. He feels so much deeper at this angle and when he starts pounding into you, there’s so much blinding pleasure, you feel like you could pass out. “Perfect, so perfect for me. Gods you’re so warm and wet,” he nearly whines.
At this point all you can do is blubber nonsensically, moan and squeal. He places one hand at the back of your neck, the other on your hip and with his strength, pulls you down on his cock as he thrusts upward. He’s rutting into you so deep it feels like he’s in your lungs. Your body trembles as you desperately suck in air before gushing all over him. Finally Geralt lets himself go as well, cock swelling and spilling into you.
“Uh huuuh,” he husks as he meets his end. He buries his head in the crook of your neck and holds you close. After a short while, he scoops you up and lays you on the bed. “One moment, Precious,” he tells you. When he returns he has a warm cloth. He wipes you down from top to bottom before wiping himself and climbing into bed with you. “Come,” he says as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him.
Over the next week Geralt stays. Resting, relaxing, and fucking you so good it was a miracle you could still walk. This particular evening, you were right before setting the table when he stops you, opting you have you instead. He eats your pussy for what seems like hours until he flips you around and takes you from behind. Your breasts spill out of the top of your dress while the skirt of it pools around your waist. The sound of Geralt’s thighs smacking against your ass fills the room along with the sound of your slick.
“I… will never tire of this,” he says as he pulls you up against him. He fondles at your breasts and toys with your clit as he kisses your face. A tender contrast to the way he’s pounding into you. “You. Are. Mine,” he says, eventuating such word with a deep thrust. “Yours,” you agree.
When the two of you finish, you have a bath. You’re sat in Geralt’s lap, head on his chest while he rubs your back. “I must leave for Kaer Morhen soon,” he tells you. “I know,” you say somberly. “Come with me,” he then says. “But— I’m not allowed am I?,” you question, sitting back to look at him. “You will be welcomed if I bring you,” he assures you.
You think about it for a moment. All you have left here is your home, and though it does hold memories of your late husband, many of those are overshadowed by his death, and what you had to do within these walls. No, there is nothing left here for you.
“I’ll go with you,” you tell him. “You will?,” he asks as he smiles brightly. “Nothing could make me happier,” you say before leaning in and kissing him. He holds you tight, feeling more content than he can ever remember feeling in all his life. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “For what?,” you wonder. “Not turning me away, letting me have you, letting me stay, going with me,” he lists off. “Thank you for choosing me,” you reply.
He cups your face and regards you tenderly before kissing you once more. “We will leave first thing tomorrow morning,” he then says before you nuzzle yourself back into his chest.
SUMMARY: a storm drives you both into an abandoned chapel. you light your lantern and sit near the altar, drying herbs by its glow. he sits in the dark until you offer him half your cloak without a word. when thunder rattles the ceiling, he mutters, “you’re not afraid.” you answer, “you only scare the ones who don’t see you.”
WARNINGS: injured roach if you squint
NOTES: first of my geralt pieces, starting with how he met the reader - hope it’s okay!
[ masterlist ] requests are open
———————————————————————————
The storm came crawling over the horizon long before it broke.
You could smell it first — that copper tang of lightning still caged in the clouds. The forest had gone quiet, the kind of quiet that meant even the birds had found cover. Only the wind moved, tugging at the hood of your cloak as you followed the road that sloped toward an abandoned chapel you remembered from a past journey. The villagers said it was cursed. You called it shelter.
You were just rounding the bend when you saw him.
A lone rider, black horse slick with rain, silver hair already darkened by the downpour that hadn’t yet reached you. He dismounted slowly, as if the weight of the world — or of the blades on his back — required him to think about balance.
You recognized him by reputation, if not by name. A Witcher.
You might have kept walking, another traveler passing with a polite nod, but he was staring down at his horse’s leg — something wrong, a limp maybe. Instinct tugged at you the way it always did. You approached.
“She’s favoring the right foreleg,” you said, voice low enough not to startle the animal.
He turned at the sound, those yellow eyes catching the faintest bit of dying daylight. “You see that from here?”
“I see most things limping,” you replied, offering a ghost of a smile. “I’m a healer.”
He said nothing, but didn’t move away when you came closer. You knelt, fingers brushing the mud-caked fetlock, careful not to crowd the mare. The wound wasn’t deep — a stone bruise, perhaps. You pulled a small pouch from your satchel, the scent of crushed comfrey rising with the damp.
He watched as you worked, the kind of silence that felt like studying rather than suspicion. When you straightened, rain began to fall in fat, heavy drops that stung against your skin.
“There’s a chapel ahead,” you said, nodding up the path. “Stone roof, mostly intact. You’ll want cover before that turns to a storm.”
His eyes flicked toward the black line of trees, then back to you. “You’ll want the same.”
You didn’t wait for agreement — only turned and started walking. The rhythm of hooves followed a few steps behind.
By the time you reached the chapel, the sky had split open. The door resisted your shove, wood swollen with years of rain. He stepped past you without a word, shoulder braced against the frame, and it gave way with a low groan.
Inside, it smelled of dust and ash, old prayers clinging to the stones. You lifted your lantern, striking it to life, and warm light spilled across the empty pews.
The Witcher paused in the doorway, rain running down his armor in rivulets of silver. You gestured toward the shadows.
“Come in,” you said simply. “No use letting the storm have us both.”
He hesitated — then followed you in.
The Witcher turned, closing the door against the storm. The sound of the rain softened once there was wood between you and the world — distant now, a steady heartbeat against the chapel walls.
You lifted your lantern higher and took in the ruin. The roof sagged in places, but the altar still stood, stone veined with moss and candle stubs melted down to ghosts of wax. You’d slept in worse.
He stood by the doorway a moment longer, water dripping from the ends of his hair, cloak heavy with it. The faint scent of iron and wet leather carried through the chill.
“You can come closer,” you said, kneeling to set your satchel down. “No sense guarding the door. Whatever hunts out there will wait until dawn.”
He gave a sound halfway between a hum and a sigh, then stepped forward, boots echoing softly on the stone. The horse outside huffed once before settling, and for the first time since the road, the silence didn’t feel dangerous.
You struck a few bits of tinder together until the lantern’s flame grew, brightening to a steady gold. Its glow kissed the walls and touched the edges of his armor. Without the storm’s blur, he was sharper — all scars and steadiness and the quiet gravity of someone built to endure.
You began unpacking the essentials of your trade: rolls of linen, glass vials bound in twine, a pouch of herbs that smelled faintly of mint and earth. You spread them out on your cloak, letting the warmth of the lantern draw the damp away.
He watched, wordless, as you worked — not intruding, not offering help, simply existing in the shared hush. When you finally glanced up, his eyes caught the lantern light like molten gold through smoke.
“You travel light,” he said at last.
“I have to. I go where I’m needed.”
“And people pay you for it?”
“Not always,” you said, voice soft. “Sometimes they just feed me, or let me sleep in their barns. The Path takes care of its own.”
That earned you a faint lift of his brow. “You sound like a Witcher.”
You smiled at that — small, honest, fleeting. “I patch what you kill. I suppose that makes us opposite sides of the same coin.”
He looked at you for a long time, then glanced toward the door again. The thunder cracked closer this time, shaking dust from the rafters. You moved toward the altar, pulling your cloak tighter.
“Sit,” you said, gesturing toward the broken pew opposite yours. “Storm’s only getting worse.”
He hesitated — a creature of instinct, of distance — then finally obeyed.
The lantern burned between you, throwing both your shadows against the walls.
Outside, the storm began to howl. Inside, there was only breath, and warmth, and waiting.
The storm worked its way inside the chapel’s bones. Wind rattled the shutters, and rain pressed against the walls as if trying to remind you that the world outside still wanted in.
You’d grown used to weather like this — storms that drove people into each other’s paths. He seemed less comfortable with it. Every thunderclap drew the faintest flicker of tension through his jaw, a readiness to fight something that wasn’t there.
You reached for your satchel again, half for distraction, half out of habit. “You should get out of that armor. It’ll take a day to dry if you don’t.”
He gave a low sound — not refusal, exactly, but resistance. “Not the first time I’ve ridden through rain.”
“No,” you said, smiling faintly as you sorted a few damp herbs onto a cloth near the lantern. “But maybe the first time you’ve done it with company who knows how to treat pneumonia.”
That earned you the smallest curve of his mouth. He unbuckled one pauldron, the metal clinking softly as it met the floor. The lantern’s light caught his profile — sharper now, but softer, too.
You worked in silence until he spoke again. “Geralt.”
You looked up. “What?”
“My name,” he said simply. “Geralt of Rivia.”
You nodded once, meeting his gaze. “Then I suppose I should tell you mine.”
He tilted his head slightly, waiting.
You gave it — quietly, as if the name might echo too loudly in a place like this. His eyes flicked toward the lantern, thoughtful.
“Not a bad one,” he said after a moment. “Has a steadiness to it.”
A small smile placed itself upon your lips.
A crack of thunder rolled through the rafters, deep enough to make the air tremble. You didn’t flinch, but the lantern swayed, sending your shadows dancing across the walls. He noticed — or maybe he was waiting for you to startle and didn’t know what to do when you didn’t.
“You’re not afraid,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
You met his gaze through the shifting light. “You only scare the ones who don’t see you.”
The words hung there — simple, but heavier than they sounded. Something eased in his shoulders, like tension unwinding from years of habit. The thunder outside rolled away into distance, leaving only the steady rhythm of rain against stone.
He looked at you for a long moment, the sort of look that doesn’t demand understanding but quietly asks for it anyway. You didn’t shy from it.
The lantern’s flame wavered and steadied again, a fragile, stubborn thing — much like the moment between you.
You turned slightly, pulling your cloak closer and holding out one side toward him. “It’s warmer if you sit nearer the light,” you said, not quite an invitation, not quite a command.
Geralt hesitated, then crossed the few feet of empty chapel floor. He sat beside you, the bench creaking under the shared weight. The cloak bridged between you, half yours, half his.
For a while, neither of you spoke. His breath slowed, deep and even, and yours followed suit. The scent of rain and metal gave way to herbs drying by the lantern’s heat — chamomile, mint, smoke.
It wasn’t comfort, exactly. It was something quieter: the absence of fear.
When another rumble of thunder murmured across the hills, he said, “Most people would’ve run the other way.”
You smiled faintly, eyes on the lantern. “Most people aren’t used to what comes after monsters.”
He made a low sound — not laughter, but close enough to count.
Outside, the storm began to pass, its fury traded for drizzle. Inside, time seemed to loosen its grip.
You leaned back against the wall, eyelids heavy, letting the quiet take root. Beside you, Geralt rested one hand over the hilt at his hip — habit more than need — and the other lay open on the bench between you, empty, patient.
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* summary written by me
⚔️ DRABBLES
Pillow Talk by @railroad-migraine
Now that Geralt has Ciri under his protection, the reader assures him that he has what it takes to be what the orphan princess needs.*
Still Here by @mandos-things
You should be used to waking up alone, even after another life changing night with Geralt. Your heart disagrees.*
There Was Only One Bed by @starryeyedstories
friends to lovers
Sharing a bed and being told to “stay on your side of the bed“ only to wake up the next day, with their arms wrapped around you.
Star gazing by @/starryeyedstories
Geralt shows you the stars.*
Geralt + river by @/starryeyedstories
A bath in the river with some company.*
Feeling for each other in the dark by @/starryeyedstories
You seek Geralt’s warmth.*
Geralt Headcanons by @/starryeyedstories
❤️ romance + ☁️ soft
Geralt + hugs by @andsheloved
[headcanon]
Your Witcher’s types of hugs.*
Your Witcher by @velvetcloxds
You cannot fall asleep without being in the arms of your Witcher.
Grant no Clemency by @owillofthewisps
the outside world is cruel, you know. and sometimes it is worse to have tasted kindness and return to such malice.
⚔️ONESHOTS
Cold by @plus-size-reader
Enjoying the snow while Ciri and Geralt find it far less agreeable.
Untitled by @dinahdarling
[no reader]
Geralt goes back to Kaer Morhen for the first time after the incident at Blavikin.*
Love of His Life by @13atoms
Angst with a happy ending
Set at the Temple of Melitele in season 2 of the netflix show, on the evening Yennefer arrives (pretend the fire mage doesn’t exist).
Love Tonics by @/13atoms
Friends to lovers
You visit a tavern during your travels with Geralt to sell some potions. As he watches you from the bar, the Witcher is reunited with an “old friend” who gives him plenty to think about.
Heart Moon by @/13atoms
Fluff; friends to lovers
There’s a heart moon above our sleeping heroes, and the beginning of a love story growing between them.
Stolen Moments by @certifiedskywalker
Geralt was right when he said that the life of a Witcher is not one suited to children, to a family. But Geralt was your family, your love, and you would take any stolen moments you could get. Even if that meant not getting enough sleep on long nights.
The Hunt by @/certifiedskywalker
strangers to lovers
It was a meeting by chance: two hunters that work alone. More like two storm heads clashing in the dark of a night's sky. That night, you both took a risk. Weeks later, you both found it was not a risk at all. It was fate tying you together.
An Artistic Reimagining by @/certifiedskywalker
You and Jaskier have been traveling about the Continent together for...well, forever it feels like. Just when it seems you’ve written a song about everything, you make the acquaintance of a Witcher and inspiration strikes! Though, Geralt seems to regard your artistic voice with indifference, borderline disdain. You’re starting to take his comments personally.
Pet Names by @/certifiedskywalker
[18+] fwb to lovers
You and Geralt have an arrangement, however causal. One night, there’s a slip and lines blur; but the night plays off as smoothly as a song.
Binding Magic of Attraction by @/certifiedskywalker
The village you called home has always had a monster problem. The first time the Witcher was called, it was a Cockatrice infestation. He had had the beasts handled before the sunset; left as swiftly as he came. The second time the farmers that lived around you summoned him, it was a Barghest. After he battled the creature, you took the Witcher into your care. He left two days later, though you had wished he had stayed with you longer. Now, your neighbors had called upon the Witcher for a third time, to deal with you.
A Lifetime of Anticipation by @lia-writes
[princess!reader; fluff]
Geralt helps you with your hair.
Now I Am Under by @riviawitch3r
Geralt loses his temper; but though his fuse can be short, his love for you is immeasurable.*
Let Me Be Your Mirror by @/riviawitch3r
How Geralt feels about his scars.*
Sum of Our Parts by @/riviawitch3r
Deaf!reader
while enjoying an evening together in an inn, some unwelcome interested parties cause trouble, and reader has to put them in their place.*
Save your heart by @/riviawitch3r
Deaf!reader; angst with a happy ending
Geralt goes after a siren and has to be saved by his lover.*
Unspoken by @/riviawitch3r
Fluff
Geralt coming home is always a cause for excitement.*
Found in Your Arms by @/riviawitch3r
whump
An old enemy takes the one the Witcher loves most, but he should know better: the white wolf is most dangerous when the stakes are high.*
Until the Sky Falls Down on Me by @/riviawitch3r
Hurt/comfort; sick!geralt
Petal by @/andsheloved
Strangers to friends to lovers
Geralt was never a man of many words, so he does what he can to show how he feels for you.
Bring Your Hunger by @intrepidacious
[18+] succubus!reader
There is a Witcher in your house.
The Water I’m Wading In by @/owillofthewisps
a Witcher’s burden is heavy, and the world’s touch can be exhausting, but you will always let him rest.
A Fated Storm by @author-morgan
Magic!reader
If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Geralt of Rivia will be bleeding when he shows up at your door—or in this case, when you find him lying on the side of the road during a storm.
Needed Rest by @/author-morgan
Fluff
Geralt comes to one place he knows he can rest.
⚔️TWOSHOTS
Bone Deep Chill: Part 1 & Part 2 by @/13atoms
1. Caught in a viscous storm, you find yourself in a freezing inn, sharing two rooms between three grouchy people. Worse still, you're fighting off the cold settling deep in your bones.
2. After a cold night warming up in Geralt's arms, it's not clear where your relationship with the Witcher stands.
Hearsay & Smitten by @/13atoms
1. Reader is travelling with Geralt and Jaskier as they journey across the continent. When the Witcher is hired to kill a Basilisk in a particularly hostile town, you can’t help but protest at the hatred they seem to harbour for the monster hunter.
2. After a night with Geralt, reader continues onwards, travelling with Geralt and Jaskier until a peaceful morning of travel becomes a far more dangerous.
⚔️SERIES
The Cottage at the Edge of the Woods by @/starryeyedstories
[series: complete; plus-size!reader, healer!reader; a set of oneshots set in the same universe]
When monsters are cruel and the Continent is crueler, Geralt knows he can always find a few days of peace with you, the gentle healer who lives in the cottage at the edge of the woods.
Beckoning Light by @/owillofthewisps
[18+] [series: in progress]
the wisps have never led you astray, but you hadn’t expected them to lead you to him.
💌Cupid's Note: This is a republished post, I had it posted on the OG account before I got hacked. Happy Reading! - Ultralight
⚠️Cupid's Disclaimer: angst. angst. Smut?
❤️🔥Heart Rate: 4k+ words
💋 Cupid's Hint: You love Geralt, too bad a love spell ruins the chance.... or does it?
💘 Main Masterlist: HERE
💌Request Inbox: OPEN
❤️ Next Chapter ⟶
Happy Reading! ❤️
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them.
That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire.
This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed.
The witcher had always been against you joining the group.
You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him.
A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground.
You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging.
Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?
Wrong.
Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either.
He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much.
Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?
Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence.
Well……anyone but you.
Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good.
You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both.
Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room.
When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs.
It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down.
The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game.
He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger.
“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”
It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own.
The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”
“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach.
By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”
You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch.
“Answer me.”
You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you.
“Humming is not an answer.”
You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”
You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward.
“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down.
“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.
“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”
“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”
“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”
“I do not-”
“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”
“Fuck off.”
Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy.
After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”
A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”
“I do not.”
“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”
“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”
“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest.
Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up.
You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee.
Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine.
“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”
Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”
“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face.
“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again.
Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down.
“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin.
The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him.
“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.”
“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”
The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”
“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”
“Where did he disappear to?”
“You mean after you snatched her?”
By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”
He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing.
You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”
“About?”
“About work.”
“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”
“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood.
“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”
“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you.
“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”
“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”
“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”
Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”
“So you would go back to whoring?”
“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”
“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”
A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”
“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”
“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead.
“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”
“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure.
“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt.
Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners.
But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun.
The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song.
“Can I get you another drink?”
“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile.
“Another ale?”
“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down.
The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you.
One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care.
“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs.
“You’ve had too much to drink.”
“And you care why?”
“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls.
“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..
“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.”
“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”
“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”
A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”
And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.”
Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment.
But just for a moment.
You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it.
“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”
“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms.
It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth.
The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled.
Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door.
The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair.
His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before.
For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-”
This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red.
“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”
“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes.
Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room.
He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell.
He was a fucking fool.
“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”
And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”
You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes. “Oh make it stop-”
“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”
“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you.
“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.
“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”
“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick.
“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.” Jaskier shrugs before yawning.
“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself.
“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”
“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags.
“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him.
“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.”
“Then where is she?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke.
“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”
“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat.
“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”
“How. So.”
“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”
“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”
“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”
“Where is the brothel?”
“It’s no use.”
“Where. Is. The. Brot-”
“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”
“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”
Hi hi! Please feel free to request whatever you want! Requests are preferred to be in the form of an ask, thank you. Simply go to my profile and hit the 'Ask Me Anything' button.
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Not edited, age gap, Virgin! reader, short dabble, shot gunning, reader is above 18, unprotected sex (pls wrap before you tap), slow burn, toy usage.
Sub!Fem!reader x Dom!Male!Character, cock warming, corruption kink, cowgirl/reverse, cunnilingus, cursing, dirty talk, dry humping, edging, fingering, flirting, grinding, MDNI, mentions of breeding, mentions/indication of cannibalism, overestimation, p in v, vaginal penetration, pet names, pulling out, reader discretion is advised! NSFW (obviously), riding, semi-public sex, slight overstimulation.
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Prostitution.
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Text Stories will be found here. (processing…)
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Summary: They told you not to fall in love with the Witcher. They said that he didn’t feel emotions like a human could, that he was just a filthy mutant that didn’t know love. Yet, you did anyways. And you’d pay the price.
Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x f! Reader
WC: 5.9k
Warnings: angst, no happy ending, cheating?, r gets hurt, smut in the form of PinV, dirty talk, fingering (f), kissing, marking, mdni!
Notes: I have only watched the tv show of the Witcher, so I apologize for any inaccuracies! this really has no set timeline, however it IS after Geralt and Yen meet, but before Geralt meets Ciri.
part two out now! -> What You Don't Know
You hadn’t meant to fall in love with the legendary Witcher. The White Wolf. Geralt of Rivia. Everyone in your small village in Redania had warned you against it. They said that Witchers didn’t feel like humans did — that he would never truly be yours, never love you. But when Geralt had showed up to slay Nekkers near your village, without asking for payment, you knew he was different than the monster your village proclaimed him to be.
And maybe it was because you were naive, barely in your twenty-third year of life. Because after he was shunned from your village, you didn’t hesitate to follow him like a lost puppy. And maybe he took pity on you; on the woman with hearts in her eyes. Because Geralt let you travel with him with nary a complaint. He let you ride Roach when your feet hurt. He gave you the biggest portions of his hunts. And he protected you when facing the monsters he killed for a living.
And maybe that was the true reason you fell in love with Geralt of Rivia, because he cared more than the young men in your village ever did.
Geralt was placed on Roach’s back, staring up at the night sky. You called for his attention.
“Geralt?”
“Hm?”
“Might we rest for a bit?”
Geralt looked at where you were, a little ways behind him and Jaskier and panting heavily. He could hear the rapid thump-thump-thump of your heart. He nodded wordlessly, and you sighed in relief while walking towards a fallen log. Plopping down on it, you let out a happy little noise, causing Geralt to tip the corner of his lip up.
“Oh I see, when I, poor Jaskier, ask for a break it’s always a ‘no bard’. But when she,” Jaskier pointed at you with accusation. “Asks, it’s an immediate yes!”
The bard sat down beside you, bumping your shoulder while Geralt hitched up Roach. You stuck your tongue out at Jaskier, blowing a raspberry.
“Geralt just likes me better, Jask.”
Jaskier gasped in mock offense, spluttering. “G-Geralt! Are you just gonna let her say that?!”
Geralt glanced at you two from his perch beside Roach, golden eyes shimmering in amusement. Your heart raced at the sight of him.
“Is what she said not true, though?”
“How dare!”
You laughed loudly, hunching over and gripping your stomach. You didn’t see the fond smile Geralt gave you.
You busied yourself with helping Geralt set up a tent, while Jaskier plucked his lute and hummed under his breath. You looked over at Geralt, admiring the way his white hair cascaded around his face, how his strong biceps flexed with each movement.
“Need something?” His gruff voice called out, and you flushed heavily when he turned his yellow eyes to stare at you, a little smirk tugging his lips. You shook your head, stammering out a response.
“U-Uh, no. I’m just gonna… collect wood! Yes, for a fire!”
You scrambled up from your crouched position, saluting Geralt before shambling off into the nearby wooded area. Geralt chuckled lowly at your retreating form.
“Are you going to tell our fair maiden?”
Geralt stood and looked at the bard, neutrality spread across his face. Roach neighed softly, drawing his attention away from Jaskier.
“Tell her what?”
He questioned, walking closer to his horse and running his fingers through the coarse hair of Roach. She nuzzled his cheek, wet nose cold against his skin.
“You clearly are in love with her.”
Geralt whirled around to glare at the bard, eyes narrowed. He spoke low, a growl vibrating against his chest. Vaguely, he could hear the way your heart was suddenly racing frantically — while a slightly bitter scent infiltrated his nose. He was too preoccupied with his nosy friend to focus on that.
“What?”
Geralt was a man of few words, often communicating with grunts and looks. And his current look was one of murder, and even Jaskier knew not to push. But said bard couldn’t help but rib his friend, just a little.
“I just hope she knows about Yennefer, is all.”
The reaction was instantaneous; Geralt moved as fast as a Striga, crossing the dirt ground and grasping Jaskier by his shirt collar.
Geralt held the bard in the air, ignoring how Jaskier was wheezing for breath. He brought the bard closer, snarling.
“Silence, bard.”
Jaskier went to agree frantically, but was cut off by a high pitched scream, in the direction you had taken off in.
“Fuck.”
Geralt dropped Jaskier, running towards Roach where his head lay. Grasping his sword, he turned to Jaskier and growled out a ‘stay here’ — and then he was off.
The White Wolf didn’t feel fear often, but as he traipsed further into the woods, tracing your scent, he felt scared. He could hear your pained gasps, smell the blood in the air, and the bitter and earthy scent of a Leshy. Geralt himself had never run into one of the forest creatures, but he knew the legends of them were true when he laid his black eyes on the creature currently towering over you.
The Leshy had a skull made of bark, hollow eyes surrounded by pieces of jagged wood . Thick and long antler-like branches protruded from the creature's head. His body was made up of tree bark, and Geralt could understand why local villagers seemed to think this monster was a protector of the forest.
Geralt bellowed, drawing both your attention and the Leshy. You had tears in your beautiful eyes, dirt staining the side of your left cheek. Geralt’s eyes frantically tracked your body, trying to see where the blood was coming from — and then you turned a bit towards him, and Geralt felt rage like he had never felt before. Your left thigh, close to where your femoral artery lay, was drenched in blood. Your simple dress was no match for a Leshen’s talons.
Said creature roared deeply into the air, hollow eyes boring into the Witcher’s. He parted his legs in a battle stance, while the monster moved his branch arms down towards the earth, talons digging into the earthen ground. Geralt knew immediately what the Leshy was planning, and he screamed your name.
“Move!”
You barely had time to roll out of the way before thick vines popped out of the dirt, right where you had been sitting. You watched as they flew towards the Witcher you loved, and you cried harder, completely ignorant of the way your laceration bled more from your movements.
Geralt sprinted to the creature, sword raised. In a swoop, he sliced the blade through the arm of the Leshy, but it barely made a dent.
Think, Geralt!
What did Vesemir always say was their weakness?
An-Igni? No… Igni…
“Igni!” Geralt signed the symbol on his blade, running and thrusting his sword towards the Leshy. He dug the blade in, flames piercing the monster's heart towards the Leshy. The Leshy howled in pain, the fire licking up its body rapidly. Finally, after what felt like forever, the Leshy fell to the ground.
“G-Geralt…,” you whimpered, pressing your hands into your wound. Geralt quickly sheathed his sword on his back, scrambling towards you and lifting you up like you weighed nothing.
“It will be alright,” he murmured, but even he could tell that now that the adrenaline was wearing off, your heart was getting weaker, and you felt colder.
Your eyes flickered shut, before opening slowly.
“Stay with me.”
This time, your eyes remained closed.
When you came to, your thigh felt like it was on fire. Groaning, you looked around groggily. You could tell you were in an inn room, judging by the loud music and boisterous laughter downstairs, as well as the actual bed. Lifting one of the fur blankets, you gazed down at your leg and frowned. The tunic (Geralt’s?) you donned was bunched up at your waist, giving you a clear view of your leg.
Someone, probably Geralt (Jaskier couldn’t stand blood), had wrapped gauze around your thigh. You could see splotches of blood seeping into the material, but it wasn’t flowing like it had been.
Suddenly the wooden door flew open, and Geralt walked in. Your heart leapt in your throat at the sight of him, and you braced yourself for the scolding he would give.
“I'm so glad you’re okay,” he whispered, tone much gentler than you were used to. His voice cracked a little, like it wasn’t used to being used so softly.
You smiled at him, trying to get off the bed but failing miserably when white hot pain licked up from your wound, and you collapsed on your back. Geralt rushed to your side, crouching down beside the bed and staring at you with those deep amber eyes of his. You couldn’t help but bring a hand to his cheek tentatively, watching for any discomfort. When you found none, you pressed the palm of your warm hand into his stubbly skin, smoothing a thumb over the little scars that decorated him.
He released a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed. And you realized, in the year you had been traveling with him, this was the first time he had looked tranquil.
And it was because of you. The sentiment alone was enough for your heart to catch in your throat, for you to lean just close enough to feel the fan of his breath on your lips. Geralt did not resist, and when he opened his eyes to look at you — eyes filled with such emotion, it emboldened you to close the gap between you.
Everything felt right when you did.
His lips tasted like the swill he had most likely gotten from the inn, like the earthy scent of the woods, and like him. It was wonderful, and it was enough for you to forget your wound and lean closer into him, taking your free hand to anchor down on his shoulder.
You stayed like that for a while, languidly moving your lips against his own. But it wasn’t enough, and Geralt must have known because he gingerly laid you back on the furs of the bed, swinging his body to hover over you.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes.”
His hair fell in wisps along the slopes of your cheeks as he leaned in again, kissing you with a passion that you had never known. With one hand, he parted your legs, mindful of your laceration. Geralt maneuvered so his knee rested between your plush thighs. The tunic he had put on you did nothing to block the heat emanating from him, nor the rough material of his leather trousers rubbing against your clothed core.
Geralt could smell your arousal, like the crashing of fast river water, and it just made him unlace the tunic you had been in hurriedly. He groaned low in the back of his throat when your tunic was off, your body laid out for him like an offering. The thought made his cock pulse harder, and try as he might, his control was fastly waning.
You pushed against his thigh needily, arousal gushing from your cunt and soaking your smallclothes. Hands pressing into his shoulders, you drew Geralt ever closer. You couldn’t get enough of him. You had wanted this since you met him, and now that he was letting you have him you weren’t going to let go any time soon. Clasping your hands on the back of his strong neck, you drew him down towards you and slanted your lips against his, sighing in his mouth.
“Take these off,” he grumbled against your lips, biting the flesh into his mouth and tugging. His hands ran hot tracks over your bare thighs, stopping at the cloth that covered your most intimate region.
You leaned up, nibbling at his earlobe.
“As you wish, Geralt.”
Geralt groaned low and leaned back on his haunches, watching as you shimmied delicately out of your loinclothes, breasts moving with the movement. You threw the piece of cloth somewhere in the room, a little zing of pain stabbing through your leg. Geralt put his hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. He looked serious.
“Hey, we don’t have to do this if it hurts.”
Your heart exploded with love. Geralt was always so careful and considerate when it came to you. Smiling up at him, you stroked his clothed bicep and answered him by pressing a kiss to his jawline, licking over the stubble there. He sucked in a breath, undoing his shirt and trousers and tossing them behind him. He wasn’t wearing underpants, and his hard cock pressed hotly against your bare skin. You looked down at his cock, a moan slipping out of your mouth at the sight of it. It was thick, long, and had a delicious vein you wanted to run your tongue on. His cock was nestled in a thatch of snow-white hair.
“Like what you see?” Geralt whispered, cock jumping at your attention. You nodded eagerly, and Geralt gave you a bruising kiss. Geralt leaned down and suckled bruises into your neck, leading down to your sternum. His hot tongue laved wet streaks across your flushed skin, and you arched your back to entice him further.
Your Witcher complied, running his tongue across your hardened nipple before taking the bud in his mouth and sucking. You mewled loudly, fingers tucked into his white hair and pulling in desperation. The tight coil in your lower belly simmered deliciously, ready to snap at any moment.
Geralt ran his hands down your stomach, skimming your hips and thighs before running lightly along your labia, ignoring where you needed him most. His tongue rolled around your left nipple, and he popped off to give your neglected breast attention.
“F-Fuck Geralt, t-touch me!” You whined, eyes shut tight as you focused on every ministration he was giving you. He chuckled darkly, deep voice reverberating against your nipple.
“I am.”
“N-No…”
“No?” He leaned back up, fingers tracing your lower lips. His pupils were so big his golden irises were only a thin band.
“I need it, Geralt!”
“Where?” He mumbled, dragging his fingertips to brush lightly against your swollen and puffy clit.
“Here?” He raised a brow, pressing harder into the bundle of nerves that caused your hips to flex involuntarily.
“Y-Yes! I mean, no, yes!” You whined, head fuzzy.
Geralt ran his fingers lower, circling your opening.
“How about here?”
You arched your back further, pressing your nails into his biceps tightly. He didn’t care if your nails left a mark.
“Yes!” You cried, pressing your hips further into his hand. Geralt cupped your pussy, suddenly thrusting one of his thick fingers into your dripping opening. He immediately started with a sickenly sweet pace, rubbing and curling and thrusting in a way that made you see stars. Geralt pressed his free hand to your lower belly, holding you down.
He pressed his thumb against your clit drawing tight circles, thrusting a second finger into you and pumping it out. His fingers felt so good, like they were made for you. That coil inside you was going to burst, and Geralt seemed to know, because he sped up the pace. The dam inside you flooded when he leaned down and kissed you sweetly, seeming to convey a thousand emotions.
You pressed your forehead to his, nodding against him.
“Please, Geralt. Give it to me.”
Geralt guided his thick cock to your opening, slowly pushing his mushroomed head into you gently. It was a stretch, the burn bordering on painful. But Geralt was nothing if not gentle with you, and he cooed at you and pressed little kisses to your lips to distract you.
“That’s it. You can take me, can’t you?” He grumbled, sliding his hips closer to yours until his cock was sheathed fully inside of your cunt.
“Y-Yes!” You whined, overcome with such lust that you couldn’t help but undulate your hips, the heady drag of his cock rubbing deliciously against your spongy walls. Geralt threw his head back, teeth biting into his lips to stop from groaning. Your pussy clenched around his cock exquisitely, and it was all Geralt could do not to thrust into you like a beast. But he didn’t have to wait long, because you looked him in the eyes and bit your lip.
“M-Move Geralt.”
He nodded, biceps bulging as he raised your good leg around his hip, and then he was thrusting so hard into you black dots bordered your vision. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back as your eyes rolled into your head.
“Fuck,” Geralt grunted, reading back until just his tip remained, before thrusting back inside your sopping wet pussy. You could hear the squelching noises coming from your cunt, and while it should have been embarrassing, it just made you burn hotter. You felt the familiar coil of your orgasm reappear, and you leaned up to nip at Geralt’s throat and drag your hands over his back.
“G-Geralt! Fuck yesyesye —.”
You exploded in a thick cloud of passion, pussy tightening, and Geralt thrusted once, twice, thrice before he stilled and let out a growl low in his throat.
After a few seconds of him shallowly thrusting into you, pushing his thick ropes of cum back inside you, he pulled out. Geralt rested beside you, pulling you to curl you into his chest. You breathed deeply in the scent of him, resting your head on his pectoral. He rubbed over your shoulder.
“Sleep.”
And seconds later you were closing your eyes, the thick haze of sleepiness seeping into every fiber of your being.
After that fateful night, you and Geralt made it a habit to have sex in the whispers of the night. Months later, your relationship was great, until it wasn’t. It had to come crashing down eventually, and it did. In the form of a violet eyed sorceress.
You, Geralt and Jaskier had been playing a round of gwent in the Seven Cats’ tavern when she appeared. The lovely chatter of the tavern drunks stilled immediately, and you turned to see just who had caused this reaction. She was beautiful, like no one you had ever seen.
A long black dress flowed effortlessly on her skin, bodice tight and cut in such a way that pushed her breasts on display. Her hair matched the dark color of her dress, but her eyes — they were like amethyst’s, such a rich purple that they seemed to glow in the warm glow of the taverns.
Your eyes flickered to Geralt’s, and although you knew not to jump to conclusions, your mind couldn’t help but conjure up negativities. He clearly knew this beautiful woman, if the way his eyes were wide and his chapped lips parted was anything to go by.
The woman slowly — gracefully — walked towards your table, a gentle smile playing on her full lips. By Freya, she was gorgeous.
Jaskier took that moment to shout your name, bringing your attention to him. You furrowed your brows, and silently shook your head before shimming a little closer to Geralt. He shifted uncomfortably, and it was like that moment shot an arrow in your heart.
Geralt had never shied away from your affections after you had sex that first night, and now, when this strange woman appeared, it was like he couldn’t wait to leave your company. The thought was mildly sobering.
Perhaps she’s an ex. Geralt has had plenty of those.
“Yennefer…”
“Hello, Geralt,” her violet eyes lingered on him before sliding over to you. “Who might this be?”
You straightened your spine and smiled brightly at the woman, holding out your hand. You ignored the way she grimaced lightly as she took it, instead giving her your name.
“I’m his lover.”
Yennefer quirked a brow, lips pursed tight like she knew something you didn’t.
“Are you now?”
You nodded, and Geralt sighed. Jaskier guzzled his ale, looking between the three of you with an unreadable expression.
“Yen, what’re you doing here?”
Jaskier leaned closer to you, lips pressed to your ear.
“She’s a friend, sorceress too.”
Of course she is.
Geralt’s eyes slid to Jaskier for a second, before looking back at Yennefer.
“Hierarch Hemmelfart has requested my help with your contract.”
You looked in surprise at Geralt.
“What contract?”
Geralt simply pursed his lips at the sorceress, and Yennefer chuckled. She pulled up a chair from the next table over, delicately sitting down. Jaskier leaned closer into the table, scolding Geralt.
“You were just going to leave us here, weren’t you?”
“I… it was easier. This job will take at least a week.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, you stood up from the wooden table and shuffled your Nilfgaardian gwent cards, before grasping Jaskier’s shoulder.
“Come on, Jask. They clearly… have business to discuss.”
You have Geralt one long, meaningful look. Begging him to come for you, and not go on this excursion with Yennefer. But he didn’t stand up and come to you, and so you nodded before shuffling up the stairs with Jaskier.
“Is it selfish of me to not want him to go?” You mumbled, closing the door to yours and Geralt’s room, and flopping down on the bed. Jaskier sat gingerly beside you, a look of dismay on his otherwise charming face.
“No.”
You frowned, a bit unnerved by the bard's attitude. Jaskier was known for a lot of things, but being quiet was not one of them. Something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“Yennefer is… was… Geralt’s lover. We haven’t seen her in years, and… I honestly didn’t expect her to show up but I should have known. They’re destined to always find each other.”
You gulped, tongue as thick as cotton.
“Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you?”
Jaskier whipped his head up, eyes rimmed with tears. It made the venom on the tip of your tongue lessen.
“You have to believe me, I wanted to. But Geralt… Geralt is how he is, and he said he would tell you.”
“He didn’t.”
Jaskier nodded, and you sat in silence, thinking. Geralt had an ex, which was not uncommon, so why did this time feel different? You knew why, because this wasn’t like Geralt and Triss’s relearionship… what Jaskier said, that they’ll always find each other… it meant, to you, that they were destined for one another. Not only that, but said ex was currently here, and would be going on a week long excursion with your lover.
Fuck.
“Jaskier, you don’t think anything will happen, right?”
“I… we’ll just have to wait and see. But chin up my dear! Now we can have all the baths we want, while Geralt has to muck through mud and guts!”
You giggled, but in the back of your mind, you knew that once this week was over and they came back, everything would change.
The week had come and gone, with you and Jaskier staying at the Seven Cats’ inn and playing all the gwent you could.
When the morning sun gave way to the midnight sky, and the tavern patrons stumbled drunkenly out the door, you and Jaskier stayed up. Waiting. Waiting for the man you loved to come back to you.
And, thankfully, he did. It had to have been past one o’clock in the morn, when Geralt ambled into the warm building with blood and dirt and sweat ladened into his clothing.
You scrambled up from your chair, throwing your gwent cards down and flinging yourself across the mostly empty room, into the arms of Geralt. He grunted as you wrapped your arms around him tight, tight, tight. Breathing him in, you pressed your nose against the salty skin of his neck.
“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” you mumbled, the burn of tears lacing behind your eyes. A cough drew your attention, and you stood on your tiptoes to see behind Geralt. Yennefer stood, still like a statue as she stared at you. She looked worse for wear, too. You untangled your arms from Geralt, sheepishly smiling at the two.
“I’m sure you both could use a bath,” Yennefer rolled her eyes and barged past you, heading up the stairs. “Would you like help, Geralt?”
Your heart swelled with hope, but it shriveled into dust when he shook his head.
“Why don’t you finish your game?”
He didn’t wait for a response, giving you a tight smile before disappearing up the stairs, as well. You dropped your head, chest tight.
He just wants to be alone, that’s all. Stop being so selfish. Just focus on your game.
It was easier said than done, and as you bested Jaskier over and over you grew antsy. It had been at least thirty minutes since Geralt went to the room, and neither he nor Yennefer had come back.
Jaskier could see the way your face cinched up, eyes darting to the stairwell every few seconds. He placed his hand atop yours, a gentle smile on his lips.
“Go. I’ll be here, should you need me.”
You nodded, grateful, and scurried up the stairs. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you drew closer to where your room was. Stopping right outside the door, you held your breath. You could hear shuffling from the room, little gasps following.
Just open it.
Stealing yourself, you grasped the doorknob and swung it open. And you wished you hadn’t, because the sight you were met with was one you would never forget.
Geralt was on his back, big hands grasping the waist of Yennefer as she bounced on him, body barely covered by the fur blanket.
You gasped, stumbling backwards a bit. Yennefer halted her movements, throwing a look over her shoulder. Geralt slid her off him, sitting up and staring at you with widened eyes. Tears wanted to fall from your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them. You didn’t want to appear weak. Your breathing came out in unnatural puffs, and Geralt had the mind to look contrite.
“So I… I was the other woman? You… you’re still with her?”
Geralt opened his mouth, eyes darting from your face to Yennefer’s.
“I didn’t… I care about you, but Yen… Yen is…”
He couldn’t explain it, and truthfully you didn’t need him to. Seeing what they were doing made it more than clear. Geralt may care about you, but he would never love you, a mere human, like he could a sorceress. The villagers had been right, after all.
You sucked in a large breath, arms wrapping around your body. Keeping your eyes firmly on the ground, you walked into the room fully and started gathering your meager things.
“What’re you doing?” Geralt mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Yennefer placed a soothing hand on his back, but he shrugged her off. Her touch felt… wrong, all of a sudden.
“Gonna… g-gonna get anoth-another room.”
Your voice shook heavily, and when the last of your clothing was in your knapsack, you hightailed it to the door. Geralt didn’t stop you.
Trudging down the stairs, your weeping eyes found Jaskier almost instantly. He was as pale as a ghost, blue eyes glued to his tankard of alcohol.
“Jaskier…”
Your voice came out but a whisper, and your legs wobbled. The feelings you had tried hard to keep under wraps upstairs came flooding out, and a sob left your lips before you could stop it. Jaskier was immediately up and running to you, wrapping you in a warm embrace. His actions were all you longed for from Geralt.
“I’m here, I’m here,” he chanted, stroking your back. You stayed like that for a few minutes, before Jaskier hauled you up and into his room to sleep for the night.
“Tomorrow, we’ll discuss what has happened. For now, sleep,” he said, smiling down at you from his perch atop the bed. You nodded, eyelids feeling heavy. Vaguely, you could hear Jaskier and Geralt’s voice, but you were too tired to do anything.
Geralt awoke to incessant banging on his room door, and he groaned quietly before looking around. Yennefer was not in bed, a note in her place.
‘See you soon.’
- Y
Classic Yennefer, he thought.
The banging quickened, and Geralt sighed heavily before stomping to the door and opening it. He was met with Jaskier’s tear stained face, the bard breathing heavily.
Jaskier yelled your name, and last night came flooding back to Geralt. The contract, coming back to the inn, fucking Yennefer… and then… and then you walking in. Shame bridled hotly beneath Geralt’s skin, and he wanted to curse himself. He had told himself that the night before they headed back to the Seven Cats’ inn would be the last time he fucked Yennefer, and yet he did it again. Near you, no less!
Fuck.
Geralt grasped Jaskier’s shirt and flung him in the room, slamming the door before hunting down his gear and weapons.
“Do you know where she is?”
“I wouldn’t fucking be here if I did! Fuck Geralt, how — how could you do this? She loved you!”
Geralt deserved each harsh word, and yet as Jaskier kept spitting venom tipped curses at the Witcher, he couldn’t help but feel pain grip his heart. He truly had fucked up, he knew that.
“I know I fucked up, bard.”
Jaskier nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He stopped pacing around the room, instead gathering the little trinkets you had forgotten to grab last night. The little brooch of a wolf head you had gotten from one of the Temeria stalls, and the clean and crisp dagger Geralt had bought you from the smithy in town. Even if you didn’t want these things anymore, Jaskier took them for you.
“Maybe the innkeeper saw her?” Jaskier suggested.
“Hmm.”
And the two were off, shambling down the creaking stairs and into the main room of the tavern. The owner stood behind the bar, twirling his thick mustache in his fingers. Geralt strode over, slamming his fist down and garnering the attention of all the patrons. He ignored their sneering in favor of snarling at the owner, baring his teeth.
“Do you know where she is?”
The owner chuckled, a bead of sweat dripping into his brow.
“Who?”
A patron jeered, “Talkin’ ‘bout yer whore, Witcha? Think she’s at my house!”
Boisterous laughter filled the room, a cacophony so loud Geralt shuddered in discomfort. He whirled on the man, about ready to kill him. But he didn’t have to, because Jaskier was already throwing a punch at the homely man. Geralt smirked, pride rising. He turned back to the innkeeper and raised a brow.
“S-Said she was gonna hit the road she did! N-Not sure where she be headed, honest!”
Geralt could tell the man was speaking true, but that didn’t stop Geralt from grasping the sweat laced shirt of the owner and thrusting him closer.
Geralt whispered, “If I find out you’re lying…”
He didn’t have to say anything other than that, because the man quickly nodded and started spewing prayers for mercy. Geralt shoved the man away, and he and Jaskier strode out of the inn.
“Where are we going?” Jaskier heaved, shaking his hand out and grunting in pain.
“Shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wasn’t going to let them speak about her like that. Would you have?”
“…No.”
Jaskier nodded resolutely, and the two made their way to the stables on the outskirts of Novigrad. The stable man nodded in acknowledgment while Geralt slung himself up on the saddle, patting Roach’s side affectionately.
“We’ll travel the road east, see if we can’t find her in Oxenfurt.”
The road to the esteemed city was long, and tiring. It took two weeks before the trio reached the gates of Oxenfurt. Grand streets housed even grander buildings, with stalls dotting the roads. Geralt gave Roach to the stableman with a whicker from the horse, and he and Jaskier made their way into Oxenfurt. Loud smells, and even louder people enveloped Geralt’s senses.
“Where should we start?”
“Inn.”
Geralt and Jaskier walked the winding dirt paths at a hurried pace, but when they got to the inn in town, the keeper had no idea who you were. Stepping outside the lively inn, Geralt growled into the air.
“Fuck!” Geralt snarled, teeth bared in anger. He could faintly smell your scent, mingling with all of the others.
“I know she’s here.”
“How do you know that? Maybe she took off, could be halfway to Temeria by now!” Jaskier grumbled with a heavy heart. Truthfully, he knew why you wouldn’t want to be in Geralt’s company, but to just leave him without a goodbye? It hurt Jaskier more than he cared to admit.
“I can smell her scent.”
“Well, that’s not weird at all,” Jaskier snarked. Geralt minutely smiled, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Come on,” he said, walking towards the abundance of stalls that housed luxury items. Some held perfumes, incense, and others held fresh pastries. Geralt could see the appeal of living in Oxenfurt, but he much preferred the open road and Kaer Morhen.
They spent the next hour scouring the various marketplaces, inns, and alleys. And just when Geralt was going to give up, admit that he lost you, he smelt your scent stronger than ever. Jaskier bumped into him when Geralt suddenly stopped, and the bard huffed obnoxiously.
“Why’d you stop? Now my poor beautiful nose hurts! What’ll I tell the ladies? You’ve ruined my complex —!”
“Shut up.”
Jaskier quieted down, and Geralt slowly turned. He softly called your name, and Jaskier whirled around as well, heart stopping when he saw you standing there.
Geralt raked his eyes over your form, taking you in. You looked the same, but Geralt could see your eyes… they seemed more weary and desolate. Like you had lost your spirit.
“Geralt? Jaskier? What’re… you doing here?” You questioned, raising a shaking hand to your chest. Seeing Geralt so soon hurt, like your bandaged heart was being ripped open and stuffed with white hot salt that made it sting a thousand times worse.
Jaskier took a step towards you, and you smiled gently and nodded. He envelopes you with a bone crushing hug, kissing the side of your head.
“Never leave me like that again, or I’ll write such a scathing ballad about you!”
You laughed, tears welling up in your eyes.
“I’m sorry for leaving. I…”
Jaskier nodded and released you, and Geralt finally walked towards you and opened his arms. You sidestepped his hug, and sighed at him.
“Please leave, Geralt.”
Geralt looked struck with pain, face tight. His jaw clenched painfully, and he dropped his arms to his sides.
“I — forgive me. Come back to me, I… it was a mistake. I know I love you.”
You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.
“Jaskier told me, Geralt,” looking him in the eye, you continued. “As tragic as it is… you and Yennefer are meant to be. I can’t compare to that, and we… we both know it. You may love me, but I’ll never be the second woman again.”
Geralt could see how hard those words were for you to say, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.
“No I —.”
“Just answer me this, will you?”
“Anything,” Geralt said. And he meant it.
“Did you… have relations with her any other time when you were with me?”
Geralt’s face screwed up in pain, but he nodded briskly. You sighed, shoulders slumping.
“When?”
“During Hierarch Hemmelfart’s contract.”
“I see,” you turned away from Geralt and Jaskier. “Goodbye, Geralt.”
Jaskier led you as you walked down the winding roads of Oxenfurt, and once again, Geralt didn’t follow you.
I saw your need for requests, and I come bearing a request! Could you write a Geralt/Male!Reader in which Geralt comes home super dirty and very tired but his boyfriend takes care of him ( I.e. bathes him, bushes his teeth/hair etc. pretty much whatever you feel like writing 😂); And then brings him to bed and tucks him in? Just anything super sweet and fluffy because he deserves all of that and more! Plus I’m a sucker for reverse comfort fics. Hopefully more requests come your way and you can get back into your writing groove! 💖💗
Pairing: Geralt x M!Reader
Words: 337
A/N: So I decided to merge these two together since they’re kinda similar and I went off the top of my head, I don't know what I did
With his boots shuffling against the floorboards, he toes them off, noting in mind to clean the mud and blood off of them later on as he can’t be bothered right now.
As he lifts his head up, he sees steam come out of the bathtub, knowing that his husband ran it for him.
Geralt knows not to deny your love languages for him, so he strips out of his armour and clothes as he walks over to the bathtub. He eases his body into it, groaning in satisfaction as the heated water relaxes his muscles. He feels his eyes become droopy, so he closes them and rests.
He wakes up moments later to feel you brush his hair. Moaning a bit, he tilts his head to the side, feeling the plush of your thigh against his cheek as he closes his eyes again.
You smile, tying his white hair into a ponytail. “Food’s waiting for you.”
Geralt groans tiredly, meaning that he doesn’t want to move. “I’ve gotta clean my boots, clothes, and armour.”
“Already done, out on the line.”
He lifts his head off your thigh to look over at his said clothes and armour near the fire on a line, his boots clean of mud and blood. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jaskier runs in, going on about something.
“Jaskier!” Geralt growls out, making the bard shut up.
“Oh, sorry, coming back later.” Jaskier is out of your sight within seconds.
Geralt plops his face back against your leg, not liking how he got disturbed. He groans in disagreement as he feels you move out from the back of him. “Bed, now. I’ll bring you some food.”
As he’s about to say something again, you interrupt him. “Roach is fed and brushed.”
He finally gets out of the bathtub, feeling you dry his body with a warm towel. “Mm.” He leans his body against you, pushing his face against your neck.
“The scary Witcher going soft for his husband.”
“Shut up.”
Henry Cavill + Characters Tags
@enchantedbytomandhenry
The Witcher Tags
@justreadingficsdontmindme
@chrisevansangel
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.
