Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3
Destiny
pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader
word count⁀➷ 1.5k
summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)
warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once
a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!
🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷
You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.
Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.
It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.
Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.
You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.
When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.
"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.
Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.
"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.
The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.
"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.
There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.
He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.
"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.
He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,
"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.
"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.
"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.
"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."
He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.
The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.
"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.
"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.
"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.
You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.
He had saved you.
"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.
Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."
He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."
You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.
You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.
"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."
"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.
Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.
All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.
However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.
„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"
Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."
He got down, careful not to hurt you.
Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.
"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.
"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.
"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.
He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.
He carefully laid you down on the small bed.
Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.
Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.
Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.
"Thank you, Witcher.".
"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.
While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.
With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.
Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.
Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.
"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."
You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.
Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.
He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.
Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.
The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.
Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.
His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.
When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."
༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.
Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡
-> Summary: Geralt of Rivia faces the impossible: he is defeated by a monster and, in the middle of trying to escape after being severally wounded, finds a cabin, where a witch who knows what he needs, cures him.
-> Rating: +18
-> Word count: 2.2k
-> Warnings: smut, kinks including breeding, rough sex, neck biting until blood comes out, degradation, domination, a little bit of praise kink, dirty talking
-> Notes: i've been rewatching the witcher and reading lots of fanfics, i got so in the mood of writing a piece and i hope you enjoy it! <3
Geralt of Rivia rode through the dense, ancient Caed Dhu forest, his silver hair glistening in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He had been on the path for days, following rumors of a dangerous creature that plagued the nearby village.
As he ventured deeper into the woods, he couldn't shake the feeling that this particular hunt would be different.
In the heart of the treacherous Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia, the renowned Witcher, found himself in a dire predicament. A contract had led him deep into the ancient woods, where he faced a foe more formidable than any he had encountered before. The beast, a grotesque hybrid of wolf and wyrm, had proven to be a match for Geralt's skill and swordsmanship.
As the moon hung low in the night sky, Geralt's silver sword clanged against the creature's impenetrable scales. The battle had raged for hours, and his strength waned with every strike. Blood oozed from numerous wounds, staining his armor and leather boots. His trademark white hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, and his golden eyes burned with determination.
But in a moment of miscalculation, the beast lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut around Geralt's forearm. Pain seared through his body as his bones cracked, and he let out a roar of agony. With a swift, desperate maneuver, he wrenched his arm free, leaving shreds of flesh in the creature's maw.
Battered and bloodied, Geralt knew he was outmatched. With a heavy heart and aching limbs, he made a fateful decision. He turned and sprinted through the darkened forest, leaving behind the monster he could not defeat. His every step sent waves of agony through his injured arm, but he pushed himself to the limit.
As he escaped, he couldn't help but reflect on his countless battles, his victories, and his unshakable resolve. Yet, this time, survival took precedence over valor. The Caed Dhu closed in around him, a labyrinth of twisted trees and shadowy threats. Geralt, the fearless Witcher, ran for his life, vowing to return to face the beast another day, once he had healed and prepared for the inevitable rematch.
Deep within the heart of the dense and mysterious Caed Dhu, Geralt of Rivia stumbled upon an unexpected sanctuary. The cabin's solitude was a haven for a Witcher in need, a sanctuary where he could mend his battered body and prepare for the inevitable return to the treacherous wilderness.
The cabin stood as a solitary sentinel in the depths of the forest, its timeworn facade hidden beneath a canopy of thick foliage. With aching limbs and a resolve unyielding as steel, Geralt pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dimly lit interior.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of herbs and alchemical concoctions. The flickering candlelight revealed a modest yet well-equipped witch's lair. Shelves lined with vials of potions and bundles of dried herbs stretched to the ceiling. A cauldron simmered with a mysterious brew, its aroma tinged with both magic and healing properties.
He needed rest and healing. Inside the cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. The scent of herbs and potions filled the air, a telltale sign of a fellow witch's presence. He knew he wasn't alone.
From the shadows, your hooded figure emerged, revealing the gentle features of a young witch. You had been tracking his progress and had prepared the cabin for his arrival.
He got a closer look of you, which allowed him to see the medallion of the Viper, which matched your dark green eyes, that were glistening under the candle's light. You were, definitely, one of the few Witches left after the Trials that erased most of them from the surface of Earth.
Without a word, you approached Geralt and began to help him remove his clothes, your touch gentle yet firm. As the clothing fell away, his battle-worn body was exposed, covered in cuts and bruises. He hissed in pain as you examined his wounds.
"I'll take care of you, Geralt," you murmured softly, your voice soothing. You mixed herbs and applied salves, tending to each injury with practiced care. Your fingers moved with a grace born of years of training.
Geralt watched you work, silently grateful for your presence. The pain began to ebb away as your healing magic flowed through him, knitting his flesh together.
Once the wounds were tended to, you stepped back, your eyes meeting his yellowish ones with a warmth that belied the harsh world they inhabited.
"Rest now," you said, guiding him to a nearby bed. "You've earned it."
As he lay down, his body slowly relaxing, Geralt couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the kindred spirit who had tended to his wounds. In a world filled with darkness and danger, he had found a glimmer of light and solace in your healing touch.
Also, your touch brought up a slow burning fire within him, making him feeling the need in his body to bring you closer, to lick you, to taste you. He needed to show gratefulness by giving pleasure to you after healing him with such care and knowledge... as if you knew exactly how his body reacted to each one of the remedies you were using. That made the White Wolf groan in approval.
He couldn't help but grab your wrist before you stepped back, not applying so much pressure to hurt you, but enough strength to keep you where you stood. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, making you stare back at his intense stare.
He started slowly and gently rubbing your inner wrist, where your pulse was accelerated, with his thumb calming it, you, without words, and no further movements needed.
"You're safe, Geralt. You made it home. Let me go, and you rest." You whispered, not wanting to break the calm and enchanted ambience. You don't know how you managed to sound firm, calm, steady and confident, but your tone left no doubts.
He kept staring at you, his jaw tense while the candles in the cabin lightened his skin, and you couldn't help but break eye contact and admire his body. His injured body. But, also, his fit figure.
Suddenly, Geralt pulled you into him without effort, and a groan escaped from him, low and deep. Something that made your body really happy, but you knew you couldn't risk hurting him more than he already was. You needed him fully recovered.
"If you want to keep that hand and arm, I'd suggest you let go." You had no choice but to warn him.
"I can smell you, Witch." He simply replied, his voice low and raspy, while not letting you go. You swallowed the lump in your throat, as you smelled his arousal, too. There was no possible denial in what was going around between you two, in that cabin, as the darkness of the night and the moonlit mixed with the candles surrounding you both.
With his other hand, he grabbed the Viper medallion hanging from your neck, pulling your face closer to his while keeping his firm stare at you. You could even notice the smallest of the dilation of his pupils in that position.
"After taking care of me, let me take care of your needs, witch." Geralt whispered. You knew fighting him was useless, and you couldn't deny the way your body was craving him, either. He tilted his body, not giving a flying fuck about his fresh wounds.
You stared down at his lips, and back to his eyes. He grinned a little before grabbing your medallion and pulling you close until both of your lips were a wet mess against each other, not even letting the air pass between you two.
You moaned against his lips, your groans and whines making him feel rougher and animalistic each passing second. His hands were everywhere on your body, not allowing even one millimeter of skin escape from his touch.
No previous warning, he ripped your dress from behind and continued tearing off your undergarments. You were speechless as you could only feel him. You tried touching him, but he didn’t allow that. He had you naked in front of him in a matter of seconds.
Furthermore, you looked into his eyes, waiting for his next move. "Geralt-" You were anxious for more of what he had to offer.
"You're exquisite, aren't you, witch?" He was appreciative of your exposed body in front of him, meanwhile using your condition as a pet name, which didn't annoy you at all.
He took your silence as an invitation to switch positions, grabbing you by a fistful by your long hair, having you bent over the same surface he was laying on not long ago.
Geralt directed his right hand to your pussy, moving his fingers between your folds while humming appreciatively at your wetness. The sounds filling the room, and the sights you had thanks to the little mirror that wasn't too far away on the wall in front of you, were too much to handle. It didn't take long for your thighs to begin to shake, and the White Wolf knew it too.
His hand, which was teasing you, was now wrapped around your small neck, pushing you down, taking out his digits, spreading you apart with his large girth, and slamming into your cunt.
As you wrapped your small hand around his, he tightened his hold on your neck, taking your gesture as an invitation to be rougher.
He tilted his body on top of your back, replacing the hold of his hand on your neck with his teeth burying in the delicate spot of your skin, as he kept slamming into your wetness, and you could feel his medallion swinging over you as his movement fastened, and his cock was buried deep, still pounding, into you.
"Ah, fuck, Geralt." You mumbled, not being able to keep your eyes out of the reflection in the mirror. The candles lightning his sweated skin, you underneath him as he dominated you on that unstable surface and his aura surrounding your senses.
Your hips began to move on his, as you needed that sweet relief. Geralt's bite on your neck became harder and you could feel and smell a bit of blood running down your skin, which heated up both of you even more, if possible.
His groans were louder against you, the slamming of his cock inside of you more frenetic and he dug his nails into the sides of your hips to keep you steady. He let go of your neck to press his mouth on your shoulder. "You're so fucking tight and behaving like a good girl," he moaned. "Keep milking me, witch, so I can breed you and fill you up with my cum until it oozes out."
The way he was talking to you, saying those things, had you closer to the edge. You needed to feel his cock pulsate inside of you, stretching you out and getting you full of him. Your moans were unstoppable as nonsense dripped out of your mouth.
"I wanna see those pretty thighs of yours covered with my cum." Geralt wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in place as he circled your nipple with his thumb and index, pinching it.
“Yes, Geralt, yes." Your mind was blank, dazzled with lust and desire, almost making you forget your own name.
Your thighs began to shake, and he felt them, “Yes, witch, come all over my cock.” His encouraging, husky voice praised you. You called out the White Wolf's name, your orgasm hitting hard and uncontrollably, your head dizzy as you saw stars and lights in your vision.
You felt Geralt exploding inside of you, with a few more snaps of his hips against your ass you felt his girth tighten up, and a few more spurts of his cum filling you up as you rode off your orgasm.
"Fuck, you milked me so good, you emptied me, didn't you?" He moaned and grunted again as he felt your pussy tightening lightly on him. "What kind of witchcraft did you use on me, huh?"
He let go of your breast, not moving his position so you were still under his dominant figure while his cock rested inside of you, feeling your thighs sticky of his cum and other mix of fluids.
"Well, you loved the way I was curing you earlier and the attention I gave you, didn't you, Witcher?"
"I'm not one to turn down a healing session when I'm offered one." Geralt whispered in your ear, still not getting off you. "But what's the catch?"
You smiled, feeling chills down your spine. "The catch is, I get to pamper every inch of you and make sure you're completely healed."
"I think I can handle that kind of catch."
Did you enjoy it? Please, consider leaving a comment, reblogging, sending feedback in any way or buying me a coffee. If you would like to request something, go and message me. Also, if you'd like, you can check my masterlist or send me any prompts. Happy reading!
Hello! May I please request the December prompt “snowball fight” + Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher) please? Thank you so much! Hope you have a lovely Christmas! :) <3
I just had to set this in the Cottage universe bc Geralt deserves some fun and fluff with his healer and Ciri! I hope you have a wonderful Christmas when it comes, dear one 🥰
It was Ciri who threw the first snowball, confirming what you had known since the day you had met her: she was the bravest lass you knew.
As you watched the snowball explode against Geralt’s back in a shock of white against the black of his tunic, however, and watched the Witcher straighten slowly to his full height without turning around, you couldn’t help but think that it would perhaps be the last thing she ever did. She met your eyes across the garden and let out a nervous giggle as he turned, one raised brow the only hint at his emotions as he looked from Ciri to you and back again.
“Cirilla,” he said, a warning. The princess gulped audibly and you cleared your throat.
“How do you know it was Ciri?” you asked, crossing your arms, “You had your back to us.”
He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.
“It wasn’t you.”
It was your turn to raise your eyebrows.
“And just how do you know that?”
His grin was little more than a twitch of his lips.
“You would have missed.”
Ciri whistled lowly as he turned his back on you both again, returning to his task of repairing the fence around your vegetable patch as you stared at him indignantly. The princess, wrapped up snugly in one of your old winter dresses that you had altered for her, crossed the garden and held out another snowball that she had prepared to you.
“I’ll give you a crown if you prove him wrong,” she whispered, her voice full of the kind of mischief befitting a girl of her age. It warmed you against the cold to get a glimpse of it, to see her getting to take a break from destiny and just be a child. “Two crowns if you hit his head.”
Taking the snowball from her and weighing it in your hand, you grinned at her.
“I’d get your purse out if I were you, princess,” you teased, “I’ll have those two crowns.”
Time seemed to slow as your snowball flew through the air. Even as it left your hand, you knew that it was on course to hit its target on the back of Geralt’s head, and you tasted glory even before it hit home.
What you couldn’t have prepared for, however, was him turning round just in time for the snowball to hit him in the face.
You wondered if there would be somewhere for you to spend your two crowns in the afterlife.
Ciri’s laughter rang out through the freezing air at the sight of her mentor, snow dripping down his face and melting into his hair, his expression stunned. You realised a second too late that your hand was still raised from the throw, as good as a confession of guilt.
“Oops?” you offered weakly.
He didn’t respond, his expression unreadable, and you found yourself holding your breath as you watched him. Perhaps he would storm off, or shout at you, or shout at you and then storm off. The thought that you might have upset him made your gut twist painfully so that you didn’t notice at first as he knelt slowly to scoop up a handful of powdery snow.
Ciri, brave as she was, started to run at the sight of it, her laughter fading into the safety of your cottage before the door slammed shut.
“Come here,” he ordered, amusement creeping into the growl of his voice. You shook your head rapidly, taking a step backwards, and his grin was wolfish as he followed. “Come here.”
“No chance!”
You turned on your heel to run and barely a second later he was on you, one arm looping around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. His breath was hot against your ear as he huffed out a laugh at the squeal you let out. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpsed his hand bringing the snowball towards your face and your own hands shot out to grab his wrist.
“Got you,” he growled playfully in your ear, and you had to bite your lip at the way the words made your stomach flip not unpleasantly, “Now what shall I do with you?”
“Please have mercy on me, Witcher,” you pleaded, fighting the urge to giggle even as the snowball in his hand inched closer to your face, “Mercy, please!”
His chest was shaking with laughter against your back; he was enjoying the game. You both knew that your hands on his wrist were doing nothing to stop him, that he was selfishly choosing to prolong the interaction. It sent heat through your veins to know that he liked being pressed against you as much as you liked it.
“I could show you mercy,” he mused aloud, his nose brushing the skin behind your ear and making you shiver, “But that wouldn’t be as fun.”
summary ~ geralt was never a man of many words, so he does what he can to show how he feels for you.
warnings ~ fluff!! mild language, gross man tries some verbal harrasment, intimidation & unwanted touching, (geralt saves the day!), hurt/comfort, mention of reader wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury, mutual pining but they're idiots, minor angst, not good self talk, mention of feelings of worthlessness
a/n ~ uh oh friends i accidentally opened a doc and this happened, i am an absolute sap for pet names and goodness gracious writing a fic about a geralt giving a pet name escalated into this, so i hope you all enjoy!! mwauh!!
Petal.
A delicate, weak thing that floats away on the breeze at the mere mention of any danger.
Even when you had tried to prove yourself time and time again that you were certainly not either of those things
It was still what he called you.
"I don't need anything, especially not from you" He had huffed at you during your initial meeting
You tried not to be taken aback but his gruffness, you had been told of Witcher's harsh nature's your entire life, hearing the stories and songs of their exploits throughout your village since you were small, but still, you had never expected to meet one, nor had you expected for any of them to be quite so large.
When he finally stood to his full height, you had to actively make sure to keep your mouth closed in fear it might fall to the floor if you let it act on it's own accord.
Though he was much taller than you, you refused to be intimidated by him, still standing your ground before him, thankful your dress covered your legs, less anyone see your trembling knees.
The brunette beside you still persisted. "She's perfect, I promise, and we'll never have to see her again afterwards, hm?" He turned to you with a smile, and you shook your head earnestly, though you couldn't deny how some part of you longed to stay with the pair longer than for just this.
The white haired man took you in once again, his heated gaze traveling from your slightly worn shoes to your hair as if he were appraising you like a cow from market. He finally sighed, "Fine." He grumbled, almost slamming his mug down on the wooden bar.
"I think he likes you" The other man commented, gently placing his hand on your lower back as the both of you followed the Witcher out the front door.
It was surely an unconventional way of meeting, but there seemed to be nothing truly conventional about either of the pair, Jaskier and Geralt as you later learned. You would have expected such a harsh man would have taken up more, like-minded companions, but the more you witnessed Jaskier's sunny disposition combating with Geralt's brash nature, the more you felt that this pairing was one that was always meant to be.
Though your addition to the group was quite unexpected.
You were only supposed to be nothing more than midnight Striga bait, something to lure it out into the forest, only to be hopefully saved at the last second by Geralt's skill. That was all you were supposed to be, but as your heart raced that night, feelings of both fear and excitement pulsing through your veins, as shadows cast by the full moon danced around you, you knew you couldn't go back to your village. How could you? All your life, you had only ever known muddy streets and market barkers and clouds that never seemed to allow the sunshine to peak through. How could you ever return to any of that, when just these few moments in darkness gave you more adventure than in any of your years of living in the light of your town.
Jaskier seemed to notice that particular glint in your eye once the deed had been done.
"Wasn't she helpful?" He smirked, "Maybe we should keep bringing her along?"
Geralt only grunted in response as he looked upon the now deceased creature.
You tried your best to hide the smile that threatened to split your cheeks at the thought, you could only imagine what a week with them would be like if this was just one night.
"I mean..." Jaskier sauntered slowly over to him, "She did catch us this Stri-"
Geralt turned to him in an instant, a wordless, piercing snarl plastered on his face, and you felt a slight twinge of disappointment at his obvious disdain at the thought of you joining them.
"It would take us another three days to bring her back, it would just make things quicker if she stayed with us, and, no offense" He quickly turned to you, "I'd rather continue on, than have to travel three extra days back to that shit hole."
Geralt hummed, turning to you now, and in the pale light of the moon that shown through the trees, you swore you saw him appraising you once again just as he had when he first met you.
"We're taking you back as soon as this is over." He spat as he walked towards you, shouldering past you as he stomped through the woods.
Jaskier flashed a quick smile at you, "He'll come 'round, he always does."
One week turned to two, two turned to three, weeks turned to months, and you still continued to be brought along on adventures with the two, experiences that you never could have imagined partaking in, in even your wildest dreams, were now things that you experienced on a fairly regular basis.
You saw kingdoms, glittering castles, and kindhearted princesses. You witnessed the fiercest monsters and the most entrancing magic, the adventures you had always been warned to stay away from, you found yourself right in the middle of all of them.
Though as thrilling as your new life was, sometimes you would miss your somewhat-soft bed and the comfort of knowing you would always have some place warm to stay, but you made the most of what you had, savoring the creature comforts you came across as much as you could when you did gather enough coin for a night or two stay at a local inn.
It was on one of these particular nights when he had first called you that.
Petal.
Geralt had sent you in with a small satchel to pay for the rooms while he hitched Roach on one of the posts outside of the inn.
It was an infrequent occasion when you had enough to rent three separate rooms for yourselves, but monsters were not an infrequent occurrence around these parts, and the influx in beasts also meant a slight raise in pay.
"Three rooms, please" You spoke softly, stifling a yawn with your hand as you did. It had been a long journey, and both you and Jaskier knew no one but Geralt was allowed to even touch Roach, so walking long distances was something you had gotten used to, though getting accustomed to the walking didn't mean you had grown to be any less exhausted after the lengthy journeys.
"One room." The main replied sharply, snapping you from you exhaustion almost immediately. "I only see one of ya. One room."
"Sir-"
"One room." He looked you over, a sort of repugnant heat in his gaze that you didn't quite care for. "One room... For the pretty lady all alone at night... Not very proper of ya" He scoffed.
Your stomach turned at the man's words as he circled around the desk, only pausing when he stood directly beside you.
"My friends are right outside. They'll be here in a minute." You hastily replied, not bothering to make eye contact with the man.
You visibly recoiled when you felt his hot breath suddenly fan across your cheek. "Y'er friends aren't here now are they? One. Room."
You quickly jumped from the mans touch on your waist, and finally turning fully towards him, you saw how his smile was a nauseating mix of yellows and greens as he sneered at you, creeping closer to you as you now felt yourself being cornered in between the corner of the small desk and the wall opposite.
"Well, if y'er gonna be so impolite, no room then." The man towered over you, and although you tried to keep calm, you couldn't help the way your breath shook as you stared up at the man.
The sudden sound of the swinging front doors slamming against the walls made you jump, "Petal!" You heard Geralt call.
The man almost instantly stepped away from you, his gaze now pointing to the floor. You turned to Geralt, your eyes wide with confusion and shock.
"Was wondering if you had gotten our rooms" He added, calmly sauntering over to you and gently placing a firm hand on your lower back, pushing you quickly out of the corner and into his side.
Your mind was racing, both from the shock of the inn keeper's advances and Geralt's sudden entrance and even more sudden touches. It wasn't like he hadn't ever touched you before, it was only that this felt different. Other times, he had just aimlessly grabbed at you, quickly pulling you away and out of reach from whatever creature you found yourselves up against, those touches were rough and almost meaningless, he was only saving you because he had to. You knew you were nothing but another burden for him to worry about on those hunts.
This was different. This was soft, protective, and for a moment, you even thought it was something akin to caring.
You could hear the door shudder behind you again and you could tell it was Jaskier, a soft 'oh' coming from behind you as he watched the situation unfold.
"I was just tellin' her we got three rooms just for ya right next to each other, down that hall" The man rushed, pointing down the dimly lit hallway with shaky fingers, "Just straight to the left."
Geralt took the small bag from you, reaching into it and placing a handful of coins on the counter. "Thank you" He mumbled, an intimidating glare on his face before he led you off.
You noticed how few coins he had given the man as you passed the counter and knew it was nowhere near the actual cost for three rooms, yet the man still didn't dare to say a thing as you three walked off.
Probably a matter of self preservation more than anything.
You opened the door to your room, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as you felt the warmth of the small bedroom already begin to flood your shaken senses.
"Are you alright?"
Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected voice that came from behind you, turning quickly to see that Geralt still lingered in the doorway.
"Fine," You sputtered, "Just a little shaken, that's all."
"Are you sure?"
You had never seen him so concerned, his brows were furrowed as he looked at you, his lips drawn into a thin line of concern.
You smiled softly at him, "I'm fine, I promise, just need some rest." You threw your arms above your head as you yawned once again.
"That's... Good." The words seemed to almost pain Geralt to say, like he was confessing something to you he hadn't even confessed to himself yet.
"Thank you, though, for your help." You smiled, a foreign heat blooming in your chest as you uttered the words.
Geralt didn't respond at first, his head tilting to the floor, though you swore you watched the beginnings of a smile begin to turn the corners of his lips. He mumbled a quiet "Goodnight", as his eyes flickered to you form, quickly looking you up and down again before shutting the door behind him, leaving you no less astonished then you were before.
The morning came all too quickly, after a rather sleepless night, you felt yourself longing for another night's stay, and if it weren't for the previous night's events, you thought that maybe you would have been able to convince Geralt to stay one more night, but you knew neither him, nor you would want to stay another evening under the same roof with that man.
You weren't sure if you would have gotten much sleep regardless.
The word echoed through your fatigue-addled mind, even as you felt yourself slowly pulled to consciousness by the slivers of sunlight that peaked through the thin curtains in the bedroom.
Petal.
He could have just called you by your name, it wasn't like he didn't know it by now. But Geralt was strategic, he never did anything without a reason, so maybe it was just a tactic to get the man away from you? Imply that the two of you were a bit more familiar to scare the man off?
"How are you faring?" Jaskier asked, tearing you from your thoughts as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.
"I'm fine" You replied, staring to feel like a broken record, "I am, Geralt seemed to come in just in time though" You chuckled lightly, both watching him as Geralt readied Roach
"He always has a way of knowing when you're in trouble" Jaskier mumbled
"What-" You were quickly cut off by the familiar whinny of Roach, the both of you instinctively aligning yourselves on the side of her as she made her way through the town.
Jaskier only let out a smug, self satisfied hum, continuing to look forward and leaving you to torture yourself with your own thoughts.
You couldn't tell how long it had been since you left the inn, it could have been days since and you probably wouldn't have noticed, your brain only occupied by the teasing phrase Jaskier had spoken to you.
"Are you alright?" You heard Geralt's coarse voice utter once again, you huffed in frustration, how many times must everyone ask you that?
"Yes." You answered sharply, though a strange, pained feeling washed over you at your tone towards him, you chose not to think too much on it now. You finally turned up to him, noticing how he had suddenly stopped, the abrupt pause had Jaskier also now looking to him, his head tilted in confusion.
If you had blinked, you would have missed it at the speed at which Geralt dismounted, but he now stood directly in front of you, his face only inches from your own, and your chest filled with that unfamiliar, warm feeling from before.
"You can ride... If you'd like..." He finally spoke, his eyes never meeting your own as he did.
You had to stifle the scoff that threatened to leave your lips, for a moment you wondered if some Doppler had snuck into his room at night and taken his place, but then you looked into his eyes, that same unintelligible bashfulness when he stood in your doorway had appeared in his eyes once again.
"That would be nice... Thank you" You would have been a fool to say no, this would surely be the only time he would ever offer for anyone to take his place on Roach. Not only that, but you felt yourself thinking of how his face would possibly fall if you denied him, and you almost winced at the thought.
With just as much suddenness as the night before, his large hands wrapped around your waist, "May I?" He asked, a surprisingly timid smile appearing on his face.
You nodded softly, your eyes growing wide when he lifted you onto the horse as if you weighed nothing. You swallowed thickly as you adjusted yourself on Roach, nodding again as Geralt began to pull on her reigns to continue the journey.
You looked around you, sighing as you admired the new view from atop the horse, but even as you admired your surroundings, you still heard the soft grumble that came from the man.
"Petal"
You were too stunned to say anything, you almost thought you had imagined it, but the annoyed groan from Jaskier beside you only confirmed what you now knew to be true, he had said it again.
There was a long journey ahead, but you noticed how you seemed to dread it a little bit less.
You weren't even supposed to be there.
Both you and Jaskier had initially stayed back at the small camp you had set up that morning, peacefully enjoying some tea you had managed to make after several failed attempts of starting a fire.
Geralt said it was to be simple, nothing he hadn't done before, but something about the deafening silence you both heard when the lake was so close, had something uneasy settle in your stomachs.
"Geralt?" Jaskier called, the both of you now sitting in anxious silence as you awaited for some sign of life.
Though nothing came.
Jasker called his name again, his cries once more met with the same blaring quietness.
It was as if your legs moved on their own accord as you carelessly threw your small cup down, starting in the direction of the lake, ignoring the concerned yells from Jaskier as you did.
You weren't the monster hunting type, that's not what they had brought you on for in the first place.
You were bait at most, and someone to make tea at the least.
You didn't kill monsters.
You felt a fearful shudder run through you at the idea that you may actually have to fight something, this was nothing anyone had ever prepared you for, but you supposed there was a first for everything.
The foul smell of the bubbling water filled your nose first before you even began to see the lake, though still, you heard nothing.
You continued to sprint as fast as your legs could take you, silently praying to hear some sound, any sound, as you got closer.
A yell, a grunt, a whisper even, you'd take anything.
But still, the silence persisted.
You couldn't quiet the shocked yell that ripped through your lungs at the sight when you finally reached the body of water.
The monster was dead, and somewhat guiltily, you felt your shoulders sag in relief as you observed how it's limbs had been haphazardly thrown in all directions, and the familiar sword nestled within the top of it's skull. But laying along the muddy bank was Geralt, both hands pressing firmly on his side, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched.
You called his name, rushing to his side, almost sliding across the ooze-covered ground as you knelt beside him.
As if he sensed your presence, he moaned, sluggishly turning his head to you.
"What happened?" You asked frantically, he only moaned again in response and you huffed, distraught and almost delirious as your eyes scanned him.
As you sat beside him and got a closer look at his form, you could tell he was bleeding, a dark, crimson liquid leaking between fingers he pressed so snugly against his side. You tried to calm yourself as your frenzied hands wandered his chest and torso, searching for any other injuries, you knew he had to be taken back to the camp, but you were also certain you wouldn't be able to drag him back there on your own, nor did you think that even with you and Jaskier's strength combined you would be able to do so, leaving you with only one other option.
"Geralt?" He groaned, his eyes now blinking open, "Geralt?" You grabbed both his shoulders, briskly shaking them before you called his name again. After a moment, his eyes finally fully opened, a soft smile appearing on his features as he slowly began to gain his full consciousness.
"Petal..." He hummed, his eyes almost fluttering closed again before you shook him a second time.
"Can you do something for me? Geralt?" Your voice was almost hysterical as you spoke, "Can you do me one favor?"
Geralt continued to smile gingerly as he nodded his head.
"Okay, could you get up for me? Could you stand?"
His face immediately dropped into a pout as he shook his head, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping him as he did.
You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself. You didn't know as much as Geralt, but you knew enough to know that this was not good.
He was delirious.
You internally cursed yourself for not listening to him more in those quiet moments he would talk to Roach about the other monsters he had dealt with.
You had no idea what you were dealing with.
"Camp..." He finally mumbled, his voice was weak, not like his usually commanding tone.
"Yes, we have to get you-"
He almost knocked you over at the force at which he abruptly stood, his legs trembled as he took slow steps, and you shot up beside him, lifting his arm and placing it around your shoulders to balance him as much as you could.
"C'mon-" You strained as he leaned all of his weight on you for a moment, "Let's get you back"
The rest of the dawdling journey was spent in the company of ditzy hiccups and laughs, you would imagine what a handful he would be if he ever got drunk, but your mind was too preoccupied with the still-bleeding wound Geralt covered with his other hand on his side.
"Oh my Gods" Jaskier murmured the moment he saw you appear from beyond the brush, rushing to Geralt's other side to assist you.
"What happened?" He inquired, tone almost just as frantic as yours
"I don't know."
"Is he going to be alright?"
"I don't know." You hated how your voice shook as you spoke, if your voice was stronger, maybe you would have yelled at Jaskier for his insistent line of questioning, but your only focus was now on Geralt.
You both grunted as you layed him down on the thin cot in his tent, Jaskier turned to look through the bag that was placed in the corner, anxiously tossing bottles and small pouches to the side.
Geralt grumbled once again, turning again to his side to look at you. "Petal..." He groaned, and you found yourself nodding.
"I'm right here" You sighed, your eyes now brimming with tears. "We're going to take care of you, okay? Like you've always taken care of us. You're going to be okay, promise?"
His delusional smile faded for a moment, before he shook his head.
"No, no, don't do that, you are going to be okay... Jaskier!"
"I'm doing my best!" He scrambled, "It's usually Geralt doing this-"
Geralt's left hand suddenly fell from his side, fingers weakly pointing to a rounder, black bottle that had been tossed aside in Jaskier's initial panic.
Jaskier clumsily placed the bottle in his hand, your shoulders sagged in relief when Geralt swiftly removed the cork from the bottle, drinking its contents in a single swig. His breathing seemed to even in mere seconds as his eyes fluttered closed.
"Well," Jaskier sighed, "He's not dead."
You couldn't recall a time when you had seen him sleep for this long, in fact, you couldn't seem to recall a night where you had seen him sleep at all.
Even as you turned his body and adjusted his limbs so you could properly bandage and clean the deep slash on his side, his light snoring continued.
Jaskier had left the tent hours ago, adamantly saying how he needed to rest after such a stressful event, even though you could still here the soft strumming of a lute and quiet humming just outside the tent long after he had left the two of you.
The world was quiet once Jaskier had officially retired, Geralt's breathing and the muted crackling of a slowly dying fire being the only sounds that surrounded you as you worked.
Though Geralt was never the most talkative travel companion, it was still strange for him to be completely silent, not even a grunt or hushed 'hmm' to break the reticence.
"You worried us, you know? I know you hate that, people worrying over you, but you scared us" You whispered, trailing your fingers along the injury, now completely covered by beige cloths and hidden underneath his shirt. "You scared me, I thought I was going to have to kill a monster" You chuckled to yourself, "I wasn't sure how that was going to go, maybe you should show me... At some point... Maybe" Your voice was wistful as you spoke, wondering if he would ever take you up on that offer once he finally awoke, most likely not.
He had always made it a point to never put you in any real danger, even though sometimes you'd find yourself standing directly in front of jaws that would surely eat you alive in seconds, Geralt would always assure you that you were safe, that he would kill the beast before it ever got close enough to truly hurt you.
Every time you had asked him for any sort of training so you could defend yourself if anything went wrong, he'd only scoff at you "I don't need you hurting yourself, or worse." He would always say, "I'll handle it, Petal."
"Why do you call me that?" The words tumbled from you before you could even think about them, "I do have a name you know," You smiled "I've never understood why you call me that." Maybe you didn't mind it so much.
"Soft."
You froze, unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you in the silence, or if Geralt had actually spoke.
"It's because you're soft."
Yes, he was definitely speaking to you.
You chose to ignore him completely at fist, looking forward as if he wasn't laying directly below of you as you sat on the small log you had turned into a makeshift seat. He's just waking up from a dream, you thought, he's still recovering
You heard a deep chuckle before he spoke again, "You wanted to know, and now you're ignoring me."
"Geralt? You're awake?" You asked, finally facing him.
"Clearly."
"How are you feeling?" You stammered, your breaths becoming shallower as you wondered if he had heard all of what you had said.
"Nothing I can't handle."
"I'm glad" You sighed, "I'll leave you then." You added abruptly, your only thought being of leaving the situation as quickly as possible. Though just as you began to stand, a firm hand gripped your wrist.
"No, stay." He grumbled, his eyes blinking away the remainder of his fatigue. "Please."
You returned to your place and he slowly released you, his fingers softly lingering on your hand before it dropped to his side again. Geralt groaned as he attempted to sit up, almost wincing as he finally straightened himself.
"You should res-"
"I'm fine." He grumbled, "Thank you, for... This" Geralt gestured to his side as you nodded.
"No need to thank me," You did your best to hide the twinge of anxiety in your faintly trembling voice as you spoke, but you were certain you'd already been found out regardless. "It's the least I could do after all you've done-"
His rough hand had found yours again, the pad of his thumb tracing over your knuckles as he listened to you.
"For me..." You managed to continue, your eyes focusing on the abrupt, calming touches from the man in front of you.
You could almost swear there was the beginning of a soft smile on his lips as his eyes followed his fingers, lightly tracing the ridges of the top of your hand. "It's because you're soft, Petal" He finally stated, "I never meant anything by it."
"No it's nice-" You faltered, "I just never thought it was because you liked something about me" Your voice was thick with weariness and confession as you spoke. It wasn't that Geralt hadn't shown you any ounce of caring or friendliness during the time you had known him, it was only the fact that you never thought that a man so blunt and threatening would ever give you an epithet based off of something as gentle as the softness of your touch.
Your eyes finally flickered to his and you almost instantly wanted to return your gaze to your lap. His stare was too sharp, too intense, for you to even handle without having to look away for a moment.
You had to think that he was still feeling the effects of whatever venom or blood loss - induced haze that had gotten you into his tent in the first place.
He couldn't be looking at you like that.
Like he wanted to smother you alive.
Like he wanted to keep you all to himself in this small space forever.
Like he wanted to love you.
A contemplative 'hmm' was all you received in response at first, though still tracing over your hand, he continued "And why do you think that?" He questioned.
"You never wanted me to join you in the first place."
His movements stilled, you found yourself even shocked by your own words. You had never spoke to him so plainly about your feelings, perhaps it was something about being so close to him that made it so difficult to hide.
"That's true." He acknowledged, and you felt a dull, thrumming ache of discontent bloom in your chest at his admission.
"I was only ever bait for you to use to get you monsters" You added, feeling an unexpected rush of tears flood your eyelids.
There was a brief pause before he responded again, "That's true."
"And when I ask for you to train me, to show me something that could be more useful than just standing and waiting for something to kill me, you refuse." You felt helpless as you spoke, feeling like you were finally admitting things to yourself you had pushed to the very corner of your mind for so long. You felt disposable, and it hurt to watch as he mindlessly agreed to all of your concerns. "I want to be something more..."
You meant to say something else, something quick and biting so he understood that you weren't to be taken advantage of anymore, but you weren't sure that even if you opened your mouth a single sound would even escape. You felt your cheeks begin to dampen as your teeth pulled at your quivering bottom lip.
Through the heart beat thundering in your ears, you heard Geralt murmur your name, nevertheless, you refused to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the soil under your feet as you tried to stifle your own whimpers.
Your breath hitched in your lungs when two fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head upwards. You hadn't noticed how he had shifted, now kneeling in front of you, his face level with your own.
He stated your name again, this time with more certainty as he stared back at you, his brow lightly furrowed as his hand shifted to cup your face, his thumb whipping the tear that rolled down your cheek. "But so much has changed since I've begun to know you..." He whispered, "You are more to me."
You didn't have a moment to respond before his lips crashed into yours, his other hand creeping up to your neck as he pulled you closer. His kiss was bruising, though it still remained a gentle mess of passion and tears as he cradled you between his palms, holding you with a tenderness as if he held the entire planet within his hands. He groaned into you when your hands found purchase on the collar of his black tunic, your senses completely surrounded with nothing but him as he slanted his lips across yours.
"You are more to me than that" He spoke breathlessly, his lips still continuing to chase your own between words, "I care for you, and I know that I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you."
"Geralt-"
"Please, I can't lose you because of this. You mean too much to me." His breathing was shallow as he pulled away from you, hands still cupping your cheeks as he did.
You could only nod at first before finally gathering yourself enough to speak, "I care for you, Geralt..." Your smile was weak and tearful as you replied. "Too much to leave now."
"Stay?" He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as you nodded softly once again.
Geralt let out a pained moan as he adjusted himself on the cot, slowly lowering himself on the linen and shifting himself just enough to allow you room to lay beside him.
You smiled as you pressed against him, the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around your waist already beginning to push you into sleep.
Before the exhaustion of the day could finally pull you under, you felt the delicate press of Geralt's lips against your forehead, the quiet rumble of his voice finally lulling you to sleep.
"Soft."
oh my goodness gracious, my heart, i am actually kind of super excited about how this turned out surprisingly!! i do love some hurt/comfort, and i've been feeling slightly e h about myself, so i hope this does bring some comfort to anyone feeling that way!! or just some comfort to you all in general!! i hope you are all doing so well!! mwauh!!
Summary: you have some light-hearted flirty banter with Jaskier, only Geralt doesn’t think it looks so light-hearted… So Geralt makes it his mission to remind you that you’re his and his alone
Warnings: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex (m+f), Dom!Geralt, rough sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms / overstimulation, minors DNI
A/N: LEA YOU ANGEL THIS IS MY FIRST GERALT SMUT AND IVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE FOR HIM FOR SO LONG SO THANK YOU SM!!!😮💨😩 Also these prompts just exude Gerald energy, such good picks bestie!! Hope you like it✨🖤
This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.
You laugh at Jaskier’s latest witty comment, your drink nearly spilling. The two of you fall into each other as you attempt to control your laughter. You wipe a tear from your eye as you wheeze, finally calming down enough to breathe properly again.
You and Jaskier fall back into conversation again, laughing again every few minutes. Eventually the topic of Jaskier’s fancy new red leather tailcoat is brought up. Yennefer is quick to scoff at it, thinking it to be rather gaudy.
“Ah Yen, I think it looks nice!” You defend. “Don’t listen to her Jask, it looks good on you.”
“Why thank you y/n” he bows sarcastically before winking at you. You smile fondly at him.
The whole tavern suddenly quiets as a chair scrapes loudly. You all spin round to see Geralt standing up from his seat across the room. You can see a visible tension in his shoulders, his whole body and face the perfect definition of brooding. He strides towards you, looking at you pointedly, before walking straight past you and up the tavern stairs.
Shit. You were in trouble now. You knew Geralt well enough to read the silent command in his eyes. The command that read follow me. Now.
The general noise of the tavern returns and you’re able to quietly excuse yourself from the company of Yennefer and Jaskier. You follow where Geralt had gone up the stairs. You knew you’d find him in the room the two of you had rented for the few nights you were staying in this location.
Sure enough you meekly open the door to the room to discover Geralt stood in the centre of the room waiting for you. You close the door quietly behind you before stepping towards Geralt. You could practically feel the fury radiating from him. You stop a few paces in front of him when he shoots you a glare.
Geralt was a man of few words. Most of his communication you observed through his body language, and, having been together for years now, you knew how to read him quite well. You knew right now he was seething from how close you and Jaskier were. He was jealous, to summarise the point briefly. You also knew that trying to reassure him would do no good. He needed to work this through in his own way.
He moves to close the gap between you. He grabs the back of your neck roughly, pulling at your hair, forcing your head up to look at him, a small whimper leaving you. He leers down at you, a snarl on his lips.
Then those snarling lips are upon you. He kisses you roughly, your teeth clashing. You moan into the kiss as he shoves his tongue harshly into your mouth. The kiss is messy, frantic, his mouth completely dominating yours, his teeth biting at your lips as he continues to hold you in place by the back of your neck. You’re about to wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer when he suddenly pulls his mouth of you, holding you away from him by your neck.
“Strip. Then on the bed. Now” is all he says. The growl in his voice lets you know there’s no room for arguing. He releases your neck and watches as you walk over to the bed. You stop to wiggle out of your dress, letting it pool to the floor around you, leaving you completely naked under the intense stare of Geralt. You hear a small satisfied “hmm” from him at the sight of your naked body.
“Lie down. Legs open” is his next firm instruction. You feel yourself get wet at his words. Oh you were in for trouble. And you could not wait.
You obey his instruction, climbing onto the bed and laying on your back, relishing the feeling of the furs on your naked skin. You sit up on your elbows as you open your legs for Gerald, baring your dripping cunt to him. You see hunger take over his yellow eyes as he walks towards the edge of the bed. He slots himself between your legs before running one hand down your leg. He doesn’t take his time with you. He wanted to claim you as his and he wanted to do it quickly.
His hand reaches your core and he immediately inserts one of his thick fingers inside you, your own slick allowing him to sink his finger in easily. Just as you moan at the sensation of that first contact he already inserts another, stretching you open with his thick digits. He fucks you hard and fast with his fingers, curling them forwards with each thrust, ensuring to hit your sweet spot. He then adds his thumb to the mix, placing it on your clit and circling in sync with his pumping.
“You think that idiot Jaskier can make you squirm like this?” He suddenly growls, applying extra pressure with his thumb in your clit. The pressure makes you writhe on the bed, your back arching, your pussy bucking up into Geralt’s hand, a pathetic mewl the only response you can fathom. You hear another satisfied ‘hmm’ from Garalt seeing you unable to even fathom a response.
You feel the burn to begin inside your stomach, its heat matching that of the fire burning in the room. You can feel a fine layer of sweat break across your body as buck under Geralt’s hand. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm break over you. Your legs are trembling as you convulse around Geralt’s fingers, you thighs clenching together, keeping Geralt’s hand locked in place as you ride out your high.
After barely giving you a second to catch you breath Gerald pulls his hand from you. He then uses both hands to pin your legs open, spreading you before him. You sit up on your elbow again to look at him just in time to see him sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your stomach knots in anticipation of what’s coming next. He hovers his mouth just above your waiting core, eyes locked with yours again.
“I want you to watch me. I want you to see that I’m the only one who gets to eat this cunt” he commands deeply. You whimper at this words and nod your head weakly. A tiny smirk tugs at his mouth before he finally dives into your dripping pussy. He licks a stripe up your folds before his tongue finds home on your clit. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he begins to lap and flick at your bundle of nerves. You whimper as he switches tactics to sucking your clit into his mouth before releasing it and lapping at you again. Your hips begin to rock into his mouth of their own accord. A deep groan grumbles through Geralt and you almost cry at the feeling of the vibrations coursing through you. You can feel his rough stubble scratching at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It takes everything in you to keep from tossing your head back in pleasure. You writhe and squirm beneath his mouth as you struggle to keep your eyes open, watching him.
The sight of him between your legs is almost otherworldly. His golden eyes trained on yours, alight with a fiery a lust that’s matched by the actual fire reflecting from across the room. His skin grimy as always, alight with the glow of the fire and the sheen of sweat. His silver hair coming loose from his half ponytail, tickling the skin of your thighs and belly. His rough, calloused hands are keeping your legs pinned open as he devours you.
“Ahh... fuck, Geralt” you whimper. He hums in satisfaction at hearing his name in your mouth. The vibrations from his hum finally cause you tip over the edge, your second climax coursing through you. You can feel Geralt smirk against your core as he watches your face as you fall apart, your eyes still on him. You then finally let your head fall back, your body collapse back onto the bed as you pant heavily. You close your eyes and revel in the bliss, The softness of the furs beneath you, the sound of the crackling fire, your body in a total state of euphoria. You think you can hear the sounds of fabric rustling but you’re too blissed out too care.
But Geralt wasn’t done with you yet.
You cry in surprise when you feel him grab you hips harshly. He flips you over and practically throws you back onto the bed. You even have a second to register your new position before you feel Geralt climb over the top of you, his incredible body dwarfing yours. You can feel he's naked on top of you, his bare chest against your back, the outline of his hardened cock rubbing against your ass. Your small whimper is covered by Geralt’s loud grunt as he shoves his cock inside you. He doesn’t go slow, thrusting into you all the way in one swift motion. You can feel a small burn, his thick cock stretching you out, a pleasure with a touch of pain.
Geralt’s grunts are loud in your ear as he fucks himself into you roughly, his one hand holding your hip in a bruising grip. He pins you down to the bed with his body. You can the feel contrast of his warm flesh against the cold of his medallion as it’s lost between your bodies, the cold metal digging into your back. The entire bed is shaking with the force of him driving into you. You can already feel you’ll be sore tomorrow. A deliberate reminder of who really owns your pussy.
Geralt gets to work biting at your neck, sucking deep bruises into your skin. He was leaving his mark on you, making sure that the world could see exactly who you belonged to.
“Say my name” he suddenly demands with a growl. You whimper again, barely coherent with how drunk you were on his dick.
“Say my name” he snarls again, placing a sharp slap to the side of your ass. You gasp at the sting, a tear springing in your eye.
“Ah fuck... Geralt” you cry. “Shit Geralt you feel so fucking good” mewl. He grunts in approval at hearing his name on your lips again.
“Don’t forget who you belong to” he says each word in time his thrusts. You cry out beneath him as he ploughs into you painfully hard.
“You’re mine” he seethes.
“Yes Geralt. Yours. Only yours” you whimper as your body starts to convulse, that fire exploding in the pit of your stomach as you cum again. Your walls clench around Geralt repeatedly as you shake beneath him.
“Fuck” he grunts in your ear as his brutal pace finally falters. Your clenching walls milk his cock inside you, filling you up with his release. He ruts into a few more times, making sure to draw out both of your climaxes. He then rolls off you and collapses on his back beside you.
You stay where you are for a few minutes, trying to gain some control over your breathing. Eventually you manage to drag yourself the few inches until you’re resting on his broad chest, your ear just above his heart, listening to the steady rhythm of it beating. His one arm rests behind his head but he brings the other arm around your back, pushing you closer against him. You hook your leg over his thigh, slotting your body against his side. His hand rests on your ass, his palm curving to perfectly cup one of your cheeks.
You’re both sticky with sweat and grime. The new angle of your leg lets you feel as Geralt's cum leaks out of you, dripping onto your thigh and his. But neither of you care. You both stay where you are, content to revel in this hot mess, as long as you were touching, as long as you could feel the warmth and safety of the other.
After a while you turn your head to look up at him, his eyes are closed but you know he’s not asleep yet.
“That was fun” you whisper, smirking up him. “Maybe I should flirt with Jaskier more often” you tease.
An angry “hmm” is all Geralt responds but you can feel his body tense with anger underneath you.
“I’m jesting, Geralt” you say softly, rolling your eyes. “I’m yours and yours only” you say kissing one of the many scars on his chest.
“Mine” he confirms with a light slap on your ass..
Masterlist
A/N: okay so I was only supposed to be doing smaller drabbles for this sleepover but my first Geralt smut?? I just had to turn it into a full oneshot! 😮💨 Would you guys want more Gerald stuff in the future? Let me know!🖤✨
"Geralt."
"Hmm?"
"Where are we riding to, exactly?"
"We're going to visit an old friend."
With that, our conversation came to an end.
For two days already we had been roaming the lands, and if I hadn't been by Geralt's side, I was sure we would have gotten lost long ago. But his presence gave me security, as did Roach, his loyal bay mare, whom nothing could upset. Even if she hesitated once, Geralt's grumble calmed her down.
We were approaching the sea. I could hear the sound of the sea getting closer, could feel the salty air on my lips and the stormy wind dancing in my hair and on my face. We left a small forest and arrived at a meadow. Only a few steps later did I realize that we were on a vast cliff. To our right, meadow and forest stretched, unperturbed and endless. But ahead of us, the meadow gradually narrowed. The wind continued to whip in my face and by now we were shrouded in a thick fog. The wind continued to whip, and we were surrounded by a dense fog. Nevertheless, I recognized a small building in the distance. I squinted my eyes and thought I saw light burning in the windows. The closer we got to the house, the more fiercely the wind raged, and Roach also became increasingly restless. " Calm down," Geralt murmured, but this time the mare was not so easily soothed.
By now we were in the immediate vicinity of the house. It was a small cottage with many flowers and surrounded by a small stone wall. Finally I understood why Roach had been so nervous. In front of the house and behind the stone wall were several horses. They were staring at us as confused as I was at them. My gaze slid past the horses, and I spotted a young woman standing on the edge of the cliff behind her house. Her (y/h/c) were swirling in the wind, and her hands were moving through the air. We watched her for a while, and finally she lowered her hands, and the storm abruptly stopped. She turned around, and her lips formed a wide smile.
Summary: Being called back to your aunt's castle after years of travelling with Geralt, the sudden threat of political marriage looms large. Is pretending to be dating Geralt enough to save her from unwanted suitors?
F!Reader (no other description). Inspired a lot by Pavetta's engagement feast in series 1.
7.6k words.
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“Why am I here?”
Geralt’s gruff complaint permeated the noise and fuss outside the castle, a grumble beneath excited chatter and the faint music playing inside. He had made some concessions on his armour, a fine cloak covering his usual leather, and you couldn’t help smiling at the uncomfortable way he played with it.
You shushed him as a couple in finery strode past, offering you a matching pair of tight smiles. You greeted them with an equally tight grin, and the Witcher watched the whole exchange with a polite bafflement. Your smile dropped the second they were gone.
“To look out for me,” you ground out, “and scare away these idiots.”
The idiots were suitors, already offering waves and smiles as they piled into the castle. It belonged to your uncle, as did the kingdom you stood in, and the ball was a blatant ploy for the King to marry you off. It seemed that, as the runaway second-in-line for the throne, you were still worth pursuing to the knights and princes who peacocked around.
Geralt seemed amused.
“A bodyguard?”
“Not… exactly.”
He hummed, wanting elaboration, and you grimaced at yet another arriving set of nobles. You couldn’t look at him as you spoke, fixing your gaze on the distant stables. Wondering if Roach was being spoiled rotten. Bracing for Geralt to burst out laughing.
“My aunt seems to think we’re… together. And I really don’t want to marry any of these fools. A Witcher on my arm might scare them away.”
You hoped he wouldn’t be offended at the assertion. Quite the opposite, he seemed to stand a little taller, a little closer to your side.
“That one is rather handsome,” Geralt half-teased, nodding to an arriving knight.
His blonde hair reminded you of summer, where Geralt’s was cold, like snow, but he did bear a slight resemblance to the Witcher. He hadn’t even looked around, too busy following the growing noise in the banquet hall.
“Of course you would think that,” you grumbled, being petulant just to see the laugh-lines form around Geralt’s eyes.
“Might be nice to settle down eventually.”
It was unexpected, from a man like Geralt. You looked to him in surprise, only to see the vulnerability on his own face. Had he ever considered such a life for himself?
“I would be trapped here from the moment I said yes to a proposal. I would never be allowed travel with you again.”
He raised his eyebrows half-mockingly, tilting his head towards you, but betraying no other emotion.
“Then I will do my best to look terrifying,” he paused for a second, fingers finding his sword.
It was on his belt, and you knew he found the outfit change disconcerting.
“Does your aunt really think we’re in love? She hasn’t seen us in years.”
“She thinks that we’re together, yes.”
You chose your words carefully; you had no desire to make the Witcher needlessly uncomfortable. If he could offer you his arm for the night and maybe a smile, it would be enough. His face was unreadable as he wordlessly reached your hand, and you were astounded by the gesture.
“You really don’t have to –”
“If it keeps you from being trapped in this shithole with some knight, I’m sure you can put up with holding my hand for a night,” he muttered.
Tightening your fingers around his, feeling his cool, calloused skin against your own palms, you nodded.
“Thank you.”
He ignored you, his gaze far away as he observed the nobles milling around, but you knew he had heard. Without any further comment he followed the last of the guests into the banquet hall, tucking your connected hands close to his body. You followed his long strides into the building, enjoying the looks of awe from intimidated partygoers. Pretending you didn’t enjoy it.
*
As you found your seat at the banquet beside the King and Queen, they appraised Geralt with smooth politeness. A space by your side at the head table was created with little fanfare, your aunt watching curiously as the Witcher folded himself into a seat alongside her. It was rare that he seemed so ill at ease, he usually had such control over his body, his environment. You hid a private smile as he looked to you for reassurance that he was doing the right thing. You found his hand and squeezed it again, muttering to him about guests as they filed in.
It seemed to calm him, not that he cared for idle gossip or local affairs in the slightest, and you could see the inquisitive looks piling up as the room filled.
Soon you realised your mistake in seating Geralt beside your aunt. She was fascinated by him, involving your uncle in her questioning, growing more intense with every course served. The mere suggestion of introducing you to suitors was briefly out of the window, but you weren’t sure you liked the alternative any more
“Where did you meet?” she pried.
You had barely spoken to anyone all night, your conversation partners all far more interested in the infamous White Wolf. Geralt responded to her interrogation, toeing the line between curt and polite expertly.
“How long have you been together?”
Twisted versions of the trust kept her entertained, satisfied with Geralt’s answers which were as a smooth and pleasant as the finest wordsmiths you had ever heard.
Finally, with the King’s interest engaged, she broached the question:
“You are a Witcher, are you not?”
“Yes.”
You could see the stiffening of his posture, the tensing of his muscles, as the King’s gaze grew more intense. It felt like the whole room was watching.
“Witcher’s can’t feel, can they? They beat it out of you.”
Maybe it was the contact you’d had with him all night, maybe it was the shift of his fingers towards his sword, but you felt yourself grow tense. You knew he wouldn’t draw his sword from anger, from offense. It was a comfort. Control.
As the Queen shifted away from him subtly, your hand found his where it rested on his thigh beneath the table. Your other hand wrapped around your goblet of wine, trying to hide your nervousness.
“I think that’s quite a pervasive rumour, but certainly not true” you interject, trying to lean across Geralt to defend him.
Your aunt and uncle don’t register your words, gazes instead focused on Geralt’s tense posture. There’s a quietness across the rest of the banquet hall as guests fix their gaze on the Witcher. You trust Geralt not to do anything stupid, know he won’t endanger or embarrass you, but nonetheless you feel your heart sink. Guilt sits heavy in your stomach, and you want to apologise to Geralt right there, wishing you hadn’t forced this on him.
“I have never met a Witcher before, but I have heard tales. You don’t have emotions, do you boy?”
The King was certainly younger than Geralt, although he did not look it. His arrogance certainly presumed a superiority, his words patronising as he brushed you off. You felt Geralt bristle again at the demeaning name, at the insinuation he couldn’t feel. You didn’t know if he felt anything for you, beyond friendship and protectiveness, but you certainly knew he felt.
Nonetheless, you knew Geralt wouldn’t appreciate being spoken for again.
“If I am lacking emotions, I am not aware of it.”
Your heart sank.
“How would you know, I suppose!” The Queen exclaimed, trying to diffuse the tension.
The room shifted, those watching from tables reassured, returning to conversations with glances at Geralt and the King. As their eyes turned away, you felt Geralt’s tenseness remain – he knew the conversation was not over.
“Interesting creatures, Witchers. I have wondered… Do you only slay beasts? Or for anyone who will offer you coin?”
“Only monsters, regrettably.”
He ground the words out, but his gaze was elsewhere, watching some shuffle of the guards at the entrance to the dining hall. The Queen was watching too, seemingly unbothered by Geralt’s discomfort.
“I see. If you ever wanted proper employment –”
Geralt squeezed your hand in warning before you heard the drag of his chair across the flagstones, the Witcher standing to his full height before offering a nodded apology to the royals.
“A kind offer. I need to check on my horse.”
That was bullshit, and you knew it. Roach would be having the time of her life at the stables, fed Alfalfa and fresh vegetables by attentive stable hands. You watched him leave with a gnawing sense of regret, loathing that you had brought him into such a situation. That your station didn’t allow you to speak up for him.
“He’s awfully uptight, isn’t he?” the Queen mused, making the King chuckle.
“Surprised you convinced him to come indoors at all!”
“It sounds like he prefers the stables!”
You grimaced, taking another bite of your meal to avoid answering. You had to admit, the banquet was delicious, though you found your appetite leaving you. Geralt’s plate was still untouched, and you made a note to buy him a proper meal at the next place you stopped. You could pilfer something from the palace – it would be worth it.
“What do you think of the suitors?”
Your aunt leant over Geralt’s empty seat conspiratorially, and you winced at the closeness. She had been no friend to you growing up, offered your family no help, and now she would marry you off for her own power.
“They seem perfectly lovely.”
“Handsome, I reckon,” she raised her eyebrows, and you school your face to play along with her.
“Perhaps.”
You scanned the room, indulging her whims for a moment. Wondering how your life might change if you took this opportunity.
The blonde man who had caught your eye earlier was watching the exchange, his hair tucked behind his ears and a goblet to his lips. He met your gaze, eyes green where Geralt’s were golden. The longer you looked, the less superficial likeness he seemed to bear to the Witcher, but you couldn’t deny that he was handsome. There was a cheekiness to him, a raised eyebrow and a quirk of his lip, and you smiled back.
“I like him,” the King bellowed, and you saw the man hide a chuckle at the loudness, “good stock.”
You tried to hide your embarrassment in another swig of your drink, sure the whole room heard the King breaking your private staring exchange with the handsome stranger.
“He’s a knight, though he is landed. Very well regarded. You would do well with him,” the Queen whispered to you urgently.
It was still one of the dining courses, dancing and mingling were perhaps an hour away, but you wondered what would happen if you pursued this. You wanted to know.
“Then I believe I ought to excuse myself for a moment,” you stood gently, much to the Queen’s delight.
A pointed glance to the Knight got your point across, and the Queen followed your exit with excitable encouragement. It was all so crass, so blatant, but you let yourself bask in the excitement of the moment.
You had wondered if you might bump into Geralt as you stood in the corridor outside the banquet hall, waiting for your suitor to join you. He would still be occupied with Roach, you supposed, telling her about all the annoyances you had forced him through, complaining about these humans. You could do with a horse therapy session too, frankly, you were beginning to understand his frustration with human customs.
Finally the knight rounded the corridor to find you, flushed from his rush and no doubt from the teasing he had gotten from his fellow diners after the exchange.
He was tall, a little less broad than Geralt but still an imposing figure, even in his finery. He smiled wide and openly, his face bronzed by the sun. The lines around his eyes were handsome as he greeted you, kissing you once on each cheek, crowding you into the alcove you had chosen. Perhaps it was his exuberance, but this suddenly felt like youth, stolen moments and giddiness and the spark of a new connection.
“Hello,” he greeted breathlessly, and you couldn’t help laughing at the sheer strangeness of this all.
“Hi!”
“I hope I was the one you were smiling at, my companion was rather convinced it was him,” he teased.
“I confess I am a little disappointed, but you will do,” you played along, “I hope it was my attention you wanted, and not my aunt’s.”
“It can be hard to tell from across a room,” he chuckled, “but yes – I have no desire to cross the King. Especially not when such a beautiful stranger returns to us.”
You raised your eyebrow, a little doubtful of how he might know you.
“We had classes together, when we were younger?”
You offered an apologetic grimace, trying to wrack your memory, but you truly could not remember him. You had met a lot of training young knights on your occasional visits of the palace, they had rather blended together.
“You don’t remember,” he accepted, looking a little deflated, and you wanted to apologise immediately.
“I am rather sure we couldn’t have met, I would have remembered someone as handsome as you.”
Then he was grinning again, contagious, making you smile back.
“Smooth answer, my lady.”
Laughter echoed down the halls as your conversation dragged on, he was charming. Someone you would sorely like to spend more time with, perhaps getting a drink or sharing a meal. But the longer you spoke, the longer you realised what your life together might look like, you felt your resolve strengthen.
He spoke of the farm work he did in the height of the harvest, of small family disputes and land boundaries he fought for, of how he would long to return to someone as beautiful as you at the end of a long day, as you cared for his home.
You felt your jaw beginning to tense, fewer words escaping you. He was a charmer, he could wax poetic as Jaskier could, but you doubted it was any more than pretty words. The reality of it all seemed... Boring. If you wanted that life, he seemed a fabulous option, but you didn’t. You had a life you loved already.
“I confess, I didn’t bring a ring, but I have longed to see you again since we first met all those years ago… if you would let me have your hand.”
Increasingly you were beginning to see why Geralt was so succinct in the way he spoke. Your brain was aching to concentrate as he continued to stumble over himself. He still had you pressed into the alcove, although the situation was now rather less exciting, as his business pitch continued.
“I own five acres, though I believe I will shortly inherit more, and I am aware you are not soon in line for the throne however my family name will be elevated by the connection, our children could share in both country life and the excitement of court –”
His words felt like ice water, making your nerves stand on end and your heartbeat faster in panic, the clear image he painted startled you. He was still speaking, but you were spooked. Was that all he could offer? Monotony interrupted by the formalities of court once a year? At the cost of your freedom? Your ability to travel, and be terrified by whatever Geralt was slaying, and warmed by the fire, and be awestruck by a new horizon every single day? He was offering you visits to court?
You placed a hand on his chest, gently cutting him off.
“Perhaps we ought to return to the banquet, I hear the next course is duck confit –”
He wasn’t listening, too busy covering your hand on his chest with his own, the pleasant warmness of his skin beginning to feel clammy as you realised you wouldn’t be leaving until he had finished his speech.
“I just hope you will truly give my offer the consideration it deserves, I am prepared to do whatever it takes –”
The footsteps passing your alcove had previously been light, scurrying, servants and guests awkwardly rushing past to avoid interrupting your moment. The approach of slow, heavy steps caught your ears as the man blathered on. Then, they stopped. The stones were getting painful behind your back, and you winced as the knight unintentionally pushed you further back as he turned to look.
You didn’t need to see the shock of combed white hair to know who it was, the footsteps had been enough. Geralt was never loud, unless he wanted to be intimidating. Frankly it was working. Seeing his practiced frown over the knight’s shoulder made you feel decidedly caught, and you had to bite back the urge to hurriedly explain yourself.
The Witcher’s frown deepened as you yanked your hand free of its spot pinned to the Knight’s chest, leaving you waiting a few more seconds before he finally spoke.
“Everything okay here?”
The Knight opened his mouth to speak, and you took the distraction to slip free from him, standing away from both him and the Witcher, heart pounding in your chest.
“Everything’s fine,” the blonde man continued, stepping towards you. You stood firm.
“We were just discussing the engagement, I believe suitors will be lining up already for your hand, dear lady.”
Both you and Geralt stared him down, and you felt your confidence return as Geralt did.
“Naturally,” the Witcher grumbled.
You couldn’t shake the feeling he was making fun of you.
“I, um, I should get back. It will be starting soon,” the Knight straightened his clothes as if something rather more salacious had happened, straightening his posture as he passed Geralt in the corridor.
As he passed you he reached for your hand, holding it between the two of you for a second before kissing your knuckles.
“Follow your heart as well as your mind,” he whispered to you, as though he was imparting some great wisdom. With one final nod, he left.
You watched him leave, not quite sure what to do.
Geralt was shifting his weight from foot to foot, deflated a little now the Knight had gone.
“How was Roach?” you murmured, unable to face him.
Embarrassment was beginning to well up inside you, although you couldn’t quite place what its source was, it was tightening your throat, making your cheeks feel warm.
“She’s good. Spoilt.”
“Did you catch her up on all the stupid shit my aunt was asking you?”
He snorted a laugh.
“Naturally.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. You gave me fair warning. It’s always like that.”
You sighed, keeping your head low as you turned to face him.
“It shouldn’t be, though. I am sorry.”
You could see him nod out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t look up for fear you might just cry.
“It didn’t feel real, until he started actually… talking about it.”
“Hm?”
“Them marrying me off.”
You felt arms wrap around you, gentle enough to let you pull away if you wanted. Instead you manoeuvred yourself to hug him back, letting him pull you tightly to himself, hiding your tears as the Witcher hugged you. You knew he could hear the sorrow in your breathing, probably smell the saltiness of them in the air, but you couldn’t bear to meet his eye.
“We should go back in,” you hiccupped.
You had been gone for long enough, the Knight had no doubt conspicuously returned, perhaps bartering around the table to buy a ring off someone’s hand. Not a word you had said could shake his confidence.
“They can wait. You’re royalty, after all.”
You half-heartedly tapped his bicep, and imitation slap, making him laugh as you kept your face burrowed against his shoulder in misery.
“Hardly. They’re definitely more impressed to see you, Witcher.”
“I’m not sure ‘impressed’ is the word I would use,” the grumbled.
“I’ve heard that Witchers can see in the dark and breathe underwater!” you imitated your aunt, hoping to draw a laugh from Geralt.
He gave a hm, and you finally pulled back from him, staring at his face in shock.
“You can?”
He grinned, and you rolled your eyes, hiding your teary face against him once more. A hand patted your back in mock sympathy before resting there, more of a comfort than you cared to admit.
“You’re such a prick,” you grumbled.
“I do have a potion for seeing in the dark.”
“I don’t believe anything you say anymore.”
“You never listen to anything I say anyway,” Geralt teased.
“That’s not true.”
You felt him nod his concession, enjoying the hug for a few moments more. It was rare, this closeness with the Witcher. You relished in it.
“Do you think Roach needs checking on again?” you muttered once you’d collected yourself.
Disentangling your arms from his, you tried to regain some composure, wiping your eyes. You had to ignore Geralt’s look of concern, focussing on it would only bring you to tears once more. He offered you his elbow and you took it, wordlessly walking away from the banquet hall.
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
“She’ll be miserable when you make her sleep outside tomorrow,” you teased, feeling a pang of sadness at the realisation you might not be there with them.
We could run, you wanted to urge, get out of here. Duty froze you to the spot, years of conditioning to bend to your aunt and uncle’s whims. You knew you wouldn’t make it far. Worse, Geralt might end up being blamed. You couldn’t do that to him.
“Do you really want to marry him?”
The words tumbled from Geralt in an unfamiliar rush. He never spoke so thoughtlessly, and you tried to watch him as the two of you walked to a window, but the flickering candlelight dimmed his face.
The moon wasn’t out tonight. These were the worst nights, when there wasn’t even a sliver of brightness to illuminate the continent as you and Geralt crossed it. You liked to look for the moon on your travels, remind yourself it was still there – that you hadn’t wandered to anywhere so far that you couldn’t see the moon.
It felt like an omen.
“I never said I wanted to marry anyone, Geralt.”
“He seemed nice,” Geralt pushed, staring out into the grounds. You didn’t doubt he could see more than you, gaze unwavering as he focused on the treeline.
“I think he was just a sweet talker. He wanted me to raise his children on a farm.”
Geralt’s grunt turned to a bark of laughter, and you didn’t have it in you to feel offended by it. Truthfully, you couldn’t imagine settling anywhere. Unless Geralt wanted to.
“I’m sure you could… learn to farm,” he tried, breath curling into fog near the cool window.
You fixed him with a hard glare, and he sent you a look of mock fear, holding a hand to his chest as you did when you were shocked.
“You’re such a fucker,” you grumbled, “I’ll miss you.”
He stood silently, seemingly brushing your comment aside.
“Do you really think you’ll leave?”
Tears, again. Fuck.
“Do you think I have a choice?”
“What are they going to do? Hunt you down?”
“Maybe! I don’t know!”
Finally, Geralt seemed genuinely startled, holding perfectly still as his “danger!” instincts kicked in.
The rushed footsteps behind you made both of you whip your heads towards the intruder, a panicked looking guard with red cheeks and clattering armour.
“I’m sorry, the Queen said –”
“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off, already knowing you had pushed your luck with your long absence.
You checked your reflection in the glass of the window before following the rushing guard back to the dining hall, surprised when he stopped you and Geralt.
“She did say… just you. Not the Witcher. My lady.”
The guard stumbled over his words, and you pitied him as he looked at Geralt, clearly terrified.
The Witcher huffed, then followed anyway, ignoring the nervous glances from the guard. He seemed to have no more protest.
As you approached the doors, you glanced at Geralt, wondering if he might take the opportunity to leave and spend the rest of the evening with the more favourable company of Roach. Instead, he stepped beside you.
“You know they won’t get to you,” he murmured to you.
You had no time to respond as he pulled your arm into his, entering the banquet hall from the main entrance as heads turned. Refusing to turn your head, you let Geralt guide you back to the seats you had abandoned earlier in the evening. The dessert course had been served, although it seemed all plates were left untouched as the room hissed with speculation.
As you approached your seat you almost stumbled, surprised as the Witcher pulled out your seat for you. It was an awkward dance as he took his own seat, forcing your hand above the table so he could hold it between your plates.
Smoothing your face and trying to smile through the act was all you could do to keep up appearances.
“Kind of you to finally join us,” the Queen mused, looking Geralt up and down pointedly.
“Apologies. We were distracted,” the Witcher responded, and you fought to keep your jaw from dropping in surprise.
“You kept us waiting,” she prodded, and you pointedly distracted yourself with the plate of fruit in front of you.
Instinctively you attempted to pull your hand free to use it, but Geralt silently held firm.
“I won’t apologise for taking my time.”
To your amazement, she offered him an approving smirk.
“You won’t get that in a marriage bed,” she stage whispered.
You ignored her, and the knot in your stomach.
As dinner wrapped up, you continued to listen to Geralt fight through questions about your fictionalised relationship – you could feel the stress of it through your connected hands. Your aunt would glance at your hands occasionally, with the entertained air of someone judging teenage romance. Finally she addressed you directly, and you cursed yourself for not listening.
“Remind me how long you two have been together?”
You smiled sweetly, glancing at Geralt as if his face might give it away.
“Two years!”
“Oh! I thought you said six months?” she turned to Geralt with barely suppressed glee.
Dread sunk like a stone in your stomach, and you clung to the Witcher like you might be whisked away from him at any second. It had been nice. The evening. The tales he had spun of your courtship. The hugs and the heart to hearts, the fire which flashed across Geralt’s eyes as he saw you with the knight. You would never see that again. The faint image of a farm seemed to shimmer in the sconces around the room.
Now disappointment painted his face, his polite smile plummeting down into a frown, and the ache in your chest truly felt as though you had disappointed him as a lover.
“Has it only been six months? Sorry! I guess when it’s right… it just feels like we’ve always been together.”
You turned to Geralt, apologetic, and he made a poor show of laughing it off. You hoped he could read you, see the fear and the apology and the oh god, I don’t know how to do this.
You felt sick at the Queen’s raised eyebrows, the surprised delight on her face. There was no reason other than pride to keep pretending. You pulled yourself closer to Geralt, the handle of his sword pressing between your hips.
Her gaze fell on your connected hands, and you hung your head. You could feel the frustration from Geralt, and you wanted to apologise to him
“As I suspected. This is going to need to go,” she told you pointedly, words venomous.
After a moment of pause, you went to let go of Geralt’s hand. He pulled your connected hands beneath the table, otherwise stoic as he made his small resistance.
The King was watching with curiosity, one elbow perched on the table, head resting on his hand.
Despite Geralt’s hand squeezing yours, you couldn’t escape the sensation that this was it. It was over. The Queen stood, passed Geralt to speak only to you, bending down to meet you as you sat.
“Whatever this is, was, you know your duty to us.”
You were frozen to the spot, tongue heavy in your mouth with regret. For letting Geralt down. For accepting this summons at all.
For what might have happened if you and the Witcher had spoken sooner.
It felt like you blinked, and it was happening. Suitors standing to pitch to you. You couldn’t hear anything they said, as they rotated through in front of you, the rowdy room quietened as each suitor spoke.
As the blonde Knight stood, you felt Geralt sitting up straighter beside you, your aunt’s gaze shifting to your slouched form pointedly.
Ready to hear his spiel again, you barely noticed the gasp of the room as he stood before the stable, cleared his throat, and dropped to one knee.
“I believe we have something special, my lady. And so I take this opportunity, in front of everyone gathered here today, to boldly ask for your hand.”
He looked hopeful, handsome features smiling as he stared up towards the table, eyes shifting between the four of you. A ring glinted in his outstretched hand.
You wished you had the control not to, to sit there stony-faced, but for a split second your gaze slipped to Geralt. He looked as alarmed as you, no great expression on his face but a wideness to his eyes and a clench in his jaw which made your heart sink.
If Geralt was afraid, this was really happening.
The knight on the floor in front of you looked up hopefully, his eyeline slipping between you and the King and Queen, occasionally stuttering as he passed Geralt. You knew you had to do something, the room was watching, the Knight’s confidence waning with every silent second.
Your aunt said your name with a quiet forcefulness, and your knees felt weak beneath you as you rose.
This was it. Whoever this was.
You wondered if you could say no, if you should say no. What would the consequences be?
Absence from the castle had left you with minimal understanding of who these people were, which alliances were unimportant, which were volatile – who this man represented.
Fuck.
As you stood you frowned, feeling Geralt’s hand on your fingers, tugging one of your rings free as subtly as he could.
You couldn’t even register it, too busy trying to figure out what you were supposed to do.
“Do you want to marry any of these idiots?” he murmured, his touch lingering.
“No!” you hissed back, wincing as the pleased expression fell from the Knight’s face.
The delay was making everyone nervous, every shuffle of your feet echoing around the astounded room.
“I, um – kind Knight I –” you began. Fuck, you didn’t even know his name. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think I can accept your hand until… Until I have given the rest of these kind suitors a chance.”
“I believe I am the last one, my Lady.”
Your knees were weak. Your heart was pounding, mouth tasting of copper. Again your eyes slipped to Geralt, seeing the top of his combed, clean hair as he sat beside you. He was toying with your ring, passing it between his fingers.
The Queen gestured to have her chair moved, standing with a false smile plastered on and her goblet raised in celebration.
“In that case, Sir, my niece would be delighted to accept your offer.”
A smattered applause filled the room. You swayed on your feet, eyes unfocused with the panic rising in your throat. The Queen’s smugness, the awkward applause, the knight approaching, it was too much. You wanted to run, but your feet couldn’t move from the flagstones, your chair boxing you in against the table.
The blonde knight smilingly approached the table, ring outstretched, and you flinched away. Your instincts were failing you.
Fuck.
“Geralt…”
Your voice sounded broken to your own ears as you asked for him, and he finally looked up, his yellow eyes softer than you had ever seen them. He stared at you for a moment, reading you, before the shriek of his chair across the stone floor caught the attention of the room.
The Queen looked murderous.
Geralt dropped to one knee, your ring in one hand, his other hand finding yours. You couldn’t even see the knight, the shock of the room. All you could focus on was the Witcher.
“Marry me, instead?”
“Yes!”
You let him shove the ring onto your finger, hugged him as he stood, in a complete daze as the Queen approached you.
“You have already accepted another offer, girl.”
You held up the hand Geralt had just shoved a ring on, unable to find words. You didn’t see the hand coming, the nails she dug into your wrist, cutting you very intentionally as she pulled you away from Geralt.
“Ow!”
“Obviously he is not an option. I didn’t think I had to specify human!”
Her grip grew tighter, a second hand now gripping your jaw, the shock making you dazed and slow as she drew your face close to hers. A hundred prying eyes were watching as she manhandled you, but no one moved.
“You’re hurting me –”
“Take it off.”
Whatever sense was always attuned to Geralt told you he was behind you, and you reached back instinctively, knowing he couldn’t strike the Queen but desperately wanting his help.
“No,” you hissed, wriggling against her grip as much as you could without risking the guards approaching.
“Then leave.”
Geralt answered for you, pressing his body between you and the approaching guards to hiss back to the Queen.
“Gladly.”
*
Hours passed in a blur. Geralt guiding you. A stinging pain in your wrist. The blur of faces as you left the castle. A pang of guilt as you passed the knight, disappointment and embarrassment pink across his cheeks. There was the sting of cold as you walked to the stables, banished as Geralt slung your coat around your shoulders.
Both of you wordless.
You had ruined everything.
You had somehow won, and yet lost everything that mattered anyway.
You couldn’t meet his eyes.
You collected Roach word of your banishment could reach the stables, keen to avoid drama or conflict. The clink of guards followed you across the grounds, a silent threat at your back, separated only by three yards of distance and the firm warmth of Geralt’s hand on your lower back.
The familiar ring was uncomfortable on your finger, making you twist it and stare at it.
For the first time in years, Geralt helped you on to Roach, the horse setting a slow pace with both of you on her back, your regular clothes in her saddlebags. The finery felt ridiculous now, as you were escorted off the grounds, Geralt at your back as he guided her.
Fighting to stay awake, you let your eyes close, Geralt letting you as he handled the journey.
Once the guards had left you Geralt dismounted Roach, walking alongside her to relieve her back from the weight of two humans. You leant forwards, as relaxed as you could be against her neck, too exhausted to care whether you were riding safely.
You knew the Witcher would look out for you, no matter how much you had messed up the relationship between you.
After a few miles you had entered a well-worn path through safe forest, a river to your left and a town ahead. A real bed would be welcome, especially at this late hour, but you knew funds were tight after the long journey you had made to be at the banquet.
“I forgot to get you food,” you murmured into Roach’s neck.
“Hm?”
The steady rhythm of Roach and Geralt’s steps was calming, soft against the mud road. You stared at the road passing beneath you as the Witcher watched you, finally meeting his eyes when the motion sickness grew too much. They were soft, tired, heavy as they met yours.
“I was going to steal some money, buy you a meal to apologise for tonight. I forgot.”
He chuckled, dry and confused. You could hear the worry in his laugh.
“I’ve eaten plenty. Though truthfully, I was too distracted to eat.”
“I’m sorry.”
He murmured to the horse as he brought Roach to a halt, then took her off the road and into the woods. One hand found your shoulder to steady you as the terrain grew more uneven.
“We’ll camp here,” he declared, knowing you were well equipped for one night in the forest.
“Okay.”
After a few more moments of travel away from the road you stopped in a clearing, fighting to summon the energy to sit up and begin unhitching bags from Roach. You passed bedrolls and bags to Geralt sharing only murmurs, not needing words after so long on the road together. Stumbling from Roach as you dismounted, you were grateful to see Geralt already building a fire.
You barely remembered your head hitting your bedroll, only waking later as Geralt shook your shoulder.
Water was boiled to drink, steaming as he handed it to you, your blanket draped over you and your bags hung from trees to stay dry as the small campfire blazed.
“Thank you,” you muttered, throat dry, head aching from the tears you had shed.
He nodded, cupping his own water, sat curled on his bedroll in a way which seemed to undermine the hulking stature he usually exhibited.
“I… I really can’t thank you enough. And I’m sorry – I should have known better –”
Your words were croaked, steam from your drink and heat from the fire warming your face. It had to be the early morning, an unusual darkness in the air, the moonless sky looming over the life of the mossy forest.
“You couldn’t have known. Frankly those engagement banquets are usually a shitshow.”
His familiar, baritone pessimism warmed you like no fire or water ever could. From the inside out.
“Yeah?”
His fond glance told you of a story he didn’t care to tell. A crunch of twigs behind you made you jump, whip your head around only to see Roach peacefully grazing. You smiled at her, returning your attention to Geralt, who was smiling indulgently at the pair of you.
Your nap had helped, the adrenaline and stress built up in your system flushed away, replaced with a gentle tiredness that made you feel drunk on freedom. You pulled your hand free of the cup, staring at the unfamiliar shine of metal now occupying your ring finger. You had never considered what it would mean, assumed the Witcher would barely be aware of marriage as more than a bizarre human custom.
It didn’t mean anything – an engagement wasn’t legally binding regardless of the room it was accepted in front of. Geralt hadn’t meant anything by it.
You should move it back, correct this strange diversion in your course and pretend this had never happened. You took another sip of your water. It looked nice there.
To your alarm, Geralt’s watchful gaze was fixed on you as the spell broke, watching the cogs turn in your brain. Embarrassed, you quickly struggling to balance your hot drink and pull the ring off, put it back in its rightful finger.
“Sorry, I…”
“I hope I did the right thing.”
He spoke over you, and you completely forgot the apology you were stammering. You met his eyes, staring into the striking yellow of his irises. It used to be a reminder he was different, alien to you. When that knight had knelt in front of you, you had been underwhelmed with the green of his desperate stare.
“Of course. It was quick thinking, thank you.”
The ring was still there, shifted further up your finger, but it was awkward to get it off without full use of your hands. He stared at it.
“It looks nice there. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but… it looks nice.”
You blinked at him, not quite understanding. Not quite believing. He cleared his throat, fighting his natural quietness to explain.
“It doesn’t have to be… an engagement. But… it’s a reminder. Something to deter those flirts at the taverns. If you want to deter them, that is.”
Raising your mug to your lips concealed the smile you were fighting back, and you watched your Witcher with a quiet hope. A quiet understanding of what was left unsaid. You slid the ring back to its natural place on your finger, nodding even as a giddiness held your tongue. Roach spooked you again, this time passing behind you to get as close to Geralt as her tether would allow.
“At least she had a good evening,” you teased, stretching your wrist with a wince.
No doubt the skin would be aching lightly for days to come, bruised and strained from the Queen’s outburst.
“Unlike that poor knight,” the Witcher added, a playfulness to his voice. “He thought he’d found the opportunity of a lifetime with you.”
You snorted, repressing a shudder at how close you’d been to the path you had so longed to reject. Wondering if that would be the path your life took without Geralt.
“I’m sure he would have been disappointed with the truth,” you replied, watching the crackling firelight.
You smiled, glancing at the Witcher as he looked across at you. Geralt’s eye contact was too much, even in the low light.
“Only because of his small-mindedness, I promise you that.”
“That’s generous,” you laughed.
“That’s true.”
“I’m glad you were there. I froze, and you stood up for me. That means a lot.”
“Of course.”
He was overwhelmingly sincere, and you fought not to wince at it, instead accepting the burning warmth settling in your chest. It only seemed to amplify the weight of the ring on your finger.
The heat was becoming increasingly valuable to you as the nights grew longer, even the days cold. Soon the shivering would grow too much, and you would separate for winter. As you asked the Witcher how far away that inevitable break in your routine was, you felt the weight of his ring on your finger, his intention in your chest.
“I had hoped to stretch it out longer,” he mused, “although the snow may come early this year. I actually wondered…”
For a moment he paused, glancing at Roach as she started to settle, before finding his resolve.
“If it might be easier for you to join me. For the winter. I would like you to.”
“Geralt?”
“Kaer Morhen can be… unwelcoming to outsiders. But I promise my family is more welcoming than yours. The food is not as good, but we eat with friends, rather than enemies.”
You were struck by the weight of the offer, by the urge to say yes. Not only because you truly had nowhere else left to go, but because the pain inflicted upon you by thought of leaving Geralt was tenfold this year.
You would only spend your time scraping by, awaiting his return.
“That sounds like an honour. I would love to.”
“We may have to straighten out our story,” he nodded towards you, no doubt referring to one specific ring, and you huffed in frustration.
“Six months! I know!”
“It is lovely that you said it felt like longer,” he smiled, gentle so as not to reopen an incredibly fresh wound.
“Hm.”
You lacked the heart to flip him off, sipping at your drink instead.
“So I would be your… betrothed… at Kaer Morhen?”
He shrugged.
“Whatever you like.”
You settled back onto your bedroll, placing the mug aside and settling. Geralt did the same, and you watched him sideways as he settled.
“We have all the time in the world to figure it out,” he reassured you, voice muffled as he lay down.
The night was still, the noise of the forest monotonous enough to fade away as your mind slowed to sleep. You could hear Geralt’s weapons click as he shuffled them around near his sleep mat, accessible at a moment’s notice.
“I think I might have made my decision already,” you admitted.
“Oh?”
“There is a rather handsome knight with a farm –”
You could hear his eye roll, it was accompanied by a dramatic groan which made you laugh, your face inches from the forest floor.
“although I doubt he has a horse as fine as Roach.”
Geralt grunted out a laugh, and you could hear the tiredness finally catching up with him.
“If we get married, I’m keeping Roach.”
You went as still as the forest, the rustle of leaves and the faint sounds of the river an unwelcome distraction from the moment passing between the two of you.
If we get married.
“She likes me more. I’m nicer to her.”
He huffed again, that restrained laugh that made you feel like you had a headrush.
“Bullshit.”
You could hear the mumble in his voice, inhibitions melting away with sleep. You longed to close the distance between you.
“I’ll buy you a proper ring, you leave my horse alone.”
As he turned to sleep, grumpiness ringing through his voice, you knew he was deadly serious.
