A Place to Stay, Part 8. Geralt x Reader
So I’ve finally finished. I just wanna say thank you for being patient. To anyone who has been affected by covid-19, or lost loved ones like myself, just know you are not alone, and if you need someone to talk to, I am here for you.
The Storm was still raging on violently as they made their way to the stable. A particularly strong gust of wind had nearly knocked Y/N onto her arse, but Geralt caught her, holding her close to him as they pushed towards the door.
The door, which had seemed so heavy when Y/N had tried to open it flew open with ease when Gerlat pulled on its handle. Both Roach and Y/N’s horse seemed pleased to see the people before them, but more pleased at the food in the buckets they carried.
“That storm is showing no signs of getting any easier,” Y/N said quietly, taking one of the buckets to her horse.
“No,” Geralt hummed, tending to roach. He couldn’t say he was particularly disappointed in the storm's continuation. He had no desire to leave Y/N just yet.
He watched as she cared for her horse, soothing its worried groans as the storm continued to scream ahead. She was so gentle, so sweet as she spoke to it, brushing his head as she went. Geralt's heart felt as though it was swelling, and he didn’t know why. Everything about this woman made him feel whole, as though he had found where it was he was meant to be. He would give anything to have her at his side, whether that was in her small cottage, or even on his travels with him. As selfish as it sounded, Geralt wished that the storm would never end, so that she could remain near him for as long as possible.
“Are you okay?” She smiled, walking up to him. “You seemed a little bit away with the fairies just then,” she giggled, her hand reaching out and touching his arm, sending his heartbeat higher than was normal for even a witcher.
“Hmm, sorry I was just thinking,” he looked down at her, seeing the care in her eyes as she looked back at him. Not one single soul had looked at him in such a way before. “You truly are a beautiful woman Y/N, you know that?”
“That’s very kind of you Geralt,” she smiled, a blush dusting her cheeks making Geralt's heart sing. “Not so bad yourself,” she said softly. She wished she could say more, but was scared that if she did Geralt would discover that she was feeling some sort of way towards him. Changing the subject he smiled, ”We should be going back inside. You should rest, if the storm lifts tomorrow I’m sure you’ll be wanting to hit the road again.”
Geralt only nodded, a hint of disappointment rushing through him at the thought of leaving her, but she was right, he needed the coin, as much as he wanted to stay, he had to leave eventually.
With a sigh he held out his arm for her, allowing her to hold on as they made their way into her cosy house once more, to spend another evening reading and talking.
--
Geralt had stayed for another two nights before he left, the storm still lingering in the air as he made his leave. Each night had been much the same as the night before, they sat, oh so close together, her reading to him, eventually falling asleep beside him. He didn’t fight when she clung to him, taking her straight to her bed and allowing her to curl up beside him. Nothing more became of it, it was as innocent as could be, and yet, both longed for it to be more.
When the day came he made his leave both were unhappy, but both knew that it had to be done. She had waved him off with a bag full of food and a peck on the cheek, promising him a place to stay if ever he needed it, and he had promised he would return, saying only so he could continue the story they had been reading.
Y/N watched as he disappeared into the forest, her heart feeling as though it had been pulled through her chest and stamped upon. She shouldn’t have got attached, she had no reason to be, after all, he was a witcher, there was no chance he felt the same.
A few days had passed since Geralt had left Y/N, and each day he was away from her he felt as though the brightness of the world faded just a little. He had opted to stay in the town south of Y/N’s home, looking out to find any jobs. When his luck came up dry he went to the tavern, too concerned with the ache in his chest to care about the looks or insults thrown at him from the people inside.
Finding a snug table hidden away at the back of the tavern, he ordered an ale, and sat, staring into it, her image on his mind as he watched the dark liquid in the glass. Why was he feeling such a way for her? She was only a stranger, and yet she seemed to have ahold of his heart. He sat for hours, simply staring into the drink before him, just thinking, the images of her running wild in his mind.
“Oh ho! Look who it is!” Geralt would usually have grunted at the joyful tone that was approaching him, but he felt too lost to even bother. “Geralt! My old mate! Best friend there ever was! How are you?”
Geralt looked up to see Jaskier sliding into the chair across from his.
“Jaskier.”
“Where on earth have you been? I haven’t seen you in far too long. Was starting to worry about you,” Jaskier kept chatting away, accounting all the tales he had to tell Geralt, of new songs he had created, of women he had bed and of the husbands he had had to run from. Jaskier began to quiet as he realised Geralt had not looked up from his ale once, nor had he taken a sip since he had sat down. What really make Jaskier curious was how Geralt had yet to tell him to fuck off or shut up. “Somethings wrong, what happened?”
“I’m fine,” Geralt said in a voice that could perhaps even be considered soft.
“Clearly not,” Jaskier said, trying to not let the worry seep into his voice. Geralt looked down, he looked broken, he looked how Jaskier looked when another muse had left him… wait. “Is this about a woman?”
Geralt’s deafening silence followed but a quite hum was all the answer Jaskier needed.
“Geralt! Who is she? And what has she done that is making you look so blue,” Jaskier was careful to pry, knowing Geralt, if he wished, could throw him through the wall of the tavern.
“It’s not important Jaskier.”
“Well clearly it is. I’ve known you for a while and I’ve never seen you look so glum, and never seen you even care about a woman. She must of done something pretty horrific if she’s had this much affect on you.”
“She did not. She was the kindest woman I had ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“Oh,” Jaskier was taken aback but Geralt, but could see the genuine pain in his chest as he spoke of her. “What was her name?”
“Y/N.”
“Did she pass?”
“No, she is very much still alive.”
“Oh, well then did she use your body and then leave you?”
“No, she was far to kind to do such a thing.”
“Then I’m all out of reasons why you could be sad about a woman. Death and her leaving me are the only reasons I’m usually sad about a woman,” Jaskier chuckled, flagging down the tavern owner to get him a drink. “What has got you so down for then?”
“I’m not too sure,” he wasn’t lying. Geralt couldn’t think why it was that his chest felt as though another moment without her it may explode, or why just the thought of the stranger in the woods brought the largest smile to his face. “Nothing happened between us, but… Jaskier, she was like nobody I have ever laid eyes upon. She took me in during the storm, there was just something about her, something that made me feel as though I was complete…” Geralt spoke of her for around half an hour, something which was unusual for a man of very little word such as himself.
Jaskier was hanging off every word until Geralt stopped speaking. Immediately Jaskier was practically face to face with Geralt, suddenly full of all the energy in the world.
“YOU ARE A MAD MAN!”
“Jaskier, sh,” Geralt hushed, feeling the looks of the tavern patrons towards him and the bard.
“There is a perfect woman out there in the woods, and you’re here sitting feeling sorry for yourself when you never even tried to kiss her?! You are not allowed to feel sorry for yourself until you at least make an effort to win her!”
“She is to pure to want someone like me.”
“And how would you know,” Jaskier scoffed. “I didn’t realise witchers also had the ability to read minds now, when did you learn that trick?”
“Shut up,” Geralt growled. “As much as I want for her to be in my arms it would be selfish of me to ask that of her, I can’t ask her to wait for me to return all the time if she allowed me to have her as mine, and what would I do when she doesn’t want me? All that would do is make me feel worse.”
“If she rejects your advance I give you full permission to punch me ten times, as a way to ease your pain,” Jaskier smiled a little smug, “but you can’t do that without at least going and giving it a shot.”
Geralt, as much as he did not wish to, had to agree with the bard.
-
Y/N sat in her small house, noticing for perhaps the first time in since she had moved in how empty it was. Yes, she had trinkets upon trinkets, books from ceiling to floor, but in the absence of the traveler who had much to her disappointment come and gone, her humble home suddenly felt far larger, and far emptier than it actually was.
What ever was wrong with her? He was a random man who had simply needed a place to stay, hy was his absence causing her such heartache. Nothing had come of their meeting, as much as she had wanted it to, she had no right to pine away for a man that was not hers.
In the days since his absence she tried her best to busy herself. She read her books, cooked and baked, and even took a trip on her horse to go and see her family in the town, anything to get his image out of her head.
Tonight was no different. As the night crossed the sky, bringing with it the summer of the moon and a blankets of stars, Y/N set to work making a more complicated meal than needed, something just to keep herself busy. She sung a little to herself, a song of the witcher she had heard while visiting her family, as she made quick work of the task at hand. She bathed as it cooked, and once in her soft night gown she served up just one plate of the meal, realising that she had made far more than needed.
“Maybe the horse will want some,” she sighed, sitting down at her table to enjoy the meal. Sipping on her wine she was once again reminded of the first meeting she had had with Geralt, how he sat on her chair, looking large enough to break it. A soft huff left her lips as she began to eat. The meal wasn’t all that nice, but it was food, so she ate, taking sips of her wine from time to time. For the first time she understood what was meant when people said “silence is deafening”.
Finishing off her meal, she cleaned her plate, and settled herself down in the her chair, wine still in hand. The silence continued, that was until a hard, rather enthusiastic knock, rattled on her door.