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ultralightpoe · 10 months

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Spellbound - Geralt

Spellbound - Geralt

Authors Note: I’m back because I quit my job and have a better schedule at the new job

Warnings: semi smut

Word Count: 4012

Description: geralt fights his feelings until you get trapped in a spell

brothel worker! reader x geralt

Enjoy!

Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them.

That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire.

This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed.

The witcher had always been against you joining the group.

You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him.

A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground.

You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging.

Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?

Wrong.

Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either.

He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much.

Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?

Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence.

Well……anyone but you.

Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good.

You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both.

Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room.

When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs.

It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down.

The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game.

He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger.

“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”

It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own.

The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”

“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach.

By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”

You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch.

“Answer me.”

You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you.

“Humming is not an answer.”

You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”

You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward.

“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down.

“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.

“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”

“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”

“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”

“I do not-”

“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”

“Fuck off.”

Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy.

After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”

A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”

“I do not.”

“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”

“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”

“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest.

Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up.

You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee.

Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine.

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”

“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face.

“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again.

Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down.

“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin.

The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him.

“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.”

“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”

The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”

“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”

He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing.

You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”

“About?”

“About work.”

“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”

“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood.

“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”

“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you.

“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”

“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”

“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”

Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”

“So you would go back to whoring?”

“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”

“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”

A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”

“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”

“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead.

“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”

“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure.

“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt.

Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners.

But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun.

The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song.

“Can I get you another drink?”

“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile.

“Another ale?”

“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down.

The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you.

One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care.

“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs.

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“And you care why?”

“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls.

“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..

“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.”

“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”

“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”

A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”

And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.”

Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment.

But just for a moment.

You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it.

“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”

“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms.

It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth.

The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled.

Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door.

The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair.

His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before.

For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-”

This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red.

“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”

“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes.

Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room.

He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell.

He was a fucking fool.

“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”

And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”

You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes. “Oh make it stop-”

“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”

“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you.

“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick.

“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.” Jaskier shrugs before yawning.

“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room.

- - - - -

Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags.

“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him.

“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.”

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke.

“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”

“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat.

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”

“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”

“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”

“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”

He had to get you.

Part Two

#geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt imagine #geralt angst #witcher #witcher smut #geralt of rivia #witcher angst #witcher imagine #witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher angst #the witcher smut #the witcher c reader #witcher geralt #henry cavill #Geralt Geralt Geralt #witcher season 3 #rory the frenchie

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 months

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destiny ~ geralt of rivia;the witcher

word count: 1749

request?: no

description: after a long, rough journey, the princess feels safe enough to sleep, so her mage talks with the witcher

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was a long, tiring journey to bring Princess Ciri to find her destiny; the Witcher. The poor girl, only a child, had seen far more than anyone her age should ever see. Her grandmother had been smart enough to send a Mage with her at least, but there was only so much one Mage could do against the threats they had faced. When they had finally found him, stood alone after his own battle, and Ciri ran to embrace him, (Y/N) sighed in relief and finally allowed her body to relax.

They set up camp for the night. Geralt promised them he would find them somewhere with an actual bed for the next night, but Ciri could care less about where she was sleeping. (Y/N) knew she felt relieved, too. And finally the young princess could sleep knowing that she was safe.

Ciri was sound asleep next to a fire (Y/N) had built to keep her warm. The Mage was sat against a tree nearby, just watching. Knowing that Ciri was safe, that she felt safe enough to finally let her guard down, gave (Y/N) such a sense of relief that she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You should be sleeping as well.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Geralt stood over her. She was surprised a man of his size was able to move so silently, but then again it was probably a skill he had to pick up as a Witcher.

“I would imagine you are just as exhausted as she,” he said.

“I am,” (YN) confirmed. “But not so exhausted that my body wishes to rest just yet. I guess it hasn’t realized yet that there is no threat anymore.”

“There are still plenty of threats.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, she rests soundly, and she is safe.”

Geralt looked over at the sleeping girl. For years he had been trying to deny Ciri. He didn’t believe in destiny, and he was the last person who should be looking after a child. But now that she was here, unharmed and at peace, he couldn’t deny that he felt relief as well. There were still plenty of threats out there, that much was still true, but he decided to agree with (Y/N) just this once. Tonight, they were all safe.

Geralt sat across from her. “You did well in protecting her. She likely wouldn’t have made it this far on her own.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” (Y/N) admitted. “I promised her grandmother that nothing would happen to her, and I am not one to break a promise.”

“I was unaware that Queen Calanthe had a Mage in her kingdom.”

“I’m not a royal Mage. Just an old friend that she asked a favor of.”

“A very good friend to risk your life.”

(Y/N) smiled and shrugged. “I have known Ciri since birth, and her mother before her. I would do anything to keep that girl safe.”

She was gazing at Ciri again. Geralt noticed the look on her face. “Do you have children of your own?”

“Oh, Gods no. Those are very uncommon in my line of work.”

“No lover either, then?”

She chuckled. “Also very uncommon. It’s hard to let yourself fall in love when you are immortal.”

Geralt wasn’t sure why he even asked. It felt like the logical next question after asking if she had children, but Geralt cared very little if she had said yes to having a lover. Or, so he thought anyways.

(Y/N) looked back to him, a sly grin on her face. “Queen Calnthe told me about your ties to Ciri.”

Geralt grunted. “I’m sure she did.”

“She could hardly tell the story without a string of profanities.” (Y/N) giggled. “No one has ever made the queen more angry than Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt found himself smiling as well.

“Well,” (Y/N) said, tilting her head a little. “Would you look at that.”

“What?” he asked.

“The Witcher smiles. And he looks quiet handsome doing so.”

(Y/N) was nothing if not forward. One does not live for many decades and not become bold and forward. She felt a little delight when she saw a brief look of shock on Geralt’s face. She certainly wasn’t lying, though. Anyone with eyes could see that Geralt was good looking. She was sure he was able to use that to his advantage as well.

Silence fell over them. The only sounds were the wildlife around them and the crackling fire. Both of them turned to check on Ciri at the same time, as if some sort of instinct kicked in for them both. (Y/N) took Geralt’s distraction as an opportunity to really study him. She had seen a look in his eyes when Ciri had run to him earlier, but it was so brief that she couldn’t place it at the time. He had been wearing his tough guy mask since, except for this moment. As he gazed at Ciri, (Y/N) could see two emotions on his face: relief and worry.

“The queen also told me,” (Y/N) said, drawing Geralt’s attention back to her, “that you weren’t going to claim Cirilla at first. She said you called Law of Surprise without truly believing in it.”

Geralt grunted. “All that bullshit about destiny. I didn’t believe any of it. I called Law of Surprise because they insisted on something for me saving Urcheon’s life. I didn’t actually believe I would get anything.”

“And yet...” (Y/N) glanced towards the sleeping princess.

He nodded. “I didn’t want a child by any means. This is not a life for a child. If destiny is real, it has played a cruel trick on her.”

“Or it has given her a father that she so dearly needed after her own passed.”

“And a mother?”

(Y/N) smiled. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t thought about the next step after Ciri was united with Geralt. Truthfully, she didn’t want to think about it. The thought of being separated from Ciri hurt too much, but she didn’t expect Geralt to want her to travel with them. He had been travelling alone for so many years that she was sure it would take time for him to get used to Ciri being with him, let alone if (Y/N) joined as well. She felt full of joy hearing Geralt insinuate that he wanted her to continue travelling with them as well. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ciri just yet, or to Geralt for that matter.

“What a family we’d be,” she laughed. “A Witcher, a Mage, and a princess. Sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke.”

Geralt chuckled as well. (Y/N)’s smile broke as she let out a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Geralt told her.

“As should you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) nodded. She wasn’t in any position to argue with him over whether or not he was actually going to sleep. She could feel herself finally being bogged down by her fatigue and knew it wouldn’t be long until she gave in completely.

Geralt’s eyes followed her as she moved to her knees. Instead of rising, she leaned towards him to close the gap between them. She lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, leaving a gentle kiss there before pulling away. He tried to keep his face unchanged as she sat back to look at him.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

~~~~~~

The sun was high in the sky when (Y/N) woke the next day. The fire had gone out and the heat was instead replaced by the scorching sun. (Y/N) blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes used to the brightness of day. When she finally managed to clear her vision, she noticed she was alone at the camp.

She quickly sat up and looked around. There was barely any signs that anyone else had ever been here. Just the kindle left over from the fire she had lit for Ciri. She felt herself beginning to panic. Had they left her? Had someone taken Ciri and Geralt went after them? Had Geralt changed his mind about having her join them?

She was getting to her feet when she heard the sound of horse hooves against the ground. A horse broke through the clearing in a fast trot before coming to a stop. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when Ciri jumped down from the back of the horse.

“Good morning,” the young princess said, walking up to wrap her arms around (Y/N). The Mage was taken back by the gesture at first, but then happily hugged Ciri back.

“More like good afternoon,” Geralt commented, jumping down from his horse as well. “You’ve been asleep for hours. We went on to find food without you.”

“Forgive me for being tired,” (Y/N) said, playfully glaring at Geralt. To Ciri, she asked, “Did you sleep well, princess?”

“The best I’ve slept since we left Cintra,” Ciri admitted.

(Y/N) smiled and cupped her face. “You are safe now, princess. The Witcher and I will look after you and make sure no one will cause you any harm.”

Ciri looked between (Y/N) and Geralt, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “You’ll be staying with us?”

“Of course. I’ve come too far in this journey to let you go on without me. Although, I will need something to eat in order to continue on.”

She eyed Geralt. He chuckled and said, “Alright then, let’s find you something to eat as well.”

They went on foot with Geralt leading his horse behind him. Ciri was between the two of them, protected by her Mage and her Witcher.

“I was thinking,” Geralt said after some time of walking, “about our discussion last night. About destiny.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “Yes?”

“Maybe there is such thing as destiny, and maybe it isn’t as bad as I once thought.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?”

“Ciri was meant to be my destiny, but she wasn’t the only good thing that destiny brought to me.”

He looked directly at her when he spoke. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She had no good response, so she just kept walking, a smile on her face.

She would have to thank destiny for bringing her to Geralt as well.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #the witcher #the witcher imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Something that frustrates me about the Harry Potter conversation is a lot of people missing the point behind the motivation to boycott it. They seem weirdly focused on the content of HP when it's actually... not that bad? It's not perfect, in fact a lot of aspects are pretty fucking problematic and worthy of discussion, but not uniquely so by the standards of the fantasy genre. Yes, I know the goblins are clearly drawing on anti-semitic tropes. Yes, the house elf situation is fucked. Yes, lots of not-like-other-girls-style misogyny. Yes, Cho Chang was a fucking disaster of racism. I KNOW THIS ALREADY! I'm not an idiot and Harry Potter fans were talking about this for far longer than JKR has been a TERF. But I'm also a fan of the Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age and the Witcher and a shitton of isekai anime and tons of other fantasy medias which are so much worse. Harry Potter is only moderately problematic by the standards of most popular fantasy media, especially for the mainstream standards of the time period it was written. Worthy of criticism, but not dropping it entirely. And actually reading HP and looking back at JKR's behaviour at the time, much of it seems largely unintentional, just that JKR drew on a lot of fantasy tropes that she didn't properly examine as well as her own unexamined biases and she had some flawed understandings of progressivism that were fair for its day but don't fly now, but doesn't seem malicious. The actual authorial intent at least seems to be pretty progressive at least, even if the execution wasn't the best. And sure, it's not a masterwork but there's a reason it connected to so many people, even if a lot of it was luck and timing. We don't have to ignore that and doing so feels dishonest.

I'm just so annoyed when people try to shit on the contents because they're missing the point and confuse the actual problem in a way that weakens their argument. I don't give Harry Potter money anymore because JKR crossed some lines for me in real life, totally separate from Harry Potter as a piece of media, and I don't want to fund her bullshit because she is so influential it is hurting people. The content of her books is utterly irrelevant to this decision. She could have penned a goddamn magnum opus and it wouldn't have mattered. So I'm sick of people bringing up books that are "better" or ragging on the contents of Harry Potter because none of that is the point and never was the point and it comes across as just taking advantage of a shitty situations to dunk on a popular thing or those who enjoyed it. Yeah, it was a mediocre fantasy series. But it hit the right emotional escapist buttons in a lot of kids even if it had the moral nuance and depth of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles anti-drug PSA. Having to drop it sucked for a lot of people because it can't be replaced and yelling about how bad the writing was doesn't change that because it never was about quality. JKR's TERF transformation was in many ways a betrayal of JKR's intended audience considering how the text preached acceptance and love and starred an abused, unwanted child getting to go to magic school where he's special. Pretending Harry Potter should be dropped because its content has issues obscures the actual problem of a raging transphobic having money and influence and that not everything created by bad people is poor quality so boycotts might require giving up access to things you actually like or are valuable and that's not always an easy decision to make.

JKR was a probably decent person with fairly liberal politics when she wrote Harry Potter. The books, while imperfect, are not more horrible or full of problems a dozen other popular fantasy properties. JKR become a TERF later in life and while she may have had ingrained transphobia prior to this when she wrote Harry Potter, that is not the same as the virulent hate-movement she's part of now and we should recognize how easy it is for people to get drawn into hate-movements. Any argument to boycott should be about how she's using her money and influence to affect real life laws and attitudes unless you want to try and get people to also drop half the fantasy genre.

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thunderboltfire · 2 months

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I have a lot of complicated feelings when it comes to what Neflix has done with the Witcher, but my probably least favourite is the line of argumentation that originated during shitstorms related to the first and second season that I was unlucky to witness.

It boils down to "Netflix's reinterpretation and vision is valid, because the Witcher books are not written to be slavic. The overwhelming Slavic aestetic is CDPR's interpretation, and the setting in the original books is universally European, as there are references to Arthurian mythos and celtic languages" And I'm not sure where this argument originated and whether it's parroting Sapkowski's own words or a common stance of people who haven't considered the underlying themes of the books series. Because while it's true that there are a lot of western european influences in the Witcher, it's still Central/Eastern European to the bone, and at its core, the lack of understanding of this topic is what makes the Netflix series inauthentic in my eyes.

The slavicness of the Witcher goes deeper than the aestetics, mannerisms, vodka and sour cucumbers. Deeper than Zoltan wrapping his sword with leopard pelt, like he was a hussar. Deeper than the Redanian queen Hedvig and her white eagle on the red field.

What Witcher is actually about? It's a story about destiny, sure. It's a sword-and-sorcery style, antiheroic deconstruction of a fairy tale, too, and it's a weird mix of many culture's influences.

But it's also a story about mundane evil and mundane good. If You think about most dark, gritty problems the world of Witcher faces, it's xenophobia and discrimination, insularism and superstition. Deep-seated fear of the unknown, the powerlessness of common people in the face of danger, war, poverty and hunger. It's what makes people spit over their left shoulder when they see a witcher, it's what makes them distrust their neighbor, clinging to anything they deem safe and known. It's their misfortune and pent-up anger that make them seek scapegoats and be mindlessly, mundanely cruel to the ones weaker than themselves.

There are of course evil wizards, complicated conspiracies and crowned heads, yes. But much of the destruction and depravity is rooted in everyday mundane cycle of violence and misery. The worst monsters in the series are not those killed with a silver sword, but with steel. it's hard to explain but it's the same sort of motiveless, mundane evil that still persist in our poorer regions, born out of generations-long poverty and misery. The behaviour of peasants in Witcher, and the distrust towards authority including kings and monarchs didn't come from nowhere.

On the other hand, among those same, desperately poor people, there is always someone who will share their meal with a traveller, who will risk their safety pulling a wounded stranger off the road into safety. Inconditional kindness among inconditional hate. Most of Geralt's friends try to be decent people in the horrible world. This sort of contrasting mentalities in the recently war-ridden world is intimately familiar to Eastern and Cetral Europe.

But it doesn't end here. Nilfgaard is also a uniquely Central/Eastern European threat. It's a combination of the Third Reich in its aestetics and its sense of superiority and the Stalinist USSR with its personality cult, vast territory and huge army, and as such it's instantly recognisable by anybody whose country was unlucky enough to be caught in-between those two forces. Nilfgaard implements total war and looks upon the northerners with contempt, conscripts the conquered people forcibly, denying them the right of their own identity. It may seem familiar and relevant to many opressed people, but it's in its essence the processing of the trauma of the WW2 and subsequent occupation.

My favourite case are the nonhumans, because their treatment is in a sense a reminder of our worst traits and the worst sins in our history - the regional antisemitism and/or xenophobia, violence, local pogroms. But at the very same time, the dilemma of Scoia'Tael, their impossible choice between maintaining their identity, a small semblance of freedom and their survival, them hiding in the forests, even the fact that they are generally deemed bandits, it all touches the very traumatic parts of specifically Polish history, such as January Uprising, Warsaw Uprising, Ghetto Uprising, the underground resistance in WW2 and the subsequent complicated problem of the Cursed Soldiers all at once. They are the 'other' to the general population, but their underlying struggle is also intimately known to us.

The slavic monsters are an aestetic choice, yes, but I think they are also a reflection of our local, private sins. These are our own, insular boogeymen, fears made flesh. They reproduce due to horrors of the war or they are an unprovoked misfortune that descends from nowhere and whose appearance amplifies the local injustices.

I'm not talking about many, many tiny references that exist in the books, these are just the most blatant examples that come to mind. Anyway, the thing is, whether Sapkowski has intended it or not, Witcher is slavic and it's Polish because it contains social commentary. Many aspects of its worldbuilding reflect our traumas and our national sins. It's not exclusively Polish in its influences and philosophical motifs of course, but it's obvious it doesn't exist in a vacuum.

And it seems to me that the inherently Eastern European aspects of Witcher are what was immediately rewritten in the series. It seems to me that the subtler underlying conflicts were reshaped to be centered around servitude, class and gender disparity, and Nilfgaard is more of a fanatic terrorist state than an imposing, totalitarian empire. A lot of complexity seems to be abandoned in lieu of usual high-fantasy wordbuilding. It's especially weird to me because it was completely unnecessary. The Witcher books didn't need to be adjusted to speak about relevant problems - they already did it! The problem of acceptance and discrimination is a very prevalent theme throughout the story! They are many strong female characters too, and they are well written. Honestly I don't know if I should find it insulting towards their viewers that they thought it won't be understood as it was and has to be somehow reshaped to fit the american perpective, because the current problems are very much discussed in there and Sapkowski is not subtle in showing that genocide and discrimination is evil. Heck, anyone who has read the ending knows how tragic it makes the whole story.

It also seems quite disrespectful, because they've basically taken a well-established piece of our domestic literature and popular culture and decided that the social commentary in it is not relevant. It is as if all it referenced was just not important enough and they decided to use it as an opportunity to talk about the problems they consider important. And don't get me wrong, I'm not forcing anyone to write about Central European problems and traumas, I'm just confused that they've taken the piece of art already containing such a perspective on the popular and relevant problem and they just... disregarded it, because it wasn't their exact perspective on said problem.

And I think this homogenisation, maybe even from a certain point of view you could say it's worldview sanitisation is a problem, because it's really ironic, isn't it? To talk about inclusivity in a story which among other problems is about being different, and in the same time to get rid of motifs, themes and references because they are foreign? Because if something presents a different perspective it suddenly is less desirable?

There was a lot of talking about the showrunners travelling to Poland to understand the Witcher's slavic spirit and how to convey it. I don't think they really meant it beyond the most superficial, paper-thin facade.

#The witcher #Sorry if its convoluted I just got reminded of something and it made me a little angry #and as I had this conversation a lot of times I've decided to put it into written text #sorry about being bitter #but these are some of my favourite books and I'm still upset when I get reminded how badly they were treated in the recent adaptation #I'm not saying you should never change anything #But it's good to have enough background to understand why some things are the way they are in the original #and to understand what the source material is about #we don't talk about particular character's looks or something (altough I feel they could care more about it too)#but central themes tropes and motifs #long post #it may seem like I'm talking from a high horse here #people are welcome to interpret literature however they want #Nobody has a monopol on themes #I just think that in this particular case the cultural context influences the worldbuilding #and if changed it doesn't have the same impact anymore #meta

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ro-is-struggling · 5 months

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The Princess and The Wolf || PART 2 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: All she wanted was to show Geralt that she could be part of his world, that it was worth putting in the effort to build a future together. He was her true home, the person she belonged to, the one who gave her life purpose, and all she wanted was to share the rest of her life with him. But things were not so simple and the differences that separated them were far too many.

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, a bit of jealousy and sexual tension, banter, mentions of blood and canon typical violence, angst at the end, my poor knowledge of the saga probably

English is not my first language

Word count: 15.500

Notes: the part with the hirikka is definitely not there just cause I thought it was cute and I got pissed off when the dude killed it in that episode of season 1, nope, not at all…ALSO the show is not very clear with the whole signs thing so everything that I wrote about them is based off things I read about the games and my own imagination, so sorry if it’s wrong/not true to the story

READ PART 1 HERE

"I want to go with you."

The words escaped so casually from the young woman's lips that Geralt had to ask her to repeat them to make sure he had heard correctly. It was the middle of the night and he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing on his eyelids, but refusing to give in for some reason. He wasn't expecting to hear those words. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear her speak at all since he thought she was still asleep, so her voice alarmed him.

"Go with me where?" The witcher mumbled his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes opened to look at the princess resting beside him, tucked into his chest as her fingers nervously traced the lines of the scars on his chest.

"I don't know," she shrugged, still not returning his gaze. "Wherever you're heading next."

Geralt frowned slightly. They had known each other for quite some time. Since he had helped her escape from her family he had shown up countless times at her door, seeking the aid of her healing powers and, more importantly, her company. And in all that time she had never shown any kind of interest in what he did outside the walls of her home. She asked him questions, sure, and constantly scolded him for being "too irresponsible" —her words, not his—, but she had never expressed an interest in joining him on his travels.

That was kind of the point of their implicit agreement, so he didn't really mind that much. She was his secret helper, the motivation that drove him to do his job better. It was all worth it if at the end of a contract he was compensated according to his work and effort and, most importantly, if he had the chance to stop by her house to restore his energy. Geralt had always seen their relationship as sacred, a parallel world in which he could take refuge when things became too complicated or overwhelming. It was why he had never thought of taking her along on one of his trips. And it was also the reason for his surprise at that request.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

The young woman shrugged again and was silent for a moment as she tried to decide on what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't know —she was well aware of the motivations behind her words—, but rather that she wasn't sure if she should express them so openly out loud.

"That's not an answer, sunshine." Geralt pressed her and she let out a quiet snort.

"I want to explore the world, see what other options I have. I thought that this place was all I needed, but lately I've been questioning it." She finally said, glancing up to meet Geralt's eyes.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Yes, in the last few months she had found herself questioning her decisions, wondering if perhaps the world had more to offer her. She was happy in her hut, living among nature, away from her family that had hurt her so much. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still hadn't found the true purpose of her life. She had managed to free herself from the oppressive clutches of her parents who wanted to impose on her a future she hated, and while that was an achievement in itself, she still couldn't imagine a clear future for herself. Well, actually she could, it just wasn't a very realistic future.

All she wanted was to be with Geralt.

It was something that took her time to accept, partly because she knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew that Geralt was a... complicated man, with an unconventional lifestyle. She also knew that they were almost complete opposites. He was a man of great experience, gained after living years on the continent, and she was a young runaway princess who had lived her entire life controlled by the desires and expectations of others, and only now had the ability to choose and control her destiny. He was cold, calculating, capable of remaining calm even when faced with the worst of dangers, and she was impulsive and sentimental, often feeling things ten times as strongly as the common person. He was quiet and reserved, and used to living a wandering life, while she was cheerful and sociable, and desperate to find a place to belong.

But despite all the things that set them apart, she couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him. And she couldn't ignore the happiness that came over her every time he showed up at her door or the loneliness that haunted her when he left. Her days were miserable when she was alone, her mind always finding a way to focus on him again. She spent her time wondering where he was and what he was doing, worrying about his safety and health. She often wondered if he was also thinking about her and if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Waiting for his return was an agony that became more difficult the more time they spent together. The more she got to know Geralt, the more she fell in love and the more it pained her to see him go. The few days he used to spend at her home were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be with him at all times, to learn more about his world, to join him in his adventures, to be more than a refuge away from his daily reality. She wanted to share her life with him, and for him to share his life with her.

"I thought you liked it here." Geralt's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"I do!" She was quick to reply. "I just... I'm not sure this is what I want for my future. I feel like there's a lot more out there for me to explore..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain her feelings without revealing too much.

"And what makes you think that coming with me will help you find what you're looking for?" Geralt asked her and she shrugged again.

"It's a start. You travel all over the continent, what better way to explore the world than by being by your side?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, sunshine." The witcher sighed. Her eyes reflected the pain those words awakened in her and he felt horrible for saying them, but he knew it was for the best. The road, his way of life, was not meant for someone like her.

"Why not?" she murmured, barely containing the pout that was trying to form in her sad expression.

"Because it's too dangerous. I don't just travel the continent, I fight evil, dangerous creatures. I cant do my job if I'm worried about your safety."

"I'm not asking you to let me fight with you, I'm asking you to let me tag along and explore the world with you. I don't have to be near any kind of danger."

"Well, that's what Jaskier always says and he always gets dragged into danger."

"Would it help if I promised to keep my distance and always listen to you and follow your orders?" She looked at Geralt with an innocent face, batting her eyelashes and pouting to try to convince him. She looked so adorable that it was honestly hard for him to refuse her.

"He always says that too." He countered with a half smile that widened slightly at the sight of her annoyed frown. She always looked pretty when she was angry, that was the reason why most of the time he didn't listen to her scolding —he always got lost in her beauty.

"Why are you being so mean?" She accused him, sitting on the bed with her arms folded and a look of dismay.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being careful and protecting you."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need your protection?"

Geralt was silent for a moment, admiring her face in the dim light. He knew he was exaggerating, that it was entirely possible for her to travel with him without anything bad happening to her. But it was also possible that things could go wrong and that alone was enough to bring up his fear of losing her. His work —and his life itself— was somewhat unpredictable at times. He didn't always choose when to confront evil creatures. Sometimes he crossed paths with one by pure coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to avoid it. He had a moral obligation to act in such situations, so danger always lurked, following in his footsteps closely, waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. Geralt was used to it, it was his daily reality, the only one he had ever known - since his life before his transformation was not even a distant memory in his mind.

But it was not her reality. She had lived in a castle for most of her life and was only now beginning to be completely independent. She was not prepared for the kind of danger that a witcher's life entailed. Her little knowledge of medicinal and healing magic could not protect her. And if he failed at that too... Geralt didn't even want to think about it.

"Maybe," he said, in a calm voice, "but I need to protect you... I need to know that you're alright."

Her gaze softened as a warm sensation ran through her body. The sincerity in his voice made her want to smile. He cared about her, about her safety and well-being. He needed her. He sought to protect her because he didn't want to lose her and that was reason enough for her heart to race and her eyes to fill with illusion.

"I know you do and I appreciate it." She spoke, voice soft and posture relaxed. She reached up to stroke his cheek, gently moving a lock of hair from his face so she could look into his eyes. Geralt leaned into her touch in an almost imperceptible movement, unable to resist the warm caress of her fingers. "Everything that I have, I owe it to you. You helped me be free and I trust you with my life, not just to protect me but to guide me... to help me find my way. There is really no other person I could ask for something like this... there is no one I trust more than I trust you."

And just like that, the discussion was over. All Geralt had to do was look into her eyes —those beautiful warm eyes that brought him so much comfort and happiness— and he lost all ability to fight. His own thoughts and worries were replaced by the need to make her happy. All he wanted was to see that sparkle in her eyes and know that he was the cause of it, the reason she was smiling. How could he refuse her requests when she looked at him with such illusion as she spoke those sweet words to him? He was willing to do anything to make her happy, even if it meant throwing caution to the wind.

"You have to promise that you will never leave my sight and that you will do what I say without question."

The young woman's face lit up immediately, a big smile playing across her lips as she looked at the witcher with wide open eyes. She looked like a child who had gotten her wish fulfilled. "Is that a yes?"

Geralt sighed with resignation and nodded his head. She let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him as she repeated over and over how grateful and happy she was with his decision. A small, subtle smile tugged at his lips, feeling that comforting warmth run through his body as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He was worried about what might happen, but for the moment that didn't matter. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his and the kiss she planted on his cheek as a thank you. She was happy and that made it all worth it.

"Just don't make me regret it." He warned her and she shook her head.

"I promise I'll be good. You won't regret this, Geralt."

Geralt wouldn't say he regretted his decision completely, but he couldn't say he was happy either. He had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with her getting distracted every time she saw a pretty bird fly overhead and complaining about the long journey that never seemed to end —she didn't seem to realize that her presence had a lot to do with the slowness of their journey. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain completely either, which made Geralt worry more than usual about every step he took. While she listened to his directions and stayed in place when he instructed her to, she also took advantage of any moments of distraction —usually when he slept— to wander around the forest alone and without carrying a weapon to protect herself.

It wasn't all bad, though. Yes, she drove him mad with her songs to nature and her need to stop every time they came across a wounded animal, but Geralt couldn't deny that a part of him loved that about her. He loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face when a deer crossed her path or the sparkle in her eyes as she admired the sun setting over the river. There was an innocence in her attitude that captivated him. An amazement at the world around her that was so foreign to him, and yet so charming. After living so many years on the continent, he could not imagine experiencing such a fascination with the world. He admired it in a way, it reminded him of a time long ago, of a life he thought was buried in the darkness of his memory. It was part of her charm, part of the reason he couldn't seem to get away from her. She awakened the good in him, a light he thought he had lost after undergoing the mutations that turned him into the witcher he was today.

So, as much as he panicked every time she got too far away from him, he still wouldn't change a thing. Everything that made him groan in the daytime was worth it when she would curl up against him in front of the campfire at night, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the calm of the forest soothe her to sleep. It was actually embarrassing how much time Geralt spent admiring her beauty under the moonlight, watching her sleep peacefully curled up next to him as if she were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. There was something about nature and the outdoors that awakened a special glow in her, a magnetic aura that kept him from taking his eyes off her. So he stayed awake at night longer than he should, watching her sleep while his mind was lost in thought.

She was the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the last thing he thought about and dreamed about. Every night Geralt would give her a kiss on the forehead before settling down beside her. It was quick and soft so as not to disturb her sleep, but he needed it to know that she was real, that someone so wonderful had decided to follow him in his dark and tumultuous life. Every night, the witcher went to sleep thinking about her, how lucky he was to have her by his side and how important she was to him. He thought of the dangers that surrounded him and silently wished that nothing bad would ever happen to her. That was one of the recurring nightmares he had, returning one night to her hut and not finding her there. The idea of her relationship with him being what would ultimately lead to her demise haunted him.

Not being there to protect her from the evils of the continent was one of his greatest worries. Losing her was his greatest fear. So when he opened his eyes in the morning and did not find her by his side he jumped up as panic began to take over his body. He called her name several times, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the forest, but he got no response other than the sound of fluttering birds fleeing in fear of the disturbance. Geralt was preparing to set out to hunt whatever it was that had taken her, when the wind brought the melodious sound of her voice to his ears. He followed it through the trees and bushes, feeling his nerves calm as he listened to her laughter. She wasn't in danger, she was just being careless, as usual.

"Geralt!" she exclaimed with a smile as she looked up to meet her companion's white hair sticking out among the green bushes. "Thank the gods that you are here, I need you to help me move him."

The witcher looked at her in confusion for a moment, until he looked down at her lap where a badly wounded creature rested. But it wasn't just any creature, it was a hirikka that looked at him with big yellow eyes full of terror. From the size of the beast, Geralt guessed it was just a puppy, and since it wasn't attacking anyone he assumed it was well fed —though his benevolence could very well be just the effect of the young princess on the creature since she tended to have a special relationship with animals. Still, it had been careless of her to approach the animal, especially while he slept. If the creature had been adult and hungry, it could have been very dangerous for her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before Geralt could open his mouth. He didn't need to speak to let her know what he thought of her actions, she could read it in his face. "His cries of pain woke me up and I just couldn't leave him to suffer."

"So you walked away from the camp and tended to the wounds of a dangerous creature without bothering to even wake me up?"

"Oh he could never hurt me! Look at those big, adorable eyes! He wouldn't hurt a fly, would you baby?" she excused herself, petting the hirikka's head as if it were a dog.

"He could have hurt you if he was hungry." the witcher huffed, unable to believe he was having such a conversation.

"He's a baby, Geralt, and it's wounded. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself from a wounded animal."

"That's not the point. You risked your life wandering into the woods like that!"

"I'm fine!" She dismissed his concerns, completely oblivious to the panic that swept through him when he woke up without her by his side. "Now help me move him, we need to get him to the mountain."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hirikkas usually live around the mountains, right?" Geralt nodded, already guessing where the young woman's argument was headed. "That means that this poor little thing is far from home. He probably came here for food and then got lost and wounded. We need to find his family so they can protect him."

"Hirikkas are a really rare species, what makes you think he even has a family in the first place?"

"Well, he's young he has to have someone taking care of him." She said as it was obvious causing Geralt to roll his eyes.

"We passed the mountains two days ago, we can't just go back to search for a group of creatures that may not even be there in the first place."

"We can't leave him here alone either, he will die! You said it yourself, hirikkas are a rare species, if someone finds him they're definitely going to kill him!"

"Sunshine, we can't…"

"Please! We don't even have to get him to the mountains, just close enough for his family to hear his cries." She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pout on her lips. How could he refuse her wishes when she looked so adorable and vulnerable? It was a waste of time, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. She was too pure, too good for this world.

He knew how much she cared for the animals, the urge she felt to help them. According to the things she had told him about her life, the woods surrounding her old home had been her refuge. She hid there to escape the orders and hurtful comments of her family, finding more support in the wild rabbits and deers than in the people who lived in her castle. It was also the place where she had discovered her magical healing skills and the only place where she tended to use them. She had a deep connection with nature and Geralt knew there would be no convincing her to leave the animal alone to its fate.

"We'd have to backtrack two days of travel." He tried to reason with her, a last resort to see if he could get her to change her mind.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, just help me load him on the horse and I'll go by myself. You can go to the village and wait for me there."

"I'm not leaving you out here alone!" Geralt firmly stated. Then he let out a sigh of defeat. "You stay here, I'll go find Roach."

He made his way back to Roach mumbling to himself, unable to believe he had agreed to waste time backtracking his steps to help an injured animal. It was sad, yes, but normally he wouldn't stop for it. It's the law of nature. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and eventually you die. There was no point in worrying about things that were out of one's control.

But she cared. Even if it was an animal that inspired terror in most people. Even if it was a small, insignificant creature that no one would miss, she would. She still talked about the rodent she once rescued from the clutches of a hungry owl as if it was one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. She cared about everyone, even when no one seemed to care about her —her family had stopped looking for her long ago and her subjects had not been saddened by the news. She cared, and that was enough for him to care too.

"What am I doing?" muttered Geralt to himself as he adjusted the horse's saddle. "Wasting days of travel just for a wounded animal." Roach snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the reins in the witcher's hands. He took a moment to pet the animal, letting out an airy chuckle. "I know, I know, she's worth it." He added before setting off down the path to where she stood waiting for him. She had won yet again.

“Oh stop being so grumpy! It wasn’t that bad.” She exclaimed, playfully nudging at his shoulder in an attempt to get a smile out of the witcher. He had been silent for hours now, communicating with her through grunts and frowns. Sure, the rain that had caught them in the middle of their journey wasn't ideal, but at least they were close to town when the first drops began to fall from the sky. "For a person who lives on the road, you don't seem too used to riding in a little rain."

"I am, I just find it annoying when we weren't supposed to be out in the rain in the first place." Geralt grumbled and she smiled, happy that he was back to communicating verbally.

"You don't know that, something else could have slowed us down along the way."

"Yes, probably another wounded animal." he mumbled to himself, though she heard him anyway and gave him a punch in the shoulder that probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

"We saved a vulnerable creature from a terrible fate, you should be proud of that!" She insisted, pushing open the doors of the inn where they had stopped for shelter.

The warmth from the interior suddenly hit her, embracing her wet skin and making her realize how cold she really was. The cloak she'd worn to protect herself from the water didn't do much given the force of the storm, but she would never admit that to Geralt - to do so would mean agreeing with him and she wasn't about to do that, not in that at least. The inn's common room was full of people, some wet and tired like them, others dancing and singing, no doubt after having had a few too many drinks. There was a fireplace in the center of the room that provided warmth and illumination. Her eyes were lost in the glowing flames for a moment, wishing she could get closer to the fire to keep the cold from chilling her bones. But she gave Geralt a quick glance and knew she couldn't do that, not without him smiling victoriously at her. So instead she decided to approach who seemed to be the owner of the place to get a room.

"You stay here, he's not going to give us a room if he sees that look on your face." she said, disappearing into the sea of people before Geralt could defend himself against her comment —although he was fairly certain she had a point.

The inn owner seemed to be a kind man, though he looked overwhelmed with the number of visitors he was receiving. Apparently the storm had brought with it more people than usually passed through those roads and the man and his helpers struggled to accommodate them all. He was running from place to place, checking the available rooms at every turn and chasing after his workers to escort people to their quarters. The waitresses were also overworked, navigating the crowds of people to bring jars of beer and plates of warm food to the tables full of cold people. Taking a closer look at the state of the place made her begin to fear that she might not find an available room. She had no idea how far it would be to the next inn, but even if it was a couple of feet away, it would be too far for the heavy rain falling from the sky. If they had to go out and get wet again, she would have to put up with Geralt's scowl for the rest of the night and as cute as he looked when he was angry, she didn't feel like listening to his complaints.

“Letha! Could you please check if room ten is still available?” The man shouted, calling out to his maid, when she asked if they still had any rooms available. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a moment."

"Busy night, huh?" She tried to make small talk, finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

"Yeah, it's a miracle! I haven't had the place this crowded in a long time."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place."

"There have been strange happenings going on in this part of town that affected businesses like mine." The man explained with some sadness and insecurity in his voice. It was subtle, but enough to peak his curiosity. So she continued to question him in hopes that he would share more of that mystery with her.

"There have been strange disappearances, people vanishing into thin air leaving almost no trace of their passage through these lands. At first they were just travelers, so no one really noticed or cared, myself included. Until it started to happen a lot more frequently. Every couple of days someone would find some traveler's belongings scattered along the road leading out of town, but no trace of the person. Eventually word spread and travelers stopped using this road to come into town and both my business and neighboring ones were severely affected."

"Do you know what it is that is causing these disappearances? Do you have any theories?"

"People say the road is cursed, I've heard people talk about an evil witch and others claim it's a punishment from the gods, but no one knows what's really going on. The rest of the town doesn't believe us much either, so the mayor doesn't do anything about it."

"He's going to pay for that mistake," a waitress interrupted the conversation, leaving the empty tray on the counter as she leaned over the wood to join the conversation. "It's getting worse. Now that there's no more travelers, people from the town are starting to disappear. If he doesn't believe us now, he will soon."

The young princess wanted to continue investigating, but before she could ask about the recent disappearances, the maid returned to tell her that room ten was ready for use. She thanked her and paid for the night using the money she had earned selling her goods at the fair in the village where she lived. It was her way of compensating Geralt for the inconvenience caused without having to admit to his face that he was right.

"We have a room for the night, can you please change your attitude now?" She announced when she returned to him.

Despite her request, Geralt's frown became more prominent. Only this time his eyes were not on her, but on something that had caught his attention over her shoulder. She looked at him with a strange look on her eyes, but before she could ask him what it was that was bothering him now, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she met the face of a curly-haired man that had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He was cute, she thought, so she offered him a smile.

He introduced himself as Arlan, not wasting a second before showing his true intentions as he made a subtle bow while kissing the back of her hand in a flirtatious manner. He mentioned something about her beauty - how he had noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors since she lit up the room with her smile or something like that - a corny line, but one that could have been effective were it not for the fact that her heart already belonged to someone else. The man invited her to dine with him in a very respectful manner, and a part of her was tempted to accept his offer. After all, she wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention. But before she could utter a sound, Geralt cleared his throat behind her back to make himself noticed.

"She can't, she's busy. Goodbye." He answered for her in a much more serious and intimidating tone than usual. He fixed his gaze on the man, looking at him with that intimidating look he gave when he wanted to make sure no one bothered him. His yellow eyes flared with anger, his brow furrowed in annoyance. It didn't take long before the man fled in fright, muttering something about rescheduling for another time with no real conviction in his voice.

"Geralt!" the young woman turned to deliver a punch on his shoulder. "That wasn't very nice of you! Why did you do that?"

"He was being annoying, so I made him leave."

"No he wasn't, he was being nice and polite." She crossed her arms, looking at the witcher with confusion. She had never seen him act like this before. Grumpy and bitter, sure, hundreds of times, but there was something different about the way he reacted. He had been too quick to dismiss the man, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was holding back the urge to separate his head from his neck. It made no sense, the poor guy was just flirting with her, no reason to spark such a reaction from Geralt.

Unless...

"Is that jealousy I detect in those intimidating yellow eyes?" She laughed and Geralt let out a snort. "Are you jealous? Were you afraid I was going to leave you for him?" She was partially joking, taking the opportunity to tease him and see if she could get a smile out of him, but she couldn't deny that the mere possibility of that being true made her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"I'm not jealous, I'm protecting you from a bastard that wants nothing more than to defile your honor."

"He didn't seem like a bastard to me."

"We were outside in the pouring rain, sunshine. You're soaking wet and your clothes stick to your body leaving nothing to the imagination. That's all he saw when you walked into the room, not your smile or whatever lie he told."

Geralt didn't want to sound mean, but the truth was that she could be very innocent at times. She was unaware of the effect she had on others, especially when it came to physical attraction. Geralt saw the way men looked at her and didn't like it one bit. But she didn't usually notice those details, which made him want to protect her even more.

She wanted to scold him, but he gave her no chance as he took her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to their room. The moment the door closed behind them, Geralt instructed her to take off her wet clothes before she got sick. She let out a giggle as she took off her wet cloak, telling him that he should at least invite her to eat before asking her to do something like that.

"I mean, at least Arlan was willing to do that." She joked and Geralt gave her an unamused look.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, and I just made a joke. Lighten up a bit! You know it won't kill you to smile, right?" The witcher replied by tossing her the bag with the extra clothes she had brought, giving her a last glance before starting to change himself.

The young princess's eyes admired his naked torso for longer than was appropriate. She was used to seeing him like this, but she could never get used to the tingling in her stomach when she noticed the way the muscles in his back and arms flexed when he moved. It left her completely stupid for a few seconds, mind malfunctioning as the images of his body occupied the full capacity of her thoughts. She noticed the water droplets sliding down his skin, traveling down his scars until they disappeared at the line of his pants. That gave her the urge to reach out to touch him, to trace those lines with her own fingers, but the sound of Geralt clearing his throat brought her out of her trance.

With her face burning with embarrassment, the young woman blurted out a quick comment about how well the last wound she had treated was healing. It was a stupid excuse and not at all believable, but it was better than admitting that she lost her mind every time he took off his shirt. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew she was lying. But she didn't give him time to react, grabbing her clothes and disappearing for a much needed bath.

Geralt stood alone in the room, staring at the wood of the door with a small smile plastered on his face. She looked adorable when she was flustered and he was proud to be the reason behind it. It was a kind of vindication that put his jealousy to rest after having to endure the audacity of that man and her teasing in response. The unspoken thing they shared wasn't just in his head. She only had eyes for him, just as he only had eyes for her.

It was rather twisted of him to want her so much when he knew he couldn't –or rather, shouldn't— have her. Geralt knew that nothing good could come from him following his feelings. They were not meant to be together, they were far too different, with far too opposite lives. He would only end up hurting her either physically, putting her life at risk because of his profession, or emotionally, when reality would explode the fantasy bubble and force them to face it. He was not meant to settle down in one place and live a calm and happy life. Maybe at some point in the distant past he was, long before he went through the mutation process that had turned him into the witcher he was now. But he had accepted long ago that that life, the possibilities and paths he could have taken, had died the moment the mutations began to change his body. It made no sense to duel in the past, to fight against nature to force something that was impossible. It was a waste of time and energy.

Geralt had lived by that principle most of his life. However, when it came to her he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he decided to stay, if he left everything behind to follow his heart. Intoxicated by the scent of her hair and enraptured by the sound of her laughter it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that they had a future together, that their relationship could be more than fleeting visits and late night escapes to avoid facing the reality of the mornings. He would have to be extra careful on this trip, control his emotions so as not to give in to the fantasy.

By the time she returned, Geralt was waiting for her with a tray of food resting on the small table in the center of the room. There were two plates of steaming stew, some bread, and two jars of ale. She smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth spreading through her body from her stomach as she approached Geralt.

"What is this?" She asked him, sitting down in the free chair to better inspect the food.

"I thought we'd be more comfortable eating here, away from all the noise and the people walking around." He explained as he brought the jar of beer to his mouth. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyes before letting out a chuckle. "What?"

"You really don't want me around that man, huh?" He looked at her, but didn't answer, though she didn't need him to know the answer to her question. "It's a shame because now we won't get to hear the stories about this place and the details about the job I found for you."

"What job?"

She smiled at his curiosity and proceeded to tell him what little she had managed to get out of the inn owner about the strange disappearances threatening the village. They discussed the details as they ate, debating whether there would be any veracity to the man's claims or if they were all bullshit. She felt proud of herself for having been the one to discover the problem, happy to be able to show Geralt that her presence was not completely useless.

She could get used to his life, be more than his healer. She needed some time to get used to his rhythms, but she could be useful. She could get used to anything to be by his side, to share more than a couple of days with him and then miss him for months. If this trip had proven anything, it was that no matter where they were, she would always feel at home if Geralt was by her side. He was her true home, the place where she belonged. She had been going mad looking for her purpose, her place in the world, when in reality she had already found it. It was to be by Geralt's side, to heal him and protect him from all evil. He was the piece she was missing, the only one capable of filling the emptiness that weighed her down. She wanted to be with him, she needed him to feel complete, and she was willing to do anything to show Geralt that a future together was possible, that she could adapt to live in his world.

Another disappearance occurred that same night while the town slept, but no one heard about it until the next morning, after the storm had passed. Geralt spent the day listening to the stories and opinions of anyone willing to speak on the subject, which, honestly, were more than he expected. Having his sweet princess by his side helped people open up to him. Normally he used to appear too intimidating, but with her by his side everything was easier. She was so kind and caring when talking to people that no one could refuse to answer her questions. Geralt found it comforting to know that he was not the only one unable to resist her charms.

They were talking to a waitress about the rumors she had heard when a woman entered the inn. She immediately caught Geralt's attention because she looked visibly distressed. Her voice was muffled and in her trembling hands she held a cloth handkerchief that she used to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Apparently she knew the owner of the inn because she asked to speak to him personally and burst into tears in his arms when the answer to her question was negative. Geralt gestured to the young princess and they approached them to find out if the woman's grief had anything to do with their little investigation.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" She said in a soft tone so as not to upset the poor woman even more.

"Her son is missing." The innkeeper explained to them as he tried to calm the woman's desperate crying with gentle caresses on her back. "He went out last night and never came back home. She's been asking around town and nobody has seen him."

"Is it possible that he got lost in the storm?" Geralt asked and the man shook his head, assuring him that the young man was a skilled traveler and tracker who knew the town like the back of his hand.

"It was her! I told him it wasn't wise to go out... let someone else take care of her... but he didn't listen." The woman spoke between sobs emerging from the innkeeper's arms to wipe her tears with her handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, her? There was a woman?" The princess asked and the woman nodded her head. She then proceeded to tell them about her son's last moments.

Apparently he was sheltering their farm animals from the storm when he noticed a young woman standing in the rain. She had long, jet black hair that clung to her pale skin from the water. Her dress was dirty and had the edges of the skirt in shreds, as if she had been running through the forest and the fabric had been torn by branches and bushes. She looked lost and out of place, so the young man felt the need to help her. Her mother had objected to him inviting her to spend the night at their house, acting cautiously since rumors of the mysterious disappearances had only grown in recent months. So the young man told her that he would just make sure she was all right and accompany her to an inn for the night. She watched them disappear into the darkness from her kitchen window and that was the last contact she had with her son.

"I knew something was wrong." The woman sobbed. "She was just standing there in the rain, like she was waiting for someone to pass by and fall for her trap. I should have stopped him, I should have done more." The princess patted her shoulder in support, trying to do something to make the woman feel better —even though she knew nothing she could do or say would ease the pain of a mother worried about her child.

"You are a witcher, isn't there something that you can do?" The innkeeper asked and the woman looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was clear that she was so distressed that she had not been able to recognize the clear details that indicated that the big, strong man in front of her was not an ordinary human.

"I don't have much, but I can talk to my neighbors, the other people affected by this creature, everybody who believes it's a threat to the town and find a way to pay for your service... anything to find my boy and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Geralt named his price before the woman ran out of there to round up her neighbors, though he would have taken care of the problem even if they didn't pay him for his services. He then set out to walk through the town, visiting some of the places that had been mentioned by the locals in search of evidence, though he had a good idea what it was that was haunting the locals. The princess followed him closely, remaining surprisingly silent for a long time. She wanted to give him space to work, to let him concentrate and do whatever it was he needed to do to help the villagers. But after spending several minutes in silence, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, what do you think?" She eventually asked him as they walked down the road where most of the disappearances had occurred, just outside of town. "Any theories about what this thing is?"

"For what they describe, I'm almost certain it is a Bruxa." The witcher replied, leaning over the ground to inspect possible footprints. "And it has to have a refugee nearby."

"A Bruxa?" She repeated with a slight frown of confusion. She had never heard that term before. Truth be told, she had never heard of most of the creatures Geralt told her about. Her kingdom was small, quiet, they didn't usually have attacks from beasts of that nature. And if they did, her parents didn't tell her about it. In her kingdom magic and everything related to it were frowned upon, hence she had learned about her abilities from a servant girl who taught her in secret from everyone. From what she understood, magic ran in the family's blood —although it tended to skip generations—, but it had always brought trouble and misfortune, so it had been forbidden in the kingdom, leaving her completely alienated and unaware of the best stories and legends the continent had to offer.

"It's a type of vampire, very powerful, that usually takes the form of a dark haired young woman to lure people into its trap."

"So you know how to kill it? I mean, of course you know how to kill it, what am I saying!"

Geralt bit back a smile. "Silver does the trick, but we need to find it first."

He explained that they usually lived away from large conglomerations of people as a form of protection, but the fact that she always attacked on the same road made him think that she must be taking refuge nearby. So they wandered through the forest surrounding the road to the village, looking for any sign that might indicate the bruxa's whereabouts. But the creature was clever, it knew how to cover its tracks, so they spent most of the day walking around and only found a couple of drops of blood and drag marks that led them nowhere. Suddenly, the princess understood how she had managed to go unnoticed for so long. If she hadn't talked to the locals and listened to the sobs of that desperate mother, she wouldn't believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on there.

"I think we are not being smart about this." She broke the silence as her patience began to wear thin. "We are never going to find her like this."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired, partially intrigued by whatever it was she had in mind. It was interesting for him to work with her. Usually he did things alone, but her naive curiosity and sweet kindness provided a different look that changed his usual patterns.

"We know she's going to attack again, right? So we just have to make sure we are there next time to stop her."

"We can't predict who she will stack next."

"No, but we can lure her out of hiding... bring the food out here to her to tempt her and hopefully force her to make a mistake."

"So, you're saying we should use someone as bait?" Geralt looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised by her words, she didn't seem like the type of person who was willing to put others at risk for a greater good. Granted, he was going to be there the whole time and wouldn't let anything bad happen, but still, he couldn't believe that idea had come from the same young woman who had made him backtrack days of travel to help an injured animal find his family.

"Not someone. Me." She said almost casually, preparing to meet the witcher's firm refusal. He looked at her for a moment, thinking she was playing some kind of joke on him that he didn't find funny. But when he saw the determination in her eyes he had to intervene.

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous." His tone was serious as was his gaze, a way of letting her know that this time he would not give in.

"What other choice do we have? Wait for it to kill someone else? Wander aimlessly around the woods for eternity?" She tried to reason with him. They had been walking around there for hours without much success and, while this was not something she did often, she suspected that things would not improve even if they kept looking. The bruxa was smart and wasn't going to let herself be found easily. Waiting for her to attack again was not an option either. Geralt was just one man and there was too much ground to cover. And there was no way to predict who her next victim would be. If they wanted to end this quickly they would have to force her out of hiding.

"I'm not using you as bait, sunshine." Geralt growled.

"Well, we can't risk the lives of the people in town and you can't be the bait either because she will know what you are. I don't see any other option, Geralt."

"I'm not going to risk your life for this, forget it."

"My life would not be at risk, not with you there. I trust you, probably more than I should." She tried to joke to ease the tension in the air, but Geralt did not laugh. His eyes softened, however, touched by her faith in him. It warmed his heart to notice the admiration in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if she was sure he could handle anything. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him with her life, but he couldn't help thinking that part of her did it because she was too innocent and unaware of the real risks his profession entailed. That was the only way she could be volunteering for such a task.

"Sunshine..." Geralt's voice became softer, a subtle plea for her to reconsider her stance.

"I want to do it. I want to help you... I want to help the people in town." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out what she really wanted to say. More than anything else, she wanted to prove herself and show Geralt that his life was not incompatible with hers. Maybe she would need some training, but there was a place for her in Geralt's world. She knew it now and hoped she could prove it to him.

Geralt looked at her and once again knew he couldn't refuse her. He hated the way she was able to convince him of anything with a simple look. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and he would fall surrendered at her feet, willing to do anything she wanted.

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me that you'll listen to everything I say." the witcher sighed, defeated. "And I mean it this time. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Is that clear?" She nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. Several times in the past she had promised the same thing and failed to deliver. He needed to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, sunshine, there is no room for error in this."

The young princess then took one of Geralt's hands between her own. He was much larger than she was so that she had to use both of her hands in order to completely envelop one of his. She gave it a light squeeze and looking into his eyes as she said, "I promise to follow your every order this time."

It wasn't enough to loosen the knot that had formed in the witcher's stomach, but it was a start.

She lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed since she went to sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, so Geralt decided it would be best to get a good night's sleep. She had agreed with him, especially since she felt tired after the long walk through the forest they had taken. But the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep disappeared from her body. She still felt tired —the muscles in her legs complained from the exercise and her eyelids were heavy as if she hadn't blinked for hours—, yet she was unable to fall asleep. It was as if her own mind was refusing to rest, seeking to punish her for who knows what.

She was surprised that Geralt hadn't complained about her restlessness already. He was a light sleeper and usually the slightest movement would wake him up. Several times in the past she had earned grunts of annoyance and even forced hugs for her inability to sit still, but when she turned once more to look at him she noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing was relaxed. She could see half of his face thanks to the moonlight coming through the window, illuminating his features and making him look softer than usual. She always loved to watch him sleep. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to do so since she was always the one who fell asleep first. But on the rare occasions when he did fall asleep first, she loved to admire him in silence as he rested. There was something so special and intimate about it-the way his chest moved up and down with his soft breathing, how his features relaxed completely beneath the unruly strands of white hair that clung to his face-she simply couldn't take her eyes off him.

It usually brought her peace to see him sleeping so peacefully. She fought the heaviness of her eyelids as much as she could, wanting to take advantage of every second of those moments to admire his beauty in a way she couldn't when he was awake, but eventually sleep always got the better of her. Just looking at him being so comfortable and relaxed next to her was enough to silence any voice in her mind that deprived her of her sleep. So she turned her attention back to the man lying to her left in the hope that it would help her sleep as it always did. She ran her eyes over his face, admiring the way his eyelashes almost caressed his cheeks, tracing the shape of his nose and cheek bone. Down his defined jawline to his neck and then she became distracted by the scars that adorned his body. She had them memorized after healing his wounds for so long, to the point that she didn't need the moonlight to fully shine on his chest to locate them on his skin. Even in the dark she could visualize them in her mind.

Her eyes focused on the scar that adorned his collarbone. A long, thin line was all that remained of the deep cut she had had to heal. Her finger traced the textured skin as her mind was lost in the memories of that night. It wasn't the worst state he had been in when he had shown up at her door, but still his wounds were quite deep. She had first had to clean the blood that covered his chest in order to find them all.

She liked Geralt's scars. Not only were they a part of him that she couldn't picture him without, but they were also a physical representation of his history. He carried imprinted on his skin the moments they had shared together, an indelible sign that marked her passage through the witcher's life. And every time she saw them, she couldn't help but remember those moments.

“You can't sleep either, huh?” Geralt's hoarse voice took her by surprise, snapping her out of her thoughts. When she looked up she met the witcher's amber eyes watching her curiously. A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he noticed her embarrassment at being caught in that position. She removed her hand from his chest as if his skin was burning her fingers, feeling the blood from his body travel up to pool in her cheeks. Geralt had to restrain the urge to put her hand back where it was, already missing the gentle caress of her fingers on his skin.

"No." She replied in a small voice, refusing to look up to meet his face.

There were a few seconds of silence before Geralt spoke again. "Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"I don't know if scared would be exactly the word I would use, but certainly nervous. I guess, I don't really know what to expect and that makes me feel weird... but I want to do it, so you can't convince me otherwise." she hurried to say to make sure Geralt knew she was strong and determined.

The witcher sighed and there was another moment of silence before she worked up the courage to speak again, this time looking up to meet his eyes. "Are you? Scared, I mean."

“I suppose it worries me that you may get hurt in the fight.”

"Well, don't be. Everything will be fine, you are going to kill the bruxa and nothing bad will happen to me or the people in town." She tried to reassure him, giving him a small smile. Geralt appreciated the gesture, but wished things were that simple.

"It's not as simple as that." He sighed, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face so he could get a good look at her in the dim moonlight. "Things can escalate really quickly and go wrong... I'm not invincible, sunshine. It happened to me before and it cost the life of a princess too."

A sudden sadness came into Geralt's eyes. He was looking at her, but it was as if he was looking right through her as he got lost in thought. She wondered what kind of memories were flooding his mind. He never told her about that story and she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but regretted it at the last minute, choosing to comfort him rather than question him.

"I'm not completely useless, you know? Back at the castle they taught me to defend myself."

"Not from these creatures, sunshine." She could sense the concern in his voice. It warmed her heart to know that he cared so much about her. It almost made her want to give up, just to bring some peace to his troubled mind. But she couldn't, she had to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Reaching out, she let her fingers trace the line of his cheek bone. Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth of her caress. Then he rested his own hand on top of hers, trapping it in place so she couldn't pull it away. He needed that. He needed to feel her, her warmth, her affection, it helped him silence his thoughts.

"Would it help quiet your mind if you taught me some tricks to protect myself?" She asked him in a soft voice. "I'm a fast learner."

"Well, I suppose I could teach you about the signs. You have an aptitude for magic, so I'm certain that you will be able to conjure them."

Geralt slipped her hand from his cheek, but kept his hand on hers at all times as he briefly explained what the signs were and the uses they had. She listened carefully to every word, admiring the way his lips moved as he spoke. She loved when he told her stories of his adventures or explained details about his world, not only because she found his deep, monotone voice incredibly soothing, but also because it made her feel closer to him.

"I think the best ones to teach you right now are Aard and Quen. They are probably the most useful ones for protecting you from this particular creature." He explained, raising the young woman's hand in the air. "The form and position of your hand is very important when casting a sign. For Aard you have to have your fingers like this."

He pressed his palm against the back of her hand, positioning his fingers over hers. Slowly he bent her middle finger downward, leaving the other four aligned upward. The young woman couldn't help but notice the way Geralt's hand completely covered hers, making her feel smaller than normal next to him. The warmth of his skin felt good, comforting, it made her wish he would never move his hand away from her. She would live holding his hand if that were humanly possible. There was something about feeling his skin against hers that awakened a comforting warmth that spread throughout her entire body. It made her feel comfortable, at peace.

When she looked up, she found that Geralt's eyes were fixed on her face. The blood rushed to her cheeks once again, somehow feeling vulnerable under his watchful gaze. But she detected in them a special glow that let her know he felt the same peace in having their hands intertwined. And that put a small smile on her lips.

"This sign channels the energy of the air, so when you cast it you should focus on that... feel the air around you, how it flows, the way it makes the tree tops shake and your hair dance around you..." Geralt's voice gradually faded to a hoarse whisper. Instinctively he moved a little closer to her, their faces mere inches apart as he lost himself in images of her walking through the forest with a smile as her hair danced in the wind. His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the urge to kiss her. They looked so soft and inviting, so appetizing, as if they had been created just for him to kiss. But before he could act on his urges, her voice snapped him out of his trance, bringing him suddenly back to reality.

"What's the next one like?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was as if she felt sorry for ruining the moment, as if she felt compelled by the tension in the air to say something, but she really didn't want him to hear her.

Geralt cleared his throat before replying. "Quen is a protective sign, it can create a protective shield around you so I'd suggest you learn this one well. To cast it you need to bend your pinky finger, like this." He changed the position of his hand along with hers, helping her with his finger to bend her pinky.

"Can I try?" She sat on the bed to make herself more comfortable and Geralt followed. He placed his hand back on hers and guided her through the summoning process.

"Focus on your surroundings." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

Concentrating was harder than it seemed when she could feel the heat his body emanated and every breath he took. It collided against the sensitive skin of her neck, making the baby hairs on the back of her head stand up. Geralt had to know the effect his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure the entire inn could hear the way her heart was pounding rapidly, crashing violently against her chest. He knew and he was doing it on purpose, she was convinced of that.

"Close your eyes and visualize a shield of energy around you." He continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She listened to him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was almost impossible. Especially when she could feel Geralt's lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Then she felt a spark, a current of energy shooting from the joining of their hands. She flinched and opened her eyes, taking a moment to admire their hands before looking at Geralt to see if he had felt the same thing she had.

"You almost got it." He encouraged her. "Focus, sunshine, come on."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders before trying the conjuring again. This time she didn't seek to push the feelings that Geralt's proximity aroused in her. On the contrary, she used them. He was the only thing that mattered to her in that room, the only thing that existed besides her. He was her world, so why not concentrate on him? She let the warmth of his body envelop her, let the scent of leather and wet dirt that was characteristic of him assault her nostrils. She concentrated on the harmonious depth of his voice, letting the baritone sound travel through her ears and through her body.

She felt the spark once again, only it was much stronger this time. Her hand tingled and then she felt a rush of warmth shoot out of her. When she opened her eyes she found a layer of translucent white energy enveloping her and Geralt. It lasted only a few seconds because she broke her concentration, feeling incredibly proud of herself for successfully summoning the signal on her second attempt. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but ever since she was a child she had grown accustomed to hearing that she was clumsy and useless and couldn't do anything right, so she had gotten into the habit of celebrating even her smallest accomplishments.

"I did it!" The princess exclaimed with a smile, throwing herself into Geralt's arms. Her embrace took him by surprise, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of her body for a moment, enjoying the floral scent of her hair as he tried to burn every detail of that moment into his memory.

"Give me a couple of training sessions and I could take your job." She joked, exaggerating her merit, and earning a small smile from Geralt.

The plan was simple. The princess would pose as a lost traveler looking for directions in the hopes that her apparent vulnerability would force the bruxa to come out of hiding. Geralt would be following her closely, hiding among the trees and bushes so as not to draw attention to himself. Once the fight broke out, she was under strict orders to run to Roach and take cover in a safe area where he had marked the Yrden sign on a tree. If they were lucky he would manage to draw the creature's attention to him long enough for her to escape. He doubted it would follow her after that, the bruxa seemed to be too clever to risk entering an area protected by Yrden just to catch a girl.

Even though the creature usually preferred to hunt men —probably because they were easier to trick—, it didn't take long for it to appear on the trail just where the villagers said it would. It happened in the blink of an eye, and without much sign of its presence other than the sound of branches and leaves rustling near them. The princess was on edge, hyper-aware of every little noise she heard and every movement her eyes could see in the dim moonlight. She jumped in place when she heard the sound of a branch snapping, and turned to look for the source of the sound. She scanned the darkness with her eyes as best she could, but found nothing suspicious, so she returned her gaze to the front.

That's when she saw her.

She was tall and slender, with skin that looked like porcelain. Her long black hair hid her face, though she could feel her intense gaze locked on her. She was standing in front of her, separated by just a couple of inches, and the princess had no idea where she had come from.

She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal level as she spoke explaining her situation to it, hoping it wouldn't be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart or detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last thing she wanted was for the bruxa to discover the trap because of her poor acting skills.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened to you." The creature said with faked empathy, taking the princess by the hand. She thought about pulling free from its grip, but decided against it at the last moment, thinking it would be too obvious. Geralt was close by and she trusted him completely. "The village is far, you are not going to get there by foot until tomorrow morning."

The bruxa was lying. Her favorite place to hunt wasn't that far from the village and while it might be annoying to walk the distance, it was probably a two hour walk at most. The princess wondered how many poor travelers would have fallen into that trap, believing her words without knowing that in reality salvation was much closer.

"You look tired." The bruxa affirmed and to the princess's surprise, she began to feel the weight on her eyelids and tired body. "I have a place nearby, you can spend the night there and tomorrow you can continue your travel. There's food and a warm bed for you to sleep in."

She was neither tired nor hungry, but the black-haired woman's words sounded tempting. She almost had to fight the urge to accept her proposal, even though she knew that nothing but death awaited her there. The creature was probably using its charms on her, enchanting her into agreeing to go with it without making a scene and attracting the attention of the villagers. She knew it and yet she couldn't resist. If it wasn't for Geralt appearing at that precise moment, she didn't know what would have become of her.

"Run!" was all the witcher said to her as he separated her from the bruxa. His eyes were completely black and his skin was much paler than usual. She had seen him fight before, but never while in his full witcher form. It caught her off guard but she managed to pull herself together quickly enough to get away from the area before the fight really started.

She heard the echoes of the bruxa's screams as she ran. They were deafening and she honestly couldn't believe how Geralt managed to endure them at such close proximity. She had to make the effort not to look back, knowing that if she saw what was happening she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to go over and help him. When she reached Roach she noticed the mare was upset, neighing and whinnying as if she could feel the tension in the air and the fear the princess felt.

"Shh, shh, it's fine! Everything is going to be okay." She tried to calm her down, stroking her soft fur as she watched the fight unfold a few feet away. "Geralt has it under control."

Every word of encouragement she blurted out for Roach, was a word of encouragement for her as well. She knew that Geralt was a very experienced witcher who had probably fought and killed many beasts equally or more dangerous than that bruxa even before she was born, but she couldn't help but worry for his life as she watched the battle. The creature was fast and precise with its attacks, using its scream to stun Geralt whenever it was at a disadvantage. He was able to hurt her a couple of times, but it was nothing lethal so he only managed to infuriate her. And even though she was bleeding even more than he was, that didn't make it any easier to see him get thrown into the air by the bruxa's deafening scream.

In the midst of the battle, the bruxa tried to flee. It changed its human form, transforming into something that the princess could only describe as a bat, only much larger and more horrifying. It spread its long wings and lifted off, escaping from Geralt's clutches just in time. But it didn't disappear for long, as a few seconds later it flew towards him once again, swooping down like a bird determined to catch its prey. Geralt braced himself for the attack and almost succeeded in striking it in the torso with the silver sword. But at the last moment the creature flew up, circled in the air and descended again on the witcher. Only this time it used its scream to launch him a couple of feet away.

Geralt's sword fell to the ground away from his hand at the same time as his head hit a rock. The princess held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes, unconsciously taking a few steps to get closer to him. He was moving, so at least she knew he wasn't dead, but he looked really dazed. The bruxa was flying high circling him like a crow, preparing to attack.

"Come on, Geralt, come on!" She muttered in the darkness, taking a couple more steps. Her eyes went from him to the bruxa, watching its movements, and back to him. He was beginning to regain his abilities, but unfortunately the bruxa had decided it was time to finish him off. Even though Geralt was getting back up, there was no way he could get to his sword in time, and she didn't see anything else he could use to defend himself. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She ran at him, breaking the one rule Geralt had imposed on her.

She knew it was stupid and risky, but the adrenaline in her veins and the fear of losing Geralt clouded her thinking. She ran to him ready to assist him because she refused to stand still a second longer, watching helplessly as that creature finished him off. It was reckless and dangerous as hell, but what else could she do when the man she loved was in mortal danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to him that night because she did nothing to help him.

She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now that they were so close to starting to think about a future together. So she ran as fast as she could, reaching the center of the battle before the bruxa managed to get her claws on her beloved. She then cast an Aard signal, Geralt's words echoing in her mind as a wave of energy was expelled from her hand. She managed to knock the bruxa down a couple of feet away, probably because it wasn't expecting her to join the fight. However, the victory didn't last long as the creature got up and rose into the air, only this time she was its target.

She could hear Geralt's voice shouting her name in the distance, urging her to run for cover, but seeing the speed of the bruxa's flight she knew she wouldn't get very far if she tried to run. So she planted herself in place and cast the Quen signal, creating a protective field around her that she hoped would hold until Geralt could reach her. She struggled to maintain her concentration, pushing aside her fear of facing this beast. But even her best effort could not stand against the bruxa's powerful scream. The moment she opened her mouth, the young woman's shield shattered and she was thrown into the air.

She felt the way her body cut through the wind as she flew. The world around her became a blur as she moved at a speed unnatural for a human being. And then her body hit a tree and she fell to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her head that left her dazed and disoriented. She could hear Geralt's voice calling her name, but it sounded far away. She tried to get up, but her surroundings began to spin as soon as she moved. She felt a warm, sticky liquid coating her hair, but she didn't have the mental capacity to recognize that it was blood gushing from a wound on her head. She was too disoriented to recognize her own surroundings.

In the midst of the confusion, she was able to feel the bruxa's claws digging into her shoulders. As blurry as her vision was, she could make out the beast's face hanging over hers. She thought that this was going to be the end of her, that horrible image being the last thing she would see before she died. She thought of all the things she regretted, of all the experiences she had missed. And she thought of Geralt too. She thought about how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she hadn't been up front with him about how she felt. Maybe things could have been different if she had told him how much she loved him, but now it was too late.

The bruxa brought her face closer to her and the princess closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. But instead of feeling her teeth clinging to his neck, she heard it let out a pained whimper. Suddenly, she stopped feeling the weight of its body on hers or the sharpness of its claws on her shoulders. And when she opened her eyes she was met with Geralt's face, who was kneeling beside her.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her cheeks and heard the distant, muffled sound of his voice calling her name and asking her to stay with him. She tried to answer him, but her dazed mind was unable to utter coherent words. She felt cold and tired, the urge to close her eyes growing stronger with each passing second.

"Geralt..." was all she was able to utter before everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again it was already morning, she could tell by the sunlight streaming through the window. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Her head was throbbing and her vision was still a little blurry, although she didn't know if it was because of the sleep or her injuries. She tried to move, but regretted it almost immediately when she felt the muscles in her body twitch in pain. She let out a hoarse grunt in protest and felt the sound of someone approaching her. It was then that she realized she was back in her room at the inn and that the man next to her was Geralt.

"You're back." he murmured, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit, but I'll live." she answered with honesty, making an effort to sit up in bed. Geral helped her, reminding her to take it easy as he arranged the pillow to help support her back more comfortably. "What happened exactly?"

"What do you remember?"

She took a moment to think. She remembered being thrown into the air by the bruxa's scream. She remembered the hard impact of her body against a tree trunk and falling to the cold damp ground of the forest, but it was all a blur after that. She knew she had been scared, that she thought she would die and that one of her last thoughts had been Geralt, but she was missing a few key points that would help her connect it all into a coherent line of events.

"I remember being thrown around and hitting a tree, but not much after that." she finally said, skipping the part where she vividly remembered thinking about how much she loved him.

"That's because you hit your head," he explained. "You were bleeding a lot. I barely got to you before you passed out."

There was a hint of sadness and concern in his voice that made her feel bad for taking such a risk. She could almost feel the despair he had felt at that moment just by looking into his eyes. It made her want to apologize, though she regretted it at the last second. Why would she apologize to him? For risking her life? It was her life, so his opinion shouldn't matter. For hurting herself? It wasn't as if she had done it on purpose. Besides, she wasn't sorry for what she had done. He was in trouble and she stepped in to help him. Even if she had ended up with more serious injuries —or even died— she wouldn't have cared as long as she knew he was okay because of it. His safety was always her top priority, whether it was when he arrived at her front door injured, or when they were in the middle of a battlefield. Her purpose in life was to be by his side to take care of him, so she couldn't let him die at the hands of that bruxa.

"Thank you." She spoke after a long silence. She decided to thank him instead of apologizing, it was more honest to what she really felt and not what she thought she had to say based on the expression on Geralt's face. "I'm guessing you are the one who saved me, so thank you for saving my life."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to stay behind, out of harm's way."

His intention was not to scold her so quickly. She had barely regained consciousness and he was already complaining about her actions and lack of care. He had spent the entire night awake beside her, watching her sleep in the hopes of seeing her open her eyes again. He imagined that when she did, he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how terrified he had been of losing her and how happy he was to have her back. His intention was to take care of her and make her feel supported and loved. But for some reason seeing her in that weakened state had once again brought out in him that horrible terror he felt when he saw her approach the bruxa.

If the circumstances were different, or if she were someone else, he could probably tell her openly how proud he was of the way she had handled the situation. She had been able to cast the signs without any trouble and for her first time in a battle situation with such a creature, she had been very brave and had put up a good fight. In the future, with more training, he could come to see her as a good ally on the battlefield. The problem was that her life was too important to him to risk it that way. He was used to injuries and being tossed around by the monsters he fought. Hell, he had been created specifically to endure it! But she wasn't. She was a human, fragile and delicate, not made to withstand that kind of combat.

Geralt could not remember a time in his recent past when he had felt the fear that swept over him the moment he saw her challenge the bruxa. And when she fell to the ground after being thrown several feet into the air, he felt the world around him stop for a second, stomach dropping as he waited and prayed to the gods above that she wasn't dead. The pool of blood under her head, the way her eyes slowly closed after whispering his name, it had all been too much for him. Carrying her fainted and bloodied body in his arms back to the village not knowing if she would ever wake up again filled him with a terror he never wanted to feel again in his life.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her after getting no answer from her other than a guilty look, like that of a child caught by his parents doing something mischievous.

"You were in danger," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "She was going to hurt you."

"I had it under control!"

She let out a snort of disbelief. "It didn't look like it."

"It doesn't matter what it looked like, you were supposed to stay behind! You promised you were going to listen to me this time!" Geralt raised his voice, making the princess flinch. She hated it when people yelled, especially men. It brought back bad memories of the life she had left behind. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I wasn't thinking! Is that what you want to hear?" She raised the pitch of her voice to match his. "I saw you on the floor and that thing flying at you and I just acted. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay behind while the man I... care so much about got killed right in front of me." Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink to let them fall. She was determined not to show weakness at that moment, even though she was pretty sure Geralt could read the pain in her expression.

The witcher's cold yellow eyes softened slightly, recognizing in her the same terror he had felt. But the fact that he could understand what had been going through her head at that moment did not change the fact that her actions had been reckless and unacceptable. That was the problem with them, they cared so much about each other to the point that they would not hesitate to put their own lives at risk to save the other. If he didn't have the profession he had, maybe that wouldn't be an obstacle to their happiness. But the reality was that she could not be by his side, accompanying him in his life at all times, without being exposed to danger.

Being a witcher meant looking danger in the face, and while he found it sweet that she cared as much for his safety and well-being as he did for hers, traveling with her would only give her more opportunities to hurt herself in order to save him. Being with him put her at risk not only because of the potential dangers they might encounter along the way, but also because of the strength of the connection they shared. She loved him so much that she was willing to sacrifice her life to save his and if he agreed to take her with him on his travels he would be consciously putting her at risk. She was a stubborn and determined woman, so Geralt could be sure that her behavior would not change no matter how many times she told him otherwise. And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

"I don't think this is going to work." Geralt said, standing up from the bed. "This was a mistake, I never should have taken you with me."

Oh.

She hadn't expected those words. She imagined he would be upset with her for disobeying him. She even expected him not to speak to her for the time it would take him to process the situation. But she didn't think he would ever regret her presence there. She thought she had done enough to prove her worth. Sure, things hadn't gone quite right, but she had proven that her skills —magical and non-magical— were of use to him. Perhaps she needed some more training, but she was very good at dealing with people and her vulnerable appearance made her the perfect bait for traps like the one they had set for the bruxa. She didn't expect Geralt to throw all that aside just because of a stupid wound.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked him, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she spoke.

"It means I'm taking you back home as soon as you are ready to travel." Geralt announced in a firm voice before leaving the room with a slam of the door. And just like that, she was left alone, staring at the wood as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She did not speak on the way back any more than was strictly necessary. She did not smile or comment on the beauty of the scenery around her. She didn't chat with Roach in the mornings or stop to play with or heal any of the animals along the way. She didn't even take the time to smell the flowers or listen to the birds sing. It was as if she was a completely different person. It reminded Geralt of how she was when he first met her, quiet, shy and frightened, always scared to say the wrong thing. Her usual sweet and cheerful glow was absent and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

He recognized that he had not treated the situation with the care he should have, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He should never have agreed to take her on one of his trips in the first place, so everything that had happened was his fault. He had been led astray by her charms, by the fantasy of believing that their lives were compatible. He wanted it to be true so badly that he had acted without thinking and as a result had hurt the woman he loved most. He had to fix his mistake and to do so he had to start by recognizing that his dreams were just that, dreams. A future together was not possible because he had not been made to settle down and start a family and she would always be in danger if she joined his travels. So, as much as it pained him, it was best for both of them to keep their lives separate and enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness they had when their paths crossed.

Her usual attitude returned to her when they arrived at her house and it was time to say goodbye. No matter how hurt she was, she couldn't bring herself to ignore Geralt knowing that this could be the last time she would see him for a long time. She gave him a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than it probably should have. But it was what they both needed, a moment to appreciate the comforting warmth of each other's bodies, to feel the spark of love they had for each other floating in the air after days of cold silence. They both needed to tell the other that everything they felt was still there in spite of everything. And both needed to recognize it in the other to know that all was not lost.

As they parted, the princess asked Geralt to be careful, just as she always did when she said her goodbyes to him. She then entered her home and sat in the chair near the door, starting the cycle of worry and uncertainty she found herself in whenever he was away from her home. Once again, her eyes were once again fixed on the dark wood, only this time her chest was heavy with the anguish of not knowing if she would ever see Geralt walk through that door again.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x fem reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #henry cavill x reader

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vesemirsexual · 8 months

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i always see people saying that Witchers would be accosted by bards and performers when they went anywhere near the college and listen. as a zoologist and ecologist, i need to let you know who the real hardcore fanboys would be

naturalists

those poor monster hunters would never know a moment of fucking peace the second they got close to that campus. oh you know about the in-depth behaviour, anatomy, ecology, locality of the magical beasties? oh you clear the particularly disruptive ones out of the ecosystem? my god it would never end. annual faculty meetings would be like “for the 5th time in a fucking row: no. we’re not budgeting for you to hire a witcher for field trips. i don’t care if you get eaten by something. i know damn well what the game plan is here.”

#also socially awkward loners who know a lot about a niche topic? i think I’m 50% in love with you now #katie txt

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inexplicifics · 8 months

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i’ve read sasha’s story a few times now and i’ve been trying to piece together why it’s so much more difficult for him than for anyone else so far so adjust to kaer morhen and the witcher way of life, and i think i’ve finally put my finger on it. i keep thinking about how different his reactions are to the girls’- when something new or shocking comes up, they all think “oh, this could never happen in tretogor!” and then the girls (+ jaskier) all think “well, i’m not in tretogor anymore, so who cares!” several of them have had thoughts along the lines of “when in rome nilfgaard” and simply squared their shoulders and accepted this new norm. it didn’t click at first why sasha couldn’t do the same, until i realized that the women have all spent their whole lives bound by strict modes of control by virtue of being women in a heavily misogynistic society. none of them asked for or consented to those chains, but they were forced to wear them, so being suddenly allowed to cast them off must be exhilarating. it must feel wonderful, like a weight lifted, to finally be allowed to determine their own behavior. sasha, on the other hand, has always been expected to determine his own behavior (which is a form of control in itself). he, as a man, gets to make all his own choices, but is also judged accordingly, so he’s forced himself into modes of behavior that leave him totally above reproach. if milena were to act improperly at court (or, say, run off with a witcher whoops) it reflects badly on her, sure, but more than that it reflects badly on her father, because he is the man who is meant to have control of her. if sasha acts poorly, as his grandfather did, the repercussions are his alone, which must be scary and exhausting. he hasn’t been chomping at the bit to make his own decisions like the women have, he’s been dragged down by the weight of having to make his own decisions. no wonder it’s harder for him to adjust- he isn’t just casting off an unwanted burden, he has to reshape the entire way he interacts with the world. poor boy. i’m so proud of him

Yes! Sasha gets to deal with Toxic Masculinity on top of everything else, and also he gets no notice or really any choice about coming to Kaer Morhen.

I think he ends up coping pretty well, poor lad.

I'm glad you liked the fic!

#questions answered #accidental warlord au #aleksander of velen

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fandom-junk-drawer · 10 months

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The Witcher Headcanon - Odd Jobs

Witchers make a living by walking the Path. Every Spring, Geralt travels back and forth across the Continent, offering his services in exchange for coin. Most of the jobs he takes involve getting rid of monsters, or bringing back the pieces of them that mages or healers need for their spells or potions. He's also done bodyguarding, bounty hunting, and even the odd job here and there.

Geralt had no idea that the job he was going to take was going to be one of those odd jobs.

He'd been approached by a boy of barely 8 years, begging him to help him get rid of a monster.

Great. A child. Geralt did not like dealing with children. They tended to scream a lot, and p*ss themselves. Or follow you around and talk incessantly, and they had no sense of personal space, like a certain someone he knew...

"Stop doing that with your face, you're scaring the poor boy!" Jaskier admonished Geralt, who was scowling. Geralt attempted to look a little more friendly.

"Well, now you just look like you licked a nekker's ar*ehole!"

"Hm!"

"Just go stand over there and let me handle this."

Geralt waited by Roach while Jaskier talked to the boy. He had probably been sent by his parents while they ran other errands. How inconvenient. But as long as the job paid well...

Jaskier returned moments later, his expression odd. "He said to follow him, and he will show us where he saw the monster."

Geralt frowned, "Jaskier, what the h*ll is going on?"

"He wants to hire you to get rid of a monster? I mean, I thought it was obvious, Geralt."

"I'm being hired by a child?"

"He said the pay was negotiable. We can always talk to his parents afterwards."

Geralt bristled, then 'hmm'ed and looked away, thinking. There were so many things about this that he didn't like. But what harm could it do to go and look? He could tell the boy wasn't lying, and was truly afraid. Geralt didn't want to leave things to chance.

They followed the boy on foot, having left Roach in town since they weren't going far, according to the boy. Geralt 'hm'ed in quiet disaproval as the small human led them off the road, cut through the grass and led them into the forest. Jaskier's eyes were sparkling with excitement when the boy paused and said "This is the way to our hideout. It's a secret, so you can't tell anyone about it!" He looked at Jaskier.

The bard quickly nodded, held up his left hand and used his right to cross his heart.

The boy looked at Geralt expectantly.

Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly.

Geralt 'hmmm'ed and crossed his heart.

The boy nodded, satisfied, and led them along a path that was little more than a deer track.

They crossed a small stony creek, turned right at a massive, rotting tree stump, and walked down an ancient sunken lane. Jaskier was frantically taking notes and making sketches in his notebook, babbling on excitedly with the boy about the holloway. Geralt knew he was probably already mentally composing an embelished song about a fae tree tunnel or something.

The path was short, and ended at the remains of an ancient stone wall. There was a large hole in it, large enough for a man to pass through. The boy clammered through the hole with practiced ease.

Geralt walked up to the crumbling wall and 'hm'ed' unhappily.

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure?" Jaskier asked as he ducked through the little tunnel.

"It seems to have b*ggered off somewhere with your common sense."

Jaskier's arm poked back through the hole on Geralt's side of the wall. His wrist did a complicated little twist, fingers doing a fluid little dance, and then, with a flourish, he extended his middle finger.

Geralt slapped the hand down and followed him through the wall.

On the other side was an impressive, if somewhat lopsided, and crooked structure that looked like a woodshed with inexpertly done additions. It was a slapped together conglomeration of stones, sticks, various tree parts, and scavenged bits of building materials from the town.

There was also a pack of children of various ages gathered a healthy distance away from the 'hideout''. They huddled tightly together when they saw Geralt approaching, cringing when his shadow fell over them.

Geralt looked down at them, at their frightened faces, and rumbled quietly, making his tone as soft as possible, "I'm here about the monster. Your friend hired me to get rid of it."

One of the children, a girl of about 6 years, inched forward and quavered, "It's a bogeyman! It came out of the corner by the fire pit and screamed at us! It chased us out and we haven't been able to go back in. Merik tried to go in yesterday, and it was still there! It screamed and came at him from the shadows."

"A bogeyman," Geralt said cocking an eyebrow. He looked at Jaskier, 'hmm'ed and said, "A bogeyman," in case Jaskier hadn't heard the first time.

Jaskier gave him a warning look before crouching down, "Can you describe it for him, love?" he asked the little girl. "So he knows what kind of bogeyman it is?"

The bogeyman was blurry, had big, black holes where it's eyes should be in it's deathly white face. It's body was made of inky shadows and wind. And it screamed like a banshee.

It didn't sound like any monster Geralt had ever seen. He decided to just go have a look for himself.

"Stay with the children." Geralt said to Jaskier as he marched off to the jumble of a house. He carefully cracked open the door and slipped inside. It was dark, but he could easily see what had frightened the children. It was up in the rafters in the corner, watching him.

Geralt rolled his eyes and, since no one was around to see him, smiled. Kids and their imaginations.

Jaskier was entertaining the children with one of those inappropriate songs about body parts and bodily functions that kids love so much, when crashing and screaming erupted from inside the house.

The children screamed and joined Jaskier in hiding behind a fallen log. There were thumps, bumps, scrapes, and thuds overlayed by Geralt's growls and shouted expletives.

Jaskier and the children gasped when Geralt came flying backwards out the door, crashed to the ground, jumped up, and charged back inside, roaring like a bull. There was more screaming, more sounds of struggling. The children were peeking over the edge of the log along with Jaskier, imagining the epic battle that was raging inside.

Geralt crashed through one of the windows on the side of the house, rolling and struggling with a black, shadowy thing that was flapping and flipping in his hands.

They disappeard behind the house as they struggled, and then reappeard, rolling on the ground. Geralt punched and kicked, and slashed at it with his silver sword. He gained his feet, grabbed the thing and started beating it on the ground, then pinned it in the dirt with his sword and cast Igni. The thing burst into flames, turning to ash.

Once the nightmare had been slain, the children had calmed down and came over to confirm that the bogeyman was really dead. Then it was time take care of business.

Jaskier watched as Geralt accepted the payment for his contract. He solemnly held out his hand, and the boy dumped a collection of items into it. There was an impressive amount of coppers, and an assortment of bits and bobs.

"You said the pay was negotiable. I'll take this as my payment," Geralt said, taking a cat's tooth out of the pile. He could give it to Yen for her spells. He handed the coins and other treasures back to the boy, then rose and nodded to them.

He was mentally thrown off balance when several of the children hugged him. He patted their heads awkwardly and assured them that their secret hideout's location was safe, then went on his way.

"So what was it?" Jaskier asked as they navigated their way back to the road.

"A barn owl. I cast Axii on it to keep it calm and wrapped it in an old cloak I found in the corner. I let it go when I went around the back of the house."

Jaskier laughed, "So you just stomped around, banged on some stuff, and made a bunch of noise to make it sound convincing. And let me guess, you used Aard to throw yourself through the door?"

Geralt: *Affirmative Hmm*

"Well, it was very believable, especially the part where you were struggling with the bogeyman outside. Very convincing. Have you ever thought of going into theater? You'd make a good actor."

"No. I have too much self respect."

"But you would look so good in hose! You have very nice legs, and such a lovely bott-!"

Geralt bumped Jaskier, causing him to step in a pile of fresh deer droppings.

"My boots! These were new, you jacka**!"

They made it back to town, Jaskier had fodder for his next song, and Geralt had a humorously odd story to tell that winter.

#the witcher #the witcher headcanon #the witcher netflix #twn #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #odd jobs headcanon

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simlit · 2 months

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Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // eighteen

| @maladi777 | @poisonedsimmer | @mangopysims

next / previous / beginning

COURTESANS: Bye, bye! Thanks for coming! ASTER: Even when I’m not paying, they get all my money… TALILA: You were robbed? ASTER: Robbed? Yes, let’s go with that. Anyways, I’m sure not up to snuff, perhaps milady will escort me back to my room? TALILA: No, no, I think you’re better off with a different sort of escort. ASTER: Eh? TALILA: Tada! ASTER: Pass. TALILA: Oh go on. I’ll see you both tomorrow! ASTER: Little devil… who taught her this? THERION: I have an idea. ASTER: Ugh, on second thought, I’m not that drunk. I’ll head back on my own. THERION: You’re still avoiding me, then? ASTER: I told you I— ASTER: sighs Oh, alright, fine. Let’s go. THERION: I admit, I didn’t expect you’d be so bothered. I always thought you were type not to get hung up on anything. ASTER: I’m not hung up. Look, I don’t like to let things get to me. But sometimes, things get to me. THERION: It’s just a game— ASTER: I’ve played those kinds of games before. Not willingly, and it was never my turn. It’s always the ones laughing who write the rules, and those on the receiving end of a poorly dealt hand, well, it’s not that fun. THERION: I just… ASTER: If you want to go around mucking people up in trials, I can’t tell you not to. THERION: I don’t want to upset you, Aster. ASTER: Why should you care? THERION: Well, you’re my friend. ASTER: Friend? That’s… interesting. THERION: At least, I thought we were. I guess maybe I was wrong. ASTER: I don’t know if you are. Honestly, I’ve never stayed long in anyone’s lives, and they’ve never stayed long in mine. I’m sure once we all leave here, we’ll go our separate ways. Are we “friends”? Maybe, for a time. While it’s convenient. I don’t know. I’ve never had one before. THERION: Never? ASTER: Are friends people you see from time to time? People you’re familiar with that probably wouldn’t bat an eye if they saw you in a spot of trouble? I’ve got people I’d drink with. Hells, maybe even people I’d lend a silverpence, if the timing was right. But beyond that, beats me. THERION: I would say… a friend is some you can rely on. Someone who wouldn’t go out of their way to hurt you, because even if they might not say so, they care about your happiness, and they want to see you well. Maybe your ideals don’t always align, but you enjoy each other’s company, and you’d hate to see them go. ASTER: Can’t imagine anyone feeling that way about me. THERION: Well, I do. ASTER: Hm. THERION: I’m sorry… about what happened during the trial. I… it’s not the first time I’ve gotten carried away. I could make excuses and say I’ve got a knack for following bad orders; It wouldn’t be the first time “playing along” with someone’s ideas got me in trouble. At the end of the day, I was the one who agreed. And I didn’t stop them. Though, this time… I should have drawn my line in the sand. ASTER: And the Witcher? You apologize to her? She’s the one you really hurt, after all. THERION: Eira seems to take things less personally. Though, that’s probably another can of worms entirely. I’ll still talk to her. Drive the point home. ASTER: Good. Probably best. THERION: I can still walk you back to your room, if you’d like. Might not have the same, uh, flare as the Nymph and probably won’t end as excitingly but… ASTER: Ah, might as well. You never know in this city, a poor bard alone and defenseless? My gods, there’s monsters out there!

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #cc: aster songleaf #cc: talila #cc: therion erandaer

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thenightling · 1 year

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Some people are disturbngly bothered by the Xena comparison and The Witcher

Some people are disturbingly bothered by the Xena comparison and The Witcher.

I was surprised at how many people seemed butt-hurt over the fact that I said The Witcher is like Gender inverted Xena: Warrior Princess. Even Honest Trailers noticed the comparison. And most of the arguments against the comparison seem to be from people unfamiliar with Xena or just old fashioned misogyny in disguise.

It’s okay to dislike Xena and it’s okay to prefer The Witcher but I would like those who are so upset at the comparison to do a little soul searching as to why the comparison bothers them so much. And also make sure they have actually watched Xena and not just the dated and homophobic parodies that floated around in the late 90s and early 2000s. You have a hero who wanders the countryside fighting monsters and occasionally evil humans and defending the monsters. The hero is clad in leather, very fond of their horse and is stalked / befriended by a cheerful bard who the hero reluctantly accepts and eventually gets very attached to.

1. I’ve seen the argument that The Witcher is mostly serious and only has humor some of the time. Annnnd? What did you think Xena was? A comedy? Yes, there’s humor in Xena and jokey things like Joxer’s theme song “Joxer the Mighty.” But there’s similar light moments in The Witcher, mostly with Jaskier.

2. I’ve seen the argument that The Witcher is a professional who accepts payment for his work. You know that scene where it appears The Witcher has died and the witness is recounting what happened to Jaskier in the tavern and Jaskier is writing it all down? And then Geralt shows up, covered in mud, but obviously alive and victorious? There is- word for word- the same exact scene with Gabrielle in a tavern in Xena: Warrior Princess, where a man believed Xena had died and Gabrielle knew she hadn’t. And he retold what he saw before Xena showed up at the tavern, alive and well. And much like Geralt, Xena does accept payment but also like Geralt she won’t take payment if the people are too poor and in need. 3. I’ve seen people point out that The Witcher is a distrusted outcast. Xena was a warlord and yes, a mercenary. She has a very bad reputation. And much like Geralt and Jaskier, Gabrielle writes down her heroic deeds to try to polish her reputation. And in case you didn’t realize it, Gabrielle, Xena’s traveling companion, is a bard who she reluctantly accepted as her sidekick, much like Geralt and Jaskier (who is also a bard and Geralt reluctantly accepted as his sidekick). 4. I’ve seen the argument that The Witcher has political allegories and intrigue. Xena was crucified by Julius Caesar, who was, at one point, her ally and lover. And toward the end the politics within the show got very convoluted and dark.

5. And finally The claim that Geralt doesn’t have an ambiguous relationship with Jaskier the Bard like Xena does with Gabrielle. The claim that Geralt and Jaskier are both straight. I refer you to Jaskier’s “Burn Butcher Burn” song from when Jaskier felt abandoned by Geralt. They end up reconciling later. “Did I not bring you some glee Mister, ‘Oh, look at me’ Now I'll burn all the memories of you... All those lonely miles that you ride, Now you'll walk with no one by your side. Did you ever even care With your swords and your stupid hair? Now watch me laugh as I burn all the memories of you. What for d'you yearn? It's the point of no return After everything we did, we saw You turned your back on me What for d'you yearn? Watch that butcher burn.” ________________________ Again, it’s okay to dislike Xena and it’s okay to prefer The Witcher but I would like those who are so upset at the comparison to do a little soul searching as to why the comparison bothers them so much. And also make sure they have actually watched Xena and not just the dated and homophobic parodies that floated around in the late 90s and early 2000s.

#Xena #Xena: Warrior Princess #The Witcher #Witcher #Jaskier #Geralt #Geralt of Rivia #Dandelion #Buttercup

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thewitcheress2389 · 2 years

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Hi! I hope I'm not bothering, I found your blog a little while ago and I have to say I love it!

but could I ask for a Geralt x reader with like three prompts ?

With prompt 300 and 289 and like 202 and like a story with where the reader is like kidnapped or is injured.

Thank you so much, and i'm sorry if theirs bad english, I am french so words and sentences can be weird.

Thank you! No, not a bother at all!💖

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Promises Made, Promises Kept

Geralt had promised to keep you safe, and he intends to keep that promise.

#202 "I don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it."

#289 “Be honest with me. Are you just humoring me? Do you treat me this way because you feel obligated to?”

#300 "Why do you sacrifice so much for me?"

You never intended for this to happen. After all, you felt like you knew well-enough how to defend yourself, even if you were the child of some poor farmer. You’ve learned that the wilderness was a dangerous place, and you’ve seen witchers come and go from your small village.

But when Geralt of Rivia stepped into town, you knew something was going to change your life.

The witcher seemed to bring danger and death with him, but he managed to save your life from those wraiths. Your parents weren’t so lucky, and you didn’t know why, but the witcher felt the need to take you along with him.

You didn’t have much room for argument.

Your companion was rather quiet, not having too much to say to you. He only ever seemed to care for his beloved mare, Roach. You began to have self-doubt about your worthiness to be traveling with the witcher. You weren’t able to defend yourself as well as he could and keeping up could be a challenge.

Were you beginning to become a bother to him?

He saved your life, but that certainly didn’t mean Geralt had to take you with him. You were beginning to grow more and more anxious each time he had to help you with something little. Now, you were just waiting for the day where he told you to beat it.

If only you knew the whole history of what actually happened.

A long while ago, Geralt visited your parents before. This was before you were even born, but your mother happened to be pregnant with you at the time. The witcher saved her, and ultimately you, from a botchling. From then on, he promised both himself and your parents that he would protect you.

They touched his heart, after all.

That’s why he kept you in his sights at all times and made sure you were safe. While it was hard for him to show, he did care deeply about you, probably more than the average witcher should.

He never expected for a creature to kidnap you under his watch...

You didn’t even remember being taken. All you could remember was Geralt having his back to you as he walked ahead and your world going black. However, you never remembered hitting the ground. Geralt would’ve heard that.

You opened your eyes to see you were in some kind of cottage, and it was very clean. Seriously, everything was organized and there didn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere. Moving around, you felt that your wrists were bound with rope, tying you to one of the beams supporting the house.

“Hello?” You hesitantly called out. That’s when you heard movement from what you assumed was the bedroom. Out and into the light stepped a creature that you’ve only ever seen pictures of. Half-goat, half-human, seemed to radiate beauty beyond worlds, strange markings on the body, and slitted demonic-looking eyes. It had to be a succubus.

However, this one appeared to look like a man.

“You seem a bit...flustered...” He said, eyeing you up and down. However, despite the obvious discomfort you portrayed, you met his eyes squarely. You’ve read enough in Geralt’s bestiary to know how these creatures behave. You weren’t about to let him dominant you.

“You’re a succubus.” You hissed at him, and he looked beyond offended.

“I think you’re mistaken, darling...I’m actually an incubus.” He said, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could you not realize that the succubus would have a male counterpart. He stalked towards you, his tail swishing slightly in obvious lust.

“I may be like a succubus...preying on men, women, the old, the young, and so forth...but I’m not as nice as they are...” He told you, moving until his handsome face was inches before your ear. His hot breath made you flush as it hit your skin, and you realized that if a succubus was strong, an incubus was probably a lot stronger.

You had no chance of escape.

“Let’s hear what you sound like...” He purred, moving to lick your ear a bit. You squirmed and felt yourself wanting to scream. But it’s too late, and the incubus began to feel you up like you were an object.

He was right. Incubi were not so gentle...

“...don’t make me fight you, witcher. You’ll regret it.”

After you started to get ravaged by that incubus, you soon blacked out. However, you woke up to see that he was gone from your battered body and was talking to someone else. Your heart jumped for joy when you recognized Geralt.

Who looked beyond pissed.

“I don’t care if Incubi are a dying breed...you’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Those were fighting words, and the once tidy living space wasn’t so tidy anymore. The incubus soon lay dead at Geralt’s feet, but he slashed at it a couple more times.

It made him feel better.

“Geralt...you came for me?” Your weak voice caught his attention, and the witcher softened upon seeing your bruise and battered body. He quickly moved to cut off the bindings and take you into his arms. As soon as he carried you outside, he rested you against the cottage wall as he went to Roach, retrieving some medical supplies and potions.

“Here. Drink this.” He said simply, handing you a bottle of a strange liquid. You hesitated a bit, but you ultimately trusted the witcher. So, you drank it and soon felt your strength returning.

Then, in typical Geralt fashion, he continued to put some salve on your bruises in silence. But soon, you felt the need to ask him something. It’s been on your mind for a while, but even more so after realizing you were kidnapped.

“Be honest with me. Are you just humoring me? Do you treat me this way because you feel obligated to?” You asked him, and Geralt froze. He was stone still as he addressed your words, slowly moving his hands away from you as he rested back on his knees.

“Y/N...that’s not what this is about...” He tried to say, avoiding your eyes. But you just leaned forward, forcing him to look at you.

“Then what’s this about? Because Geralt, if you feel like I’m a burden-” You were about to say more, but he cut you off.

“No!” He shouted, which frightened you a bit. You’ve never seen the witcher raise his voice like that before. However, he quickly composed himself, swallowing nervously and rubbing his hands on his pants.

“I made a promise to protect you...you never knew about it because I kept it to myself...I promised both your family and me that I would keep you safe...there’s something about you Y/N...something that makes my life more interesting.” The witcher said softly to you, barely being able to meet your eyes.

You were stunned by his answer. So, he promised your parents that he would protect you, but he also promised himself. Were you truly something special to him? All this time while you thought you were a burden to him, but in actuality, he was just looking out for you.

“Now I have a question for you...” Geralt began to say, causing you to look at him.

"Why do you sacrifice so much for me?" He asked you, looking confused. You also were confused. Sacrifice? What was he talking about?

“What do you mean? I don’t see myself sacrificing anything...if anything, I rely on you...” You told him gently. Geralt rolled his shoulders a bit, appearing uneasy.

“You could leave and have a life...get married, have a family...you can’t have that here with me...you might be safer, but I don’t know about happier...” He stated solemnly, some of his snow-white hair falling in his eyes.

Without thinking, you moved to brush it out of his face, startling him.

“I am happy...I feel safe...I was just worried that you weren’t happy...” You told him, causing him to look the tiniest bit flustered. He’s never had someone be concerned about his happiness before.

It made his heart flutter.

“So...you want to stay?” Geralt hoped he was reading you correctly. In truth, he didn’t want you to leave, even if it could be for a better life. The witcher has never had a companion that didn’t annoy him before.

He knew he would miss you.

“I mean...I can have a life on the Path...one with you...” You said shyly, making him swallow nervously. However, you saw his face twitch into a bit of a smile.

“A witcher has never had a comfortable life on the Path...” He said with a bit of a laugh. However, he thought it over before smiling more to himself. Then, he gave you one of his most caring looks that you’ve received thus far.

"I don't think either of us are qualified for this but sure, go for it." He said with a grin, and you found yourself smiling as well. It was like the entire tension that both of you must’ve been feeling finally disappeared.

The air was clear.

“Well then, let’s head out.” He said while offering you a hand. Your wounds have almost healed due to whatever vitality potion he gave you, so you were more than ready to travel.

“Thank you...I forgot to say that...” You told him with a smile. Even though you were more than stable enough to walk, you still held onto his arm that he offered you.

“You don’t have to thank me...promises made...promises kept...” Geralt told you, smiling to himself. You grinned to yourself, moving closer to him, making Geralt’s heart flutter again.

For the first time in a long time, he felt content.

#the witcher #witcher geralt #the witcher geralt #the witcher imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine

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t-tomuras · 8 months

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♔ ─── • 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Pairing: Witcher!Tomura Shigaraki x F!reader

Warnings: reader has long hair, blood, injuries and scarring (canon typical), intimate bathing, slight pussy job, nipple play, sex with minimal prep, creampie, slight praise, slight monsterfucking if ya squint

Wordcount: 5k

Notes: Reupload

It’s a blood-curdling scream that first draws his attention, groaning while staring into the flame he built to warm himself and his horse. He recognizes the cry, one of a wounded animal, one that’s still clinging desperately to life from what he can tell. Tomura tells himself to let it be, it’s the way of nature; eat or be eaten, kill or be killed. It’s natural, his place in the world is to save humans from monsters for coin; nothing more but certainly much less if humanity had a say.

But by the second cry he’s already closing in on the location, boots crunching in the snow as he searches for the poor soul if only to put it out of its misery. It’s suffering, he knows, but he reasons if predators haven’t silenced the cries themselves yet then he will bring it peace. Tomura tells himself his search is only to return quiet to the woods, save for the howling of the winds and crackle of his fire.

Witchers don’t have emotions, they walk a thin line from the monsters they hunt, at least according to the humans he was altered to protect. Foul and annoying creatures themselves if you ask him, but he gets paid and can feel something, a purpose possibly, in battle so he doesn’t press any issues he shouldn’t.

The third cry dies the second he stumbles upon you, in the form of a barn owl with feathers scattering the ground and the blood that oozes from you dyes the pristine snow crimson. One wing is tucked into you, the source of the thick outpour.

“Lechuza,” he knows by the scent, you’re not human but not a monster either. A witch, an outcast amongst most mages; especially those from the Brotherhood. Tomura steps closer, the motion causes the frantic flapping of your wings in an attempt to maintain distance, disturbing the snow. He snarls at the action, scarred lip curling into something akin to an insulted sneer, “you cried so loudly and for what?”

“Nothing from you, Witcher,” your voice laden with pain even when nothing is spoken aloud. Your thoughts are labored from the effort it’s taking to stay conscious as you fight the crash of adrenaline along with the wooziness of blood loss, “I won’t let you put me down like a dog—“ Butcher.

The word is never uttered but by the way your sentence hangs in the jarringly thick silence Tomura knows it burns your tongue. He’s used to it, the common insult (or simple descriptor depending on who you spoke to), all witchers are butchers regardless of how they protect the ones who scorn them. Monsters, fiends, hands for hire; Witchers' work watered down simply because they accept coin for protection, for mortals' salvation. They forget that Tomura and his kind are the only things that stand between them and massacre.

“An animal won’t be kind in how they put you down,” he breathes, the words materializing in the air between you both in the form of steam in contrast to the frigid temperature. “An animal can’t help you either. Your wound isn’t grave,” Tomura takes another step towards you, the crunch of snow narrating the movement as you flinch and falter pathetically away once more.

The entire exchange begins to agitate him, standing straight from the bent posture he’d taken in an attempt to pick you up. Crimson hues flash dangerously as his jaw clenches to subdue mounting exasperation, speaking with a hiss, “shift into your human form then. The desperation and stubbornness is annoying.”

“The dog for hire wants to lecture me?” Your wings flap indignantly, malice dripping in each thought projected toward the man, “you drink elixirs and lick your wounds in the company of harlots. Don’t speak to me about desperation.”

For whatever reason, that garners a reaction from him, a tick in his jaw as his arms fold over his broad chest. He crouches low to you, head tilted as ivory locks fall into his face, casting shadows to give him a haunting look bathed in pale moonlight, “If you don’t want help then don’t scream for it again.”

You don’t shrink away even with the unsettlingly even tone, straightening as much as you can with the wounds hindrance that sends throbbing pain through your body with the pose. “Did I strike a nerve, White Serpent of Kamino, because I won’t let you play knight?”

Tomura laughs at the comment, dry and humorless, “if you know who I am then you know I don’t play knight, I came to silence a nuisance squawking and disturbing the peace.” He stands then, giving you his back, settling to acquiesce to your vehement refusal of his assistance but not without a final word.

“There are leshy in these woods, by the way,” Tomura looks over his shoulder as he speaks, smirking as all your previous smugness visibly bleeds (literally and figuratively) from you. He almost sounds like he enjoys taunting you when he adds, “an opportunistic hunter will be the least of your problems then.”

He’s won, he knows it, when no retort is fired back. Tomura chuckles again, something softer than before but no less devoid of humor than the first as he leaves you to fester in your pity and rot with your discontent if monsters or wildlife don’t get you first.

Suddenly, the gnarly shadows of barren trees feel as if they grow longer and you’re keenly aware of sound as the crunch of snow underfoot becomes farther away.

“Witcher!” You call to him but he doesn’t stop, continuing in his stride, “Serpent, please!”

He pauses at your call, turning slowly as he rolls his eyes, shoulders sagged in his leather armor to showcase how bothersome this has become to him before he crosses his arms again. Tomura’s entire demeanor makes the swallowing of your pride leave an acrid taste on your tongue, stalling before you speak again.

“. . . I don’t want to die. . .” it’s soft, vulnerable, creating a pregnant silence that hangs in the air as you cast your gaze anywhere but the man before you. The quiet is deafening when you finally add, “don’t make me beg.”

Tomura sighs, unfolding his arms as he approaches you. The threat of death always humbled even the most adamant beings. Arrogant men sobbing and soiling themselves as they tremble with fear; scornful women offering salacious deeds so long as they’re spared, nary a soul an exception. it’s ingrained into one’s being, ever clawing for salvation.

He crouches when he’s near enough, suspending his arm out in the distance between you with his palm up as an offered perch for you to be carried. Tomura wears a smug, lopsided, smirk that quirks the corners of his lips; teeth showing as he waits for you to accept the help he’d forced you to all but beg for. You curse to yourself as you reluctantly wrap your talons around his thick forearm, fighting the urge to spitefully dig them into the flesh and draw blood as penance for the humiliation.

You hang your head, wobbling slightly when he rises to full height again. Pathetic, graceless, small and fragile. Everything you loathed and strived to never represent crashing down and crushing you under its weight as you’re carried by the infamous White Serpent with the promise of your life.

There is no conversation on the trek back to his campfire, placing you onto his horse before stamping out the dwindling flames and collecting some of the things he’d set out earlier. You’re shooed backwards to make space for himself, kicking his leg over to mount the beast.

“What are you doing?” You question after he pats his horse, Kurogiri he calls it, telling it with a tenderness that surprises you to get moving. Tomura flips open a leather satchel hanging off his horse and knocks you into it, earning an indignant squawk before you hurl obscenities at him.

“You reek of iron, you’ll attract too much attention in the woods,” he snaps the satchel clasp closed, effectively encasing you in the cramped parsel despite the struggle you put up.

Tomura rides the steed to the nearest town, tossing payment to the first inn he finds with a stable to shield his beast from the elements. You’re met with the warm illumination of oil lamps when the witcher finally flips open the flap of the leather satchel he’d confined you to. He reaches into the compartment when you make no move to climb out yourself, earning a nip to his hand from your sharp beak that makes him curse as he withdraws.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve saved myself plenty of trouble and done it in the woods,” he snarls, curling up the scar that decorates his lip, shaking his hand like that would rid him of the pain. “Transform or don’t, stubborn witch, but you’ll sleep out here with the horse instead of getting a warm bath and soft bed.”

You pause at that, tension flooding from your body at the mention of a warm bath and a comfortable place to sleep, peeking out of the satchel as Tomura gets hay for Kurogiri. With his back to you, you decide to finally shift into your human form, joints cracking grotesquely from the transformation.

It’d been so long since you’d last taken this appearance you’d forgotten you’d be in the buff, panicking suddenly when Tomura turns to you. You push at his face, covering your breasts with your free arm to keep him from seeing you in yet another vulnerable state.

“Annoying woman, what’s your problem now?” He growls, grabbing at your wrist that only makes you shove harder at his face.

“I need clothes, I won’t walk nude,” you say it with a pout he can’t see, bringing both arms to give you some modicum of modesty when Tomura steps back. You shrink a little as if to minimize yourself, scowling at his unamused scoff when he tosses the large fabric he usually covers his horse with at you to help you cover up. The stench of it is overwhelming but you sense your begrudging savior would be less than delighted to hear further complaint; and, unfortunately for you, beggars can’t be choosers.

Only semi-decent, you’re guided through the main entryway to the inn, the innkeeper eyeing you curiously as if he’d never seen a woman (regardless of their state of dress) before to the point you draw the fabric tighter around yourself. Tomura swings open the door to the room he’d purchased but doesn’t hold it long enough for you to enter, forcing a hurried half-step to make it before it shuts as you make an exasperated sound.

You take pause, looking around the room and consider it’s not at all shabby for how the exterior of the building looked. Glancing around the vicinity as you note your exits before appreciating its accommodations; it was large space, considerably, more than you were used to. There’s a window to look out into the town and plenty of lights with a small fireplace across from the bed. A decent sized tub sits tucked into the corner of the space, steam rolling off of the water's surface already.

The sound of clothes rustling and clasps being undone draws your attention, the witcher undresses. Instinctively, your eyes wander over the alabaster expanse that’s exposed to you, littered with indented flesh in the form of scars; discolored in different variations. Some still pinked and likely sensitive while others are faded with age.

Tomura turns suddenly as the light armor falls away, bored ruby irises seemingly sparkling from the warm yellow illumination of the candles around, a smirk playing at his lips to add to his mirth when you quickly avert your gaze.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he comments, stepping out of the garments now pooling at his feet before submerging himself in the steaming water.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Witcher,” you scoff indignantly, bunching the fabric in your fist as Tomura eyes roam freely over your body in turn, “I took notice of your scars and nothing more.”

He nods sarcastically, lips pursed a fraction before splitting from a relieved sigh, arms spreading along the rim of the tub leisurely, “Tell yourself that, not many have looked at my scars as long as you though.”

Tomura chuckles to himself at the scowl you give him, sinking lower into the tub while he stares at you. His gaze is unwavering, enough to make your cheeks heat from the intensity as a bout of shyness you don’t typically have gnaws at you.

“Are you going to stand and wait until the water gets cold or do you particularly like the smell of horse and blood?”

“This is your cover,” you snipe incredulously at him, as if you had any choice in that matter. He rolls his eyes at you, gesturing to the amount of space in the tub as an invitation to join him. You’d really rather not, but the stench was overwhelming and you’d like nothing more than to be enveloped in the relaxing waters as you scrubbed yourself clean. You drop the cover, though you bring an arm to cover your chest again when it falls.

“Those are nothing I haven’t seen before,” Tomura quips again, eyes trained where your arm covers you.

Stepping into the waters quickly, you sink until the water crests below your collarbone, giving an annoyed pout to Tomura that receives a ghosting, amused smile in return. He reaches for you once, earning a hasty smack to the back of his hand and the sloshing of water as you move away from him.

“Don’t be so difficult, return the favor when I’m done,” he says with a roll of his eyes at your continued wariness, but when he reaches for you the second time you don’t swat him away. He pulls you closer, settling you to face him while he lathers soap into a nearby cloth.

Tomura is quiet for a moment, swiping the abrasive fabric against your shoulders and clavicles, noting the tender skin of telltale webbed scarring painted across them. It’s when he wrings out the rag that the question on his tongue is finally asked, “where did you get burns like these.”

“Not all creatures with Chaos are protected by the Brotherhood, and not all common folk are welcoming and kind.” He understands, more than anyone, the ire and scorn directed at oneself for simply existing.

The sound of water dripping from the rag and the soft splashing as he rinses it out calms you. Tomura is surprisingly delicate considering his nature, he dabs gingerly at the wound that splits from the top of your shoulder into your armpit. You’re almost certain he flinches slightly when you hiss and recoil slightly at the contact but you make no comment about it.

“Turn,” he commands after a moment and you oblige, turning your back to him and for some reason it feels surprisingly. . .safe; even in your state of undress with the witcher. You bring your hair over your shoulder, out of Tomura’s way while the scratchiness of the cloth wipes away the grime you’d accumulated from the day. You hunch forward the lower he ventures, body arching almost into a C shape with eyes hooded in relaxation. It’s easy to become lost in the feeling, lulled by the comfortable warmth and the steam that clears your senses paired with gentle touches.

You’re adjusted once more as his arm encircles you to wash your front beneath the water. You can feel yourself coming into contact with more of his skin as he does, back to chest as he swipes the rag with an open palm over your stomach. A sigh escapes you, head lulling back against his shoulder; you can feel his breath come in hot, even puffs against the shell of your ear.

It’s blissful, intoxicating even, but Tomura breaks the spell only to cast a new one when he brushes against the underside of your breast, husking into your ear, “Now do me.”

You swear the heat that burns your cheeks and warms your blood is from the temperature of the bath and nothing more. Water sloshing with your movements as you turn in his grasp, finding his expressive eyes darkened into a deep garnet in the low light; they’re hooded as well, accentuated with a slight pull to his lips as something akin to a lazy smile. He seems almost normal like this, not someone to be feared with a title known across many lands.

You don’t realize you’re staring until the smirk grows, cleaning your throat as you take the cloth he washed you with, wringing it out before lathering it up again. Free hand resting on one of his pectorals while the other scrubs gingerly over his shoulders, sliding down to his collarbone and across his broad chest. His body tells the tales of his life, deep grooves of scar tissue and small ones littering around them like morbid constellations. You won’t meet his gaze but you can feel how intently he watches you, like a predator that hasn’t decided on what to do with its catch quite yet. You feel every contour of his torso, from jumping muscles in his forearms and biceps to rigid planes of his abdomen; you’re meticulous in the details of Tomura’s body.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, his voice honeyed and low, dripping with temptation and confidence.

“If I hadn’t watched you leave your horse in the stables I would think it was here by smell alone,” you wash at his neck, tilting his head back while the pads of your fingers rub the cloth under his jawline. Tomura’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his body sinking lower still into the tub and guiding you closer to him by the small of your back. You feel every hard ridge of his body against yours, soft breasts pressed to the solid muscle of his own chest. Your hands are pinned between the both of you, resting on either side of his neck when Tomura hooks his index finger and thumb beneath your chin, forcing you to focus on his face. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart between his pupils and lips for a half second.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” I can hear how it races, he leaves it unsaid but you know that’s what he means. The thumb that holds your chin reaches up, calloused pad pressing on the plump of your lower lip and pulling it down to form an exaggerated pout. His eyes linger, as does his thumb and Tomura can’t help but allow his tongue to peek out and wet his dry lips while he contemplates every lewd thought that crosses his mind.

Your chest rises and falls, pressed firmly against his own until both your breathing slowly syncs and it begins to feel like you’re in a bubble. He holds you, gaze roaming over your features only to fall back to the thumb still resting against your lower lip.

Slowly, he pushes the digit into your mouth, lips enveloping him in the form of a pretty ‘o’ and doe eyes that cause Tomura’s eyes to sparkle with something dangerous; something primal and hungry. He presses down on your tongue, eye contact never wavering as he does so. Your lids flutter shut, barely hollowing your cheeks as you suckle the digit and feel his cock twitch against your inner thigh as it hardens; Tomura’s breath hitching before he can stop himself. Your lids open in surprise at the sound, searching his features for where this goes next; drumming your fingers where they rest and humming as he pulls himself from your lips with a light pop. Tomura swipes the slicked digit against the skin of your lower lip, giving it a pretty sheen in the flickering light the flames provided and you look vexing with the hooded gaze and slight pout from his withdrawal.

“Dangerous,” he whispers before tilting his head, leaning closer but stopping a hair’s breadth short of connecting. He’s so close you can almost feel his lips brushing yours as a smug smile pulls at the corners.

He wants you to beg, you’re certain, but the most you’ll afford him is a frustrated sound from his teasing before opting simply to close the minuscule gap between you. It seemed like so long ago when the entirety of your interaction were words laced with venom, how you recoiled from his contact and now you yearn so desperately for it; desire coursing through your veins each time his tip prod near the apex of your thighs.

Tomura presses your closer, palms pushing onto the small of your back as your arms slide up to loop around his neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, swallowing your mewl instantly when you grant him access. He groans in turn at the taste of you, tongue sliding against your own as his hands slip lower to paw at the fat of your ass, gripping tightly enough to elicit another moan for him to drink in. Water splashes violently, threatening to spill over when he repeats the action and your slit slides along his stiff cock, Tomura choking on something between a gasp and groan at the contact before canting his hips to repeatedly glide between your folds with each rut.

You jolt into him with each kiss to your clit from his cockhead, relishing the feeling of his girth teasing your slit, fingers threading into the mop of his hair to cradle where his neck and skull meet. It becomes a desperate grind of your hips and licking wherever your tongues can reach to taste everything the other has to offer. Tomuras hands slide from your ass, over your hips, then back down to grip the middle of your thighs, squeezing insistently as signal for you to wrap your legs over his hips.

The head of his cock bumps your clit again, sending a jolt of pleasure that causes your hips to jerk forward, causing his tip to catch at your sopping entrance and elicit a pitchy keen as he stands to exit the bathtub. Supporting your weight with a firm grasp on the undersides of your thighs, he never halts in his conquest of getting a taste of you, nipping at your lower lip before dropping you onto the bed and crawling after you when you scoot to the center.

You welcome him back with open arms, lips meeting in a desperate kiss once more while he slots comfortably between your spread legs. His hips jerk into you every so often, cunt gathering slick with each drag of his length through your folds; airy gasps escaping you when the fat tip of his cock teases at your fluttering hole. You feel needy, on fire for a man you resented hours ago, now begging him for whatever he’ll give you, ready to greedily take what Tomura has to offer.

“Fuck, I just—” he starts, groaning into your mouth while his rolls your hips into his own. He switches your positions with ease, flipping onto his back to have you straddle him with his large palms resting on natural waist. His thumbs dig into your skin, not so aggressively it hurts but enough to let you know he’s fighting an overarchingly carnal desire and exercising restraint to not sink you onto him all at once and lose himself in the throngs of pleasure.

No, as appealing as it is, he wants to savor this encounter; feel the pulsing euphoria in a slow build like a man instead of frenzied like a beast. Tomura ruts upward, simultaneously moving your hips to slide against him until you take the hint and roll your hips in a way he can’t do for you. His head lolls back when you find your rhythm, arching his back with a drawn out curse, “Just like that. Feel so good and m’not even inside yet.”

The vulgar praise warms your blood further, stokes the flames of desire within your core. You feel like you could climax just like this, feel the telltale tightening in your abdomen the more Tomura pushes you down onto him and gives friction to the sensitive nub. It drives you mad, the sensation of being on the fringes of your climax but needing just a bit more. You need more, you know he’ll give it to you but only if you take it for yourself or beg; choosing the latter with a frustrated whine caught in your throat as you straighten your spine until you’re fully upright, reaching below you where your sexes slide together to gingerly grip his shaft.

“Need more, can’t wait anymore,” Tomura gives you a devilish smirk, nodding at you when you align his cock with your weeping hole, both of you hissing at the stretch of only his tip.

“Lemme’” he starts, sliding his hands to your hips to aid you as he splits you wide. Tomura goes slowly, eyes rolling back into his skull and his lips parting with a hushed sigh as you take him inch by delicious inch until he’s buried completely to the hilt. He stills once he’s bottomed out, giving you time to adjust to his size after having no real prep beforehand. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your puffy nub and stroking it as he waits but with each twitch of your hips and convulsion of your cunt around his cock, his patience wanes.

“Move, please, I’m ready,” and he obliges, eagerly, starting slowly to set a comfortable pace for you until you’re pleading for more, urging him to go faster. Rising higher off his length before slamming back down until Tomura matches the fervor, palming the back of your neck to bring you in for a heated kiss of teeth and tongue.

Nothing outside of the room matters now, the world could fall to ruin and it would be paid no mind. He is only a man at this moment, and you his lover. Titles are naught, witcher, witch, butcher, beast; they hold no bearing here.

He is Tomura and, at least for the night (at the very least), he is yours. The man who’s touch ignites an inferno in your veins and with each thrust of his hips has you hiccuping for more when you part from the bruising kiss. He gropes at your breasts above him, cupping one and rolling a pebbled bud between his thumb and index finger while his free hand helps you meet each snap of his hips.

Tomura’s much more vocal than you would’ve ever imagined, curses and deep groaning rumbling in his chest. His touch is so tender for a man that deals violence and death, fingertips ghosting over and caressing whatever flesh is available to him. He looks at you like he’s known you, and maybe he has, feeling similar scorn to you if not worse.

You grab the hand that’s toying with your breast, dragging it upward to press kisses to each of his knuckles then turning it over to kiss the heel of his palm; all while never averting your gaze from him. Tomura gives a harsher snap of his hips, one that jostles your and earns a gasp a pitch higher from the others so he repeats the action. Over and over, relishing in every noise he’s rewarded until they’re loud moans you’re sure everyone in the inn can hear.

“I’m close, so close, Tomura, please.”

“I know, I know. I’ll get you there,” he practically coos, keeping the pace he’s discovered you enjoy. He gently tugs his hand from your grasp, massaging your breast for a moment and gives a parting tweak to your nipple as he moves his hand to between your bodies. The first stroke to your clit of his calloused digit sends a convulsion through your body, causing you to throw your head back with an embarrassingly louder moan than all the ones that preceded it. Another swipe, another convulsion that has your cunt clenching around him enough to pull a growl from him in turn.

It goes on like this until the coil in your abdomen winds so tightly it snaps, white hot euphoria spreading through every cell in your body as you yell his name. Pride welling in his chest at the pleasure he provides, gritting his teeth in the vain attempt to stave off his own release for a few moments longer but the way your walls flutter and convulse around him brings him over the edge shortly behind you, releasing within you with a relieved groan.

You collapse on top of him once you both come down, panting heavily and sticky with sweat, skin now tacking together uncomfortably. After a moment to catch his breath, Tomura adjusts you both, pulling the thick furs up to replace the dampened linens, tucking you back under his arm once he’s finished in an awkward form of intimacy. You shift to position yourself more comfortably, tangling your legs with his and resting your head on his arm as he stares at the ceiling.

“You’re not so bad. . .for a witcher,” you say after a long moment of silence, tracing indiscernible patterns into the planes of his chest. His head raises to look at you, brow raised curiously in way that makes you need to stifle a laugh before he falls back to the pillow beneath him.

“In bed or in general?” He finally huffs, a sound resembling something of a laugh but not quite, grabbing your hand to still it and flatten it over the even beating of his heart.

“Both, I suppose,” and he smiles at this, small but in good spirit. He looks human, just a man basking in the afterglow of something completely carnal.

You’re both just two beings, nothing more, nothing less. At least for tonight; you suppose that’ll be enough for now.

#vixen writes #hiatus; on queue

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