Chapter Text
Despite the sun’s decline, you couldn’t escape the heat that permeated inside. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you set the trousers you were mending aside and pulled the front door open. It was quiet outside. Dark.
“I’m almost done,” you called out toward the kitchen after replacing yourself at the table. Your father was always so reckless with his clothes and your mother wasn’t around anymore to fix them anymore. You were happy to do this in her stead.
Folding the garment, you paused.
No, your father was dead.
“Ah, thank you so much, my dear.” You looked up to see Eibhear’s smile, gentle and comforting, as he exited the kitchen. In his hand was a hefty plate piled with dumplings. “I would be lost without you, I’m afraid.”
You returned his easy smile.
Yes, your father was dead, but at least you still had Eibhear.
“Not only would you be lost, you would also be in rags,” you laughed, taking the dumpling he offered you. “New filling?”
He nodded and swiped at his apron, trying to rid it of flour. “You should take the rest of the night. The shop has been bare for hours.”
You snorted and took a bite. “If I go home, who will help you eat all of these?” He rolled his eyes as you reached for another.
The dumpling was warm, heavy with garlic, caramelized onions, and potatoes. It tasted like home. You found solace in Eibhear’s company and the familiar smell of the forge. It felt like forever since you’d relaxed in his presence despite seeing him every day. When your father died, you thought that you were going to die too. No experience in the ‘real world’ and no one there to encourage you or pick you up when you fell.
Meeting Eibhear was a blessing and you had more love for that man than you could express.
“Maybe Geralt will help me finish them off.”
What…?
The sudden silence that followed was deafening. The air, thick and torrid.
You turned slowly to look at him. “...What did you say?”
“I said that I already packed them up for you.” He nudged the warm parcel into your hands, not seeming to notice the change in your demeanor and ushered you to the door.
“Wait a second,” you said, confused. How did he pack those up so quickly? And Geralt? He mentioned Geralt? But you haven’t… You hadn’t met him yet. Your head pulsed with pain as Eibhear’s hands shoved you further and further towards the door.
No. Wait.
Panic shot through you, pure and suffocating. You stumbled and turned, frantically trying to grab anything you could get your hands on, but Eibhear was getting further and further away, pulling back into the dark shop like a marionette. You knew what was coming.
“Wait, Eibhear!” You thrust your hand out to him and dug your feet into the ground in a desperate attempt to stay. To stay where it was safe. “No, please,” you cried, tears welling in your eyes. “Please don’t leave me! I can’t do this again!”
You were forced to the ground as the door slammed in your face and every light in Novigrad extinguished at once. Trembling, you staggered to your feet and looked around, harshly wiping your tears away.
The sooner you get through this, the sooner it will be over.
Turning on unsteady feet, you slowly began to make your way home, stomach heavy with unease.
You knew he was there. Could feel his eyes from the shadows. Could hear his steps not far behind you. You tried to walk faster, but knew that there was no running. No hiding.
The surrounding buildings morphed and melted away into an alley and there he was, blocking your path, a sliver of moonlight cutting between your paths. A useless obstruction, a phantom separation. His eyes reflected in the darkness like that of an animal and you could feel them piercing through you, filling you with dread.
“Please don’t do this,” you said quietly, never tearing your gaze away despite the strong sense of flight that coursed through you. He shook his head and stepped closer. “Please,” you repeated, voice sounding thick and foreign.
Stepping into the moonlight, his face was empty, scrubbed clean by your memory, only a blank canvas of flesh where features should reside.
“Just want you to know,” he began, his disembodied voice swirling around you like smoke. The lilt of his accent was garbled and distorted with time, but you knew what he said. He always said the same thing. You braced yourself when he moved again, quick as lightning. The breath was ripped from your lungs as he pinned you to the ground, his knee pressing hard into your spine. “This isn’t personal.”
“Fuck,” you sobbed, throat burning. “You ruined my life!” You clawed at the stone beneath you for purchase, but no matter how much you thrashed, he remained unbothered, shoving your wet cheek into the dirt. “You ruined everything!”
The man reached down and pried your jaw apart, pressing his open wrist into mouth. You spluttered as the familiar tang of his blood invaded your tastebuds. His flesh muffled your sobs and he pressed your head further down, causing your teeth to dig into his skin. Blood began to leak out the sides of your lips as your mouth was filled.
“Be good and swallow,” he coaxed. “It’ll all be over once you do.” A harsh strike to the back of your head caused you to gasp, drawing his gore into your throat. The man quickly removed his wrist, held your jaw shut and squeezed your throat until he was positive you ingested most of it. You sputtered and coughed, clawing at his arms, desperate for this torture to stop.
The feeling of his body against yours evaporated and suddenly you were alone again.
You retched, leaning on the wall for support in an attempt to right yourself. Blood mixed with bile splattered on the stone. Head heavy, you blinked and looked up at the sky. It was starting to rain. You closed your eyes to let the rain wash the blood away, but you knew he was always there with you. Would always be there with you. He made sure of that.
When you opened your eyes again, it was morning and you were at Corvo Bianco.
The sun was high when you finally moved. Largely, you wanted to remain in bed and rot and wallow and cry, because why not? It wasn’t fair.
But life wasn’t fair.
Your eyes drifted to the open window. Fresh air would be good for you perhaps. And the baby, you reasoned.
You dressed light, hoping that the wind would calm the buzzing of your skin. The slight swell of your belly bulged beneath your clothing and you found yourself staring down at it. It no longer felt like your body, as if you were watching someone else’s experience from the inside. A sigh floated from your mouth, resigned and detached.
The house was quiet when you descended the stairs. Geralt sat at the dining table, bathed in gentle sunlight. He looked up at you as you neared, taking in your ruddy cheeks and puffy eyes with a small frown.
“Hey,” he greeted, shutting the book that he was reading. “Going somewhere?”
You hummed quietly in affirmation, tugging on some loose threads of your dress. “I wanted to sit by the river. Enjoy the weather.” You paused. “Come with me?”
You weren’t sure why you asked, knowing he was probably busy. Maybe it was the dream. Maybe it was the dissociation. All you knew was that his presence comforted you and you were craving that comfort.
To your surprise, he agreed easily, nodding and rising from his seat. “Could use some air.”
The sun warmed your skin and made you feel a bit more composed. The sky was blue and clear as you watched a flock of geese fly overhead. The vineyard was bustling, each person engrossed in their daily tasks. Harvesting grapes, tending the fields, transporting crates of wine. Children darting around to catch the dragonflies and grasshoppers. You smiled and wondered, for the briefest of moments, if your child would like to chase bugs too.
What a useless thought.
It wasn’t a long walk, but the silence made you apprehensive. Had Geralt felt obligated to follow you? Yennefer did tell him to protect you, but how much trouble could you get in this close to home? The thought caused you to falter. This wasn’t your home. You likely wouldn’t even be here in half a year's time.
You held your belly absently as you walked and lowered yourself to the ground at the edge of the bank. Geralt settled beside you on his knees and reached for your ankle. You moved for him, obedient and pliant, despite not knowing what he wanted. He began to untie your shoe and your stomach fluttered as you watched him remove both.
You thanked him quietly and slipped your feet into the cool water as he moved to sit beside you. These small moments of intimacy thrilled you and scared you at the same time. How did Geralt feel about you? You were certainly conflicted about the melting pot of emotions that you felt for him. When you turned to look at him again, he was already watching you.
“How have you been feeling?” Struggling to hold eye contact, you instead moved your gaze to the grass beneath you. Specifically a long blade that you began fiddling with.
“I’m okay,” you said after a moment. Geralt’s warm hand slid over yours and stilled your fidgeting.
“Just okay?” Your chest tightened and your brows furrowed. You didn’t want to talk about how you felt. You didn’t want to keep feeling stupid and small. You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Premature tears stung your eyes. Stupid. Fucking stupid. Pulling your hand away, you held it to your chest.
“I had a dream about it last night,” you ground out, as if speaking was physically painful. “The attack,” you clarified. Geralt remained silent for a beat, giving you room to breathe.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Why did you keep holding it in? Talking about it would help, you knew that. But you were afraid. Afraid that he would brush you off, tell you that your experience was nothing compared to his own. Tell you that you indeed were small and stupid and deserved every moment of it. Because deep down, you felt like you did deserve it. But why? The only half assed reason you could come up with was… just because it’s you. Inside, that was reason enough.
Swallowing, you hesitantly met his eyes. They were gentle. He would never say cruel things like that to you. And you knew that. Shyly, you slid your hand back down to where his rested and linked your pinkies together in the grass.
“...I think so.”
Gasping, you sat up in bed as a deep cramp rippled through your body. You groaned and curled into yourself, gently rubbing your stomach. Skin hot and sticky with sweat, you shuffled to the edge of your soaked bed. You breathed through the discomfort as you slowly made your way to the window, wrenching it open. Moonlight illuminated the room and the night air cooled your overheated flesh. You leaned your head outside and dry heaved. As much as you hated the nausea, you were thankful it woke you from that nightmare.
A quiet morning. A bouquet of flowers. A man… You don’t remember his face, but he pressed a kiss to your head, held you lovingly. He vanished and you doubled over in pain; it felt like you were being torn in half. The baby inside of you thrashed and you watched as tiny clawed hands tore through the skin of your belly. Blood. Blood was everywhere… Even now awake, you couldn't shake this feeling of unease.
You felt so weak recently. Fragile. It was easy for you to get winded, so you tried to take it slow, but it was difficult to be content cooped up in the house. You were unsure if this was normal for a pregnancy, but if it was, you couldn’t fathom why anyone would want children. When you got back to your bed, you found a blood stain, maybe the size of your palm and an irrational irritation flared up in your gut. You heaved a sigh and began to pull the bedding off, intent on scrubbing it before the stain set in.
“Are you okay?” Geralt’s voice did nothing to quell your anger, seeming to only stoke the fire at his sudden appearance.
"I’m fine.”
“I smelt blood.” You grunted and continued to strip the bed. He stepped closer and appeared to analyze you before picking up one of the sheets on the floor to inspect.
“From downstairs?” Feeling embarrassed, you tried to yank it from his grip and he let you. “I’m fine,” you groused, gathering everything up in your arms and attempting to make your way to the first floor. He exhaled through his nose, clearly impatient, and grabbed you by the waist. You stumbled, caught off guard, but he held you with one strong arm and took the bedding from you with the other. “Let go!” You struggled halfheartedly against his grip, but he held you firmly above your growing belly, but below your breasts, as not to hurt you.
“Witchers have keen senses. Can also hear your elevated heartbeat.”
“I…” You deflated as he released you. “I had a nightmare.”
“About your attack?”
“No,” you said stubbornly, tears springing to your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather go back to sleep, if I’m being honest.”
Geralt sighed and stared at you for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Sit down and I’ll take care of this, okay?” You almost protested, but he smoothed his hand across your cheek to the back of your neck. He pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your head before disappearing down the stairs.
Your mind went blank. Did that…? You rubbed your hands to your heated cheeks and took a seat by the window like he instructed. What a poor time to learn that he could hear your heartbeat. The nightmare was almost forgotten and the knots it formed in your stomach dissolved into butterflies. Witchers can’t read minds or see dreams, can they? You felt silly getting so flustered over a small kiss when the two of you had sex previously.
Huffing, you stood and pulled clean linens from the closet and began remaking the bed. You needed to stop this. These feelings needed to go away. How much longer could you handle them? Could long could you last?
“I thought I told you to sit down.”
“I was worried about getting blood everywhere,” you lied.
“Here. I’ll help you get changed,” Geralt offered.
“I don’t need your help.”
He said your name gently, but firmly. “Not asking.” With a grumble, you turned away and raised your arms up, allowing him to pull your nightgown over your head. “If you’re feeling overheated, maybe you should sleep without it.” He put a steadying hand on your plush hip, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.
“I… I need to bathe…” You sidestepped him, feeling light headed and confused. “I still have blood…” You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest.
“It’s late and you need rest,” he said, reaching down to grab your hand. “Are you comfortable with me cleaning you up?” You weren’t sure if you heard him right, but you needed to sit down. You began to feel faint and you groped at the space behind you, hoping to grab the bed frame, but felt nothing. Geralt’s arms slipped under your knees and around your shoulders to ease you into laying down. “Stay put.”
And he was gone again.
Gripping the bedding, you took slow, deep breaths in an attempt to gather yourself. Eyes fluttering shut, the cool air from the window as well as the chirp of crickets helped you relax at least a little bit.
Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you were reading too far into his behavior. You doubted that this was normal behavior for the Witcher, but maybe this was something that Yennefer had asked him to do? Be… comforting? Affectionate?
You began to doze off again, only to be awoken by Geralt’s warm hand on your forehead. You blinked up at him slowly, flinching as a cramp rippled through your body.
“Are you in pain?”
“I’m okay,” you whispered. “Crampy.” He snorted a soft laugh through his nose and moved his hand to rest on your thigh, nudging you to open your legs.
“I’m going to clean you,” he said gently. Nodding, you allowed him to pull your thighs apart. When the smell of your blood reached your nose, you groaned, feeling embarrassed. “Just breathe.” How humiliating.
The cloth was damp and warm as Geralt slid it over your inner thighs, causing your sensitive skin to prickle again. He was gentle as he took care of you and you found yourself idly watching him in the darkness. The blood was wiped from the outer lips of your pussy, causing you to shutter out a breath. He caught your gaze, a silent question, asking for permission. All you could muster was an easy nod of your head.
Knee on the mattress, Geralt used one hand to spread you open and the other to tenderly clean away the blood. You covered your face with your arm, releasing an airy huff. The cloth passed over your clit and you twitched, breath hitching slightly. Again and you bit back a moan. Geralt paused.
In the back of your head, you wondered if you made him uncomfortable or if he was doing it on purpose, but right now it was hard to navigate through the fog in your brain. If he could smell your blood from another floor in the house, could he also smell your desire? It was overpowering when your powers were at their peak. You could remember the first time you had touched yourself after being turned. The heady smell of your arousal had permeated the air and spurred you on, intoxicating and driving your frenzied movements. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment from the memory, causing you to quietly groan.
Your body jolted suddenly when you next felt his finger ghost over your clit, cloth discarded. “Geralt,” you whispered. He hummed in response and languidly rubbed in circles, drawing a shuttering moan from your chest. Wetness began to leak from your pussy and you heard Geralt inhale deeply. There was no doubt in your mind now that he could smell it on you.
“Is this okay?” His voice was low, hypnotic. Eyes screwed shut, you nodded and shamelessly widened your legs. He gifted you with a rumble of approval before licking his fingers, rubbing your clit more firmly. Your hips stuttered forward and you bit down on your lip, trying to stifle a moan. Geralt tsked and leaned down to kiss you, nudging your arm out of the way with his nose. “I like the way you look at me.” His lips were soft on yours, muffling each noise that slipped from your throat.
He pulled back a fraction to take in the sight of you beneath him.
Lidded gaze. Eyes drawing to the column of his throat.
Heavy breathing. He saw a flash of your canines..
A line of blood dripping down your chin from where you had bit your lip.
His fingers moved faster.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you and you found yourself thinking that Geralt was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You blinked slowly, his bright eyes standing out in the dark of night.
The sound of your heart… His heart…
Geralt’s heart…
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Warmth began to creep over your skin, nipples pebbling painfully on your swollen breasts. Your jaw ached as you stared at him. At his neck. At his thrumming pulse that you were sure you were imagining. Your mouth watered. You wanted to bite him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his neck again. To feel that absolute high one more time.
A strangled cry was wrenched from your throat as the coil snapped. Geralt kissed you again, swallowing the noise and tasting the blood on your tongue. You gripped his forearms, hard enough to bruise, and bucked into his hand. His fingers slipped down easily, pressing into you. Gasping, a wave of pleasure washed over you as your cunt gushed and spasmed around his thick fingers.
When the static in your brain began to dissipate, you found him covering you with a thin blanket and blinked. Guiding you to sit up a bit, he helped you sip some water and used his clean fingers to swipe at the blood on your chin. “How do you feel?” His voice was soft and even, as if nothing happened.
You rubbed your eyes and tried to process his simple question. “Tired,” you croaked, shifting to lay on your side and pulling the blanket up higher. Geralt huffed a laugh and moved to stand. Your eyes fluttered. You heard him say something, but didn’t quite catch it.
“Careful.” Geralt’s warm hand on the small of your back helped steady you. The contact shot a thrill up your spine. Your body had been betraying you lately. The mixed feelings you had for Geralt seemed to be pushed aside in favor of a carnal lust that ebbed and flowed each day.
“Thank you,” you said softly as he led you to the table. “I’m still feeling a bit lightheaded.” Frowning, he stepped closer, almost hovering. The smell of him was overwhelming you and making you dizzier. Your body tingled as you looked up at him, eyes half lidded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. “I’m fine,” you reassured him. He could smell it on you, the arousal. He had probably been smelling it for weeks now.
“Do you want me to get Yen?” An innocent question, but a spark of panic and disappointment shot through you.
“No,” you said too quickly. “No, I’m ok.” You waved the question away and looked at the floor. You needed to keep it together.
“That’s what she's here for, you know.”
Resting your hand under your swollen belly, you carefully lowered yourself to sit. “I’m fine, Geralt, just pregnant.” Silence fell between you, strained and suffocating.
You longed for things to go back to normal, but if you were being honest, you weren’t sure what normalcy you craved anymore. You missed Éibhear, but did you miss your life in Novigrad? It was calm and predictable. There was something comforting about that, but at the same time, you missed the quiet evenings and warmth that Geralt’s friendship brought you. You wondered if he shared that same sentiment.
“Do you… feel any different?” His question caught you off guard. A small part of you wanted to tell him that yeah, you did feel different. You felt different about a lot of things.
“Not really,” you lied. The clouds in your brain seemed thicker every morning, your body more fragile. “I’m starting to regain my vampire stuff, though,” you added. “Didn’t realize how used to it I was until Yennefer’s potions took them away.”
“Vampire stuff,” he repeated with a brow raised. “Like what?” You snorted and looked away, messing with the fabric of your sleeve.
“Well, I heard you sneak into the kitchen for food last night.”
He cracked a smile and you felt warm again. “Impressive,” he praised. You couldn’t help but smile in return, but internally you berated yourself for being so easy. All he did was smile and the butterflies came back.
Just as soon as they floated in, they quickly fled. “Geralt, I need you to…” Yennefer appeared, papers in hand. “Oh, good morning, dear.” She smiled, stepping closer to you and placing a delicate hand on your belly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Just dealing with some mental fog,” you told her. She hummed in thought for a moment before looking to Geralt.
“My love, I need some local plants for something I’m working on,” she said, handing him the papers. He was silent for a moment as he looked over the list. “You could go together,” she suggested, turning to you. “It might be nice to get some air and stretch your legs. You must be tired of being inside.”
After the other night, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea for you and Geralt to be alone together. The guilt and shame that swirled around your mind was overpowered by your body’s desires. “Oh, I don’t want to slow him down,” you laughed awkwardly. You wondered if she knew about it. Maybe they had some sort of arrangement?
“Won’t slow me down,” Geralt finally said. “Do you feel up to it?,” he asked you, pocketing the list. You opened your mouth to decline, but faltered and gave a short nod.
“Wonderful,” Yennefer cooed. “If you’re taking Roach, make sure that it's slow and gentle to avoid any strain.” With that, she swept out of the room.
Yennefer was right, it was nice to get some air. It was nice to be more than a few yards from the house. It felt calm out here. Private.
The ride was slow, Geralt taking extra care to ensure you were comfortable. It almost felt nostalgic, sitting atop Roach again with him situated behind you. Only this time, you leaned back into him intentionally and took a little nap.
According to him, this was the last stop before heading back; a lush clearing near a quiet lake to the west. He told you this place was called Lac Célavy and that a Nymph lived on the small island in the middle.
He gave you an amused, but unimpressed look when you pitched the idea of going to say hi.
“You know that you didn’t have to take me out with you,” you said from your place in the grass, resting your sore thighs. You stretched your arms high above your head with a groan and fell backward. The grass was so soft and cool against your skin, you wondered if this was how wild animals felt.
Geralt rumbled softly, “I know.”
You watched him as he crouched down to inspect the base of a tree. “What are we looking for?”
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and stood. “We are not looking for anything,” he said, giving you a stern look. “You’re on strict orders to take it easy.” You huffed at his tone and rolled onto your stomach before beginning to scan the clearing for any interesting looking plants.
“Is it this?” You pushed yourself up and leaned over on your knees, pointing to a random patch of grass and clover.
“No,” he said without sparing you a glance, walking further into the treeline to your left.
You crawled a few paces on your hands and knees, pointing to a plant with tiny white flowers and dark green leaves. “This?”
“No.”
“What about this?”
Geralt says your name in a warning tone before looking up to see the plant you’re hovering over. “Huh.” He moves closer to inspect the plant before giving you a cocky little smile. “Good eye.”
The praise flushes your cheeks. He lowers into a crouch and inspects the plant closer, completely unaware of the churning in your stomach.
“Come here,” you whisper before you can stop yourself. Geralt tilts his head, not unlike a confused animal, giving you his full attention. He shifts closer.
You see your hand reach out to him, to touch his face, but you don’t register moving it; you’re not even sure you can feel your fingertips.
What you can feel is warmth. His warmth. The warmth of his skin. The warmth of his lips as yours meet, slowly and sweetly. One of his hands settles over your thigh and the other finds its way to your waist. You can feel his hair between your fingers and his beard scratching against your chin.
You graze his lower lip with your tongue and pull back a fraction. He follows you almost magnetically, hand finding its way to your cheek, cradling as if it were precious.
As if you were precious.
Precious to him…
Your lips meet again and he sighs, so softly. Kissing him feels right, you think. It feels natural. You wish you could stay in this moment forever.
The forest around you begins to quiet, settling down before the nocturnal creatures come out. Being out here, with him, especially as the stars began to peek through the warm tones of the sunset... You felt alive. Like you could really breathe. You’re so happy you came.
Geralt draws back with an amused huff and gently pulls you to lay down in the grass beside him. With your head rested on his shoulder, your eyes flutter closed as he begins to trace gentle lines over the skin he can reach with that arm.
A deep breath allows you to focus on the world around you as the forest begins to quiet for night. The soft rustling of leaves as the winds dance between the branches. Dulcet calls of loons. Baritone croaking of toads. Rabbits and foxes creeping through the underbrush. The symphony of nature melting away to a nocturnal lullaby of sorts.
You heard Geralt shift to look your way before turning back to the sky. “Do you…” he started before trailing off.
You hummed in acknowledgement. “Do I what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Geralt,” you urged, smiling to yourself.
“Do you remember,” he started with a gentle sigh. “when you asked me if I had ever met someone like you?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed at the thought. That seemed like ages ago now. “And you told me about how you killed that woman’s brother,” you recalled with a laugh, opening your eyes and turning to face him.
The laughter died in your throat upon seeing Geralt’s pensive expression.
“The truth is…” He drew in a deep breath before meeting your gaze, looking somewhat apprehensive. You frowned as Geralt reached out to hook his pinky around yours.
“Geralt…?”
“The truth is, I’ve never met someone like you before in my life.”