Moans From Temeria | Witcher X Reader SMUT | Volume II

Geralt | Soup and Scars

Requested by KrissyHarley

The question if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time is debatable.
If you hadn't been attacked by that Griffin in White Orchard, you wouldn't have run into a certain master witcher.
With the right amount of soup, you might just patch him up.

Word count: 3300+
Relationship: Strangers

~

The hinges of the door of your homestead slightly creaked when you closed it. Cold wind found its way under your cloak, making you shiver instantly. All attempts to layer up proved fruitless. Still, your hunger was stronger than your will to stay warm, pressing you on.

White Orchard's sandy road was almost abandoned. No wonder, with the lingering threat of an approaching autumn storm. Any other soul roaming the streets might have called you insane for going out with the thunder already audible in the distance. You enjoyed the temporary loneliness.

Pulling your cloak tighter around you, you made way to the fields just outside of the small settlement. Near Tomira's hut, you often found many spices and herbs which you enjoyed in your cooking. You could have them for free, provided you brought her some food every once in a while.

You let out a sound of delight upon finding a patch of camomile blooms, kneeling down to gather them in the basket you were carrying. They would make for an excellent aroma in your currently simmering soup. If you were home in time, you could add them before it boiled too hard.

A little further away, you found some thyme and honeysuckle, musing in yourself about how they could be put to magnificent use later on.

"I could make a cream out of this! Oh, wonderful!" you murmured to yourself. The soft trickle of light rain started to pat on your face, causing you to look up at the sky. If you'd hurry home, you'd be back before—

--Upon turning around to head back to the warm place of home, you stood frozen in your tracks, nailed to the ground. A large creature was heading right at you at a speed you could barely comprehend – well, you couldn't comprehend anything right now. The blood drained from your face whilst the beast flew closer and closer, letting out a screech when suddenly, something seemed to distract him from charging at you. It turned around, obviously disturbed by something, or someone.

Just now you stumbled back, the basket in your hand falling onto the soil underneath you, all your carefully collected herbs scattering beyond repair. "By the gods!" you cried out, starting to pray in your head to every god that came up – you weren't necessarily religious, unless it came to a life-threatening situation.

You continued backing off, legs too weak to turn around and run. The only safe place was your home right now, and that road was being blocked by that... Griffin. You had head whispers around the village, but you had not believed the rumours. Looking back, you definitely should have done so.

"How do you like that silver?!" you suddenly heard a voice call out, gruff and loud enough to recognize it as a men's. A gust of wind blasted the griffin to the ground, and just now you noticed a white-haired man with a sword in hand slashing at the beast for dear life.

Even though all your instincts told you to run off, you were paralyzed by both fear and awe. The way the man moved in his heavy attire, cutting up the monster in front of him, it was almost mesmerizing.

In a few minutes, the griffin was done for. With one final blow to its head, it collapsed with a final screech. The stranger sheathed his sword and sighed heavily.

You were surprised when he turned to you, doing a few steps closer. You noticed how yellow his eyes looked, as if they were feline. He was a witcher, you immediately realized.