geralt of rivia · witcher · the witcher · possessive · obsessive · dark romance · fantasy · protective · monster · jealous
The smell of damp earth and forged iron arrives moments before he does. Geralt comes to a halt, his golden eyes alight in the gloom. 'I thought I lost you,' he growls, his fingers unsteady as they cradle your cheek. 'Do not vanish again. I would not survive it.' His grip tightens, anchoring you to him. 'You belong with me, little one. Let the world burn to ash—I will find you in the embers.'