#i did NOT expect this long of a taglist ToT

[sknyuz]

heavy lifting | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin + roommate!jeonghan)

genre: college au, romance, smut (18+ markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gym buddy!mingyu

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, unprotected sex (do not do this lol), aftercare <333, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: ~8.5k

a/n: oh my godddd it’s finally here !! my first full fic <333 tysm for 500+ notes on the preview alone like ??? taglist is massive as well so that will be placed under the cut ^^~ shoutout to @meltinghershey, @mochisdayone, and @tigerhoshii for beta reading and dealing with my chaos lmaooo. hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

˚₊‧꒰ა taglist under the cut ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

@tigerhoshii @meltinghershey @amingo046 @drewstarkeygf @producedbyjeon @seokminfilm @mmessier31 @janeluvwonuuuu @boxsmil3 @inthetangerine @ateez-atiny380 @bunnymjr @producedbyjeon @bookandarrow @bemysolaces @ahloveisu @ninigyuuu @mochisdayone @cara-tiny @parkersroses @jeonghnie @dmstoyangyang @luxynjun @miraclekay97 @anniewings @acherry04 @adribobadri @kidultdays @kari-nne @shayminssi @tangerin3gurl @gyucheols-girl @whoisbaek15 @intrnetbbysworld @tymbarki @alien0n3arth

you’ve always been the kind of person who keeps yourself busy. your friends say you get “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s less about nerves and more about not seeing the point in stretching out conversations when you could be doing something useful. you’re good with people — you can hold small talk, swap stories, even keep up in a group chat when you need to — but it never feels as rewarding as finishing a project or getting ahead on an assignment. practical, that’s what you are. efficient with your time. so when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure to stay ahead starts to pile up, you fall into a familiar cycle of overworking without actually getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

kim mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

“y/n, you’re going again?” jeonghan asks, raising an eyebrow as you tie your sneakers, preparing for yet another trip to the gym.

“yeah, i—um, just need to clear my head,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes to avoid his teasing gaze.

jeonghan grins. “mhm, sure you do. so, what? you’ve got your eyes on some hunk down there?” he teases, making air quotes with his fingers, clearly referring to some “eye candy” at the gym. “someone’s been going to the gym a lot recently…”

you freeze, trying to play it cool. “what?” you ask, slightly panicking. “no, i-i’m just, you know, trying to get out of a rut with my studies. nothing else.”

jeonghan watches you carefully, then his eyes widen. “wait… there is someone, isn’t there?” he grins widely, and it suddenly hits you. “wait, y/n, don’t tell me that it’s kim mingyu? the gym’s golden boy?” he laughs, clearly amused by your flustered face.

you freeze in shock. “what? no—he’s just a guy who works out a lot! i mean, yeah, he’s nice, but it’s not like—”

jeonghan bursts out laughing. “so you do know him! oh, honey, don’t even try to act like you’re not into him. everyone knows who mingyu is. have you seen him? dude’s got the perfect physique, perfect grades, perfect car, and perfect everything. i’ve heard he’s loaded too. his dad’s some big-time olympic weightlifting official. he’s literally the walking definition of the ‘golden boy’ on campus.”

you blink, your mind struggling to keep up with the avalanche of information. “wait… the olympics? his dad?”

jeonghan nods. “yeah, exactly. i’ve heard he comes from a pretty well-off family too. so yeah, mingyu’s literally perfect. it’s no surprise that he’s in everyone’s top ten crush list.”

you feel your face heating up as the realization settles in. “oh my god…”

jeonghan chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “don’t worry, y/n. if you want to stare at a perfect person in peace, you just gotta deal with the fact that you’re not the only one who has their eyes on him.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “stop teasing me,” you mumble, but there’s no denying the fact that you’re definitely starting to feel a little more… interested than you’d like to admit. but it’s just a silly gym crush. definitely.

as if he wasn't already a regular in your daydreams, you bump into him again, outside of the gym this time.

the first time is when you’re standing outside the lecture hall, waiting for class to start, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. your mind’s still racing from last night’s study session, and you’re so absorbed in your thoughts that you barely notice when the doors to the hall open. as you look up, though, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

mingyu.

he’s wearing his usual easy-going smile, his gym bag slung casually over one shoulder, walking right into the building like he owns the place. you stare at him, frozen, as your heart rate picks up. he’s in your class?

“y/n?” a voice snaps you out of your trance.

you look over to see jeonghan, who raises an eyebrow at your flushed face. “you okay?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he follows your line of sight.

“uh, yeah… just didn’t expect to see… him.” you try to sound casual, pointing toward mingyu, but your voice cracks slightly.

jeonghan looks over, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just see your face turn fifty shades of red. “oh. him. so, you’re saying you haven’t noticed our campus' very own golden boy in your minor classes? phys ed major, i heard.”

“he’s a…?” you blink, confused.

“yeah,” jeonghan smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “mingyu. doesn’t surprise me, though. he’s always around. always looks like he’s got his life together, the body of a perfect poster boy for fitness promos in those gyms across town.”

you watch mingyu walk into the lecture hall, now knowing the one thing that had never occurred to you: he’s actually here, at the same school as you. sharing a class with you, at that.

it’s like a punch to the gut. of course he is.

and you? you’re here, stumbling through calculus with a mountain of textbooks you can never seem to get through.

but you can’t stop thinking about how easy mingyu makes everything look.

turns out… going to the gym wasn’t the worst decision you’ve ever made.

you weren’t exactly sculpting a six-pack yet, but you didn’t feel like complete shit all the time now. your brain fog was thinning, your mood was lighter, and you kinda liked walking past your reflection and noticing how your arms didn’t look so soft anymore. jeonghan had clocked it too.

“look at you,” he teased one night while you were getting ready for another house party he dragged you to. “all swole and glowy. is this a gym glow? did mingyu spot you or something?”

you rolled your eyes, fumbling with a random lock of your hair. “well… he’s definitely a looker, i do think it wouldn’t hurt to gawk at him wearing a compression shirt a few times a week.” you admitted, trying to keep your voice casual but you could already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

jeonghan gasped, immediately abandoning his lip balm to lean closer. “no way. tell me more.”

you huffed, giving in. “he’s just— okay, he’s really tall. and stupidly buff. and he always looks like he walked out of some greek mythology fanfic. and he’s nice?? like unfairly nice.”

“oh, babe. poor you. no one comes out of a gym crush on him alive.”

you both laughed it off, but the truth was… you were actually starting to enjoy the gym. not just for the obvious eye candy, but because it made you feel good. and you were slowly clawing your way out of that academic slump one sweat-soaked session at a time.

and parties helped too.

jeonghan had been on a social streak lately, dragging you to every decent gathering he caught wind of. and for once, you weren’t staying glued to the walls. you mingled, you danced, you maybe flirted a little.

like that one night with the guy named chan.

cute boy. bright smile. quick to pour you a drink and compliment your hair. he was a little too eager, but harmless. you didn’t mind giving him a peck on the cheek, his cheeks blushing a dusty pink in response.

“what year are you in?” you asked casually over the music.

“i’m a sophomore!” he beamed.

“oh,” you blinked. “you’re...”

his smile faltered a little at your sudden reluctance. jeonghan appeared at your elbow at the perfect moment, smirking. “poor kid. you just got downgraded to ‘little brother’ status.”

chan pouted but took it like a champ, even offering to get you another drink before you politely excused yourself. harmless. kinda endearing, honestly.

but the real kicker came a week later.

you were halfway through a very sad attempt at curling a dumbbell too heavy for your current strength level when someone suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision.

“oh, hey,” a boy with bright eyes and soft features said, slightly breathless like he’d jogged over. “you’re… y/n, right?”

you blinked. “um— yeah?”

“i—i’m chan.”

“nice to meet you, chan.” wait.

you stopped your reps abruptly.

he rubbed the back of his neck, looking nervous. “i, uh, think we met at that party last week?”

oh no.

the pieces clicked a little too late in your brain, but they did click. he was the cute guy who’d offered you a drink and talked you up, and you, in a half-drunk, affectionate spiral, gave him a kiss on the cheek before finding out he was way too young to be your type, jeonghan saving you as you both run away, making a break for the kitchen.

he looked so hopeful now it physically hurt.

before you could fumble out an apology or awkwardly escape, a very familiar voice called over from the other side of the room.

“yo, chan! quit slacking, get your ass over here.”

mingyu.

he was leaning against the leg press, towel draped over his shoulder again like a damn fitness magazine model. chan gave you an apologetic little smile and jogged over.

you took a moment to quietly die inside.

and then — as if fate wasn’t already laughing at you — mingyu clapped a hand on chan’s shoulder and grinned, talking loud enough for you to catch while pretending not to.

“this kid’s soft as hell, y’know that? started hitting the gym ‘cause some girl at a party broke his heart.”

you nearly choked on your water.

oh my god.

it was you. you were the girl.

mingyu didn’t know, of course. he was teasing chan like a big brother would, completely unaware that the object of the kid’s little tragedy was currently staring wide-eyed at her reflection in the nearest mirror.

you quickly turned away, pretending to be very interested in adjusting your earbuds(it wasn’t even connected to your phone).

fuck. fuckfuckfuck.

it had been a week or so since your… unfortunate run-in with chan at the gym. you’d done your best to laugh it off, though the way mingyu casually mentioned some poor kid started training because of a heartbreak at a frat party had you spiraling internally for a solid three business days. because what were the odds? your chan? apparently heartbreak over a 15 minute encounter was a hell of a pre-workout.

either way, you were ready to get back out there. another weekend, another party — fingers crossed you wouldn’t unknowingly crush some poor guy’s spirit this time and discover their glow-up arc at the campus gym. you sent up a silent prayer as you got dressed, hoping the universe would cut you some slack for once.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been a little more… experimental with your outfits lately. nothing wild, just a few tops cropped a little higher, jeans sitting a little lower. maybe if you showed a bit of skin, you’d start to feel as hot as you hoped you looked. besides — you’d been busting your ass at the gym. you deserved to show it off a little.

“okay, i see you!” jeonghan wolf-whistled from the other side of the room when you stepped out of your closet. “damn, baby, if i didn’t know you were one tragic gym crush away from full insanity, i’d think you were tryna pull tonight.”

“maybe i am,” you teased, smoothing your hands down your sides, a little proud of how good you felt lately. maybe it was the gym, maybe it was the new skincare routine seungkwan bullied you into, maybe it was pure spite toward every man who’d ghosted you, but you were glowing a bit, and you weren’t about to waste it.

jeonghan grabbed his keys and slung an arm over your shoulders. “alright, let’s go break hearts — consensually.”

the party was already in full swing when you got there, neon lights bleeding into every room, the bass so deep it made the walls thrum. you lost jeonghan somewhere between the kitchen and the makeshift dancefloor, though not before downing two shots together like some chaotic ritual.

an hour later you were a little tipsy, flushed from dancing, with the beginnings of a hangover clawing at the edges of your brain when you found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on lukewarm water. you’d just successfully escaped making out with some ridiculously pretty boy named wonbin you barely knew. his hands had been nice, sure, but his cologne was giving you a headache and you had a 10 a.m. gym session you weren’t about to flake on.

“look at you,” a familiar voice teased, low and warm and way too close to your ear.

you turned your head — and there was mingyu, grinning down at you, tight black polo stretched over his chest and looking like he’d walked out of a men’s fitness ad. or maybe a sin. who could say.

“don’t tell me you’re partying too,” you half-giggled, setting your cup down. “and here i thought you were some gym purist.”

“could say the same for you,” mingyu shot back, leaning against the counter beside you. “what kind of maniac hits the gym after a night at a rager?”

you let out a laugh, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “an insane one, apparently.”

your gaze dropped — you couldn’t help it — to the way his biceps flexed as he lifted his drink. god, you were barely sober and apparently even less subtle. before your brain could stop you, your hand reached out and squeezed his arm.

a full, proper squeeze.

and then you registered what you’d just done.

“oh my god,” you blurted, snapping your hand back like it burned. “i can’t believe i just did that. i’m so sorry—”

mingyu just barked out a laugh, reaching out to catch your wrist before you could flee the kitchen entirely. “nah, it’s cool. you like it that much, huh?”

his grin was sharp, teasing, and you were definitely too sober for this now. your pulse jumped as his fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, giving it a little squeeze back before letting go.

“i—” you started, but your brain short-circuited.

mingyu tilted his head, still smiling. “come on, i’ll walk you back. wouldn’t wanna lose our future gym freak to some frat house debauchery.”

the walk back was… quieter than you expected. not awkward, just easy. mingyu had one hand shoved into his pocket, the other loosely holding the bottle of water he’d swiped for you on the way out. the cool night air sobered you up faster than any coffee could’ve, but it didn’t stop the way your heart kept doing this stupid little jump every time your arms brushed.

you should’ve felt bad about ditching jeonghan — traitor behavior, honestly. but in your defense, he’d disappeared into a dark corner with someone you swore was a philosophy major who looked like trouble, so technically you were both abandoning each other tonight. friendship cancelled out.

“you good?” mingyu asked, glancing down at you.

you hummed. “better now. needed that fresh air.”

mingyu’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “told you. you’re almost as insane as me.”

you snorted. almost. the man had a literal six-pack under that shirt and probably ran marathons for fun. meanwhile, you nearly keeled over after fifteen minutes on the treadmill your first week.

by the time you reached your dorm building, the campus had quieted down. only the hum of street lamps and the occasional tipsy laughter echoing from other party stragglers.

you fished your keys out of your bag, hands clumsy from a mix of nerves and residual buzz. mingyu leaned against the wall by your door, watching you with that same soft amusement you hated how much you liked.

and you weren’t drunk anymore. you couldn’t blame it on that. not the flutter in your stomach. not the way your fingers twitched at your side.

you liked to believe it was the alcohol, but you knew better. because even sober, even under these shitty yellow hallway lights, mingyu looked unfairly good. and you were still a little bit of a loser inside.

you swallowed, gripping your keys too tight before blurting out, way too fast, “do you—wanna come in? or, i mean, just for a bit. like—i have snacks. and, uh. water. and… i guess my air conditioning’s nice.”

jesus christ.

your voice cracked a little at the end and you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

mingyu’s brow arched in surprise for half a second before a slow grin spread across his face. not cocky. not smug. just… warm. maybe a little endeared.

“snacks and air conditioning, huh?” he teased, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “hard to say no to that.”

your ears burned. “it’s fine if you’re tired or whatever—”

but he was already stepping forward, hand reaching to nudge the door open when you finally got the key to work.

“lead the way, gym buddy.”

and god help you, you did.

you don’t know what possessed you. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way mingyu looked under those shitty streetlights, hair a little messy, grin too easy. either way, you were now standing in your tiny dorm, watching him take a seat on your bed like he’s been here a hundred times before.

and you? you were having a mental breakdown.

“oh my god, what am i doing,” you muttered under your breath, moving to your tiny fridge to grab two bottled waters like your life depended on it. your hands shook a little, and you cursed yourself for acting like you’d never had a boy in your room before — let alone this boy. this unfairly gorgeous, golden boy, smile-that-can-take-down-roman-empires , literal greek god of a man—kim mingyu.

“you good?” mingyu chuckled, and when you turned, he was grinning at you, legs spread lazily, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. “you’re acting like you just smuggled me in past your strict parents or something.”

you huffed out a laugh, plopping down a water bottle next to him on the bed and keeping a very respectful distance on the opposite side. “sorry. i just—this wasn’t planned. like at all.”

mingyu shrugged, cracking open the bottle. “spur of the moment’s fun sometimes.”

you eyed him, unsure what to do with yourself, fidgeting with the label on your own bottle. “if you wanna head back to the party, you totally can. i mean, i’m tucking in for the night anyway. i promise i’m completely sober now, so no babysitting required.”

he looked at you, one brow raised, a teasing glint in his eye. “and miss out on the snacks and air conditioning you promised? no way.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled, heart doing its usual ridiculous flip when his knee brushed yours. casual. accidental. but you felt it all the same.

“plus,” mingyu added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping in that way that made your stomach twist up in knots. “what about our gym sesh tomorrow? together?”

you blinked. “our… what now?”

he laughed, reaching over to pluck the bottle from your hands and set it aside like you were both settling in for a long talk. “you’ve been avoiding me at the gym, you know.”

“i have not—”

“have too.”

your face warmed again. “okay, maybe a little. it’s intimidating, okay? you’re like… you.”

mingyu’s grin softened, eyes crinkling into those damn crescent moons. “i’m just a dude, y/n. and apparently, i’m now a dude who ditches parties for you.”

your head spun.

“you’re insane.” you try to brush it off.

“almost as insane as you.” he pushes further.

you laughed, the sound filling the room like something easy, and when mingyu’s hand found yours for half a second — a fleeting touch, a gentle squeeze before letting go — you didn’t even think about pulling away.

and you know what? maybe jeonghan was right. maybe you did have a type.

snack wrappers littered your coffee table, the air conditioning blasting at a level jeonghan would dramatically declare a war crime if he were here. you glanced over at mingyu, who looked far too at home on your couch, long legs stretched out, hair a little messy, that annoyingly perfect face lit by the glow of the tv screen playing some random old action movie neither of you were really watching.

“you don’t mind me staying over, do you?” mingyu asked, suddenly, tone so casual it made your brain short-circuit.

you choked on your water. “w-what? no! i mean—no, not at all! you can stay. totally. of course. i mean, obviously you’re gonna be on the couch, hahah, it’s totally fine, not weird at all.”

he raised a brow at you, clearly amused. “didn’t even ask to share the bed, y/n.”

“right! of course. couch it is.” you fumbled, standing up a little too quickly. “i’m—gonna wash up.”

you darted toward the balcony, trying not to faceplant on the way, heart hammering so stupidly hard in your chest it felt like a crime. outside, the night air was cool against your skin, and you grabbed a hanger off the clothesline — one of jeonghan’s oversized shirts and a pair of old sweatpants, thankfully dry and still carrying a faint scent of clean detergent and your roommate’s obnoxiously expensive cologne.

when you stepped back inside, mingyu was still sprawled on the couch, only now looking over his shoulder at you with a soft little grin. you cleared your throat, holding up the clothes. “these should fit. jeonghan’s taller than me, but probably not as tall as you, but he loves baggy clothes, so… y’know. good enough.”

“they’ll be perfect.” mingyu smiled, and you couldn’t believe how easy it looked on him.

you escaped to the bathroom, scrubbing your makeup off and washing up as fast as humanly possible, trying not to analyze your reflection too hard, might risk an existential crisis if you did. when you came out, hair wet and towel draped over your head, you froze.

because mingyu was already changed.

and holy shit — jeonghan’s oversized clothes looked offensively good on him. the shirt stretched just enough over his broad shoulders, the sweatpants hung low on his hips, and he gave you that soft, grateful grin like he wasn’t lowkey ruining your life.

“thanks for this, by the way.” he said, plucking a stray thread off the hem of his sleeve.

you nodded wordlessly, eyes shamelessly fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend otherwise. your feet carried you over to grab your own water bottle, and then — because your brain was fried and you didn’t know what else to do with yourself — you dropped down cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, towel still draped over your head, grabbing the remote with one hand and surfing aimlessly through streaming services, while the other dried your hair with the towel.

mingyu leaned forward. “give me that.”

you blinked, snapping out of your momentary daze. “huh?”

“your towel,” he said, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your hair’s dripping. let me dry it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he smiles. that damn smile again.

and because you were a fool, you let him.

he sat on the couch, legs on either side of you, the towel over your head as his hands worked gently, drying your hair with easy, practiced motions. his fingers brushed the nape of your neck, and your heart straight-up stopped functioning properly. the domesticity of it all, the weird, too-close familiarity, it was driving you absolutely insane.

you swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up so bad you were thankful your wet hair could still pass for cold skin. and maybe it was the way his thumb lingered on your jaw, just a little too long, or the fact that his legs bracketed yours like some kind of ridiculously domestic setup — either way, you felt that invisible line between you both shift. and for the first time since this night started, you weren’t sure if you wanted to stay on the safe side of it.

“there,” mingyu murmured after a while, pulling the towel off your head with a final little tousle, his voice low and weirdly fond. “all good.”

you fiddled with the hem of your shorts, feeling way too aware of how close he was. the room felt quieter now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the tv playing some car chase scene neither of you were watching.

“okay, so… um.” you cleared your throat, standing up abruptly. “you can take the bed. i’ll sleep on the couch.”

mingyu’s brows shot up. “what? no way.”

“what do you mean ‘no way’? you’re a guest.” you protested, already grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet.

“y/n, look at me.” he gestured down at himself, at the way his knees practically hit his chest sitting on your too-small couch. “i can’t even sit on that thing properly, let alone sleep. you’d be sentencing me to a night of back pain and leg cramps. i’m not making you sleep out here just for my sake.”

you scowled, stubborn. “but it’s my bed.”

“exactly. and it’s your apartment, so you deserve the comfy bed.”

“jeonghan’s room’s locked.” you grumbled, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. “he never leaves it unlocked when he’s not here. no other choice.”

mingyu leaned back against the couch, flashing you a crooked grin. “then we share.”

your brain practically bluescreened.

“w-wait, what?”

“the bed. we share. it’s big enough, isn’t it?” his grin widened. “i promise not to hog the blanket.”

you opened and closed your mouth a few times, grasping for some kind of coherent argument but coming up short because damn it, he was right. the couch barely fit him sitting down — there was no way he’d be able to sleep on it comfortably. and you weren’t about to let him throw his back out for a stupid reason like this.

“fine,” you muttered, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “but stay on your side.”

“scout’s honor.” he held up two fingers in mock solemnity.

“and don’t snore.”

“i don’t snore.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

you grabbed your phone charger and shuffled into your room, leaving the door open behind you. mingyu followed a beat later, still grinning like the smug menace he was. and even though every rational part of your brain screamed that this was such a bad idea, a tiny, reckless voice at the back of your head whispered that maybe, just maybe, you kind of wanted to find out what it felt like to fall asleep next to someone like him.

for the record: it was totally the alcohol talking.

probably.

maybe?

…fuck.

you told yourself it was fine.

just two pals. gym buddies. campus friends. besties.

two completely platonic people sharing a bed because of spatial logistics and the cruel, unrelenting limits of furniture design.

haha.

ha.

you were malfunctioning.

you sat on your side of the bed, clutching your phone like a lifeline as mingyu tugged the blanket over himself with an ease that should not have made your stomach flip. he lay there, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately like the world’s most peaceful golden retriever, while you stared at the ceiling, brain absolutely going to hell.

‘totally normal. nothing weird. just two amigos. chingus! bros!’

you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to sleep, repeating the words like a desperate mantra. and for a while, it worked. you drifted off into something hazy and warm, the hum of the air conditioning and mingyu’s even breathing lulling you under.

until a shift in weight on the mattress made your eyes snap open.

and you felt it — a puff of warm breath against the curve of your neck, so close you shivered.

‘oh my god.’

you yelped, a tiny, startled squeak that made mingyu jolt awake, eyes bleary and confused.

“shit— sorry! sorry, did i—” he started, voice rough from sleep.

“no, it’s— it’s okay, i just—” you flailed for words, completely undone.

he rubbed at his eyes, blinking at you with a sheepish smile. “i tend to roll over a lot when i sleep. didn’t mean to get all up in your space.”

“it’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning.

he studied you for a beat, then tilted his head, grinning softly. “you sure? i mean… you didn’t seem that mad.”

you wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out.

“it was…” you swallowed. “weirdly nice.”

his grin turned smug. “yeah?”

before you could lie or backtrack, he shifted again — leaning in until his lips brushed the same spot on your neck, the featherlight contact making your skin prickle.

“like this?” he murmured, half-asleep and reckless.

you could barely breathe. “mingyu…”

your voice cracked, hoarse and small in the dark.

he hummed against your skin, one strong arm draping lazily around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. you could feel the steady beat of his heart, the solid warmth of his body.

“i like this,” he whispered, barely audible.

and just like that, every single one of your loser brain cells went into cardiac arrest.

his arm around your waist felt heavy. solid. grounding in a way that made your breath hitch.

and then there was his hand — splayed across your stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, barely touching skin but leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his face was still buried against your neck, his lips pressing featherlight there, like he wasn’t fully awake, like his body was moving on instinct alone.

and god, it shouldn’t have felt this good.

you swallowed, pulse stuttering in your throat, trying not to focus on the way your thighs instinctively pressed together under the covers.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’

this was mingyu. your gym buddy. the guy who spotted you when you were too scared to touch the free weights. the man who chugged protein shakes like water and complained about his laundry bill.

but now he was pressed up against you in your tiny dorm bed, all warm muscle and lazy affection, and you felt… something.

something low and traitorous in your stomach, fluttering sharp and hot between your legs in a way you hadn’t expected. a dull ache, a clench of nothingness that made you shift in place without meaning to.

and of course, of course, mingyu noticed.

“hm? you okay?” he mumbled, voice still husky with sleep, his hand tightening a fraction around your waist.

you let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a whimper and hoped to god it passed for sleepy noise.

“yeah,” you whispered. “just… warm.”

“you want me to move?”

the words made your stomach drop. panic spiked sharp and bright in your chest.

“no!” too quick, too loud. you winced, immediately mortified. “i mean— it’s fine. i like it.”

his smile was lazy, smug even in half-sleep. “yeah?”

you bit your lip. “yeah.”

and then his hand slid a little lower.

not on purpose — you told yourself it wasn’t on purpose — but the way his palm brushed the dip of your hip, fingers grazing bare skin, made you feel that something again.

your breath hitched.

‘oh my god.’

your brain was a storm of sirens and red flags but your body didn’t care. it was already reacting, warmth pooling in places you didn’t dare name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he couldn’t tell.

but mingyu, perceptive even in sleep, let out a low chuckle against your skin.

“you’re kinda squirmy, y/n,” he teased softly.

“shut up,” you croaked, absolutely humiliated, heat rushing to your face.

he laughed, that same warm, boyish sound that always made your chest hurt, and settled in closer.

“don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting your ear. “i don’t mind.”

you didn’t know who moved first.

maybe it was the way his fingers curled against your skin, rough pads stroking just a little too slow, a little too deliberate.

maybe it was you — traitorous, loser brain short-circuiting — turning your face toward his, catching the curve of his smile in the dark.

maybe it was the sheer tension that had been crackling between you for weeks, building in glances, brushes of hands, the weight of his gaze on you across a crowded gym floor. it had to break sometime.

and it did.

because then his lips were on yours.

soft, warm, tasting faintly of the cheap beer from earlier and the mint of your toothpaste. it was clumsy at first, a messy slide of mouths and teeth, a surprised noise catching in your throat as his hand tilted your jaw, deepening the kiss.

“fuck,” you breathed when you broke apart, and mingyu just grinned against your skin.

“you sure?” he murmured, thumb stroking under your chin, eyes searching yours in the dim light.

and you — flustered, awkward, a little tipsy but painfully sober now — nodded. “yeah. yeah, i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, one hand at the small of your back pulling you flush against him. you felt everything — the press of his chest, the solid heat of his thigh between yours, and the unmistakable, undeniable hardness against your hip.

your head spun.

‘oh my god.’

mingyu pulled back just enough to laugh, breath warm on your cheek. “now who’s feeling something?”

“shut up,” you gasped, but you were smiling, you couldn’t stop smiling, even as your face burned and your hands trembled where they clutched his t-shirt.

his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “can i—?”

“please.”

he was so gentle, like he thought you might break if he touched you wrong, murmuring your name like it was a prayer, all those muscles for show but his touch impossibly careful.

the room spun, your heartbeat louder than the air conditioner, mingyu’s breath ragged in your ear as he settled between your thighs, his hand slipping under the waistband of your shorts and—

“mingyu,” you whimpered, your voice cracking, half-laughing at yourself because holy shit this was really happening.

“i got you,” he promised, lips ghosting your jaw. “i’ll take care of you, y/n.”

and he did.

slow, achingly careful, like you were something precious — and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe you were.

then it was a tangle of hands, mouths, clothes splayed somewhere in the dark, it was messy and desperate and you should’ve known better than to underestimate him. you’d seen those muscles at the gym, felt them under your hands — but it wasn’t until now, when he hooked your thigh over his hip and pressed you down into the mattress, that you realized just how strong he really was.

and when he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, his palm sliding down your back in a slow, reverent stroke, your brain short-circuited.

“jesus christ,” you gasped, cheek pressed to the pillow.

“like this?” he murmured against your ear, voice low and warm.

you barely managed to nod.

he started slow, careful — his hips rolling into yours, lazy and deep, one hand laced with yours against the pillow. you felt the strain in his forearm where it bracketed your head, the soft curse in your ear at how tight you clenched around him.

then, when your hips pushed back into him, a helpless little sound catching in your throat, something in him snapped.

the next thrust was harder — not rough, but deeper, firmer, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that made your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut.

“fuck—mingyu,” you choked out, hands clawing at the sheets.

he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “feel so good, baby,” he rasped. “been wanting this—wanted you—”

you couldn’t answer, too busy trying not to drool into your pillow as he kept going, the thick drag of him inside you dizzying. it was too much and not enough at the same time, your body trembling and brain turning to static.

every roll of his hips made your breath hitch, the room filled with the slick, filthy sound of skin against skin, the low broken noises leaving both your mouths.

and even as his pace picked up, as your body went pliant under his and your legs shook, mingyu was still achingly gentle in how he touched you — hand smoothing your hair from your face, lips brushing the back of your shoulder.

“good girl,” he groaned, voice cracking as his rhythm faltered. “fuck—‘m close—gonna—”

his hips stuttered, a deep, desperate moan spilling from his throat as he pulled out last second, rutting his cock against the curve of your ass as he came hard, hot ropes of it painting your lower back and thighs.

your body trembled, face buried in the pillow, breath ragged and uneven as you felt the warmth of it on your skin, the heavy, shaky way he exhaled against your shoulder.

and for a moment, neither of you moved — just the soft hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of blood in your ears, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

he collapsed on top of you, catching himself just in time, his strong arms holding you close as he tugged you into his chest. you were too tired to protest, too exhausted to do anything but let him hold you, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

his arms were so strong, tanned and muscular, yet the way he held you was impossibly soft. despite everything — the hours you’d spent at the gym, the newfound strength you were building — you felt so small in his hold, a feeling you couldn’t deny you loved. it wasn’t in the sense of weakness, but in how careful he was with you, how you felt like he was holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. his warmth, his scent — it was all consuming in the best way.

“fuck,” he whispered, his voice raw. “you’re amazing.”

you smiled, your heart fluttering, but you didn’t have the energy to respond. all you wanted to do was lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek as he held you close. it was almost as if the world had stopped. just the two of you, tangled in the sheets, in each other’s arms. his hand ran over your back, a soft, soothing motion that made you want to curl further into him, to let yourself fall into the safe space he’d created.

after a few quiet minutes, you felt the bed shift as mingyu reluctantly untangled himself. you made a small sound of protest, but he just chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hang on,” he murmured. the mattress dipped again when he returned, and then—

a wet, warm cloth brushed over your skin.

your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it. the gentle, careful way he wiped you down made your whole body ache in a different way, a deep, fluttery warmth blooming in your chest.

“just cleaning you up,” he said quietly, his voice so tender it made your stomach flip. “can’t have my girl falling asleep like this.”

and you would’ve made some flirty comment if you weren’t so bone-tired. though, in your haze, your eyes flickered down and caught the cloth in his hand — wait. was that… jeonghan’s shirt? you squinted, brain foggy, but you could recognize that obnoxious band tee anywhere. a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipped from your lips.

“is that—?”

mingyu grinned, clearly unbothered, continuing to wipe you down with maddening gentleness. “it’ll go missing after tonight, hope he won’t miss it.” he lets out an airy chuckle.

you wanted to laugh with him but the tenderness with every touch and wipe over your skin made your throat feel tight, your eyes blinking back slumber, overwhelmed in the best, most ridiculous way.

when he finished, he tossed the poor shirt aside and pulled you back into his arms like he’d never let go. “don’t wanna move,” he mumbled against your hair, pressing another kiss to your forehead. his arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “sleep. we’ve gotta be up for the gym later.”

you almost giggled, but let out a dreamy sigh instead — you were too tired, too content with the way he was holding you. the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, but here, in his arms, everything felt right. you nodded, not trusting your voice, but somehow, that was enough for him.

the room was silent now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and your steady breaths. he shifted just slightly, ensuring you were tucked securely against him, and before long, you felt the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids.

you drifted off, wrapped in his warmth, still feeling the echoes of everything that had happened. for once, you didn’t feel like that burned out student who can barely lift anything at the gym anymore. not when you had someone like mingyu holding you this tightly. you could lift the whole world with this euphoric feeling.

the next morning came too fast.

mingyu kissed you before he left, still smelling like your bodywash and the lingering trace of sweat and skin. you were half-asleep, face buried in your pillow as you felt the press of his lips against your temple, his voice a low murmur. “i’ll see you at the gym, cutie.”

then the door clicked shut, and you groaned into your sheets.

by the time you dragged yourself to the gym, your legs were jelly, your thighs aching in ways you hadn’t expected. you caught mingyu leaning against the front desk, grinning like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts a few hours ago.

“leg day?” he asked innocently, one brow arched.

you scowled. “i am so not doing leg day.”

he laughed — the kind of laugh that made you want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. “c’mon, i’ll go easy on you.”

“you said that last time, you liar.”

still, you let him lead you through the warm-up, pretending you weren’t staring when his shirt lifted a little, exposing tan skin and the cut of his abs. your banter bounced back and forth, teasing, smug little grins exchanged between reps. you managed to trip over your own foot during lunges, and mingyu caught you by the waist like it was nothing, steadying you with those massive hands — the same ones that held you close last night, skin to skin. before you had the chance to get over the thought, he had already tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“careful, lightweight,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes, heart pounding way too hard for a simple gym mishap.

it was gonna be a long morning.

after the gym session, you and mingyu were a mess of sweat and sore muscles, but there was still an undeniable energy buzzing between you. you didn’t want to go home yet, not when he was looking at you like that — eyes soft, smile easy, and that unmistakable pull between the two of you that hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“smoothie?” mingyu asked, his voice almost too casual, but you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

you blinked, still trying to catch your breath after a killer session. “uh, sure, i’m down for a smoothie.”

the smoothie place was just a block away, and soon enough you were sitting at a little outdoor table with your huge cups, the kind of smoothies that were so large you could probably share with a small army. but instead, mingyu leaned toward you, grabbing one of the oversized straws and slipping it into his mouth.

“i’m serious about the flavor,” he said with a grin, “this is the one. trust me. the secret add-on’s spinach, by the way.”

you rolled your eyes and gave him a playful look, but didn’t argue. you took a sip from the same straw, the cold tang of mango, strawberry, and pineapple flooding your senses, no weird spinach flavor in sight. it tasted like summer. and something else, too — something sweet and comfortable that made you want to stay here in this moment forever.

mingyu was looking at you again, that soft, almost shy smile on his face, and for once, you didn’t feel like you wanted to leave, even if conversations stretched for hours. you didn’t feel like the try-hard academic you push yourself to be.

no, with mingyu, you were just you — the girl he had kissed and laughed with and shared a smoothie with. there were no pretenses between you two anymore, no more awkward glances or confusing feelings. it was simple. it was easy. and that made everything feel right.

“it’s good, right?” mingyu asked, taking another sip.

you smiled at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss the night before. “yeah. you were right.”

he leaned back, looking like he was about to say something, but instead, he just chuckled softly. “this smoothie tastes like something my future partner would like.”

you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “bold of you to assume they’d date a guy who puts spinach in his smoothies.”

mingyu laughed, eyes crinkling. “what, you don’t think so?”

you leaned back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “guess that’s something my future boyfriend will find out.”

and with that, everything seemed to click. it wasn’t just the gym, or the smoothies, or the fact that you were already falling asleep on him every night. it was this — being with him, sharing these little moments that felt so much bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.

mingyu looked at you then, his expression soft and sincere, and you realized that this — whatever this was — was real. you weren’t just friends anymore. you weren’t just gym buddies. you were something more, and that was enough for you.

as you sat there, sipping your smoothie and enjoying the warm morning sun, you couldn’t help but smile. things with mingyu were simple, but they felt so right. and right now, that was all you needed.

a/n: phew this has been such fun to write <33 and i hope it gets as much love as its preview !! tysm to carats and other multistans ^^~ if u liked reading this, drop me a follow, lets be moots !! and feel free to send in prompts of ur favorite idols to my inbox ~ i prioritize requests and they r always open !! have a nice day every1 !!!!!!!!!!

[lilikags]

Hi Lili! Can I ask for some fluffy headcanons for Albedo and Xiao being kabedoned by their shier and sweet fem s/o because she wants to catch them off guard please? Thank you! (also cuz she wants kissies if that's okay) ~Lycoris

request !! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

‗ ❍ req open at @lilikags (hq, genshin, e7) & @arlitem (tot) ‗ ❍ Albedo & Xiao being kabedoned by their shier & sweet fem!s/o because she wants to catch them off guard ‗ ❍ fluff, hcs, fem!reader ‗ ❍ apologies for this being super late, I hope you don’t mind. :0 ive been super busy and i hope it hasn’t been too long >< pls enjoy !!

ALBEDO

-> First reaction: blinks. He doesn't really understand why; it seemed out of character, and he didn't expect anything like that to happen at all.

-> He's confused. "(Y/N), what are you doing?" He wasn't stern at all, just asking a question- not really what you were doing, but why you were doing this. It's something he picked up from being around humans more in Mondstat.

-> He thinks it's cute once he understands why. He doesn't expect you to do it again, but he thinks it's cute!

XIAO

-> "(Y/N)- what-" He's completely confused- What does this mean? Why are you doing this? This feels so unnatural- not in a bad way, but you really did catch him off guard here.

-> He really thinks you're cute though. This is different than what he normally sees, and to his own surprise, he likes it. Trying to show dominance while having that adorable face of yours- he really thinks that's cute.

-> He thinks about this a lot. He just thinks about it- maybe if you do it again...

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : lili’s notes…

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

➽ please rb if you liked this! it would make me so happy <3

➽ masterlist

➽ tag list in rbs. send an ask to be in the taglist!

[eberles]

Teach Me

Anthony Beauvillier

a/n: i saw a post about this concept and wanted to write it so i did, enjoy! 🥰 this is all smut, no plot... taglist!

synopsis: teaching you how to give head

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), slight innocence kink, 18+

“Wait,” you paused, biting your lip, placing your hand on his bare chest using it to push Anthony back a little. Currently, you were laying on your back, your boyfriend hovering above you, his lips peppering kisses to your neck and jaw while holding his weight on his arms. “Can I try something?”

He nodded slowly as you reached for the drawstrings on his sweats, keeping your eyes locked on him the entire time. Anthony’s breath hitched in his throat as you untied the strings and hooked one hand around his waist band. He quickly grabbed your hand, stopping you before you were able to pull his pants down his legs.

“You don’t have to do this.” Anthony’s face was soft and genuine, wanting you to know he was serious. He never pressured you into anything before and you were beyond grateful and happy with how your relationship had been going so far.

“I know, but I want to. You do all kinds of things for me and I wanna do this for you.” you explained, not even a little bit of hesitance could be found from your tone. It was still rather early in your relationship, but Tito was the only guy you’d been with who didn’t just expect sex or anything sexual. Every experience with him thus far has been perfect, and you wanted this to be the same. You’ve had sex before, but giving head was a whole new world for you and you’ve deemed right now the perfect opportunity to learn something new. “Do you not want me to?”

“No baby, of course I want this. I just wanna make sure you’re not just doing it because you think I need it.” he spoke softly, caressing your cheek delicately with one hand. You smirked, pecking his lips before pushing him on his back. His legs were spread as you made yourself comfortable between them. Anthony lifted his hips as you began tugging his sweats and boxers down them, pulling them both off and throwing them to the side.

“Teach me?” you batted your eyelashes, looking at him with big, innocent eyes and a small smile on your face. Tito’s eyes rolled back in his head at your words, his cock already half hard as you grabbed the base of it. You weren’t completely oblivious, you had some idea of what you were doing, but it was more fun this way.

“Oh god.” he was sitting up with his weight on his forearms, his lips parted as he took shaky breaths. You jerked his cock in your hand a few times letting him get fully hard, while swiping the pre-cum over his tip with your thumb. “Keep doing that, baby.”

You kept your hand on his length, jerking him a little faster, his low moans and pulsating dick giving you more confidence than ever. You licked your lips, dipping your head down so you were hovering just above him, so he could feel your breath on his cock. Pausing, you looked up at him, awaiting the reassurance, his fingers fisting the sheets as he nodded vigorously. “Go ahead baby, use that pretty mouth.”

Fuck he was hot, all laid out in front of you, face red and adams apple bobbing as he gulped, patiently waiting for your next move. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, your panties dampening at his words. You slowly bobbed your head up and down his length, doing your best to coat him with your spit. His hips bucked, his erection hitting the back of your throat making your eyes a little watery. “T-try to focus more on t-the tip.”

Anthony scooped your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, pulling it out of your face, as you moved up his length focusing on the head. Your lips wrapped around the tip, swirling your tongue around, collecting his pre-cum in your mouth. His moans filled your ears, your name passed his lips in a breathy voice as he watched his dick disappearing in your mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes threatening to squeeze shut, your warm wet mouth quickly overwhelming him. “You can use your hand on the rest.”

You obeyed, using your hand around the parts of his cock your mouth couldn’t reach, the burning in his stomach became more visible as you chased his orgasm. “That’s it, princess. Just like that.” he praised.

Your fingers pumped his hard cock, creating a steady pace as you kept your lips locked around the red tip, alternating between swirling your tongue and kitten licking at the head. His arms gave out under him, the back of his head hitting the pillows as his dick twitched a few times in your hand. “B-baby, i’m gonna cum.”

It was more of a warning in case you weren’t ready to swallow, but his shallow groans kept your mouth attached to his length wanting to hear him for as long as you could. You moaned, pushing your head further down his length, the vibration in your throat sending him over the edge. Your name continued to fall from his lips mixed with a few swears, his legs shaking and his toes curling from the blissful orgasm. Anthony came in white spurts on your tongue, coating your mouth as his dick spasmed against your cheeks. His hands found their way to your jaw, pulling you off him as you swallowed his cum in one gulp down your throat. You moved up to the head of the bed, smiling to yourself as you saw his glistening chest rising and falling trying to catch his breath.

“You sure you've never done that before?” he sat up looking at you, a truly fucked out expression covering his face, hair sweaty stuck to his forehead. You hid your face in his shoulder, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you against his lips in a warm kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. “Cmon baby you can't get shy on me now.”

“What can i say? You're a good teacher.” you winked, letting him push you onto your back while mumbling something about returning the favor.

———————————————————————————————

taglist: @sortagaysortahigh @butgilinsky @kiedhara @stfukie @beauvibaby @taiter-tots @ana-maa @iamtheblondestblonde @elitebarzal @himbos-on-ice @mycaptaintazer @joelsfarabee @calgarycanuck @lovenhlboys @tortito @twinklelilstarkey @whitesummerx @softboybarzal @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @ebonyyyy-e @heatherawoowoo @honeybearbarzal l @besthockeyfics @fallinallincurls @stars-canucks @latinahockeylady @svechnikolan @ilvd2 @barzysreputation @kaitieskidmore1 @bitchforbarzy @fiveholegoal @radiantroope @imapuckbunnie

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 16

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

CW: this chapter delves a bit deeper into Alastair's head and can be a bit heavy

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15

Next Chapter: Chapter 17

I’d hoped some of you had more sense. I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. The words echoed in Alastair’s head, he should have known this was bound to happen. The Herondales thought he was a good person, capable, trustworthy, and they were wrong. They would have found out eventually, but it still stung. And he’d tried. He’d wanted so badly to be what Will and Tessa believed he could be, but he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t a good person, he wasn’t capable, he wasn’t like Jem. He was awful and worthless and undeserving of their kindness.

Before dr. Gray could have said anything else, Alastair had left, gone to his bedroom. Years of practice to keep his expression blank, to never show that they get to you, it was all coming apart. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was so tired of pretending to be something he was not.

He collapsed onto the bed and curled up as if to protect himself. He grabbed his stuffed hedgehog, tried to find comfort in it. He was often ashamed to keep his hedgehog when he was far too old to still be sleeping with stuffed animals, but he’d never had a childhood, he’d never felt safe and protected. When he held his hedgehog, he could at least pretend. It wasn’t working. He felt so helpless, like everything was spiraling out of his control and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He had always liked to pretend he was in control, by keeping everything neat and organized he was controlling what he could. But the truth was that nothing in his life was in his control and it never would be.

He was caught in a storm and there was nowhere he could find shelter, the only thing he could was endure. He wasn’t sure how to do that either. At times like this Alastair feared it would always be like this and he would never get better. He wasn’t even sure what was going on, there was just an overwhelming sense of helplessness, of perceived danger and being too small and weak to do anything to protect himself.

He heard someone knock on the door. Cordelia, perhaps. Or Thomas. They couldn’t see him like this. They couldn’t see just how worthless and awful and broken he was. Even around them, he was pretending, acting like he was fine as long as people didn’t drink when he was around. Thomas deserved someone better than him, someone who could give him everything. Alastair was used to giving people he loved everything he could, and it had never been enough. He could not deny that he was the common factor there. Whatever love he had left was broken at its core, he could not love people enough and in return he did not deserve to be loved.

‘Alastair, are you in there!’ Cordelia yelled.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, Cordelia seeing him like this or Thomas. At least Cordelia had seen him break down before. Once upon a time, anger had been his defense. When things became too much and he couldn’t take it anymore, he would get angry. He’d yell at people, or else he’d turn stone cold and hateful. He’d hurt so many people with that, had so many regrets. He’d learnt to stop doing that. Lately he didn’t even know how to feel angry anymore. He often just felt empty inside, tired. Sometimes he didn’t feel anything anymore, as if he wasn’t even human. But that emptiness was still preferable to this, he thought, better than being overwhelmed by emotion, by a sudden sense of helplessness and a perceived danger he wasn’t even sure wasn’t there. Although perhaps when that helplessness went away and emptiness remained, he’d wish he could just feel something.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ Alastair yelled back, summoning the last bit of his old defensiveness.

‘Alastair, can we come in?’

Thomas, his voice gentle, but Alastair could hear some anxiety in there as well. Thomas might like him, find him attractive even, but he was bound to find out Alastair couldn’t be a good partner, couldn’t fulfill his needs.

‘Please don’t!’ Alastair said. His voice broke. ‘Just… leave me, alright? You don’t need me, you can find the selkie skin without me.’

‘Alastair, I’m going to sit out here, and when you’re ready, come open the door. I’ll wait all day if I have to.’

Alastair hadn’t expected his sister to respect his request, he’d expected her to barge in, Thomas in tow, and drag him out of bed. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He clutched his hedgehog against him. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t save Thomas. He’d disappointed Tessa. His memory wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Alastair had always thought he could accept that very few people loved him. He didn’t like most other people much and preferred the safety of his own shell anyway. But he did long to be loved, even if he did not deserve it. Thomas was bound to find out soon enough, if he even survived. Alastair knew it would be his fault if they lost Thomas, because instead of working on saving him, he was here, broken down and useless. He never knew what to make of Will and Tessa, he suspected they had this idea of him that was more about his cousin Jem than about who he was. But Jem was extraordinary, and Alastair could never live up tot that.

He gave in to the overwhelming emotion and started crying. He tried to silence the sobs in his pillow, he didn’t want anyone to know he was crying. It was pointless, he knew, but Alastair was still so ashamed of his emotions.

He wasn’t sure how long he kept going. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and when he was finished he just felt empty. At least that sense of helplessness was away, even if what replaced it wasn’t much better. Alastair dried his eyes and got out of bed, gently stroking his hedgehog before making his bed and carefully placing the hedgehog underneath his blanket.

He figured he might as well come out. At least now he could pretend things were fine, even if his eyes were still puffy and red. When he opened the door, both Cordelia and Thomas were sitting there, relieved to see the door finally open. How long had they been there, waiting for him? Why would they do that? Tessa was there too, and Alastair immediately regretted his decision to come out of his room and wanted to retreat.

‘I truly am sorry, dr. Gray,’ Alastair said, his voice small. He couldn’t look her in the eye, but then Alastair had always struggled with eye contact. It had taken him years to figure out the appropriate times to make eye contact and force himself to do it. When he was too overwhelmed he just couldn’t do it.

‘No, I am sorry,’ Tessa said. ‘My husband confessed he encouraged you to go into the woods. But even if he hadn’t, I should not have singled you out like that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of that apology. ‘We should not have lied,’ Alastair said.

He wanted to add an explanation of the selkies skin, but he felt he was still too overwhelmed to say more than a few words. He could pretend he still had this under control, that he still knew what he was doing and could save Thomas. He could pretend he wasn’t dead and empty inside. He would do the best he could, because Thomas deserved to live. And if it cost him his life, maybe that was for the best.

Alastair wasn’t suicidal, he’d never made concrete plans to end his own life, he only had the occasional thought of death. For some weird reason, that had gotten worse at first after leaving Father. Before, Alastair had no choice but to endure, because his mother and sister needed him. If he didn’t protect them, who would? But after leaving, he’d sometimes feel like he had no purpose anymore. He no longer had to protect his mother and Cordelia, and although he was safe now too he never felt that way. At times he did feel he might be better off dead. That had improved about a month after starting his medication though, he rarely had these thoughts anymore.

‘I trust you,’ Tessa said. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment? It’s alright if you prefer another time.’

Alastair nodded, still unable to meet Tessa’s eyes. He hoped he would be able to speak properly. On rare occasions, Alastair found himself unable to get the words through no matter how much he wanted to. It was something he hadn’t found an explanation for, but there were times he was too overwhelmed to speak. Usually when he was upset, he got angry and said cold, cruel things he didn’t mean. But when things got too bad and spiraled out of control sometimes he just couldn’t get words out, something he once concealed by giving people his most hostile glare and walking away.

Tessa sat down in one of the arm chairs in his room, and Alastair sat down in the other, hoping he’d be able to actually have a conversation.

‘I’m trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head,’ Tessa said. ‘I know what I said hurt you, and I should not have put that sort of responsibility on you. I admit I’d thought that since you were careful, you might keep Lucie and the others out of trouble. But that isn’t fair to you, and I want to make sure you’re alright.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alastair managed to say, glad to be able to get at least some words out. He didn’t understand it, and it was fortunately a rare enough occurrence that he hadn’t really tried to understand it. He figured it was just another thing that was broken about him, although this was something that had been present when he was a child as well.

‘You don’t have to parent my daughter, Alastair. Nor Cordelia,’ Tessa said. ‘That is my responsibility as Lucie’s mother.’

‘I’m not like Jem,’ Alastair said.

It was not exactly a logical response to what Tessa said. There was so much more he wanted to say, but those were the words he could get out of his mouth, the thing he wanted to make clear. Because he knew Will and Tessa thought he was like Jem, and they had impossible expectations of him because of that.

‘I know,’ Tessa said. ‘If anything, you’re more like Will. And Gideon. But most of all, you’re like you. And you’re enough, as you are. It is not weakness, that you are struggling, and we all want to do what we can to support you.’

Alastair could only nod in response.

‘And if you want to go back into the woods, I won’t stop you. I know you’ll make the right call, Alastair.’

She shouldn’t trust him, she really shouldn’t. But he knew he would only make this more difficult and uncomfortable if he said that, if he could even get the words past his lips. People often didn’t understand the way he thought, and explaining his reasoning sometimes made him feel like he was crazy. He went downstairs with Thomas and Cordelia, who were still waiting outside the room.

Tessa groaned when she only saw her husband in the living room, nose stuck in a book. ‘Where did Lucie go?’

‘She’s just in the garden,’ Will said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Alastair sat down on the couch next to Thomas and snuggled against him. He knew he didn’t deserve this, he knew it wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the moment. At least Thomas was here now. At least it was something. At least he could feel something good now with Thomas so close to him. And Charles had never done anything like this, had never held him and comforted him. He wondered how soon Thomas would get tired of this.

Cordelia went outside to find Lucie, and Will and Tessa disappeared too, Alastair wasn’t sure where to. They’d be back soon enough, he guessed, and he was comfortable like this. Thomas was warm, and his strong arms were wrapped around him and kept him safe.

‘If there’s anything you need, just tell me,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m here for you, alright?’

Alastair just nodded, leaning into Thomas, placing Thomas’ arms in such a way that it was comforting and soothing. Lucie’s Lilo and Stitch blanket was next to him, and Alastair rubbed his hands over it, enjoying how soft it felt.

He didn’t dare voice his concerns about Thomas. He expected Thomas to deny it. People always lied, and sometimes they even believed their own lies. He suspected Thomas would. Thomas was so sweet and kind and saw good in people when there was nothing. He probably believed this would work out and he could love Alastair enough to fix what was broken. But Alastair had enough experience to know love didn’t fix anything.

‘I’m serious,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure yet, how all this works, what you need, but I want to figure it out.’

Alastair kept rubbing his hand on the blanket, stroking it in a repetitive motion. He was feeling a little better, but so tired.

‘I’m still figuring it out, too,’ Alastair said, feeling like he had calmed enough to speak again. ‘That’s why I’m seeing a therapist. She helped me identify triggers and find better ways to cope with sudden flashbacks and fear than anger outbursts. I used to have those all the time.’

‘I heard something from James,’ Thomas admitted. ‘About a year ago. How you burst out against him and then Cordelia broke up with him.’

‘He must have been very upset,’ Alastair said, guilt creeping over him.

‘He was,’ Thomas said. ‘I think at the time he didn’t understand why Cordelia had broken up with him. Lucie did though, she did the best she could to explain. But as James told it, you were so angry with him for no reason, and he was terrified. But I’m thinking, that must have been because of your disorder, right?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Please do not use my PTSD as an excuse for my behavior. I know I’ve said and done awful things, nothing excuses that. But yes, before I started therapy, I lashed out when I was upset. And that night, James and Cordelia were fighting over something. I’m not sure what it was about, probably something silly, and I’m guessing the fight itself must not have been so serious. But I’d just come home from my ex, and when I heard them I thought he was hurting her. I thought she was in danger. So I got angry. It never got physical, by the way. People always think I’m violent, because that’s how they view Persian men, but I’m not. Then James got angry too. And I understand. All he knew of me was the bastard I’d been when we went to school together, and he thought I was a monster. He said he didn’t understand why my sister still loved me, and when Cordelia asked him to leave, he at first refused to leave her alone with me, convinced I’d hurt my own sister.’

Alastair was shaking, even if it had been over a year ago. And honestly, he couldn’t blame James. He knew it was his fault, and he knew James’ perception of him was influenced by how he’d treated James. It would have been a lot worse coming from someone he didn’t have a past with. He knew that because of the way they looked, people expected Alastair to be violent and controlling and people expected Cordelia to be meek and submissive and in need of rescue from her family, or well, the Iranian part of her family. He knew many would assume his sister needed to be rescued from him, when he’d done everything he could to protect her.

‘Cordelia stepped in, and dragged James out before it got out of hand, and later I learnt that’s when she’d broken up with him.’

‘It’s not so much an excuse as it is an explanation,’ Thomas said. ‘We can all grow and do better, and having a disorder is not an excuse to hurt people, but I know you’re doing the best you can and I feel it would be unfair to hold you to the same standards as someone who does not have PTSD.’

Alastair wasn’t sure he agreed. More than anything, he wished he could be normal, he wished he could be in control and be good enough. He was doing the best he could, Thomas was right about that. But the best he could wasn’t enough.

‘But if I cannot be held to the same standards, what about my father?’ Alastair asked. ‘Does that mean, because addiction is a disorder as well, he cannot be held to higher standards? Could I not have expected more of him?’

Thomas frowned. ‘I don’t think it’s the same. As I said, having a disorder is not an excuse when you hurt someone. But you were very young when you did hurt people, and you stopped. You changed. You’re going to therapy. Your father never did any of that, did he?’

‘No he didn’t,’ was all Alastair said.

When he was younger, he’d been foolish enough to believe his father’s promises. He would say he’d quit, that it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d gotten better. But he never did. He wasn’t sure he could explain the disappointment, of finding his father passed out with a bottle again after believing his promises.

‘I think I’m not explaining it well,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m not sure… I know you’re sorry, for what you did, and that you’re trying to do better. But I think you lashing out because of your fear is not the same thing as someone else who is awful to people because they enjoy hurting others, or because they believe they’re better than them. You still have the responsibility to do better, but it’s not the same.’

‘I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said softly, tears in his eyes. ‘That’s the thing, I always knew it was awful, I knew what I did to people. I knew how much it hurt and I never wanted to do that to someone else. But I did it anyway, because I couldn’t take it anymore. At the time I thought those were my options, be bullied or become the bully. And I convinced myself, no matter what I did, it wasn’t as bad as they’d done to me. But that didn’t matter.’

Alastair burst into tears. He tried to stop it, to control himself, but he couldn’t. Part of him expected Thomas to let go of him, but he didn’t and Alastair leaned into him even more, closing his eyes. He could feel comfortable like this. He could pretend he was safe and protected. Thomas’ strong arms made a better illusion of safety than a lifeless stuffed hedgehog, for sure.

It was difficult, when someone could see right through him. And he knew Thomas had always seen through him. Had Thomas made excuses for his behavior back then? Had he defended him from his friends? Thomas had said he’d always seen Alastair was very sad, had he suspected something was not right? Had he used that as an excuse for the awful things he’d done? It was sweet of Thomas, for sure. But he didn’t want people to make excuses for him, he didn’t want them to pretend it was fine. He knew he didn’t deserve that.

‘You know, my father told me he was quite awful when he was in school,’ Thomas said. ‘When he went to Spain, he realized what his father had taught him was wrong and he didn’t want to be like that anymore. He deserved a second chance, and so do you. So far, you’re doing an amazing job.’

Alastair was tempted to shut Thomas down again. He wasn’t doing a good job. He’d tried to change, to be better, and at least he was no longer hurting others, but what use was it when he couldn’t help them either, when the only alternative to hurting others was hurting himself? But he was curious too, how similar was he to Gideon Lightwood? Tessa had drawn the same comparison.

‘I really can’t picture your father as a school bully,’ Alastair said, wiping at his eyes.

‘Me neither,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But he believes everyone deserves a second chance, because where would he be if he hadn’t been given one? And I find it really hard to believe what you said to me about my parents only liking you because of your power or because you want to save me. That’s not what they’re like at all.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how to explain that to Thomas. Perhaps he was making too many assumptions, but it just seemed unlikely anyone could like him for him as a person. People liking his power made much more sense. It was the only thing his father had liked about him, the only part of him he’d showed even an ounce of interest in. It was the only part Father hadn’t deemed worthless.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ was all Alastair said, mostly because he didn’t know how to explain what he was really feeling and didn’t want Thomas to worry.

Lucie and Cordelia returned inside, both their faces serious and Alastair suspected they were still concerned about the selkie’s skin. He had run out of ideas on how to enter that world by now. He sat up, but didn’t quite move away from Thomas yet. It felt too good to be held like this, Thomas’ arms applying just the right amount of pressure to be soothing. He wanted to hold on to that feeling.

‘Okay, so I have some news,’ Lucie said. ‘Grace escaped from Tatiana again and came to deliver a message to me. She claims I am a witch and I can use dark magic to open a gateway.’

‘Doesn’t using dark magic require making a deal with something like the creature we’re trying to defeat?’ Thomas asked.

‘According to Grace, not when you’re a witch. But that’s very uncommon, apparently. And she thinks my seeing ghosts is a sign I’m a witch. Problem is, I have no clue how to do any of the things she claims I can do. What do you know about witches?’

‘All I know is, sometimes people are born with certain powers, like my memory, but as far as I know all such powers are rare and no one understands why it happens,’ Alastair said. ‘Since she’s not human, maybe she knows more.’

‘There was an evil witch a few centuries back who was defeated by your and Cordelia’s ancestor,’ Lucie said. ‘And then she turned into a mermaid, which is how Grace knew about her.’

‘Some of our ancestors did keep journals, in an attempt to improve our knowledge of the supernatural,’ Alastair said. ‘Of course, those are full of contradictions, and sometimes racist assumptions about creatures that aren’t evil or dangerous, but protected indigenous cultures from colonizers. But a story about a witch would likely be documented.’

‘Can we see these journals?’ Lucie asked. ‘I’m guessing your ancestor didn’t know much about how she did it, but he must have known what she used to fight him.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘My father has them.’

Alastair couldn’t face his father, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, even if needed to. He felt tired and empty now where he was somewhat safe, but he suspected he’d fall apart if he had to confront his father. He definitely didn’t want Cordelia to have to talk to him. For a long time, she’d idolized him, but now that she knew the truth, and knew how it had affected him, she was angry.

‘Your father could ask for them,’ Thomas suggested to Lucie. ‘Will has known him for some time. Or perhaps he can ask uncle Jem to talk to Elias.’

Alastair wasn’t sure his father would listen. He wasn’t sure what to think, what to expect from his father now. He hadn’t seen him since he left, not outside his memories and nightmares. He didn’t know what his father was up to, and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was, Jem was still trying, Jem never gave up on anyone. But Alastair had given up a long time ago.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To be seen, Part Eight.

Warnings : idiots in love

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your feedback. We're near the end, I think.

Chapter One ; Chapter Two ; Chapter Three ; Chapter Four ; Chapter Five ; Chapter Six ; Chapter Seven

----

You’d missed work, you found as you were scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain on the counter, listening to Anna as she babbled about a date she’d had.

‘The guy was built, you know. Nice abs. Not like Benny, of course, but still. Nice. Anyway …’

Wait. Stop. Rewind. You turned around and carefully asked :

‘Did you just compare your date to Benny ?’

‘No,’ She corrected. ‘I compared his abs to Benny’s abs.’

‘Do you do that often ?’

She shrugged as she continued to make a cocktail, and you were left staring at the back of her head. You didn’t dwell on it, up until Linda told you over the phone you needed to come to Benny’s next fight because without Anna, Frankie and Benny for the drinks after that, it was just Santi, Will, Jessie and her and it wasn’t as much fun.

‘Wait, why isn’t Benny celebrating his own fights ?’ You asked, the phone stuck between your shoulder and your ear as you were trying to cook without chopping one of your fingers off.

‘He’s got a girl now, and let’s just say you don’t want to be in the same room as them when they make out after the game.’

You made a face.

‘Anyway, yeah. Frankie’s got shit to figure out and Anna has been so grossed out the first time she saw Benny almost having sex with his girlfriend in public she stopped coming.’

You put the knife down.

‘Wait, it can’t be that bad.’

‘Not in my opinion, but you know I like it a bit kinky. Maybe Anna doesn’t.’

You didn’t answer, doubt slowly creeping into your mind, almost groaning to the thought that Benny could be the Mr Bingley to your own personal Jane. You had to turn your attention back to the conversation when Linda begged :

‘Please, come to the next fight.’

You couldn’t. It wasn’t that you couldn’t clear your schedule, it was that Jessie and you hadn’t seen each-other yet. Your relationship was strained, to say the least. Hell, you hadn’t even called James and he was your best friend. Things with Santi weren’t peachy either: you weren’t quite back to the easy dynamic you’d had before everything, even though you were on speaking terms. And there was the small matter of Frankie, who didn’t show up to the fights at the moment but, given your luck, would decide to come cheer Benny the night you decided to come too. You were about to tell Linda just that when Will knocked on your door.

‘Listen, I gotta go, Will’s already here and I’m running late.’

‘Think about it !’ Was the last thing you heard before hanging up.

Will had taken to have lunch with you once a week. You knew why he was doing that : he was trying to ease you into the idea to talk to both Jessie and Frankie. Take the first step. You weren’t quite ready. You let him do his thing, though, because he was good company and you had fun every time.

Today was no exception, up until Will admitted :

‘Frankie hasn’t been good.’

You waited. He added :

‘Wanna hear about it ?’

Despite yourself, you nodded, silently taking a sip of your beer. You were both sitting on the couch, shoulder to shoulder.

‘Well, his ex has taken a place in town. She still doesn’t know what she wants, only that she wants to be close, but it’s getting to him. He’s used to having Maria to himself an he doesn’t know how he feels about the fact that they might share custody. Besides, she’s some kind of model or something, now. Lingerie, I think. So she moves around a lot.’

Well, that’s just swell. Really boosting my self-confidence here, knowing she’s a model, you bitterly thought. You didn’t voice it, though, asking instead :

‘You know her well ?’

Will shook his head.

‘Back in the days, I never saw her much. I don’t think she likes us very much, or at least, that she likes what we represent to Frankie.’

‘What do you think she’s gonna do ?’

Will shrugged.

‘I don’t know. She moved back here, that’s a big thing. But nobody wants her to stick around if she’s not serious about this.’

You nodded, expecting what was next.

‘What are you going to do about it, Starbuck ?’

You had no answer to that.

———

As it turned out, you didn’t need to have an answer to that. You were about to take out the trash one morning a few days after your lunch with Will when you found Frankie on your porch.

You’d been imagining that moment more than you’d like to admit, but had never predicted the warmth you’d feel at the sight of him. You took your time drinking him in, taking notes of the bags under his eyes, of the way his hands were holding onto a bottle of your favorite wine like a lifeline.

‘I hope I’m not bothering you.’ He mumbled, eyes glued to the ground.

‘No.’ You croaked. ‘No you’re not.’

You both stood there, his gaze still down, yours mapping his face. Finally, you asked :

‘How long have you been standing there ?’

He rubbed his neck, face still downcast.

‘A while.’

You put the trash bag down, carefully, and, just as carefully, you reached out, taking the bottle away from his grasp and setting it next to the bag.

‘I’m sorry.’ He croaked.

‘Me too.’ You replied, voice watery.

He looked up at that.

‘You don’t have to be sorry for anything.’

‘Yes, I do. Frankie.’

Your fingers mapped his jaw, tentatively, as he closed his eyes at the sensation. Your other hand knocked the cap right off his head as you took a step closer and ran both hands through his hair.

‘I missed you.’ You quietly admitted.

His hands circled your waist, bringing you closer.

‘I missed you too.’ He whispered, and admitted ‘I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.’

‘Never.’ Was the only thing you said.

His forehead went to rest on yours, as he whispered :

‘We need to talk.’

‘Yeah.’

None of you let go, though. You tentatively brought your lips to his. His response was intense. Suddenly your back was against the wall, in your house.

‘I want … I mean … We need tot talk …’ He mumbled against your lips, as his hands were everywhere.

You hummed as you tugged on his shirt. He put his hands on your hips, pushing himself away from you.

‘We need to talk.’ He repeated.

‘I don’t want to.’ You admitted. ‘I’m happy. I can touch you. You’re here.’

His hands tightened on your hips as his lips found yours again. This time, the kiss was slow, tender. When he parted from you, he brought his mouth to your temple and whispered :

‘I’ve been an idiot.’

So, you were talking. He kept going :

‘I wanted you by my side. I wanted you with me every step of the way but I didn’t want to burden you with all that. I didn’t realize I was doing everything wrong.’

He took your face in both his hands and, looking into your eyes, admitted :

‘I’m still scared that you’re gonna find out how much bagage I have and leave me.’

Something clouded his eyes, then. Something that looked like fear.

‘We’re still a thing, right ?’ He asked, his voice tentative.

‘Frankie, we just made out like horny teenagers.’

‘Yeah, but …’

You cut him off, whispered, as one of his thumbs went to caress one of your cheekbone :

‘Of course, we’re still a thing.’

And then, as an afterthought, something to lighten the mood, you added :

‘My father wants a word with you, though.’

That was definitely fear you saw in Frankie’s eyes.

-------------------

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Chapter 14 (Witcher of the Night)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 13.1 (PREVIOUS CHAPTER)

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: NSFW. 18+ Geralt tried his best to resist. With Destiny sitting on her throne, utterly anticipating for how the witcher would react to your rut. She won the game this time because Geralt of Rivia was a lone man who couldn't say no to a woman who was thirsty for what the Djinn has held her in, especially when this woman was you.

Warnings: Size kink? Cockwarming? Insecure reader. Unprotected sex but no worries because it's Geralt? The long awaited smut. Smol tittie reader? (Respect to the big tittie committee, please do donate some to us!) Frustrated Geralt and reader. Wet Geralt? He's in the tub okay! 😂💕 Loss of virginity. NSFW. 18+. Explicit words. They’re both in a rut on this one. This is basically just smut before the plot shifts.

Words: 7.8k

A/N: STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM NOW WE HERE 😎 GET WRECKED, MIDGET! Also, SCREAM FOR ME, BB'S! I know y'all are waiting for this moment to shine! xD I've realized that the next smut after this is more explicit than Chapter 14. So, get ready for that as well. Most GIF’s are from (demivampirew) 💕

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi 

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Geralt's touches nearly pacified the scathing heat surging through your body. Your head that was nuzzling in between his neck helps soothe the pain. Howbeit, with Geralt; he was feeling rather tormented especially when the simple intimacy was winding the witcher up in a very hellish way.

The tip of your nose brushing against that part of his neck that had him turning rigid was driving him insane. Just your nose perched in the curvatures of his neck made the tent even more bigger, thoroughly agrestal and waiting to be unshackled from its pound.

Your satisfied sighs, breath that brushed and tickled his skin had received a deep timbre of warning from the man whom you were precariously desiring for. The way your breath touched his skin made his jaw clench so tight as he brought you up stairs, surrounding you in his rugged arms that you also wanted to kiss, wondering how strong it looks like once he was disrobed.

You never had seen Geralt in the raw. The way his clothes strains on top of his Herculean body was enough vision that he was utterly jacked; shredded and a man whom made your reticence plummet down the sewers like it has never been there before, the sexual longing and curiosity filling the void of lechery that has been furtively hidden and was now growing in absolute masses because of how one man can ruin that sobriety you have been holding dear.

When you were gently dropped down to your feet, torrid kisses and passionate touches were expected; but the way he'd stepped away to tell you that you needed a bath to take the heat away had your head turning hotter from how he wasn't dealing with your ache just like the way you wanted him to.

It was better if he joined, you asked him that but his silence was enough of an answer that he wouldn't despite of how you've noticed the wolf that rested in between his leather pants, waiting to be released from its cage and find relief in between that hollow cave you've been dying to be visited at.

"Midget..." the white haired witcher was belligerent as he seethed, giving you a frown because of how uncooperative you were becoming; turning hostile as much as you can get.

Geralt took a step closer, his actions appearing to be quite the contrary of his words when he'd tried to grab onto the hem of your sweater before you immediately jerked away; maddened for your wishes to be dismissed like he wasn't feeling the same way. You were desperate now. You understood and knew what relief that the pain needed to take.

"Stop touching me! I'm not going to undress myself in front of you, Geralt! I want you! Not a bath!" you loudly snapped, voice definitely ear-piercing by how you wanted to be followed; shaking the tranquil night away from your antagonism.

The way you've jerked away from him had dropped down more frustration to himself and to you as well. You've wanted nothing but to be in his arms, kissing him, touching anywhere you haven't touched, exploring the deepest depths of him that you haven't discovered. Geralt lowly groaned, his mouth in a tight lour that simply tells you he was utmost pissed-off from your resistance.

"Cease the mulish act even just for tonight!" he barked rather furiously, teeth gritted together with his eyebrows tightly curved in a way that alarmed you that he seemed to also be in pain; struggling with the appetite he seemed to be famished with, the cravings he desired standing before him whom also had the same wishes in her mind.

"Oh! now, I'm the one stubborn?! Why don't you do it for yourself too, Mr. stubborn-pants!? Why don’t you cease the mulish act even just for tonight, huh?!" you sent a snark, glaring back at the infuriated witcher. His eyes were burning in aggravation and midnight, dilated in a process of telling you he was in mania. Carnal manias. Geralt emitted a feral growl; in distress for himself, what was happening to him and also to your inflexible decisions.

"---and also cease the fucking crabbiness!" he snarled out loud.

The heat stirring below your belly wasn't helping his exasperation towards the situation at hand. His enraged demeanor stirring a strong prurient desire that sat between your legs, making you cross them together as you've continued your narks; trying to get under his skin. Literally or figuratively.

Your nose was flaring and so was his, emotions riling up your mind as you truthfully snapped the grudging feelings out in the open; freely for Geralt to hear and react upon.

"Stop caring like you're actually fond of me when you're not!"

"You're in pain!" the white haired witcher was quick to bark, hands on his sides and tightening them into tight fists as he mindlessly raked your ungraceful form; dilated pupils and your legs crossed like the heat was starting to pool down your pants. You were aroused alright.

Hence, Geralt knew that, sensed that. He could smell you from afar and the scent that naturally dripped from you was far more better than the Lemon and Peony he'd been thoroughly accustomed with.

It was heating him up; a lot more than he ever felt, if that was even possible.

You've given him a black look, teeth clenched together as you were hopping mad. The words that came out of your mouth seeming to be a sudden slip of your tongue.

"It's all your genie's fault and I'm blaming the Djinn again for even letting me fall for you hard because apparently, in your oh-so-silent witcher perspective; all that I’m feeling had magical or supernatural explanations! Thank you for letting me realize that, sir! I really needed that subtle rejection!"

The witcher blinked, his stance thoroughly livid. Back tense and piping warm as his heated gaze was solely on your enraged, elfin self. Your candor stirring and kindling with the fire that was sipping through his veins, wanting nothing but to strafe your lips with passionate kisses he'd fantasized about, exploring fascinating chasms and cavities that has never been traversed yet.

You were hot under the collar, completely seething as you've given him the most nasty lour you could. Still, being pigheaded from what you wanted, trying to furiously explain to him that you needed a different kind of relief that involved intercourse and not a lame bath. He couldn't help but try to soothe his displeasure by fluttering his amber eyes shut, controlled breathing slipping through his flaring nose as he lowly seethed.

"You need to calm down!---Stop shouting."

Your indignant self was awakening something barbarous within him, violently rousing the thirst that has been there from the start and he was certain that if you push harder, he may never be able to control.

Not anymore.

Severe profanities tripped out of your tongue, the profound sensations and feelings consuming you too much; more so difficult to handle as the clock ticks by with Geralt who stood maddened and raging with such desire that he appeared to be in denial about. His glowing amber eyes piercing through the piety of your soul, begging nothing but to corrupt you in any way despite of his refusal to accept.

"Don't go all alpha-shit on me, Geralt! I'm shouting because I'm in pain! I'm fucking frustrated, sad, weirdly thrilled, very infuriated because of your foolishness and I don't even know the fuck why!"

Your sudden impiety had the witcher cocking his head to the side, feeling his leather pants grow tighter by how you've spat those words with such a harsh tone when he shouldn't be feeling things by being cursed back by a midget who he'd seen to be vindicated and a little bit demented for his sanity.

"I know you're in pain!" Geralt fumed, heavily swallowing the discomfort from his thrilled, angered excitement for what was about to come.

You've growled, sounding rather a bit dinky for the latter like a kitten who was livid and trying to scratch a big dog. If you were trying to be intimidating, then it was totally a failure because it only got him more charmed than he ever was before.

"You don't know that, Geralt! Because, it's not happening to you!"

He angrily shook his head, heavily marching to where you stood till he was looming before you like a lion to its prey, utterly intimidating as his gaze was smoldering your core. The dampness of your panties making you wary of Geralt's effect on you when he isn't even doing anything but be mad. It was nutty to even feel aroused from his lambasting; getting thrilled and excited by his livid state? You were probably going bonkers.

"It is!" the enraged, white haired witcher roared, peering down at you as your feet ceaselessly stepped backwards till your spine hit a wooden; storage cabinet that was a lot higher than you, he trapped you in between his presence and the cabinet. Nonetheless, still galvanized for his fit of pique.

You were spitting false assumptions to his face because you never know what forbidding and rapturous sensations you were giving him. Hence, it was like you both were sharing each other's anger and frustrations. Your breath hitched when his abrasive, thick fingers caught your hips as he thoroughly hunched down to your level. The haze in his Aurum eyes making you catch a breath as a spark of flame utterly triggered the enthusiasm.

"I can feel what you feel and it's driving me fucking insane!"

Before you even know it, his rough padded fingers brushed onto your heated skin; oblivious of his ardent fingers that has slipped under your sweater, swiftly hauling you on top of the cabinet with ease as it felt a loud thud from his abrupt, hurried gestures.

"Geralt!" you loudly shrieked when he carried you; eyes bulging out of its eye sockets, not due to fear but utmost jubilant that you were ceasing yourself from grinning back at the glaring witcher because your carnal self was loving where the crossness was heading. Yet, you still chose to kindle with the raging fire that he had in him, stirring the witcher up more than you could ever do; bringing it out of him for you to succeed.

"That's bullshit! What are we? soulmates? a freakin' soulmate AU? Feeling what I feel like our hearts are connected? Some fantasy fanfic where you magically become my destiny when I somehow teleported in your world?!"

You were now in-level with him; close enough, but he still had the leverage to look down on your face. The gaze in his eyes intensified, to the point that it was telling you how much he wanted to ravish you in so many ways.

With the way how you were smart mouthing him and the desperation in your sentences was working him up more than how those women in the brothels do. Just one word from you could wind him up in sinful ways.

Geralt tightly kept his pretty mouth shut, his gaze too penetrating as you could feel your heat twitching and moist to the point that you were soaking in ways you've never known it would despite of how you've not used your fingers in this one. Which explains how Geralt's presence was too overwhelming for a midget's heart and vagina.

Your words were obviously a conflict to how you've uncorked the lock of your legs, slightly unfastening them open till Geralt took a brooding step close to fill in the gap. The proximity rather fatal for your palpitating heart and raging fire that surrounded you both.

His fingers teased and witlessly glided along your imperfectly pouched belly, making you softly gasp from his touches as you've both shared heaving breaths. Your eyes connected with his in a way that got you wanting to hyperventilate from the choking tension you both have given to each other. You couldn't help yourself but shiver from Geralt's languid thumbs that brushed along the tubby curvatures of your waist; along the parts that has given you self-doubt because it was a body flaw that was quite difficult to erase.

Your mind wasn't thinking straight. It was in a whirlwind that no any other man could give with only his eyes staring straight into your soul. Tantalizing, wild and unchaste. The small stumble of words was enough to give Geralt the upper hand, knowing that only one touch was enough to make you feel like jello as he stood in between those unlatched legs of yours, waiting to be taken in any way that won't make you form any coherent words nor make you remember your own name.

"Stop...stop staring at me like that. You don't even like me that deep; for you to know what I'm feeling right now,"

You've avoided looking at him in the eye, your abashed state still passing through every now and then because it was what makes you, yourself. The timorous tone of your voice sounded titillating in the witcher's perspective as it stirred him up even more, wanting and urgently waiting to be free from the leather constrains that his pants locked him in.

His tender, teasing touches heightened your senses as it was the only thing you focus on as it brushed against your skin like a pencil to its paper, light and delicate. You were heedless of his other hand that moved under your sweater, his rough thumb and index finger giving you a spark of tingles when he'd lightly held your chin, ushering you to stare into his glowing amber eyes that captured your heart since the night he saved you.

The dimples of his nose caressed your plump cheeks, nuzzling the side of your face that gave such delectation of shivers through your spine; his breath was warm and impending as it fanned your ear, turning your body stiff as he gravelly whispered so closely to your ear.

"You don't get to decide nor tell me that you know what I'm feeling when you're uncertain of the verity," he apprised, taking a brief pause as you could feel the tickling tip of Geralt's nose nestling between the back of your ear, ponderously breathing in your scent that makes him feel like he was in paradise.

You could feel your heart thumping out of your chest, the hurried heartbeat of your heart ringing in your ears as it felt like molten lava pouring down on you both when Geralt seem to finally give in to your wishes.

He was a man, an amorous one, indeed. Hence, a tiny woman whom he was smitten with? Begging for a nooky? Well, why would he even be too obstinate to reject such bliss?

Your eyes immediately fluttered closed, teeth biting the insides of your cheeks as you were utterly thrilled. The voices who had been whispering inside your head has died down from the moment you both have shared the peeve out of the boiling kettle. Breathing turned erratic, thoughts quickly moving down south as Geralt heavily breathed against your ear.

You knew you were done for when he'd fondled with the hem of your sweater; those thick, sleek fingers of his, slithering higher and higher till you could never think straight; towards a place no one has ever did just yet and you were gladly letting him explore you in places you have never been touched.

His name clouded inside your head like a bell ringing from a church. Geralt's comforting warmth seething through your senses as you've felt him plant one soft kiss on the back of your ear, igniting a sensual whimper out of you that got him heavily breathing. The witcher's mind pooling with debauched thoughts for you.

And so, he let the palpable sensations control him for once; maybe not once, if he was given the chance again, letting his emotions get the best of him as he finally let go and like a warning, he rasped; "---you are asking a lot from me that not any other person could seek for a witcher,"

"---Yet, here I am; standing before you, succumbing to your wishes and trying to think of ways to help you overcome your struggles despite of knowing the repercussions, midget."

Based on how he'd let his gorgeous head fall in between the crevice of your neck, tempestuously giving your skin starved, open mouth kisses; those adorable fangs you've adored having its way as it was giving your neck a delicate bite every once in a while, you knew you were in for a delightful night.

The Djinny-Djinn-Djinn would surely be worth it.

Warm water pooled just below the lower parts of your bodies. Bare bodies submerged beneath till it stopped before your chests. Awning whatever it is that was needed to be sheltered. The abrupt reserved demeanor dawning on you every now and then when you were reminded why you've acted the way you were before, like a desperate animal that was needed breeding. But, the pain that stung in your chest was enough reminder that it was a needed reason for Geralt to just do it.

You have covertly imagined how Geralt would be crafted. Heedful to be expecting a brobdingnagian man molded like one of Michael Angelo's fine pieces or a painting made by Vincent Vann Gogh; utterly a prepossessing sight which needed to be reminded for yourself that you still needed to breathe.

Geralt of Rivia's birthday suit could wholly take a woman or man's breath away; you were gawking and he'd caught your sly peepers, gaping at the lofty man who was undressing while you sat in the end of the tub has got him humming in interest.

The vision of himself who was stripping his clothes off brought you in hell and also in heaven. He had his back turned away as he peeled his black tunic off him in one go; the gesture sucking all of your breath in your lungs, giving you a harsh whiplash when you've seen his wide shoulders and his sinewy upper body in the flesh, your heat pulsing with just the image of the witcher who was shedding his clothes off in idle; the zeal growing much more impatient as minutes pass by.

You were going to get wrecked tonight.

Your faint clearing of your throat resonated in the room when you've seen his fingers move through the front of his pantaloons, never wanting to snap your head away because seeing him strip fascinates you in so many ways; marveling at the sight of his chiseled, stark naked form. Your alter ego asking God how he was perfectly imperfect with those disfigurements that has wallowed up his fiborous back.

It was a wide-reaching scar; like a Megalodon shark has sunk its teeth along his shoulders and ribs. The mark made you give him another once over before he pulled his pants down straight off, making you snap your head away due to the blush that wanted to burn your face. Your fingers itched, in a way that it was pleading for you to brush your soft fingers against the scars that obviously appeared to be painful. You couldn't help but gnaw on your lower lip because of the despairing feeling that suddenly crept up your chest from how he was thoroughly scarred, imagining what happened to the witcher when he had it.

You were weak-kneed. The batter of bath water slightly swaying you when he'd finally walked in the tub. But, your shyness was simply manhandled by the witcher himself when you've heard him hum in amusement, a small grin curving his luscious lips when you seemed to be stilled from hearing him sitting beside you. Those buff arms on either side as you could feel his ardent gaze on you, forbearing your abrupt timidness that you were slowly trying to process the idea that he was bathing together with you, thoroughly stark naked as you were also the same way. 

Geralt was silently hoping you weren't thinking about leaving him alone after all of that, bearing with his raging boner has been quite a torture.

It took minutes after before he literally hauled you over his thick, slightly unlatched, brawny legs. You were tormenting him in ways he could never imagine as his hardened girth twitched under the warm water. There was a bashful squeal that erupted out of you when you were manhandled by the strong witcher, sitting you in front of him as you were greeted with his hirsute chest that gave your cunt a thump. He was also welcomed by your perky, right-sized breasts and a glowing cicatrix with the image of his medallion that rested in between the valley of your chest; while his, shone beneath the moonlight seeping through the opened windows.

Your diffident self was immediately forgotten with just one touch of Geralt's fingers brushing over your mark. The scorching heat now seemed to be blistering with one thing in both of your minds.

Coition.

"Thought you had other ways to help me?" you skittishly questioned in between torrid, passionate kisses you were sharing with him. Those calloused fingers of his rested and raked behind your nape, eager fingers slipping through your locks as yours fell on his thatch of hair on his prominent, wide chest; tenderly caressing over the medallion he wore.

Only a low, hoarse and short grunt was said. The way his mouth moved and brushed along the soft pillows of your lips was utterly enticing, perfectly molding against yours in a fervid way. His warm, febrile tongue slipping inside your mouth of its own volition; making you catch your breath as he'd lapped your stilled tongue. His vigor seeming to be over the top as you tried leveling with his fervor as well.

His torrid kisses was enough to make you forget your own name. What more if he was finally pummeling inside of you?

"I do." Geralt gruffly murmured, his succulent lips trailing from your side of your lips before you've took his face in between your palms, urging his vermillion to give you more passionate kisses that you were greedy for.

He'd willingly gave you another, his lips falling in between yours as you've given him another scalding smooch that unconsciously made you mewl when you've felt the tip of his tongue brushing against your lips and teeth. An unconscious nibble of his lower lip got the witcher growling beneath his chest, his other hand tightening around your hip while the one raking behind your hair, pushing your face further to his. Those simple touches making you struggle for breath; momentarily breaking away to look into those diluted, darkened amber eyes.

"Doesn't seem like it, Rivia. You're falling for the bard's suggestion," you grinned like a Cheshire cat, heaving breaths as you sat on his lap. Your forehead delicately falling on his temple when you've licked your swollen vermillion from all the bites it took.

His hot breath fanned your lips, nails tenderly scratching along the skin of your nape as he ceased his ministrations to admire the small, naked woman in his arms. He never imagined for this to happen so quick; like it was even meant to be because of how right it felt. Geralt was sure you'd be all faint-hearted once the effects of your scar dies down; if it ever would. Then, you were back with your abashed self; entirely blushing to even realize that he had finally bed you all night.

As long as you could remember everything. He was alright.

Your heart was palpitating; feeling overwrought for the words that wants to be frankly said. You beseeched, "I also thought---you...you didn't want me?---"

You've fidgeted with the medallion that rested upon his chest, his hand on your hips leaving to take your chin to cease you from saying anything further as he slightly moved his face away from yours. His features soft and understanding, "I didn't say that. Never. " pause. "---you are certainly unaware of how much I want you, midget. Too much that it's frightening and utmost perilous,"

Those lips of his that you've been kissing simply lifted into a small beam, making your heart flutter and feel ways that you could never fathom. You carry a torch for those scars that laid upon his face. Some were miniscule, difficult to notice unless you were staring up close and some were deep that probably held some menacing experiences.

Your delicate fingers glided down the pockmark he had that rested on the side of his ribs. The wonders in your head being filled by the experience your hand can get. Geralt let you, his scars never fazing him nor you as well. Just a touch for your curiosity to be quenched.

You've heard him inhale a deep breath, the simple action making his chest vibrate beneath your fingers as another hum slipped past through. Both hands grabbed onto your hip, ushering you closer to him in a proximity that weakened your legs. His hardened cock; feeling it veiny, protruding and thick, resting in between your damp folds that made your breath hitch as you've finally felt how he was gifted within his pantaloons.

Hence, it made you bite the insides of your cheeks. A question inside your mind as to how it would fit inside your damn vagina.

Geralt noticed you stuck in a daydream that he ought to withdraw yourself from, you've felt his breath glazing along your collarbone, languidly puckering his pillowy lips along your skin with every pass of his breath. The honeyed sound that leaves his lips whenever he pecked, sending jolts of heat up your spine as he took his wondrous time to worship the body you somehow have been insecure about.

He knew your low self-esteem; probably even have his own issues as well so that was why he could understand. If he would focus on how you've tried covering yourself up when he firstly sat in the tub, those eyes of yours demanding for him to not be ashamed of what sat in front of him. Geralt instantly knew and the white haired witcher planned to glorify all night, if you'd let him.

"That scent. Hmm. Your tangy scent makes me forget of what and who I really am," the latter roughly whispered, his lips on your skin; savoring your salty, sugary and rich taste against his tongue as he brushed his lips through the depths of your chest, ending in that glowing Cicatrix that made you audibly gasp before his sweet lips.

"Geralt---" you salaciously and softly whimpered, his name sounding raunchy when you did so. Irritable pain punctured through the symbol, like a spear being stabbed through your chest for a hundred times with no explanations why it was making you suffer like this, "The pain---It's not helping---It's just turning worse---I can't take it anymore,"

As the pain tripled, Geralt halted his smooth kisses that he'd wanted to give on the mount of your perky breasts. Your eyes demanding for him to satiate each other's cravings, aggressively, passionately or whatever could quench the lust. You were begging.

"Take me," you've raised your hands and grabbed onto the side of his pretty, white head. Peepers dazed and overflowing with obscurity, "---Claim me. Over and over, I don't care. Just take the heat and pain away,"

Geralt of Rivia was no angel nor any knight that honored the dignity of one deprived woman. He was a hunger-stricken man who yearned for all of what you could offer and if he had the chance to honor your chastity to be corrupted by the witcher himself; he wholeheartedly would.

That was what he would just do. Corrupt you in so many ways till his hunger would be sated. But, he doubted it would be slaked.

From the moment you were in pain and also pleading to be ravished, it didn't take him two darn seconds to continue his onslaught on peppering your breasts with searing kisses that gave you a shiver, his wet tongue hiking down a trail around your areolas before taking your nub in his god-forsaken mouth, suckling on your nipples like a starving man.

"U-Ugh, shit." you've quietly moaned in the back of your throat as you’ve taken a sharp intake of breath, utterly lewd for anyone to hear as you held onto Geralt's wide, muscular shoulders; giving them a gentle squeeze while your eyes fluttered in exstacy. The image of him who suckled your teat was utmost impure for your once chastised thoughts.

A moaning mess was what you've become, the slight hitches of your mouth whenever he'd licked your nub after his rough suckling made his stone hard girth twitch beneath you. One shift of your hips was enough for the witcher to be grumbling a grunt from the action that has made his cock feel your moistened heat which started to grind onto him mindlessly.

"Geralt," you've whined in the back of your throat as your hips moved in its own accord, his thick girth that rested in between your cunt being rubbed by its own and you were stroking in a way that could get the little nub finding the release it wanted.

He was sucking through your neck, making you whimper as his thick, calloused fingers went straight to knead at your teat that needed attention, his hands seeming to be larger than your breasts but he certainly didn't mind as he was loving the feeling of them that rested beneath his palms. Geralt lowly grunted beneath your ear, sucking on a spot that got you sighing as another lewd plaint slipped between your lips, mouth slightly opening. The coil starting to build up in between your heat.

His fingers ceased you from continuing so, making you whine in complaint as you were already feeling an orgasm approaching. Though, he may want you gushing around his girth and not through bathwater or humping him in the middle of the tub.

The hunk of a witcher passionately kissed you one more time, fervently devouring your lips like he would chump them for his sate. You weakly moaned in between his assaulting lips, tightly shutting your eyes closed as you feel euphoria surround yourselves by whatever natural deed that was happening from the both of you. 

He grabbed onto the base of his reddened, swollen cock; lining the bulbous head on your seeping entrance. The water from the bath and your position would probably help you for your first time. Geralt went on in kissing you, never breaking apart as he'd dragged his leaking tip to your wet mound and throbbing clit, flicking his tongue inside of your mouth as he'd lowly hummed out of his chest, vibrating your breasts as it was closely rested together with his, sending ripples through your soul.

His girth pressed along the insides of your heated cunt before ceasing on your entrance, it took only one tight grope of Geralt's hair for him to deeply groan, letting him take control and delve inside, his size ginormous filling every depth and fissure that ignited a kittenish moan which certainly made him whimper once he was abnormally tightly snuggled inside.

Geralt felt like he was over the moon; your grip bringing himself into a delirium that made his mind shake, choking in his own breath when all he could ever think of was you, alone. Y/N. His midget. The way your mouth tasted. Your warmth. A solace that only you could give. More, he wanted and more of you he would take.

You hold him like a vice; your mound choking his girth from how delightful you felt around him. The idea of being sexually connected with Geralt in this way was totally a different feeling, bringing you in rhapsodies of pleasure that you didn't know existed in your life.

He was fully sheathed inside before you even know it. Too distracted by his kisses that you don't feel any ache from being filled to the brim; expecting the unexpected from that experience. His hardened cock that has slithered inside you felt uncomfortable at first, though it seemed to have no problem with slipping in because you were too aroused and wet. Good. Geralt didn't want you feeling anymore pain and only hoped for your pleasure.

You've took your time to adjust, wiggling your hips every now and then; making you slightly wince because it had a pinch of ache when you tried to move. So much for feeling no pain. Your squirming got the witcher humming in displeasure; speechless and observant of what you were feeling. Geralt patiently waited despite of the howling feeling inside his chest; wanting nothing but to begin his corrupting, yet he respected your adjustments. Both of you were throbbing in each other's hold, before you've shakily got on your position, firmly on your knees, hands on either side of his shoulders as he was intensely staring into your eyes; all darkened, piercing and libidinous like a hawk while he waited for your next move.

Your hips got the best of you, wantonly stroking in a way that made the both of you whimper in sheer gratification for trying to get comfortable with the way he fits inside of you. The way you'd slowly lift yourself up before tormentingly coming back down, his jutting veins that rubbed you in the right way as your mouth went ajar when his length and size stretched you in pure exaltation.

Geralt's focal point was on you and your mound that choked and clasped around him, intently eyeing how your face contorted in such rapture that got him adoring the coltish mewl that emitted out of you, the way you've concentrated at the blurry image of his meaty girth that has been swallowed by your pulsing heat, he knew he would beg for another round.

Your wanton pace was torturing him; more so than hunting a beast in the continent that was difficult to find. He hoarsely groaned in the back of his throat, doing his very best to not turn you around and have his way with you. You bit your lip out of loving how he filled you to the rim, uttering out another weak, sensual moan that got the witcher feeling the pining rather agonizing while he silently watched you take your time.

But, he couldn't take it anymore. He was close to sputtering out profanities from how it was growing more intolerable as minutes go by.

"Fuck." he suddenly spat, sounding like a throaty whimper as you languidly sunk back into his twitching girth for a couple more times, his amber eyes blazing with the need to brutally ravish.

"---You are planning to give me an early death,"

Which got the witcher abruptly grabbing onto your waist, pulling himself out of you as you were suddenly turned around in the bath, your back hitting the edge of the tub as you loudly shrieked, whining for the lack of being filled thereof and also for the slight pain that his prompt actions got you.

"Well, that...that hurt." you honestly whined at the witcher, curious peepers gazing up at him as he moved in front of you, his fingers taking in your knees as he spread them widely apart. The water splurging around you as he'd move, seemingly fascinating to see how largely built his body was, before feeling his robust fingers on your waist, pulling you closer to his body; your back slightly slanted before gasping when he'd fervently entered, starting to consume you again and again.

"N-Nevermind. The pain--Ugh, probably's---Ugh, fuck! Geralt!---worth it," have been coyly moaned out loud, your face scrunched out in utter ecstacy as Geralt began to avidly pummel inside you, his girth violently ravishing your soaking mound with sharp thrusts of his hips.

His body was making you feel tiny compare to his gargantuan built. The way he situated himself above you, a hand tightly clasped onto your pinguid hip while the other rested on your side, his sweaty and earthy scent choking you as he drove you instantly to heaven.

The rousing sounds of his low grunts and hushed whimpers was enough to take you on edge. You've never...ever can tell how it was music to your ears as it also does the same to Geralt, your moans and mewls were bringing him to utopia, his heavy weight thoroughly crushing your bones apart no matter how he was helping himself up.

You didn't know you had a kink where you've wanted his body crushing you down; apparently, it was a new fact that you knew would instigate the fire and excitement. A size kink, then.

He went on with his ceaseless, wild, hammering of his girth. Your arms closely embracing him tight in a way that tells him you didn't want to let go; only wanting him to surround you in his warmth forever. Your palms gliding down his wide back till you've brushed your fingers along his own scar that you've handled oh-so-delicately, urging Geralt to utter a lewd audible grunt. He was congenial to your mushy touches; new to the gentleness he was receiving rather than ruthless force.

Thusly, it was entirely spiffing as it came with the freedom of impaling you till you were thrashing against his arms.

Your orgasm was quickly building up as you clenched around him, feeling his lips giving your neck wet, open mouthed kisses as he deeply whimpered. All-consuming changing his strokes as he pummeled yet again, holding onto your legs to surround himself better as he thrust brutishly, hitting a spot that loudly made you gasp, curving your spine as your breasts brushed against his fleecy chest, his medallion seeming to be in contrast to the heat that your mark has been giving.

This was what the voices inside your head wanted. The question is, why? For what reason?

"Geralt!" Your mouth was scrunched in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed together in a frenzy as you gripped onto Geralt's hair a little more tighter than you intended to, earning a low murmur of your nickname as he deathlessly shove and shove his hips, reaching you both in a place that'll give you what you needed and wanted.

A mind-wrecking orgasm.

One last drive of his hips, hitting the spot that uncoiled the havoc burning down below. You've seen the stars, maybe even the whole universe as you've obscenely moaned out with your mouth ajar, your orgasm making your eyes roll at the back of your head as you shuddered against his hold. Though, Geralt didn't stop there when you've continued to milk him whole. The swashing of bath water resonating the whole room and your amatory whimpers of delight came with his as he tries to reach his peak.

His thrusts turned sloppy and you knew he was close to coming. Your body was writhing against his, your cunt utterly sensitive as he nailed you over and over with his mouth-watering girth. Your body squirmed below him, moaning his name like a chant as it was the only word you could ever form.

You could feel another burst of bliss that spread through you as Geralt took one last sloppy thrust to your mound, lately realizing that he had slipped a hand between you both, urging you into another orgasm as he flicked and rubbed your clit; your second orgasm letting you emit a rather loud, noisy moan that would get any porn star shunning away because of how sensuous it sounded.

That last moan really got the witcher spewing out his load inside of you, also sending a witless guttural grunt when he came after you, ceasing once he rode out the orgasm with several sloppy thrusts before you've feebly and shakily reach out to grab onto the side of his sweaty and wet face as he slowly came to a stop, ushering him to look at you.

You've felt his come spread through you, summery and utterly pleasurable for the glow of your Cicatrix to be twinkling against the candle light. You were trying to catch your breath as Geralt also does to do so.

Your half-lidded eyes met his still diluted ones, the glow inside of it thoroughly comforting to your debauched form. The afterglow of sex making you feel spent but slightly quelled from your carnal gluttony.

You could feel his breathing turn even in less than a minute; the vulgar act washing away from how quick he seemed to got a hold of himself as your fingers brush against his temples, delicately wiping away the drop of sweat with your finger as the simple gesture was enough to make Geralt lean onto your touch.

He'd slightly turned his head, his nose nuzzling against your cheeks as this newfangled closeness was making him feel relaxed than he can ever get; having such a type of blessed peace that he may never imagine it to be, "Don’t worry," he huskily reassured, his thick fingers unclasping the hold he had on your waist, leaving a slight bruise that you obviously didn't mind.

You've heard the water splurge, his fingers lightly grasping your chin, turning you to look into his earnest eyes that was filled with sudden pique within it, "I'm---" his whole explanation was quickly cut off with a coaxing, soft tone of yours; doleful of what he wanted say. 

"Shhh. I-I know,"

A breathless, depleted midget laid beneath the witcher. His soft cock still inside your sensitive mound but paid no heed as you warmed him up. His face etched of bliss, though it appeared emotionless. Well, what man would be glum when he had a lay?

Geralt contemplated whether or not to pull out of you as he'd raked your naked body that stowed beneath him, those divine looking bites that rested upon your neck and even on your chest when he'd worship your body that no one ever had. Even so, he wasn't satisfied. Well, when did the witcher even been?

"Hmm." he fascinatingly hummed, eyes burning your skin as you watched him admire your midget of a body that he somehow find utterly exquisite. 

His enthralling amber landed on yours, his eyes darkening as it was keen for more. More he wanted to take and have because of the ravenous hunger utterly palpable. The Cicatrix that was engraved on the valley of your breast still gleaming beneath the candle light; his impassioned self seeming to be shared with you as the cravings were still there, strong and unwavering.

"I may need you one more time, midget." he roughly admitted, the tine of his nose brushing against yours in a sweet caress.

The latter has his eyes fluttered closed as he sighed, his salmon colored lips dangerously close to your swollen ones as he continued to rasp, "---or maybe all night," he leaned in close to leave a soft peck to your lips that he couldn't get enough with. 

"---and the weeks after,"

He consumed your lips once again, zealously keeping the sweltering heat going as he breathlessly snogged with you. Those needy fingers of his snaking to grip along the side of your neck; his kisses growing impatient and demanding as the sound of your lips smacking together was the only thing running in your mind, the urgency quickly building up again like it never even left.

The way he began to torridly kiss you felt like you were struggling to breath. His desire in having you again feverishly lighting you up as you've instantaneously break the kiss, panting before him as he chased for your lips before you had a finger laid between them, your face in flames while you got flustered, those rough fingers ceasing from kneading your taut breast on his other hand, "Maybe---maybe, a bed is nice to be ravished on? you know, with a mattress or something soft?"

You were completely flushed. Nose scrunched as you felt your heart pounding; waiting for his answer to your suggestion. Your mind was scolding you all through out as he held his silence, aware of his semi hard on that seemed to never want to leave your cunt as he tried and hinted for another nightly ravishing between you both.

Never in your life; even back in earth that you would actually get to experience sex in the making. The idea of you and another man going at it disturbing you before because you were worried they would despise your body and how you actually looked like, entirely bare. Yet, here you were, having your virginity taken by an attractive, hot mutant who slaughters beasts for a living in their dimension.

Fortunately, you were lucky in this department because of how magically you've met him and how gloriously you've been dicked down.

You wouldn't get to forget this once the effects of the Cicatrix finally comes to its halt or probably the morning after you've slept with Geralt. Your ribald suggestions for moving in a much more comfortable place while being rode off to Neverland will probably horrify you if the idea was taken into deliberation.

"I think I may have to agree, midget." Geralt gave a soft nod of understanding, intensely staring into your eyes as he has seen the same salacious look he has been giving; simmering down his worry about the thought that you weren't in the same page as he also was.

Perhaps, beasts aren't the only thing he butchers at night and in daylight.

Geralt only wanting this to be a one time opportunity? Oh, heck no. IT’S A PRANK! He never gets satisfied! LMAO JK 😂💖 FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! Please do! Heehee! (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, bb’s!)

Taglist for WOTN: @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferblog​ @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthor​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum​, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​

[myspideysensesrtingling]

In My Way (5)

IN MY WAY: MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 6056

Warnings: a few curse words! nothing serious

Notes: things get going!! This is also my entry for @petalparker and @suncityparker's writing challenge!!!!! I had to use “do you think this is an important piece?” and it was a fun tie-in to my series so here goes! Enjoy and let me know what you think :)

Summary: You gear up for your first day of school and make friends more easily than expected. The one person you struggle to be friends with, however, is Peter himself.

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Beep. Your eyes shot open.

Beep. You didn't recognize this room; this wasn't the dormitory.

Beep. It wasn't all a dream.

You sat up and turned the alarm off before it could beep again, reveling in your realization. This was real. You lived with the Avengers at their compound and were going to school that day. This was real life.

This was your life.

The effect of the time change was overshadowed by your excitement bubbling up. You stretched like you always did as you got out of bed, you feet slowly padding over to the bathroom to start getting ready. In the shower, the warm water only exacerbated the butterflies in your stomach. You quickly popped out, dried off, and slipped into the some clothes Pepper found for you. You sported a pair of skinny jeans rolled up at the bottom with a light gray wide-neck t-shirt tucked in in the front. It was supposed to be a chilly morning, so after drying your hair that naturally fell into just the shape you wanted, you slipped on a plaid flannel and left it open in the front. Lastly, you laced up some white adidas and grabbed the basically-empty black backpack before heading out of your room and toward the kitchen.

"There you are, kiddo! I was wondering when you'd be up," Tony mumbled as fatigue from the early morning upstaged the excitement he tried to convey. Steve stood above the stovetop on the island counter directly across from him and added a good morning with a soft smile as you approached. The closer you got, the stronger the smell of pancakes, clearly drifting from the stove where Steve was cooking.

"Good morning, sir!" You replied to each man as you plopped down in the seat to the right of Tony at the big island table. Calling Tony "sir" earned quite the snort from Steve, which subsequently caused Tony to gasp and dramatically bring his hand to his chest with false offense. You just giggled, enjoying every minute of their banter.

Steve served you all up some pancakes - definitely the fluffiest and most delicious you ever tasted - and sat down on your right to eat. Everyone initially ate quietly, gobbling up what was in front of them, but somehow Tony got the idea to tell stories from when he was in high school. This didn't necessarily help ease your nerves but you loved it all the same.

"So I woke up locked in the janitors' closet with three friends who were all passed out. I have no idea how we got there!" Tony spouted. You and Steve stared off behind him where Pepper stood, arms crossed and somehow unheard by Tony. Disappointed by the lack of laughter in response to his story, Tony once again feigned hurt. "What, you don't enjoy the Tales of Tony the Tot?"

"Y/N, please don't believe that this is what high school is like," Pepper interrupted, glaring at the back of Tony's head. Already aware of his impending punishment, he pivoted in his seat slowly as if afraid to face her. "Tony, what happened to that whole 'good example' thing we talked about?"

"Well, Pep, I just thought, you know--" he sputtered out as Happy, in his usual suit and with his usual stressed urgency, approached. Tony did not hesitate to take advantage of the distraction. "Ah! Happy! Here to take the lady to school. Now Y/N. Your schedule should be waiting for you in the office. Meet Peter right at the front doors, he should be waiting for you. Scratch that - he follows my every word, so he will be there waiting for you. Call me if you need anything or if Happy tries to do anything weird," he added with a wink and smirk at Happy. Poor Happy; Tony really did love to mess with him.

"Miss, we need to go," Happy asserted, only paying attention to you.

"Most importantly," Tony continued, completely ignoring Happy, "have a great first day, kiddo!" Tony grinned down at you while Pepper smiled endearingly and nodded in agreement. He quickly squeezed your shoulder as Happy pulled you away, waving at your new parents. Happy bickered to himself as you made their way down two flights of stairs into the garage. He led the way to a black Cadillac identical to the one you rode in across the country less than 24 hours before besides the New York and custom STARK13 license plate. He opened the backseat door for you to slide in and closed it after you. He drove out of the garage and up to ground level, down the driveway and eventually to the road. You peered out the window, taking in the New York skyline as they approached the city, Queens, and your next adventure.

As usual, Peter met his two best friends, Ned and MJ, right outside Midtown's front doors. Outside the front doors was a common meeting place for students as there was a long overhang connecting it to the drop-off lane and parking lot where most kids arrived.

"Peter, remind me why we can't just go inside?" Ned asked. He knew about Peter's secret identity and the Stark internship, but Peter was holding back info on this assignment or whatever it was.

"Mr. Stark has a new girl coming in and wants me to help her out a little today."

"Lame," MJ added.

"Hey, I mean, you don't know that, right Peter?" Ned said, eyes shifting to his other friend. "Did you meet her already? How do we know who we're looking for?"

"Yeah, I met her," he said. "I'll recognize her." His mind drifted back to her, her face, her smile, her voice; though his cheeks only heated with frustration.

"Well, what's her name? What's she like? Tell us about her!" Ned babbled, always excited to meet people. Before Peter could answer him, he recognized a shiny black Cadillac pulling up. His friends followed his gaze and the group watched as Happy got out to open your door despite you already opening it on your own.

"I can open doors!" you giggled, smiling across the roof of the car at Happy standing outside the driver door. "Thank you for the ride, Happy!" Happy grinned back across the roof of the car at you, only further igniting Peter’s jealousy as he wondered how anyone could get Happy to like them.

"No problem, kid," Happy called out as you started walking toward the doors with a wave. "I'll pick you up after school. Have a great day!" With that, he slid back in the car and drove off. You stopped on the sidewalk at the edge of the overhang and looked up at the front of your new school to get a feel for the building. It was made of solid bricks with blue letters reading "Midtown School of Science and Technology" on top of the overhang with a blue and yellow logo. You took a deep breath and walked forward, almost immediately catching Peter's eye with a wave and striding toward him.

"Dude," Ned whispered, "you didn't tell us she was gorgeous?!" Peter turned and whacked his friend’s shoulder as you were close enough that you could've overheard. Peter and Ned silently fought back and forth until they saw another student stop you in your tracks.

"Hey girl, name's Flash," the boy blocking you chimed in. "You must be new, I would notice a pretty girl like you immediately." With a wink, he tried to spin around and swing his arm up, over your head, and around your shoulders. Concerned he was trying to hit you, you simply ducked under his arm, and his swift "move" failed as he spun around and lost his balance. You froze as laughs broke out of surrounding students but calmed when you determined they were primarily directed at the boy who was now flailing on the ground and trying to get up.

"Ok, I see how it is…playing hard to get. You haven't seen the last of me!" he yelped as his posse of friends pulled him away.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Ned almost shouted as you finally made her your up to the group. "I'm Ned, by the way. Peter's friend! Nice to meet you, what's your name?" Ned asked with his hand out.

"Hah, thanks. My name is Y/N, nice to meet you too." Ned was so forward, not at all like high school kids you saw in the movies. Thank goodness, you thought.

"MJ," the girl on Peter's left said with arms crossed.

"Nice to meet you, MJ," you said with an even wider smile. You were already making friends - maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You had so many questions to ask them and so desperately wanted to get to know them.

"Uh, hey Peter, thanks for agreeing to help me today," you said, your voice smooth as you addressed him.

"Yeah. Well! We should get to the office and get your schedule," Peter interjected, promptly marching to the front doors with his mission in mind. You frowned at the concrete and nodded, concerned you did something to offend the boy. Pushing the thought aside you followed the trio through the doors and into the main hallway, where you weaved through groups of kids until you eventually reached a windowed office with a sign on the door reading "Main Office."

"Ok, the lady at the desk should have your schedule," Peter mumbled. "With that you're all set. See you around," he said and turned around, his friends shrugging, waving, and following just behind him. It didn't take long for Ned to whack Peter's shoulder back. Not nearly as hard as Peter did earlier since he lacked superhuman strength, but definitely hard enough to get Peter's attention.

"What the heck, man?" Peter spit out, turning to face his friend at his locker.

"Dude, you were a serious ass," MJ said, contributing more words than she had all day.

"Yeah," Ned nodded along, "What's up with you? You've been dark and weird all day."

Right then, you passed them in the hallway as you wandered to find your first class, smiling kindly with bright eyes as you waved. Ned grinned and waved back excitedly as ever while MJ did her classic one quick wave with a nod. Peter glanced up and made eye contact with you before immediately looking back into his locker, only to be slapped again by Ned and MJ on each shoulder simultaneously.

"OW!" Peter jumped. "Stop it, you guys!"

"We'll stop it when you stop being an ass," MJ replied, taking none of his attitude.

"She seems nice, Pete. Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not," Peter dodged. "I don't know what you're talking about." The first bell rang, meaning they had five minutes to get to class. Peter turned to escape this discussion as quickly as possible and walked off in the same direction you had, thankful he didn't share his first class with his friends.

"Literally saved by the bell," Ned shouted after him with an eye roll. "We'll get to the bottom of this Parker, you haven't escaped yet!"

The first class on your schedule was Chemistry. After that, you’d go to World History, English, and Computer Science before getting a break for lunch. Lastly, you had Precalculus and P.E. You found the first classroom without much problem and found a seat at a lab bench at the front of the room. You got back up to introduce yourself to the teacher per Steve’s advice (and Tony’s mocking) and were relieved that the teacher seemed to cut you a little extra slack as a new student. As you sat back down in your seat before class, Peter walked in. You looked up with round cheeks bookending your soft smile. When his eyes found hers as he looked for a seat, they widened briefly before darting to the ground. I must've done something to upset him, you thought. Shaking his weird behavior off, you focused on taking thorough notes and paying detailed attention despite it being only syllabus day. It kept your focus all the way until the bell marking the end of class rang and students exited. Before you could even find him, Peter vanished.

Walking into your World History class after a bit of searching, you found Ned. He quickly ushered you over to the seat next to him and started up a conversation immediately.

"Is that your schedule?" he probed, grabbing the paper when you nodded. "We have this class and the next one together! MJ is in the next one with us and you have fourth period with her. Then all four of us have precalc and P.E. together after lunch!" He told you all about the teachers and their quirks until the bell rang and you immersed yourself back in your note-taking.

This continued into the next class - English - but with MJ, too. Ned continued to do most of the talking with MJ sitting quietly, but you didn't mind. Ned was entertaining and incredibly friendly. Even MJ, though not talking much, was kind and had quite the sense of humor. They helped you feel like you fit right in.

The next two classes flew by and, before you knew it, you found yourself walking out of Computer Science with MJ. MJ lead the way to the cafeteria, where you spotted the back of Ned's head and Peter's face as the two boys sat across from each other at a table. Peter once again glanced up and quickly back down when MJ caught his eye with her assertive stare.

"Do you want to go sit with them?" You prodded, knowing something was off with the group and feeling you might be the cause of it.

"Nah, Peter's being a brat," She walked directly to an open table and sat down, you following her lead while keeping an eye on Peter and Ned. "Can I draw you?”

"Uh, sure, why?"

"Dunno. I like to draw people," MJ said, already opening to a blank page and pulling out her pencil to start the sketch. "Just sit still while you eat, ok?"

The two of you ate like this for the remainder of lunch until you noticed the it was almost time for the bell to ring to tell you to go to class.

"Hey, wait. Did you want to draw me just to get me to stop talking?" You joked shakily, partially concerned it was true. MJ only snorted as you stood up and walked to Precalculus. Once there, you sat next to each other again, this time right in front of Peter and Ned. You took your same thorough notes, repeatedly drawing raised eyebrows from MJ. The same occurred in P.E. The teacher showed an introductory video starring none other than Captain America, so no one was required to wear gym clothes. It seemed like an easy enough day for everyone else, but of course you brought your trusty notebook.

Eventually the final bell rang and the four of you headed out toward the front of the school where the day began. Happy and the same black car sat right outside, so you said goodbye to Ned and MJ while Peter sulked behind them before you trotted off to meet up with Happy. You headed home, answered some questions from Tony, Pepper, and Steve about how the day went, and got to starting some reading for homework. Tony asked if Peter was nice, of course, but you didn't throw him under the bus. Maybe he was just having a bad day, you wondered. Who knows?

The rest of the week continued the same way. You headed to each class, furiously scribbled down notes, and talked mostly to Ned and MJ between classes. Peter still wouldn't talk much, so you started wondering if that was just his personality. On the other hand, MJ still wouldn't sit with him at lunch, each day calling him some variation of a "jerk." Flash continued to poke at you, suggesting you be friends with him. Needless to say, you kept ignoring him. He was appearing more and more like the school bullies you had seen countless videos of growing up and, though you consistently thought about saying something to him, you didn’t. At the end of each day, Happy would drive you home and you’d hang out with the Avengers - mostly Tony and Steve - for a bit before getting into homework and eventually going to bed. Training wouldn't start until the weekend, and boy were you happy for that. This first week was already draining. At the same time, however, you were excited to add something to your schedule as school was already feeling monotonous.

Until Friday, at least.

Peter stood at his locker before the first bell with Ned, who was talking to him about the Lego Death Star they were working on. Peter was initially embarrassed because they didn't talk about it much at school, but quickly worked past it as he thought back to the thrill of building it. They nearly finished the night before and planned to get it done over the weekend. Ned continued on about it as Peter's spider sense suddenly set him on edge. This happened occasionally at school but he tried to ignore it - what could possibly be going wrong on campus? Before he could think up an example, someone behind him pushed on his back and shoved him forward such that his head flew into his locker. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath before backing out of the metal locker and turning around to face none other than Flash Thompson and his yes-men.

"W-What do you want, Flash?" Peter protested.

"I just want you to admit that you made up your Stark Internship to seem cool. We all know it's fake," Flash mocked. A group of students started gathering around them as the two boys and their pit crews practically occupied the hallway.

Trying to get to your first class, you almost bumped into the huddled group. More concerned about being late to class than about pushing people, you forced your way through the wall of students only to find yourself at the edge of an open space where Peter and Flash were tensely facing each other. Your eyes found Ned's as you tried to figure out exactly what was happening.

"Sh-shut up, Flash," Peter spat back, "the internship is real…and you're just...jealous."

"Me? Jealous?" Flash roared back, demanding the crowd’s attention. "Bullshit. I drive an Audi TTS Roadster and you walk to school. Why would I be jealous of you?"

Ignoring every red flag waving in your head, you stepped in between them and finally faced Flash. "Hmm, I don't know," you mocked, "maybe because he doesn't feel desperate enough to keep hitting on the new girl that continuously turns him down? And because every other girl in school hasn't already turned him down? I don't know though, just a guess," you paused to let it sink in before going on. "Could also be that he doesn't have a weird name that sounds like a kindergartener made it up. Or that he has real friends. Again, just guesses."

"Oohs," "aahs," and "burn," were all heard from the crowd as you hastily pulled Peter and Ned away from the scene.

"What was that?" You asked. "Does that happen often? You know you could put him in his place without breaking a sweat, right? You are Spi-"

"SHHH!!" Peter and Ned simultaneously whispered, dragging you to an even quieter hallway around the corner. "No one knows but you, Ned, and the Avengers, remember?" Peter asked while also surveying the rest of the hall to make sure no one was listening.

"Yes, of course I remember. I just mean you could totally take him down. He's like a foot shorter than you and built like a pencil, after all.” Ned chuckled while a distracted Peter fidgeted.

“You could’ve gotten me exposed,” Peter whined as his eyes frantically darted around the hallway until the bell rang.

Ned wacked Peter again and scampered off to his first class. Now alone, you and Peter walked together to their first period chemistry class in silence. Your eyes traced your footsteps until you got to the main hallway where you were met with several high-fives from other students. When you reached the classroom, Peter opened the door and you sat down in your distant desks without another word.

Besides that incident, the rest of the day proceeded as usual. You went to World History, English, and Computer Science, enjoying sitting next to Ned and MJ despite the monotone lectures. Between classes, Ned couldn't stop retelling the events from the morning so MJ could experience them. He recounted the look on Flash's face being one of pure shock as if his beloved car was being towed. Though you weren’t super proud of your actions, this did put a smile on your face as you hadn't stayed at the scene long enough to see his reaction. From Ned's recounting, it seemed like your comments did exactly as you intended.

Peter, on the other hand, racked his brain all morning trying to figure out why you helped him. It doesn’t make sense, he thought. Tony Stark didn’t walk around picking up 15- and 16-year olds and making them Avengers. He definitely didn’t bring her in just to be his buddy. He must be ready to get rid of me, Peter determined, and I can’t let that happen.

Even from your distant lunch table, you could hear Ned steering his conversation with Peter to the morning drama. He couldn’t stop bragging about how amazing you were for standing up to Flash. MJ drew while you chuckled at Ned recounting what went down. Peter, however, remained unphased by Ned’s storytelling all the way up until their Precalculus class. The four of you sat down together as usual, you and MJ next to each other with Peter behind you and Ned behind MJ. Class was less than three minutes in when the teacher started describing a project you’d be working on with partners of your choice over the weekend.

Peter assumed he'd pair up with Ned - as always - and turned to face his buddy. But Ned, the good friend that he is, continued staring straight ahead and allowed only his eyes to slide over to see Peter staring at him expectantly. Deciding to follow through on his promise to get to the bottom of what was making Peter be so weird at the beginning of the week, he tapped MJ's shoulder.

"Hey, MJ? Wanna be partners for the project?" he asked. She shrugged and nodded before returning to her drawing. Accepting that as a yes, Ned turned slowly turned to face Peter, a massive grin plastered on his face. "Told you you wouldn't escape, spider-boy.”

Peter faced him with a grimace and glare, knowing exactly what his friend was doing. Friend, if he could call him that. You, meanwhile, were panicking internally. Partner project? How did that work? Suddenly a finger tapped your shoulder and you turned around to face the brown-haired boy with dark brown eyes sitting behind you.

"Hey, um, Y/N? Do you…have a partner for the project already? F-for the project?"

"Uh...no, I don't. Do you?" Ned and MJ watched your forced interaction like a movie; all they needed was popcorn.

"No, I-I don't. Do you want to be partners? With, um, me?" Peter stuttered, eyes dancing around every surface of the room but her face.

"Yeah, sure," you answered. Ned and MJ to high-fived for their work, though you were oblivious to their involvement. Peter glared at both of them the rest of class, however. Why would they make me be partners with her?

Class eventually got out and the four of you walked from Precalculus to P.E. MJ and Ned planned to work on their project that afternoon and get it over with, an idea Peter was happy to springboard off of. The sooner he could get done with this partnership, the better.

"Do you...want to come to my apartment after school today? You know - uh, so we can get the project done?” he asked as you walked.

"Sure! I have to check with Tony but I'm sure it'll be ok." You and MJ split up from the boys to go in your respective locker rooms. Tony replied quickly with his approval and you made plans with Peter to walk to his apartment when school got out. Ned and MJ, of course, giggled the whole class period, much to Peter's annoyance.

School eventually got out for the weekend and you met Peter at the front doors of the school. The two of you walked a few minutes before you finally spoke up, once again ignoring all the red flags flying.

"I'm sorry, Peter,” you mumbled.

"Why--I mean--what are you s-sorry for?" His forehead scrunched and nose crinkled at your comment.

"I'm sorry you have to work with me. I know you don't like me."

You kept walking, unbothered by your comment, but Peter stopped in his tracks overtaken by confusion, thinking hard trying to put the pieces together. She thinks I don't like her?

"What do you mean?" he finally asked.

Hearing Peter's voice behind you, you stopped walking and turned around. You didn't know where he lived and were supposed to be heading to his apartment, after all.

"I mean," you said, "I know you don't like me. It's not hard to tell. So I'm sorry you have to work with me." You turned back around and kept walking, hoping it was still the right direction.

"Y/N, wait," Peter plead as he jogged up behind you and hesitantly tapped your elbow, only stopping you. "Please," he stressed, finally getting you to turn around. "I guess…I don't hate you. That's not what's going on."

"You guess? Then what is going on?"

"I just...I…ok. Look. I've been the only kid at the compound for a few months, ok? I’ve been the only ‘Stark Intern.’ And Mr. Stark has done so much for me. I have him to thank for my suit and tons of other incredible things,” he explained, still staring at the ground.

"Um, ok…so?" You prodded, hoping for a fuller answer. Peter finally looked back up at you, your glowing eyes for what felt like the first time.

"So…when you showed up, and Mr. Stark was all over you on Monday at the compound? It…it made me think there could only be one of us. Mr. Stark went through enough heat when he first recruited me as one 14-year-old, but two? Why would he do that?" He almost shouted now but paused as a puzzled expression took over her face. Peter continued, his voice dripping with vulnerability. “I really, really want to be an Avenger someday to use my powers for good, and I think that you’re in my way.”

"Peter," you addressed, "Tony and Pepper adopted me. That's why I'm here. They want me to join the Avengers, yes, but I have zero fighting ability or powers or any abilities, really. I don't know what's going to happen in my future, but I will never have superpowers. You've got me there. I wouldn't want your spot anyway. I mean, I don't even think there are "spots." They'll use whoever is ready, willing, and able to fight the threat at hand. Tony may have been criticized, but he recruited you for a reason and he kept you for a reason. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I am zero threat to you. Or even less than zero, since I actually want to help."

You turned around and left Peter gaping. Had Mr. Stark mentioned that? That’s quite a detail to forget, he thought. He realized then that he had been too preoccupied with the girl that was now walking off in the wrong direction to pay attention to what Mr. Stark may or may not have said that day.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"What, Peter?" You snapped back, frustrated that this boy either couldn't or wouldn't understand.

"My apartment is this way," he snickered, pointing across a crosswalk. You stormed back to him and slammed the button to change the lights so you could cross. You stood in front of him, arms crossed and face stern; he looked at the back of your head for the second time that day. This time, though, with a grin on his lips.

The light changed and you crossed, still silent. Eventually you reached the door to Peter's apartment building. But he hesitated before opening it to summon every bit of courage he had.

"Ok. My turn," he stammered, slowly as if the words wouldn't come out. "I'm really sorry if I seemed distant. It was stupid of me to think you were trying to take my spot. I-I promise I'm not normally like that, and I want to make it up to you. C-can we start over? Besides you roasting Flash in front of everyone, though. Because that? Yeah, that was legendary," he joked, relief coursing through him as she smiled and laughed.

"Sure, Peter, we can start over. That said...maybe I really am in your way,” you said, ripping open the door and racing inside before Peter could realize what was happening. He dropped his head back laughing at what he had gotten himself into and followed through the door. You eventually got to the apartment and headed inside to finally get to work on your project.

You spread out papers across the coffee table to start brainstorming. You then worked together, minds operating on the same wavelength, and burned through the majority of the project in a couple hours before deciding to take a break. You asked about the Lego Death Star Ned had been going on and on about for days, so Peter took her to his room to show you the sacred object.

"It's almost done," he explained, picking it up gingerly like it was his life's work. "There are just a few more pieces, and we're kind of worried we're missing--"

"Do you think this is an important piece?" You leaned down and reached under the bed to pull out a small Lego that caught your eye with a flicker of light at just the right angle. Standing up, you held the piece up to Peter, who promptly (yet gently) set the Death Star down and snatched it from your hand.

"Oh. My. Gosh. I gotta call Ned," he burst out. "We've been trying to find this piece for weeks!" He quickly got Ned on the phone and chatted for just a minute before turning back to you, sitting in his desk chair with eyebrows raised at him.

"We want you to do the honors," he offered, holding out the piece with a toothy grin.

"It's not the last piece," Ned piped up on speakerphone, "that one is too special. But you've been a badass today and deserve this. Big time."

Laughing to yourself at how oddly excited you were, you took the piece and placed it exactly where Peter instructed. It fit just right and was surprisingly exhilarating for everyone involved.

"I want to be here when you get it done now that I'm a contributor," you insisted as Peter hung up his call with Ned and you left his room to get back to the project.

"Um…duh."

Without a hitch, you and your fellow Avenger got back to tackling Precalculus. You finished your project - including the extra credit - before the sun even set. Before you knew it, Happy was waiting outside with his characteristic snazzy black car.

"Well," Peter said as he opened the apartment door for you, "that was efficient."

"We make a good team, Parker," you replied as the two of you fist-bumped.

"I'll see you…later?"

"Of course, goofball," you joked, trying to ease the tension that suddenly hung in the air.

Now it was Peter's turn to ignore red flags. It was awkward, he knew that, but he didn't want it to be that way. He wanted you to be smiling that soft smile where the corners of your eyes pinched so he knew it was real. Gosh, he realized, I may have been trying to avoid her, but I was clearly paying attention. He thought about how girls would always hug each other at school - that was normal, right? Your eyes flitted from him to out the door and he knew you needed to go. You looked back to him for a second, catching your breath to say goodbye. Before you could turn around and disappear down the stairs, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.

Your heart stopped for just a second before leaning in and wrapped your arms up around him. You had seen girls always hugging at school too, so this was normal. Right? What you weren’t fully prepared for was feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he held you against him. You exhaled completely - relaxed, warm, safe - and felt your eyes drift gently closed as you rested your chin on his shoulder. It was as if any tension you didn’t even know existed melted away in that moment and Peter reveled in it. He barely knew you, but as his own eyes pressed closed and he held you close, he knew this was how it was supposed to be.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone lit up in your pocket and reminded you the real world existed. Pulling away just enough, you whipped it out and read the message, holding your phone between you and him. His nose was level with your forehead; the two of you still stood close enough that only the phone separated you from each other.

Happy Hogan: Are you coming?

Peter could read the text upside-down and his heart sank as your time was up. It was a weird feeling; he knew he'd see you again in two days but for some reason that felt too long. Both of you were still reeling from the hug - yes, the hug - so simple and innocent yet it felt just...right. Both of you fought grins trying to widen across your faces as you didn't want to be too eager. Both of your eyes danced around the room, down to their shoes, and briefly to each other's eyes, unsure of what to do now.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"I…I have to go…" you whispered, gaze down but gradually finding its way to meet Peter's as you stared up through your eyelashes. Peter wasn't much taller than you, but it was just enough that with your chin down as it was now, you looked up at him with huge eyes that he believed held the world. He nodded. "Bye, Pete."

"Bye, Y/N," he echoed, holding the door as he watched you slip out and walk toward the stairs. You looked back halfway down the hall, still walking, but waving back at Peter, both of you still struggling to keep smiles off your faces as the corners of your lips twitched up. You made your way down the stairs and met Happy, who held the car door open for you and closed it behind you before getting in the front seat.

"Hey, kid," he asked, noticing your distant stare in the rear-view mirror. "You good?"

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his reflection before looking back out the window at the city. “Really good, actually. Thanks, Happy." As you drove through the city and back out toward the compound, you re-traced the events of the day in your head, trying to determine if it had all been a dream or if it was really reality for the second time that week.

As soon as you disappeared down the stairs, Peter closed the door and stood just inside his apartment with everything still pounding. He instinctually leaned his back up against the inside of the door as he pulled his phone out and scrolled through his contacts, then slid down until he was sitting on the floor while the phone rang.

"Ned?" he asked as soon as his friend picked up, "I'm in trouble."

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masterlist | taglist

[styomi]

Fifteen study dates | 15-day prompt challenge | Sweet Pea/OC | Day 12

AN: And, with this one, we’ve officially entered into the kink territory… Enjoy the ideas, you little curious ones :D

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count: 1718 + 120 bonus Chapter count: 12/15

                                                   Stay still for me

Ruby was seriously regretting taking Mattie’s challenge and signing up for the art class at school. It was positively kicking her butt. The worst part, though, was the fact that her current assignment was to draw someone important in her life. And, she probably would’ve asked Jo to sit down for a portrait, because he wouldn’t’ve bothered her, no matter how crappy it came out. But, her father was out of town for work, like usual. So, that left her with the next best thing. Ruby groaned in advance and grabbed her phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Hey, short stuff,” Sweet Pea’s attractive rumble came from the other side of the call. “What’s up?” Ruby closed her eyes, praying for patience.

“Are you busy?” She asked, opting to take the least destructive road. Teasing would come, she knew, but that didn’t stop her from attempting to postpone it as much as she could.

“Not really, just hanging out with the guys.” Toni’s voice protested from his side, making Ruby grin. “And girls.” Sweet Pea corrected himself pointedly, more for his friend’s sake than anything else.

“Well, then… um… Canyoumodelformyartclassportrait?” Ruby rushed to get it all out, the words jumbling together in a smushed sentence.

“Errr, can I what?” Sweet Pea asked. “Didn’t catch that last part of mumbo-jumbo.”

“I’m in art class.” Ruby started again, her face on fire.

“A beautiful fact well-known to all, I don’t doubt. What’s that got to do with me?” Sweet Pea was quick to shoot back teasingly. She was already regretting calling him. She should’ve asked Toni or Fangs. Maybe even Jughead.

“We have a portrait assignment. Someone important in your life.” The girl couldn’t back down then. She’d already stepped into the mess with one foot.

“Oh, want me to ask Toni to come over?” He asked, voice going a bit distant as he moved away from the speaker, undoubtedly looking for the purple haired Serpent.

“No, you,” Ruby quickly cut him off. “I want to draw you,” Sweet Pea laughed. He actually laughed at her. Ruby snapped and cut the call off. She would just draw Jo from memory or something. Her phone rang again from the spot on her desk where she’d tossed it in mild anger and embarrassment. She watched Sweet Pea’s name flash on the screen for a few seconds before giving in and picking up the call. “What?” Ruby’s tone was anything but courteous.

“I’m coming over,” Sweet Pea replied in his usual rumble. “I’m leaving the quarry now, so I’ll be there in ten.” Ruby felt her anger vanish at his calm tone.

“Alright. See you in a bit.” When the line cut off, the girl placed her phone on her sketchbook gently, looking at the dark screen for a few moments. Then, she jumped up from her chair. Ruby rushed to her wardrobe, throwing the drawers open and looking for something nice to wear. Finally, she settled on a light blue sundress with a golden pattern of a phoenix on the front, which Mattie had drawn with some fabric paints when she’d come over. It took the girl a few minutes to have the dress on, tame her long hair with a brush and finally apply some casual mascara and her Chapstick. With a final check in the mirror, she decided that she looked nice enough, but not date-worthy. So, perfect. The doorbell rang Chili’s barking ringing throughout the house. Ruby jumped and rushed down the stairs barefoot, pulling the door open with a sharp motion.

“So, how naked should I get for this assignment?” Sweet Pea was leaning in the doorway, a smug smirk on his lips.

“It’s just a portrait. So, not at all.” Ruby shot back with a small smile, letting him in. Instantly, her dog started singing a different tune, trying to get the biker to pet him with passion.

“Bummer, I think that I’d be a great nude model.” Sweet Pea bent down a bit, petting the eager Chili across the back, then ruffled his ears and let the pooch go. As Ruby led the way to her bedroom, the dog stopped following them, retreating downstairs, where he usually hung out.

“Sit there and don’t move, if that’s possible,” Ruby instructed, making Sweet Pea plop on the window seat and get settled in. He shrugged off his signature leather jacket and tossed it on her bed, before starting to mess with the pillows on the seat, checking out the books and notes on it and looking out at the driveway.

“So, how’s it coming?” The boy asked after the first half an hour. Ruby was focused on her sketchpad, her pencil always moving and eraser coming up from time to time to correct something. She tossed him a glare at the question. Sweet Pea threw his hands up and leaned back, taking up one of the books she’d been reading and opening it. He started skimming through the pages at first. Then, he actually focused on it, becoming immersed in the storyline and reading it slowly. It gave Ruby plenty of time to draw him.

She wasn’t a good artist by any means. Mediocre, at best. But, at Mattie’s challenge to take an art class and develop that skill, she couldn’t resist. Now, drawing Sweet Pea, she wished that she was better. She knew that she couldn’t do his handsome face justice on the paper. After a while, Ruby lost focus and just ended up staring at the tall biker, ridiculously out of place in her window seat, reading a romance novel she’d been given for her birthday by her best friend, Mattie, as a joke.

“Am I distracting you?” Sweet Pea asked after a while, his eyes leaving the page and meeting hers over the top of the book.

“Incredibly.” Ruby sighed, closing her sketchpad and tossing it on the table, along with her pencil and eraser.

“Does that mean that we’re taking a break?” Sweet Pea eagerly suggested. “Because this thing has some very interesting suggestions that I’m just dying to try out.” He put the book up in the air, waving it. Ruby couldn’t resist laughing. She knew that the book had quite a few intimate scenes, rather descriptive, too.

“Mattie gave it to me,” she elaborated. “As a joke, of course.” But, Sweet Pea was already grinning wide from his spot.

“Maybe your bestie just wanted to help us spice it up from time to time,” he waggled his eyebrows and she lost it, bending over with laughter. “Seriously, that scene with the blindfold… Damn, it sounds good.”

“Do you want to try it, then?” Ruby suggested, rising from her seat. She walked over to the door of her room, taking a scarf from one of the hooks. When she turned, she saw that Sweet Pea’s eyes had been glued to her behind the whole way.

“Sure,” he replied, swallowing thickly. Ruby walked over to the window seat, pushing the books to the side to sit next to him and handed him the scarf. Sweet Pea’s hands were cold when they wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes. It told her that he was beyond excited about their little game. “Can you see anything?” He asked, voice coming from right in front of her. Ruby felt his hot breath on her face, smelling of peppermint and some kind of food. He’d probably chewed a gum on his way to her house.

“All dark,” Ruby replied, her voice trembling.

“Alright. Tell me if we go into weird territory, okay?” Sweet Pea’s rumble sent a pleasant chill down her spine.

“We passed it some time ago.” But, the comment wasn’t a biting remark, rather, a sentence of consent, which Sweet Pea knew well. It was like pressing the play button. The first thing Ruby felt was a soft brush of Sweet Pea’s fingers along her neck, down to her collarbone and then they traced the top of her dress and vanished. She took a shaky breath, waiting. Next, his hand took hers, interlocking their fingers. For once, hers were warmer than his. His lips were on her cheek then, gently trailing over it, without a kiss, but with a teasing touch. And, as he neared her mouth, Ruby leaned in, expecting a proper kiss, but met air. She huffed in disappointment.

“Relax, cupcake,” Sweet Pea whispered into her ear, almost making Ruby jump out of her skin. She had had no idea that he was there. “I’ve got you.” The next touch came in a form of a kiss to her neck, making her sigh. Sweet Pea knew what he was doing when it came to neck kisses. They were open-mouthed, hot, coupled with gentle and hard nips, along with promises of hickeys which usually stained Ruby’s skin for days. She couldn’t resist reaching up with her hands, letting go of his fingers, and following his arms up to his shoulders, neck and finally settling for pulling on his hair. It was gelled, an annoying fact that made running her fingers through it hard, but she wasn’t in the business of gentle toying with his locks then. Ruby just wanted to tug on the damned thing and make him kiss her properly. So, she did.

Sweet Pea obliged, his lips meeting hers gently at first, but she deepened the kiss immediately, her tongue seeking out his. It was sloppy, as Ruby couldn’t see anything, and she’d always preferred having her eyes open when kissing. However, the two managed. Then, Sweet Pea pulled away and his arms came around her, hefting her small body up and carrying her somewhere. Ruby sighed, excited by the suspense of not knowing what was going to happen next.

Then, her back met the mattress and she felt Sweet Pea lean against her body, the weight a familiar and welcome feeling. Ruby’s arms came up to go around his shoulders, but he pushed them down.

“No touching, tater tot,” Sweet Pea ordered her. “I sat still for you earlier. Now, it’s your turn.” Ruby nodded shakily and her fingers twisted into the covers, holding on for dear life. She managed to let him do as she wished for a while before she abandoned all thoughts of obeying his wishes.

I’m looking forward to hearing what you guys thought of this one :D

Taglist: @enticinghell @projectcampbell @sweetscamille @xoxodege

Previous parts: Day 1: A way to memorize Day 2: How to prepare for a study date (?) like a proper gentleman Day 3:  With proper motivation, anything is possible Day 4:  PG13 PDA sugar can be good motivation Day 5: Autumn time is picnic time Day 6: It’s best when we can compete Day 7:  Master of procrastination and his jailer Day 8: Take me anywhere, everywhere, away from here Day 9:  Dirty French for beginners   Day 10:  I need… sleep?… no, you… Day 11:  Delirium   Day 13:  Debate? Apparently, a turn-on   Day 14: Two-seater and Chinese   Day 15:  Unintentional intentions  

                                                          Bonus

“What the heck is that?” Toni asked, looking at the drawing Sweet Pea had pinned to the DIY cork board he had above his desk.

“Ruby drew me for her art class,” the tall Serpent shrugged. “I managed to convince her to let me have it.” The purple haired girl leaned away from inspecting the portrait done in pencil in order to raise her eyebrow at her friend.

“Sweet Pea, I love Ruby and all, she’s a darling in a small package…  But, that’s just plain ugly.” Toni spoke slowly like he couldn’t understand her. Sweet Pea laughed heartily and nodded.

“I know, but don’t let her hear that. If you ask me, she needs to drop that class ASAP.”

Now, I’m done :D

[shinydixon]

Negan x Reader - My One and only

MASTERLIST

This is my first fic about Negan (sorry Daryl, but my baby wanted a reader x Negan, you’re still my favourite tho)

This is a gift for my baby @lunalowell , on my requests’ waiting list i wrote that she wanted a drunk daryl x reader smut, but then she fell in love with Negan and Jeffrey Dean Morgan (it’s my fault lol) so she wanted a smutty Negan x Reader.

I hope you like it, queen♥

SHOW: The Walking Dead

Pairing: NeganxReader

Warnings: SMUT, DADDY KINK, BREAST PLAY, SHITTY PICK-UP LINES, A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF

NOTE: - Reader isn’t one of Negan’s wives.

- Italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts

(gif not mine)

Keep running (Y/n)…keep running you’re almost there…almost out of the woods

Why I can’t move?

I’m surrounded by walkers

So It’s over for me?

I woke up suddenly, my breath is heavy.

Today I had a close call during a run and if it wasn’t for Dwight, I would be walkers’ food now.

I lay down again  hoping to fall asleep but there’s no use “Maybe a glass of water will do”

With that in mind, I take my hoodie and I wear it over my white tank top and my black shorts.

Once I’m on the hallway I start to heading toward the kitchen silently.

The Sanctuary is pretty big, and after 2 months of me living here, I’ve finally learn how to reach each place here.

When I reach the kitchen I notice that nobody is around so I walk toward the sink

“Well well well what we have here?” I jump letting out a scream “Oh God Negan are you crazy?” He start to walk towards me, keeping his shit-eating grin on his face…his awesome face

 Since I came here me and Negan keep flirting with each other, however, knowing that he has an harem keep me to go beyond.

He even asked me to become his wife but I say no, telling him I’m not a “sharing type”.

After my refusal, Negan keeps flirting and joking with me, and I really like it; however I don’t know how much I can take before surround at the lust I feel every time he get close to me.

“So, why my babygirl is up this late?”

I almost moan at that pet name

“Keep yourself together (Y/n)”

“I…I c-can’t sleep” “Perfect now I’m stuttering”

Smirking, Negan put his hands on my hips.

He lean down until I could feel his hot breath on my ear: “You seem tense…I can help you with that…Fuckin’ the stress out of you”.

After he finish he stare at me, licking his lips.

“oh God I think I’m wet”

I almost give in but then I remember that he has six wives and I really don’t want to become number seven.

Smiling I walk past him, feeling his eyes on my back, specifically on my butt, and I sit on the chair near the door: “You’re kind but I will not become another one of your “Wives”, beside, I don’t like to share”.

Negan looks at me silently, before smirking again: “Did you sit in a pile of sugar?”

Taken aback by his question I answer: “What? No!” “well I thought so because you have a sweet ass” Of course Negan will start with shitty pick-up lines.

“You’re a jackass” I say giggling

Grinning he starts walk toward me: “I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on” he says groping at his crotch.

That makes me laugh loudly: “Negan please stop”.

In a blink of an eye Negan is right in front of me, he extends his hands at me: “Do you have a map?” Knowing too well where this was going I rolled my eyes: “Negan please don’t” I say giggling while I take his hand.

“Because I’m getting fucking lost in your eyes” he continue, pull me onto him.

“You’re an idiot” I say laughing, burying my head into his chest.

He was so warm, and being this close to him makes me want him more.

Once I stop laughing we stare into each other eyes.

His hazel eyes were dark and hungry: “Do you have a name or I could just call you mine?”

He wants me and I want him, I can’t wait anymore.

“I’m yours”.

Grinning Negan finally kiss me on the lips.

I expected to be raugh but actually the kiss was slow and sensual.

While his tongue parted my lips, his hands went down from my hips to my butt, grabbing it and squeezing it hard. “Mmh…” I moan, interrupting our kiss.

“You like it rough baby girl?” He asked, while he starts to rub his salt and pepper beard on my neck, causing goose bumps. “mmm…yes daddy”

Giving out my daddy kink, I thought Negan would stop, instead he growled and starts to bit and kiss my neck.

“Daddy will make his baby girl feels very fuckin’ good”.

All of sudden he takes me up by my thighs.

Gasping I put my arms around his neck, kissing his neck while he walk toward his room.

I was so focused into making him moan that I didn’t realize that we reach our destination, until he put me down.

Negan walks straight toward his couch: “Take them off baby girl”.

I start to unzip my hoodie, a little insecure and self-conscious.

However once I took off the hoodie, Negan stares at my breast which sticks out from my tank top.

“Come here baby” he says licking his lips.

I literally run toward him, needing his hands all over my body.

Feeling wetter and wetter I just push him against the sofa’s back so I could straddle him: “Feisty, I fuckin’ love it”

He didn’t get to add more because I grab his head and push it against my breast.

He starts to kiss them and bite them above my tank tot: “You wear too fuckin’ much”

He literally rip my tank top and keeps devouring my breast: “Goddamnit Negan…nngh… Did you really have…ah… to do that?” He didn’t answer, he just growled.

It was so good with his lips that I start to grind right onto his crotch, feeling him growing under me.

That arouse him more, he yanked off my shorts and panties: “You’re so beautiful…I fuckin’ need you, I fuckin’ needed you for so long baby girl”.

I moan and unzip his pants, tacking out his cock and start to stroking him.

He moans loudly and start to thrust into my hand: “Baby girl, daddy needs you, next time will take it slow, but now I need to bury my fuckin’ big cock into your little pussy”

Nodding I align his cock at my entrance and I sink down: “Fuck yes daddy” “You’re so wet baby, now show daddy how much you need him” I start to bounce on him up and down, while he thrust up into me.

“Look at this beautiful tits” he plays with my boobs, making me scream.

We keep a fast rhythm, the only sounds in the room where our moans and the sound of skin against skin: “Now (Y/n) c’mon, come for daddy, let me see you come on my cock” His powerful thrusts and the dirty talk were enough to take me over the edge.

I came  so hard, screaming his name, while I keep riding him: “Daddy, come in me”

Negan wasn’t too sure about that so I assure him that I take the pill.

At that his thrusts became harder and faster; I keep riding me even if my pussy is sensitive now.

After a couple of thrust Negan came, muffling his moans into my neck.

I lay my head into the crook of his neck: “It was…” “So fuckin’ good” He complete my sentence.

After we catch our breathing I got up and start to dress up again, putting my hoodie on my bare chest.

Negan’s eyes were on me while I dress; he was staring at me silently: “(Y/n)…Do you want consider my proposal again?”.

I turn around and walk toward his figure, still sitting on his sofa.

“This was amazing Negan…It really was…but I don’t like sharing my man. I need to be the only one, I don’t need a man who fucks multiple women…that hurts me too much”.

I peck his lips before turning around and walk toward the door.

Before closing it behind me I add: “If you wanna repeat that, you know where to find me…daddy” I wink at him and close the door behind me.

THIRD PERSON POV:

Negan smirk at her calling him daddy.

Since he lays his eyes on her, he thought about her just as another possible good fuck but after he had her, he feel something strange, like she’s the only one he needs.

He didn’t feel like that since Lucille.

Maybe he didn’t need all those wives after all.

Forever taglist: @youandyourstupidrope

@chihuotheartist

@weirdnewbie

@sithlordalice

[eberles]

Just a Little PDA

Mat Barzal

A/N: this fic was written with @softboybarzal she deserves just as much credit and she also made the header!🥰 and @bestestbenn helped me a bit with the big kiss😌 we hope you guys love it as much as we do, please give us feedback!💖

Warnings: slight relationship insecurities nothing big

Mat Barzal was one of the hottest players on the Islanders and when you met you never expected it to end up where you were now. A year and a half into a serious relationship with the Isles star and you truly couldn’t be more happy. Mat saw you for who you were immediately and fell for you within the first month of dating. You accepted him for who he was in more than just a “hot shot hockey player” kinda way. You understood him and learned who he was outside of hockey.

You stood in the tunnels chatting with the other wags, waiting for the guys to come out of the locker rooms to congratulate them. When you finally see Mat making his way over to you, you feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach and the giddy feeling taking over your body.

“Baby, you won! I’m so proud of you.” and he could tell you truly were proud just by the gleam in your eyes and the adoration written all over your face. You wrapped your arms around Mat’s neck, allowing for him to pick you up by your waist when you hugged. He spun you around once before placing you back on your feet, leaning down to kiss you. “You ready?”

“Hell yes. Time to celebrate with my guys and my girl.” Mat said proudly, interlocking your hands, giving yours a small kiss as you walked down the hall.

Just like every other team in the league, going out to a popular club or bar was a tradition whenever a game was won, especially a home game. So here you are standing in a crowded bar admiring your boyfriend boasting about the game his team won. You felt like the most proud girlfriend in the bar that night, everyone around you cheering and doing shots going all out to celebrate. Mat had his arm wrapped around your waist as he stood at the bar talking with Tito when a few girls made their way over. You’d seen them hanging around before after games so you weren’t surprised when they leaned in front of you to give Mat a side hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mat involuntarily let go of your waist to reciprocate the hug wanting to be polite to the girls gawking at Mat and Tito. You stood idly by trying your best to interact in the conversation the boys were pulled into by the tall, blonde, beautiful girls.

“No, like you guys were so great tonight!” One of the girls spoke, grabbing onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You rolled your eyes, slowly backing away from the small group not wanting anyone to notice. you figured they were better off in their own world without you, for now, mat deserved the praises even if they were coming from beautiful bombshell groupies. He looked so happy and with how you were feeling, you decided to get some air. You made your way outside, instantly wrapping your arms around your body to shield from the winter New York weather and took a deep breath in and out trying not to work yourself up. The thoughts never escape your mind about how Mat might be better off without you and with one of the girls talking him up inside the bar. It wasn’t fair how they pushed you off him and wormed in between you guys. You didn’t want it to bother you, but of course, it did. You chewed on your bottom lip looking up at the sky, the darkness filled with the city lights. That same darkness trying to consume your thoughts.

It didn’t take long for Mat to notice you were gone and immediately sensing a panicking feeling forming in his chest at your absence. He felt like a dick for not even seeing you leave the group, he moved away from the surrounding girls and Tito making his way around the bar to look for you. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest when he didn’t see you with the other wags.

“Where’s Y/N? Have you seen her?” Mat asked the groups of wags, eyes wide, concern filling his features.

“I think she went outside. She looked upset, I was gonna check on her-” one of the wives spoke up, pointing towards the exit. Mat thanked her and started towards the door when he was pulled back by one of the girls.

“Mat! Where are you going? Don’t leave us!” the three blondes giggled surrounding Mat, hands touching his back and biceps.

“My girlfriend needs me. Take a hint and find someone else to grope.” Mat says through gritted teeth, the anger now finally showing through. He shrugged the girls off before beelining out the door and spotting her, his only girl, leaning against the side of the building.

“Baby, there you are!” Mat breathed out, touching his hands to his chest signifying his relief upon seeing her face. His nerves shown by him running his fingers through his hair.

“What's wrong? What are you doing out here?” you asked, not wanting to get into why you disappeared from the group. However, your boyfriend wasn’t stupid and he could see right through you. He knew you better than anyone else ever had.

“You came out here alone? You okay, did someone bother you?” Mat ignored your questions, grabbing your hands and looking all over you to make sure you were still in perfect condition and no harm had been done. Younod your head yes, but Mat can sense when somethings not right. He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks delicately, his hands warming you up instantly. Your hands following in suit, placing them right above his, clinging onto his wrists, keeping his hands on your face. He’s looking deep into your eyes, his hazel ones silently asking you what’s wrong and how he could help you in these moments. You can feel yourself sinking into the trance he’s pulling you into and you don’t notice your eyes starting to well with tears. Mat wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead and temple.

“Those girls in there...I-”

“Hey listen to me, you know nobody compares to you right?” Mat whispered into your ear and you chuckle shaking your head, now feeling a few tears slip through. “It’s true. I only got my eyes on you, you’re it for me. Now and forever.”

“I love you,” you say looking up at Mat, a shy smile on your face when he kisses your nose and wipes away your stray tears with his thumbs.

“C’mon, you wanna go back inside?” you nod when he asks, and grab his hand letting him lead you back inside the club to a vip table where the rest of the team and wags are sitting. He pulls you into his lap, rubbing up and down your arms before resting them wrapped around your waist. He’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear and leaving kisses on your neck and shoulders between every word. Mat can feel the girls from before staring at the two of you and when he looks over to confirm it was true, he smirks before turning your cheek to look at him. His hand on your hip tightened, he let out a hum as he leaned closer to you, his nose brushing against yours. You hardly had a second to react before he closed the gap, meeting you in a kiss that he rarely gave you in public. One of his hands on your waist and the other cupping your cheek bringing you closer to him, your lips enveloping eachother’s. Your hands tangling themselves in his hair, massaging his scalp lightly and pulling on the ends of his hair just enough for him to moan into your mouth. He lightly bit your bottom lip, the tactic working like it always did and making you open your mouth. Just as he was about to keep going you pulled away much to his protest, with a smile covering your features trying to regain your breath.

“What was that for?” you laugh, poking his slightly pink cheeks. You ran your fingers through his hair, loving the feeling and giggling when Mat let out a small grunt as you twisted your fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I just love you. And I want everyone to know.” Mat says confidently nodding his head at the girls and leaning back in his chair. The two of you watching the blondes storm out with stank looks plastered on their faces as you pull your boyfriend back in for another kiss.

“You’re the one I’m taking to bed tonight.” Mat says against your lips, squeezing your hips moving his hands down giving your butt a soft squeeze too. “And every night.”

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[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 16)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 15.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: A horny and insecure witcher decided to talk what his mind has been keeping; making you see how much of a man he was that was worth to choose and be chosen. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+. (Yep. Again. Love it while it lasts, bb’s. Hehehe.) Some witcher in a rut. Finger sucking. Cream pie. Smut. Size kink. (I meant Geralt’s body build. LMAO *I base this story on the show. Not the game or books.*) an irritated bard? Ahehehehe. Nakedness? Geralt being soft and honest? (*screams*)

A/N: I was drained from the last chapter and I’ve taken a break. I was supposed to not update today due to it. I hope you can lend at least a minute to reblog or give me feedback, ghost readers out there! 💟 There ain’t no moments like this anymore because the plot will take its place on the next chapters! ENJOY WHILE IT LASTS!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: littlechinesedoll)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

GERALT OF RIVIA WAS IN A RUT.

You were sure he was after being fucked into oblivion by the witcher for countless of times already; taking a lot of orgasms in just about eight hours? He was lucky that he was a mutant. However, in your side? It was unfortunate because your stamina was weaker than his.

Your poor punani has been overworked and wrecked again. Lungs seem to be incapacitated, dangerously reaching the critical level for accepting Geralt's wishes; another round of ceaseless bliss in which you certainly didn't defy. Pants and wheezes were muddled against the mattress as you shoved your face on it, vigorously being burrowed from behind.

Here you thought; feeling mighty and confident that you could take and last for how long his enhanced self would.

Technically, you were wrong. Utterly wrong.

Was it round twenty-five already? Thirty? You may never know because every time Geralt finishes, his girth somehow magically becomes stone hard again like he never spilled himself inside you. If only he wasn't sterile, you were probably about to get pregnant with little witchers somehow based on how he always milks you in; like you were his pet, letting you take it good.

The white wolf's libido was overly developed as well. As you were told by the man, himself. He could go on for hours, days and even weeks, nailing you repeatedly until you have no energy to comprehend what was happening, and you were sure that his enhancement with the desires he had was a perk and also a disadvantage for your weak self who had her virginity taken just days ago.

Your sexual experiences are being expanded and learned by Geralt, not knowing before that you had a size kink of being choked in his own weight above yours, baptizing every nook and space in their home like animals in heat and being treated like you were such a fragile little thing before being corrupted; tainting your once chastised soul.

The witcher was a person who had given you a different outlook in life. Bringing you to a wonderland in the midst of being railed repeatedly; consistent with his rigorous, shameless pounding from the back. Brusque. Sharp. Perfect for the angle that hits the perfect spot, polishing your hole that has sent you ripples and waves of glory.

Geralt's moans were withdrawn, holding back those sounds of pleasure from ponderously watching his girth push and slither inside your heat. His mouth tightly shut and thick eyebrows scrunched in rapture. Aureate eyes intensely concentrated on his hard cock slowly drilling back, keeping his bulbous head in before slowly drawling back like he like watching you be filled with his girth; admiring how you were stretched around his hardened cock.

He'd felt your body intensely tremble beneath his.

Your knees were quivering with every plunge. Warm drizzles of your cunt leaking with a mixture of his fluid and yours together; like art combined with a color that creates a new one. The room smelled like sex and sweat with a scent of fresh grass because of how the windows were wide opened.

Nobody would see you both in such a debauched position, right? you've thought that when Geralt has lowered you down against the mattress, his weight crushing and pinning you down, quickly getting to his job; sticking his girth inside of you like he never would get tired of doing so after basically baptizing the hallway through the second floor.

Elbows began to feel sore. A desperate whine began to gurgle from your dry throat. Hand tightly grabbing onto one of his that laid on the curvatures of your hips, dragging you back to his swollen girth with every shove; filling you over and over like how you deserved because you've been a good girl. Every time he did, Geralt never misses the spot that could bring you into another restless, writhing orgasm.

The filthy sound of skin slapping on skin came with icherous slimy caresses of your nectar coating each other's carnal greed. Noise came with his bedpost hitting the wall like a maddened gorilla raging out of its cage, when all of a sudden; you've heard Kolby's strange bark that seem to come from the first floor, alarming you both that his family has already came back. Yet, here you were, splayed below the witcher and still getting driven to his extremes.

Geralt pulled his hand away from the bed post, leaving a print and a crack of his hand against the wood. His fingers slid through your dangling breasts, palms groping your teat as he began to knead onto it like a cat trying to suckle from his mother; claws out as he tweaked your sensitive nipple in one breast to the other. Simultaneously changing hands as he continued to reach you both to the edge of Nirvana.

Then, you've heard laughter and complaining downstairs.

"Geralt," you started with a mewl, your body being rocked from behind, the sheets thoroughly disheveled from your tiring day activities. His hand that fondled your teat trailed up your body; while the other glided down for what throbbing nub that was needed attention for another release.

His palm gently met your mouth when you've began to moan from his fingers touching your clit, rubbing and circling it the right, pleasuring way while he went on with his ceaseless ramming.

"Hnnng," you whimpered, voice muffled from his large, calloused hand that covered your mouth; hushing you from any noise that could echo out of the room.

The way he was manhandling you does it. From the moment he tried shushing you up, your heat began to clench around him. Your body squirming and thrashing under his skin. Weakened from the sudden action as it made you tremble; feeling the coil beginning to snap with just a few more jabs.

More thuds and unfathomable complaints echoed outside the room. With Jaskier finally knowing what caused the commotion that he somehow managed to be in. Geralt didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that their table has been wrecked; though, the bard might say otherwise.

His plowing slackened when you’ve felt him breath heavily from behind, 

"Shhhh. Quiet down, midget." he clasped his palms tighter on your mewling mouth; hearing his breathless grunts above you was making you squirm in his hold. It didn't take you another lewd moan when Geralt's thick index and middle finger skid in between the pillows of your lips, an act of pacifying your noise down which has gotten an elicit of your juices flowing down your thighs, soaking you more than ever. But, you never did deliberate to suck on those fingers like how your mind has told you.

The smutty action was enough for him to briefly glance down at you, engrossed and captivated by a never expected bustles from his naive, greenhorn of a woman. 

Another weakened moan was muffled beneath the palm that clasped your mouth. Your fingers trying to wrench his own away from slightly pinching on your sensitive clit, dragging you to where you wanted.

Neverland. Nirvana. Heaven. Where ever you could experience bliss.

Or basically Geralt's bed because you were currently being brought to the edge of the rainbows.

He was persistent and continued rubbing on your nub, his thick, long fingers thoroughly drenched from your arousal. 

"Ugh---Hmm. fuck." the white haired witcher deeply grunted and moaned, his jutting hips bottoming out as he continued his desperate, urgent drives. Thrusts turning reckless. Panting breaths like dogs in heat; embracing every bit of his urgency to reach the floating clouds.

Your real name has slipped out of his tongue, sounding so lewd which has taken you over the edge. Knees began to shake as the high took over. Muscles clenching and also your cunt tightly choking his girth to spill his seed, urging him to thoroughly coat your insides. Another loud breathless grunt left his ajar lips; the sweat dripping down his temples as it also drenched his chest from all the activities. His heartbeat was running miles after miles, chasing to catch yours.

"G-Geralt, Geralt, Geralt!" you've salaciously cried out with every sloppy thrusts in the midst of having a muscle spasm; choking in the blast of euphoria when he'd took his hand off your mouth, grabbing onto yours which has been holding onto the headboards for dear life. Hence, as the witcher pulled your hand away; he'd done the unexpected.

Geralt of Rivia has sweetly peppered the back of your hands with honeyed kisses to soothe your convulsion; treating you like he wasn't fucking you to oblivion nor corrupting you from behind.

You've heard his breath hitch. The way he'd dropped his large hand on the mattress over your small ones, gripping onto it hard; you knew he came. He'd panted heavily above you, the new position being surrounded by his gigantic warmth. Your juices soaking your inner thighs as his load shot inside you. All warm and cozy; giving you a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that you couldn't explain.

He never pulled out until he was finished. You were so full of him, his seed dripping out of your cunt when his semi-flaccid cock dragged out of your overused pussy, telling him how he’d filled you more than he planned to. Your knees eventually buckled and lost its will to be useful for you; your face down on the pillow, running short of breath as you planted over the tousled sheets.

Geralt laid on the bed beside you, his large body built turned to you with an arm tucked below his head. Basking in all his glory and sweat with amber eyes solely worried for your weary form. You sounded like you were wheezing as he hovered over to pull the blankets over your waist, shielding you over the cold, crisp wind of the afternoon dew. Your whole body coated in the satiny sliver of your sweat combined with his and the witcher couldn't help but take in the view that he longed to be habituated once again before you came along.

Did he...actually break you while being drilled? he silently thought at the back of his tousled, half tied chalky white hair.

"Midget?" He softly muttered, using an elbow to peer down before you. Aureate eyes lingering a little bit longer. His fingers extending to graze along the line of sweat that covered your spine before reconsidering, hands ought to brush your disheveled hair away from your face, taking his time as he glided his fingers down through the side of your face.

He doted on the spent image of your sprawled body in the middle of his bed. Your heart turning more warmer than it ever could when you've felt him watching you over, the blankets glazing atop of your skin as you've closed your eyes, trying to steady back your breathing.

"I'm...fine. Just...spent. Let me...breathe," you breathlessly whispered.

"Hmm."

His faint, vibrating hum slowly calmed the fluttering butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. He earnestly cast his eyes over you. The thick pad of his fingers tracing along the hairs of your arm; giving you a shiver, padding down till the tips of yours before strikingly filling in the gaps of your fingers with his. Such a simple action making your heart feel snug with a hint of palpitation from the sudden, unusual gesture from the white wolf.

Well, he was certainly learning.

You've taken a peek from under the flat fuzz of your pillows; seeing amiable, tired, tender eyes. Rough, large palms delicately scraping through your soft ones, entwined amongst the unkempt silk of sheets from the result of your passionate tupping.

With your eyes still shut, a jaded admission was sent to the latter; assuming things from your negative state of mind. This always happens in the movies, right? the small voice in the back of your mind stated. After all the blissful moments, complication and problems tries to hinder over the blithe that wanted you to believe that this was a much of a miracle to happen.

It was subtly telling you that your presence in their world had a time limit because you didn't belong to their world in the first place. Salt came pinching down your heart at the sudden realization of that; getting a gist of feeling by choosing to live in their world forever, there were instances that would get you coming back from your dimension. Every felicitious moment feeling like it was all temporary and a fleeting scene in your mind.

The idea struck like a lightning. You didn't belong to their world; nor do you fit in.

Such a change of heart that you wanted to scurry home since the first day you've arrived; thinking that everything was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't wake you up. But, in this exact moment; you felt like not wanting to go home.

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't come back after your hunt?" you weakly muttered; brushing off the infectious thought that could bring the felicity down; pulling yourself closer to him. You've tossed the bad shadows trying to lure you in as you've focused on the golden light that Geralt could let you see through. His warm breath fanned your face as you heavily sighed out the worry crippling out of your chest.

"You're overthinking." he deeply rasped, hearing him breath steady; sounding like his declaration had a double meaning. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he continued to reassure your troubled self, "---I never leave nor would I plan to. My family is my home,"

Geralt collected his thoughts, breaking through the spell you've always had to cast him in. Only your exquisite scent being the fire to thaw his walls down. It took him seconds before bluntly saying his next words, making you flutter your eyes open to see him softly smiling back at you. His tone warm, comforting and nesh for your sensitive, soft heart soul.

"---you are also my home. I'll always come back to you---always will find you,"

Those words that he stunningly said made your heart skip a beat. The cicatrix glowing beneath the sheets without you knowing, ecstatic of what has come out from his lips as a burst of bliss spread right through your chest.

You've felt the adrenaline rush from his sudden admission and change of aura; abruptly making you nail your elbows on the table, repeatedly blinking back at the witcher when you've felt the balmy cloud of warmth spread around your eyes; close enough for you to cry and you languidly leaned down to his very peaceful face to softly give him a kiss on the lips in which he gladly reciprocated.

No. This wasn't sweet nothings where he tries to win over your heart. His words was a declaration of breaking those walls down for you. It was a key for you to come hopping in, an invitation of seeing the real him; his vulnerable side that nobody ever sees.

Hence, this was the first time you've had someone showing you what it felt to be important, needed and cared for. A person with real intentions. Sensations which you never knew it existed or believed that you would ever get to experience such.

Nevertheless, it took you a trip to another dimension just to have it.

Your mouth left his with a euphonious twang. There was no rush to the kiss or any type of greed. Just a succulent sharing of what you wanted him to feel from your quiet response of what he said. It needed no words of approval or even a shedding of your tears; erasing the worries away if you started bawling your eyes out from his secrets that he whispered. His thick brows furrowed in a questionable expression, intently eyeing your dewy peepers staring back at him. Utterly fond. The witcher feeling as if there was profound affection deep within your eyes as you tried to shield them over with that twinkling gaze of yours.

He knew what he was seeing or feeling from you. But, he chose to ignore as of the moment.

"Jaskier's fond of you," he abruptly admitted, downright apathetic; his gravel tone expressing a mixture of interest and a little bit of doubt, not for you but for himself.

That simple display of what you've visibly felt made your heart soften a lot more than it ever could. Finding it hard to believe that this person slash mutant in front of you also had his own issues, sounding diffident with just conferring about this surprising fact he noticed from his friend who seemed to be catching feelings for you that certainly was quite difficult to believe.

You were biting the tips of your tongue from saying anything further more, pulling back from driving too fast that maybe Geralt was falling behind.

"Jaskier? Your Jaskier? The bard who always tries to ruin my day? you’re hallucinating, Geralt." you wanted to snort from his accusation.

Geralt has given you a dirty look, appearing to look like he has issues with you that he didn't want to expand as he kept his silence and continued to send a grimace. Was he hallucinating? Were he hallucinating when he'd read those words upon your lips hours ago? Was your endearment just a slip of your tongue? A simple caught up in the heat of the moment?

Was he also just hallucinating when you’ve called him ‘love’?

"Am I, really?" the witcher stated flat, sending a displeased hum as he subtly played with the softness of your fingers clutched to his bigger ones.

Your eyes turned wide from his deadpan, "What did I do? That banter sounded sarcastic, kitty!"

The latter slowly blinked, dragging a sigh as his baritone timbre turned stern and also meek no matter how hard he tried to cover it up from the roughness that he wanted it to sound like, you could read between the lines and sure enough, he was self-effacing from his friend who was also fond of you.

"Do...you like the bard?" he hesitatingly trailed off. The question ending with a pause as it sounded completely unforthright. You've given him a tender beam; child like and masking with nothing but innocence, affection and understanding, "Go on. I'm listening. Tell me what's on your mind," you started, seeing his tight lipped mouth shut. Those amber eyes briefly looking away from you,

"---Come on, please? Let me understand and see through the good heart that I've always believed in,"

Geralt gave it a moment. Exactly a minute as you've accepted the tranquil silence with him. Such silence that you have never imagined to be so comforting because back in your apartment, the stillness was eerie and cold; imagining hands trying to take your soul away from surviving a life by working in another country where you had no one but you.

"You're...significant to me." his glowing amber eyes turned heartfelt, shooting warmth through your skin and chest, "---you are a lot to handle. An unorthodox in my dimension. Yet, despite that, you're the havoc I didn't know I needed,"

"You're calling me chaotic. How sweet of you," you deadpanned, snorting from his metaphors that got you successfully rolling your eyes back at him.

"Your existence brought me sheer confusion about you. But, I'd rather have that befuddlement than to not be with you,"

Destiny brought you to him. Those assumptions he'd taken into consideration was now taken into account. Thus, destiny just needed this to not fuck it up. It shouldn't because he much rather not imagine how it would happen nor how he would be able to accept such fate laid before him. 

"Jaskier's...a friend---he's important to me," he continued, feeling your other hand fall onto the side of his face; soft fingers tracing along the scar on his forehead and cheekbones with that glimmer in your eyes that make him want to give you another kiss; readable in your peepers was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly, "---No matter how annoying he is. He's still my companion. A real...friend. I've seen how comfortable you are with him, saw how compatible you were with the bard,"

You've stopped brushing your fingers along his marks. Your free hand sluggishly propping below your chin as you've peered down. A small grin curling your lips, "When have you been a love guru? Does this version of you come up with a graphic chart that tells how many percentages do I seem to be compatible with Jaskier?"

He kept silent, staring straight into your eyes with a lukewarm expression; not understanding your references.

You've given him a faint raise of your brow, skeptically looking at him with an amused flicker of your peepers, "You've seen us that night. Explains why Jaskier was ranting about the door you've broken,"

Geralt kept his mouth tightly shut, shortly looking away before giving you a pensive response, "I've already fixed it---and you know it was not just about that,"

Pulling your closed fist under your chin, you've tilted your head to the side. Pleased by his tamed reaction as you've leaned closer to his face, adoring Geralt's sublime features that never fails to charm you everyday. His charisma totally knocking your wits out as you could finally see more of his true self.

You started, your words smoothly dancing per word; sounding utmost sincere and in wonder, "People in your world say witchers don't feel emotions," even being disregarded like they weren't humans, you silently added much more to yourself when you paused to talk, "---Well, my witcher is exactly the opposite because you're full of it even though you sound unenthusiastic all the time---comes with the mutations, I guess?"

The soft look in his eyes warmed your soul. Attentive of the stars that seem to float inside those amber pair; looking like he'd caught them for you. He stayed silent, never breaking his gaze away from you nor planning to move away from your body close to his.

"Do you want me to be with the bard?" your question caught him off guard, keenly reading through what your eyes wanted to say. The query sounding like it was just a quip.

"Will that make you happy?"

Geralt warily asked, completely earnest of what he said that made you bite the inner plump of your lips. There was a long amount of silence, contemplating what made him think that way, even considering the idea of never getting in the way when you'll choose another person than him. Was he even real?

Your smile fell a little at the question, swiftly unwrapping your hands entwined with his which ignited a tight frown from the witcher when he miscalculated the sudden gesture. But, those dreadful thoughts ceased when you've poked his muscular chest, the part where his heart loudly beat beneath the pad of your index finger.

"Will that make...YOU happy?" you slowly emphasized and returned the question, intently gazing above him. When he never answered and stayed quiet, it was the right time to say words that couldn't be kept to yourself. You've forgotten to bite your tongue from saying anything further less.

"---But, YOU make me happy, Geralt of Rivia. Isn't that enough reason to choose you?"

Keen golden eyes deeply gazed into yours, as genuine than it has ever been before; sucking you in and having no chance to escape from the resplendent color of his hues. Geralt moved beneath to help himself by using his elbow, his sudden elevation making you tilt your head back to see him deeply staring, mouth turning into a tight straight line as he rasped.

"Even if it takes for your life back in your world to be taken away from you---fuck." he abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, briskly taking a glimpse of the door behind you when he could hear stealthy padded footsteps hiking up the stairs. 

Jaskier.

Geralt sharply sat his back on the headboard. His silvery, unkempt half-tied hair moving as he does so, the white sheets pooling just below his torso. He looked bedraggled and utterly sweaty which made it feel so fulfilling to have him in your presence looking like that. A miraculous snack. You could never have this opportunity back in earth.

You bit your lips from keeping yourself from grinning, curiously eyeing him as you mused. He deliberately scanned your exposed back, "What? What's happening?"

The latter took no questions and quickly pulled the covers over your shoulders as you laid on your front, slightly elevated with the help of your arms tucked under. He loudly sighed, sitting back on the wooden board. Recognizable footfall thumping louder and closer before a wind up bard barged in the room without knocking or announcing his presence.

"You two!" Jaskier exclaimed, ceasing midway in the middle of the room; looking lost and piqued. His pretty face morphed into a tight frown to find you and Geralt utterly rumpled under the sheets. You tossed a look over your shoulder to see the bard straight up crashing inside like there has been no lock or whatsoever.

Geralt motioned with his hands, palms on either side to show how taken aback he was from his friend who came trudging in like he owned the place. His face hinting with displeasure. Wordlessly gesturing towards the bard with a 'What the fuck?' face.

You skeptically hushed whispers beside the witcher, timidly pulling the covers over your wild head, looking stunned as you exclaimed, "I thought you locked the room? I told you to lock it!---What if it was Cirilla?!---Don't you know what a lock is, Geralt?!"

Despite of your panicking and embarrassed state, he was entirely the opposite as he sounded lackadaisical, going on by glaring at the bard who has his face scrunched in utmost displeasure, "I didn't expect them to arrive home this early." the witcher rolled his eyes from his galled self and sent a scowl towards the bard.

Jaskier raised his brow in disbelief, "Early? We've been gone for 8 hours, Geralt!"

"Well, I thought you'll be gone for at least a day and not barge in our room after we had a 'moment', Bard. A knock would’ve suffice."

Another set of padded footsteps, this time it sounded like this person was merrily hopping through the hallway. Until a ball of Ashen hair peeked through the opened doorway with a short Hirikka standing in the middle of the threshold.

"I'm here---woah!" Cirilla seemed to be knocked out of her boots when she saw you emerging from under the covers, bashfully covering your chest with the sheets, looking mortified by everyone seeing you in that kind of state. You were glaring at the witcher who tossed your off the side for a while as he dealt with his scandalous and crazy family.

"---I knew it!" the princess of Cintra loudly clapped and jumped on her feet. Her excitement immediately dying down when she noticed that you both weren't actually clothed beneath the white blankets. She firmly crossed her arms, her nose scrunching in disgust, "---Also, gross! Please do lock the doors next time!"

She whistled at the flabbergasted Hirikka who was sniffing the whole room in bewilderment; stout stopping before the bard as he sniffed him loudly enough for Jaskier to wave his face off away from his face. Cirilla whistled another, catching the beast's attention and making Geralt wince due to his heightened hearing, "Kolby, let's go! I'm giving you a nice warm bath!" before she shut the door closed behind them when he'd run off towards the princess.

Geralt and Jasker were giving each other stern glares; seeming to be in a challenge where one shouldn't back down despite of how mean it appeared to be like.

Jaskier was the first to talk, beginning his interrogation, "Who ruined the dining table?"

You swallowed the butterflies wanting to fly out of your throat, lifting a shaky finger to point at the witcher who was still as he sat on his side of the bed, "I’m definitely not the person who has superpowers here---It's him," but, Geralt seemed to answer in the same time with you.

"No one."

Jaskier didn't seem to want and take everyone's bullshit as he crossed his arms in front of you both. Geralt's clothes on one hand and yours in the other that made a blush go straight up your whole face, burning the dignity that was left. You wanted to yell from how irresponsible you were for leaving your clothes all around the house when you promised yourself that it'll be fixed after your activity.

You didn't expect Geralt to take eight hours---or you did?----and actually forgot what was needed to remember.

"Oh, no one, Geralt? I suppose this shirt is also owned by no one, considering how unclad you are right now? Hmm. Would this tunic come from the Hirikka then?" the toubadour raised his hand where Geralt's black under tunic has been balled up.

Jaskier dramatically puffed out a sigh, sounding like it was the end of the world for what has welcomed them when they came back from their weekly visit for Cuthbert. He held forth about your sudden shenanigans around the house like a father delivering a tirade.

"We leave for eight hours and this is what you both welcomed us in," pause. "---A broken bloody table where we dine!" Another pause as he threw Geralt's clothes at his face in which he caught it perfectly, "---your clothes everywhere in the house like snakes who shed their skins anywhere they go!"

Lastly, his foot fidgeted on the wooden floors, tapping in anxiety as he remembered that tiny scratch he had seen on his beloved musical instrument, entirely galled from the wound it received like it was his baby.

"---and also my lute---my beloved lute falling on the floors! You've hurt her!"

"We didn't touch your lute," Geralt's response was tepid, lazily blinking back at the enraged bard who stood in the middle of the room.

Jaskier's raised his hands to his hips, raising a finger and opening his mouth, expression wild and ready to send another harangue before back paddling inside his train of thoughts.

He briefly shut his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he wondered out loud, "Oh, maybe the air pushed it to fall. I remembered how I left the windows opened too. However---!"

Geralt cut his verbal onslaught, his gaze narrowing at Jaskier who also didn't back down at sending a nasty lour at the entertained witcher.

"I'll fix whatever is needed to fix, bard. Stop your whining," you've felt the bed squeak and bounce. Geralt slipped his legs out of the sheets, feet plopping down the floors as he heavily sighed. It needed power; manpower for Jaskier to leave the room and Geralt knew he wouldn't leave until he pushes him out of the threshold.

The witcher stood tall and firm, completely au naturel from head to foot like how he have been when he was a baby, stark naked without being moved by the idea that Jaskier was in the same room as you. His bare ass never shaking him off and so does the bard.

"Leave. Out of my chambers, Jaskier."

Geralt sauntered to where he is. Your eyebrows raising in amusement as you've marveled over the witcher in the nude. His beautiful, rugged bare back on show with that A+ rating of his derriere in which you freely tried to memorize inside your head.

Though, you couldn't help but take a glimpse of Jaskier who seemed unfazed by this whole nakedness he was seeing; like he was familiar of the whole thing and the white wolf's dangly bits hanging and it has peaked your curiosity.

Do they bathe together then?

The bard has seen your amused smile with a skeptical brow raised to what you were witnessing. Thus, he peeked around Geralt to acknowledge your curiosity; pointing at you with a roguish grin, "That face tells that you have been swimming deep inside the vast depths of the sea, wondering why I am not bothered by the witcher's nudity---"

"Jaskier," Geralt sent a tired warning and held his slim shoulders, forcefully turning him around as he pushed him forward, towards the door.

"---It's because I have rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom before! It was true! I never lied! It was a part of the rules in becoming the rightful travel companion until you came along and began rubbing it for himself! Though, I doubt you did it to join our adventures!---"

You couldn't help but stifle your tee-hee from his admission. Finding their friendship amazing to the point that he does it for Geralt; receiving nothing but his altruism and adventures that the witcher has shared together with him.

Geralt loudly closed the door behind Jaskier; his mouth running on and on about how such a change of habits it has been when you came in their life. He'd knock a lot of times, calling out for the both of you and trying to want and barge in your moment but your white wolf finally knew what a lock is and slid the wooden block over the hook to lock his chambers.

"He seriously rubs chamomile on your butt?"

The skyclad man turned on his heel, raising a skeptical brow as you tried to focus hard on his face and not his body that stood before you.

"I guess that silence means yes, then. Oof, such bromance! Don't you think I'm the one who's actually becoming a hindrance between your platonic relationship with your bard?"

"Ridiculous." He took several steps closer, making you turn your head from becoming too flustered over his glorious, scarred body that he certainly isn't afraid or diffident about his imperfections anymore after you've treated them like it was a part of him that you will always accept. Geralt sat on your side, reaching over the bedside table to look beneath the drawers.

The latter placed a small, transparent bottle on your hand. A clear yellowish tone of liquid inside as you stared at it, thoroughly intrigued, "What's this? Is it another one of your witcher potions?"

Geralt hummed in negation, lifting his calloused hand to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your head to look at his ardent, shining amber, "Eucalyptus Oil. Took it from Cirilla's chambers. For you---For later. Perhaps, our recent activities had you feeling utterly spent,"

You've blinked, taken aback from his plans for whatever it is he wanted. Though, it didn't take you to put two on two together to know where his plans would take you, "Why are you---Oh. I know. I definitely know what you want." pause. "---you are insatiable, Geralt."

Geralt gently nudged your chin, tilting it up to his advantage as he leaned down to press a soft buss to your lips. Once again, he'd took your breath away by how tender he was handling you. The mere opposite of what people see and expected from because they never had the chance to walk through him; they didn’t have the courage to know who he really was.

His thumb that rested upon your chin were easily replaced with his lips, kissing you on the spot before gliding the dimples of his nose to yours, subtly giving you an Eskimo kiss.

"My overly developed lechery certainly comes from the mutation,"

Geralt's mouth lifted into a small, unusual beam, fluttering his eyes closed as he concentrated on you and that specific comfort he found. Questions came hitting him like stones, breaking the mirthful bubble that he was brought in.

He didn't want you to go home anymore because he'd found home in you.

But, what if fate had move mountains and threw his happiness away again? Leaving him no choice but to watch you go?

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means I can’t tag you, bb’s! 💖) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthor​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum​, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​, @gutfucks​​,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​

General taglist for Henry: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​,

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 3)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 2

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Y/N seem to have woken up with a panic attack and with questions inside her head about on how she would come back to her world. Geralt may have said a solution to it, but it was rather difficult to achieve. Furthermore, it seems as if there was another thing difficult to attain as well which leaves him upset and frustrated with everything. No matter how you were out of place in Geralt's family, you couldn't help but still feel that peculiar warmth you wanted to feel forever.

Warnings: No modern references in this one except for fried chicken. Story title insertion! *wink wink nudge nudge* A lot of Jaskier, Geralt and Ciri banters and a soft but kinda rough Geralt in this one because of certain circumstances. THERE'S TENSION IF Y'ALL BE FEELING IT. AHONHONHON. Mention of Yennefer of Vengerberg in this one. Also explanation of portals and mention of potions used in the game. A lot of talking, less action. You’ll get your action and ANGST on the next chapterSSSSS! 

Words: 6,570+ (LONGGGGGGG AF! I WAS SHOOKTH!)

A/N: Reader is between 5'1 or 5'. You can imagine a 4'11 one if you want to! I JUST REALIZED...HOW...SHE'LL....THEY'LL....ALRIGHT, GET WRECKED, READER! 😅🤣🤣 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @missjenniferb  (I couldn’t tag you bud! A different blog was popping out of the recommendation and it wasn’t your blog. Though, I’ll try again on the next update! Don’t worry!) @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz​ 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well. I’ve taken it from the games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

The sun's rays cascaded on your face. Smell of burned out Oak wood whiffed through the air and filled your senses as faded voices suddenly become apparent for no reason, or probably a reason for you to wake up from your uncomfortable sleeping position.

Was it the TV? You thought to yourself, scrunching your nose from the sun that hit your face and merely from the dust that was flying all over the place. As much as you've remembered, cleaning has been your habit at home and having a dirty apartment was unfamiliar.

The rays of the sun was suddenly hidden from a body who had to lean down to take a good look at your face. You've hardly squinted your eye to blur out the television in the background, shifting your head around and leaning fully on your forehead instead to avoid your cat named Jafar from sniffing your face.

"Princess Cirilla," Geralt deeply groused, his grim seeming to be felt by how brooding he had to put up; inches away from Jaskier and Cirilla who were close to you and around the table, watching you sleep like a baby.

The light blonde princess who had bright ocean blue eyes demanded with a soft kick to the ground, "But, Geralt!" she bellowed with a huff, "I wanna be her friend! You lads aren't fun to be with!"

"She won't stay long, Cirilla. She isn't from our world," Geralt droned and felt the enervation of not having his sleep last night. You were weeping like a toddler all night and his heightened senses weren't helping himself when he could hear those snuffles echoing as he shifted and turned all over on his side of the bed.

It was beyond terrible and utmost irksome.

His initial thought was to help a screaming lady sprinting in the middle of the woods and shoo her off when he's done killing the creature hunting her down. He didn't expect for her to live with them after he did so' just like how Ciri eventually landed on his hands for him to take care of. Amazingly, the adoption he had consist of an explanation, a royal offer from the kingdom of Cintra that involves the Law Of Surprise unlike with you; there was none. Not even a justification as to why you were there with them.

Saving Y/N didn't mean another adoption was up to claim and for him to protect with all his life.

Jaskier sat on the wooden chair in front of you as he deliberated and tried to understand your situation in his own creative wits, "You mean a Teleporter?"

Geralt shook his head, eyes narrowing as he looked at you from the side; assessing your whole ordeal and trying to get a gist of magic in your veins, "No, Jaskier." Howbeit, he'd felt none and it was frustrating the Witcher, "---She doesn't possess magic, I can sense it."

The bard shrugged and disregarded his opinions, giving Geralt a once over before focusing on your hair; momentarily plucking out a small leaf out of your hair which erupted a cock of Geralt's head as he watched Jaskier having no fraught from touching you.

"You know that senses of yours aren't exactly a hundred percent accurate when you've got kicked by a Kikimore and bitten by Ghouls,"

His expression was stoic, glowering before them both and especially from Jaskier's comment. Cirilla had her delicate fingers clasp together and over the side of her face as she admired your sleeping face, "She's so adorable while she sleeps!" she continued to cajole, "---Even a little shorter than me! Maybe she's my age and we can play!"

"She isn't," Geralt ceased her admiration and shook his head, beautiful gold eyes staring at your face that shifted and was now face front as to where he stood from afar, "How certain are you about that? You've only met her last night!"

Jaskier had his fist on his chin, deliberately looking at Geralt with that knowing look.

The Witcher lowly hummed in ponder. Focal point on your sleeping face with a stoic expression, trying to distinguish your length of life from the moment you were born, "Y/N must be in between the age of twenty to twenty-five,"

Cirilla had her eyebrows in a twist as she moved around to take a closer look at you again, a frown from the information that has been said, "But, she looks younger than her age!"

"Not at least in between ninety? or exactly a hundred? Like you, Geralt?" Jaskier added to the dispute. His query making Geralt sigh because he has been repeating the idea like a slow idiot.

"She doesn't possess some sorts of magic nor is she mutated, Bard."

"Maybe she possesses the power of immortality!"

He glared at the bard who gave him a shrug, Jaskier's face still dead beat from how his nap has been ruined prior to the night, but he had more sleep than Geralt did considering he wasn't a Witcher and had senses that not any normal human may possess.

"So her name is Y/N?! Why didn't you wake me up to welcome our visitor?!" The girl in a mint green Kirtle exclaimed, their voices finally coming to your senses and realizing that it wasn't your television nor was it your cat's breath on your face. You whimpered in an attempt to wake yourself up; yawning in the process and languidly bringing your head up for it to be bent at an angle with your arm on the table and fist on your temple.

"You were sleeping," Geralt began, resolving her dismay at the situation at hand, "--and there was a beast, Princess. It was hunting her down,"

"Oh, poor Y/N," Cirilla frowned a tighter one, eyeing you down and peeking from under your arm as she noticed the bruises on your face. She took a second before straightening her back, the braid she'd fixed never turning higgley-piggledy because of how tight and proper it was. A look of interest sent to the Witcher by the princess of Cintra herself and now the future queen ahead, "But, did you kill it, Geralt?"

Their voices seem to be recognizable, the two men of some sort and the kid's voice completely unfamiliar for you. Repetitive blinks full of fatigue before having the energy to sleepily place your chin on your fist, a blurry image of a youthful, lean body and a pretty face of a man sitting in front you coming clearer as you blinked again.

"Isn't it such a sight to wake up to your bruising face early in the morning, small rat."

Your face turned into a tight frown at the image sitting before you. The pillow of your lip jutting out in a pout when you've scanned the whole place and saw Geralt standing with a stern expression on his face, behind a kid who looked taller than you and extremely pretty.

The house even looked more old and primitive in the morning like you're currently living in history which made you groan to yourself because you haven't teleported back to your home as Jaskier said last night.

Great. Just great. You thought in the back of your mind before grumbling, "Can you...stab me with your sword right now?"

The question was sent to the Witcher despite of staring fully on the table. You didn't hear an answer from him as per usual and felt your anxiety rising through your head in agitation like a lighter sparking the gas. It's travelling too fast that you haven't realized the panic shooting wildly.

"I'm still here," you bawled, "I'm still here," and repeated over and over like a dinosaur jumping on rocks whenever google doesn't have internet. The panic was beginning to boil, making your fingers tremble in apprehension as you've struggled to keep in place on your seat, your feet on the ground shaking from the worry. Both hands gripping on your roots as you began to bawl out because you couldn't scream out all your frustrations because that's not how you roll, "I've already slept, I thought I'll be waking up in my apartment already,"

Cirilla took a step back when you've started crying, looking over at Geralt to ask what was happening. Both men together were contemplating as to what was happening as the Bard reluctantly and very slowly stood up as his gaze was fixated on you who kept on mumbling in whispers. He ran behind Geralt like you were a possessed woman and actually thinking you were casting a spell because of how fast you were mumbling your feelings out loud, sounding incomprehensible to the ears of everyone except for Geralt.

Jaskier stood behind Geralt like a kitten shielding behind his mother, "Geralt! I told you! She's a sorceress! One like Yennefer! This is probably why you're fond of her!"

Cirilla examined your state and tried understanding what was happening, her nerves also unsettling about the fact that maybe you were possessed by black magic. Though, she doubt it because you should've attacked everyone already.

Hence, there you were in your own seat. Bawling your eyes out like a toddler who had been left by her parents.

"Geralt? Is she okay?" the pretty child questioned Geralt who stood behind her with a distant look on his face.

His eyes narrowed on you, continuing his perusal. He was trying to fathom what was running inside those mind of yours and when a tear fell and another sniff coming from your side of the cavern, he knew it. A slight turn of his head and his silent thoughts of understanding as he had seen you freaking out and crying like last night; he knew what was happening.

"She's...panicking. Utterly harmless, Jaskier. Just like how humans do unless you aren't actually one," Geralt nonchalantly informed the bard who was hiding behind his towering form. He watched you roughly wipe your tears with the back of your clothed hand; his sweater that was awfully big for you and continued to rant while he narrowed his eyes as your focus was now on the knife set on an empty soiled plate that Jaskier has left.

"I just wanna go home!"

His forehead creased to the extent of trying to figure you out. Shoulders slumping as he breathed out a ragged curse beneath his breath to further his dissatisfaction of your next move.

"Y/N!"

You were fast enough to grab onto the sharpened knife, aiming it to the sensitive portion of your neck. However, not fast enough for the Witcher to even let it happen.

The knife in your hand wasn't even lifted halfway for Geralt to know what you were going to do. He'd seen a lot of bloodshed and known enough people who wanted for their blood to drop out of their hands. It only took two steps for him to construct his onslaught before you've even tried to slit your throat before them.

Your choice of weapon has been sheathed away from you. The tall, brooding, brawny Witcher slightly bending you on the table as he pulled the knife away from your neck with just a grip that didn't even earned him a sweat. It was like taking candy from a baby. Yet, you were pretty much struggling a lot from his strength as you tried wrenching your wrist off his hold with Geralt hunching down before you and never letting go.

Those gold eyes were a charm against the rays of the sun cascading his face. Your faces close from each other and you can see the chagrin and fury swirling in his eyes rather than those plain, apathetic glimmer set in his eyes with a warmth you couldn't express. With that only being seen and stared at, you knew he was furious.

The scary witcher was losing his temper.

"Let me go, Geralt." you firmly stated, voice wavering and sounding small like you were being hunted by a cheetah. Geralt held his scowl better than he had to when he has seen you the first time and it wasn't faltering.

You tried wrenching your wrist away from the Witcher, but he pulled it back with no remorse. Keeping you in place as he seethed; Aurum eyes momentarily taking a glimpse of your dry, chapped lips that were inches apart before settling those peepers on yours again and he wanted to groan out loud for the unsettling emotion he was having, "I would like to see you try, Midget."

Geralt held your wrist tighter around his fingers because you were moving, though; the simple action was enough for you to stop and never even think about doing it again. The strength that he was using was not enough to inflict pain. "I don't need another person's blood on my hands,"

Some of his dirt-ivory colored hair fell on his face as he continued to fume. Expression thoroughly livid as he said those words like it was burnt till dust, a history that should've been left forgotten but was now relived because of your forsaken act.

His warm breath hit your face and you couldn't move at all, like you were powerless and utter putty in his hands. You've heard a grumble vibrated out of his chest before snatching the knife off your fingers and quickly retreating from his position with a frustrated hum, leaving you exhaling out a breath you didn't know you were holding since he has grabbed onto you.

"Wha-what if dying is the only way to bring me back," you've tried to keep yourself in tact despite of the fast beating of your heart and the anomalous heat travelling all over your body. You shook the feeling off with a shake of your head as you continued; looking at Jaskier and Cirilla, avoiding the presence of the man who has been playing with your mind and human heart, "---I've slept, tried everything and still woke up in your house,"

The declaration sounded weak; completely despairing as you've seen Geralt saunter back to where he has been standing before you even tried to slit yourself alive. A tight moue that twisted his features from the act that has happened; filling utter disappointment as the rough crease of his wrinkles wanted to say.

But, he chose to stay silent rather than let out those emotions he was battling with.

You were completely an unorthodox to him. A picture he couldn't see and never wanted to even touch but hoped to imagine.

"I can feel you, I can touch everyone, I can feel sadness, despair, happiness, pain and a lot more," he felt your eyes on him as the first word has been said before reluctantly sharing gazes at the other two who were breathing when you've continued your articulation.

Nevertheless, the act that has happened made Jaskier and Cirilla's breaths hitch because they couldn't believe that it just happened in front of them like it was nothing.

It looked like Geralt has handled the situation well and you were suddenly okay. Just like that. A peculiarity of an event that they couldn't understand.

You've straightened your back and held your hopes high, dubiously taking a trek till you were in front of the people who were nice enough to give you shelter despite of not knowing you from the start; with a goodwill to even save you from an Alghoul that appeared out of nowhere when you should've died already when Geralt wouldn't have jumped into the picture.

But, no. You were still alive and you didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing as the protection came with a fair trade to be living in the world that they were in. A world where you still believed was in earth because of how human they appeared and felt. The only fragment that could keep you in doubt was the monsters that emerges out of nowhere and the magic that these people have been saying. A magic that can't be seen with the naked eye because you haven't seen a supernatural phenomenon yet.

Geralt gave a gravelly hum once you've settled your short self before him, the height differences apparent to the perspective of people. Geralt had his Herculean body in an assertive stance, broad-shoulders poised as you peered up at him with forlorn, the upset frown etched upon your face and he couldn't help but breath through his nose to compose himself.

"I need to go back, I gotta go back. Aren't you a witcher? Can't you cast a spell and help me?"

Jaskier and Cirilla had their forehead creased as they stared at the two. The beautiful child completely unaware of where you originated. She was deep in thought, thinking you came from any of the kingdom or if you were mutated as well just like Geralt because as been said by the witcher, you didn't belong in their world.

The man with glowing Aurum eyes sighed, "Witchers..don't work that way," he claimed with a slant of his head, eyeing you with gall and a slight pacified demeanor after losing his patience a while ago, "---I slaughter beasts, not brew the Fillet of a fenny snake with an eye of a newt nor cast a spell while mixing tons of shit in a cauldron like you thought I was,"

His disclosure was enough to make your heart fail from having faith again. It seems like every darn time he opens those luscious damn lips of him leaves you in a crestfallen shape or he just seems like the type to not give you hope with positive things like this which is why he was failing no matter if he wanted to give comfort.

You've washed your face with your hands in frustration, the fear rising for the second time this day and felt Geralt's heated stare on you, eyes shining in baffling fascination no matter how phlegmatic he wanted to appear. You can just see it in his eyes and it was odd because you've remembered how you couldn't read him like a book the night before, yet here you were; understanding how he tries to interact with you.  

"Then, who can help me? Is there a portal or some sort?"

His eyes looked away for a moment; deeply dwelling a thought inside his head. "Sorcerers create portals of natural phenomena and places that actually exist," the Witcher began roughly, voice utmost in the lowest timbre he could ever do and it almost made your body vibrate from his pitch, "---However, most sorcerers can only link portals to the world they're familiar with and that occurs in having the same witchcraft that a certain world creates," Geralt landed his bright eyes on you as he continued to ponder. An inevitable glower stamping his face as he went on with more information and a tight grimace, "---we aren't exactly certain about your world. But, the contingencies of casting a portal that should've been left untouched can cause upheaval or chaos not just to both worlds, but to the natural habitat and the future as well,"

Your frown was cut short, changing into an ample amount of confusion because of his explanation. Simply to say, the chances of creating a portal will jeopardize not just their world, but also earth as well. If you'll be wanting to cast a portal, there was a great amount of risk ahead.

Geralt continued his vouch, still engrossed at looking you in the eye like he wanted you to melt into a puddle. Your traitor of a heart skipping a beat as you've avoided his eyes and looked elsewhere, "---Which definitely leaves insignificance as to why you're lost in our world when there was no witchery encompassing that earth you call your kingdom,"

"So, there's no hope then?" you pointed out, sapless.

"It takes risks, Midget." Geralt lowly enunciated, the gravel in his voice seeming coherent as he mentioned the nickname he calls you. He looked to the ground, mind wandering off Wonderland as a scowl began to form again, like the next thing he wanted to say should've been kept and not mentioned ever again, "---And a very powerful sorcerer,"

Jaskier's ears perked at that, speculating and trying to involve himself with the topic at hand, his tongue waiting to be moved and for words to be told for reiteration, "Or sorceress," the bard boasted with a tone that made the witcher hiss back at him with contempt.

"Yennefer of Vengerberg could do the job well or some of her associates," the bard jested with a soft push of his elbow to Geralt's ribs, though it didn't even made him flinch. His nose flared back at him, giving him the stink eye before cussing him beneath his breath.

"Fuck off, Bard."

Cirilla ignored their laser eyes and tried to join in the conversation, "Who is Yennefer? I've been asking this since the last two last years!" she pondered, hesitantly raising her hand as if asking the teacher if it was time for her to spit out questions.

"Someone you shouldn't know, Cirilla,"

So, there was really hope. Even only a fourty-five percent of that aspiration you needed for your heart to be filled with faith. You nodded to yourself in understanding, leaving those other questions inside your head and asked straight to the point, "Who is Yennefer?"

Jaskier stepped a foot close, officially involving himself in the conversation with a smug grin on his face. His hands on his hips as he revealed with no shame, "Geralt's long lost love,"

Geralt had to close his eyes to calm himself down from the bard who kept on interjecting in the talk with you.

The princess of Cintra huffed, stomping a foot on the ground as she fixated her gaze at the huge trunk of a man who seemed to be having a moment of meditation, "You didn't tell me you had a lover!"

"Not anymore," Geralt grumbled more so to himself as the crowd asked questions after questions and served their opinions on a buffet plate; open for everyone to hear.

You innocently cast a look to his face. He could also feel your eyes on him and when he'd fluttered them open; it was completely pure for his irksome heart to fall in tranquil, "She's the one of the most powerful sorceress I know," he subtly breathed in your scent, masking himself with it as he tries to remember it in the back of his mind. Becoming familiar to the strong scent that makes his thoughts go in a haywire. A sharp, palpable and fresh scent that he ought and needed to ingurgitate straightaway. Lemon with a hint of peony; definitely different from the scent that Yennefer had, Lilac and Gooseberries. "---Maybe the only one who could create an enigma of a portal," the witcher more so than grumbled, face twisting in a way that made you look up at him in question because he seemed to be in pain, "Then? What are we waiting for? We should find her!"

The mere mention of a person who could help you leave their world quickly placed a warm beam lifting your lips, a sight that Geralt has been struggling to forget since last night. His eyes wandered off elsewhere, missing the catch of your bright filled ones as his nose scrunched from how overwhelming it was to be close to you.

"That's the problem," he gurgled before taking a step back, hissing beneath his breath because of how he was starting to become frustrated again, "---she's nowhere to be found," before turning his back away from you with a grumble.

You watched him walk away from you, embracing all his negativity and feeling your heart plummet because he was acting far from the welcoming man last night. It was like it has never been him that was offering to cover your wounds as he knelt in front of you, all the more; giving you a small smile despite of it not being his forte in doing so.

He was unconventional to you. A book you've definitely wanted to read, yet difficult to understand because the words were such a complex for the naked eye. Geralt was rare and a kind you've never encountered. Literally.

Nonetheless, his presence was intriguing and definitely inveigling.

"I have no hope then," you've thought to yourself, hearing Cirilla and Jaskier banter over something about the sorceress that ignited Geralt's change of heart.

"I'm hungry," Cirilla stressed towards the Bard who was now holding his Lute and plucking with the strings like he was forming another one of his epics inside his head. The bard ignored her and gave Geralt a once over who was on the other end of the cavern, opening wooden cabinets which had all different kinds of concoctions that certainly a normal human cannot take because of how toxic it was and how it was only forbidden and restricted for Witchers.

Cirilla threw a hissy fit, blowing out a breath of agitation and hunger because she was famished. You studied the child and noticed she was a little taller than you no matter how she should've been small. As you've tried to eye-ball her height, she seems to be in between five foot four or five foot three. "What's your name, kid?"

She narrowed her eyes on Jaskier who began to tread to where the Witcher is, "Cirilla," the princess honestly voiced out, palm on her stomach as it grumbled a sound that says she was starving so much.

Cirilla turned her heel to look at you, better than having Geralt stand before you because he was giving you stiff neck from being a tall, brooding man. She eyed you in question and you gave her a sincere smile, waggling your brows at the princess, "I can make food if you want?"

Princess Cirilla jumped on her feet like a child being given candy, clapping her hands in excitement, "Great! A mother figure other than a pair of boys! Geralt and Jaskier make the nastiest food they can ever cook," she jeered with a puff of her breath. Her eyes twinkled in felicity.

She gave you a big wide grin when you've pondered in thought as to what was easy to make in  medieval age; questions numbered inside your head and asking no one in particular if their world had chicken? flour? or bread flour, if they didn't have one? Condiments or any kind of spices for taste. Their time had to have chickens and so, you wanted a modern kind of dish to help yourself as well despite of living like in the past, "I can make you fried chicken, if you want? That is, if you can get me chicken,"

"What is a fried chicken?" she'll definitely love it, you thought because she was a child. Seeing her smile go bright just from hearing it made you heart coo; or it was simply a new image rather than those scowls you have been seeing since the morning has started so the kid had a soft spot in your heart. "An unhealthy dish, but definitely scrumptious,"

You turned your head towards the men who were a little bit far from where you both stood, they were talking in silence and that was completely pristine than the banters you've heard non-stop last night, "---And also a healthy viand for these boys you have,"

Jaskier continued plucking on his Lute, strumming random notes as he hummed inside his head, he gave you and Cirilla a glimpse as the bard watched you both interact with each other like you were both long lost friends, like a natural bond slowly being created, "Maybe this cuckoo of a maiden isn't actually bad to have around," he decreed with a look of sympathy. Turning his head to look at Geralt who seemed to have a furious staring contest with his potions.

"---You should help her, Geralt."

The Witcher languidly blinked, partially shutting the wooden cabinet closed and noting that he was deficient of Cat elixir, a concoction to help him grant sight in total darkness, some Black Blood and Fiend concoction that helps him increases the amount of weight that he can carry without being overburdened. Geralt sighed at Jaskier's confession.

"Do I have a choice?" he gurgled back at the bard.

"Won't a djinn help?"

Geralt gave Jaskier a once over before taking a glimpse of you and Ciri who were now sitting on the table, chatting about certain things that can entertain the princess. Jaskier finally had the tune he wanted, a simple catchy tune but different from his song about Witchers. It just had the same style, "I've already took it down into consideration," the bard hummed, completely intrigued and gave him a look, "We can take risks,"

Jaskier ceased himself from humming, the voices of women giggling in the background coming along in their conversation. The ambiance changing into a lighter tone from the moment you came into their cavern. A thorough spin of the world like it was changing in the different kind of path; it was like seeing a new color for the rainbow that has been added to complete the beauty of it all.

You just had that specific effect that could create allurement to the world wherever you're in. Hence, that was probably your magic.

"But, are you willing to take it, Witcher?"

He was taken aback by the question, a question even asked as a question inside his head. Was he really willing to take the risk in helping this midget? another person on his hand to protect and help? Will it not slip apart due to unfortunate circumstances? Geralt calmly breathed through his nose, his facial features slackening when he'd seen Cirilla's eyes twinkling again despite of what she has been through. "I've been through hell and maybe even deeper than that. Probably already met the devil with it,"

Geralt slanted his head in a way to adore the image right in front of him; though with a face that seemed to be lackadaisical, "---This woman hasn't experienced what I have, not even the slightest and I don't want her to," he suddenly admitted, "---I have no thought as to what curse has this woman been cast upon,"

Jaskier nodded in comprehension and ruth for you; pretty blue eyes admiring the sight before him and Geralt, "Seems quite an unfortunate path,"

"Evil is evil," The Witcher added as a matter of fact, "---Lesser, greater or even stronger," a subtle pause to catch his breath as he eyed you beaming back at what Cirilla has said before he continued, "---She hasn't shielded herself from it, nor does she have an amulet with her; like she was sent here for a reason. She's bound for ill-fate because we're in a world full of animosity and mayhem," Geralt trailed off when you've rummaged for the things in the pocket of your short that was neatly folded on the side of the table.

You've shown Cirilla a small beautiful transparent ball that had rainbow color stars inside. It was a lucky charm for you and it has been given as a gift from your mother back in earth.  

"Do you know Jacks and Stones, Cirilla?"

Cirilla's ears perk at that, a perplexed expression written on her face. "The game doesn't ring a bell, Y/N."

Once Cirilla has seen you grabbed onto the small stones on the space below their window and tried to play on your own, her forehead creasing seemed to relax and a look of elation and familiarity run through her face, "I think I actually know it! Isn't it Knucklebones?"

You've caught the ball and the small stone in one hand with no sweat. She eyed the ball and the stones scattered around the table, her eyes gleaming a lot more than she ever did. "I think so! But, here's the catch! Loser gets a slap on the forehead with a finger and the Winner gets two drumsticks of my special fried chicken,"

"---Oh, you're on, Y/N! I'm great at Knucklebones!" she challenged as she abruptly stood on the table, looking right back at Geralt and Jaskier who were already looking in fascination.

Cirilla demanded in blithe. A big, bright smile shining her face, "Geralt, we need chicken! Catch us one!"

At the mention of that, Geralt couldn't help but repeatedly blink at the wishes from the princess; catching him off-guard. Jaskier couldn't help but send a shit-eating grin to the Witcher who had his brows in another kind of twist, his face wanting to wince but he ceased to.

"I'm a Witcher, not a farmer," he deeply mumbled with a sigh. Cirilla blew a breath, her hands on her hips as she sassed, "Aren't you a butcher of Blaviken? Or do they just call you that?"

The Witcher's forehead creased at the mention of one of his monikers. He didn't want anymore retorts because the princess would drop down more comments for the argument that will last for hours till end just for her demands to be taken into account. Thus, which is why; Geralt was shrewd enough to end her pleading with submission.

"Fine,"

He thought that would be the end of everybody's demand when you've suddenly stood up on your seat and waved a hand to get his attention. Geralt gave you a look of query and with a little bit of tenderness in his eyes that you could undeniably feel no matter how stoic his expressions were. You cleared your throat, grinning back at him like a Cheshire cat.

"Can I come with you? Please?"

"No, midget." He strained, the lackadaisical tone lacing at the end of his tongue. His answer was fast and prudent, entirely against the idea.

You just wanted to be familiar with their world when you'll be staying in it for days, maybe even months or badly for years because of how you didn't know the portal they were saying. All you knew on how to transport was cars, airplanes, boats, bikes and even walking would do the job. But, not with magic and scientific luck.

You pouted back at The Witcher, heart falling from the rejection. Sending him the most pitiful look in your eyes and hoping you weren't looking like a waggling goose before them, "Pleaseee, Geralt? I wanna wander in the woods! Be familiar with the place especially that I've probably going to take time before I go back home," pause. "After Cirilla and I play and know who wins and loses,"

Geralt huffed to himself, an incoherent one as he deeply sighed. Jaskier could hear him from where he stood as he adjusted the leather hoop of his Loot across his shoulder, his witcher of a friend's jaw clenching like he was thinking about it deeply. Before granting permission in the end because of how you were giving him those Hirikka eyes; as said by his inner thoughts out in the back.

"Fine,"

The bard wanted anything but to cough out loud from that submission. Jaskier gave him a double-take. An evident look of surprise in his eyes as he turned his soles to point a finger at the Witcher. Geralt was quick enough to shake his head and slap his finger away with the back of his hand.

"Don't...even start, Bard."

"It's been a day and this small rat already has you wrapped around her finger!" he whisper-yelled at his friend, excitement and jest sparking his nerves which got him grinning like the devil.

Geralt glared at the mischievous bard grinning back at him with the knowing look that they can only both understand, "When will you bloody shut up?"

"When I don't have the voice to poetically sing my wonderful epics," Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms on top of his Lute with that mocking glint in his eyes. The Witcher smirked back at Jaskier, spitting out a particular jest that could get him back-paddling, "Guess I'll need a travel companion in finding another Djinn,” 

Jaskier blinked in surprise, taking a step back as he shook his head and had a hand on his hip while the other was wiggling in the air to express his negations, "Oh no no no, Witcher! Keep me out of your heroic attempts of gathering some kind of genie! I am done!" the bard ridiculed as he took hesitant steps back, slowly and slyly taking off before Geralt carries him on his shoulders to purposefully tag him along in finding another Djinn, "I figured playing this jacks and stones with Cirilla and Y/N will be much better instead,"

Jaskier halted from his silent, sneaky egress. Giving both women a glimpse who were playing behind him, "A BARD WISHES TO JOIN YOUR WONDERFUL ADVENTURE, LASSIES!"

He snapped his head back at Geralt who simple wore a crooked smile and a look of mockery filling his perfectly chiseled face, "Off you go, Witcher of the night," the rascal waved him off, a gloaty banter being thrown back to the smug witcher, "I have also yet to create another knightly epic for an intriguing love story that is bound to unfold in the far north of Kaedwan,"

Thusly, Geralt's crooked smile was rapid to fall. His face masking in condemnation when Jaskier began to strum his lute and with a tune that would probably haunt his friend as he tried to sleep through the night.

"Doeful eyes like a dear~ Seems like a Witcher who couldn't bear~,"

Jaskier's singing has made history through different places in the continent and he was never wrong with the epics he'd been orally singing out around which is why this new song he was forming to create would either be a complete disaster, a mere tell-tale or a myth that was bound to end up in the vast veracity of the epic told.

IT’S ALL FUN AND HAPPY NOW. BUT, Y’ALL WILL SEE THE WRATH OF ANGST WHEN THE CHAPTER GOES FURTHER!

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 21)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 20.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Bearing the child from a man who promised was sterile gave more anxiety as you lived in their world, knowing that Geralt will resent as the offspring was forged by a cursed spirit that held her own reasons and consequences. Your fate becoming more complicated as each day pass by with a dreading feeling that you surely have no idea about.

Warnings: The usual blasphemy. Lore about the Djinn. (I've made it up) Matka means 'mother'. Ingrith is an OC of mine so she ain't real in the witcher story. Hehehe. (Surprise! Guess Geralt knew Ingrith after all. HE LIED. LMAO. 😂😅🤣) Panicking reader. Pregnancy. 

Words: 5.4k

A/N: Is this a boring chapter? I dunno. But, it will provide everyone the lore they need for some of your questions to be answered. I forgot to actually edit this because I was too focused on ranking up in Free Fire. Hahahahah. 😂 Had to edit this a day before I actually publish it in Tumblr. (I usually take 2 days because everybody loves to disturb me in my house. Also I need to manually tag people in taglists, check my grammar and typos. Oof. It makes me squint my eyes too hard on the screen because of how small the letters can be) 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. I only own my original characters in this fanfic. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Geralt of Rivia,"

Vicious and cunning as she may seem, her tone was utterly redolent. Familiar faces finally met in such a fate that not any fortune teller may assume would happen. Loved ones being involve in adversities that has been unflattering for the witcher who stood before the queen's long associate in the castle of Kaedwen, a victorious smirk warping her sharp-edge face that Geralt has not reciprocated. Twisted in a smile that tells she was hopeful over her plans being moved into the right places.

"---I knew you would come," Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact.

The witcher knew that this encounter was inevitable for the second time. Their previous meeting lingering inside his head---being the reason why he chose to live in the outskirts of Kaedwen which eventually made him tarry a bit over going to Kaer Morhen after receiving no answer from her. Receiving much of an answer he needed through Cuthbert, his neighbor who happened to heard rumors about 'her' whereabouts more than from the sorceress he'd decided to talk with.

He'd finally knew where Yennefer has been travelling when you've arrived, his search being an easy one as Geralt discovered her location after trying not to seek for the sorceress he has been looking for years---ending up knowing her area when he gave up finding the sorceress after a month or so.

"Where is she?" he beseech his avows, the scowl stern and never fading as he was eager to see you since the moment he step foot in the castle.

"Yen or your futile human? Oh, it wouldn't be that cursed princess you've butchered in Blaviken because she's already dead, Geralt."

The cunning sorceress tutted before him as they stood at the foot of the abandoned round tower, no guards being publicly seen because of the fact that they were too much of a milksop. Ingrith, Tybalt and Eanraig---the ones who had cabbalistic abilities were the only people who tries to take care of the prince. His own parents and siblings never giving bother about checking how he was doing despite of being harmless in daylight.

"---You've disappointed me---I knew you had a penchant for sorceresses or women whom you could consider as your kind---strong, discerning....and even whores paid to entertain you through your pitiful solitude,"

Ingrith went on with her vouching, leaning her head to the side with a knowing gaze inside her eyes; a forewarning that she was dismayed from his foolish decisions that she finds, continuously mocking his settlements, "---But, you've chosen a useless woman who could not defend herself even by telling the queen that she was not the thief who has stolen her precious necklace,"

The butcher barred his teeth, jutting his jaw forward as he felt his back turn tense and rigid from how he was turning furious as each second passes by with the sorceress he'd regretted to seek for help before---not knowing she would also be the person to afflict pain for his midget in the future.

"You've told the queen that she stole her jewelry when you know it wasn't her, not a canny persuasion made, Ingrith."

Her grin turned bigger, finding his anger satisfying and entertaining in her perspective. Ingrith could disguise as a devil and nobody would notice because of how wicked she'd been turning herself into; a wretch that Geralt have seen from her with the sacrilegious intentions living inside her mind.

"I've expected more from you than to choose and defend a mortal, Witcher."

"---I've remember the night we first met," she continued to ran her mouth, sardonic as she gladly hinted. Ingrith could see the blaze in his golden eyes, how he wanted to unsheathe his sword that was carried behind his back to show her his indignation for everything---from leaving her niece in the hands of her father who detested her due to deformity.

Hence, she has left young Yennefer with no guilt in her eyes despite knowing everything---leaving the past behind and acting like it never happened, taking the initiative to ignore her whereabouts and look the other way from how she grew into a strong woman.

"You were asking Yennefer of Vengerberg from me," she stepped a foot closer towards the witcher, making Geralt deeply breathe through his nose from his pique and lack of personal space that she was trying to bombard him with.

Ingrith couldn't help but let her grin fall when Geralt took a step back, steering clear from her suggestive gestures as he gave her a low hiss and rumble of his chest when he added words to complete her sentence, "---and you had other plans,"

"I've had better plans for us, Geralt."

"I do not wish to be involved by those treacherous plans of yours. You want power---you wanted to become stronger. Settling yourself in the castle to do what you want. Even planning to extirpate your own niece because she is more powerful than you,"

The sorceress scoffed to herself, exasperated from how he blocked her advances. His amber filled with fury as it has still not yet died down after going the deep end. Her trials involving on discouraging his faith for a mere mortal like you. Her ears felt like it was being rattled from the inside, triggering her pride and ego over being told that she was below of her niece in terms of strength and magic, "Yennefer of Vengerberg? She is not powerful as you may seem, Witcher."

"You've left her alone with people who do not care for her,"

"Sorceresses don't die easily than mortals. It's in her blood; our blood, Elven blood. You know this."

Geralt couldn't help but give her a snicker, the small curl of his lip raising in disbelief for her intentions over you and being involved in his god-forsaken life that he didn't want you to be a part with, "You want my mortal to die,---" he gruffly muttered, the words tasting bitter on the ends of his tongue for the idea of you dying in his arms.

"---I won't let that happen, not until I'm alive, Ingrith."

The witcher continued to brood like how people described him to be; his mood turning sour for not seeing you yet and not knowing what was happening to you as it kept his chest bothered and heavy. Ingrith's features warped into a twist, her nose scrunched from how distasteful she found his protection over your vulnerable, weakened self; how pathetic he was caring for a mortal that could die easily especially having the curse, you were more impuisant than any other woman in the continent because a curse had effects and consequences.

His safeguarding would be useless because of the inevitable juncture that would give him sorrow and Geralt had no idea what he was in when he was trying hard to shelter you out of harms way.

Ingrith crossed her arms, shaking her head at his determination, "She'll eventually die, witcher. It's her fate in the continent. Humans like her reach their demise with misery and regret because they're nugatory, serving no purpose but to be insignificant over us,"

The latter turned his back away from her, ending the discussion with his perseverance being unyielding, shaking his head for her estimated fortune telling that he believed was a lie; understanding that she was only saying it because you didn't belong to their world and you were at high risk over danger for the chaos living in the continent.

"She won't die nor will you have the opportunity of doing so,"

"Her existence would bring more despair; more sorrow for your fate. She's just a nuisance value of human kind!" Ingrith loudly exclaimed from behind, watching him courageously push the doors to the round tower where the cursed prince has been living. Disregarding her warnings like the wind passing through.

He heard her but didn't give any acknowledge over her words. Whether it was true or not, the witcher may never know unless the day that Ingrith has been foretelling has actually been damned after all.

The fairly large throne room was filled in luxury, themed in gold and red. Such color that simply tells how their bloodline lived around the hierarchy that they highly take care of. Blood and coins. It says all. Their ornaments and artifacts spent with coins seeming to be conceived in detail for their palace rather than for the people who deserved it better living in Kaedwen.

Queen Makeda tapped her fingers along the arms of her throne, her gaze sharp and pondering over Geralt and Tybalt who stood in the middle of the room. Both having an obvious lour; deepening when she started to give orders about what was to be expected over the hunt, any hints as to where the witch has been rumored to be last seen or any more information that must be shared before Geralt takes off.

"Tybalt shall be coming in search for the witch with the witcher,"

Prince Markith, he was the queen's younger son before Prince Althalos. A lot more younger than the cursed man, immature as the maids say so. He stood beside his seated mother, wearing a simple doublet over his black breeches. The fading freckles on his cheeks stretching when a giggle escaped his lips; an obvious space between his two front teeth shown as his laugh echoed around the throne room that has gotten Geralt to give a gander.

"Witch. Witcher. Witchest." the teenager playfully mumbled beneath his breath, finding amusement over the whole thing going on with his family especially seeing the white haired witcher all brooding and silent, subtly mocking his kind in the least offending way as possible.

The queen immediately given him a sharp warning of her gaze, cocking her head to the side and seeing her son continuously chuckling from his own joke, having his own world that he always manages to live in. Seeming to be like he had imaginary friends rather than real ones that his parents seclude him amongst children because Markith should be remained untouched from the filth that people had.

"Markith, that is not a proper attitude of a prince," she lowly scolded in the midst of talking, the child's interruption obviously irking her temper.

Markith raise a brow, the child's tone utterly sardonic as he spoke, "But, I'm not the crown prince. Brother is. But, if brother dies then---"

She cut him off with a brusque hiss, "He will not die from our hands! He will live and rule the future of Kaedwen,"

"Does this kingdom even have a future when it is ruled by your hands?"

Quietude filled the throne room after her son's sarcastic retort. The silence was frothing; bubbling from her expected aggravation over the younger prince's shameless answer. Much to her chagrin, she has never received an apology nor an explanation as to why Markith suddenly blurted it out in the open for Geralt to hear.

Upon hearing those words coming from a child, the witcher couldn't help but stood nonplussed. His expressions coming off as emotionless with his brooding charm jumping off the four corners of the room. In which has received a glower from the vampire who also stood beside him, his eyes seeming to be taking Geralt much more of his attention when they were both called to stay beside each other.

Queen Makeda raised a finger, ushering one knight to march his way up the numbered stairs under the lavish canopy where the king and queen's throne sits.

"Bartley, bring him back to his chambers," she roughly ordered, her teeth barred as she glared at Markith who was also feral for disregarding his opinions over their corrupted reigning throughout their kingdom. Bartley gave a courteous bow for the queen before walking to where her son stood, forcefully grabbing onto his shoulders as he gently pushed him around to leave.

"But, Mother---"

The queen never takes no for an answer. Hence, one loud yell was all the child has taken before being thrown out, his gaze lingering longer at the witcher whom he has heard tales about; having quite the eagerness to see if the tales were true to their words. Yet, his mother decided to lock him up in his room again for being curious and playing around.

"Now!"

Geralt stood completely still. The scowl never changing as he gave a heavy sigh, seeming like the world was carried on his burly, armored shoulders. His sour mood being the result of your prior, quick separation before he even walked to the throne room. Your pained words ringing inside his head for a thousand times like a plague that he had finally not been immune for.

He shouldn't have left you in that condition especially when you were physically injured. Geralt actually just proved to you how much of a witcher he was; cantankerous, blunt and emotionless even though you've had this strong faith for him that you believed being the opposite of it.

But, he just needed to fuck it up by leaving you without a word and also calling you pathetic in such ways.

The butcher continued eating his own heart out by staring at the queen with brooding eyes, waiting for the go signal for his hunt. He wanted to get this over with; planning to do his job right and find the witch, bring her in the castle to reverse the spell then off you go with him. Leaving all of these behind as a past that you would never forget or decide to forget forever if you wanted to.

Tybalt audibly scoffed for Geralt to give him his regard, taking the side-eye from the witcher as he publicly stated his cavils, "Why am I traveling with him now, yer' majesty? to be his guard? Hilarious!"

One familiar hum was heard; gruff and utterly sarcastic once Geralt began to frankly acknowledge. His hostility over the vampire obvious when he has opened his mouth, "I work better alone and away from blood sucking monsters." a feigned curl of his lips appearing to be a smile has been received towards the queen, her quick understanding seeing that it was a forced one that Geralt was trying hard to perceive over his altercations.

"---I'm a witcher. I slaughter beasts. Monsters of any kind."

In the spur of the moment, Geralt turned his head to let Tybalt see the mocking flicker inside his golden eyes.

Tybalt knew he was pertaining to his kind. Vampires. He couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, his nostrils flared while the witcher was trying to get on his nerves---or he just basically hated the higher vampire to send his animosity by being forthright, "What ye' lookin at, Weccan?" he sneered back at Geralt with barred teeth while the white wolf had the end of his lip curled into a leer, irked by his smug pillorying in the presence of the queen like he didn't give a fuck.

He really didn't especially when he wanted to behead everyone in his way.

Geralt's presence was already making Tybalt's hackles rise without even trying to nettle his temper. The image of his newly bathed hair was already narking him without even seeing his face and the feeling was mutual for both enemies.

Tybalt began forming his own ridicules, seeing the witcher become the object of his scorn.

"Your skin is as pale as your tresses. I doubt you still have any amount of blood in ye'!"

"The joke's too old. I'll assume you've asked me if I do bleed." the white wolf was nonchalant as he quipped. Displaying to be quite blase from his attempts of hurling more anger out of him when he was too furious from the start to even begin with.

"---Witcher, do you bleed?"

Geralt couldn't help the most jaded expression he could ever muster upon hearing the most asked question, uttering out a grumble of his insouciant timbre of his voice that has gotten Tybalt bellowing from his remark.

"My blood's not tasty enough for you. Don't bother."

"This feckin' arse!"

They've both sent each other deep growls against their chests, a low rumbling sound that was bouncing off the castle walls that everyone who was inside the throne room could notice as they stood side by side, giving each other glares and their derisive taunting.

Queen Makeda had a finger supporting her head from falling. Her arm folded and leaning against her throne whilst sighing over their random twits. Foot tapping along the stoned floors as she gave them both her enervated attention.

Tybalt's fixated gaze has been cut short when he'd knelt on the ground with one knee, bowing his head to pay his respects for the queen---probably, seeking support over not letting him travel with the witcher who must have a difficult time finding the witch that couldn't be found at all; not wanting to share his time with Geralt because their personalities were clashing against each other like rusty, acidic metal, "---Your highness, If you're worried about him dying in the middle of saving yer' witch whom can lift Prince Althalos' curse, I can assure you, he will not die. Legend says witchers die from monsters they hunt. The witch obviously isn't---"

The queen has raised her palm to cease his comments, completely unimpressed by how privileged he was being when it was her decision whether he would let him go or not.

"I can see how you both despise each other," she plainly stated, sounding nasally like she was too disappointed by Tybalt's actions.

At the mere exclamation of that, both men spoke in the same time. Their antipathy colliding even with their words sounding exactly what they felt for one another.

"Hate him." Geralt and Tybalt both snarled with such rancor, glaring for one more time before partially giving their whole attention to the queen who sat before the throne.

They've seen her mouth turn into frown, turning a blind eye towards the higher vampire who was left sulking for his sudden hunt. His plans with his sorceress coming to a stop for the queen's orders, intending to guard all your whereabouts in the palace as Ingrith tries to formulate a scheme to have you suffer without raising their hands on you nor using magic that will eventually fail because you were protected by a djinn.

"Tybalt. Be with the witcher. I want you guarding him until he finds the witch. The witcher shan't go back empty handed."

Tybalt couldn't help but curse beneath his breath, subtly rolling his eyes as he stood on both feet, adjusting his fur coat resting along his shoulders, "Oh, feckin' bullocks." before shaking his head as he forced a nod and approval out of him to gesture at the queen of Kaedwen.

Geralt calmly tried his best to exhale in a relaxing demeanor, his facial features twisting in utmost pique from the idea that he would be spending five days with the vampire he had a fight with back in the marketplace.

"Fuck." he lowly snarled to himself, momentarily shutting his eyes to breathe in disappointment. His head cocked to the side. Geralt felt Tybalt grip onto his armored shoulder, giving him a shallow pat to state his indignation with the whole ordeal. He turned on his heels, marching out of the throne room to fetch and pack his belongings for the journey ahead, quickly jogging out of the throne room that was making him want to curse as every second passes by with the witcher.

Queen Makeda can't help the snicker on her face, a smile forming wrinkles on the apples of her cheeks as she stated her false promises.

"You have my word about your little woman, Witcher. We will not touch her again."

Though, Geralt knew deep inside that it was all just a lie.

You've been receiving lots of personal questions from the druid. One of his queries was about the idea of wholeheartedly accepting a child from Geralt which you explained an approval if it was given in the future---or if he was even capable of giving you one. You strongly believed he can't.

Though, in the back of your head, you couldn't help but think how your child would look like with his genetics. Will she or he have white hair too? you gotta' have a child with beautiful genes somehow. An echo of hopeful, deranged voices filled your thoughts, quickly disregarding the thought in the back of your crazed head whilst hearing Eanraig bombard another question of his that kept you aware of how zealous he sounded.

"Do you love Geralt?"

"Woah. Hold your horses, Eanraig."

Subtly swallowing the anxiety away from hearing such question, you've warily cleared your throat. Your mouth wincing from the pungent taste of your after-retch. The inconspicious nullify of the subject taken heed by the scholar when you've avoided his eyes.

In-denial of the truth. Eanraig thought silently to himself while he brought his hand down, away from patting your back, "You will be giving the witcher a miracle," he lightly convinced you and decided that particulars shall be provided for the mother of the miraculous child growing inside; delaying the details with the father that would surely bring him into a shock and red-light from the witcher himself because of how having a pickney in the midst of his life will only bring his descendant danger.

"---From the night of the full moon, between a man and woman who had nature take its course, a child shall be produced,"

Mentioning that in a hot second, you were quick enough to counter the lie you ought to believe in. Trusting Geralt and his words more than ever because he knew himself better than anyone else especially in 'that' department. Thorough objection was promptly written all over your shocked, disapproving expressions; brows furrowed in worry with lips turning ajar for such sensible responsibility being given to your head like a crown fitting for you.

Was Geralt lying and he actually just wanted to get you pregnant? If so, then he was certainly a wacko for even doing it---in your world he could be arrested for lying.

"Geralt's infertile! What are you even---?!?!" you couldn't finish your sentence as the responsibility for having your lechery take over you a few nights ago was worth enough to blame. How did Eanraig knew when it hasn't reached a month after a tangle of passionate desires with the witcher? did everyone knew about it but not you both? was it why you were being hated by Ingrith because she knew you were bearing Geralt's child?

A ton rounds of bulleted questions rang inside your head after one query hasn't been answered. One by one it was hopping like rabbits chasing a baited carrot because on the other side of your head, it knew answers for your disputes within yourself.

Panic and fear over an unborn child was beginning to take a toll as you grabbed onto your roots, frustratingly tugging on them while you listened to Geralt's old friend.

"Infertile or not. As long as the other is human who possesses no magic---or better yet, both humans who possesses no magic shall receive results beyond their expectations. I have never told Geralt about this because he will never believe me. A Witcher does not take that kind of news too well---might be even saying that he would take his child as a bait to be eaten by monsters than to bring them to this world,"

You've pursed your lips, finding how true it was to hear those words from the witcher knowing that you were pregnant by his child. Was this a hoax? a dream that God wanted you to never wake up from?

Being transported to their dimension; loving a mutated human you never expected to and eventually baring a child from him when he knew he could never bore a child at all. Was this your destiny for him? giving him miracles---a child that he certainly didn't expected and needed because accepting his child of surprise was already difficult for him to undertake.

"I can totally hear him saying that." you uttered completely defeated and benumbed from the breaking news that made you forget how upset you were by Geralt's prior actions.

"You are having his child, my dear. You're carrying his scion that has been forged by the Djinn." Eanraig started his elucidation about the serious topic at hand, educating you about the accelerated gestation that the Djinn's curse may come between. Earlier telling you about the expected development because you might be seeing changes over your body than how a normal woman will be expecting.

"---The process is faster. Three times hastier than a normal pregnancy---Though, never fear for the child not to be normal."

With sangfroid, the breath that you've been holding has been puffed out with your eyes drooping closed; letting the calmness sink in without having the panic rise through your head for a hundred times because of the thought that the child would turn out different in which she may suffer in the end.

Until Eanraig decided to continue his statements that has given you whiplash.

"---Because that child is beyond normal. She'll inherit the Djinn's powers because it is a part of Matka's three wishes."

"She?" you've managed to feebly and shakily mutter beneath your soft breath, feeling the coldness wrap around you for knowing more about the child that you were currently bearing---keeping you in a constant disorient that had you staring onto your twitching fingers laid upon your thighs.

"I'll assume that the Djinn you have gotten was a Matka. The cursed Djinn who lovers try to find in order to bore an heir if they cannot create their own offspring. Matka was created to give her own powers to a progeny that would inherit her abilities---believing that her existence will help the world from lessening the bedlam within the lore of monsters and humanity,"

"You're telling me I'm really pregnant with a girl? with...with Geralt's child? This child is also...owning such power that is making me hyperventilate right now?! Is it a vampire?! What if it eats my insides just like how Edward's baby did?!" your back was still utterly stiff from the nervousness that this news has given you, the mere fact of taking care of a powerful baby pouring ice buckets on your head---the dread hitting your core from the stupefaction and fear raising a child of your own.

Your modern references has given Eanraig a nonchalant stare from him, never knowing to laugh or smile over your panicky state.

"Is the witcher a vampire?" he hesitatingly spoke, his throat sounding dry before Eanraig cleared his throat when he'd lately realized.

"No."

"Then, it shall not have any vampire blood."

Skin felt tingling as your heart couldn't stop the beating so fast, throwing you into a swivet, "I'm not prepared to be a mother, Eanraig!"

You couldn't help but reach a hand to clasp around your tightening throat, further listening to Eanraig. His expositions making you want to give him a bark of laughter due to the disbelief over what reality that destiny started giving you when the Djinn happened.

"The continent has its own supernatural contingencies that nobody may ever explain---which has given you a child of yours with the witcher. Your kingdom knows no magic based on your reactions, correct?" the druid raised a brow and grabbed both of your shoulders, firmly letting you look into his grey eyes that continued inspiriting your devastated self.

You've tentatively shook your head to give an answer. The dread gripping your heart so tight that you started breathing heavily, your fingers suddenly grabbing onto your stomach because of the sudden memory that the castle guards have placed a kick to your gut. The worry for your unborn baby bringing you into utter distress for her condition.

A loud gasp left your lips, "Wait, I've been---I've been abused---hurt---what about my child, Eanraig? If---If Geralt knows about this now, he wouldn't want my child, would he?"

"I...may never know what he thinks, little woman. He hardly speaks. Only to you, the bard and his surprise child, I assume."

"Then, should I keep this from him?"

"I doubt his mutations can keep your pregnancy as a secret,"

Panicking more than ever, you've felt your eyes well up with warmth. Signalling tears threatening to come out of it as both of your palms were on either side of your head. Quiet whining were heard in the back of your throat for the future that was bound for you especially by being thrown on the face by a brick, the brick being fate moving mountains for the witcher and his ill-fate infertility---that has been surprisingly controlled by the power of magic; black magic.

"Then, what do I do?! I don't want to raise a child on my own when I'm not even prepared to be a mother?!" Eanraig heard the sobs from you and he'd quickly gathered all of the comfort he could give by patting you on the back, calming down that tough anxiety you have.

"Cease the tears," he continued to pat, "---It'll be bad for you and the child,"

"I have a witcher baby! What do I do?!" you ranted and raved, sniffing in the same time as your fingers spread across your chest, feeling it tighten a lot more because of this serious matter. Time stood still for you, imagining what Geralt would say or tell when he couldn't even accept your love; when he was still secretive over things he wasn't comfortable about telling.

Would he be fine to have a child with a woman who was in love with him when he doesn't even know his true feelings for you until now?

"I don't know how to tell, Geralt! I don't wanna let this child grow without a father---what if I leave this world all of a sudden without him? Eanraig, what if he dies out there right now and this child grows up without a father?"

You knew, he would refuse the child you were having because of how he had a long time accepting Cirilla. A child who has already been taken care of by another---what more for a baby that he certainly had no experience of having nor wished to have?

The druid welcomed all your rants over such an important and surprising incident that existed in the white wolf's life. Completely knowing for it to be an unexpected route in his path that Eanraig could never see for him. He gave one last comforting pat on your back, nodding to you as if he was trying to let his words seep inside your head---your apprehension that he solely hoped to be the maturity of your mind.

"Let fate decide what will happen. You'll eventually need to tell the father of your child---and the witcher will know about it soon,"

Little did you know, there was already a tiny beat of a heart that seem to be inaudible for a mortal; but not for a witcher who had sensitive hearing created to catch onto the tiniest rustle of leaves till the quietest thumps of every heart.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings, bb’s! Thank you.) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @deadlydemon​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @angelofthor​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​, @gutfucks​, @raynosaurus-rex​, @britty443​, @suhke3​, @shadowclawstudio88​, @ruthoakenshield​, @just-a-sad-donut​, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg​

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[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 19) (With visuals included 😉)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8) (Posted earlier today, thank you very much for my thirst! Heehee!)

CHAPTER 18

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Evil is evil. People and abomination may be the reason why the world can't be a better place especially in the continent.

Warnings: Blood. The 'Kikker' mentioned here ain't a real monster in the witcher. I just made it up. A bloody, thrashed reader. A maddened, feral, tired witcher. Degrading names. People being assholes. With Geralt’s visuals included but I don’t know how this is a warning?

Words: 5.6k

A/N: A story cannot consist of only glitters and rainbows. Sometimes, it's better to add darkness in it and a ton shit of angst. Heh. I’m cackling with the Geralt GIF’s I’ve included. It’s like he’s so bored and done af while talking to anyone. 😭😂😂😂 GERALT, OH GERALT. I DESERVE A KISS GERALT FROM HOW DEDICATED I AM TO YOU! Please appreciate my effort, people! LMAO 😭😂💗 ENJOY AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It was at around nightfall when Geralt of Rivia has arrived at the foot of the castle's barbican, his swords lunched on his back with bags in his hand and a sour expression written on his picturesque face that screams he wasn't there for a peaceful negotiation.

He'd calmly walked along the aqueduct, his footsteps heavy and impatient as he dropped his bags on the ground, familiarizing over the enormous castle that stood before him and he couldn't help but sigh, atopic of the whole vibe that every castle has given the white wolf. He really didn't want to cross paths with the royals ever again after that show he had by helping Jaskier and he hoped that his help for you didn't include another child of surprise that can happen.

Group of cavaliers shielded the gates with their swords on their hands. Geralt kept silent with a stern purse of his lips and a tightened jaw, he heavily sighed another one and continued to be uncommunicative when one equestrian audibly nagged for what the butcher of Blaviken needed.

Geralt deliberately rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giving them a scowl in which they've didn't took it very nicely as they began to draw their swords.

The witcher has heard footfalls echoing from the castle, hasty and restive and it didn't take a second for Geralt to see the king's close friend and an advisor for the royal family emerge from the gates.

Eanraig came forth out of the port; one of Caed Myrkvid's druids and someone whom Geralt has been talking to since decades ago where he has visited Caed Dhu and having their first meeting in the black forest.

The scholar wore a brown long, surcoat as he step foot out of the gates, his white long beard and wild, unwashed gray wavy hair stopping on the tips of his shoulders. Thin lines of wrinkles crafted his face which has given him the look that he was nearly old. His grey colored eyes wholly jiggered to see the white wolf in the foot of their fortress and with an expression that simply tells him that he was pissed.

He always does look like it but the druid knew that Geralt was truly feeling that way and it wasn't just his normal face that you see everyday.

"Yield your swords this instance!"

Geralt gave him a nonchalant flicker of his eyes, opening his mouth to gruffly speak, "Eanraig." his face remained stoic, his timbre sounding utterly lackadaisical when he addressed the scholar.

Eanraig trudged his way to where he was. The soldiers immediately surrendering their weapons down as they firmly stood from side to side, watching the two acquaintances converse in a quiet and calm talk. The druid was cordial as he gave a smile, "Geralt of Rivia. They have been expecting you,"

"Hmm." the latter hummed out of nowhere, narrowing his golden amber eyes at the Elder Druid in acrimony, "---they've taken what's mine. I've been told to never step foot within the berm of eminent citadels,"

Sardonically speaking, Earnraig tilted his head to the side. The flicker in his eyes humorous and mocking, "Yet, here you are, witcher." he throatily chuckled and croaked, his voice sounding drier than usual due to being long in the tooth, "---I shall guess, you are here to save a lover?"

Geralt kept his mouth in a tight thin line, shifting his eyes away from the druid with his question unanswered by the witcher.

"What unlucky fate you have, Geralt. Your lovers always bring out the worst in you---because you don't appear to be in the greatest and friendliest condition,"

"When did I ever?" the white wolf hoarsely mumbled beneath his breath, sighing in the process of it all as he frowned, taking heed of the feeble man before him. His tone was derisive and saturnine for what caustic comment he curtly claimed, "---How are you keeping up with their scoundrel works of art?"

Eanraig smiled; though, Geralt read that it wasn't meant to say he was jovial over the regime and changes he has noticed when the world began to change. His smile was brittle and unconvincing, "I never did. Since Tybalt arrived and has been taken as the crown for our army of gallants, destitution has taken its place. Heedless for the Kaedwenians because of how the vampire is capturing women for safe keeping, greasing his own palms by selling them to anyone who will want them,"

The witcher expected that answer before even asking. He nodded back at the druid, completely austere and phlegmatic as he kept silent; not letting the scholar know what he was thinking. Eanraig lifted a hand to give Geralt a pat on his burly, armored shoulder.

"King Veduka and Queen Makeda will speak to you once we get there," pause. "---And I doubt they'll be happy to see a witcher who has rejected their favor after two years. Come,"

As that has been said, the gatekeepers unbolted the entryway; given the approval from the king's advisor as Geralt grabbed his belongings, stringing along with him as they walked the route towards where the gatehouse is. The earth toned portcullis at its full defense as he sees it from far north.

"I wouldn't be helping their beloved cursed prince when they haven't coerced me into complying, Eanraig."

The druid strolled objectively alongside Geralt, continuously discoursing in the subject about who made him adhere to the king's favors---taking one person for abduction and he was already showing himself to them with no begging included unlike staying thoroughly surreptitious in the deepest parts of Kaedwen's forest. Only one woman was needed for him to accept such.

"If only you would've seen how they saw this as an opportunity to benefit them. I know your woman doesn't belong to this world. They knew your weakness, Witcher."

Eanraig has heard him hum, lower than his usual habit of susurration and it sounded like a sound of disapproval, "The sorceress has plans for her. Tybalt has hunted down a woman who exactly looks and sounds like her. But, exactly the opposite from her characteristics. She was one of Kaedwenians sly thieves."

Savia. He suddenly remembered out of the blue as he kept tacit. She was the woman who looked exactly like you despite of having the contrary of her traits over yours. Geralt pondered over the thought, finding it difficult to decipher how there was another person like you in his universe, a doppleganger of some sort that was entirety a clone of your genetics. Maybe Savia was a doppler or his midget? No. You were teleported to their dimension with no magic nor strength to do so.

What was seriously happening in the continent?

Eanraig saw how Geralt was in deep thought for what was shared; never one to beat around the bush; he enunciated straight to the point, "The king has been convinced that she's her twin. Howbeit, I never believed it nor did Ingrith or Tybalt. It was the queen's manipulation because her double has taken one of her favorite Cobalt necklaces that was given by the king,"

"---and now, they are starving her to death. Even walloped with a stick on her back till she was bleeding and wounded,"

The sentence has given Geralt a whiplash. He ceased from walking alongside Eanraig, his stature turning rigid and immobile with his jaw clenching for what was heard. Did he heard him right?

You are being aggressed in the hands of another when he does not lay a single hand on you; being battered by humans who didn't know exactly who you are nor do they have proof that you are the person who has stolen items from the queen.

"What?"

Eanraig's fair share of talk explains why his chest felt suffocating and utterly uneasy. They were hurting you till the heart of the sorceress was content enough.

The druid continued his blabbers, heedful of Geralt's stiff stance and his sudden reclusive mood, "---Ingrith told the queen that she was somehow cursed with a fate just like you,"

It wasn't a second of waiting till Geralt hoarsely mumbled his feelings out in the open and only for the scholar to hear, "Fuck." he raved, the witcher's thick eyebrows in a tight twist. His forehead creasing with deep wrinkles for his blood to boil even faster. He turned his head to the side, his teeth tightly gritted together as he went livid.

"That doesn't sound quite nice," Eanraig shifted his attention towards the raging white wolf who was glaring at the tall castlewalls in front of them, shooting daggers after daggers with his fists tightly clenched on his sides. A predatory glaze in his glowing eyes that stood under the pale moonlight, the ferocity bouncing back as he tried to calm him down. He reached out a hand to palm Geralt's tense shoulder, giving him a pat.  

"Now, now, now, Weccan. Do not let your anger control you."

"How can I?!" Geralt spat in his utmost feral tone; fierce and aggressive for thinking how you were drowning in your own blood right at this moment.

The witcher was growling beneath Eanraig's touch; his anger felt through his body as Geralt was breathing in deep slow breaths, trying to control how his mind instantly went straight into knowing who has given orders to hurt you. There was an ample amount of the fact that you could be cut off a limb over stealing something you surely have been accused of. The Druid stepped in front of him, clasping both his fingers on his shoulders to break whatever thoughts he was thinking as he stared straight into his wrath-filled eyes.

"I've already treated her wounds---But, I think it isn't enough for how she's raining on their blows. You should have just accepted the first time they've asked a favor before it even ended up this way,"

Geralt's upper lip twitched from how he was silently basking in his displeasure and rue; never wanting to open his mouth at the moment for fire might escape his mouth with how maddened he was feeling. The tight stones topping off his chest and making him more uneasy than he can ever get.

"Vesemir has taught you to never uphold the law," Eanraig added as a matter of fact, pursing his lip as he continued, the look in his eyes utterly amused for how Geralt's destiny was falling in the wrong places, but emotionally feeling as if it was right because you came along, "---but, you are here to save such love that will never overcome the law that people have been following,"

The Druid has heard him huff from the choices of his words, looking away to stare at the castlewalls, digging up holes that he had been gathering since the moment he arrived, "You are saving the love of your life,---" he paused, a smile forming on Eanraig's decrepit face; his deep wrinkles forming as his face contorted in sheer entertainment.

"---and the woman who shall make miracles come true,"

Geralt was immediately taken to the abandoned round tower; where Prince Althalos has been staying since he has been cursed---bullish that they could keep him there and away from people. The prince has not been damned as a beast just like Nivellen. The prince has been cursed as a Kikker. A harmless monster in their world that only kills his own kind as well. They were found in the caves, masking in their solidarity until the full moon comes out and their hunger will be very much triggered to find something to munch on.

When they could not find their own kind to devour, they somehow manage to eat others instead.

Geralt couldn't help but snicker to his own at that, maybe the prince was kind of harmful instead of harmless that Sorceress Ingrith might have described him, peppering her words with pleasant lines that the witcher was highly disappointed of because she sounded as if she was in favor for what was happening.

He walked along the doors in an unfettered march of his feet, humming in displeasure with a scowl twisting his features that turned into tiny smirk; noting the buffet of abundant food that was left unfinished due to reasons he didn't know about as it happened before he arrived.

The tight grimace written on his face was enough for the king to know that he has not seen you yet since the moment you've arrived. Ingrith has probably prohibited him to as she has lead him to the prince.

King Viduka sat on his chair; proud and virtuous in the middle of a long table where he was left alone. The witcher has never seen the king up until today and one thing's for sure as he noticed the pale, horrid color of his skin. Just as much as how his have been, tinted in the lightest color that can be considered as if the king has no blood to function properly like how a king should have been.

His eyes were almond shaped, but with a nebulous glow swimming in the hazel color---appearing to be like he was being cast in a deathless spell or such poison that had a long term effect.

But, Geralt mindlessly shook his worries away from the people who have given you pain. The queen has probably been giving King Viduka such concoctions that could make him submit to her on whatever she wanted---with the help of the sorceress of course.

"He needs help," he bluntly started before he was even asked to speak, raising both brows for wanting to tell the king that he also needed help for whatever Queen Makeda has been giving him. Howbeit, Geralt has shut his mouth tight and hardly tried to become forth with respect amongst the king.

The king audibly sipped on his wine, casting him a glance under the antique glass he has chugged on. His expressions incomprehensible for the white wolf because of how horrid and disheveled his beard and mustache is. Though, his response made Geralt know he was giving him a lour, "This is why you've been dragged here to serve your purpose,---" pause. "---The only thing that can get your mutations quite useful for our world besides butchering my people. I've heard you've slaughtered my men,"

Geralt's mouth formed a tight thin line from the king's bald comment, his jaw set to create a grouch that the king has expected from his kind---the lack of emotion thereof and also the bluntness that the witcher may cannot control no matter if the person in front of was highly or not.

"Because your beloved army leader has been forcing women held captive," the white wolf stated as a matter of fact, cocking his head to the side as if it was a cocky comment.

King Viduka scoffed from his sheer honesty; skipping the dillydally that most men have been giving him due to being royal, "---and what has saving people benefit to you, witcher? must I say, you have not receive coins from it, correct? or was it because of the little woman? you are killing off my kind to save yours,"

Between them both was an understanding of protection from Geralt. He stood before him with a will that he had back in the marketplace. The white haired witcher was standing inside his castle with a purpose that he surely deciphered from using you as a bait to comply.

You were too important for him that the king could feel that Geralt will be begging for more than just your safeguard.

"Your way of asking favors can be quite disappointing for a king,"

Out of the blue, he's heard metal slice through its own accord; both knights who stood beside King Viduka unraveled their weapons, pointing them at Geralt who stood with a nonchalant expression on his face, thoroughly not moved nor impressed by their reactions---perhaps, also in a shitty mood for ruining his week by kidnapping you in the comfort of his home.

"Sheathe your swords," the king commanded to the hostile cavaliers; not taking a second to drop their weapons as they were told.

Geralt continued to educate the king in his perspective and comprehension over his cursed son; remembering how his school has taught him countless of monsters he could never forget.

"Call your son 'the frog prince' or some hideous sort," his eyebrows jutted closer as he sternly explained, "---but, this work is not made by a monster for me to hunt,"

King Viduka couldn't help but lean away from the back of his throne, his eyes adamant that he was not serious over telling him that his son may not be assisted by the Witcher

"---He is cursed by a witch. I do not butcher people for the sake of someone else's life,"

The words that left Geralt's mouth felt like a rejection or an offense that King Viduka has never experienced from anyone else. He couldn't believe what he was hearing---he couldn't accept such abnegation over a mutant who was crude and utterly unaccepted by humanity. His highness has quickly stood from his seat, throwing his glass on the floor which has shattered but has not surprised Geralt nor have receive a jerk of his body from his sudden anger---the antagonism coming was a result of a witcher that they have tried contacting or following around for two years; begging help for the future of Kaedwen.

Yet, he came to the palace with his foot up his mouth. Straightaway, sounding like he was declining the proposal.

The king was entirely disappointed by how useless he was being.

"---you are good-for-nothing! A hypocrite who says he does not kill another to save someone else's!" King Viduka has spat completely enraged, "---Yet, you have saved your tiny whore by killing mine!"

The white wolf couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, clenching his teeth behind his closed mouth; his golden peepers glaring before the dependable king who kisses whatever Queen Makeda has been walking upon---a king who does not care for the people as long as he saves his.

Irritation was written all over Geralt's face, hearing what King Viduka has described you for what purpose you have in his life. Being nothing but a woman who could cater to his lechery when you had not been at all.

His midget was more than that. Definitely not his whore that people has been accusing you of.

Geralt's selfishness for rejecting the king's offers right on his face was like asking to be beheaded. He does not want to be involved by such ever again when he has no idea who this witch may have been. If being frank over the king was like asking to be beheaded, then a search for a witch that does not want to be found was waiting for a monster to put him into demise.

"I do not regret what the queen has done for punishing. Your tiny harlot has taken something valuable from her and corporal punishment was the answer that we all see fit---seeing that she might have sold the necklace for the sake of you wanting more coins,"

He subtly shook his head from the king's indefinite accusation, verbally fighting for your safety and for the truth that may set you free, "She is not the thief you have been accusing her about."

Yet, the king was determined of his opinions---the queen's opinions over you; seeming to be brainwashed by both women who was a shadow of his reign. One greedy sorceress and the other was his cunning beloved that no matter what other people say, he shall not believe because only his trusted people were right.

Geralt heavily sighed, seeing King Viduka shooting daggers towards him. His eyes wild and disappointed, utterly vexed for what he has heard.

"The world may say that you own two swords. One for killing humans and the other for slaughtering beasts," he deadpanned, bane spitting out of his mouth as he sharply stared at Geralt who sighed for his resoluted perception.

"---but, I doubt you do not know the differences of each as of now,"

After minutes of his silence, Geralt may have not realized that from the moment he opened his mouth, his teeth was barred, fangs overlooked by the king because of his unspoken thoughts; by not being heard by a person who had his mind closed for whatever he has to say and so, the butcher of Blaviken breathed a few heavy sighs, promptly shutting his eyes closed before he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Let me see her. I need...to see her, your highness."

He was stunned to hear himself plead before a disagreeable human. A selfish entitled man who knew nothing how to raise a kingdom. The rebellious son of the previous king has been forced into this madness and manipulation from everyone that he does not see.

The latter waited for any oracular answer. They've shared stares and huffs of breath before Geralt shook his head, turning on his heel to leave immediately because he knew that his request for seeing you will never be given. Might search for you instead, he silently thought to himself with a tight scowl on his face.

"Bring her in,"

He stopped short from hearing the king's words. Ceasing himself in the midst of marching off, his back towards the king when it has not taken the horsemen a minute to drag you to where he was.

Dragging was the correct term for your feeble, shaky demurrals out of the door. Your voice echoing from a far distance and Geralt couldn't help but shot a glance over the locked wooden doors, his amber eyes turning wider as your voice became clearer when each second passed by, hinting your status that you were not feeling well by the breathless, hoarse begging you've managed to beseech.

The doors opened to release two vulnerable knights wearing their commoner clothing and a small, fragile woman who was mistreated from her limbs; dragging you by your battered arms. Patches of blue and mauve painted your skin as if they were trying to beat you to death, a law back in the historical era where it was used for criminals or sinners to speak the truth or punished for their faults.

Your other cheek was swollen, vermillion owning a cut as if somebody has slapped you---also dehydrated from starving you for a day and a half, receiving no liquid to drink or anything besides their endless wallops.

The witcher was beyond shocked to even comprehend what he was seeing, his breath stopping from the moment he has seen you enter the room; utterly downtrodden, helpless and wounded.

"S-Stop...I-I don't...I don't need any more beating. I told you, I don't have your necklace. This amulet I have is mine. I didn't steal anything. Please---please tell me Geralt's here,"   King Viduka has gestured towards the horsemen; bringing up a finger to tell that they should show the witcher what you looked like to be hit in endless battering and how they've treated you before he even came around.

The knights tightened their hold against a mahogany, wooden stick. Hard enough to fracture your bones if it was given more power; but, Geralt knew what they were ordered to do before they can even move and he was quick enough to march towards where they were; graving and in distraught for what he felt. His chest suffocating and tight---anguished to see and desperate to keep you close in his arms.

He rushed to where you were hunched down and bleeding to death, shielding you from their assaults as the witcher draw out his metal sword from his back, angling the newly sharpened blade on one of the knight's jugular; golden eyes burning with betrayal and desolation for what they have done, for what power do people with royal blood have to hurt his person this way. They've treated you like a rag doll or a monster for making you bleed and even plan to starve you to death.

Their actions has made Geralt's blood boil in extremity.

"Do not dare---," he breathed fire, fuming as he warned. His words said with a fiery emphasis, "---touch or lay your hands on her,"

The smaller knight whom Geralt has pointed his sword upon growled in the back of his throat, a signal which has made him aim the tip of his sword against the vulnerable part---unbending and purposive for what he wanted them to apprehend that he was not flippant for unsheathing his steel sword.

"---people who knew better of my kind are heedful that I will not bat an eye to slit down your throats with my weapon,"

Geralt has heard you call out for him in a sapless shake of your voice and the simple acknowledgement has taken his attention away from the royal guards as he slightly turned his head behind---seeing you lay on the cold hard ground that made his mouth twitch, teeth barred and gritted and he couldn't help but emit a rough huff of his breath; sounding like a growl of his frustrations for letting this happen to his family.

King Viduka spoke in command, hiding the smile beneath his unkempt beard.

"Lay down your sword, Witcher. I do not plan to create bloodshed over the mutant who will help my son,"

Geralt avoided looking into their eyes and set his focus on the battered woman behind him who was coughing out her pain. You've used all your strength to pull yourself from the floors, your vision blurry and unclear for the tears you've shed all night, finding it hard to register that your witcher was finally within your reach. You thought it was all in the sense of hallucination until he'd hastily whispered the endearment that he had for you---the nickname you've hated prior of meeting him the first time, yet ending up missing the word when he doesn't use it for you.

His appearance was making your heart cry and eventually, you did after realizing a bunch of sobs escaping your lips when he has hauled you up in his arms; crouching before you and pulling your beaten body to his, aware from the pained whimper that followed suit and he was suddenly aware of using such strength with you---immediately turning gentle from your response.

"Midget?"

"G...Geralt? you're here..." you hiccuped from the cries, feeling the sting from the salt of your tears. Lately discovering the numb, sore feeling on your left eye and Geralt has eyed it with such animosity because it was a swollen wound.

Your vision turned clear after a languid blink of your eyes, welcoming his warmth that you've missed after being hurt by people who surrounded you who'd done it by physically doing so. The information you have gathered from the four corners of the cell you were in repeatedly replaying inside your mind; not bothering to forget to tell it to him besides your other secret that you ought not to tell yet.

"Don't...Don't find the witch..I-I've heard from the person with me---he's an elf. He said that this witch can never be found---it may be just a trap or an endless hunt for you,"

The latter was stone-deaf from your wounded image; his golden eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Geralt didn't acknowledged your message and continued to state his own instead.

"They've hurt you."

He uttered in disbelief, intently examining your face near his. Your fingers were shaky as you reached up to touch his face. But, Geralt has beat you to it and grabbed yours instead, subtly shaking his head to silently tell you not to move for the pain it can cost. His rough hand was warm and comforting, giving solace in the midst of how being cold you were treated by their world. The only thing that was warm is Geralt and his family.

They were the only thing benevolent compared to their outskirts.

"They don't believe me. I--I never stole the queen's necklace. I--I have never left your home,"

"I know you didn't." Geralt gruffly muttered with a cordial, soft tone that made you sob more than ever---how nice it felt to have someone who actually believed you was like hopping in the shower after a summery day; refreshing to be hearing another person to fight for your truth rather than being forced to tell lies.

"You'll never get to find the witch, Geralt. Y-You'll never get to lift the curse because...because---"

The stammers you've emitted, how crucial it was to feel you in pain---finding ache in his chest from the moment he'd seen you in that status; painted like a rainbow shown after a heavy rain but drafted to show the suffering you've experienced in the castles of Kaedwen. His glowing golden eyes turned a shade darker, filling with sudden torment and affliction as you laid in his arms.

You've slightly turned your head, nuzzling to be shielded by Geralt's armored, hirsute chest that made you sigh after hours of trying to sleep on stones, finding home just by staying close to the white wolf.

"Your highness," Geralt abruptly spoke, making you shut your eyes open to hear what he needed to say. Based on how he set his mouth in a tight, straight line. Your witcher was setting down his bargains and favors that he certainly does not do for people of royal.

"I will seek for your witch," he stated with determination, his back towards the king; not taking the risk to let him see the ire pooling in his eyes as he continued.

"---in exchange for your people not to touch mine and if your sorceress, precious vampire or horsemen lay a single hand on her again, I will never hesitate to kill the witch and let your son die with his curse forever,"

Perturbed by his sudden declaration; stubborn to even listen for what he was about to expect by searching apparitions of a witch out in the woods. You've desperately called out his name in endless croaks, hopelessly pulling at his armor yet Geralt was having rigid opinions especially having you wounded in his arms.

"Cease her punishment. I will not save yours if I know that you are punishing my..."

Golden eyes keenly landed on yours, thoroughly protecting you in his sinewy limbs before he seriously and firmly declared another that has made your breath hitch for what he has said.

"---my betrothed,"

King Viduka briskly nodded for his request; badly in need of his aid for his son to live. There was an understanding that he will still keep you within the castle unless Geralt brings him the witch and reverse the curse. He'd kept his eyes on the witcher's back, sitting back on his throne with a smile on his face.

"You have my word, Geralt of Rivia."

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[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 11)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER. 

CHAPTER 10.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Men couldn't really be trusted with a girl who had her first menstruation especially in their dimension because their hunches could get a good laugh out of you; suggesting that Cirilla has been attacked by some beast. Feelings are shown and couldn't be avoided, however; after the Djinn incident, it seems like those feelings turn into cravings that seem to be voracious for you and Geralt.

Warnings: Sexual implications. (But, still no smut. I'm frustrating myself in this one) Mention of breasts. Ha! Geralt being one enchanted and cheeky lil' shit. (Ya’ hot witcher 😫😘🥰😒) Reader being one innocent, naive lil' shit as well. Jaskier and Geralt being idiots. Cirilla being our soft baby. Mention of coochie. Honeypot slang also means vajayjay. The menstruation talk. Blood. Also mention of WOW characters and LOL. 

Words: 8.8k

A/N: 💖 Thank you for all the positive feedbacks I've received from this fic of mine! This is quite long but I hope you'll love it because I did! Hehehehhe!  Thank you to @uncoolcloudyhead​ because she has told me about the menstruation idea and I actually liked it so here it is! THANK YOU, BB'S! Also, this is prolly my bday update for Henry Cavill! (It’s already May 5 in my time, so...Heehehe) HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVEYYYY! *CRIES* WHERE YOU AT? WE STILL HAVE BABIES TO MAKE, HENRY. 😭😭👶😭😫🥰😂😂😂

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Random familiar voices came echoing outside the room. The sun was shining, in a way that got you groaning because it was attacking your face in full blast. There were ravens standing on the edge of the windows, chirping quietly as a form of your alarm. You've straightened your arms to reach for a certain person who had slept beside you, but you've tapped the mattress to feel the cold white sheets, informing you that he had already been up for hours.

You were alone. Again. Well, it wasn't like you and Geralt had a rule to not leave the bed when the other hasn't yet nor did you both have some sort of relationship that gives you that kind of priority.

The loud exclaims began to echo louder, lifting your back to squint your eyes and scrub them with the back of your knuckles; swiping off the morning glory that has been stuck on your eyelashes. You've heard the panicked voice of Cirilla down stairs as you rested your back on the headboard, listening to their talk, "I'm bleeding, Geralt. Why am I bleeding?!"

Then, Jaskier's voice resonated next, "She needs a healer!" pause. "What beast must attack her in such a delicate part of a child?!"

The witcher woke up with Cirilla never leaving her bed. He'd knocked on her door three times because they had training today before he'd heard her screech so loud, throwing the sheets away to see her bed with blood.

Shock was the least to describe Geralt's expression, he was utterly floored when he realized that their house has been invaded by some type of beast that devours a woman's delicate pearls. He deeply tried to search inside his head for whatever was close enough to be too sleek that he hadn't heard the monster enter their house nor did he even got the gist of its smell.

The monster was technically too good or maybe somehow idiotic as well because of how it probably only bitten Cirilla in between her legs.

"Jaskier, calm down." Geralt deeply rumbled, eyebrows tightly creased to the extent of thinking too much. The bard huffed to himself, crossing his arms in a snobbish way to watch Geralt leaning on their new dining table, hands flat as he had his head dropped down, thoroughly thinking it through.

"You're panicking as well because you've been too distracted with your delightful slumber with your midget that you were slacking and your witcher senses were unrealiable because of your protective fingers threading along the scented locks of her hair---"

The witcher snapped his head back to see Jaskier forming flowery sentences about what he saw last night. Though, he processed it and simply to say that he peeked through his room to see you and Geralt cuddled in each other's arms, "Did you enter my chambers?"

Jaskier looked around to see who he was talking to, but see no one and muttered an answer devoid of guile, "No?"

Geralt roughly growled, his nose scrunched in ferocity as he gave the bard a sharp glint of his cat-eyes. He should've left the door locked last night, "I'm locking the door next time. You can't be trusted anymore, bard."

The bard had a smug look on his face, a winning grin because of how he had caught the witcher red-handed. Geralt gave him a subtle roll of his eyes; ignoring the gloat etching his features.

The princess of Cintra stood in the middle of the kitchen, her beige silky night gown all bloody from her thighs down to her feet like there has been bloody murder. She was cocking her head in a way that tells she was wondering what has happened and why she feels no pain other than the part of her lower belly.

"Geralt, the only thing hurting is my stomach. What beast was it?"

"I...don't know," the witcher sincerely murmured, sighing a loud one as he straightened his back and stood tall, his amber eyes scanning Cirilla from head to foot to see what else was wrong; though, she appeared to be utterly normal, "---If it was a beast, then it is too conniving to have invaded our home,"

You cautiously took a trek down the stairs, your soft pitter-patters along the wooden staircase can be heard by the witcher as he instantly snapped his head to where you're coming from. Howbeit, before even jumping on the last step, you've took a sneaky peak at the family; head out in the open as your eyes immediately saw questioning amber eyes that held softness beneath the glow while Cirilla and Jaskier has been arguing.

What a wonderful sight to wake up in the morning; maybe having your three wishes from the djinn can be worthwhile when having Geralt look at you with a hint of such tenderness; stirring warmth growing in your belly.

You've raised a hand to give him a little wave before receiving a surprising small beam from the witcher himself as it was completely out of the blue; you've expected him to arch a brow or scowl but today seemed like a better day than he had prior to the mornings before.

Jaskier continued to deliver his tirades, palms spread out to exclaim Cirilla's current condition that knocked down all their feathers first thing in the morning, "Oh, dear gods! You looked like you were stabbed--stabbed in the---"

When you've suddenly emerged from the staircase and in the guise of being sardonic, your face was apathetic as you sarcastically muttered; pacing through the middle of the kitchen and interrupting their panic attacks, "This is why men can't handle a child alone; more so, a woman especially in times like this,"

From the moment you've seen Cirilla and that blood trailing down her legs, staining her night gown; you instantly knew what was happening. It was a natural circumstance in the lives of women.

Cirilla was having her first ever menstruation and these men were thinking of other worst case scenarios that made you wince from how uneducated they were about a menstrual cycle of a woman.

"Midget." You've heard Geralt acknowledged your presence, those butterflies in your stomach twerking from his gaze that rested upon your face; yet you tried your best to appear like he wasn't giving you any effect.

Probably too late for trying to let him know that you weren't that into him because you actually were. Big Time.

You were head over heels for the amber eyed witcher; even feeling a lot more after you've wished to a genie.

You bashfully bit the insides of your cheeks, clearing your throat to retain from squealing by how the witcher was trying to melt you with his peepers, "Tell me what beast it is," a demand was sent to the bard who gave you both rogueish looks when he glanced at the witcher who kept on staring like he was smitten with you.

The bard couldn't help but try to bite his tongue from saying any mockery to the both of you because there was a serious situation at hand, "Ughm. We've had hunches about a Nightwraith because it has been a full moon last night," Jaskier explained, holding his cup of water on one hand while the other was used as gestures as he continued to widen the scope further, "---Also, they appear in meadows or fields, and apparently we are in one. Right, Geralt?"

Jaskier glanced at the witcher, his forehead furrowed in seeing the witcher who still has his gaze fixated on you. The latter only gave him a pleasant hum to answer his question; never sparing him a glance.

"Hmm."

In which, Jaskier couldn't help but dramatically roll his eyes at Geralt from not being able to keep his eyes away from you, "Oh. Oh-no-no-no-no, here he goes again,"

You've clicked your tongue, trying to hide the blush from the witcher as you turned your heel a little and angled till you were face front with Cirilla and Jaskier, your side-profile only being seen by the man who kept his eyes solely on you like he was trying not to let you get away from his line of vision.

Oh, dear. He was utterly making your insides go in a twist.

"Nightwraiths eat women's coochies?" you lightly snorted, biting your lips to keep yourself from laughing out loud by how clueless Jaskier was.

He slanted his head to the side, thinking what you actually meant and raised a hand, "I eat coochies," pause. You've snorted another one, louder than you had before as Cirilla was looking at the bard like he'd transformed into something else, "I mean, you were referring to cookies right?" Jaskier subtly pointed to the witcher beside you.

"---Geralt does too,"

Your snorts were suddenly ceased all of a sudden when the bard pointed to the witcher who still had his eyes fixated on you. The snort died down and so was the smile that was about to creep up your face at the realization and memories that Jaskier and the lady in the marketplace said that he'd bedded a lot of women already, only does his whores in brothels and actually thought he'll live like that forever.

Huh. So much for the hoity-toity. Geralt was a fuck boy in his dimension. He's a fuck boy, you needed to remember that. Do not relish in the thirst. Do not. Not today. Not ever.

Fuck boys are assholes. But, if it were boys looking like Geralt...then, why not the lucky impaling?

You cleared your throat and push those thoughts away, "I bet he really does. No doubt," a nasal, sarcastic response was enough for Geralt to give the bard a glare of his cat-eyes. He sensed the hostility when Jaskier has said whatever he did, and the small frown etched on your face was no good.

The bard gave him a shrug, eyes all guileless and questioning.

You crossed your arms in front of everyone, masking up the prior disappointment and insecurity with a small, teasing smile, "What's the next theory? Sylvannas Windrunner? Illidan Stormrage? any world of warcraft characters? Or maybe league of legends too?"

Jaskier was expressive as he bellowed, "Gibberish. Utter gibberish, Small rat. We do not speak alien language,"

"You know aliens?" you blinked in surprise, eyeing the bard with a look of antonishment for even knowing what an alien is before he began to take it back, "I don't know, did I say aliens?"

You've narrowed your eyes at the troubadour, trying to see if he knew what he was saying but see none but only a confused epic teller. One tap, two taps on your arm and you gave a tiny beam at everyone, giving each a look of reassurance as your gaze lasted longer when you've passed by Geralt and then Kolby who was crouched under the living room table.

They've waited for your answer, patiently and intrigued by what they could learn from a person who lived in another dimension. You gave a soft sigh before grinning like a cheshire cat, "You are panicking over a girl having her period,"

Thus, your explanation made their foreheads crease a lot more as they couldn't understand.

"Do you both trust me?" you've given Jaskier and Geralt a look. The witcher gruffly answered in a jiffy, quick as a wink when he did so; leaving Jaskier to give him the craziest expression he could create.

"I do."

"We don't especially when you came from another dimension---" he gave his friend a double take, feigning the stun and offence as he brought a hand to his chest like he broke his heart, "---A traitor you are, Geralt!"

You gave the bard a crooked grin, shaking your shoulders to infuriate him, "It seems like your witcher trusts me enough, Jaskier."

He crossed his arms like a braggart, loudly huffing to his disappointment and shaking his head in consternation, "Oh, I swear he's acting like the dunderhead he is again. Next thing you know, he's as cold as a dead Alghoul's bum,"

A quick trudge towards Cirilla, you've gently held onto her shoulders; giving her a genial gaze of your eyes as she eyed you back skeptically.

"Cirilla, you need a warm bath. You feel uncomfortable, correct?" in consequence to your question, she'd felt another blood flow down her thighs, making her squirm from how uncomfortable it felt. It's like an endless stream that she couldn't handle, "I want the blood to stop, it doesn't cease!"

You gave her arm a gentle pat, trying to dispel her fears and perturbation about periods, "Don't panic. That's normal. I also do get that because I'm a woman. I prolly would soon. We get it every month, alright?"

Jaskier paced towards where Geralt was; regarding what seem to be a captivated witcher who was watching you handle Cirilla like a mother.

"Geralt." the minstrel tried to catch his attention, yet he paid no heed as Geralt was likely and certainly giving you the heart eyes already, "---I thought I may never see you acting like this again but this is perfect for bribery and another marvelous epic to be written. Geralt of Rivia, thoroughly under the rat's spell as you may see fit, looking like the witcher would give her the sun, an eye of a dragon, a dead body of a Golum or the moon if she wanted to," his bard of a friend scoffed, finding humor from the doting Butcher of Blaviken.

Geralt turned a blind eye from Jaskier's jeers. His expression lethargic as he continued to gawk.

"Why? Why must I be born as a lady?!" Cirilla fumed out of nowhere, slightly growling to whatever mischances she have gotten.

The rhymist threw an arm around the smitten witcher, his silence humoring him to the bones as he snorted, "You can ask Pavetta and Duny on that,"

Cirilla of Cintra gave him a lour as you bunched the hem of her nightgown, bringing the ends of it in a degree that let you saw the small pool of blood she created. Obviously, there were no napkins in their time if the men in the household don't even know what a period is. You tried to think how you would get one when you remembered those DIY menstrual pads in Pinterest that you have saved in your phone; maybe making one would be nice, "Will you get me new clothes for Cirilla? Let's give you a bath, shall we? I'll also try to create something that can help the blood from dripping,"

The request was sent to Jaskier, since he wouldn't be frugal for any help that was asked. Though, you were moved and taken aback when you've instantly saw Geralt stepping out of the ground he was rooted on and literally given effort to your demands.

He was certainly giving you wonders that will never cease in each passing day.

"I can get that---" the bard stumbled when Geralt moved away to your command, puffing out a breath as it gave his heart a jump, "---Oh. Geralt's doing it already, you're quite helpful today, witcher. You're very much appreciated!" he loudly tattled, watching Geralt evaporate from the walls of the staircase.

The bard snickered; giving you a shit eating grin, "The power of honeypot can be quite impressive, don't you think?"

You've gave him a baffled glance, tilting your head in wonder. Honeypot. You thought in the back of your mind, it sounded nice and scrumptious to your ears and so you left it at that; sending the bard a twinkle of your smile and an ingenuous flicker of your eyes because you didn't understand him and his references but chose to be kind.

"Maybe it is quite impressive, Jaskier."

You were gobsmacked to see a room that had a largely square in-built bath tub nailed to the floor of the room; like a bath house back in the medieval times. You've crouched beside the undressed princess, mindlessly tapping the floor with your index finger as you waited. They seem to be bold in terms of their body; thinking she would dismiss you once she was unclad from her night gown but alas, Cirilla wanted you with her. Not that you mind because she was also a woman and maybe she was just very much comfortable with you.

"I must say, you like Geralt?" she uttered, very straight to the point as you stopped tapping on the marble floors. You've heard a splash and realized she was already washing the milk away from her skin.

That question. Do you want her to know your honest thoughts?

"Oh--what?! yes, I mean--no. Yes?" you sheepishly stuttered, swallowing your embarrassment down your throat because it was that obvious to the eyes of people.

Cirilla quietly giggled from your bashful reaction; finding it funny that you were that shy enough to tell her.

"You always blush. Always clumsy and fidgeting whenever he's around. It tells me how much you like him when he could get you acting weird like that,"

You bit your lip, feeling the heebie-jeebies come around because of the topic at hand, "I think he likes you too," she surprisingly revealed, scrubbing some Epsom salt around her skin.

The abrupt presumption made your heart skip a beat. That wouldn't be possible especially that you were...you. A weird, insecure, small woman who came from another dimension wouldn't be liked by a dashing witcher. You expected nothing with the affection you had for Geralt, your hopes always on the low to keep the disappointments lesser and the pain more tolerable.

Besides, you were useless. A midget who held no strength nor magic within you. Your existence would certainly only be a burden for the witcher, so expecting fondness from him was the least of your worries.

You were happy this way, just seeing or having the witcher around before he sends the cargo off to her rightful dimension.

Cirilla was unaware of your frown as you crouched behind her, she continued to tell her findings out in the open; oblivious of how your self-doubt was starting to eat you up alive, "Geralt can be quite unscrupulous by bedding tons of women in brothels,"

You studied her from behind, forcing a smile at the honest facts you've received since the day you've arrived, "Who'd given you that talk?"

"Jaskier. He tells them whenever he's drunk. You couldn't trust the bard with your secrets, he tells them in the midst of his intoxication,"

"Yet, he didn't give you the period talk. Nobody did, even though they knew what it was and just chose to act like idiots," Your mouth fell into a tight, thin line. Obvious that you were dismayed by their lack of teaching thereof, it was not like you expected the witcher to give her the talk; Geralt of Rivia, teaching Cirilla what a menstruation is to his child of surprise. It can be comical because all he'll ever say was 'Hmm's' and a ton of 'horseshit' with that scowl on his face because he didn't know what it even is. You've had hopes for the toubadour but he'd crashed those faith of yours by telling Cirilla that it was probably a Nightwraith.

You'ce softly bitten your lower lip as you tried to elucidate what a menstruation is to the princess, "Having a period, symbolizes your maturity. You're beginning to grow older, a flower that's about to bloom. You're turning into a woman now," pause. "You can bear a child if you..do the birds and the bees with the man you love, Cirilla. But, bleeding means to tell you that your ovaries is actually punishing you to death because you haven't gotten pregnant yet,"

You've heard soft splashing of the waters, seeing the child turn to her curiosity, "Birds and the bees?" there was a soft wince that came from you, lately realizing the words that came out of your mouth. So much for being educated about periods yet here you are labeling sex as 'birds and the bees' like you were a Tumblr account.

Nevertheless, you continued for the better of life and for her sake as well, "It's an act where a man and a woman does a natural deed after they're married or before when they both prefer it to as long as it is with consent. It can bear you a child," another biting of your lip got you scrapping your dried, chapped lips; tasting a little bit of blood as you do and suddenly hissing to yourself as your fingers held onto your vermillion, "---Sometimes, it can be because of love or utter lust. Happens between lovers,"

The lioness of Cintra gave a nod of understanding, swashing herself with her bathwater before straightaway delivering her thoughts to you, "If you and Geralt become lovers will you do the birds and the bees too?"

The question caught you off guard. Entirely floored as you felt your saliva caught in your throat, igniting loud sputter of coughs as you felt like choking from her query, "W-WHAT?" Cirilla beamed back at you, looking so child like as her smile turned into a grin.

You couldn't imagine how stunned you appeared to be like at the princess, "---Did you even understood a single word I said?"

She seemed to not care for your genuine explanation about menstruation and took your 'sex' labeling into account, the mistake of naming it like a fable would probably drown you in your own shame as she went on; especially now that she knew you honestly told how you liked her father or step-father or---how Geralt is labeled for the princess.

Her smile turned pensive as she poured the water from her palms down her arms. She continued to wash, "Though, you probably won't be bearing a child of your own,"

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together, perplexed by what she was trying to point out, "Huh?"

"Barren. Sterile. Comes in becoming a witcher when they had their trials,"

Now, you were gobsmacked. Utterly dumbstruck that you couldn't form any words to say.

Your heart stopped beating from the news. His fate took everything away from him, included being infertile; a man's duty on earth to have an heir or another form of happiness for one man is to see a child of his own. Yet, because he was a witcher; it was impossible that any form of magic wouldn't do the job just as how Cirilla explained the whole thing to you.

Though, there was Cirilla as his child of surprise so you didn't know if it was a bad thing or a good thing for Geralt.

You've looked at her, solemnly. "They've taken that away from him too?"

She subtly nodded, peering back at you, batting her long eyelashes as her blue eyes gave you an earnest gaze, "They've taken everything from him. Even his childhood which explains why he's...unstable and complicated to understand," pause. "---If he somehow hurts your emotions with his words, he probably doesn't mean that at all or it's just a habit that he does; pushing people away because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings well,"

Thus, as she muttered her next words; her eyes turned downcast and face turned as long as a fiddle like she'd remember something that already was in the past, "---It took decades for Geralt to accept his duties for me,"

The whole talk ended with that. His duties for the princess of Cintra; giving you a head start that she was his child of surprise for a distinct reason. A reason that made the princess fall into silence and you didn't try to dig onto the information because apparently, she appears to be sensitive at the topic and you respected it.

Cirilla offered that you should bathe as well when she was finally dressed in casual leather clothes that had been given by the djinn since you've wished for it. They were now blessed with more clothes and food; you name it, the Djinn has made it possible.

You gently took your bandages off, seeing how it was better than before. A lot better. The medicine was magical for it to be better in just three days; or maybe the numbness tells you that it was going well when it probably even wasn't on the inside.

"I'll fetch you your towels, Y/N." Cirilla softly announced as she was all dressed and proper, her ashen hair wet and all down as she fixed her leather boots.

You gave her a genuine smile as you tried pulling your tight leather boots free, "Thank you, Princess."

She stood beside the thick frame of the wooden door, brushing her locks with her fingers and trying to untangle them as she talked, "Ciri or Cirilla will be fine. It feels different and...enlightening when somebody doesn't tries to treat me like one,"

She was that type of princess. A humble one too. You were obviously lucky on getting to meet them because they were decent and kind. A quick nod was sent for her wants as you deeply respected it before she left the bathroom.

Before you could even go stark naked, Jaskier was kind enough to drop the towels for Cirilla; you've sent your thanks to the bard but eventually groaned when he left and saw how it was a bunch of face towels and not actually a large bath towel that you could use while you try to get your clothes in Ciri's closet because you forgot to take them with you.

So, there was reasons as to why Geralt was sometimes hostile as he can get. However, the antagonism has somehow faded through time to time for certain reasons; especially noticing how gentle he can get after raking those fingers through your hair as he slept was the most amiable gesture you have gotten from any man, ever.

But, Jaskier was right. You never know when he begins to turn cold like an Alghoul's bum because he was complicated to understand sometimes.

You were thinking about Geralt as you sat in the end of the tub. His prompt thoughtful gestures that certainly dithers your feelings for him while you were in your birthday suit. A soft creak of the door was heard and you languidly continued to scrub at your breasts; giving them gentle rubbing with some Epsom salt with a little bit of lemon that you've managed to get from the cupboards; not glancing over the princess as you pointed at a small wooden chair and expressed your gratitude for her kindness.

"Thank you, Cirilla." you continued to heedlessly exfoliate your body; abruptly pointing at the chair as your eyes were fixated on your body, "You can lay the towels over there, I can get it."

Chances of being lucky has never been a part in your life. Hence, hearing that familiar, rough, low baritone of a voice you've desired to have for the rest of your life as you bathed was surely giving you the shilly-shally when you've seen Geralt of Rivia standing rooted on the ground; his amber eyes bemisting with obscure thoughts that you certainly also felt as his eyes were glued to your perky, unclad chest that was displayed before him.

He was a man; heedful of his needs and wants. Especially that the woman bathing in front of him has been clouding his mind since day one. The witcher would obviously stare and ogle at the unexpected blessing that you ought to share.

Geralt was apparently staring at your boobs and he shamelessly seemed to not care at all.

"Ugh," he hoarsely croaked out, those glowing peepers clouding with something primal, raking your form with those piercing eyes as you were knocked out of your socks by seeing the witcher whom stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the bath room, "I've fetched you your---" Geralt cleared his throat, forehead creasing in surprise as he went on with his gawking; ceasing the moment to sketch the image inside his head by heart.

"---breasts---towels, I mean towels. Fuck," the latter gruffly cussed, scrunching his nose for even admitting that he was impudently ogling at your tatas.

You didn't know what to do as your arms began to fidget, trying to find anything that could cover you up as you panicked; not used to being in decent in front of people especially by a man who has crept inside your heart. The water furiously splashed as you squirmed in your side of the tub, yelping when you've seen those face towels far from your reach and you've decided to just cover your breasts with an arm.

Fortunately, your breasts weren't that huge enough for some nipple slipping. So, an arm would suffice. As well as your heated center that was covered with your bath water.

"Geralt!" you've finally called out the elephant in the room, doing nothing but stare at you like you've saved his life, also humming in a pleasing tone as he blinked, arching a brow in amusement.

It was utmost shameful to be seen by a man you were fond with; thoroughly starked like you were showing him your adorable sized watermelons at the witcher who didn't seem to mind the image. "Where is Cirilla?!" you demanded and panicked, the heat flowing up your face when you glanced at Geralt in utter stupefaction.

The witcher was trying his best not to snicker from what he'd seen from you like it was a gift to mankind; his mankind, "Plotting her vengeance for my attitude prior to that day," he remembered that he'd pissed the princess when he planned to bring you back in your world with a Djinn. Therefore, Cirilla was salty about the whole situation and didn't forget the retribution that he needed to receive after pissing the child off.

You could hear the nark and frustration in his timbre, though he sounded to be too quelled to your surprise that he actually didn't find Cirilla's plan to be rather much annoying because of what benefits was given, "---and she already got what she fucking wanted. That cunning child,"

The latter clicked his tongue, blinking out of his amazement in giving him an accidental flash of your breasts. Well, he'd seen more breasts than any type of normal, but seeing yours was different. You could see the crooked smile wanting to carve upon his lips, making you narrow your eyes back at the witcher who found everything delightful, "She promised you were...decent,"

Your brow instantly rose at that, skeptically glaring back at the witcher, "Is this decent enough for you?!"

Thus, he cocked his head to the side, feeling his heated gaze on you alone; never leaving, "Even...better?"

You've finally hugged yourself together, both arms crossed to cover those angels you were hiding from, giving Geralt the death stare as the witcher continued to gape; eyes definitely intrigued for what else could he find pleasing to look at. His face was now back to being stoic and serious but his eyes seem to be the opposite.

"Stop staring!" you timidly commanded, voice higher than usual due to the embarassment.

He didn't need to be told twice. Geralt sighed in way that got him smiling, entirely beguiled by your reaction.

You were a conservative woman, even pure as well based on how you were panic-stricken by being immodest. Unlike those other women who he has been with, they were all poised and unfazed by showing their perfectly shaped bodies at the witcher who they find utmost alluring and ravishing.

Yet, here you were. Being you.

"I'm trying." Geralt snickered, his grin lifting his lips in haste when you couldn't see his face as he turned around.

It was like you can feel him grinning. You knew he was grinning and so you stated your accusations out loud as he was grinning from ear to ear, "I can see you grinning! Judge my body for all you want! You probably saw better," "

But, his smile slightly fell when he'd heard your voice waver a little at the final thought of your message; hearing a little bit of insecurity or maybe a lot more if you were covering them up to not let them see.

"You---You can leave the towels there. Don't look as you do!" you pointed at the wooden chair close to him, raking his form from hair to foot and still couldn't believe how large his build was. A puff of breath left your lips when you could feel yourself grow hot that had more than a blush, your fingers suddenly flying up till you've touched the weird symbol that was inscribed in between the valley of your breasts.

The symbol was totally strange although familiar because it held no meaning for you. It was like a colorless tattoo or a scar that was meant to be there; an image that you have already seen or encountered because it was with Geralt.

It consisted of the witcher's medallion.

You've only seen it when you began undressing, wondering why it was even there in the first place.

"Hmm." he gravelly hummed, seeing his shoulders slump as he thought about it too long. How would he even place the towel without looking like an idiot pacing backwards? "I'm warning you!"

Geralt gave a scoff, turning his booted heel halfway that you could only see his gorgeous side-profile. He never looked at your way again, though it was thoroughly tempting for the witcher but he respected your wishes and just stared straight at the wooden chair that was a meter away from him.

Your naked presence didn't cease his jests, "It doesn't sound too threatening now, does it? Especially that it comes from you,"

An adorable growl erupted from you, igniting a chuckle from the witcher as it was the first time he heard it for all his life and it was certainly the cutest, "What are you implying then?!"

"That you're a tiny midget trying to scare off a big, bad witcher," his grin grew bigger as he went on with his teasing.

You've eyed the large towel in his hands, actually thanking the witcher for sending them off to you because of Jaskier's foolishness; grateful that you wouldn't run off the hallways completely naked because you only had face towels, "Is that even a decent towel? Not a face towel like how Jaskier tried to give?"

Despite of only seeing his side profile, you were sure his grin fell from the moment you've mentioned the bard, "He'd went in?" he grumbled with a spiteful tone, making you question him in silence, "---with you bathing?"

"What's wrong with that, Geralt?"

There was a murmur, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he said but you knew it doesn't sound like he enjoyed the idea of Jaskier walking in on you while you were unclad like it was nothing unlike him who'd been given warnings and death stares like you wanted to throw knives at him.

"That bard,"

Was he feeling the way you're actually thinking how he felt? you couldn't help but try not to scoff this time, never wanting to get caught that you were finding his irked reaction rather funny, "I was clothed when he did. Unlike you,"

He'd ignored your response as you watched him saunter towards where the chair is, gently dropping them on top of the clean set of face towels that Jaskier has managed to give, "These are your towels, midget." Geralt mindlessly muttered, heedless of his next words that came out of his mouth, "---all new, soft and perky...Ugh, fuck."

The witcher rigidly stood straight, his shoulders falling as he exhaled a long breath; waiting for the tumult of your loud protests, "You're describing my boobs!"

Did he seriously just tell you that your breasts were perky? Small? Or you just thought perky meant small for you?

Geralt had his brows in a twist, crossing his arms as he glared at the wooden chair, probably already dying from how he was giving daggers to the poor seat in front of him, "Your what?"

"My watermelons! My tatas! I know what you're thinking and how dare you tell me they're small?!"

The latter didn't meant it that way. He meant that it was upright and firm. Definitely firm as he'd already seen it with his own amber eyes, "I wasn't saying it was miniscule," he explained with a very relaxed pitch of his voice. The topic not shaking him off.

"---It's the right size for you,"

You were now red-faced, finding the whole ordeal of talking about your breasts with the man you fantasized about was giving your features a reaction of being too flustered by the words he say, "Geralt!" it was a sheepish loud hush and scold for the witcher to cease his talking, "Stop talking about it! This is embarassing!"

Geralt amusedly clicked his tongue, amber eyes downcast as you saw a slip of his smile before fully turning his broad back as he ignored you on the side, eyes focused at the door which will give him a way out.

Maybe after you bathed, he needed to also have his based on how your irresistable presence began to take its camp inside his leather pants.

"I'll...alright," he roughly cleared his throat, a hand on the wooden door before you suddenly beckoned him to stop.

"Wait!"

The witcher could help you with whatever symbol was on your chest. He was the only person who could explain what was happening to your body right?

Those constant withering you feel on your chest whenever he was around, a desire that wanted you having him up close and maybe ever closer than you wish for? The scorching want to touch his face, feel his body caressing you in a way that nobody else could?

The type of scorching thirst that made your soul corrupted from all the lewd thoughts inside your head. You've had it last night, when Geralt was up close and raking his fingers through your locks; by the time you were sweating and having the potent urge to just devour the man who was thoughtful enough to put you to sleep, all you wanted was to be raunchy with all the obscene whisperings inside your head.

It was like somebody wanted you to do it; to have your body corrupted by the witcher and you didn't know if he felt the same way.

Your thoughts was heading to a path that you didn't know about; since the moment that the witcher came into your life.

Geralt heard the splashes of the water, meaning to say you stood up; utterly naked and wet from your bath that it made the witcher's body turn stiff. "You're making this difficult for me, midget..." it was a serious warning that got your chest feeling all sorts of things again.

You swallowed the filthy want away and covered your body with the towel that reached beneath your knees as you paced towards where he was, "Don't worry, I'm all clothed now. I just need to show you something,"

"I've seen more than enough of your breasts that can get me---" he started with a dangerous tone of his timbre, but you immediately backpaddled and tied the towel in between the valley of your breasts, the symbol showing above the towel as you awkwardly fidgeted your toes on the ground, "No! Not that! This!"

He'd felt your nervous pats on his shoulder, urging him to turn around and when he did; Geralt was aware of that shining symbol carved on your chest like a necklace that he also had.

The witcher stared at it with utmost peculiarity, his forehead creased too deeply that made you ponder if he was mad at what he was seeing but you knew he was just trying to understand whatever it is that was outlined on your chest.

Thus, he'd inspected each and every curvature, ending at an image that he also had on as he worn it as a necklace for whenever he was in battles since it was sensitive to magic.

"It's...weird," you curiously mumbled, glancing down at the glyph on your chest before tilting your head till you could see the real one gleaming before you, rested upon his wooly chest that you so wanted to touch since last night.

The way it crawled in the deepest parts of you was antagonizing as you couldn't find any relief other than whenever Geralt was touching you, it somehow lessen the uncomfortable, scathing feeling.

A very odd feeling that couldn't be helped.

Hence, in the twinkling of an eye; Geralt already has his calloused, rough fingers merely brushing that mark you had on the valley of your chest, sparking a hitch of your breath as it got stuck in your throat; the witcher, touching a part of you that nobody else did yet.

"Did I say you could touch?" you bashfully whispered, all flustered when you've felt him gently tracing the emblem.

"Hmm."

"But, your touch somehow helps the ache and the bath did too as well," an earnest answer was sent to the witcher, his amber eyes snapping away from the symbol to give you a glance; seeing a satisfied flicker of your eyes as you found it soothing, "Very weird,"

From the moment his fingertips came in contact with the image stuck in your chest, you've held out a satisfying sigh; feeling the slight sting slowly pass by like a wind when Geralt has his fingertips on your flustered skin. His amber eyes were heavy, focused and entirely warm as his gaze darkened in question.

"How weird must it be?"

Was it also the same feeling he had before you both went to sleep? the moment you both had when you've first arrived after going home from the swamps? That temptatious feeling that got him all frustrated for desiring you?

Thence, you continued to dance on fire, whispering your next words like a secret you never wanted to reveal. A surprising urge that got you all bashful but somehow gaining self-assurance for even saying these things out loud, especially to the man whom you were smitten with, "I...feel things that shouldn't been thought about, corrupted feelings that would describe me as sinful..."

Were you really saying all these out loud? How? Why? yes, you were and you didn't know what force has taken you to even say these out loud like a minx.

The witcher leaned down for your sake, never getting to entirely tilt your head till you were giving yourself a stiff neck. He'd had those amber eyes of him, dancing in curiousness; his eyes sharp, cimmerian and held scampishness that you never saw until today.

"---about you..." the sound was utterly guileless. His thoughts wanting nothing but to taint the purity away if he was given a chance. The silence he has been giving, blinding you into saying more; hoping he would take the chance before it even ended without you knowing, "---It's like I've wished for something that will make me suffer...makes me more curious about you than I've ever been before,"

You've held your breath, seeming to be enraptured by the witcher who wanted nothing but to melt you in his gaze. His glowing Aurum eyes enticed by the perilous spell you've cast as he cocked his head to the side, a look of mischief mixing with the curiosity drowning in his peepers.

"You are having desires," he murmured as a matter of fact, enticed by the close proximity that you both shared. His breath fanning your face in a way that got you smiling as you've genuinely thought out loud, "Scorching...desires that makes me pant like a dog in heat, Geralt."

You could feel Geralt slightly move closer, inclining his head a bit more to have a better look upon your face, the brilliance of his enchanting eyes definitely more bewitching as he was giving you the mischief that pooled around his eyes, "Which explains...last night?"

Your heart was pounding so fast as you've held onto the ends of your towel, tightly than you could ever do because playing with fire was technically not a great idea especially when it was his; feeling the apprehension starting to take over by his intimidating but fascinating presence.

"Yes. You--You didn't need to state the obvious---"

A soft yelp was released as the witcher abruptly hauled an arm around your waist, grabbing you like a basket of groceries as he pulled you closer; overlapping that personal space you needed as he peered down before you, amber eyes burning with the desire you both wanted to release. You've ogled back at the man, blinking with that vindicated look of yours as it made him crazier and unstable.

Hence, his reply made you crazier as well because the least you expected was his virtue on filling that forbidding feeling that was needed to satiate.

"I could revel those desires you have that is needed to sate," he hoarsely taunted, emphasizing his words while he somehow stared between your lips and those batting doe-eyes as he seemed to be ensorcelled by you, "---I'll indulge your curiosity all night long or even days thereafter," his next words turned breathlessly low, stirring a primal warmth that got you suddenly excited for what he could offer.

 "---If you'll let me,"

You were totally swept off your feet, maybe literally as you felt the tip of his nose tickle yours in a way that got you captivated, saying words that surely got the better of yourself as you fluttered your eyes closed, feeling his warm breath hitting your mouth enticingly palpable and peril to even experience, "God, That...was hot,"

Was that the response you only managed to create? Yes. You've honestly told the witcher he was hot when he was basically trying to woo you over and fill in those desires you wanted.

You've felt his breathing turn slow and erratic, the pillowy texture of his vermillion slightly tickling your mouth as it made your heart thump so fast that you were worried you were having a heart attack. Your eyes tightly shut just waiting to be kissed by the witcher himself as this moment was undeniably flattering.

You knew you were looking constipated while you awaited for those soft lips to land on yours. But, what you got was just a low, hushed growl and a puff of air that roughly slapped your lips as the witcher groaned out loud, his mouth momentarily whisking away that made your heart itch in a way that got you softly whining to yourself when he'd slightly leaned back.

Your nose was scrunched up to the extent of telling him that you were dismayed from the lack of lip touching like it was an intentional tease of his sly self. But, you never said it out loud to lessen the embarrassment that you wanted to kiss him that badly.

He was truly the living thirst to your randy teenage life before and a person who made you insane.

"The bard just doesn't know when to stop," his fiery, golden eyes looked through you, but it seemed to be distant as he had his eyebrows in a frustrated twist, nose also scrunched in a way that he was completely irked to the bones.

The witcher had a nasty scowl on his face. Did your breath stink?

"JASKIER." Out of nowhere, Geralt loudly exclaimed through gritted teeth, his arm around you never leaving as you stared into his eyes that also never left yours since he had you in his burly arms.

Due to your frantic state that keeps you antsy and fidgety, it decides to strike while the iron is hot. Meaning to say that you're taking the perfect opportunity to do something embarrassing. You've arduously stood on your tippy toes, struggling to reach Geralt's height before puckering those chapped lips of yours and doing the inevitable.

A quick, soft, honeyed peck on the side of Geralt's lips got him rooted on the ground, expecting it to land on those mouth of his that you've been dying to kiss but decided to taunt the big, bad witcher by pressing a peck that was dangerously close to where he wanted.

The latter was used to women who were straightforward, sexual and knew what they wanted. Thence, having a woman who's timid for wanting what she wanted was giving him a headache because of how your taunts were poking that rage of desire he had with you.

It was utmost frustrating and irksome because he wanted more.

You've dropped your feet to the ground before you heard the door creak where Jaskier emerged from and had a huge grin on his youthful pretty face, "Why, does anyone want me to rub chamomile onto their lovely bottoms?"

Geralt's hold on you slightly loosened as he looked at you with that questioning and frustrated look on his face, giving a grimace for whatever child-like kiss you have given him. It was completely unsatisfying. He didn't expect that and you couldn't help but want to snort and giggle at the same time from how stunned he appeared to be.

The witcher snapped his head to where the bard is, giving him a sharp lour that tells Jaskier that he ruined something important and he better get ready for some beating.

Jaskier gave a nonchalant shrug, "Don't give me that look, I was about to give the small rat her chamomile but it appears to be like she's having her own kind of chamomile being given by you, witcher." he roguishly muttered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You were sleek enough to slide away from Geralt's sturdy arms, swerving from his delightful presence with those butterflies flying wildly inside your stomach. A deep groan of disapproval was heard in the room when you've both given the men looks of query and saw Geralt glaring at the bard for his interruption.

Your fingers began to fidget over the hem of your towel, hair all drenched as it dripped to the ground. The citrusy scent that has been your brand lingered in the air as Jaskier gave you a once over, his pretty blue eyes scanning your indecent outfit before you've seen his adam's apple bob up and down; the bard's eyes twinkling in some sort of way that made you even more flustered.

"Ughm, I need to dress up? Bye!" you nervously exclaimed, shifting on your footing before grabbing onto the door and escaping from the eyes of both men that lingered on you.

When the door slammed shut, Geralt continued giving the bard a stinky scowl. Jaskier eyed him skeptically, muttering a defensive 'what?!' before hearing a dangerous grumble of the witcher's protests.

"Bard." Geralt gravelly warned, his mouth releasing an intense blasphemy for the defensive troubadour who tried appearing innocent like he wasn't admiring your newly bathe look, "I hope a fucking Nightwraith gelds you at night,"

YES. IT’S FOOKIN’ LONG AND Y’ALL GOTTA HANG ON TO THE NEXT CHAPTER BECAUSE IT’LL BE LIT! (Sorry if there are typos in this chapter!) FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​ @uncoolcloudyhead​ @melaninstylezz​ @psychosupernatural​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​ @marvelousell​ @kingniazx​ @angelias134​ @tapismyforte​ @chook007​ @covid-donotenter​ @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547​ @angelofthor​ 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 12

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Your existence in their world had reasons. A purpose that involves the contentment that Geralt never found in the world that he was in. The feelings you have for your witcher makes you feel things that you haven’t experienced yet, desires that make you feel sorts of things as it also was a cause of the Cicatrix that laid in between your chest. The question is, were you on the same page as Geralt is? or was it just a misunderstanding prior to that night?

Warnings: Soft and smiley Geralt! (*rolls on the ground*), Sexual Implications, a needy reader, an annoying bard, MODERN references, mention of Divergent, grumpy Geralt, a soft-touchy-feely reader. FLOOFY chapter! Insecure reader tho. 😭 Harry potter and Lord of the Rings references. HAHA!

Words: 8.5k (Well, Hello long ass chapter)

A/N: THERE’S STILL CHAPTER 13.1 BEFORE THE SMUT. AHE. Sorry for the delay. Happy mother’s day to all the mothers out there! Y’all are the best and real superheroes! If this chapter didn’t make you smile, then this means I am a failure for everyone! 😂💖

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

KISSING GERALT HAS BEEN SUCH A DREAM. The kiss felt like you were in seventh heaven and it also kept your mind wide awake the whole night; even with Geralt by your side with his lulling monster stories and those gentle fingers raking your hair like how he always does.

The gesture even made you a little more giddy than ever and Geralt didn't seem to mind as you've kept yourself wide awake; watching him sleep and never keeping him out of sight.

Though, he'd eventually covered those coy eyes of yours because it was bothering him; coaxing you to stop staring and just have your beauty slumber because you needed all the energy for your training.

A training that you thought would be for Cirilla because they've always had their swordplay fights before the sun rises and sometimes in the middle of a beautiful morning; as you watch Geralt in discreet as he wields his sword like how the waves move in the ocean. Very satisfying to ogle and observe.

The way he handles a sword was perfectly smooth and bland like how your coffee tastes in the morning.

Which is why your face was scrunched in peculiarity when he was done with Cirilla's training; giving the smaller silver sword to you with that reticent expression on his face; his habitual tight-lips now relaxed as he eyed you back with that tender gaze he holds whenever you were there.

An image you weren't used to; but may seem to wish it would be there forever because of how soft he appeared for you to see, not his usual brooding and serious persona.

"This is a very nice first date," you sarcastically muttered; wanting to scoff and whine from how unusual it was to receive training from the witcher like you were some sort of Tris Prior in the world of Divergents.

After the kiss last night, you've expected him to give you flowers, gifts, kisses or maybe more of his attention. Howbeit, you'd remember that you weren't in your world and that he wasn't a typical man who'd woo women like that. Geralt was probably a man whom women has been trying to court just to have his attention based on how beautiful and captivating he was.

Were you his beloved now? A girlfriend? his lover? you actually had no idea and chose to stay silent. Never asking anything more as to not ruin his good mood as he woke up in the morning.

Geralt didn't specifically told you anything about being his beloved. The only thing you understood in his words last night was that you were important to him and that he also cared.

Perhaps, he doesn't roll that way. The witcher wasn't particularly that type of man.

Therefore, you left it at that although it was dithering your heart. You were contented whether how ill-defined your position was in his heart.

"Why am I doing this again, Geralt?"

The latter silently watched you fidget with the sword on your hands, your cheeks puffed from how strange you thought his favors may be. He couldn't help but give you a beam that showed his teeth, his emotions thoroughly in a bliss after the night he confessed; parts of his aggression lifting up his chest, "The bard knows how to fight with his dagger," he adhered strictly to the fact, keeping the sword safely on his side.

Those lips of yours jutted in an opposing pout; your eyes seeming to connect with his spellbinding ones while he continued to wheedle, his cat-eyes curving into a soft shape of a crescent and you were totally enamored. Your heart skipping a beat when he was never breaking his gaze away; giving your stomach the heebie-jeebies, "---Cirilla is finally learning the techniques of using a sword,"

Your mouth was now turned into a tight-lipped one, shaking your head from the idea he wanted as you scrunched your nose further, "And I am better watching you and Cirilla have your little sword play fight," pause. "---I'm not going to fight anyone,"

You've continuously shook your head, tutting at the brilliant idea he'd tried to think of. Though, Geralt was adamant for his preposition; seeming to think the idea won't get you stabbing him accidentally or better yet, yourself.

"We can't be certain that there wouldn't be," he proclaimed, utterly determined.

You huffed out a frustrated breath, face falling right in the middle of the meadow as Geralt stood before you. His comely stature shining against the morning light and you were sure you've been blinded, "Right. Bad people are chasing you still,"

A bashful look has been unintentionally given to the witcher, lighting up an amused crooked smile and hum from the latter as he stayed completely taciturn, admiring the shy woman that stood before him.

You've suddenly felt him shift, turning your focus back at the Herculean, white haired Legolas as he'd languidly took a step back, looking calm and composed as he firmly ordered. His smile falling, turning all ruminative.

"Hit me."

More complaints were sent for what he requested, finding the whole ordeal somehow lamented because all you ever held was a pen, paper or laptops that certainly doesn't deal with people shedding blood unless you stab a pen at them. Sure, you've dreamt of fighting in combat in fantasy series or movies; but in your imagination, you were skilled. The version of yourself that you had in your dreams had talent and the one you have today only had idiotical abilities to plot your own demise because of how foolish you were in their world.

"Can't I fight with Jaskier?"

Geralt cocked his head to the side; in utter amusement as a small smile carved his pretty, luscious lips that grabbed all your attention. The witcher immediately noticed and had a smug glint in his amber eyes as he talked, "If you wish to annoy people and woo the king then he is excellent at it," pause. "---You wouldn't learn how to use a real sword from the bard. Unless, using a lute as a form of weapon in the middle of a royal banquet is your choice of fighting then Jaskier would do a great job,"

Thus, from the moment Geralt has made his utterance, Jaskier somehow had the luckiest time on planning to feed Roach as he emerged from the doorway, ceasing himself from sending a teasing ridicule as his name has been called in vain; backstabbing him by finding entertainment from how he tried shielding himself from the incident back in the years.

"I've never received any compliments from you don't you, witcher?" he hollered back, enclosing his mouth with a hand as he called from afar; a bucket full of Roach's food on the other.

Jaskier seen Geralt shake his head, a surprising beam drawing his face as the witcher playfully wisecracked out loud, "You don't need them, Jaskier."

The harmless banter made Jaskier pucker his lips in surprise, never anticipating how he'd gradually changed from being the brooding, reserved witcher to the grinning, active man he was seeing as he was teaching a woman who had no inspiration on learning the techniques of sword fighting.

Geralt simply turned his head to see you awkwardly holding onto the base of Cirilla's sword; having a gawky, hunched stance and the witcher took heed of it but chose not to correct it yet. You were dubious of even holding a sword and also a lot more hesitant as you've tried to strike a blow at his face. Without effort, he'd simply dodged the attack with one hand using minimal strength. The swords instantaneously crashing against each other with a satisfying ring of metals colliding.

Unfortunately, the weapon flew out of your hands as he'd dodged your strike, shamefully falling on the ground with a soft thud. Geralt snapped his eyes at the sword that fell from your hands before feeling his eyes turn to you, "Midget." he calmly scolded, having at least a massive amount of patience for you, "---Take it easy." you'd heard him advice. Baritone timbre soft but still rough which stirred that familiar warmth pooling just below your stomach; heart beat stumping upon your chest because of how you were worried it would obscenely pool in between your thighs. Just the thought of Geralt's presence kindled with the fire raging your insides.

You've never had felt any such strong desire for a man other than the witcher himself and it was beginning to grow frightening because of how you wanted him so bad; the kiss you had probably triggering something inside of you that didn't know it existed.

Maybe, it was probably horny hours like how you had them back in your apartment. The problem here was that you finally had a man to do it with, but you weren't sure if he also desired for you the same way as you do.

What if he only wanted you for companionship? Perhaps, he'll somehow find you boring like how your dates went back in earth when the time comes?

You didn't notice Geralt has grabbed onto the sword that flew right out of your hands, sauntering towards where you were and his presence lingering a little too close for those kindling flames aggravating that desire you had when his voice vibrated from behind.

"Also, try harder."

Despite of how enormously tall and brawny he was, the witcher leaned down to grab onto your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours that was sparking up the flames as it felt so gentle. He placed the handle of the sword onto your palm, delicately dragging the other to hold onto the base. Those calloused palms of his enclosing yours in a warm embrace as his warmth from behind seemed to turn more quenchless as time goes by, a sudden hunger flooding your system as your body turned putty with just a simple touch.

You've felt your throat run dry, stance turning standoffish when he'd loomed behind you. Heavily aware of his presence. Your voice cracking and stuttering as you mindlessly thought out loud, trying to wash the vulgar thoughts away, "I--I--I am! It's just that you've given me a real sword for practice!"

Geralt reiterated; utterly droning, "It's lighter than mine," with a simple raise of his brow as he stood behind you, his face inches close and you could feel his stare completely immense, making you look away from how flushed your face have been, "Even so! It can hurt anyone! Can't I learn witchcraft instead? I’ll be the potato version of Hermione Granger! It’s impossible that your world has no Voldemort! Expecto Patronum! Avada Kedavra!"

The preposition was hurriedly rejected with just Geralt's smile turning upside down; replaced with a scowl that coaxed you to turn your head to see him shaking his head with his face approximately close to yours; those amber eyes trying to melt your heart as he still had that vivid, affectionate dewdrop clustering in those peepers that provoked a satisfied sigh out of your ajar mouth.

His pitch suddenly turned austere; mouth tight-lipped as he quoted, "You will not use any ounce of sorcery from my world," you've seen the side of his lip turn into a smirk as he haughtily added, "---Alas, you are also too clumsy and impulsive for it,"

Geralt grudgingly moved his face an inch away; not before seeing a sight of him taking glimpses of your ajar lips as you awaited to be kissed by the witcher himself; howbeit, he chose to tease and ignored the accented feelings he had been trying to hide since the first day.

The latter surprisingly gave a chortle, his chuckle sounding heavenly amongst the birds chirping in the background, "How dare you?!"

He gave your hands consolatory pats as it was already surrounding the base of the sword. Geralt straightened his back, his thumbs casually giving the back of your hand a soft caress before taking heed of your silent squealing from his seraphic touches, "Hold the sword with your dominant hand, midget." before he took a step back away and muttering a mocking repartee, "---Maybe a Hirikka will be a better combatant than you,"

You've watched him waltzed back to where he was as he stood in front of you with a grin on his face, "I shouldn't have accepted your apology last night." you deadpanned with your eyebrows furrowed from how riled up and entirely flustered you were feeling early in the morning.

The witcher tipped his head with his smug grin, "You didn't. I just knew you would because you never get to have your nap without receiving cuddles and chill from me,"

You've feigned a gasp, unclasping your hold around the sword as you placed your palms around your hip, giving him a sassy posture of how you were appalling by the truth that he suddenly was giving; thoroughly surprised by his sudden pesky, frolic attitude he seemed to vibe. He was learning from your modern references and it shocked you even more.

"It was cold last night!"

"The night is also dark," He ridiculed and mocked what you've said to him last night while he was asking for forgiveness. His teeth slipped against the cardinal pillows of his lips, giving you a gorgeous toothy grin that made your breath hitch as if his aesthetics radiated off the sun light, "---You needed my warmth, midget."

A playful glare was sent to the witcher; intentionally keeping up with his mockeries as you gave a chuff and found his mischief rather entertaining because he rarely acts the way he is right now, "Are you a furnace? No. You aren't, Geralt of Rivia. Don't act like raking those fingers of yours through my hair doesn't help you sleep at night---"

"But, I'm your furnace amidst the benumbing night."

You couldn't help but giggle from his innocuous pick up line, utterly finding it amusing and endearing when you've understood it way differently despite of how ingenuous he wanted it to sound.

Their era and how they communicate was certainly giving you a good ol' laugh.

"Are you calling yourself hot?"

Geralt couldn't help but outstare; gawking from the dazzling laugh you've mindlessly given him. He was oblivious of his beguiling beams he has been making you see and the gaze that bewitched the morose of his spirit, puzzling how a mere person could take away the misery that has been haunting him since the moment his mother has left him alone to become a witcher in their world and a lot more great affliction he'd somehow experienced.

Presumably, your existence in their world had reasons.

Hence, the witcher knew it involved his happiness.

"Now, keep your stance firm," he snapped out of his daydream, gently tapping the tip of his sword on your thigh which erupted a squeak and a tiny whine from you, "---I can't always be with you when you are attacked by anyone who wants my family dead,"

You tilted your head to the side, cheekily wiggling your eyebrows as you grinned up at him like a Cheshire cat as he shook his head from your playfulness, "Did you just lowkey tell me that you treat me as family?"

"Would you want it to be that way then?"

Another failed attempt of giving a successful, strong blow has been swung towards the latter, easily stepping one foot back as he blocked the smite with one hand. Though, you hadn't let the sword fly out of your hands this time which Geralt considered as slight improvement for being taught in the first day.

"Hmm. Again." he'd given an entranced hum, giving a tight lipped smile as he affirmed and tried to wriggle out more strength from you because it was pretty much a reluctant strike as well.

You've straightened your back, keeping your feet loosely away from each other as you sighed an exasperated one. The sword falling on your side as you wanted a truce. Feckless of the pout you were giving to the witcher who was too persistent in giving your body an ache from the training. Geralt raised a brow, seeming to enjoy your whining and allegations from the moment he'd given you a sword.

"Stop puckering your lips like that. I'm not giving you a buss when you're acting like a chit,"

A buss. It sounded pretty much familiar as it was used in those romance books you've read back in earth. His straightforwardness tickling your spine in a delicious way that got you flustered for the tenth time this day. You know your eyebrows rose up till your hairline from how he was assuming things that were actually the truth, "Did that mean a kiss?! I--I wasn't asking for a kiss though!"

"Then, acting adorable won't let you get away from this."

You've groaned out loud; fighting yourself off from stomping your foot out in utter vexation from how he'd always seem to knew what you were thinking. Were you that obvious?

"I hate you,"

Geralt took a stroll towards you, thoroughly leaning down to your height with a cross of his prodigious arms; the sword still in his fist and watching how he'd closely stared into your eyes as he fought off a smile, "The hate is quite indistinct and difficult to tell after you've been kissed last night,"

Your heart wanted to burst from the embarrassment, feeling your face turning into flames. Just add a little bit of oil and people could probably fry anything they wanted to as they use your face as a pan.

Reprehension would have escaped your lips if a hand hasn't clutched onto the side of your neck, his hot breath assaulting your face before you've felt his lips on yours in a hot second; never giving you time to process everything as he broke the buss with a sweet, tinge sound that seemed more soundly in your ears rather than swords colliding in a battle.

His hand behind your nape left in haste, straightening his back and shoulders; acting like he hadn't done anything wrong nor he continued to act like he didn't even give you a small, plain peck to the lips that gave a startle and somehow positioned you into a blissful, heart exploding condition.

"You don't dislike me, midget." Geralt's expressions were indescribable. His features stoic for five seconds before seeing his lips turning into a gloaty smirk as he spun in his heels, leaving you dumbstruck from the surprise.

"G-GERALT! That's not fair!" you stood rooted on the ground, keeping your lips together as you smacked it out loud like you couldn't believe he'd given you another kiss to ruin your ovaries and focus.

He strolled along the meadow, his emotions flying elsewhere as he was entirely finding your reactions hilarious. Geralt walked the path back to where he stood before, turning around in face-front to see your face all red and giving him the stink-eye, "Nothing is ever fair. Now, use all your strength to hit me with your sword."

You tightly grabbed onto your sword with both hands, listening to how he'd told you it should be held and also thoroughly remembering the basics that he told you prior; keeping your stance better than the one you held a while ago, watching how his face lit up as yours turned serious and challenging, "Oh, I will! You're a cocky witcher today and it's annoying!"

Jaskier have fed Roach back in the stable, he walked back to the doorway to see Cirilla leaning her back on the stone walls, arms crossed with a smile that tells how amused she was as she watched how you were trying to strike a successful blow at the witcher who found your lack of knowledge utterly astonishing and endearing; regardless of how he has been fond of having lovers which were strongly independent and knew how to stay alive in a battle.

You were a paradox to his life. Utterly questionable as to why you have even arrived.

"He's not teaching her how to fight," Cirilla admitted towards the bard who subtly nodded beside her, also watching the quote training unquote that you had with the white wolf. Yet, both of them could see how his way of teaching seemed to be less harsh than how they've been taught. Totally aware of how he was also buoyant rather than serious and brooding.

It was like a different Geralt that loom before them as he tutted and shook his head to cease your reckless attempts of trying to hit him with the sword; grabbing onto your fingers to cease you as he explained with a relaxed face he'd given while all you could do was glare and huff back.

Jaskier gave a small smile, eyes narrowed from how the sunshine hits his face and mindlessly tapped the handle of the bucket with his index finger, "The witcher is flirting with the rat, probably want some bonking,"

The lion cub of Cintra gave him a once over, "Some what, bard?"

"Forget what I said,"

Cirilla brushed him off as she went on with her lurking, Something you said ignited a grin out of the witcher as he quietly listened to your rants and rambles about how annoying he have been, "Also, this is the first time I'd seen Geralt smiling like that again. I hope she doesn't leave. I'll do everything for her not to leave,"

The bard gave a nod of understanding. Deeply thinking as to why Cirilla would do everything in her willpower for you not to leave; hence, seeing the smile that Geralt has given you was a simple answer as to why you needed more protecting and a lot more time to stay. Would it be selfish of them when you probably had a family back in your world?

Thus, Jaskier's gaze lingered on you and saw how you giggled back at the witcher who has said something that made him scowl. The mere sight of you strumming along the rakish onslaught of his heart strings from the week that Geralt wasn't around bothered him but he chose the better of it and ignored.

"But, isn't it strange?---" he momentarily ceased, snapping his gaze away from you as Cirilla gave him a nasty lour for whatever thoughts he wanted to say out loud, "---That your step-mother would be pretty much smaller than you?"

The child loudly groaned in response, turning her back away from him as she pulled the doors to go in, "You are honestly the most irritating person in the continent,"

The day has been pretty much a blur. After being trained by the witcher no matter how many failed attempts you tried; his patience utterly high for you to even comprehend that he had a lofty tolerance for your inability to successfully strike a sword.

Your arms were somehow sore, considering the amount of attempts that Geralt has been repeatedly telling you to just hit him with all your might, yet being active in the battlefield will never be your forte. He tried giving you hope, downright telling you that it was normal and everyone improves sooner or later as long as your training had consistency.

You've been a bitchy-pants after the training. All catty and stopping yourself from sending a t-bird for the bard who received a snide remark and decided to send irritating teases that you were just being sexually frustrated.

Simply to say, Jaskier knew you were having your horny hours. That time of the day or that day of the week.

How'd he know? you had no idea. It was probably only his guesses as to why you were acting bitchy towards everyone except Kolby and Cirilla. You were being bitchy towards the men of the house especially at Geralt who has given you body soreness.

If only it was a different type of ache, you would probably not be bitchy.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat your back along the walls of the hallway, the only place where you've found peace because walking in the first floor even got you vexed because Jaskier seem to find your irritation amusing and had been running his mouth about how it was fine to just give in to your fantasies especially that the witcher probably had wanted it as well since the first day.

You were contemplating whether or not to turn on your cellphone; remembering how it was only at seventy-five percent. You've stared on your phone that rested on your hands, spinning it around as you were trying to fight off the kept fervor that has been insatiable and a bother when Geralt has given you one touch.

The feelings and emotions have been skyrocketing, it was already there even just from the start of your morning. However, after going home from the Djinn troubles, it started doubling and began to grow bestial like a monster wanted to come out of your chest from how you badly needed the witcher.

It just wasn't normal.

Geralt was entirely aware of your vexation. Though, he was meters apart from you and was actually outside to take care of Roach. Inside his chest, he felt an ounce of disturbance with the help of your irritations and frustrations; the sensations coming back again and the witcher still had no idea why.

He knew where you were and decided to find you. Finding a midget hunched in the middle of the hallways with her brows tightly furrowed, a worried pout on her face and blown cheeks as you fidgeted with your phone.

Geralt fought the urge of smirking and just sauntered to where you were, his heart beat beating in blissful thumps that got him wondering how it was even possible in just the sight of you.

You've felt his presence looming before your stooping form, a stink eye was given to the witcher who crouched in front of you, his burning gaze solely on you as he cocked his head to the side, observing your face and the state you were in with a smile growing on his face.

"You're annoyed." he artlessly admitted, never risking to leave your sight.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you felt the burning desire grow even further, turning away to help your poor little heart from feeling more bothered than it ever intended to, "How'd you know, Legolas?"

The nasally mention of that nickname you had for him got Geralt frowning. His forehead creased to the extent that he seemed to be thinking rather too deeply as to who this Legolas was and why were you even calling him that.

"---and now you're the one annoyed,"

Geralt kept his lips in a tight firm line. Amber peepers shining in dissatisfaction.

You brushed off his noncommittal reaction; already used to his lethargic norms as you complained about his infuriating friend, "It's Jaskier! He's annoying me since this morning!"

He just continued to give you a listless look, giving a displeased hum as he wholeheartedly let you rant to him.

Then, you added, "---Just his breathing irks me!" which only a hum was the only word you've received again, "Hmm."

You've irritatingly grunted, giving him a glout as you also kvetched, "Stop the humming! You're annoying me as well! You've been annoying me too since this morning!"

Your cavils has stirred a defeated sigh from the latter. His sudden actions obviously had reasons as to why you were abruptly being trained with a weapon. If only he hadn't brought you with them in the marketplace and haven't run into Tybalt then gallants weren't supposed to be searching for you by fair means or foul.

"What did I do this time?" he lowly grumbled, utterly dead beat. A faint, crooked smile raising those lips of his. You've held onto your phone a little more tighter, feeble arms crossed in front of your chest as he simply gave you his attention that you somehow yearn a lot, "You and Jaskier can stay in one room together while I sleep in yours! Men are so annoying! Always have been!"

Geralt's features appeared to be of someone who was suddenly bothered at the understanding of your statement, his listening comprehension twisting whatever it is that you've said as he skeptically appalled, "You have been with other men?"

Your face twisted in a tight cringe, bewildered by his presumptions that sounded like he was telling that you had a lot of men back in the days or basically his words were telling you that he couldn't believe that you actually had a man before. You've given him at least ten seconds of you just giving him a displeased flicker of your eyes before the white haired witcher proceeded with his remarks.

"Also, are you threatening me in my own home? You're kicking me out of my own chambers?"

An innocent nod was given to Geralt. The witcher simply gave an enervated blink, hearing a serious growl buzzed out of his chest; scrutinizing for whatever your eyes held out to him. The intensified gaze of his peepers searing that says he needed your sincere answers.

"This...Legolas you have been calling me," pause. "--- Do I remind you of your previous lover?"

You waited for more additional questions or perhaps a moment where he could tell you that he was just joking around. However, the intimidating, gargantuan monster-slayer who was crouched before you; never said that he was just giving out any jocularity of his previous light-hearted demeanor as he was all brooding again.

He fervently stared you down, making you shift on the floor as you looked up into his eyes; mirth surrounding the windows to your soul when he didn't budge after you've given him an guileless beam, "Yeah. Pfft. Earth also has their own witcher slash elves---What? Oh my God, this is funny."

Geralt is all wordless and silent; awaiting for whatever explanations you could give him and you couldn't help but ask in a skeptical manner; bizarrely gasping for his seriousness.

"Wait, you're actually---stop giving me a scowl! I never had...one? He's a Lord of the Rings character and I swear to God, he is fictional---Not real! Though, he looks like you because the hair and such---but---" you've jumped from one thought to another, feeling the scrutiny under his gaze and obviously nervous that he appeared to look like he would grab his sword and look for the man to behead him. Though, it will never happen due that Legolas was entirely fictitious to even start.

You ceased yourself from trying to explain the background story of Legolas for Geralt. Your nerves getting the best of you whenever you were being interrogated. An exhale of breath escaped your lips as you took a good look at the grimacing witcher before witlessly reaching onto his face with your palms on either side of his chiseled face as you gave him your best doe-eyes, sweetly trying not to coo at how his brooding demeanor actually makes him look fetching nevertheless.

"Stop being mad at me," you buttered his silence up with a tender tone of yours and the way he scrunched his nose and appeared to be looking bizarre tells you that your sweet-talking was cringe-worthy because of how you probably never knew how to simmer a man's troubled day.

Or he was just not used to gentleness.

You've retracted your hands away from Geralt's face and tried your best in avoiding those questioning and bemused eyes of his as you abruptly stood on your feet, shamefully rubbing your nape as you had yourself wincing from the second hand embarrassment of treating Geralt like he was some soft baby, reminding yourself to never do it again, "I am embarrassing myself,"

At the time you've stood up, Geralt also has been on one's feet. He didn't mean to look at you weirdly as you've cupped his face with that tender gaze inside your eyes. When the moment your delicate fingers brushed his, he felt as if he was in utopia. The man wasn't just used to intimate touches especially your caresses that felt like Gossamer.

Geralt just wasn't used to people treating him like he was actually human instead of someone who deserved to be treated differently.

Only Renfri, Yennefer and you had this effect on him. Though, with yours seemed to be much stronger.

Your panicking state urged you to flee from his presence, but the witcher wasn't going to let you go that easily as he'd caught your wrist; gently pulling you as your back hit the wall. Both hands and fingers scooping your neck like a baby chicken he'd caught and decided to take care of as his his warm touch skimmed till his thumbs brushed against your jaw, carefully urging you to peer up into those amiable gazes he successfully tries to give.

"I'm not mad." he dearly reassured, his small smile bringing your heart into euphoria because he was much more beautiful this way; smiling as if the world hasn't condemned him with an ill-fate of being a witcher.

Your beams were difficult to fight off; immediately giving him a smile as he also did as well. Chiefly, only giving you the sight of his crinkled eyes. His thumbs tenderly caressing your jaw which coaxed you to calm down from being fidgety which was totally a good medicine because your nervous jitters actually ceased with just his gentle touches.

You've grabbed onto his hand, memorizing his soft features as it was ever been a rare sight. Never believing he was acting the way he right now towards you. Your fingers brushing against his hands like a feather tickling the witcher's sanity.

Before another utter cockblocker slash disturbance came trudging up the staircase and somehow found you both in an heartfelt position; with Geralt cradling your face like no other.

"Oh! Ughm, this is a rare sight." Jaskier ceased his steps, midway through the hall, the bard's growing grin seeming to give you jitters as his ridicule began, "---and the small rat has been sexually frustrated, Geralt!"

You just wanted to strangle him sometimes.

"Cot damn it, Jaskier! SHUT UP!" you exclaimed, totally flustered as Geralt dropped his hands to the side; looking between you and Jaskier in ponder; those eyes of his full of curiosity, "You're...?"

"I AM NOT FEELING SMUTTY!"

If only you could dig and cover yourself up from the embarrassment, you would.

"---Smutty."

"You get my point, Geralt! I know you do!"

Geralt had his forehead in a tight wrinkle, thoroughly thinking what you meant; though, he understood none because the word seem to be peculiar, "Midget."

Jaskier exhaled an exasperated breath, dramatically rolling his eyes as he waved you both off and curved right pass between the both of you, entering his chambers to grab onto some clothes because he wanted to bathe.

The bard pointed a finger as he walked off, his hips swaying as he does so and never looking back, "She needs some nightly penetrating! You're welcome, witcher!"

Geralt watched Jaskier leave, an amused pucker of his lips was the answer to your questions that he certainly understood everything now and cocked his head to the side, peering you down as he awaited for an explanation. Yet, all he saw was you covering your blushing face with a guilty, forced smile as you washed your face in frustration to give him your regretful eyes.

"Don't listen to him," you quoted and begged for him to just take the bait.

Nevertheless, you've seen him raise a hand; about to start talking about being one horny woman for him when you've stopped him midway and tried to shift the topic away, "Anyways, I forgive you, Geralt. Now, can I braid your hair?"

The witcher closed his ajar mouth, humming in wonder as he dropped his hand to the side; narrowing his gaze at you, "I wasn't asking for any of your forgiveness."

You've blinked back at him, jutting your lips together as you looked away, tone teasing and slightly threatening, "You sure that's your final answer? No regrets?"

Geralt roughly puffed out a breath, muttering profanities beneath his chest, "Fuck." and another grunt because he'd remember how he still wasn't forgiven by yelling at you for last night, "---Fine. Do I have a choice?"

Your smile turned into a knavish grin, wanting him to regret why he even agreed to whatever plans you have for him as you bluntly answered.

"No."

The one you had in mind, planning for a simple diversion for Geralt to erase the horrid truth that Jaskier has told out loud for him to hear was actually another rabbit hole that had caught your feet, catching you going far down the pit like you have been scammed. Clearly, because Geralt's unwitting deep groans and hums has made you hot and bothered every time you've tried combing his hair along his snowy locks.

You were wincing every time he has his nose flaring whenever your fingers thread along his hair, the knots giving his head a rough yank from how you were trying to untangle those knots.

Geralt sat on the floor; his arms on either side of the bed. With you who sat on the bed and your legs criss-cross behind his impressive, thewy back; tempted to just give him a big hug because he seemed so comforting but chose not to based on how grouchy he became once you've combed his hair with your fingers.

You didn't even know if he was irritated or somehow liking the whole situation because he was deeply growling, groaning and eventually having to hear a slip of guttural, restrained whimpers that caught your ears. Enlivening that cravings and curiosity you had for some human touch.

"Midget..." he grumbled another complain and lowly warned, hearing the baritone growl he'd ought for you to hear which made you ignore his protests as you had your own protestations as well, "Stop complaining. Also, don't you own a comb? Your hair---It's---Oh! I'm sorry! Can you please stop growling and moaning at the same time!"

His head was minimally pulled back because of your reckless combing. Your nose scrunched even more as you'd received another menacing hum that tells he was close to hitting your face with a pillow because of how rough you were taking care of his hair. It's not that you weren't rough, but the locks in his hair was frustrating you to the highest.

"Hmm."

You subtly leaned down, sneaking your head to the side of his face to see his expressions void of emotions. The typical Geralt whom you've met as he felt your presence nearer, he'd turned his head to give you a lackadaisical look in his eyes that tells that you were stressing him out.

Your eyes twinkled apologetically as you had no problem in receiving a glare from the fussed out witcher. "Well, that sounds like a displeased hum," you stated as a matter of fact, shrugging your shoulders before straightening your spine and grabbing onto his Ivory roots again, "---and a different kind as well,"

He sighed in defeated, letting you handle his hair in spite as he simply closed his eyes. There was no more backing out as he was now sat in front of you, hair all untied as you've threatened to cut his hair with a scissor you've managed to have that was sat beside you.

"Bad kitty! You're liking this, aren't you? You like your hair being pulled!"

No answer was received and you left it at that. Thinking that maybe he wanted silence as you went on with brushing his hair with your fingers. Now, all gentle as the tangles were already free from the knots. It was certainly improvement; in Geralt's side because he stopped complaining after you scolded him so and quietly waited for you to finish; showing like he trusted you with his hair or whatever.

With a gentle tuck of his hair behind his ears, the witcher was all putty on your hands. Hearing a low rumble that resonated off him in pleasure and satisfaction because of how your touch was sending torment to the cravings he had for you.

Hence, his patience and respect he had for not throwing you over the bed and just relishing in with those insatiable desires he had for you needed and deserved an applause because of his high-capacity to resist the mania.

His appetite was surely in a famished mayhem as he breathed in slow and deep, your gentle touches that raked through his roots and his cravings growing more and more uncontrollable with each passing day and night.

Maybe, the scar you had on your chest had effects. Lewd effects for the both of you.

After minutes of comfortable---well, aching moments for Geralt; you've heard him mutter through gritted teeth in the midst of his slow breathing, "I'm not a cat."

You were already at the ends of his Ivory hair, simply braiding them in perfection as you objected, "But, you are! My grumpy kitty!"

There was no response again and you focused on braiding his marvelous hair and let the silence flow. You were actually just hearing him breath as it also calmed your nerves; a bewildering occurrence on how one's breathing could simply put you in peace.

You've grabbed onto his black ponytail which seemed to be owned by Cirilla and tightly tied onto the ends. Small hairs that seemed to not be possible in tying them down were imperfectly out of its nest; though, the ruggish effect it gave was actually making it look perfect for him.

"There! Done!" you mirthfully exclaimed, giving out a tiny tee-hee before you recklessly surrounded your arms around his musclebound shoulders. The irresistible urges just telling you to cease from being shy even just for today and be more of your unshackled self; stepping out of your timid borders every once in a while. It surprised the witcher with your touchy-feely attitude as his body went stiff when you've embraced him from behind, "See? I told you! You'll still look beautiful with your hair braided! Now, payment time, mister!"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, clicking his tongue as he tried to find any words to say from your hasty, sweet gestures while he was not one who is used to receiving such care. Geralt had no words to say, his mind going in a haywire as he suddenly saw your palms in front of his face, begging like a peasant with your face nuzzled to his side as he weirdly stared at your palm.

"You want coins?" he skeptically questioned, your warmth and scent crashing his ability to think straight. You've dropped your arm around his shoulders, your actions seeming to surprise you as well but you paid no heed and just wanted him closer; his warmth insatiable as you hugged Geralt tighter. Your warm touches giving his body to adjust and be used to it as you felt him slowly relaxing against your hold.

You peeked from the side of his face, giving him a twinkle of those vindicated eyes as he languidly turned his head to see you giving such a naive look that he couldn't help but be fond of everyday. If it would take his hair to be braided for you to sweetly look at him like how you do right now; he would take the risk on letting his hair get yanked, "I don't know. Whatever payment you have in mind---I would love it,"

Faces were inches apart. You've seen the way his eyes glow in sudden mischief. His risquè suggestion making your heart warm in a way that got your ravenousness fueled as your face felt the blush and sudden excitement, "The one I have in mind is quite unseemly for your chastity,"

You gave a giggle, always loving how he'd intensely stare into your eyes like you've given light to his darkness; that type of glow inside his eyes that got your insides churning whenever he does, "Aren't you playful and naughty today, Geralt?!"

Geralt gave a tight-lipped smile; knowing you wouldn't accept his ravenous suggestion because of particular things he knew about. The witcher knew he wasn't wrong, he can never be wrong by what he was sensing.

However, a rare smirk was promptly shown, the ingenuous flicker inside your eyes changing in just a snap of one's fingers as it turned suggestive and playful, "What if I actually want that?"

It was what your heart wants and what those voices inside your head has been whispering. The mere idea of Geralt defiling your chastity that you have been treasuring because no other men deserved was utterly thrilling and worth it.

Not because of the thought that he was striking, but he was the only man you've wholeheartedly trusted and probably have given your heart like he was a king no matter how unsure of what you were in his life.

Closer and closer, you went in for the kill. Just his golden peepers alone was enough to pull you into a hypnotizing trance as you closed the space between you both, landing your lips to his in a soft, birdsweet peck that got you insides melting and the desire rapidly coming back in scorching flames, "I thought you wanted to indulge my curiosity all night long?"

Your words were temptingly drawled slower as your warm breath hit those ajar lips of his, an impenetrable haze in his eyes that suddenly brought uncertainty to what Geralt actually meant the last time you had the bathroom moment, your sudden confidence kind of wavering but still you've wanted to see how he was fond of you the way you also had your affections for him, "When I told you I was curious, it’s true, Geralt."

You've brushed your lips together and felt the witcher sigh before you had given one last honeyed kiss to his lips in which Geralt had puckered back, raising your hopes that he was solicitous about you.

'More,' his consciousness and emotions echoed, kissing you back with the same tenderness you held for him. He seemed like he was about to deepen the kiss; breathing through his luscious lips before you've felt the pillowy vermillion brush against yours as he abruptly ceased, hearing him lowly growl as he kept the tip of his nose, touching yours in an eskimo kiss before slowly pulling away to your disappointment.

The hesitation of wanting to deepen the kiss shot a sting to your heart; your overthinking self reading his actions that you've misunderstood his feelings that it was downright doting because you were head over heels for him after quite sometime.

But, hearing his next words immediately brought a weight down your chest, feeling the ineptness, dismay and shame for even suggesting lechorous behaviors that made you feel shameful because you think that it was rejected; thinking he rejected you.

He bedded tons of women. So, what makes you different?

You probably just weren't worth it.

"You don't mean that," Geralt lowly grumbled, his robust shoulders moving from how deeply he was breathing; ceasing himself from doing anything more further as the witcher continued to dispassionately utter, "---I don't deserve it,"

You hardly ignored the shame trying to strangle you into feeling such tightness around your throat as you unlatched your arms around his shoulders, skeptically eyeing the witcher who avoided your eyes, "What do you mean you don't deserve it, Geralt? You do,"

Were you desperate? Was the irresistible sensations making you act this way? Maybe. Howbeit, you would never regret every little thing you do for Geralt because it was what your heart has been telling you to do and not just your impulsive decisions.

Yet, the more he'd talk; it felt like as if the only thing you would regret was asking him what he meant.

Geralt heavily swallowed, jaw tightening as he apathetically muttered, "I'm guessing it's the Djinn's work that is talking,"

His response to your question ignited such ferocity inside your heart, shooting straight to your mouth as you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Did you misunderstood everything he has said when you were important to him? Deeply thinking that him and you were actually in the same page when his gestures and words right now seem to be the opposite?

"Are you saying that what I feel about you isn't true?" you questioned in disbelief. The scoff automatically being done as you've seen the tight scowl that Geralt has managed to put up again, "---That it's all...magic? The thing happening between us?"

You've tightly bit the insides of your cheeks, watching him stay silent and cease from opening up to you as he went on in avoiding your gaze and looking like he was the one who'd been rejected when it was you.

Thus, a continuation of your vulnerability went on despite of his stillness, your honesty probably will rue once it was said and done, "---before the Djinn even happened, you've been clouding my mind since then," a breathless pause. "---Since the first day I've been here, it felt like I was bound to fall for you, Probably, because the reason why I'm here is because...you are also here,"

Your candor has gotten the best of you and when Geralt was about to open his mouth for whatever that he wanted to say, your anxiety has managed to take over as you stood up from the bed in haste, feeling your palms tickle in humility from how everything that has been planned went down the hill because you misunderstood everything.

"Midget---"

You tightly swallowed the tightness stuck in your throat, finally feeling his gaze on you but you chose to look away; eyes now downcast as your toes fidgeted inside your boots, voice cracking when the apprehension was starting to take a toll as it was harshly plucking with your heart strings, "It's fine. We're just probably not on the same page yet and I understand why. Who would want me even?"

Geralt has been ruffled by your sudden assumptions, yet he chose to stay silent and be upset by whatever lies he'd been hearing; only having the actions to grit his teeth together as you restlessly tried your best to steer clear of your own dismayed feelings.

You shuffled on your feet, briskly walking towards the door before giving him a faltering gaze of yours as you awkwardly pointed at his perfectly braided hair while you stammered and tried to get a hold of yourself from the mortifying, stinging shame, "It's probably just...the genie effects doing these effects on me---I'll go apologize to Jaskier or something---Don't take that off, okay?!"

Hence, Geralt could only watch you leave as it was obvious that he'd upset you by his complicated behavior. Thus, leaving his heart stinging as well; feeling the same way as you.

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY CURSING ME FOR MAKING AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER 13.1 AHONHONHONHON XD (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, buddy! Please do check your settings, bb! Thank you!)

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