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chaoticfics · 1 month

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Little Miguel, Big Miguel (Pt. 3)

Summary: You have a chat with your Miguel and Miggy makes a friend. Prev Next Art: LBY2K99 on twt Miguel x Reader, Crack, Fluff

You giggled to yourself as you entered back in Miguel’s little lair. The more you thought about it, the more it made you laugh. Miguel turned his head towards the door as you made your way back inside. He raised his eyebrows and let his platform slowly descend from the air with his arms crossed. “What is wrong with you?” He said gruffly. “It’s just–” You spoke between laughter. “It’s not even just looks, Miguel. He’s even got your personality!” You lean on one of the consoles and hold your stomach while you keep hysterically laughing. Miguel scowled and faced you, letting his platform slowly descend. “What do you mean?” He asked, ticked off and slightly embarrassed since he’s not understanding what’s happening. He bounces slightly once the platform had reached its end. “The kid. The you variant. He’s so sweet, Miguel, really but I forget that he’s not you. “You went out with the kid?!” “He asked to see the city,” You wiped a lone tear from the corner of your eye. “Don’t worry I didn’t actually bring him out for everyone to see. It’d be a disaster if Nueva York saw their beloved superhero look twelve.” You snorted to yourself, amused at the idea. Miguel groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “I didn’t want you interacting with him.” He sighed, his tired red eyes were firm on you but had a speck of softness in them while he watched you laugh. “Why not? He’s adorable. It’s like getting the chance to meet you back then.” You got up off the console and walked up to him to wrap your arms around his waist. “I wasn’t even remotely close to acting like that.” He grumbled, his lips pouting ever so slightly and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

You hum and rest your cheek on his broad chest, squishing closer to him. You think back on the kid–as adorable as he was, you couldn't deny that this is a much friendlier version of Miguel.

“Maybe you did act like that. Just inside.” You squeeze your arms around him and you feel him huff. “I’m serious,” He rolls his eyes. You place your chin on his pecs, looking up at him. “We’re not the same person.” “I know that. You think I don’t know that?” You frown and stand straighter. “It’s just sweet to see you so happy, even if it’s not you. I feel like maybe…maybe at least a version of you can be happy.” Miguel squints his eyes at you and lets go, crossing his arms once again. “Elaborate?” “Talk to the kid.” You say, folding your hands together. “Give him tips on how to be Spider-Man. Help him with the things you didn’t get to ask for help about.” You purse your lips, careful of your next words. Miguel doesn’t say anything. His eyes remained firm but at least he looked like he was thinking of what you were saying. “I know it wouldn’t be easy and I’m not saying you have to but he’s you. And I care for you just like I’m starting to with him. It’s weird but I feel like it could help the both of you. He’s starting the whole DNA change at a much younger age. It must be so scary for him like it was for you.” You say softly, placing your hand on his arm.

Miguel glances at the hand on your arm. He closes his eyes to inhale and exhale then turns away from you. “Did you get everything from home?” He asks. You sigh and shake your head. Worth a shot. “Yeah. All in this bag, Migs.” You pat the filled backpack and lift it to hand it over to Miguel. He collects it from your hands with ease, using one arm to carry it back to his platform and unzipping it to rummage through. You sit beside him as he stuffs his hands in the bag, pulling out various techs and prototypes and resting it on his console for Lyla to scan. Your legs dangle off the ledge as the platform raises back up, you looking down at your feet. “I don’t know how Peter does it.” You hear Miguel mumble. You turn your head to face Miguel but he’s looking away from you, focused on the gadgets in his hands. “What do you mean?” You ask. Miguel sighs. “How he can look at so many versions of himself every time he comes here. I…don’t even want to face one of my own.”

Miggy smiled as you walked away, cheeks burning slightly when you waved him goodbye. He rocks back and forth on his heels before shooting his webs on a high beam and perching on it. He rests his chin on his fist, eyes half lidded in a daydream look. “Where did you go?” Miggy hears a voice behind him. Miggy yelps, nearly tipping over the beam but he catches himself in time, talons digging into the metal. He turns to face the culprit and sees a younger male spider hanging upside down on his web. “Miles!” Miggy huffs a sigh of relief. “Hijueputa– you scared me!” He places a hand over his racing heartbeat. Miles’ eyes widen then he flips over and hangs himself straight, holding onto the web with one hand. “Sorry.” Miles strainly smiled before letting go of his web and joining Miggy at his side with a tilt of his head. “But I noticed you left. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling left out or anything.” Miles frowns softly, a guilty look on his face. “What? No, no.” Miggy shakes his head. “You guys were great–I just, needed some fresh air.” He waves his hand off to Miles dismissively. Miles raises his eyebrows, a pout on his lips as he glances up at down. “Then what were you doing with them?” He juts his chin to the corridor where you left. Miggy stiffens. “What do you mean?” He coughs and looks away with furrowed brows, hoping to focus on anything other than the heat on his cheeks. He hears Miles say your name and his blush darkens.

“They needed…help.” Miggy squeaks out. He looks over his shoulder with an embarrassed look and sees Miles deadpan expression. Mile scoffs and shakes his head with a curl of his lips. “This has got to be ironic somehow.” Miles says. “What? What? What’s ironic?” Miggy pesters, getting closer to Miles. Miles puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, hey–look–Jess is not the kind of Spider-Woman to piss off, so if she hears that you snuck off and went outside–” “How did you know I went outside?” Miles ignores that part. “Then it’ll be on you, me and everyone’s head. So, let’s all just pretend that for the remainder of your orientation, you were with us and not the boss’ literal spouse.” Miggy snaps his head to Miles then pushes himself closer into his personal space with wide eyes. "Spouse?! Spouse?! They're... We're married?!" His voice squeaks, cracking through his surprise and the beat of his heart going wild. Miles falls onto one hand to move away from Miggy getting closer and closer with a wide smile on his face. Miles feels a little unsettled at seeing his boss' tiny face looking so...joyful. His eyes dart from side to side, stuttering as he tries to calm down Miggy. "Uh-duh-uh--yeah? I thought you knew? Or would've known? Do you not have them in your canon?" He asks and gently pushes Miggys shoulder back. His excitement slightly falters. "Canon? What's canon?" "Oh." Miles sucks in air through his teeth. He taps his chin with his pointer finger in thought. "It's.... I'll let you explain it. The other you. He's the one in charge of that stuff. The new rule of it anyway." He sighs. Miggy puffs his cheeks, flushed a soft red as he looks in his lap. He fiddles with his fingers, pulling on the fabric of his suit. He was still giddy at the idea of being married to you-even though it was a different version of him. He couldn't help but bite back a smile. Miles looks over at him with curious eyes. He'd never seen Miguel in such a happy light. Where stress lines weren't prominent, a scowl wasn't etched in his face and where he could see the shine in his smile. A smile. Miles looks back in his lap and feels a conflicting whirl of emotions. After the events of The Spot and dismantle of The Canon, Miguel had given a proper apology that Miles acknowledged but the potential relationship was strained. It's not as tense but it does feel awkward when they were in the room. But here he was, talking and seeing with his own eyes a version of Miguel who seemed kind and...innocent. It didn't seem like this kid had any anger in him. Miles almost feels guilty feeling uncomfortable around him but also comfortable? He wasn't sure. "Hey, you okay?" He hears beside him. Miles takes a look at the way Miggy's red eyes widened, curious about what had him scrunching his eyebrows. Miles smiles. "Yeah, man. I'm-I'm fine." He places a hand on Miggy's shoulder and shakes it gently which makes him giggle. "Thanks for, uh, finding me by the way. And saying you won't tell Miss Jessica that I kinda bailed on you guys." Miggy chuckles nervously. Miles chuckles along, amused that Miggy added 'Miss' to Jessica's name. "It's cool." Miles shrugs and lightly punches his arm. "I wasn't exactly known for following the rules around here. Plus Jess is..." He lifts his shoulders up and then down in a shudder. "A little scary anyway." Miggy doesn't seem to be bothered by that. "Well, I'm basically the boss here, aren't I? I gotta have some kind of authority by that logic." "That's terrible logic." Miles laughs. "Your you, is like, leagues ahead of you, man." Miggy waves him off. "I'll get there one day, hermano. We're the same person!" He says confidently. Miles shakes his head. "The ego is still the same..." He mumbles, but he says it lightly. He began to feel a certain endearment by the way this kid acts.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone while on your back. Sounds of the videos you were watching echoed softly in the errie quietness of Miguel's lair. "How is he like me?" You heard him ask. "Huh?" You move your phone from your face to see Miguel tinkering with his gadget, taking out certain parts he needed. "You said he was exactly like me. How?" You grin and put your phone away in your back pocket. Standing up, you approach beside Miguel, looping your arm through his while he plucked things out carefully with tweezers. "I didn't say he was like you. I said he had your personality." Miguel pouts. "That's the same thing." "No it isn't." "Yes it is." "No, it's not." "Trust me. It is." Miguel sighs, knowing not to entertain you further. You lean your head on his arm, cuddling him from the side. You feel Miguel lean closer to you- just a little bit. "He's got a spark like you. I can tell." You hum and he scoffs. "That doesn't say much honestly." He grumbles. "I don't know." You groan. "He's- there's something about him that's so you." Sighing, the conversation comes to a standstill, the only sounds being the sparks from his devices-which Miguel gently pushes you away to make sure it doesn't get you. "He has a crush on me like you do." You smirk. You hear him tsk. "That's stupid." His eyebrows furrow downwards. "No, he doesn't." You laugh. "Yes, he does and it's adorable. Why don't you try to impress me like he does?" You slip your arm off him and place your hands on your hips with a faux angry look. "He tries to impress you?" He looks over at you and raises a single eyebrow. "Every single time I see him. Which has been twice so far." You let out a humph and cross your arms. "You're being ridiculous. There's no way you're actually falling for a teenager." He rolls his eyes. "Maybe not. But it's nice to feel wanted around here!" You say dramatically and look away from him. Its quiet again. "Would you...like to join me for dinner tonight? I'll cook and I could get that wine you like?" Miguel mumbles. His cheeks are turning red, knowing that you'll know he's feeling one upped by his own variation-a child version no less. You look up and smile, slipping your arms back around him arm and he instinctively leans into you again. "I'd love to." Giggling through Miguel's grumbling.

A/N: long awaited and very short but ive decided to make these chapters short but quick updates from now on :) Taglist🏷 @sassypotatomoose @ihavemanyhusbandfandoms @arrozconpepitoria @nanarain @autismsupermusicalassassin @amberpanda99 @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @@m0stergirl @maimedloveaffairs @glassracecar @lazy-idate @peachipeachy @palesatan @sleepingghoule444 @lisaistewdelulu @cicithemess @amelialysm @keigoloveminty @tatatida @peachyrue-777 @laysmt @safixiovi @ilovetaquitosmmmm @your-girl-mj @the-pan-liquid @boringpersonality @jjuxiko

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chaoticfics · 1 month

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break a sweat [masterlist]

“Lastly, your newest Seeker…” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “Congratulations, Sebastian Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne leaps to her feet and pulls him into a tight hug. Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls who are eager to offer their congratulations as well, so you wait for the crowd around him to subside and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his. “Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “I have to say, that was quite a show you put on earlier.”

prologue (G, 1.3K words) [AO3]

Sebastian Sallow was seven years old the first time he rode a broom.

chapter one (PG, 2.3K words) [AO3]

Regardless, I’ll be ready for tryouts come September. You’ll come to watch, won’t you? – Bash

chapter two (T, 2.4K words) [AO3]

“He is,” she says fondly. “Just like our parents, really, but… after they passed, he decided he didn’t want to go down that same path. All the books, all the research – it can be stifling. He’d much rather be a hundred feet in the air than stuck in a cellar.”

chapter three (E, 4K words) [AO3]

“Sebastian Sallow races along the south side of the pitch in pursuit of the Golden Snitch,” he calls out. “He’s certainly focused – I’ve seen that expression before, and trust me, you don’t want to find yourselves on the opposite side of Sallow when he’s this keen!”

chapter four (E, 5.1K words) [AO3]

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.”

“Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.”

chapter five (E, 3K words) [AO3]

Sebastian is waiting for you in the common room when you come downstairs. When he sees you he frowns, his eyes raking up and down the length of your jersey. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

“A Ravenclaw jersey,” you answer hesitantly. “I just thought–”

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chaoticfics · 1 month

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pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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loser miguel master list

(reqs open)

jealousy

main story

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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Lab Rats

Chase Davenport

╼ long distance.

╼ protector.

╼ the future.

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look, I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club?

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds.

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey.

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless.

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question.

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue.

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart.

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much.

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive.

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him.

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table.

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home.

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind.

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well.

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece."

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe.

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be."

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts.

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot."

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities.

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter.

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were.

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him.

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

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chaoticfics · 2 months

Text

The bad girl gets what she deserves

Read part 2 here!

(Link to masterlist)

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader

NSFW 18+ only! This is mostly filthy smut with some plot

A/N: Hi, I just had this random idea for the story pop up in my head out of nowhere about how the bad girl seduces the good boy. I thought I’d choose Cedric to write about since I haven’t seen a whole lot of fanfics about him. And since he’s already a Hufflepuff, I decided to make the reader a Slytherin, they’re my two favorite houses. This is really the filthiest one-shot I’ve ever written for now, I might write more I don’t know.

Summary: After Cedric finds a note in his bag, he makes it his mission to find out who sent it.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings/tags: nsfw, minors DNI, smut, sexual content, porn with a hint of plot, oral sex, masturbation, rule breaking, 18+ only, p in v sex, orgasm denial, bathtub sex, nudity, reader is a bad girl, Cedric and reader are of age, Slytherin/Hufflepuff house rivalry, teasing, swearing

I probably missed some stuff, but this is what I was able to come up with for now.

Meet me in the Prefects’ bathroom after dinner.

-XOXO

There were many unanswered questions going through Cedric Diggory’s mind as he held the little note in his hand. He thought it had to be meant for someone else and it accidentally ended up in his possessions until he turned it over and there was a heart drawn around his name. He had never gotten a note of this nature in his life. He mostly stuck to hanging out with the students from his house, so it had to be one of them. A more broad and logical explanation was that it was just someone who knew the password. He concluded in his mind.

He had already come up with a list of names by the time he walked over to the Great Hall to join his friends for dinner.

The main question was, how did this person slip it into his school bag without him noticing? Of course. It was obvious. Cedric had Quidditch practice today. That’s how this person was able to put the note in his bag without him noticing.

“Hi Cedric!” One of the first year students in his house waved at him, smiling ear to ear. One of the things Cedric loved about being in Hufflepuff was how close the students from different years seemed to be compared to the other houses.

He discreetly put the note in his pocket and waved back at the younger boy. Scanning his eyes along the Hufflepuff table to catch if anyone was staring at him, he took a seat.

“How was practice today?” The younger student asked Cedric. “We all saw you out there. We all think you’re gonna win the next match!”

“Yeah go Cedric!” Another student hooted from a few seats down. He responded with a thumbs up.

“It was good.” He answered. He was about to dig into his plate when he caught what the first year said. This was his opportunity to get another clue about the identity of the person who wrote the note. “Wait. You were at practice? Did you see anyone going inside or coming out of the changing rooms besides the team?”

The student froze and then looked around in all directions as if someone was watching him. “No. I mean, not that it would be my business. We were just there to watch the team.” He laughed nervously.

Cedric thought there was something the kid wasn’t telling him, but he dismissed that thought. He was going to find out who sent the note eventually, prank or not.

“Hi Cedric.” The entire Hufflepuff table seemed to hold their breath as he heard a voice behind him. He saw the younger student’s eyes go wide. Cedric’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes met yours. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized his face was leveled with your chest with the way he was sitting. He knew he wasn’t the only one that noticed it as you smirked at him.

For most of his time at Hogwarts, Cedric had tried to stay out of the way of the Slytherins due to their reputation as bullies, but with you, he just couldn’t do it. Being in the same year and having the same preferences for school subjects, you had most of your classes with him.

The other kids warned him about being scared of you, so he felt nervous around you. There would be times where he’d catch you looking in his direction, and instead of looking away with a blush and a giggle like the other girls, he’d find himself taken aback by how you’d maintain eye contact and bat your lashes as if daring him to look away first.

“What are you doing here?” A student from your year asked you in a warning sort of way.

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t I just wish good luck to another team without being interrogated?”

“Why would you wish us good luck?” The same student frowned at you. “Our team is playing against yours. In case you forgot.”

“Well, it’s not against rules of friendly competition to wish good luck to the opponents. In case you forgot.” Cedric couldn’t stop the grin from popping out of his face at your wit.

“Anyways,” you said with a wave of your hand as if you got a minor inconvenience out of the way. “I came to wish Cedric good luck.”

“Me? Why me?” Cedric turned his whole body outside the bench so that his knees were almost touching you.

“Because you’re the Seeker and Captain. You’re a very important player.” You purred.

You leaned down and lightly placed your hands on his knees. If he thought you didn’t make him any more nervous, he was wrong. This was the first time he had the chance to see your face this close. He could feel his heart racing as his eyes involuntarily went to your lips.

He felt his breathing become shallower than it already was as you leaned into his ear. “I’ve seen the way your little friends look up to you. Not to put more pressure on you, but if I were them, I would want the best for my hero.”

“Th-Thanks?” Was all that could come out of his mouth. You leaned back away from his ear to take a look at his flushed face.

“Of course. Good luck. And see you later.” You winked and got up before leaving the Great Hall.

Did you just flirt with him? You had to be. You weren’t as shy and quiet as the girls in Hufflepuff. You were a Slytherin, but he could see how you embodied a bit of the traits from other houses too. You had the boldness of a Gryffindor, the wit of a Ravenclaw, and you were as hardworking as the Hufflepuffs even though you weren’t shy.

He’d seen you being flirty around the boys in your house, not that it led to anything serious. Sometimes, he wondered how your relationship would have been had you been sorted into the same house. You would’ve become good friends with him, Cedric was sure of it.

As you got older and started sharing more class with him, he noticed little things about you he never thought about. Like how when you would get into trouble with the other Prefects, you’d get into fights with them, but whenever Cedric would catch you breaking the rules, it was like you were a whole different person with the way you’d accept whatever punishment he had to give you with a smirk.

To have your attention be focused on him, had him feeling some type of way he never felt with any other girl who flirted with him. He thought you were one of the most beautiful girls in school, but your reputation for also being one of the most intimidating Slytherins was what set you apart from those other beautiful girls. In other words, he didn’t think he had a chance with you.

“Who cares what she thinks, Cedric. We’re gonna be the best team at our match!” One of his teammates exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

“Yeah, she’s just a big meanie.” Another first year boy said.

“Don’t worry guys. I won’t let you down.” Cedric patted him on the head and gave a reassuring smile.

—

Gripping the note inside his pocket, Cedric made his way past the other students around him, going off to the library to catch up on studying or to retire to their common rooms. He needed to find out the identity of the person who wrote the note. Had it not contained a heart with his name on it, he wouldn’t be as suspicious of someone asking to meet somewhere as private as the Prefects’ bathroom.

Cedric kept a grip on his wand with his other hand while he considered the possibility that it could just be a prank. He was wise enough to know how to handle himself.

His grip on his wand tightened as he stood in front of the door to the bathroom and muttered the password.

You were the one he should have suspected from the beginning, Cedric realized as his eyes met yours.

“Hi, Cedric. I see you got the note I sent you.” You greeted him, taking a step closer to him. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in your appearance. He took a seat on one of the benches next to the large bathtub. “And no, it’s not a prank.”

He couldn’t and wouldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes wander around your body, covered by nothing but a towel. Your hair was up in a messy bun and droplets of water still clung to your skin.

“But h-how did you-” Cedric couldn’t finish his sentence, so you finished it for him.

“How did I put the note in your bag? Easy. During Quidditch practice I snuck into the changing room, and your little first year friends saw me. Had to make them shut up. Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt them. How did I get in here? That was much easier. I asked the new fifth year Prefect, Malfoy, for the password in exchange for getting me to buy cigarettes and alcohol for him. He’s quite insufferable, really. Not all of us in Slytherin can stand him. Especially the older ones.”

“I know.” You said nonchalantly, pouting your lips. “I’m setting a bad example for the younger students. But wouldn’t you have done the same?” You stepped closer to him and untucked his tie from his sweater. You were standing between his legs, leaning towards him. He couldn’t stop inhaling your intoxicating scent as it overtook him, leaving him unable to answer.

“Oh that’s right.” You flicked your eyes towards him and smirked. “You’re a good boy. You wouldn’t give in. Are you gonna turn me in? For being somewhere I’m not supposed to be?”

“Why did you get me to come here then?” Cedric took a deep breath. You continued to fidget with his tie.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You gently tugged on the piece of fabric to the point of your noses almost touching. He held his breath as he saw you lick your lips.

Before you gave him time to answer, you whispered, “It’s because I want to fuck you.” He knew girls talked about him like that behind his back based on what his guy friends reported to him, but he had never had anyone say that sentence to his face.

He was shocked and taken aback by your boldness, but also turned on. The erection that had been forming in his trousers throughout the entire conversation only confirmed it.

The fact that you weren’t even touching his skin made him whimper.

“What’s wrong, Cutie?” That nickname you used unlocked a part of Cedric that wanted to rip that flimsy towel off your body and plant his lips onto every inch of your skin until you were the one who was left speechless. But he could only do so much as stay still as you led the interaction.

“You’re acting like those other shy girls who flirt with you. Speaking of other girls, sorry if I’m not the one you were expecting. I’ll go get dressed.” You said, getting up to turn around.

“No! No!” Cedric didn’t want you to leave him.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Don’t get dressed!” He pleaded. “I mean… it’s alright, you can do what you want to, you don’t have to-”

“Sure. I won’t get dressed.” You smiled coyly.

“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You could leave if you want. I’ll just be…” he stood up.

“But you know I don’t actually want to leave.” You turned and slid your hands down his chest. He could feel how fast his heart was pounding against your palm through the layers of fabric.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Cedric asked, referring to your bold statement from earlier.

“That I want to fuck you?” You slid your palms down further along his stomach until your fingertips lightly grazed the bulge in his trousers. He groaned at the contact.

“Have you got any idea how often I touch myself while thinking about you? Wanna know where in the school I’ve touched myself?”

Cedric groaned louder as he felt your palm squeeze him a little more firmly.

“I’d love to be able to hump my mattress and pillows more often, but I share a dorm with way too many people for my taste.” You didn’t stop palming his erection. “When I know everyone else is asleep, I’ll sneak into the common room, take a seat on the couch, and spread my legs. I can’t tell you how many times I made myself cum on the same spot shared by so many people. Too bad I had to stop after I was almost caught by that brat, Malfoy.”

“You alright?” You looked up into Cedric’s eyes. No, he was not alright because you stopped your movements. He didn’t want you to stop.

“Keep going.” He commanded.

You smirked as your eyes skimmed from his flustered expression to where your hand currently rested.

“I had to get more creative.” You continued. “I like using the broom closet after classes, too. Oh yeah, and the library. It’s so easy to find a quiet place in the corner. Luckily Madam Pince never checks on me because she thinks I’m so good at being quiet. Lately, I’ve been taking longer showers and you can guess why. You’re a smart boy.” He didn’t need to ask you to know that it was because of him.

“How long does it take?” Cedric was getting curious.

“It’s different every time. Last night, I made myself cum in the shower five times in thirty minutes. Oh, the things you do to a girl without even realizing it.”

He almost choked on his spit.

“What? I’m not shy about it.” You started to unbuckle his belt.

“One of my favorite things to do to myself in the shower is let the water run along my body while I let the soap lather up on my tits. I thought about the things I’d let you do to them, like squeezing them, sucking on them. Fuck, that’d feel so good.”

“Just talking about it, it's making my pussy wetter than the shower.” In normal circumstances, he’d try to stop himself from imaging what your pussy would feel like on his fingers and his cock, but moments like that were far behind, and he didn’t give a damn.

“That’s right. You’re not the only one who’s turned on.” You admitted. You unzipped his fly, taking some of the constriction off of him. He didn’t bother holding back a whimper as you slipped your hand underneath the rest of the material and palmed him through his boxers.

“P-Please…” Cedric was at a loss for words again.

Letting go of him, you took a step back.

“Please, what?” You smirked. “Haven’t you got anything to say?” You were right, he was too flustered to form any sentences.

“Please make me feel good. Is that what you’re thinking?” You eyed his crotch and licked your lips. He nodded.

The both of you took a deep breath as you stepped towards him. You got up on your tiptoes and he lowered his neck. When your lips met, he cupped your cheeks with both hands and you planted yours against his chest.

Finally, after enduring your teasing for so long, he was able to give in.

Neither of you could not and did not want to hold back from your kiss. You let out a moan, and Cedric let his teeth graze along your bottom lip, which caused you to moan even louder.

In his hurried state, he’d already discarded his outer robe onto the bench. You tugged on his sweater, signaling him to take it off, which he did.

“Are you sure you want this?” Cedric asked.

It felt as if the air had been knocked out of him as you let your towel drop on the floor. If his face wasn’t already any more flushed, it was now.

You sat down on the same bench he was sitting on before. He was about to ask what you were doing when you placed your hands behind you for balance and spread your legs, giving him a full view of how wet your pussy was. “Is this enough to convince you that I do?” You asked.

“Fuck.” Cedric gasped and his eyes widened at the sight of your completely naked body. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d hear the good boy say a bad word.” You teased him.

He was admiring how the moonlight from the window made your eyes sparkle as you caught him gazing hungrily at your entire body from your breasts to your hips and thighs.

“You can touch them.” You held up your breasts and bounced them in your hands.

He reached his hand out to squeeze one of your breasts and gently graze his thumb along your nipple.

Cedric had barely touched you and you were already a panting mess in his hands. With his other hand, he mirrored the same thing he did to your other breast while you used one of your hands to trace your finger around your swollen clit.

The moment he caught onto what you were doing to yourself, he slowly got distracted enough to seize his movements, which made you stop as well.

“Let me turn on the water.” You said, gently prying his hands off your body.

“Wait-” he grabbed your hand. He couldn’t believe you had the audacity to leave him hanging after all the teasing you put him through.

“Believe me, after what I want to do to you, we’ll both be needing a bath.” You grinned mischievously. You turned to switch the faucet on.

“Does this mean you want to…” Cedric couldn’t get himself to say the words through his nervousness.

“We’ve got to do something while we wait for the water to fill up.” You said as you knelt down in front of him. “I wanna taste you, so bad, Cedric.” You ran your forefinger along the fabric of his boxers that was covering his bulge. “Don’t you think it would feel so good to have my lips wrapped around your cock? Don’t you want to make me scream and choke? See the bad girl shut up?” You had no idea he would’ve loved to see you do much more than choke on his cock. A part of him wanted to see that bad girl cry and break for him.

“Sure.” That’s all you needed to hear in order to get you to pull out his fully erect cock out of the confines of his boxers.

You gripped onto his thighs for support and licked from the bottom to the tip before sucking it between your lips.

Cedric wondered if you knew how gorgeous you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

He threw out what very little self-control he had left as he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it further down onto his cock. He could feel the vibrations from you screaming around him. His breathing started to grow heavier as your head bobbed up and down faster.

“You look so beautiful like this!” He grunted. He was starting to get hot as he knew he was quickly getting close cumming. He discarded his school tie and started to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m gonna cum!” He gasped as he completely removed his shirt. That’s when you pulled your mouth away from him. He regretted saying that.

“No!” He grasped your jaw and forced you to look up. You stood up. You stared at each other as he gathered the saliva spilling down your chin with his thumb and ran it along your bottom lip. You used this as an opportunity to pull it between your lips and suck just as you did with his cock before you popped his thumb out of your mouth.

“The tub’s full, now.” You said, ignoring the extra protests that he threw at you.

Cedric watched as you climbed into the tub and switched the water off. He soon threw the rest of his clothes onto the bench and he followed you into the water that came up to your torso.

He saw the water droplets that clung to your breasts and made a move to lick them. He made a trail with his tongue from your collarbone to your nipple where he continued to lick and suck as you didn’t bother holding back a moan.

“Cedric, I want you to cum inside me!” He felt his boner poking your stomach at the sound of your whimpers.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him so that his back was to the edge of the tub. You let your lips hungrily devour each other’s. The feeling of your soft tits against his chest only made his desire to be inside you stronger.

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted them around his torso. You grabbed his cock in one hand, aiming it to where your entrance was while using your other hand to cling onto his shoulder to balance yourself.

He planted kisses along your neck and collarbone as you slowly sunk down onto him. You let out a string of curse words as you slowly moved up and down, your tits bouncing with you.

Besides the sounds of your bodies moving against each other, you loudly moaning, and the water splashing, it was dead silent in the room.

He grabbed both sides of your hips and began pounding into you faster and deeper. This made you scream even louder than before.

“Oh fuck, Cedric! Just like that! It feels so fucking good!”

He loved how unafraid you were to let yourself lose control in front of him.

“Cedric!” You sounded like you were sobbing.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He rasped.

“I think I’m-fuck! Oh Cedric, fuck! It feels so… so good!” It was then that he knew you reached your orgasm. You continued screaming as you rode it out on his dick.

The feeling of your tight pussy pumping around him so vigorously in a repeated manner was what led up to him spilling himself inside you a minute later.

“Don’t stop! Keep going!” He ordered you.

“I fucking love how your cum feels inside me, Cedric!” You cried out.

He continued to hold onto you with him still inside you as he attempted to catch his breath and that’s when he pulled out. It quickly went back up as you softly dragged your nails along the goosebumps forming on the side of his neck. On the other side of his head, you planted equally as light kisses from his jaw to his earlobe. He had to check himself to see if this unreal feeling was what he was really experiencing as you started to nibble it.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since the day I discovered how to pleasure myself.” You purred in his ear. “I don’t give a damn about the other boys I flirted with. It’s always been you, Cedric.”

At the mention of the other boys, he started to feel jealousy ignite in himself which was unusual for someone like him.

“Is that why you flirted with them in front of me?” He looked into your eyes for confirmation. “To make me jealous? To get me to notice you?”

“It worked.” You said. “I mean, I just got so bored of watching those girls talk about you and flirt with you I couldn’t take it anymore, so I thought I had to make you see how I felt. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

He cupped your jaw and gently brought your lips together as soon as the both of you had calmed down. Your lips began to move along each other’s more frantically and it soon escalated into a make out session.

He quickly found himself getting addicted to the taste and feel of your plush lips which went so well with the lip balm you were wearing.

“What do you mean by waiting so long? How long exactly?” Cedric wanted to know more.

“Since our fifth year. When you became a Prefect and Captain of your Quidditch team.” You leaned your head into the crook of his neck. He absentmindedly stroked his knuckles along your bare shoulder.

“I’m just wondering, why not boys from your house’s team instead?”

You looked up into his eyes. “Because you’re so much better than them. Just because I’m in the same house as them doesn’t mean anything. They’re not as humble or as hard-working as you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He blushed at your compliment. “Besides thank you, of course.”

You giggled.

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chaoticfics · 2 months

Note

I hath a steamy scientist Miguel suggestion

Imagine he’s working on an aphrodisiac and is being as careful as he possibly can be. However he didn’t consider how his spider biology makes him immune in certain doses. So he keeps the cap on the bottle off for just a few moments. Enough for you to walk in and immediately get a whiff.

But you don’t notice at first and take it as some horniness, however the drug comes in waves. And as Miguel goes in to hug you. You can help but hump him. The rest you decide :3

I love this idea omg- I know I posted saying I was gonna post this on Friday but I got too impatient lol

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, Aphrodisiac influences, dry humping, innuendos. Reader just being extra horny lmao

𝐀/𝐍: You know, in my two and a half years of writing smut, I’ve only written a dry humping fic once (forest sex lmao a clusterfuck bc I stepped out of my comfort zone for that one) so it’s not the best 😭 but I guess practice makes progress

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a routine for you to come into Miguel’s lab every once in a while, but this time you feel a strong sense of arousal out of nowhere

You could see him through the big glass window that offered a wide view of his lab’s interior. He had his back facing you, perched on the swivel chair, but you noticed him tinkering with some test tubes on the bench in front of him.

Nothing new; he would always be working on something whenever you came here. He still hadn’t noticed you were just a few feet away from him, too engrossed in whatever it was he was working on.

You stepped towards the doors, clutching the paper bag in your hand with food you were planning to share with him. The lab doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, finally catching Miguel’s attention.

He craned his neck towards your direction. He held a hard gaze, obviously annoyed with whoever just barged into his lab, but that immediately morphed into a tender smile once he saw it was you.

As you stepped further into his lab, the sterile smell got stronger— a scent you were all too familiar with. But this time there was another faint underlying scent that you couldn’t fully capture.

It tingled your senses but you brushed it off as just another compound he was probably synthesising. Again, nothing new.

“Hey you…” he said, his voice rich like honey.

He peeled off his latex gloves and stood up from his chair abruptly in jubilant, the swivel chair squeaked from the sudden absence of his weight.

Your lips tugged up in a shy smile. “Hey there stranger,”

He had his lab coat on that shrouded the digital spider suit underneath. A testament of his dual life as a superhero and a scientist.

You’ve always seen him like this whenever you would visit him on the clock, but for some reason as he stepped closer towards you with long strides, you felt your heart rate increase and a sudden heat rushing to your core.

“Sorry about the mess, I didn’t expect you to come so early,” he finished his sentence by dumping the gloves in a nearby bin.

Your senses were tingling more prominently now and the new scent you smelt earlier was getting more apparent. There was a sudden alluring shift in the air and you couldn’t tell if it was the smell that was getting to your head or your husband's sudden accelerated sex appeal. Either way you could feel your mind slowly turn into mush.

“Are those for me?” Miguel asked, pointing to the bag. His question quickly forced you back into the present, away from your chain of thoughts.

You nodded quickly, too afraid to open your mouth. Instead you thrust your hand out with the bag for him to take.

He took the bag from you and peeked inside. “Tres leches cake?”

You could feel your heart almost leap out of your chest the way his face lit up. A sight you would forever burn into your psyche. He placed the bag down on the nearest bench and cupped your cheeks.

The coldness of the platinum from the wedding band brushed against your flushed skin as he held your face in his hands. His touches felt like fire to you, making you jolt ever so slightly.

“You're really spoiling me here, mi alma. Really helping me forget about how terrible today was going,” he uttered, slowly leaning his face closer to yours.

His words would’ve tugged your heartstrings but right now, you couldn’t fully focus on what he was saying. The tingling feeling was too strong for you to ignore now, and his gaze he had on you wasn’t helping either.

He kissed your lips, soft and tender, yet you felt like you were going to combust. Those few seconds his lips were on yours felt like a lifetime before he pulled away, but his broad arms now enveloped around your waist, keeping you in his warmth.

The close proximity between the two of you was making you dizzy. You were hyper aware of how his body was pressed against yours, and you could almost feel your clit brush over his crotch.

If you were to grind your hips right now, you could probably rub the sensitive bud just right.

You really didn’t want to ruin a sweet moment. He was just showing his appreciation to you but you couldn’t help yourself from rolling your hips against his crotch just once.

You weren’t surprised when you got no response. He probably just saw it as a mishap. Reluctantly, you did it again, a little rougher this time.

It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by him now because you heard a stifled groan against your neck. He pulled his face away just enough so you could see him.

“Mig…” you whispered. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going through your head. If only he knew.

There were several reasons why this wasn’t the best time to be doing this, in his workplace more specifically, but your mind was too hazy to even come up with one.

Your senses were thrown out the window and you started to grind against his lower half, desperate for some sort of friction.

“Easy…I’m-” Miguel's words were cut off when you felt a sudden jab between his legs. He was getting aroused just as you were. You angled yourself so you had better access to his hips, with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hardened dick gave the perfect pressure you needed.

“So, is this what you wanted? You missed me this much, hm?” The words escaped in a breathy tone, and you could see his fangs emerging from his canine as he opened his mouth to talk. You could sense the underlying teasing in his voice that had your wetness pool your panties.

You didn’t know where this sudden urge came from. You were actually fully intending on spending this time sharing the cake you made. But the euphoria was coming in strong waves and you couldn’t resist anymore.

Your clit was starting to throb as you felt his dick grind against your clothed cunt. Even if he only had a digital suit on that could easily disappear with a few taps of his watch, it still felt painfully restricted.

Your walls were clutching onto nothing, desperate to feel him inside you and reach every crevice.

You didn’t expect him to start grinding his hips onto you too. You had to bite back your desperate moan from the sudden shift in dynamics. The way he was rubbing on you made your panties press onto your slick folds as more of your wetness was spilling out of your cunt.

Your arms reached to his waist to pull his hips further against yours, a desperate attempt to get more friction out of him. Your knees were about to give in and you could only just about hold yourself up. A staggered moan was heard from him before he halted suddenly.

“The window.” He managed to spatter out. Your line of vision quickly turned to where he was looking.

The window, the first thing you would see before you would come into the lab. All the moisture dried up from your mouth and it was not just from your breathless moans.

There was a momentary pause in your arousal that was quickly replaced with frustration. You were so caught up in trying to chase your high, you weren’t focusing on your surroundings.

Any Spider Person could walk past here and catch you both. The last thing you wanted was your husband, a leader that had so many people relying on him, to be caught red handed in a predicament from something you initiated.

He withdrew himself away from you, taking all the warmth with him to pull up the sleeve of his lab coat. It was an easy fix, all he had to do was tap on his watch, turning the glass opaque and giving the privacy you both needed.

Just when he was about to pull you in again, he froze. Something else was on his mind. He turned his face to his bench where he was working before you came in. You frowned from his lack of attention.

“What now?” You huffed, your torment evident in your voice. Was he going to go back to work? Did he not want you here anymore? His sudden dismissal made you feel ill with unease.

“Shock, the aphrodisiac was uncapped.” He said as he swiftly moved to the bench. You blinked, trying to process if you heard him right.

“What?”

“The aphrodisiac, it was an oversight. Explains why you were acting so…needy just now,” he placed the cap back onto the vial, the scent from earlier slowly fading away. You cocked your brow inquisitively.

“Why are you messing around with an aphrodisiac in the first place?” You didn’t think he would need a sex enhancing substance as a geneticist.

Even after he secured the cap back onto the aphrodisiac, your clit was still throbbing and you were still desperate for some sort of release.

“It’s not what it looks like. I was working on an experimental chemical compound for a project. I guess I underestimated how strong the reaction could get,” he said sheepishly, turning back to face you again.

“My God, Miguel…” you sighed. It was all making sense now. You wouldn’t be feeling this turned on without some sort of stimuli.

“But we don’t have to stop. I could pause my work for a little longer for some ‘us-time’” he said before lifting you and placing you on a clearer bench. A smirk crept on his lips and you could see the lust swirling in his eyes.

Despite the air being charged along with your flared libido, you still didn’t forget the main reason you came in here.

“What about the cake?” You gestured to the bag that was still sitting on the other end of the bench.

“The cake can wait, we might as well finish what you started without any unintended side effects,” he ended his sentence with a tap on his watch, disengaging his suit.

Precum was already leaking from the tip…

Eager and pent up.

I hope I did you justice here lol. A wise women (one of my fave fic writers) once said, your clit throbbing is your second heartbeat ;)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @mybvalentine @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @monarchberrysblog @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @safixiovi @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @rosegnome @ghost-lantern @famouscattale @maomaimao @ultravioletrayz

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @club-danger-zone @lauraolar14 @beckberin-xo

Made it this far? Help families in 🍉 here!! (Might as well use my platform here for something good)

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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A/N: Hi y’all! I was going through various prompt lists and saw this one by @chrmdpoet and just had to give it a try! So here is 39. We need to talk about what happened last night!

Geralt x reader, with some classic “there’s only one bed” fun :)

It had been a terrible three days. You knew when you left on your journey that the storm brewing on the horizon would be cause for concern, but you hadn’t expected this.

The heavy raindrops that had been battering you from every angle left you chilled to the bone. Even in the brief windows when the rain had slowed, you were still shroud in a fog so dense you swore it added to your soaked state. All the while, the wind whistled wildly through the trees, which croaked menacingly as they were being pushed to their limits.

You rode slowly with your head held low, one hand on the reins and the other gripping your hood for dear life. Jaskier was seated behind you with his arms around your waist tightly and his head tucked between your shoulder blades. His gelding followed laboriously behind you, having been injured earlier when he tripped over a fallen tree.

Geralt led the pack with a quiet stoicism. His cloak and hair whipped around him wildly, but he seemed largely unperturbed – clearly the mutations that made him a witcher helped him cope with these conditions better than you could ever hope to.

You were riding on over two days without sleep now, and you could feel your body failing you. Knowing from experience that exhaustion hit slowly then all at once, you tried to tell Geralt that you needed to rest.

However, when you opened your mouth to speak, the fierce wind blew the breath right out of you and left you in a desperate fit of coughs. Once you got your breathing under control, you urged your mare on and strode up closer to Geralt before trying again.

“We need to make camp,” you shouted, losing grip on your hood while trying to shield your eyes, “I can’t go on much longer!”

Geralt considered you before speaking up. He watched as wet strands of hair clung to your face in chunks, made note of the way your hands shook as you tried to maintain proper hold of the reins, and was acutely aware of your how irregular your breathing had become.

Geralt screwed his face in frustration. He knew that stopping now made no sense, as there was nothing for miles. The nearest village wasn’t for another 4 hours ride; and that’d be on a good day. In weather like this, it would likely take them 12 hours to arrive. He wanted to push through, confident the rain would let up, but he was riding with two humans after all.

With a low grunt he scanned the surrounding area for some kind of shelter. The only place nearby that could pass as shelter was a shallow cave. Figuring this was truly their only option, he let out a resigned sigh.

Without speaking, he jerked his head to the left to indicate that he was veering off the trail. And without hesitation, you pulled your mare’s reins in that direction. You trusted Geralt in full in these situations. It didn’t matter that your eyelids were practically sealed shut by ice, you knew that where he led, it was safe to follow.

After 48 hours of being hit by rain-soaked branches and deafened by the furious wind, you breathed a sigh of relief as you entered the cavern. That relief didn’t last too long though, as the transition from howling wind to complete silence left you with loud ringing in your ears.

You dismounted first, jutting out your jaw to try to get your ears to pop. Jaskier hopped awkwardly off the back of your horse and head straight for his gelding to check on its wound. Once satisfied his mount was fairing well, he busied himself by removing supplies from your packs to set up camp.

You were giving your mare grateful pats when you felt Geralt’s firm clasp on your shoulder. As you turned to look at him, you wiped furiously at the stubborn strands of hair that still clung to your face.

“Weren’t listening to me, were you?” he said, smirking slightly.

“Geralt,” you said, giving him a playful shove, “I can’t hear anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hearing never returns! I swear I never want to hear you talk about how ‘peaceful’ and ‘quiet’ forests are.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” he said, swallowing a smile, “the storm managed to keep the bard quiet, that’s got to be worth something.”

“Hey,” Jaskier shouted from across the cave, “I heard that!”

You winced lightly as his voice echoed through the cave, making Geralt laugh heartily at you both.

“Seems he can hear just fine,” Geralt teased, giving your shoulder a poke.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, tossing a twig you’d just freed from your hair at the still-laughing witcher. You managed to hit him square in the face and squealed as he lunged for you in revenge.

“Children! No fighting in the cave!” Jaskier scolded.

“Yes mum,” you countered, throwing another twig his way. Which made you all laugh as it didn’t even make it two meters before tumbling to the ground pathetically.

“I see once again I am the only helpful and mature one in the group,” Jaskier sighed as he shook out a blanket dramatically.

“Shove it, Jask.” Geralt laughed, letting you go, albeit slowly. “Can you help me start the fire now, Y/N?” he asked, clearing his throat to hide the way your closeness had caused his breath to hitch.

“I don’t remember you ever asking,” you said, rubbing your hands together to hide the way they’d clammed up after Geralt had picked you just then, “But yes.”

“I asked you four times, Y/N, don’t make me ask again.”

“An experienced witcher such as you are, can’t light a fire?” you teased, making Jaskier roll his eyes at the pair of you. You always turned the teasing up to ten whenever you accidentally (or intentionally) touched one another for too long. At first Jaskier found it funny, maybe even endearing, but after months of this dance, it definitely got a little tiresome.

“Just trying to make you feel helpful,” he retorted, without missing a beat.

“Save it, Geralt,” you said, “you might need those people skills when the folks who live in this cave come storming back over here.”

“No one lives here,” he started, faltering a little as you nodded your head towards a pile of long grass in the back that had clearly been acting as a bed.

“… anymore,” he added under his breath.

You were about to start another round of back and forth when Jaskier came rushing between the two of you carrying your supplies.

“Now, I don’t want anyone to panic,” he started, “but the rain soaked all our blankets except one, and as the only person here who’s done any work on setting up camp, I’m claiming as my own.”

“Jaskier –” Geralt growled, clearly about to argue that if anyone was getting the blanket, it would be you. But Jaskier stopped him with the wagging of his finger before he could get the words out.

“Ah, ah, ah! I don’t want to hear it! Y/N, you can sleep on that lovely pile of grass back there,” he said moving his pointed finger from you to the back of the cave, “and Geralt can sleep on the floor by the fire like he always does,” he finished, moving his point between Geralt and the pile of kindling at his feet.

“Now I am exhausted, so if you need me, I’ll be back there with the horses, eating some very wet bread in peace.”

Have fun staying warm tonight you ridiculous lovebirds, he thought, as he stalked off to the other side of the cave were the horses were tied, smiling to himself in silent victory.

Keep reading

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you’re still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

Keep reading

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chaoticfics · 2 months

Text

₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ The Witcher's Witch₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: Being rescued by the Witcher after being accused of being a Witch was the last thing you expected in life. But it looks like kindness can go a long way if shown to the right people.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Mention of murder, beast slaying, taming wild animals, witch hunting, the reader is beaten up and was about to get burned alive.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 3.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The Witcher was finally in town, it was pretty clear from how the people were crowding towards a certain white haired man who stood besides a horse.

The crowd was sneering at the Witcher, calling him names and yelling at him, as if the Witcher was nothing but a mere dirty dog in their eyes. The Mayor of our town finally made an appearance, making the angry people go silent as they all waited for their "king" to speak.

"Ah, Witcher! We have been waiting for your arrival." The mayor chuckled, walking towards the Witcher, who stood tall amongst the crowd, clearly used to the sneering and insults of the people.

"There is an unknown monster lurking in the forest near our town, it had already murdered two people brutally. We need you to take care of the monster." The Mayor spoke as the people continued to glare at the Witcher. Some mothers even went as far as to try and 'shield' their kid from him as if he was the monster that would tear apart their children.

You stood slightly far from the crowd, watching everything occur as you scoffed at the hostility of the people towards the Witcher.

"They are acting as if he can't just kill them all in an instant..." You mumbled, chuckling darkly.

"You better be as good as they say you are, Witcher." Someone hissed, staring at the Witcher in disdain as they tried to stare him down. The Witcher ignored them all as he looked at the Mayor, nodding silently as the Mayor handed him a bag filled with coins.

"Where is the beast?" Asked the Witcher, making you sigh as the people started to talk about the beast all at once. Half of them were made up while the other half were useless.

Finally, the mayor explained everything that they knew about the beast, and where it attacks. You listened intensely, still standing away from the crowd as you stared at the ground in focus.

The Witcher nodded along, before he started to walk in the direction of the forest that was now forbiddened from entering for the safety of the people. You quickly walked in the opposite direction before entering an alley that lead towards the forest as you tried to track down the Witcher.

"Stop following me." A gruff voice said from behind you, making you jump as you turned around to face the dark and tall figure in front of you.

"Oh! It's you..." You sighed in relief, making the Witcher frown.

"Um... Mister... Uh.. sir? Whichever you prefer, I have some information about the beast that might help you." You chuckled nervously, looking around to see if someone was spying on you. You might get in trouble if you were to be seen with the Witcher alone.

"Speak."

You glanced at the Witcher before nodding, "Well... If you think the attack is being done by some sort of animal like a wolf, it's not true. It's not a wolf." You said quickly.

"What makes you think that?"

"W-well-... A wolf was injured because of the said beast and the wounds didn't look like it was from a wolf fight either so..." You mumbled, trying not to act suspicious.

The Witcher stared at you silently. You were acting suspicious and it was evident by the way you talked that you knew more than you told him. The Witcher took a step towards you, making you look up, still standing your ground nervously.

Witcher frowned at your weird behaviour, you were scared but not because of him, but because of something else. Something else was making you nervous.

He opened his mouth to speak before a sudden growl intrupted him, making both of them tense up as he grabbed his sword, stepping in front of you protectively. A wolf stood before them, glaring and growling at the Witcher, ready to pounce.

"Stay back-" The Witcher mumbled was unheard as you stood in front of him, glaring at the wolf.

"Sky!" You hissed, still standing in front of the Witcher. It would've amused him if they weren't in a tense situation. You, a young girl, perhaps in your mid 20s, standing before the Witcher with no weapons, as the Witcher behind you towered you with his height. You looked tiny compared to his frame, both height and muscle wise.

The Witcher felt annoyed at your pathetic attempt to tame a wild wolf, as if the wolf would suddenly transform into a domesticated puppy and obey your every command.

The wolf continued to growl but it slowly started to approach you, the wolf stance becoming slightly relaxed as it stared at you and your hand that was outstretched in front of you. The Witcher looked at the exchange in slight confusion, his expression was still stoic but he felt confused.

"Sky, come on, what did I tell you about jumping in front of guests like a beast? Hmm?" You mumbled as you patted the wolf, the wolf's tail wagging behind him.

"You... Tamed the injured wolf..?" Asked the Witcher, eyeing them warily. It's not everyday that someone saves a wolf, let alone tame them.

"I would prefer 'befriended' and yes, I did. He is a sweetheart. That is also why I wanted to warn you that this wolf is not the beast. Oh! And the beast also does not live here. It lives deeper into the woods, this area is just the edge of the forest. The people... They forgot to mention something important." You glanced at him as you stood up, the wolf standing besides you in his fully height, his black fur and tall height made it look intimidating, the wolf looked strong and but the bandages around his torso also did not go unnoticed by the Witcher, making him believe the story that you told him about patching up a wounded wolf even though it sounded bizarre and made up.

"What is it?"

You bite your lips, looking at the forest, deep in thoughts before finally speaking.

"The town people provoked the beast. Some drunkards wanted to prove to the people that there was no such beast residing in the depths of the woods, so they went ahead despite the warnings and... Well, only their mangled up bodies made it back here. That's why the people think that the beast resides in the edge of the forest and not deep within."

The Witcher's frown, staring at you for a while before speaking.

"They knew that there was a beast?"

You nodded, "The beast is older than most of us, the tales have been circulating amongst the people since past few generations, it can probably be dated back to the generation of our grandparents, something similar happened but this time, the beast is... More angry. It didn't kill people before like it did now, or at least that's what the people say."

The Witcher sighed at your words. This was more work than he intended to do. If the beast was as old as you said it was, then it wouldn't die without putting up a great fight and he was in no position to get into a full-on battle in his tired state.

"Sir..? You look tired, and I doubt the villagers asked you to rest or offered you food, would you..." You trailed off, laughing awkwardly as you stared at the Wolf, Sky, instead of the Witcher as you continued in a quiet manner, "Like something to eat?"

The Witcher froze, not expecting an act of kindness, especially from someone like you. He stared at you suspiciously, thinking that you had ulterior motives to offer him something like that. You looked at him in alarm, as if sensing his chain of thoughts as you waved your hands in front of you. "I don't need anything in return, i promise! It's just... You look tired and hungry."

The Witcher didn't say anything, simply staring at you for a solid minute before nodding his head along with a stoic, "hm."

"Um.. sir? Where did you leave your horse?" You asked suddenly.

"It's outside the woods."

"Ah... You can bring your horse in, this part of the woods is safe and Sky isn't going to hurt your horse, I can assure you that much." You smiled at him, the Wolf still standing guard besides you.

"How do you know it's safe here?" The Witcher rolled his eyes.

"Well... I live here. My cottage is just a few minutes walk away from here."

"You... Live in the middle of the woods?"

"It's the edge and yes, I prefer living here." That made the Witcher frown his eyebrows in confusion as he walked beside you to get his horse.

"Why? Isn't the town safer?"

You stayed silent for a while before chuckling softly. "Perhaps. But I am not too fond of the people there." The Witcher could see why, so he stayed silent and walked towards his horse.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

You provided food and a place for the Witcher to rest, which he found weird and bizarre but didn't complain about. You insisted that the Witcher rest for at least a day before he went to hunt down the beast, saying that it will give him more benefit in battle if he is well rested and fed. The horse, which you learnt was called Roach, was spoiled rotten too. It looked like you had a liking towards animals and insects, finding them adorable and taking care of them and for some reason, animals seem to like you too, even the most wild animals liked you and it was evident with how the wild wolf acted like a domesticated dog in front of you. The food you prepared for the Witcher was amazing, and the spare room was also comfortable enough for the Witcher to sleep in but you insisted that he slept in your room instead, that the spare room wasn't that clean and that you would sleep in the spare room instead. The Witcher tried to decline politely but you were stubborn and he ended up getting the best sleep he ever has in your bed while you slept in the spare room.

Your whole cottage was filled with plants, flowers and books. The plants weren't everywhere but the ones you did have inside were too pretty and went well with your theme. Your cottage had a cozy feeling to it, the aroma of tea and lavender was always present, along with some books lying here and there. It made the cottage feel like a home that the Witcher didn't have.

The Witcher thanked you before venturing off to hunt the beast, giving you a small, awkward smile before leaving. You waved enthusiastically at him, wishing him luck before rushing after Sky, who has decided to run after a rabbit.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

When the Witcher came back, the cottage was a mess, making him frown as he couldn't find you or Sky. It looked like you left somewhere in a hurry as there was still uncooked food on the table, half done and some books were scattered on the ground.

The Witcher went towards the town, the head of the beast was hanging from his hand. The battle against the beast wasn't easy, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

The town was filled with commotion, people gathering around a tall tree, yelling at something or rather, someone.

As he walked closer, he could hear what they were saying clearly.

"Burn the Witch! Burn her! She was the one who brought the beast to the town!" Someone yelled venomously, making the Witcher frown his eyebrows as he walked towards the crowd. The Mayor took immediate notice of his presence as the people stopped yelling.

"Ah! Witcher! You are back and you brought the beast's head with you." The Witcher paid the Mayor zero attention as he stared at the scene in front of him. Someone was bounded to the tree with thick ropes, blood pooling underneath them as it dropped from the wound on their arm. It looked like a young girl, which made the Witcher slightly nervous. He couldn't see her face, as her head was down, her hair covering her face. The only thing that made it evident that she was alive was the quick motion of her chest falling up and down as she breath heavily.

The Mayor, displeased with the Witcher's ignorance towards his words, turned his attention to the girl instead. He stepped closer to the girl and gripped her hair, making her wince as he forced her to look up.

Witcher's breath hitched as he saw your pained face, staring directly at him before looking at the Mayor in fear.

"The beast you called upon is long dead now, Witch. You have no one to save you now." The Mayor hissed, staring at your face as he continued to hold your hair in a tight grip, making you wince.

You were already weak from the beatings and the lack of food, your head throbbing painfully under the harsh Sun. You were dehydrated, hungry, wounded and scared. Oh, you were so so scared.

A lot has happened in the span of just four days after your last meeting with the Witcher.

You flinched when someone threw another stone at you again, wincing at the sharp pain that erupted from your temple, where the stone landed, making it bleed.

You couldn't even look at the Witcher, humiliation filled your body as you stared at the ground, willing yourself to not cry. You have yet to let the tears flow and you want to keep it that way. You want to keep some of your dignity, if there was even any left.

"What's going on?" You closed your eyes as you heard Witcher ask the Mayor. You didn't want him to think that you were someone evil, but you weren't sure if the Witcher will believe you over the Mayor's word or the people's word. You just silently hoped that they won't answer his question but your hopes died quickly as the Mayor began to tell him what happened.

"This girl, this witch, is the one that unleashed the very beast you hold in your hands. She was seen with a wolf, commanding him to attack innocents! She can put animals and beasts under her spell, making them do whatever she please." The Mayor spit out, glaring at you as you kept your eyes closed and your head low.

"Just look at her! She has been punished but she has yet to utter a word of apology or even a tear in remorse! She is a threat to the town and the people!"

"Burn her!"

"Kill her!"

Were the words that followed soon after the Mayor stopped talking, making the Witcher step in front of you protectively, just like how he did before when he saw Sky as a threat.

"Witcher, what are you doing?!" The Mayor fumed, staring at the Witcher in anger and annoyance.

"Keep your hands away from the girl." He said quietly, his sword already out, the beast's head thrown somewhere on the ground. No one dared to put up a fight against the Witcher, everyone was too cowardly to try and fight him.

"The Witch has put you under a spell too, Witcher!" The Mayor exclaimed as the people started to insult both of you.

You whimpered, staring at the people and the Witcher in fear.

"What good will it do to you even if you safe her? She is a damned witch that should rot in hell for her crimes!" The people agreed, trying to step closer to her before the Witcher pointed his sword towards them, making them step back in fear.

"I will keep her."

That made the whole town silent as you stared at the Witcher in confusion and shock.

He couldn't let them kill you, not when you were the only one that treated him like a human and showed him kindness, it pained him to see you in such a state and he will not let you get harmed. You took care of him, and it was now his turn to do so.

He gripped his sword tightly, glaring at whoever dared to step towards them.

"Give me the girl." He hissed, his gaze making everyone scared, some even rushing away to their home to not face his wrath.

The air was tense, people stared at you and the Witcher with scared and disgusted expression while the Mayor was deep in thought. The town was known for its cowardly people and after watching the Witcher walk with the head of a beast in his hand, nobody wanted to fight him.

"What will we get in return if we let the girl go unpunished?" The Mayor asked, smirking as he stared at the Witcher.

"You can keep your coins." He grumbled, throwing the pouch of coins towards the Mayor that he got as a payment when he first came here to slay the beast.

The Mayor checked the pouch before letting them go, commanding people to go inside their houses as they rushed away.

"You are lucky, or else today would've been your last day, witch." The mayor muttered venomously before leaving them be.

You flinched when Witcher's blade cut throw the thick ropes, all at once as you stumbled forward. He caught you, making you wince as it made you put some pressure on your wounds. The Witcher carried you towards your cottage, but not before the Mayor warned them that they had to leave before noon, and if they failed to do so, they will both be punished and killed. The threat made you tense, as you tried to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he walked you towards your cottage.

"Where's sky?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

"I made him leave. The... The people saw him and they would've hunted him down or hurt him..." You mumbled, sniffling a bit as he sat you down on your bed.

He nodded in understanding, before cleaning yours wounds.

"You should go wash yourself and pack." You glanced at him, wondering what he meant by 'pack'.

"We need to leave. Make sure to only pack the necessary things like clothes and some food." He muttered, staring at you.

You looked scared, and timided, not like the lively girl he met that day that took care of him. It made his heart clench painfully for some reason.

"Oh... A-are you... Taking me in?" You asked slowly, stuttering a bit.

He nodded silently, walking out of your room to let you bath and change. Your voice suddenly made him stop.

"You... You can use the bathroom in the spare room to freshen up too!" He smiled a bit as he heard you, making his way towards the spare room.

After you were done packing and ready to leave, you both stood in front of the Mayor at the gate of the town, you stood behind Witcher, trying to hide from anyone's view, the Mayor stared at you both as you began to walk away from the town, making sure that you both were out of the town.

After walking beside Witcher and Roach, you glanced at him as you handed him a pouch with gold coins.

"U-um... I know what you did for me can never be paid by coins, but... I still want to thank you and repay you for saving me and giving up the coins you got as a payment." You mumbled quietly.

"Keep them." He grumbled, walking towards you.

"Do you know how to get on a horse?" You shook your head, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while doing so.

"Let me help you." You nodded as he grabbed your waist gently, trying to avoid any wounds as he helped you on the horse. It made your heart beat quicken with how close you both were.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Geralt." You looked at him in confusion.

"My name is Geralt, just call me by my name."

You stared at him in shock before smiling wildly, "Okay, Geralt!"

And for some reason, Geralt loved the way you said his name.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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Fate-Part 5

A/N: As of now I am putting a little stop on this so I can focus on a few other projects. I really do love this series but I’m feeling like now is a good time to stop. This doesn’t mean I’m never going to update this again but not right now :) I’m at work right now and shouldn’t be doing this but no one can stop so I can’t link the other parts but I will as soon as I get to my laptop:)

Warnings: None, violence, angst?

Word Count: 2.4k

Arms tightened around you, pulling you from your light slumber. Your eyes snapped open and for a second, you almost panicked.

Who was behind you in the bed? Who was holding you with such firmness?

But when you felt the soft breathing against the back of your neck, you knew who it was. You were buried in his chest with one of his arms tucked underneath your head and his other strapped around your stomach. His face was buried in your white hair. One of his knees was tucked between your thighs.

You weren’t sure how your sleeping arrangement became so intimate in the night, but you were okay with it to be honest. There was a comfort stirring deep within you, one that you hadn’t felt in years. You hadn’t been this at peace in a man’s arms since you were young. You didn’t trust many men. Hell, you didn’t trust many people.

The brutish man behind you stirred , grunting softly as he tucked his nose into your neck.

You closed your eyes, a little smile forming on your lips. Perhaps you could get a little more rest before he woke up.

However, that thought didn’t last long. The sound of a loud bang on the door to your room made you jump. Geralt immediately released you and sat back on his elbow.

You slipped from the comforts of the warm quilts and picked up your trousers from the floor. As you were tugging them on, the bang came again.

“Give me a damned second!” You growled at the person on the other side of the door. Once your trousers were pulled on completely, you went to open the door.

The innkeeper stood there with his arms crossed.

“You said you’d be staying ‘til morn, not high noon.”

You turned your head to look over your shoulder to the only window in the room. Sure enough, it was bright and sunny outside.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.” You started to close the door but he stopped you, placing his hand firmly on the door. You furrowed your brows together, unsure of what he was doing.

“If you’d like to stay a little longer, I have an idea as to how you could pay.” A disgusting smirk crossed his lips as his eyes traveled down to your chest. Your tunic top was unlaced a little more than usual, showing off the curves of your breasts to his greedy eyes.

You rolled your eyes and delivered a heavy kick to his sternum, sending him flying backwards through the door across from you.

“That was unnecessary.” Geralt muttered as you closed the door to your room.

“I’m sorry I don’t take kindly to being spoken to like some common whore.” You retrieved your bag from its place on the floor at the end of the bed.

“That implies that you are more than a common whore.”

“Fuck off.” You threw your bag over your shoulder and picked up the sheath containing your sword.

Geralt smirked just slightly. For whatever reason, he liked when you were aggressive when needed. It proved that you truly belonged in the witcher guild.

He followed you out of the room and down the hall. You led the way but he was just a step behind.

A handful of men at the end of the hall fell silent as you two passed. You didn’t bother to look at them. They weren’t worth your time.

“What is your plan, witcher?” You made your way down the steps and out of the front door of the inn.

“To take you back with me.”

“Good luck with that.” You snorted, tightening your grip on your bag.

“Ciri was quite upset when she learned that you left without saying good-bye.”

“Guilt tripping me.” You nodded your head. You glanced over your shoulder to him. “That would work if I cared about the child.”

“You do.” Geralt moved to walk next to you, turning his head so he could look down at you. “You wouldn’t risk your life for her if you didn’t.”

“I risk my life for people every day. It’s in the job description. Doesn’t mean I care for them. I do it for the coin.”

He put his hand on your arm and made you stop. You locked your jaw, fighting the urge to jerk your arm away from his touch.

“I’m not done hearing your story.” He let his hand fall from your arm. “I’d like to know more about you.”

“You just say that but what you really want is to get between my legs.” You turned to walk away but he stopped you again, his grip much more firm this time. You drew your sword from its sheath and held the blade to his throat.

He tensed up but didn’t move.

“What’s with the sudden hostility?” His voice was low and quiet.

“I can stand without feeling sick.” You smirked just a little. “Don’t grab me again.”

The corner of his lips turned up. He could see the fire in your eyes that he had seen when you two first met. He admired the flame, the look of a dangerous predator that filled your amber eyes.

“Are you doing to knee me in the groin if I do it again?”

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips. You put your sword down but didn’t sheath it.

“Come back with me.” His voice lowered.

“I’m not wanted there by anyone but you.” You shook your head firmly.

“Isn’t that enough?”

You held his gaze. A heat bloomed in your chest and made its way throughout your body. He wanted you. He wanted you to stay with him and his traveling companions whether they wanted you there or not.

You sheathed your sword and nodded softly.

“I suppose it is.” Your words were hushed.

***

Later on that night, you were sitting around a fire between Ciri and Jaskier. Both had eagerly and repeatedly asked for you to share stories, to entertain them with tales of your hunts.

Geralt sat across the fire from you with Yennefer not too far. The witcher’s eyes stayed on you the entire time you spoke of your first Bruxa kill. You showed everyone a scar on your forearm in the shape of teeth. Only then was Geralt a little more open to sharing his experiences as well. He recalled a basilisk in Kovir he hunted a decade before he met Yennefer. He pulled the sleeve to his tunic back to reveal a three long scars from the basilisk’s talons.

This went back and forth for a while. It was more like you and Geralt were just sharing scars rather than telling everything to everyone there witnessing what scars you showed and what stories you told.

You both never really took your eyes off of each other. You’d only look away to study the flames. When you thought you had held his gaze for too long, you searched the flames for the color that matched his brilliant yellow irises.

Yennefer had gone to bed in the tent sometime ago and Geralt went to check on Roach.

“He’s never done this, you know.” Jaskier looked to you.

“I’m sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows together.

“Talk as much as he has tonight. I’ve known the man for decades and I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much. And I have definitely never seen him show off his scars like he did tonight.” Jaskier shook his head, smiling softly as he looked in the direction of the witcher. “I’m glad he’s found someone like him, someone he can bond over hunts with.”

You said nothing, your gaze diverting back to the fire.

Jaskier left to go to the tent and Ciri followed right behind him, yawning and stretching her arms out.

You blinked as Geralt dumped an armful of firewood by the softening flames. You turned your head to watch him throw a few pieces of wood into the fire.

“Something on your mind?” He decided to sit next to you.

“A lot.” You admitted. When you didn’t elaborate, he knew you didn’t want to talk about whatever it was you were thinking. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face. He stared back at you, his brows gently knit together.

With a soft sigh, you looked away, your eyes falling to your hands.

“Sometimes I wonder why I was chosen by the gods to survive.” Your voice was quiet and hushed. “What made me so special?”

“I ask myself that question quite frequently. But I’m afraid it may never be answered.”

“That’s probably best.” You nodded. “Do you remember much from your childhood?”

“Bits a pieces, but it was so long ago….” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Do you?”

“Just…. Just the day my parents died.” You rubbed your thumb across your knuckles. “It was the day before I was found before I found out what I’d become.”

Geralt was silent, curious to hear about your past.

“My parents were slaughtered when Nilfgaard raided our village.” Your voice was quiet. “I never held a sword then. I-I never had the ability to know exactly what I was up against. Hell, back then, I didn’t think of how I’d kill someone but now…. Now, every time I meet someone, my first instinct isn’t to smile or say hello. It’s to plot their murder should they become a threat.”

Your eyes left your hands to look to the fire that was slowly dying.

“My mother would be so disappointed. Gods rest her soul. But my father…. He’d be proud that I save the innocent and protect the weak.”

Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There was some unseen force that told him not to look away from you. If he looked away, you’d disappear.

“Tell me something about you that you’ve never told anyone else.” You turned your head to look at him.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed on you but his mind was elsewhere, deep in thought.

“I’ve always wanted a family.” He murmured quietly. For the first time in a while, he looked away from you and in the direction of the tent the others had disappeared into.

You smiled just slightly, happy for him.

With a little sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet and picked up your bag, slinging it across your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He stood up, his brows crinkling together.

“Our guild is shrinking.” You fixed the way your bag rested on your shoulder and then picked up the sheath containing your sword. “It’s best not to have two witchers in the same area. It’ll only draw unwanted attention.”

Once you placed that on your back, you looked at him. He looked…. upset. His lips were pressed into a line and his hands were curled into fists by his sides.

“I’m going to say goodbye to Cirilla.” You told him. You left before he could object.

***

Cirilla was laying in her bed, reading a book. Jaskier was on his bed playing his lute. Yennefer lay in her bed with her back to you.

You crossed the room quietly but Jaskier saw you. He said nothing and instead watched you kneel down next to the young princess.

Seeing that you had all of your belongings on you, Ciri sat up. Her blonde eyebrows furrowed together. You almost laughed at how similar she was to Geralt even though they weren’t blood related.

“You’re leaving again?”

You knelt down by her bedside, placing your hand on hers.

“It’s what’s best for you, child. One witcher draws enough attention. Two would make keeping you safe even more difficult.” You gave her a sad smile. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t want to leave. You liked being in the presence of the witcher and his found family.

“But you can keep me safe too!”

“I can.” You arrogantly agreed. “But having me around would only put your life more on the line. Witchers don’t travel together so people will wonder why we are together…. traveling together.”

Ciri nodded her head, tilted her head down to look at your hand.

“I promise you will see me again.” You squeezed her hand softly before standing up. Ciri hastily got out of bed and wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. You froze for a second, unfamiliar with hugs.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N of Myrefall.” Her words were muffled by your clothes. Your arms slowly wrapped around her and you rested your chin on her forehead.

“As I will miss you, Cirilla of Cintra.”

As she released you, Jaskier pulled you in for a hug.

“’Til we meet again.” He squeezed you and pulled away, a smile playing on his lips.

You looked to Yennefer, who was now sitting up in bed.

“I imagine there is quite a bit I could learn from you.” She crossed her arms.

“Next time.” You assured her.

***

Geralt still stood by the fire. He had been looking down at the flames when you emerged from the tent. He lifted his head to look at you. You closed the space between you and him, holding his gaze the entire time. Your hand found his bicep as you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

His hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over a scar just below your eye. You leaned into him, enjoying his taste and the feeling of his lips on yours. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling your body against his. Your teeth brushed across his bottom lip, drawing a soft groan from him.

Before anything else could happen, you pulled away and bit your bottom lip. Your heart was pounding in your chest and butterflies filled your stomach.

Never had you felt this attached to someone so quickly.

“Promise that I’ll see you soon.” His words were a quiet plea. His hand still resting on your lower back attempted to pull you even closer but you refused. You couldn’t let him draw you in for another breathtaking kiss. You wouldn’t want to leave then.

You said nothing as you pulled his arm out from around you and turned to walk towards your horse.

“Do you believe in destiny, Geralt of Rivia?” You asked him, stopping and turning to face him.

“I didn’t for a long time, but now…. now I am unsure.”

“I do. I believe that if we were meant to be something important in each other’s lives, we’ll meet again.”

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @stretchkingblog97 @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @jensensjaredsandmishaslover

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chaoticfics · 2 months

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Too Far Gone

A/N: Haha sword fights are not my specialty but I tried. I also really suck at summaries. And at writing in general🤦‍♀️ I’m thinking of maybe doing a second part to this though. @wayward-dream if you don’t like this I can definitely do another. I have another idea I was messing with but it sort of strayed away from your request quite a bit

Warning: none really, there’s just very shitty written fighting

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: There’s someone after the witcher, trying to kill him. Instead of killing her, he offers her another alternative

“Jaskier.” Geralt said the bard’s name as he came to a stop. Amber eyes scanned the forest surrounding them, searching the dark for the person who had been following them. “Be quiet.”

Keep reading

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chaoticfics · 3 months

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Nerd!Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

I'm trying to make sure these are arranged in a semi chronological order story wise, but they're not directly connected unless I indicate! Headcanons and Blurbs: Nerd!Miguel Headcanons Giving Miguel Legos Jealous Miguel HCs

One-Shots: Lab Partners Dinosaurs Lost Notebook Breakdowns in Study Town By Any Other Name Split Lips and Busted Knuckles Doorframes and Doorways Behind the Bedroom Door🔥

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chaoticfics · 3 months

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Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then stops himself, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

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