#Stoney fanfic

[altrodent]

stoney from encino man fanfic when? please? begging atp ‼️‼️ /nf /lh

Honey Bun

Pairing: Stoney x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Stoney just being (sweetly) honest, teasing

Summary: After finding Link, and making him well known with the ‘modern’ trends, Stoney throws a party. And you, being his guest of honor, get some alone time with him.

A hand slides a note on your desk, as your boring science teacher drones on about evolution. You look up and see Stoney smiling at you, signaling for you to open the note. It reads “Dearest friend-a-rino, I cordially invite you to the sweetest ass party with the one and only Frosty Link! Please say yes, it’s gunna be boring w/o you. Loviest of Loves, Stoney <3” you giggle as you read the note, a little too loudly “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Stoney wraps you in his arms dramatically, gasping “Don’t ask questions like that, you know I don’t share!” He smiles with that stupidly cute face of his, the teacher sighs “…Just- just pay attention please. I don’t need you bringing their grade down Stoney…” he slowly turns back to the board as Stoney sits down, looking at me for an answer on his invitation. He whispers “Sooo? You gonna go or are you gonna make me all sad?” He pouts, you smile back at him “Course I’ll go” He puts his hands on his face gasping in ‘surprise’. “Stoney!” The teacher yells “Sorry, mister…” he giggles. You don’t really notice it, but he still looks at you… in a very loving way.

Stoney’s yard is filled to the brim with streamers, bright lights and a very strong fragrance of booze. You make your way through the heated crowds before a pair of arms hug and lift you up in the air. You jump before they put you down, turning you around to reveal- “I’m so glad you made it! I was so worried you weren’t gonna show” -Stoney. “I wouldn’t miss one of your parties, Stoney!” He smiles giddily, “come with me!” He doesn’t ask, as he takes your hand and leads you to the emptier back yard. “Sorry, I didn’t like them looking at you in there.” You tilt your head in confusion “what?” He rubs his arm “Sorry I just- I just don’t like it when people look at you the way I do.” You smile, still slightly confused “Well, how are they looking at me?” He dances around you, “Wow, they look so attractive, mhm, mhm, I love them, they look so fineee.” He eventually makes his way back to face you again. “That’s how.” He laughs stomping in place “Oh? Really? And you say they look at me the way you do?” He thinks “well, not exactly, because I know they’re not worthy for you… I might be though” he bites his lip before grabbing your hands and making you dance with him. You laugh as he dances with you, he sighs “I just don’t get why you gotta look so attractive all the time, it’s annoying.” He pouts as he twirls you around, his comment brings a slight blush to your face “…you think I’m attractive?” He stops in his tracks “Uh, have you seen yourself? You are just absolutely stunning… god, and see that’s just it. I feel like the hottest people just don’t know they’re hot…” he brushes your hair out of your face, cupping your cheeks after. “…Stoney, you really mean it?”

He nods “Yeah, and while I’m being honest, I’ve super had a little thing for you, but I really couldn’t squeeze it into a conversation before… until now~!” He giggles, as he holds you close to him “Oh, Stoney, that’s super sweet.” He pulls back enough to look at you “Says you, Sugar! You’re sweeter than a honey bun… now I’m hungry.” You giggle as he looks into your eyes “you look tasty though!” He beings to pepper soft kisses onto your face, making you laugh even more, causing him to smile even more “mwah! Just look at you, you tasty thing!” He presses one more kiss on your forehead before leaning into you again “Stoney, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He chuckles softly “always, besides, if I didn’t I wouldn’t get to see that beautiful smile of yours now would I?” He leans back holding his face close to yours “I promise… just- please give me a chance… and I’ll make you this happy forever, until we’re both old and gross and yelling at people to get off our lawn” Stoney smiles, caressing your cheek “Please…” your eyes almost seemingly swell with the happiest of tears as his words flow. You nod, smiling “Stoney, how could I ever pass up the chance to be with the best guy I’ve ever met…?” He smiles brightly, his lips finally meeting yours. You can feel him smile just as brightly as his hands move from your face and down to your hips. The kiss is full of long awaited love, that he just professes to you through your connected lips. And as all other good things, the kiss ends, as he rests his forehead against yours. “You have officially made me the happiest man in the universe, Sugar… and I won’t let you down.” He smiles, and from then on all you can feel for him is a warm and loving passion for the man you’ve come to known as Stoney.

~

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed! I’m trying to ram through this writers block right now, thank you for the request! 🩷

[byhuenii]

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ SECERT LVER BOY

prompt— “text me when you get home”. (WC: 1.2k) pairing— shuntaro chishiya x gn!reader warnings— not proofread, fluff, maybe ooc chishiya, typos, secretly whipped chishiya, maybe more im missing. a/n— i actually took that writers block hiatus and now i’m back because i miss chishiya and the new season just got announced and i’m so excited BUT I DONT THINK CHISHIYA WILL BE IN IT BC HE WASNT IN THE MANGA :heartbreak:

dating chishiya is like what you could imagine dating a mix of a rock and black cat boyfriend. people ask “oh how do you date someone like him” or “oh does he even care?” even “he’s so stoney..it’s scary do you need help?”. sometimes they’re funny and sometimes they’re straight rude, people assume he is rude and mean bc that’s his front but in reality he is a big fluffy ball.

he is so cat like it’s cute, when he knows nobody is watching he has that personality switch from stoney bored i don’t like yall persona to a quiet clingy boyfriend.

he always wants you to text him when you leave to be out with friends, when you come home, and every hour he makes you text him making sure you are okay and your friends are there with you, it’s funny because he has your location but he thinks they lack.

when you were out with him arisu and kuina he had that obvious stoney ‘i want to go home’ persona/look. the hangout was fun and it was enjoyable. the four of you went cafe hopping, acting like tourist in japan doing the most touristy things and food (which were not the best compared to the authentic mom and pops). you hadn’t realized how long the four of you were out until you got a little buzz on your phone reminding you that you had a work meeting in less than 30 minutes.

freaking out you quickly packed everything you had with you and said your goodbyes. “oh shoot. im going to be late if i dont head out now.” your eyes had widened at the reminder, luckily you had a small bag with you so it wasn’t much to carry. arisu had looked at you with a confused expression titling his head to the side. “what? are you leaving?” a small frown formed on his lips.

“yeah i have an important meeting to attend in 30 minutes..” you chuckled nervously shoving ur phone in your back pocket, kuina whined dramatically pulling you into a tight hug. “can’t believe you are leaving me with THESE two” she sighed dramatically letting you out the tight hug so you can make your rounds with the other two, a giggle escaped your lips “mm sorry maybe next time i’ll be able to stay longer”

arisu pulled you into a tight hug before grabbing your shoulders forcing you to look at him, “make sure next time you have NOTHING to do.” he scolded shaking his head teasingly, rolling your eyes dramatically you waved him off. turning to chishiya you smiled at him before hugging him lightly, he wasn’t a big fan of pda so you didn’t do much about that.

he gave you a knowingly look that you already knew what he wanted to say but didn’t say it. “yeah yeah i’ll let you know” a slight blush flushed his cheeks before quickly disappearing so kuina doesn’t make fun of him. you pulled out your phone checking the time making your eyes widen out how much time passed. you said final goodbyes before quickly rushing back to the metro.

the three watched as you rushed off the the public transportation, as your figure got farther and farther the two turned their heads to chishiya who had his hands stuffed in his pockets little movement, “no kiss? no i love you goodbye?” kuina stared into chishiya’s empty eyes. no thought behind then as he shrugged “not a fan of pda plus there’s no reason for me to tell her. she already knows” arisu hummed a slight acknowledgment.

chishiya felt a buzz in his pocket his hand already fiddling with it whipped it out checking what it was. it was you texting him. a small smile formed his thinned lips “ah too much social event im going home. it’s late anyways” he excused himself walking away with one hand in his pocket the other on his phone,

“—but its barely 4pm…” arisu grimaced before laughing at chishiya. kuina let out a long sigh it may not look like it but chishiya just wanted an excuse to leave to go see you. “alright arisu. shopping spree we go!” arisu tried to protest but seriously who was gonna save him?

3:52 PM

YN : i just got onto the metro praying it goes by fast im running slightly late …. YN : praying that my laptop is all set up and ready.

chishiya loved “i just got onto the metro praying it goes by fast im running slightly late …”

4:00 PM

YN : okay i made it to my stop i just need to speed walk home..i have 20 minutes CHISHIYA : isn’t the walk 15 minutes? YN: YES. speed walking this bitch RN. CHISHIYA : okay don’t get hurt.

4:15 PM

CHISHIYA : i’m on my way over. CHISHIYA : did you make it? i’m on the metro.

4:20 PM

CHISHIYA : YN? CHISHIYA : hello? CHISHIYA : your location is off.

4:28 PM

CHISHIYA : im on my way over

4:43 PM

CHISHIYA : i’m here open the door. CHISHIYA : you’re in a meeting nvm im going to use the spare key.

with each text being ignored made him visibly frustrated, he knows you gotten the message when he gave you the look before you left. why didn’t you text him you were home? the lights were on but you didn’t answer.

he twisted and turned the key opening it slowly, he didn’t know if you were still on the meeting so he tried to make it as quiet as possible, he somewhat succeeded. you still heard the door. muting yourself and turning off your camera you placed the laptop on the couch with a confused expression picking up pepper spray on the coffee table infront of you.

“who’s there..” you grumbled hearing a man’s voice grain trying to take off his shoes before entering, the voice sounded oddly familiar. you walked to the back of your coach and towards the door getting ready to spray them in the face but it was just chishiya.

you threw the pepper spray onto the coach before smiling at him throwing your body onto him, his face was fluttered with kisses as soon as he stepped in. “i didn’t expect you to come now, im still in my meeting.” you pointed to the screen not paying a mind to it. the comfort of your boyfriends warmth was enough for you to forget about the whole thing anyways,

“i texted you but you didn’t respond” his voice was laced with a tad bit concern. your mouth let out a small oh, untangling him from your body you went to go check your phone and it was dead —

a small chuckle escaped you “it’s dead” you smiled innocently before sitting on the coach patting the side, chishiya let out a huff not of annoyance but disappointment. “and you didn’t bother to charge it?” “well..i forgot.” “how when it’s in front of you” “don’t ask me questions!”

the meeting was completely ignored, not like they called on you anyways. “you are supposed to text me when you get home” he stared at you before pulling you closer to him. he wanted your warmth, “i know i’m sorry i just forgot to charge it i was already running late” you wrapped your legs around his torso planting more feather kisses onto his cheeks.

dating chishiya in the privacy of your own home or his is a different side many don’t know about. he is so much softer it’s almost as if he is completely out of character and flipped a switch. he is completely out of character which seems weird from someone of his caliber.

a/n — i was lwk just writing shit…let me get back into my arc they’ll get better i think…nyways !

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Crazy For You - Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Title: Crazy For You

Stoney 'Stanley' Brown X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Dave (Mentioned), Link (Mentioned), Mrs. Freadrick (OC) (Mentioned), Robyn (Mentioned)

Requested By: @zachizthegoat!

WC: 3,478

Warnings: Reader has a mother, flirting, banter, nicknames, prom, Reader's attire is not described (wear whatever you want), very small bit of suggestiveness, Reader is given flowers, brief mention of spiked punch, perfectly choreographed dance, based off the song; Crazy For You by Madonna, and fluff

Stoney let out a sigh, clearing his throat as he waited in the hall, standing by his locker. He had asked you in math class to meet him at his locker a few minutes before lunch let out. And now, Stoney normally wasn't normally a nervous person, he was usually a pretty confident, wacky guy. But, right now he was fidgeting with his fingers and turning his head at every little noise in hopes to see you walking down the hall with that perfect smile of yours. You had been friends with him and Dave since freshman year, and ever since meeting you, Stoney was hooked; line and sinker.

Stoney was pretty obvious that he was interested in you, and you seemed to have noticed. You and Stoney would end up flirting every time you guys hung out; which would also always annoy Dave. And yet, nothing really came out of it. But Stoney really liked you, more than anyone else, really. He was crazy for you, if you wanted, he’d walk all the way to the ‘Food 7 Mart’, just to buy you a burrito; and split it fifty-fifty with you.

But, seriously, you were perfect. He loved the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyes lit up when you told him about the newest movie you saw, and how you’d bite your lip when concentrating on something. And you understood him and his weird sayings, which was awesome. You were so understanding and sweet. You were always there for him if he needed someone to talk to or just hang out with, and you never judged him; as most people at the school and in the small town did the opposite of.

Stoney, though, was so stuck in his head, thinking about you, that he didn't even hear you come up and stand beside him. His eyes stared down at the floor tiles, thinking about the time you shared a roll of SweetTarts with him, when he finally recognized your beat-up black Converse next to his, only then did he snap his head up to meet your gaze with his; his curls bouncing as he did so.

You gave him your stunning smile, one hand holding the strap of your black, canvas backpack as you looked at him expectedly, "So..." You began, tilting your head slightly to the left, "You told me you needed to tell me something." Your voice sounded hopeful, yet curious as Stoney gave you a sheepish smile. “And you sounded pretty… I don’t know, anxious…” You added, tilting your head slightly. This whole scenario surprised you slightly, for all the years you've known Stoney, you'd never seen him so nervous. He was always the self-assured one of your tiny friend group; the voice of reason. Seeing him fumble a bit was something that took you aback.  

"Well, I actually have a question for you, babe." He corrected, clearing his throat; the little nickname he had for you, which he gave to you back in freshman year, always made you smile widen ever-so-slightly and your cheeks burn. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go to Prom with me? And maybe after we can swing by and wheeze the jui-ce." He asked nonchalantly, a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders as he said the last part; almost as if he was having any other conversation. He let a grin then spread across his face, which did help calm his nerves slightly.

You grinned back at Stoney and you couldn't help but let out a little giggle, "I'd love to go to Prom with you, Stoney." You replied, your stomach filling up with butterflies as you mentally cheered; you had been hoping Stoney would ask you. "And I'd love to wheeze the juice with you as well." You teased, giggling again when the tips of Stoney's ears turned a deep shade of pink. He tried once more to just brush it all off and act like he wasn't that affected by your angelic laughter, but he was; he always was.

"Well, I can pick you up at seven,” He finally spoke, his hand coming up to lightly scratch at his cheek, feeling the room heat up to an almost scorching degree; was the school hot, or was it just you? "We'd have to walk to the school, my scooter is broken," He then brought up, feeling bad but you only shook your head lightly, raising both your hands to grasp the lapels of his blue denim jacket, pressing the fabric down and smoothing it over.

"Don't worry your cute curly head about that," You spoke softly, the smile still on your face as you looked up into his honey-brown eyes from the colorful patterns that lay on the fabric; your hands resting on his shoulders, "Just relax, we’ll just have more time to hang out then." You reassured, squeezing his shoulders gently before letting go of him. “Plus, we can get some steps in.” You joked, as Stoney gave you his trademark smile.

Nodding, his curls bounced with him, "See you Saturday, babe."

You just let out a small huff, your eyes narrowed playfully as you tugged on the hanging purple fabric of the bandana wrapped around his temple, "See you Saturday, Stone." You answered back before passing him and walking away.

Watching as you walked down the hall, Stoney couldn't stop his grin from growing, and once you turned the corner and were out of sight, Stoney let out a small cheer. Doing a small victory dance before he went in search of Dave for the last five minutes of lunch to tell him the good news.

~~~

You brushed down your attire, you turned every which way as you looked into the mirror. It was nice, ignoring the anxiety, you felt very confident in it. Fixing your hair again and double-checking that you had everything you could possibly need, you heard a knock on your open bedroom door. You looked up at the mirror, your hands fidgeting with the soft fabric of your clothing as your eyes met your mother's. She stared at you, with a small smile on her face, making you feel a little bit better.

"You look wonderful, honey," She softly spoke as you turned round to face her, "You chose well." She complimented, reaching forward and taking hold of your hands gently, stroking them with the pads of her thumbs. The gentle gesture helped calm your nerves greatly.

You smiled and nodded your head, "Thank you, Mom." You answered, taking your hands out of her and clasping your hands together before you.

Your mother nodded before she raised an eyebrow, a small grin on her face, "You going with that Stanley kid?"

You felt your face heat up at her question as you nodded, "Yeah, Stoney asked me Friday," You answered once more, and your mother nodded. She knew the young man ever since you became friends with him and David, you wouldn't stop talking about him some days. She knew how much you cared about him. Her eyes softened, watching as you stood there with a proud smile on your face. Your excitement radiates through the air around you.

"Well," She let out a sigh, "I'm happy for you two. He knows to bring you back at ten, right?" She asked and you nodded, the anxiety you were once feeling dissipating to a point that you were able to speak without feeling your words trip on the tip of your tongue. "Alright, then," She paused, thinking over what she wanted to say next, "Be safe on the way home, yeah?" Her voice came out almost teasing and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, people also drive at night. I don’t want you to get run over - and no funny business.” She added, shaking a finger at you half-jokingly.

"I’ll be fine, Mom," You said bashfully, "And we’re just friends.”

Your mother just stared at you, giving you an all-knowing look, "Really? Friends don't ask each other to Prom." She spoke and you just let out a small chuckle.

"Actually, they do, Mom," You corrected, only to see that she was just playing with you, making you let out a sigh of your own, "He'll be here soon, I should-"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted you, and your mother couldn't help but smile before pulling you into a hug. "I'll see you soon. You two have fun."

You nodded before you headed down the stairs and to the door. Letting out a shaky breath, you felt your nerves bubble as you reached out for the doorknob. Taking another deep breath, you opened the door and saw Stoney waiting for you at the door. You were sure your heart skipped several beats seeing him. He looked like his perfect usual self, dressed in flared pants, a fancy button-up over a white shirt, and a purple scarf. You felt a bit overdressed, but that didn't seem to matter to Stoney cause once he saw you, his jaw dropped. You just smiled, feeling your cheeks warm up as Stoney ran his gaze up and down your form.

"Woah," He breathed out quietly and you chuckled, "You look gorgeous, babe." He spoke sincerely and you blushed at his compliment, you almost thought he'd wolf howl at you like he did most of the time at school but tonight seemed different.

"You look great too, Stone." You answered, noticing that Stoney had a hand behind his back. Raising an eyebrow, you spoke again, “You hidin’ something, Stone?” You asked, watching as his eyes lit up in realization and he brought his arm out to reveal the small bouquet of what looked like wildflowers.

“Oh! These are for you,” He answered, offering the small bouquet out to you as you couldn’t help but let your smile widen. 

You took the flowers in your hands, pretending not to have noticed when your fingers brushed against his, “These are beautiful, Stoney.” Your smile then turned into a small smirk as you gave Stoney a look, “Did you get these from Mrs. Freadrick's yard?” You asked, referring to the sweet old lady who lived just down the road from Stoney's house.

Stoney let go of the breath he'd been holding, smiling sheepishly as he nodded, "Uh, yeah."

You only shook your head, letting out a small laugh, “Well, thank you nonetheless, Stone.” Stoney gave you a toothy smile, which made your heart race as you let out a sigh. “I’ll quickly put these in some water.” You added, rushing inside to find a vase. Stoney looked around the entrance of the home, taking note of the pictures hung in nice frames around the room. He hummed some sort of tune as he looked around, his eyes then landing on you as you exited the kitchen. “Alright, let’s head out. Don’t want to miss any of the good songs.” You joked, grabbing your small bag from the table near the door.

“Alright! Party time!” Stoney cheered, making you laugh as you headed back to the door with him. Turning at the door, Stoney raised a hand to the side of his mouth, “Have a good night, Mrs. L/N!” He called out to your mom, making you grab him arm and pull him out of the house.

Closing the front door behind the two of you as you stepped out. “You’re killing me, Stoney.” You looked up at him with a smile, as Stoney offered you his arm and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Stoney only looked down at you, wiggling his eyebrows, “Softly, I hope.”

~~~

The beginning of the walk was nice, quiet, and peaceful; you really enjoyed it. "I hope you're not cold," Stoney then spoke up, gaining your attention. "I'd offer my shirt," He gestured to the button-up with his free hand, looking down at you to gauge your reaction only for you to shake your head.

"I'm good, but thank you, Stoney." You replied, glancing up at him with a smile.

Stoney couldn't help but smile back, "If you say so, babe. Just know the offer is always on the table, ahh-wooooooo!" Okay, there was the Stoney you knew and loved. You couldn't stop the laughter bubbling inside of you, as you tried to stifle it, which resulted in Stoney chuckling along as well, his smile widening before he spoke up once more, "Do you think they'll have the four basic food groups?" He asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

"Maybe, I don't think they'll have burritos or Milk Duds there though," You commented and Stoney let out a hum, nodding his head slowly, "But they'll probably have punch," You suggested, looking up at Stoney who was staring at you, "What?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly to the side as you waited for his answer.

Stoney shook his head slightly, tsking, "That's not part of the four basic food groups, babe," He answered before throwing a hand in the air abruptly, "But! We're going to wheeze the jiu-ce after this fiasco, so I can reteach you then." He trailed off, right as you got to the school.

~~~

Though the gym was dark, colorful lights made it possible to see as the music from the band played loud enough for it to fill your ears. You held onto Stoney, tightening your hold on his arm as you entered, feeling anxious once more. But, Stoney was quick to distract you, steering you right over to the hopefully not spiked punch bowl. As you took sips of your punch, your eyes landed on Dave, Link, and Robyn, already dancing on the dance floor. You watched Link boogie down and turned to Stoney, watching as he bobbed his head to the beat and shimmied a bit in his spot; his eyes narrowed in on the dancefloor. 

You knew he wanted to go over there, have a good time and you didn't want to stop him. Finishing your drink, you began to feel more and more comfortable before turning back to Stoney. "Hey, you can go and dance. I'll be alright here." You spoke, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. 

Stoney looked at you, eyebrows raised as he glanced over to the dance floor and back at you, uncertainly, "Are you sure, babe? Don't want to leave you hanging."

Your brows furrowed as you shook your head, "Don't worry about it. Go and have some fun, you deserve it. And besides," You added when you noticed Stoney's worried expression, raising your hand to let your fingers gently brush his cheek, brushing back some curls, "You can save the slow dance for me." You teased, causing Stoney to chuckle lightly, and you found yourself smiling, glad you had put a small bit of levity back into things.

"Thanks," Stoney muttered as he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment, "See ya later, ba-be." He trailed off, almost song-like before he then slid into the dance circle, masterfully joining Link in his dance.

You watched with a fond smile, unable to take your eyes off him as he helped Dave and Link lead the dance mob. You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing a little irregular, as you watched him sway with the crowd, dancing with ease as if he belonged there. You felt your stomach grow tight, and your mouth growing dry as your gaze lingered on his strong, lean build. Your eyes followed every move he made as he moved gracefully across the floor. Yeah, you were definitely in love with Stoney. It was impossible not to be.

Before you knew it, the band finished their song, and another fun song came on. Robyn noticed you on the sidelines and dragged you in, swinging hers and your arms together to the beat. You did your best to let go and have fun, letting the music flow through you. Another three songs followed before finally the slow song echoed throughout the speakers; one that you recognized. Other students and their dates found each other on the dance floor, arms around waists and necks as they swayed. You looked around the gym, unable to spot Stoney at all until you felt someone tap your shoulder. Turning, you almost sighed with relief as Stoney gave you his charming grin, offering out his hand to you.

"I believe I owe you a dance," He spoke and you took his hand without question as you both walked towards the dance floor. His hand fit perfectly in yours and you couldn't help but feel a tingle run down your spine at his warm touch. 

On the dance floor, Stoney slowly placed his hands respectably on your waist, your arms going and wrapping around his neck; following the other couples' movements. As the song continued, Stoney's moves became a lot smoother; it wasn't long before he was leading you in small circles. The song, a favorite of yours, 'Crazy For You' by Madonna played, making you smile lightly, your fingers moving with a mind of their own to twist into Stoney’s curls. You felt Stoney's thumbs gently brushing over your waist, soothing you yet also leaving goosebumps in their place, and allowing yourself to take a small step closer to the weasel.

Looking into his eyes, you realized he was looking straight at you, a light flush dusting his cheeks as his thumb still softly brushed over the fabric of your attire; the warmth of his hands seeping into you. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if you couldn't think properly, trying to focus on the beat of the song and the slight sway Stoney was doing. But all you could think about was him, and how he made you feel safe, cared for… Loved. How he could calm you down and even make you flush just by being near. As you kept on dancing, you couldn’t help but look at the beautiful man in front of you. Your eyes drifted over his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the small smile that played on his lips.

Stoney felt like he was dreaming, watching you dance with him made his heart race. You were so beautiful that it hurt, you were the definition of perfection; everything else fell away and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. Your smile was infectious, your laugh was melodic, and your eyes held his future. Even your fingers in his hair were hypnotic. There wasn't anything he wanted more than to spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

At the height of the music, even though it was still a slow song, Stoney abruptly twirled you out; surprising you and earning a giggle from you as you spun around. Once you came back to his side, he continued to surprise you as he dipped you low before slowly bringing you back up. You let out a breath, your chest heaving slightly as you stared up at Stoney with a smile. He did the same, reaching out with his hand to brush away a couple of stray hairs before he cupped your cheek.

You leaned into his palm and he leaned toward you, your lips nearly touching before your noses bumped together instead. The contact sent shivers down your spine, making your body temperature rise slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips ghost over yours; moving against yours with such care and delicacy that you forgot all of the noise around you, only focused on Stoney and you. When he pulled away, your eyes opened slowly; fluttering. The corner of your lips turned upwards at the emotion in Stoney’s eyes, holding so much admiration and warmth. A flush crept its way onto your face as you continued to gaze into his chocolate-colored eyes; they were shining bright as they bore into your own.

Suddenly, he tilted his head back, letting out another wolf howl, immediately making you laugh; covering your mouth with your hand. Stoney looked back down at you, admiring how happy you looked, eyes closed and a huge smile on your face. The colorful lights hit you gracefully, casting soft shadows and highlighting your features perfectly; painting you in pinks, blues, and yellow. As if in slow-motion, he watched as you opened your eyes, calming down from your laughter; Stoney wondered if this was what love felt like. 

He grinned back at you, giving you a playful wink before he rested his forehead against yours. "Let's get outta here, yeah?" Stoney mumbled, and you gave him a nod in response; not trusting your voice. Taking your hand, waved goodbye to Dave, Link, and Robyn before leaving the gym and the school entirely to get your slushie.

[halcyon-days-no-more]

Gargoyle Transformation, Tate “Stoney” McKee

[christinesficrecs]

Hello! I've been reading a lot of the fics you rec. I was wondering if you have any more fics that are like or are similar to Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt on a03? That's my favorite fanfic and would greatly appreciate it, please and thank you!

Waiting is completely brilliant!! It deserves to be your favorite. ❤️ Here are a few more feral/full wolf Derek fics that I love.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 81K

Not wanting to think on it took much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

The One With The Scottish Wolf Lord by Stoney | 11.7K | Explicit

The Hales are alive and a royal family in Scotland; Stiles is the waif sent to work in the kitchens, elevated to personal attendant/servant to the young Lord Hale. Who happens to be a wolf who can’t shift back. 

The Wolf in the Tower by  exclamation | 57K

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles’ skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he’s even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There’s something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can’t help wondering if magic might be involved.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by  entanglednow | 25.9K

He has no idea what you’re supposed to say when you find one of your…werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they’re about to see what your insides taste like. There’s no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy | 17.7K | Mature

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation’s sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he’s the Sheriff’s son so those are the breaks. What he doesn’t expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.  

Fully Grown by thedaughterofkings | 36K

Stumbling across a wolf in the preserve is not what Stiles expects when he goes for a run the last night before school starts again. But even if the wolf acts more intelligent than a mere animal, he can’t have anything to do with Stiles’ unusual soulmark, four vicious scratches down his forearm, can he?

And what is Kate Argent doing back in Beacon Hills for the first time since the Hale Fire?

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach | 76.9K

“Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf.” An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica | 124.5K

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he’s accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles’s baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Don’t Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8 | 30.3K

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he’s got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

I’ll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K | Explicit

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) | 109K | Explicit

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

[cowboygenesis]

3: of thunderstorms | geralt x reader

part 3 of the "wild woman" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: nudity, smut, solo male masturbation.

word count: 11.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: if youre still reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me :) I've been finding a lot of joy in writing this fanfic despite the format being a little iffy for a reader insert (something i realized only 10k words into the fanfic har har). as usual, please leave feedback if you feel so inclined!

Geralt glanced into the greying sky, a sharp look on his resolute face as the light seeped through the sparse cracks of the stoney backdrop; a gentle reminder of the afternoon had begun to cascade down Geralt’s complexion just in time for their arrival in the town’s square.

Despite the upcoming downpour, the city streets kept flooding with life, crowds of people vigorously walking in and out of the center equipped with groceries, home supplies, and various homemade goods for sale.

Geralt watched as an elderly couple struggled to push the weight of a wheelbarrow filled with bags of groats, the husband’s solemn face contrasting his partner’s warm grin. She slapped his shoulder playfully, earning a hiss of annoyance.

“Stop! Come back!” came the cheerful giggle of a young girl, and the witcher stiffened as a group of children ran past his side, with one of the smaller boys bumping into the man’s muscular thigh.

The boy’s gaze rose, bright eyes meeting Geralt’s sharp stare. The few seconds between them must’ve felt like an eternity to the boy, or so the witcher thought. He was all too aware of his uncommon visage and expected most people, especially children, to react similarly to such a close and uncomfortable encounter.

His eyebrow raised suddenly as the child’s lips curled into a goofy, unapologetic grin. He giggled, tiny hands moving to push his body off Geralt’s armored limb, the force making his little body accelerate at speeds likely to make him eat dirt, and with the subtlest misstep, he almost did alright.

The boy dove through the crowd, and soon enough Geralt caught a glimpse of his blonde hair amongst his group of friends who engaged in a tug-of-war over a sewn, stuffed rag vaguely resembling a sheep. A soft giggle came from the saddle.

The witcher’s gaze flickered over his shoulder, catching a quick glimpse of the young woman riding his mare.

Her bare hands were raised and clasped above her head in an attempt to shield her face from the quickly accelerating downpour, a few drops cascading slowly down her elbow and soaking into the bouffant sleeve of her dress.

She was smiling; a warm, heartfelt smile that extended to her eyes and made her cheeks crease with dimples. Her gaze followed the small group of kids, decently amused at the brief ordeal. Her eyes shifted to Geralt.

Their gazes met, and she giggled again as if the awareness of Geralt’s sudden, reciprocated stare didn’t intimidate her in the slightest.

Her hand dropped to pet Roach’s mane, weaving her fingers through the thick strands and allowing her lips to form into a comfortable smile. She was enjoying their escapade, and it made Geralt wonder if riding a horse was that joyous of activity for common folk like her. But perhaps her smile was about something else entirely. He forced his gaze away.

“We’re almost there, turn right by that fencing,” the woman instructed through her everlasting smile, her right hand abandoning its post on the mare’s head to extend a finger towards the open plaza. Geralt hummed in understanding, relieved as the tight squeeze of the side street finally flooded into a much more spacious and comfortable area.

It was the beginning of harvest, and as his new companion had informed him on their way to town, an extensive market would be held in the square every day until the end of the moon cycle. ‘The sowing has been so bountiful the past few years, people struggle to sell their goods before they go bad,’ she had stated. Geralt wondered where all the acquired coin had been going, considering how modest the townsfolk looked.

Surely enough, the plaza had been set up into a miniature marketplace with an array of stick-and-cloth stalls lined up in two rows. Albeit far, Geralt could spot an array of different produce filling the wooden crates of around a dozen merchants, making the area almost unrecognizable from the state he had first seen it in the night prior.

The group made their way across the pavement, Geralt giving Roach’s reigns a gentle pull as they approached a cobblestone building nestled between a blacksmith and a general goods store.

A simple, wooden sign adorned the oaken doorway, rugged and chipped at the corners yet adorning a meticulous engraving:

‘The Novak’s Family Apothecary’.

The letters were uniform and bold, proudly advertising a decade-old familial business to the people of Posada and the neighboring towns. Below, in a smaller font: ‘Alchemy and Herbalism’. Strangely, ‘Alchemy’ had been viciously scratched off the slab, leaving a large gash in the otherwise polished surface.

“We’re here,” Maja stated, legs swinging back and forth along Roach’s sides as the group made their way through the insula’s archway. The narrow path led into an isolated square, much less populated compared to the center and harboring what looked to be communal living quarters.

Geralt trailed his gaze along the decrepit buildings and rain-slicked stone below his feet, then turned to pat Roach’s muzzle. He watched his companion shuffle around on the horse’s back, her skirt twisting and turning with the rapid movements and absorbing the increasing downpour that manifested in the form of small, dark spots scattered across the bright material. She grunted with a furrowed brow, struggling to find a proper angle to get down safely.

“Here,” Geralt hummed, reaching his arms to rest at the familiar spots on her dressed waist. She tensed her muscles at the touch, flexing under the soft corset and making the man readjust his grip. A thumb grazed gently along the material and the girl’s eyes shone with surprise, but the lack of resistance urged the witcher to continue his rescue.

“Thank you,” she replied tactfully as Geralt effortlessly rose her into the air then safely to the ground. Her boots made contact with the slick stone with a squeak, her hips and legs twisting around to adjust to standing.

“Gods… that was amazing. I haven’t ridden a horse in so, so long,” Maja exclaimed with a grin, carefully placing her hand on the horse’s muzzle. Geralt nodded, following in tandem with her movements. His gloved fingers significantly dwarfed hers at this proximity, and he noted the pulled, reddened skin around her fingernails as she patted Roach’s cheek. The mare whinnied softly, pushing into the girl’s grasp. “She’s such a good girl.”

“She likes you,” Geralt stated lowly, watching as his horse made gentle acquaintance with his new companion. The woman chuckled at the contact, amping up her pats and scratches.

“I like her, too.” She responded, glancing at Geralt’s face. Despite popular myth, witcher’s didn’t seem so frightening up close. If anything, Maja had grown to enjoy the tiny, obscure hints of smiles and chuckles that felt like such a rarity with the caliber of man Geralt happened to be. That moment was no exception, as her eyes trailed down to the man’s subtly raised mouth corners. It was a shadow of joy, and not so pretty, yet somehow the concept itself made the woman feel warm despite the accelerating downpour.

They were soon to be soaked. The minuscule, lightweight droplets had suddenly evolved into weighted beads, pattering aggressively against the metal gutters and forming reflective puddles in uneven areas of the pavement.

“We best get inside,” the man gruffed out, tugging at the hood of his linen cloak. He glanced at Maja, watching her hair dampen with the rain. He could have sworn he saw her shiver. “You go ahead, I’ll hitch the horse.” he nodded at her, reaching to grab the reigns.

“Allow me,” the woman retorted with a small smile, quickly wrapping her nimble fingers around the leather straps. Geralt watched with a raised eyebrow as clear droplets began trickling down her forehead and falling off the thick bedding of her upper lashes.

“I need to stop by that shop for a moment,” she perked up, extending a finger towards one of the doorways deeper into the square. The light from within was dim and flickered occasionally. Her head turned to face Geralt again, and he raised an eyebrow at her solemn smile as her fingers grazed the horse’s mane. “Besides, I… I haven’t done this in a long time. You know, cared for a horse. Just want to savor it while I can.” she ended sheepishly, glancing at her rain-slicked boots.

Geralt’s eyebrows raised subtly, his gaze scanning the girl’s lowered face. He hadn’t considered that such a simple, inherent part of his life would bring such pleasure to someone else. He had ridden horses all his life, so much so that it had become synonymous with walking. Alas, it wasn’t something he could be opposed to. The quicker he managed his interrogation, the quicker he could solve this town’s monster problem and trail ahead.

“Hitch her between the arches over there,” Geralt pointed toward the courtyard’s edge, simultaneously nodding at the girl’s request. She grinned in return.

“Oh! If it’s no issue, could you get me a bunch each of verbena and sage? Oh, and arrowroot. Big ones,” the girl perked up suddenly, raising a hand in question.

Geralt sighed, but before he could put his foot down, Maja had taken a step towards him. Her hand edged towards his sternum, gently pressing against his chest piece while her bright eyes made contact with his half-lidded ones. “Just mention my name. Miro’ll put it on my tab.” she smiled cheekily.

Geralt nodded once, maintaining eye contact to search her orbs for something hidden. The dark pools drew him in like a spell, refusing to let go.

Her grasp tightened on the reigns suddenly, and with a final chuckle and wave, she walked away. Her silhouette shrunk in the distance, and Geralt exhaled sharply at the faint sound of the girl’s one-sided conversation with Roach that morphed with the heavy patter of rain.

His feet carried him towards the front of the building once again. His hood had started feeling heavy with the weight of rainwater soaking into it, so the warm air hitting his face was a welcome feeling as soon as he creaked open the large, ornamental doorway to the alchemist shop.

He breathed in and looked around. It looked common, simple, exactly as every other shop of this kind he had seen in his extensive career. The wooden walls were lined with thin shelves and cupboards, each housing a handsome collection of vials, chalices, and corked bottles.

The witcher traced a hand along one of the larger vials, feeling along its decorative rivets. A thin paper card attached to the cork read ‘oil of parsnip’. He picked it up and swirled, the viscous, yellow liquid inside sloshing around with a soft gurgle.

“Oh, welcome! Come on in,” spoke a raspy, melodic voice, making Geralt look towards its source.

A tall, middle-aged man stood at the edge of the room, leaning against a wooden desk. His dark, curly locks stood taut in every direction, intertwined with thick threads of silver. The bump of his thin nose held the weight of circular rims through which the witcher could glimpse a hue of bright green.

“Quite the downpour, ain’t it?” he chuckled warmly as Geralt approached, fingers tugging at his hood to pull it back. The man was amiable, even after seeing the witcher’s white locks and wolf-head insignia.

“Quite,” Geralt retorted sternly, eyeing the thick, sheepskin ledger pinned under the alchemist’s hand. “Busy?”

“Oh, but not at all. This’s just that awful bureaucracy, y’know? They’re making me list my income every other moon. You probably know somethin’ about that, right?” the man panned a quill in the air, pointing it steadily down Geralt’s figure. “You seem like a kind of businessman yourself!”

“That’s one way to call it,” Geralt tilted his head with a hum, placing a gloved hand on the til’s rough surface. He leaned in, avoiding the bundles of dried lavender and white sage drying upside down on the ceiling. “But bartering is the best I can do if we’re talking business.”

The older man chuckled, clearly entertained by the witcher’s dry riposte. He shoved the journal to the side and straightened his posture as if he had just realized the situation.

“Tell me then, friendly barterer, what herbs do you seek? I’ve got everything, from plane ole’ mint to the rare white myrtle. Oils a plenty, too.” he advertised enthusiastically, gesturing towards the vials.

Geralt glanced at the shelves behind him, then turned his attention back to the seller. He approached the closest one and hovered his extended hand over the selection. Swiftly, he plucked out a small, smooth bottle. He swirled the yellow-green liquid inside.

“And these? Are they potions?” he questioned before watching the man’s eyes widen, mouth ajar slightly.

“No, ‘course not! No! We don’t sell potions here, only herbs and herbal oils. Ointments, that sorta’ of thing.” he protested, gleeful exterior suddenly deteriorating.

Geralt stood silent for a beat, eyeing the older man’s sweat-slick forehead and cheeks. The droplets thickened at his temples and slipped between the crevices of his wrinkles.

“I see,” the witcher finally spoke, nodding. The shopkeep seemed to drop his shoulders and sigh at his amicable response. “Are you Miro?”

“Miro. Miroslav. Yes, that’s me,” he replied quickly, the shadow of a smile returning to his lips. “How so?”

“Do you know a man by the name of Sylvanus?” Geralt questioned tactfully, leaning against the wall. “I’ve been told he supplies here. I need to know what he purchased this morning.”

“Ah… Sylvanus. Yes, yes. He’s a regular customer, has been since he arrived. A little off-beat that one, but intelligent, and good with herbs. Very, very knowledgeable in that area, yes, and always so polite! Secretive, too, but you know how those types can be, right?” Miroslav began cheerfully, yet straightened his demeanour once prompted to answer the witcher’s question. “But I’m afraid I can’t reveal the contents of my ledger, good sire. Maintaining the privacy of my clients is something our shop values greatly, really. And who might you be, anyway?”

Geralt placed the glass bottle down in front of the clerk and looked up at him with a nasty smile, the wolf-head amulet glistening in the gentle candlelight.

“Geralt. Geralt of Rivia. I’m here to investigate the suspicious activity happening in these woods, and I’ve gotten intel about a suspect visiting your alchemy shop. He’s a witch hunter. I have reason to believe he might be concocting something malicious with the ingredients acquired from you.”

Miroslav straightened up, lips formed into a tight line. There was a palpable tension that filled the air at that moment, one that caused a quiet ringing to echo inside the witcher’s sensitive ears. The rain pattered harshly against the window and roof, making Geralt wonder how Roach and his companion were faring.

“It… It could be true. But why? What would such a sophisticated, traveling folk like him gain from such a silly heist? People are dying from the beast, that beastie from the woods is what’s killing all my neighbors. Mr. Geralt, why? Why would Sylvanus do such a thing?” Miroslav harped, becoming increasingly distressed.

The instance of potentially being involved in something as serious as what Geralt was expecting was weighing on his psyche, as it would on most people. This guy simply wasn’t afraid to show the effects of it.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If you showed me your ledger, I might be able to help this town, other people in the future, from meeting the same fate,” the witcher hummed, placing a firm hand against the wooden till. “It’ll only take a minute of your time.”

Miroslav sighed, nervously eyeing the leather-bound book tucked safely behind a pile of similarly coloured journals. His fingers traced the former’s spine, shakily taking it out and dropping its full weight in front of Geralt. The witcher nodded approvingly, extending his gloved hand in reach of the cover.

Suddenly, a dainty, wrinkled hand slammed onto his. Geralt’s gaze rose, eyes meeting the clerk’s wide ones. His pupils were the size of pinpoints, cheeks rosy and sleek with sweat.

“Don’t tell the Baron about this. Please. I beg you don’t,” Miroslav whispered shakily, and Geralt hummed in return. “I know we can’t practice it. I know we can’t, and yet it’s in our nature. There are so many folks out here in desperate need of these potions, and me, my family, I just can’t let myself leave all of this behind just because of… one, God-forsaken incident!”

A heavy silence befell the old shop. The creaking of floorboards echoed into nothingness, interrupted by a distant roar of thunder. Geralt sighed.

“What incident?” he questioned, taking a confident step forward. He could sense Miroslav’s body tense at the gesture, yet he persevered with his tactics.

The older man shivered and gulped down thickly, making his Adam’s apple bob. Geralt watched intently, placing an unassuming hand over his belt.

“An implosion. Somethin’ completely otherworldly,” the shopkeep explained nervously, fiddling with his journal, “It happened maybe two decades ago, on a spring evening like today. It was like a shockwave, radiating from within a single home, not far from here. I was in the market then, and when that force hit me I must’ve flown at least a perch into the air, I swear on the Gods! The Baron ordered a search of the home and later told us townsfolk it was a simple alchemical miscalculation. Falkrov they were called, I think… a sweet, young couple with a great talent for magic. The same magic that ended up taking their lives that very night.”

“They passed?” Geralt questioned without a beat.

Miroslav frowned.

“Yes. The explosion was simply too powerful,” he heaved, “And that was it. I knew the Falkrov's, not too well, but things were amicable… they were a kind bunch, and helpful, too. But too curious. Too volatile.”

Geralt listened, nodding tactfully and urging the man to keep telling the story.

“Magic was no secret in our parts, quite the opposite, witcher. This land is a powerful energetical pulse point, harboring some kind of ancient magic for centuries before our people even thought to inhabit it. When I was a little boy, my mother would tell me stories of lights and voices coming from the nearby woods, creeping shadows, and chants of witches. It’s true, that’s what she would tell me. And I saw it too, that I did! Creatures from beyond this realm!”

“What did they look like?” Geralt interrupted promptly.

“Little faeries. Or pixies, maybe, I’m not so good with the names, you know. Glittering little beasts with wings. Some sort of gnomes, too, or… a little boy with large eyes, what do you call ‘em…”

“A Godling?”

“Well… sure. A Godling, yes. A young boy skimming stones over a pond. It was long ago when I saw him, at least three decades it must’ve been… we don’t go in the woods anymore, my wife and I. Folks say that’s where the Falkrov’s met their ill fate, and so they’ve haunted that soil ever since,” Miroslav continued somberly, “Nothing’s been the same since that day, Mr. Geralt. And recently, something has changed again. The woods aren’t safe no more, not even in the daytime.”

Geralt nodded, arms crossed as he watched the shopkeep open his journal. He licked his thumb and skimmed the yellowed pages fervently, humming something under his breath. Finally, he stopped. His eyes narrowed, landing a finger against a uniformly drawn table and sliding it down the page.

“I’ve lost hope for this town long ago, Mr. Geralt, but Sylvanus has managed to spark it back up again. He’s a brave man, bold. Goes into those woods on his own and makes sure they’re safe before any of our own folk head out themselves, and at the end of the day refuses our coin. It’s not something any ordinary man would do.”

“I know,” Geralt replied dryly, grabbing at the open journal and twisting it around to face him. The shopkeep’s handwriting was sloppy and thick, drilled forcefully into the pages below. “I plan on finding out what motivates him.”

Miroslav nodded apprehensively, hands crossing loosely against his chest as he watched the witcher get to work. Geralt scanned down the page, skimming through about a dozen names before finally reaching a familiar one.

“Nightshade and mandrake root,” Geralt spoke quietly, eyes narrowing at the chicken-scratch text. “Not a common purchase. Did he mention anything about these ingredients? What he was going to use them for?”

“No… not at all. I never question my clients’ choices, I feel it is against company policy to butt in like that. It’s none of my business, Mr. Geralt, sir.” Miroslav replied with a shrug, making the witcher sigh apprehensively at his nonchalance.

Within his mental compendium of herbology, Geralt searched for the two ingredients Sylvanus had purchased. Both were powerful, potent herbs used in ritual rites and deadly potions, something that a well-meaning passerby would never resort to purchasing; unless there was more to it than met the eye.

“Alright. Thank you, Miroslav,” Geralt nodded, closing the ledger with a quick slam. He watched as the shopkeeper nodded nervously, looking down at his shoes. His hands moved fervently at his sides, and before long he had withdrawn the book into a nearby drawer.

“Please… don’t do anything rash. I can vouch for Sylvanus, that I can. Perhaps I shouldn’t have revealed this information to you…” he spoke softly, eyes glassy with tears.

Geralt sighed once more, crossing his arms. "I won't act hastily," he assured Miroslav, though his tone carried an edge that made the shopkeeper swallow hard.

Miroslav nodded, looking relieved yet still anxious. "Thank you… thank you. I hope you find the answers you're looking for."

“I’ll take a bundle each of sage, verbena, and arrowroot. It’s for—” Geralt began.

“For Maja?” Miroslav interrupted promptly, perking up with a bright glint in his eye. He cleared his throat once becoming aware of his own enticement, mellowing down promptly. “Yes… yes, alright. You know each other, then? You and her?”

“She offered me information about the disturbances in this town.” the witcher replied promptly, slightly taken aback at the question.

Miroslav nodded with a smile, gaze boring into Geralt’s eyes. He lingered in that position for a while, before finally shuffling around the table to reach a large shelf near the ceiling. He hopped in place a few times, grunting as he attempted to reach the herbs resting atop the plank with a comical fervor.

Geralt rolled his eyes subtly, turning around and taking a long stride toward the struggling man.

“No, no! I got it!” he wailed suddenly, pushing Geralt away with his lanky hand. The witcher grunted at the unexpected strength, instead opting to stay back and watch the show from afar.

Finally, with one last jump, the older man managed to grab at the bundle of herbs and pull them down with a triumphant grin. “Here they are,” he said cheerfully, handing them over to Geralt. “I’ll put these on Maja’s tab.”

Suddenly, just as the witcher placed his hands against the thick bundle, he felt Miroslav’s nimble fingers grab at his wrists. He held on tight, almost uncomfortably so, holding Geralt’s gaze adamantly. “She… just, please stay diligent out there.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, noting the earnest concern in the alchemist’s eyes. “Appreciate it. Take care, Miroslav.”

The shopkeeper nodded in agreement, finally letting go of the witcher’s wrist. He felt the blood pulse back into his digits, opening and closing his fist at the numbness. He turned towards the door, opening the door and marching through unceremoniously.

“Take care, Geralt.” he heard Miroslav call out as the doors behind him closed with a loud thud.

As he stepped outside, he noticed the storm had grown fiercer. Rain lashed the streets and thunder boomed overhead, bright lights striking amongst the darkening clouds.

“Winds howling,” he muttered under his nose, feeling a harsh breeze brush against his cheeks as he opened his pouch. He sighed as he caught a whiff of the sage, tucking it away safely before taking a moment to enjoy the aroma.

“Geralt!” rang soundly in his ears, the familiar voice now strained and desperate. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. His peripheral caught a glimpse of something dark, a speckled form dashing right past his side. The adrenaline within his veins pulsed fervently and he scanned his surroundings for red. The witcher’s hand reached instinctively for his sword, yet stopped short when he recognized the creature dashing between the citizens.

It was the deer he had hunted earlier; alive and bounding through the rain-soaked streets, white tail bouncing with its agile strides. The townsfolk scattered promptly at the disturbance, yelling, gasping, and pointing as the animal sped past them, its hooves clattering against the cobblestones. His eyes grazed past the familiar patch of dried blood staining the animal’s white belly, centering around a deep gash.

Geralt's brow furrowed, body tense as his wolf-head medallion vibrated soundly against his chest. His ears rang as he brought his hand up, feeling the reverberating within his fingertips and frowning softly. It felt incomprehensible.

His mind raced as the deer flew past fearful townsfolk, bouncing off stalls and getting its soft fur soaked the few times it tripped over its hooves. It darted towards the edge of town, finally disappearing amongst the buildings.

He stayed put, letting the sword slide back into its hilt with a soft slash. Instinctively, his head turned, glancing into the courtyard and catching a familiar glimpse of a white apron.

He found Maja running towards him, face pale and eyes wide as she approached. She looked as shocked as the rest of the townsfolk, but there was something in her expression that Geralt couldn't quite place; a certain glint in her eye that he hadn’t witnessed in a long while.

"Maja," he called out sternly, in a panic, striding over to her. "The deer—"

"It’s alive," she interrupted, her voice trembling slightly as her hands motioned frantically in every direction. "It… it came alive. Just like that. I was leaving the shop, I just wanted to check on Roach, I wasn’t looking and—"

“What happened?” Geralt demanded, grabbing at her shoulders and keeping her from flailing. Her skin was soft to the touch and slick with rain. He squeezed gently, finding himself momentarily entranced by the proximity. He studied her closely, breathing deep and contrasting her small, shallow bellowings in an oddly pleasant symphony.

“I…” she began softly, gaze finally meeting his. Her eyes were wide with bewilderment and her pupils dark like pools of ink as she reached toward him. Her hand linked with his, holding firmly onto his tense forearm and mimicking the squeeze. It felt comforting, and Geralt found himself overcome with a sudden, inexplicable wave of ecstasy at the gentle pressure. “She came alive. The doe came alive.”

The rain continued to pour around them, the world fading into a blur as Geralt's focus zeroed in on Maja. Her lips parted slightly, and he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his. The proximity, the intensity of the moment, it all surged through him like a shot of adrenaline. Something about it felt strange, almost unnatural.

“Maja…” he started, his voice low and rough. Her name felt like a prayer on his tongue, an invocation of something deep and ancient. He could see the confusion and fear in her eyes, but there was something else there too—something that mirrored the turmoil within him.

Their breaths mingled, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still once again. Geralt’s gloved thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of rain. Her skin was soft beneath his touch, and he found himself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“We need to get out of here,” he added, sternly this time.

She nodded, her hand tightening around his forearm. The connection between them was palpable, a current of unspoken understanding and shared resolve that felt like an inexplicable spell; ecstatic, but otherwordly. He withdrew with a grunt, attempting to shake the strange feeling off.

Without another word, Geralt shrugged off his thick cloak and draped it over the woman’s shoulders, the heavy fabric cascading softly down her frame. The woman looked up at him, gratitude flickering in her eyes as she raised the hood over her head.

“Let’s go,” he urged, gently guiding her towards Roach. He undid the skillful fastening of the reigns against the pole and trailed ahead, feeling the woman’s presence just beside him.

The rain pounded down on them feverishly as they walked through the storm. Most of the crowd had dispersed by now, except an unlucky few stuck fixing the cracked stalls resulting from the sudden ambush from before, grunting as their hair became damp with the downpour.

Geralt remained silent in this voyage, his thoughts a whirlwind of the strange events as they crossed the plaza and made their way towards the tavern, thunder roaring wildly above them. In those moments, he could feel his companion’s body draw momentarily closer to him, her hands grazing unsurely at his side.

As they approached the tavern's entrance, Geralt adjusted his grip on the reigns. He turned towards Maja and issued a small, polite bow. “Thank you for the lead. I’ll make sure to take care of your… monster problem. Farewell.”

The woman curtsied back with a smile, yet it quickly shifted into a solemn, anticipating expression. The corners of her mouth turned downwards as she leaned in to grab his hand with two of her own. The contact made Geralt flinch, eyes narrowing instinctively at the touch.

“I’d like you to stay,” she began assertively, eyes shining with determination as she sandwiched the witcher’s gloved hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Her nimble hands felt strangely sturdy around his fingers. “Please, Geralt. You’ve shown me more kindness than I had ever expected, so it’s only right for me to return the favor. Come in, take a bath. Get warm. I’ll make us supper, if you like.”

Geralt studied her face, weighing her rare sincerity against his instinct to keep moving. Staying in one place always brought complications.

The rain was relentless, soaking them both to the bone, and the warmth of the tavern seemed increasingly appealing. The thought of a hot meal and a bath felt like a rare luxury nowadays.

“Alright,” he said finally, nodding.

Maja smiled, quickly getting to work and hitching Roach to the familiar wooden post. Geralt watched silently, noting the agility and apparent experience in her motions.

Once finished, she grabbed his arm again, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Come on, then! You smell like a wet mutt!” she said, yet her tone bared no hint of malice or teasing.

Geralt chuckled at the remark, the comfortable warmth of the tavern seeping into his bones as they finally stepped inside. The door behind them closed with a loud thud, drowned out by the music and chatter inside. “That’s no way to treat a guest,” he replied curtly.

“A very apprehensive guest,” she muttered, pulling him inside. The tavern’s interior was bustling with activity as usual for this time of day, patrons singing and laughing, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and ale. The bard currently performing seemed to be the same flaxen-haired woman as the day before, this time dressed in an intricate suit of purple and green.

“Maja! Our Majeczka!” came a voice from their left, making Geralt’s gaze drop to the stout, bearded man sitting amongst a crowd of similarly dressed patrons.

“Evening, everyone. Martijn, Jannick,” Maja replied cheerfully, giving the group a polite nod. “Just passing through.”

One of the guests sitting at the table, a tall man with a scarred face, leaned forward, leering at her. “Got yourself a new man, have you, girl? Bet you forgot all about us!” he teased, earning a round of guttural laughter from his friends.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed apprehensively, but Maja merely smiled, placing a hand on the scarred man’s shoulder. “Just a guest,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “Be nice, guys.”

Another man, younger and with a head full of unkempt hair, snorted. “Don’t see many witchers around here. Hope he’s not here to cause trouble.”

“Only if trouble finds me first,” Geralt replied calmly, his voice carrying a warning, subtext-filled tone that seemed to quiet the group down momentarily.

“Trouble, eh?” Martijn chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just keep your trouble away from our drinks, witcher. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Jannick, the scarred man, leaned back in his chair, still eyeing Maja. “You sure you’re just passing through, Majeczka? We’ve missed having you around. Thought maybe you’d be staying a bit longer this time, you know. Keep us company a while.”

Maja’s smile remained splayed across her face. “I’ll be right with you once I’m done with this one. You boys behave yourselves, alright?” she replied with a chuckle, motioning towards Geralt.

“Always do,” Jannick grinned, raising his mug in a mock salute. “You take good care of our girl, witcher. Wouldn’t want her getting broken.”

Geralt glanced at Maja in question, and she responded with a pleading gaze. Her hand squeezed his, urging them to continue.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” he said, meeting Jannick’s gaze with a steady look before heading on, following his companion’s steps.

As they turned the corner, Geralt watched Martijn raise his hand abruptly and give the woman’s arse a hefty, reverberating slap. She squealed tightly at the motion, her body tensing as the men proceeded to burst into ravenous laughter at her upset reaction.

Geralt tensed, sneering at the sudden physicality, swiftly striding towards the scarred man and preparing to give him a piece of his mind. Just as he raised his arm to swing, he felt a gentle touch of Maja’s hand against his chest.

“Geralt,” she muttered, gaze sharp and boring into his face. The air around her stilled suddenly, eyebrows high on her forehead as they exchanged challenging glances. He could sense the men beside them halt, watching the commotion unravel. “Don’t. Please.”

The witcher clenched his jaw tightly, muscles taut with the urge to strike at the rowdy patron. He met her gaze, seeing the unspoken plea in her eyes. With a deep breath, he lowered his arm, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He hummed calmly, yet his gaze betrayed his faux demeanor by shooting an ice-cold look toward the two men. They cowered slightly, yet the smiles remained on their reddened faces.

“Thank you,” Maja muttered quietly, eyes filled with gratitude as they walked towards the staircase. As they reached the balustrade, the laughter and jeers from the patrons followed.

“Mighty witcher, got him wrapped around her little lady finger!” one of them called out, causing another round of laughter.

Despite the comments, the pair urged on. Geralt could sense his companion’s pace quicken as she fled up the stairs, skirt flailing with her speed. The man followed promptly, tailgating the girl as she led him up a ladder hidden at the dead end of a corridor.

As they climbed their way up, the air began to feel thick with a familiar scent. Lavender and vanilla… but perhaps it was honey? The smell weaved around Geralt, enveloping him with a comforting, sweet fragrance that made the witcher hum thoughtfully. It felt sentimental, somehow.

The attic room was lined with shelves overflowing with jars and pouches of dried herbs, each labeled meticulously with elegant handwriting. Bundles of drying flowers hung from the rafters, casting a range of intricate shadows on the wooden floor below.

Books, weathered and well-loved, were stacked in precarious piles across a large oak table that dominated the center of the room. Some lay open, their pages yellowed with age, revealing intricate diagrams and notes scribbled in faded ink.

An unlit candle stood sentinel among the tomes, which Maja approached promptly, stumbling over some of the open books with a quiet gasp.

The room was dark, lit only through the presence of a round, glass window peering into the outside world and giving the two a glimpse into the heaving storm. Below it stood an unpolished desk stacked with stray pieces of paper and a clay mug, paired with a matching chair.

With a hum, Geralt took a seat in silence. His arms crossed as he watched the woman work at a box of matches.

“Thank you for respecting my wishes down there,” she said quietly, her back to him as she busied herself with lighting the candle. “They’re harmless, really. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“They shouldn’t treat you like that,” Geralt replied, his voice still tinged with irritation at the patrons and Maja’s haphazard way of managing them.

“I’ve dealt with worse, and I’m sure you have, too,” the woman said solemnly, turning to face the man with a small, tired smile. “Don’t look at me like that, Geralt. I don’t take their disrespect lightly, that much you need to know. But you must understand… I don’t wish to anger them. The life of a barmaid is a humble one. I don’t make much coin, and what I do make often gets privately cut by my supervisor. These people’s drunk foolishness and their bottomless pockets might just help me find a better life for myself, if not now or tomorrow, then one day.”

Geralt remained silent, gaze insistent on holding Maja’s as she spilled her heart out to him. He couldn’t say much, not out of disregard, but a lack of words. Their lives differed drastically, and giving advice seemed like a fruitless effort.

“And I’ve said too much again. Forgive me, it’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to unravel myself like this,” she chuckled, the warmth returning to her voice as it did to the room. The candle’s gentle flame rose, casting a soft, golden light onto the walls. “I want to know more about you. Tell me then, why are you here?”

Geralt dropped his gaze, arms squeezing over his chest as his mind pictured a vague image of a flaxen-haired woman. Her green eyes narrowed with a smile that mimicked Geralt’s, yet he made it falter soon after.

“I’m looking for someone important to me,” he spoke softly, bringing his eyes back to Maja’s. Her frame seemed to glow in the soft candlelight, eyes reflecting in shades of liquid gold as she smiled kindly at him, empathizing.

“Family?” the woman questioned softly.

“Not exactly, but close enough. She’s like a daughter to me,” he spoke, words tinged with a potent mixture of longing and determination. He settled into the chair, the flickering flame casting shadows that danced across his weathered face.

Maja stepped forward, kneeling in front of the witcher with a gentle smile. "Someone like a daughter... That's a strong bond," she remarked softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a well-worn book on the floor between them. "You must care for her deeply."

"And you're here, risking your life to find her," Maja observed, her gaze steady as she met his eyes. "That says a lot about you, Geralt."

He nodded again, the lines of his face softening ever so slightly in the warm glow of the candle. "It's what I do," he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet resolve.

Maja reached out, her hand covering his briefly in a gesture of comfort. "You're doing what you feel is right," she assured him softly. "And that's more than most."

Geralt nodded, his eyes distant as memories flickered behind them. "She turned out to be... special. More than I could have imagined," he admitted quietly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability in the way it shook. “Strong, too. I wonder how much she’s changed.”

“She sounds wonderful,” the woman replied tactfully, reaching a hand towards the witcher but faltering momentarily. She withdrew, gaze dropping. “Maybe I could meet her one day?”

Geralt’s eyes broadened at the suggestion, yet his body remained lax. Suddenly, he could imagine an instance where the two girls made friends. It was a vague and hazy thought, yet the idea made the man chuckle. “I think you two could get along,” he replied, legs relaxing and falling to the sides. “You both have a stubborn streak.”

Maja's smile widened, a mild laugh escaping her lips. "Stubborn can be a good thing," she remarked lightly, her eyes meeting Geralt's with a warmth that mirrored the candlelight surrounding them. "It sounds like she's lucky to have you looking out for her."

Geralt nodded in silent acknowledgment, appreciative of the girl’s words. He took a moment to take in the air, allowing the gentle fragrance to ease his nerves.

“Is there anyone looking out for you? Family, lover?” he asked suddenly, tone flat yet his eyes reflected a genuine interest. He had realised the two knew nothing about each other, and yet were sharing tender conversation in the intimate setting of a hearth. Regardless, he awaited a response.

"Someone looking out for me?" She sighed softly, her gaze drifting momentarily to the dancing flames before meeting Geralt's eyes again. "Yes, well... I do. But it's complicated."

Geralt nodded in a comfortable silence, sensing the weight behind her words. He hummed slightly, acknowledging her response without pressing further.

Maja shifted her body weight, the corners of her lips curling into a small, rueful smile. "You know," she began softly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness to lighten the moment, "You should ask me again under better circumstances… perhaps after an ale."

Geralt's lips quirked in response, a rare hint of amusement crossing his stoic expression. "An ale, huh?" he mused, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of warmth. "I'll keep that in mind."

With another chuckle, Maja rose gracefully from her position, brushing invisible dust from her skirts. "Alright. Now, how about that bath?" she suggested lightly, her tone shifting as she moved towards a small door leading to an adjoining room. Her head turned to face the witcher one last time. “Don’t miss me too much, okay?” she giggled playfully and swiftly disappeared into the darkness ahead.

As Geralt watched the woman go, a flicker of admiration and curiosity brewed within his gut. He settled back against the wall with a sigh, allowing himself a moment of solitude to reflect on the unexpectedly inward conversation.

The storm continued to rage outside, and Geralt could hear the gentle sound of pouring water in the room over. He closed his eyes, allowing the ambiance to soothe his thoughts, meditating silently until he heard a soft, muffled singing. He couldn’t quite make out the words of it, but its rhythm felt solemn and strangely familiar.

As he let himself sink into the brief, comforting feeling of the moment, the singing abruptly stopped, followed by the sound of the doorway opening up again.

“Geralt,” his companion spoke soothingly, trying to get his attention yet staying careful as to leave his rest undisturbed. “Your bath is ready.”

The witcher nodded, promptly standing up and catching a glimpse of the woman’s flushed cheeks. As he approached, a warm, steamy current enveloped his tired face.

“Follow me,” Maja invited him with a smile, gesturing to come in. As he did, the air turned hot and stuffy. He skimmed around the small room, noting how similar it was to the first one, save for the books and journals.

Lines of herbs littered the ceiling, giving the sizzling air a soothing fragrance. In the center of the room stood a considerable wooden bathtub, its flanks polished smooth from years of use. The atmosphere had been prepared meticulously, water steaming deliciously as a fresh set of towels lay on a small stool to the side.

"Thank you," he declared sincerely, turning to meet her gaze. Her skin had grown slick from the moisture, and she puffed gently as she grinned.

“Least I can do for you,” she shrugged politely, curtsying as she headed for the main room. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be reading in the room over.”

Geralt nodded. The temperature had made his current getup uncomfortable, and so his hands had already begun toying with the clasp of his leather belt.

As he watched the door close, he sensed a rush of adrenaline surging through his body. In a point of weakness, his hand extended towards the girl.

“Share it with me,” he uttered assertively, just in time to glimpse the doorway stop, then swing back open, revealing a puzzled face and creased eyebrows.

“Share with you?” she questioned, cruising over to reveal her full body. Her hand glided off the doorknob slowly as she awaited an explanation.

“The bath. Share it with me,” the witcher replied promptly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the woman’s face for a hint of apprehension or rejection.

Yet, it never came. Her bewildered expression gradually shifted into one resembling gratitude and… mischief. Her eyebrows softened, eyes half-lidded as her lips curled into a muted smile. “You want to bathe together?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at her figurative remark, continuing to finger at his belt and finally feeling it come loose. He could sense Maja eyeing his midriff, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the shamelessness and the wideness of her eyes.

“I enjoyed our conversation, and wish to continue it,” he explained matter-of-factly, fingers trailing up to his breastplate. He began to work at the buttons there, skillfully undoing the intricate ties and letting the armor fall to his feet. “So, bathe with me.”

Maja hummed at the scene, taking a testing step forward whilst maintaining feverish eye contact with the witcher’s armorless torso. He felt so unspeakably light now, unburdened from the weight of his protection. He nodded at her, slowly tugging at the dark linen shirt dressing his toned body.

“So, so, outrageous, witcher,” Maja chuckled playfully, taking a long stride towards him. She gave him a lingering look as she passed, eyeing the soft trail of white lining his strong lower belly as he stretched to discard the shirt into a nearby corner. The woman chuckled, and his gaze followed her movements as she quickly disappeared behind an intricate partition separating the bath from the far side of the room. “Don’t you feel indecent, undressing like this in front of a lady?” she smiled, tone laced with slight sheepishness.

Geralt chuckled warmly, watching as the girl’s silhouette moved behind the thin, half-opaque part of the screen. She arched her back, grabbing at the clasps to her corset and undoing it promptly before he heard it drop to the floor, eyes insisting on her form. Next, she worked at her skirts, skillfully unbuttoning the back and letting them fall to the ground with a quiet thud. She was now left in her undergarments, the bouffant textile revealing less and less to the imagination.

“I could say the same for you,” Geralt retorted, mimicking the shadowy figure by sliding down the rim of his pants and codpiece. He sighed airily at the lack of constraints around his body, allowing the steam to nip gently at the exposed skin.

Maja laughed in return, her figure turning to face him. Somehow, even through the thick partition, he could feel her warm, challenging gaze scouting down his sweat-slick body.

“I feel like you’re looking at me, witcher,” she commented quietly, pausing to play with the elastic waistband of her bloomers.

“And how could you tell?” he questioned, hovering his gaze over the spot he assumed her eyes to be in.

She made a quick, incomprehensible sound at the response, something between a chuckle and a sigh. The fingers under her waistband lifted suddenly, soft fabric dropping to the ground.

Geralt observed the shape of her hips, the delectable way they curved at the widest point, then dipped. For a split second, he wondered how soft her thighs could feel beneath his rough palms.

“Intuition,” she responded at last, voice smooth and confident as her brasserie finally came undone.

Geralt followed suit, removing his own undergarments in an unusually slow matter. In a way, he wanted to savor the feeling of brief vulnerability, both physical and emotional.

He came forward, stepping into the bath cautiously and letting the heat envelop him. The warmth spread from his digits, up to his legs, and finally lapped up against his chest as he submerged.

On cue with the quiet splashing, he witnessed Maja shift behind the partition. “Close your eyes, okay?”

The man abided in a heartbeat, lids shutting tight as he adjusted his arms on either side of the tub, pecs flexing with the stretch.

He heard her soft, wet footsteps tapping against the wooden floorboards, approaching slowly and cautiously. The ambiguous darkness in front of him gave birth to a fuzzy image of the doe, its hooves prancing against the soft moss of the forest floor.

“Don’t peak,” she added through a grin, and the thought alone made Geralt’s eyes shift behind his lids. Regardless, he persevered.

Soon enough, he felt a small current splash against his chest, paired with the proximity of his companion entering the bath.

Once his eyes fluttered open, he watched the water ripple around her nude body. The woman’s skin looked soft to the touch, yet was littered with numerous scratches and bruises. They trailed along her arms and chest, or at least as far as his eyes could reach beneath the water’s sudsy surface.

Geralt readjusted his sitting, leaning comfortably against the edge of the tub. He noted the distance between them, far enough to keep their bodies apart yet close enough for the witcher to gauge the sparkle in the woman’s eyes.

He glanced down her body and watched her smooth her hand over the crystal clear surface, digits brushing over some greenery he had failed to notice before— eucalyptus and calendula. Their scents mingled, creating a soothing, thick atmosphere in the air between them. He reached out, brushing a petal aside with his fingers. “You know your herbs,” he commented, glancing up at Maja. “These aren’t just for show.”

The girl smiled softly, a touch of pride in her eyes. “Herbs have their uses beyond potions and poisons. A good bath, tea, or ointment can heal the mind as much as the body.”

He nodded at her small wisdom, nipping at the small, yellow flowers with his fingertips. “You said you knew Miroslav,” he observed, his tone suddenly stiffening at the recollection. “And a lot better than you initially let on.”

Maja’s expression grew thoughtful, a glint of sentiment clouding her half-lidded gaze. “Miro… is someone important to me. My childhood was complicated, or rather… became complicated at some point. He and his wife, they took me in, no questions asked. Nurtured me, helped me stand on my own… protect myself, make a living. I owe them a lot, including what I know now,” she said, her voice softer. “He’s my own Ciri.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the subtle undercurrent in her tone. Despite the limited information on Maja’s part, the subtle comparison to Ciri made Geralt’s lips tighten solemnly, a hum escaping his throat as he regarded his next words carefully. “He seemed worried about you.”

Maja looked away swiftly, her fingers playing with a strand of wet hair that cascaded down her shoulder. “Yes, he worries about me often. It’s nothing serious, I just…” she began, eyes darting around the room and landing on the window. She breathed in deeply.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued at the sudden quiet. “Just what?” he prompted, leaning his body forward as a learned intimidation tactic. He didn’t feel it was appropriate in the situation, yet his habits betrayed him.

Maja sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she allowed her eyes to connect with Geralt’s again. “The killings in the forest, that monster… they’re worried for me, that’s all. And I don’t blame them one bit, every one of us has been on edge recently… nobody knows what’s lurking out there, or perhaps they’re just too scared to find out.”

Geralt stayed silent through the woman’s monologue, allowing her to reveal the information bit by bit.

Maja’s fingers stilled in the water, her expression becoming guarded. “There’s a lot of history to this land… a lot of needless suffering that happened in these woods. It’s not something anyone can take back, but… I think there’s a reason for what’s been happening.”

“You’re being cautious,” Geralt replied lowly, studying the woman’s face closely. He noted the subtle rise of her eyebrows at his unusual sternness and so decided to lean in closer. He felt his hand brush against Maja’s nude calf, and she flinched at the soft physicality. He didn’t withdraw.

“Anything you can tell me might be useful,” Geralt pressed gently. “Even the smallest hint could make a difference.”

Maja hesitated, her gaze dropping to the swirling water below. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the vibrant glow of her slick skin. She traced a finger along the edge of the bathtub, thoughts seemingly lost in turbulent depths.

“There are… stories,” Maja began slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “About something ancient that roams this land. Some call it a pulse point, a powerful epicenter of some sort.”

Geralt nodded thoughtfully, absorbing her words. “Do you believe these killings are connected to that?”

Maja hesitated again, her lips forming a thin line. “I… I don’t know, Geralt,” she admitted reluctantly. "People have always been unkind to that which they perceive as different."

The witcher stiffened at her words, eyes widening slightly and taking in the woman’s somber expression. Somehow, it felt like there was a sentiment in her language, the way she frowned, how the candlelight illuminated her pronounced nose and soft brow ridge.

“And yet it’s something that has never discouraged you before,” he began quietly, crossing his arms over his legs, attempting to close the gap between them.

“It’s complicated,” Maja replied hastily, rubbing at her arm. “But I bet you’d understand. How does it feel, Geralt? Being a witcher?”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. He had thought about this question often, staring at the night sky for hours until a glint of explanation manifested, anything to satiate his search for identity; alas, it never appeared as expected. “It feels like an urge. A calling,” he began slowly, his gravelly voice carrying the weight of solemn memories and lost lives. “It’s about survival, strength, a sense of duty. But it’s also about choice— choosing to protect those who can’t protect themselves, even when they despise you for what you are.”

Maja listened intently, her eyes searching his face as if trying to unravel the layers of stoicism and strength he wore like armor. “It sounds lonely,” she remarked softly, almost to herself.

“It can be,” Geralt admitted, his gaze drifting to the flickering candlelight dancing on the water’s surface. “But every once in a while, you meet someone who reminds you why you keep going.”

She met his eyes then, her expression softening. “Like Ciri.”

Geralt nodded, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Like Ciri.”

Maja nodded, pondering the connection. “The way you speak about her… it’s admirable. You might have a tough shell, but I bet there’s a soft heart somewhere in the depths of your chest.” she ventured gently.

Geralt regarded her with surprise, eyes widening at the heartfelt comment. He sighed softly, allowing her words to wash over him in a moment of silence.

Maja met Geralt's eyes again, her expression thoughtful. She raked a hand through her dampened hair, body sinking deeper into the water. “When will you depart?” she asked gently, “Posada, that is.”

Geralt considered her question, his gaze drifting to the vague outline of the woman’s thighs gliding beneath the glassy tile of water. “It’s not a question I can answer easily,” he confessed, “There are still things I must attend to here. It’s what fate had in store for me, and so I must honor it.”

“And where will it lead you next?” Maja pressed softly, her eyes probing.

Geralt shrugged narrowly, an unsightly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Here, for now,” he replied. “The Path is a cryptic code with no set rules or requirements, no moral compass or direction. Wherever it takes me, so mote it be.”

The woman nodded gently, allowing her arm to swim silently across the space separating them. She let it slide across his forearm, dipping down to brush at his battered knuckles. “You’re welcome here,” she said sincerely, voice tinged with warmth. “As long as you need.”

“Appreciate it,” Geralt murmured, yet his yearning digits betrayed the nonchalance of his tone. He let the woman explore his palm, feeling her fingertips graze at his rough skin and caress the countless scars there.

He felt it again— the sweet, palliative aroma of lavender and honey. It churned in his nose, sending paroxysms of euphoria throughout his body and sending him into a bizarre overdrive. His fists clenched as he attempted to wash the feeling away, rasping under his breath at the intensity of the sensation.

Suddenly, the woman leaned in. The water rippled in waves as her legs repositioned, allowing her leverage and better control over her stirs.

“Geralt,” she chanted quietly, soft breasts peeking out of the water as she rose on her knees. The witcher observed, hopelessly entranced by the smooth, slick skin and the rouge peaks of her nipples as they emerged from beneath the surface. The sky outside roared, and in the heat of the moment, Geralt uncovered an aching to reach out and touch her skin, feel the warmth of it, caress at the curves of her body.

“What is this?” he questioned through gritting teeth, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he navigated the strange intoxication flowing through his body. “This smell—”

“Lavender and honey,” they said in unison, voices echoing in a remarkable, reverberating symphony that echoed within the witcher’s drunken mind.

The woman stopped, her hand entwined in Geralt’s larger one as they exchanged gazes. He felt stuck in place and time, watching her pupils dilate into two black discs. The witcher inhaled sharply, letting a barely audible grunt sneak past his parted lips, harmonizing with the strong patter of rain outside.

Suddenly, thunder struck down with the blinding glow of nearby lightning. The sound pulsated within the atmosphere, weaving into the tantric air, making his companion flinch with a loud yelp and momentarily clearing the witcher’s murky vision. He stiffened, hand tensing around Maja’s before she slowly sunk into the water again, withdrawing from his fervent grip. She gazed at him, eyes sparkling as he rubbed at the lingering feeling of her extracted touch.

Geralt blinked rapidly, adjusting his body and squeezing at his palms. He sighed, head shaking gently as he tried to recalibrate, his confusion briefly overshadowed by his companion’s harsh reaction. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, voice subdued yet somewhat dismayed. “Just a storm.”

Maja nodded, her breath still hastened as she took in the reassuring sight of Geralt’s sturdy form. She exhaled loudly, trying to rescue her composure, and offered him a faint smile tinged with gratitude.

“Just a storm,” she nodded along, body sliding downwards and allowing her head to submerge fully. She lingered there, long hair floating beneath the surface like a bundle of dark sea kelp, matching the gentle ebb and flow of their bath.

Surfacing, she let her hair cascade down her shoulders in shiny ribbons, quickly brushing it back with stray droplets shimmering in the candlelight. Geralt’s lips twitched in a dry chuckle. “Any better under there?”

“Much,” the woman answered quietly, tilting her head and beaming softly. They sat in a restful silence, the woman beginning to gently brush her calf against his and watching for a reaction. He held her gaze, staying put and abiding by the physicality, watching her benevolent gaze falter to gloom. She withdrew momentarily, splashing at the water.

“I’ll get the sheets ready,” she declared politely, shifting her arms to get out of the bath. Her eyes suddenly met his, and she quirked an eyebrow. “Eyes closed now.”

Geralt tilted his head quizzically, yet the woman’s increasingly stony expression urged him to comply. He felt a gentle splash followed by gentle, quiet trickling as the girl made it out of the wooden tub. Suddenly, against his better judgment, Geralt’s eyes fluttered open, just enough to catch a subtle glimpse of his companion’s backside.

The witcher gazed down her shoulders, watching them flex and release as she squeezed her hair dry. The grove of her spine descended a slick slope, smooth skin harboring a constellation of scattered moles. He hummed, taking note of the two dimples decorating her lower back, and finally reaching the soft flesh of her ass. He stared for a while, admiring, feeling like a hungry wolf watching his delicate prey pasture in a field. He grunted quietly at the unchaste thought, deciding to shut his eyes again in a moment of foreboding clarity.

He heard some shuffling, stomping around, a grunt or two, and finally a gentle voice. “Okay, you can look now.”

His eyes reopened, no hint of mischief in their glassy surface. The woman appeared before him, dressed in a large, linen slip. The white cloth bared irregular patches of wetness scattered across its surface, making Geralt suppose she dressed in a hurry; perhaps as a habit.

“I’ll get everything ready for you. Relax and enjoy the water while it’s still hot, okay?” she giggled warmly, flashing the man a giddy smile. He nodded in understanding, leaning back against the bath’s flank.

For a split second, Maja hesitated. She stood in place, doorknob in hand, yet refusing to twist. She gazed over Geralt’s exposed chest, across his strong arms, and down the faint outlines present beneath the suds. Her face glowed in the soft lights, casting a soft shade of pink across her nose, temples, and cheeks.

“Thank you,” his companion started loudly, wincing at her own shrill. She cleared her throat to recompose herself, beginning again. “For listening. I haven’t said so much in one sitting in a long, long time.” she giggled.

The witcher’s lips parted to speak, but before he could utter a word, the woman shot him a reassuring grin and disappeared behind the door. The man sighed, taking in the sudden silence, or what felt like a silence. The storm continued to rage outside, intermitted by soft sloshing and Geralt’s steady breathing.

He shut his eyes and sighed meditatively, enjoying the warm bath and gentle kindness of a stranger for just a second longer, or at least for as long as the night allowed. He thought about the deer, the journal in the woods, Miroslav, Maja… the memories of that day flashed behind his eyes like a storybook, making him sigh in exasperation. He thought of her soft breasts and the way they bounced with her subtle movements, her plump thighs and delicate waist, ideal for sinking his palms into…

Geralt grunted softly. Unbeknownst to him, his hand had begun dipping down his stomach and trailing along the soft patch of flaxen. He stroked that area, humming quietly as his digits passed down a pulse point, feeling the mild, rhythmic pumping of his blood.

The witcher flexed his back, adjusting for comfort and letting his hand slide lower. As he reached the base, he let out a soft moan escape his throat. The gentle pressure made him shiver, a strong inflow of blood causing him to engorge against his palm. He pressed at the soft flesh of his cock, feeling it pulsate rhythmically to the beat of his heart.

Thunder crashed, and his mind flooded with images of her bare ass. He furrowed his eyebrows at the lewd picture, surprised at its immense clarity within his memory. With a soft pull, he began working at his thick length, remembering the shallow dimples on her lower back. Each stroke elicited the softest of grunts from him, progressively quickening the pleasurable motion.

He thought about her voice. With every pull, he imagined hearing her chant his name, moan, and mewl in pleasure as he pounded into her with a vigor he was certain she hadn’t experienced before.

His hand grew into a fist, lips a tight line as he pumped his cock. Eyes half-lidded, he glanced over at the doorway where he last saw her leave. The memory of aromatic lavender and sweet, sticky honey enveloped his senses, hand gliding smoothly against the hardness of his length at the intoxicating thought of the fragrance.

Geralt could feel himself reaching his limit. His lips fell apart, teeth clenched tight while his hand stroked rhythmically, picking up the pace and pressure. He could feel his cock throbbing between his digits, gently enveloped by the warm water current that only elevated the fierce affair.

“Fuck…” he called out breathlessly, head rolling back to hit the brim of the bathtub. He bucked his hips into his open hand, picking up a rough, animalistic rhythm. He fucked into the hole, eyes closed to let his mind roam where it wanted to be most at the moment. He imagined grabbing her soft thigh, squeezing at its soft flesh and pounding, fucking, ramming—

“Gods, fuck—” he hissed suddenly, feeling the tension brewing inside his stomach, extending rapidly throughout his lower body and spine, bucking his tired hips one last time until… he went over the edge. With a tremor in his hand, he felt his entire being come undone as his hot seed spilled into the bath, mixing with the salty beads of sweat cascading down his flexed muscles.

The witcher breathed heavily at the comedown, whispering quiet praises into the humid air that reached nobody but the silent flames of candlelight. With a gentle sigh, he felt a wave of primal ecstasy and relaxation wash over his strained body, soaking his skin with sparks of electricity.

Then, there was silence. The man’s heaving calmed, and before long, he felt a strange longing brewing in his stomach. In one instance, he began scooping water over his flaxen hair, letting it dampen and soak.

Once he was done, he withdrew from the warm comforts of the bath and faced the inevitable, unforgiving chill of the attic. He stood there, watching the soapy water cascade down his heated body, and considered his companion. It was a peculiar feeling, an elaborate blend of culpability and interest as he evaluated his prior acts. Despite his fiendish looks and capabilities, even witchers craved the mortal touch of a warm woman.

Exiting the bath felt like a necessary evil as the cool breeze began seeping through the half-open window. Geralt huffed as he wrapped a towel around his waist, quickly enrobing himself in a simple linen shirt and pants. Once done draining the water and drying off properly, he slowly made his way through the elusive doorway to the other room.

The scent of autumn rain and thunderstorms hit his nose immediately. A soft, palpable freshness of the soil that soothed his senses and lulled him into oblivion within seconds.

Taking another step forward, he noticed the dimness of the room. The stray candle had been put out, instead replaced by a burnt-out yet still fragrant stick of incense that clouded the room in a cozy, aromatic haze.

His eyes glanced around the perimeter, taking note of how much neater the space looked. The stray books littering the floor were now perched neatly on top of each other, while the sheepskin rug lay flattened next to the bed.

Curiously, on it lay his companion.

Her soft, damp hair cascaded down an intricately embroidered quilt, her limp body cocooned safely within its warmth. The bed next to her had been carefully made, complete with a fresh set of clean linen and a soft, inviting pillow.

Geralt couldn’t help but sigh at the peaceful scenery. He walked over quietly, making sure to keep the woman’s peace undisturbed. He crouched down, letting the soft, airy groans of the girl fill his body with warmth and comfort. She was sound asleep, tucked in like a baby lamb.

Without hesitation, he placed a slow, secure hand under the woman’s back and knees. Effortlessly, he lifted her off the sheepskin, feeling her weight sink into his strong arms.

Her skin felt searing, and so, so satiny after the long bath they had taken together. He glanced at her face, admiring the placid, sheer expression on her tired face. In the soft glow of the night, she seemed to be smiling.

After a prolonged beat, Geralt rose and took a step towards the made bed. He unraveled the fresh sheets and gently pressed the woman’s body into the mattress. She sighed at the motion, yet her eyes remained shut. She shuffled around, finding a comfortable position on her back and quickly pulling the covers up to her chin.

He leaned in, placing a gentle hand against her covered shoulder. She sighed at the touch, eyebrows softening instantaneously. Geralt chuckled gently, lingering for a moment, yet finally deciding to withdraw. He gazed upon Maja’s face for a while, picking at the moles and imperfections littering her skin, up until her body shifted to face the wall. Her hair flowed gently down her back, gliding like shining ribbons upon the soft quilt.

With a soft sigh, he finally withdrew from her sleeping form. He sat on the sheepskin carpet, allowing his body to relax against the hard, wooden floor. After many decades of similar, if not worse, conditions, it was something he had grown used to.

With a guttural groan, he stretched out his limbs, letting them fall naturally to his sides. He twisted to the flank, leaning against his forearm and catching yet another peek of his sleeping companion.

Maja had curled in her sleep once more, this time facing him fully. He skimmed her features for a while, counting the tiny moles resting upon her cheeks and forehead that spread across her face like a small galaxy. As he continued, the soft buzz of rain lulled his mind to a quiet rest. His eyes gradually closed, eyebrows came lax, and ultimately, the last memory of that day was the delicate scent of lavender and honey mingled with her gentle smile bidding him goodnight as he fell into sweet oblivion.

—

Deep into that faithful night, whenever thunder would strike the small town of Posada, Geralt would feel the delicate embrace of a woman’s hand as it caressed the scars of his own.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hi! I love you! It’s finals season and I’m barely scraping by and suffering lots, so I could use a fanfic to live through! What about a mini fic where Peter is doing some homework in his room (compound/tower, or just Tony’s house but Morgan doesn’t exist) and he has a pretty bad fever. Tony notices he’s getting frustrated really easy and checks his temperature and then lots of cuddles?

Another mini-fic! This time staring a feverish, grumpy little rain cloud Peter and a very dad-like Mr. Stark. :) Very very very mild angst and some good old-fashioned fluff. Oh. And Peter gets a hug.

Finals Week Heat 980 words

Peter sat at his desk in Mr Stark’s workshop and grasped a fistful of his hair. It was only Wednesday, and he was already burnt out. Finals had been going strong all week, and he still had two more to go. His worst subjects. Spanish and world history. He released his hair in favor of rubbing his eyes and stared at his notes. As they blurred in and out of focus he slammed his fist down on the desk.

“Easy, Pete,” Mr. Stark called from across the room. “ What’s got you all worked up over there?”

“Nothing!” Peter snapped before he could stop himself. But he was so exhausted he ached and his head was starting to throb. It was making him unreasonably irritable. “I'm not worked up! I’m just tired.”

Mr. Stark arched a single brow. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

“Does it matter? I’ve been busy for days! I think I’m allowed to be tired.” Peter flourished a dismissive hand and directed his attention to his notes. “Just go back to your work and leave me alone.”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark warned. But for some reason, Peter didn’t take the hint, He visibly bristled and narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he aggressively shouted. “I know you’re in the middle of at least three projects and I have to study. Actually. You know what? I’ll just take this to my room. It’s whatever.” Immediately, he started haphazardly stuffing things into his bag, ready to flee the situation before it escalated further.

“Nuh-uh, no way, no how. Sit back down Kid.” Mr. Stark stood up, taking on an authoritative posture. “We need to talk about your attitude.”

Peter knew he should listen, and any other day he probably would. However, the tension in his body was wound so tight, he snapped instead. “I don’t want to sit down and don't want to talk to you. I just want to get this done.”

Mr. Stark's jaw clenched. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Knowing it was best to give in, Peter threw himself into his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Whether it was out of indignation or because an unexpected chill had consumed him, he wasn’t sure. Rather than contemplate it, he glared across the room.

“What are you studying for?”

“Finals. You know that,” Peter spat.

Mr. Stark’s face remained stoney as he regarded Peter with scrutiny. A few beats passed. He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been at it for hours with the flashcards, Kiddo. Why don’t you just call it a night?”

“Because I happen to like my 4.0 GPA, Mr. Stark!” The sarcasm was thick but the sentiment was genuine. He was at the top of his class and the pressure to remain in that slot was high. “If I don’t study, I don’t get to keep it.”

Mr. Stark's head tilted to the side. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine,” Peter grumbled. “Why?”

“You’re not usually this snippy with me,” Mr. Stark casually replied. He spanned the distance between them and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, down to his neck. The contact Made Peter shiver. “You’re burning up, Buddy,” Tony said, his voice significantly softer. “FRIDAY? Get me a tempt, will you?”

“Mr. Parker’s temperature is at one-hundred and two point three degrees.”

Mr. Stark nodded and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely done studying for tonight. The good news is, you’ll have a few extra days to review the material because you are definitely not going to school to-’”

“I have to go!” Peter growled. “I have finals to take!” He wished he didn’t. Staying home sounded idea.

“Nope. Zip it. The adult is talking.” Mr Stark, sent him a look, daring him to say anything else. Peter snapped his mouth shut. “You’re not going to school with a fever of a hundred and two. Not happening. You can make up the test.”

Peter slumped in his seat. “I want to be done with them,” he mumbled.

“And I want you to feel better,” Tony replied without missing a beat. His fingers went back to Peter’s hair. “You’re clearly miserable, Buddy,”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his eyes beginning to water. He gathered a tremulous breath and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t feel good.”

“Okay, Kiddo. You’re going to be okay.” Mr. Stark wiped a stray tear from Peter’s cheek and hauled him into a firm hug. “Let’s get upstairs, hmm?”

Inside the elevator, Peter leaned into Mr. Stark. “Sorry, I yelled at you.”

“I’d say it’s okay, but I definitely don’t want you biting my head off like that,” Mr. Stark said. He paused to swipe the bangs off of Peter’s forehead. Probably gauging the fever again, in the process. “It would be much easier if you just told me when you were sick.”

Peter sighed, unsure of how to explain how difficult it was to satisfy literally everyone’s expectations. “I didn’t want to-” he began, but Mr. Stark cut him off quickly.

“Another time, Bud. We’ll talk about it another time.” They had arrived at the penthouse. Mr. Stark stepped inside first and gestured down the hall. “For now, go get in your pajamas and meet me on the couch. I’ll fetch you some meds, and we’ll watch a movie until you conk out on me.”

Peter huffed a small laugh, knowing that’s exactly what would happen. He’d arrive at the couch wearing his comfiest pajamas, soft blanket in hand. Mr. Stark would give him some pills and sit in the corner of the furniture. He’d allow Peter to burrow into his side and, together, they would pick a movie. Probably something science fiction. It didn’t really matter. Mr. Stark was right. He’d be warm and comfortable and sound asleep before they made it a quarter of the way in.

Super happy to see you again @yescaptainmarvel123875 I feel like it's been a while! Hope you are doing well and enjoy this fic!!

[tealfling]

9 People You Want to Know Better Tag

Tagged by: @kimberbohwrites , @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @fic--writer @daisyofwaterdeep @poetryvampire

Tagging: @faerunsbest @tiefliing @hippotooth @barbwillbrb

Three Ships: Rolan x Tav, Alfira x Lakrissa, Boney & Stoney

First Ship: I've been thinking about characters kissing so long idk if I remember...maybe Golith X Elisa Maza

Last Song: Thunderstruck, 2Cellos cover

Last Movie: Twister-- first the first time I might add bc my husband wants me to see the new movie with him

Currently Reading: Fanfics just so much Rolan fanfics

Currently Watching: catching up on Critical Role.

Currently Eating: just finished off a biscuit with some coffee

Currently Craving: the inspiration to finish this fanfic

[headcansxfanfictions]

Kurapika Fanfic:

Oito Scolds Kurapika for not taking care of himself.

Kurapika paces the length of the room. Muttering incoherent sentence to himself.

THROB.

“Kurapika?”

THROB.

“Kurapika!”

The Queen’s soft but commanding voice snaps him back to his surroundings. He curses himself for letting his awareness slip. He knows that could be a fatal mistake.

THROB.

“Your majesty?” He winces as he tries to focus his eyes but the migraine is messing with his vision.

“You’ve been pacing for a very long time. Is there a new development I should know of?” The young mother inquires, eager to ease the fate of her daughter.

“No ma’am, I was going over old information. I apologize for being distant.”

THROB.

He restrains himself from wincing again, but his breath hitches all the same. This damn migraine wont go away.

The Queen furrows her brow and repositions the sleeping Prince in her arms, “You should eat something and take a rest. A headache like that wont go away on its own.”

Now its Kurapika’s turn to frown. “I dont think I should —“

“Bill is plenty capable of keeping watch.” The Queen interrupts.

“Your majesty, I —”

“Please,” Oito snaps, “you haven’t even slept since the incident. If woble is going to survive this we can’t have you withering away.” Her glare is stoney and unwavering. Kurapika cringes at the sudden noise assaulting his pounding head. “That might sound harsh and honestly I don’t care, you need to hear it.”

Kurapika is rendered speechless, it’s unlike the soft spoken Queen to raise her voice.

“Now go have a meal, and get some rest.” The Queen orders before curtly switching her attention to the now awoken Woble.

“Yes’m,” Kurapika nods. He turns on his heals, glancing at a wide eyed Bill, before averting his gaze in shame.

[rayan12sworld]

💖💙Run Off The World

By:Sapphire_Roses

Summary:

Thirteen years after the disappearance of the Wen Remnants, twelve years after the official defection of Lan Wangji from the Gusu Lan sect, and ten years after the establishment of the Yiling Wei sect, the Cultivation world seeks the help of a man they have forsaken after the Battle of The Nightless City.

What they expect to find is a land of monsters and ghosts, led by man who is torn apart and worn out by his heretic ways, and the once-esteemed Hanguang-Jun in chains and tears.

What they do find is a thriving sect consisting of living, beaming people, a very smug and very happy Wei Wuxian, and a terribly content and – although as perfectly peerless as ususal – very jaded Lan Wangji.

Chapter:42/?

Words:242,828

Status:ongoing

Author:@rosesapphire2323

In here we have yiling laozu , wei ying in this fanfic he really is badass and intelligent, dramatic, cool ....ect.

We have hanguang-Jun, that's even more badass and he is so dramatic 😂😂

:Jiang Wanyin can bet everything they have in Lotus Pier's treasury that Lan Wangji has gone through the extra fucking Li just to be dramatic"😂

He is very shameless too like this quote

"You fell asleep after the third time." Lan Wangji says brazenly.

He is even more intelligent

(So Lan Wangji wrapped the very sign of a Lan's devotion around Wei Wuxian's arm under his clothes, gambling on– no, manipulating his sentimentality to make him return and take him back, when he's clearly been planning to clear Lan Wangji of all accusations and leave him behind, by giving an awfully long speech and putting up an act.) See?

~~~~

It almost makes Jiang Wanyin jealous. "Why are you so obsessed with Second Young Master Lan anyway?" Jiang Wanyin asked, bored out of his mind, on a sunny afternoon in Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian was obviously not working on his lessons. Granted, he didn't need to. But he could at least pretend, for Jiang Wanyin's sake. Instead, he was drawing something, white sleeves tied up so that he wouldn't dirty the pristine robe with black ink after he got in trouble for it last time. "Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asked, like he needed to clarify who they were talking about. As if his 'Lan Zhan' and 'Second Young Master Lan' were two different people. "Who the fuck else?" Jiang Wanyin growled. "I don't get it. The guy obviously hates you." Wei Wuxian hummed. "I don't care if Lan Zhan hates me." What? Wei Wuxian, not caring if people hated him? The boy lived and breathed being well-liked! What made Lan Wangji's obvious distaste so different? Jiang Wanyin raised a brow. "Then why? He's obviously not your friend, so...?" "It's all relatively simple, really." Wei Wuxian stopped drawing, and held the paper up to examine it. Bright sunlight shot through the paper, enough to reveal the markings of the ink.  He has drawn a magnolia tree. He put the paper down, smiling softly. "He's like... my equal." Jiang Wanyin paused. Equal. He grit his teeth. All his life, he tried to be Wei Wuxian's equal, running after him with all he had, and then all of a sudden, Lan Wangji barged in with his stoney face and cold words, and became Wei Wuxian's equal.

"That's nonsense." He tried to keep his voice even. "You two are nothing alike."

Wei Wuxian shrugged, picking up his brush again. Adding details to the drawing. "He's just..." He stopped, and tried again. "Sure, he's a stick in the mud and a stickler for rules, but he's good. He matches pace with me. He annoys me and I annoy him back. He frowns at me and it's so fun to see his cold expression break with anger. I love laughing when it pisses him off. He enjoys annoying me, too, I guess. He's extra stiff with me. Makes shattering that mask of his just so much sweeter."

Then, he chuckled. Jiang Wanyin watched with dawning horror as his brother's face grew fond, brush flying across the paper. "You should see him when he gets angry enough to draw his sword, though."

Wei Wuxian looked up, eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and joy.  "That's when he truly comes alive. It makes me want to fight with him forever."

What delicate choice of words, Jiang Wanyin thinks. 'Fight with him'. 

Be it against him or beside him, you want him all the same ~~~~~

We have other characters like Jiang yanli and

Originally characters ,they have amazing personalities

~~

You guys will see Yiling laozu in chapter 37,he is very dangerous,

("Lan Xichen," Wei Wuxian addresses, and the unfamiliarity of it is much more startling than the disrespect it ought to deliver. 

"I know you are fully aware of what I am capable of." Wei Wuxian says, tone stern, staring unflinchingly into Lan Xichen's eyes. "Yet I'm not sure if you know how far I am willing to go. Which is why I will tell you." Lan Xichen holds his breath. He is certain he doesn't imagine the slight flash of red in Wei Wuxian's sunlit irises.

"When I speak of my death, I don't speak of it lightly." Wei Wuxian says. "My deathbed is my birthplace, Lan Xichen. Death doesn't scare me. It won't consume me, not anymore, not after those months. My death is my mercy. Do you know why?"

Lan Xichen says nothing. Wei Wuxian doesn't seem to require him to speak. "I would level this entire sect to the ground." Wei Wuxian speaks, low and careful, as if ensuring Lan Xichen hears every word clearly. 

"I could start, right now, and no living nor dead creature will be able to stop me. It would barely take me until nightfall. I would uproot every tree, overturn every body of water, bring down this mountain upon itself." Then, he tilts his head, and Lan Xichen uses every single last piece of his strength to hold himself back from drawing his sword.  His mind screams at him, Run run run! But he can't. He's frozen in place, rooted on the spot.

"If I wanted to, I could make every single last one of your dead claw their way out of grave. I already know where your very well-hidden ancestral graveyard is." His eyelids flutter in a mockery of a blink over crimson eyes. 

Only then does Lan Xichen realize that he hadn't blinked since they made eye-contact. 

"I could turn your Wall of Discipline into ash with a snap of my fingers. I know the Wen tried, and failed. But I assure you, I am not the Wen." Lan Xichen barely holds back the words, the ones he only now realizes their truth. 

No, you're more dangerous than the Wen.

"If I willed it, Gusu Lan would be no more come sunset." Wei Wuxian says casually, as though he speaks of the weather over tea, and not of the destruction of Lan Xichen's home. "None of your elders, disciples, Grandmaster Lan, or even you would be able to stop me. If you garnered all the knowledge inside your library, weaponized every spiritual artifact, or called upon the Heavens themselves, you would not be able to stop me." Lan Xichen finds that he does not doubt they could not. Four sects, maybe. Maybe. But one? One sect does not stand a chance against the full power of the Yiling Patriarch. "And I would do it," Wei Wuxian says, sounding less and less human, the more he speaks. It is as though his voice is echoed in the space between every bamboo tree. Lan Xichen barely feels the light of the sun, anymore. It is as though the black of the shadows have spread, like ink upon paper, clouding the sky.  "I would, because twelve years ago, I woke in the middle of the night, half paralyzed and half out of my mind, with Lan Zhan bleeding out to death by the wards of Burial Mounds. If it weren't for his survival that demanded my attention, I would've levelled the mountains of Gusu that very night." Lan Xichen thinks back, to the storm, the rain.  To Wangji's soaked body, to his trembling hands.  He had thought the storm and downpour that flooded Gusu and lasted days to be ominous sign of Wangji's departure.  Now he knows they escaped a much worse curse by a hair's breadth. "If you imagine that the weight of my regret and rage wouldn't be enough to turn this land over," Wei Wuxian goes on, voice level, pale face cold. "I suggest you thoroughly reconsider. I watched my Zhiji prone upon a bed for years. Every night, he takes the last of his robes off, and I see thirty-three scars on his back. He doesn't hide them, because he isn't ashamed, and I look at them, because I am." Lan Xichen lets himself exhale shakily. 

He doesn't know how he musters up the bravery to speak. "Wangji's decisions–" The whispering air around him tightens so abruptly that he snaps his mouth shut. He's frozen. His limbs are cold, and stiff. He doesn't dare breathe in the condemning silence that follows. He waits, staring into Wei Wuxian's bloody eyes.  He hadn't blinked, not even once, he thinks hysterically. "Lan Zhan's decisions are his," Wei Wuxian eventually says, calmly. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Lan Xichen swallows. 

He doesn't nod.

  His muscles won't move. 

His bones are stuck. 

He prefers shouting to this deathly calm. "Lan Xichen. I do not care if I was persecuted, or whipped to death, or left out to bleed as a spectacle until I died." Wei Wuxian shrugs, and Lan Xichen notices with mounting horror that it's the first time he has seen his shoulders move since this conversation began. 

His shoulders were not moving.

  His shoulders were not moving in the motion of breathing.

Lan Xichen's mind slowly reels out of his control.)

See it isn't even all of them, I think I like chapter 37 the most😭

A few characters :

Our mastermind have a tigress

"A-Xue." Nie Huaisang waves his fan in goodbye as he heads for his chamber's doors. "If someone comes for my fans, brushes, or wine, eat them. If they come for the sect documents, let them take it all."

He could always do with less paperwork. Saying that the documents were stolen will most likely not result in Nie Fenghuo cutting him in clean halves with her sabre.

Baofengxue growls softly in reprimand, as Nie Huaisang closes the doors behind him.

Even his own tiger is judgemental of him. Truly, the world is a cruel place.

[kirric-the-fan]

Did I have a weirdly plot sensible lie-in dream with a well executed plot twist on my bingo card for today? No. Am I making notes of it for a possible translate to precure fanfic? Yes.

So, I was like a general dogsbody/security for a sprawling shopping mall, and it turns out they'd been suffering from some thefts lately. And by thefts I mean, things like business secrets, special contracts, vital recipes sort of thing. Not the petty stuff . So the mall was recruiting spy-like special agents to try and find and stop the thefts. These agents included a number of sensible, regularly trained adults, and myself who happened to hear the right thing in the right place at the right time and wanted to pitch in, but it also included a number of the precure girls, including Manatsu, Yui, Nozomi (for some reason), and most of the most recent couple of precure teams.

So various investigations happen. There's a guy with small ears, a bald head, and a pink-check shirt that is under suspicion, but we're not able to prove it. There's a whole distraction of food, competition between the cure girls and the regular spies. And among it all I'm having to do the normal security job, including cordening off a surprise infestation of snakes in an area of the mall near where I was living (including a couple of small ones which kept turning back into lizards when picked up and handled freely). I used heelies to get around the mall a lot and chase leads, but I was allowed because I was an adult and secretly working for the mall.

I also got dragged off (while on the clock) by some of my old friends, including an old boyfriend who got me some food he owed for a long time in a I'll buy you the next one way, so I was stuck in a group of boisterous lads who I had to explain I had changed my name and didn't go by the old one, and there was a moment of "oh god, how are they going to react", but then they were like "that's so cool!" and all high fives and cheering on and pats on the back, which was extremely bro supportive and weirdly relieving.

And I just about escaped from that to get back to work and see how the snake situation is getting on and the call comes through that the thief has struck again. I caught a glimpse of the bald guy and give chase through the city, this time on rollerskates. Some of the other agents are doing the same, but a lot seemed to have different leads to follow and we're almost all split up.

Anyway, I chase down this guy, and as I'm catching him, he starts to go off-road, and I'm having to skate over rocks, proper cross-country technical stuff, down gullys and rock faces some of which I can only navigate safely on my ass. But I just about manage to keep up. Like, there was a lot of that, including a steep, semi-grassy zig-zag bit, and stoney ruins. But we as we caught up with him, nearly looped all the way around, he was gloating, trying to distract us, it seemed. On the way we he had been saying there was a mole in the agency, and that he had already offloaded the information. But as we caught him, the info was gone and we realised it had to be true. The way he kept gloating about the mole, that they were deep within the agency, closer than you suspect, ready to activate whenever they needed them, implied them to be one or more of the cures. So I get back full circle, and the cures are there, and right on cue it looks like Manatsu and Nozomi might be reacting to something, but then it stops, and they are able to transform (proving to not be the moles).

But a wave of ominous darkness comes through from the nearby plaza, classic villain/monster of the week warning signs, and I take a look. I can't see who or what it is, I can just see the Wonderful cures by their coloured ribbon bits standing out in the darkness, and then a voice comes from the darkness, obviously corrupted, obviously not quite themself, but it's also quite obviously Yui, who I suddenly realise hadn't been in the other cure line up I had witnessed on my return.

I kinda woke up at that point, but yeah.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

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[runesandramblings]

"To The Ends of The Earth"

Word Count: TBD / ongoing

Content Warnings: none, follows the events from The Hobbit so there will be the expected violence from the movies

Pairings: KilixOC

Themes: crossover Marvel x Tolkien, romance, fanfic, canon-ish events

Summary:

In the wake of The Blip, the multi-verse has expanded knowledge of the universe in ways no one thought possible. For the first time, journeying between realms and realities is a tangible possibility.

Ex-SHIELD agent and Avenger, Lilith Lenore, is hiding from her past, shunning the life she once led. But when an offer from a wizard of another world is extended, she cannot refuse.

Chapter 6: Blunt the Knives

Dinner with dwarves was an experience. Despite the plates, cups, and cutlery they’d set the table with, most of them opted for pulling food directly from the table and shoveling it into their mouth, sans utensils. Rolls, potatoes, and cuts of meat flew from each end of the table as they took turns catching things in their mouths, roaring with laughter at each miss and cheering at each success. Between bites they washed the half chewed food down with ale. They drank sloppily and it spilled down their beards and onto their laps. It was a raucous, rowdy mess. I should have probably found it more off putting than I did. Instead, I found myself giggling at first, and later laughing loudly right along with them. Despite their lack of table manners, their joy was contagious. Their antics proved to be amusing, rather than annoying. 

I’d been seated at the table beside Kili, and in addition to the distractions of the dwarves I’d also been plagued with questions from him about myself and where I was from. I had become a very guarded person over the years. With my past in particular, I often found it necessary to put up walls. It made things easier, not allowing myself to have connections or relationships. I was surprised at how quickly Kili was able to break the ice and make me feel at ease. I’d always been hesitant to bond with anyone, and the few friends I did make back home had clawed their way past my walls and into my innermost being. Within only a few hours, the young dwarf had charmed me with his wit and humor. I found myself entirely engrossed in our conversation. 

“So by far away, you really mean-” He started.

“Far, far away.” I confirmed, laughing. I’d just finished explaining the concept of my universe existing in an alternate timeline as theirs to the best of my ability. He seemed to understand, but he was also a bit intoxicated so I couldn’t be sure. Regardless he nodded along as I explained, seeming fascinated by the tales of a far away land.

I wasn’t entirely sure how much detail I was supposed to give. I didn’t know if divulging the secrets of the universe to people who had no idea it existed so far beyond their own world would cause issues. But Gandalf had not told me otherwise, and Kili was hard to say no to.

“And Gandalf brought you all the way here? To help us?” 

I nodded.

“It appears so.” 

He put a hand over his heart, feigning shock. 

“I’m truly honored, Lady Lilith. A visitor from another realm, come to help us lowly dwarves.” His stoney face broke instantly, his true grin cracking through his attempt at being serious. He giggled despite his best effort to mask it, and I found myself giggling along with him. I could tell he was getting tipsy, although not quite as sloppy drunk as some of the other dwarves at the table were. 

He cleared his throat and switched back to a rigid face, his lips twitching at the corners with a grin that desperately wanted to break through. 

“But,” he continued, trying his best to keep the serious expression. “I’m afraid I have to ask for your qualifications, miss. What exactly makes you worthy to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield?” 

“Ah, lets see.” I started, twirling my empty mug around the end of my finger. “I’ve saved my own world at least six times that I can count. Stopped the Chitauri from absolutely wasting New York City. Fought a tyrannical robot and his army. Went back in time and stopped a madman from outer space from wiping out half of the universe. I can go on.” 

He sat in silence for a moment, expressionless. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t believe me, didn’t understand, or just didn’t know what to make of it all. 

“I haven’t the slightest clue what any of that means.” He said finally, his giggles breaking through as he allowed a toothy grin to form once again. 

I felt the corners of my own lips begin to turn up in response. It was nearly impossible for me to get drunk, thanks to the serum. I’d begun to feel the faintest buzz after my third glass. If the ale was strong enough to have an effect on me, I could understand why most of the dwarves were falling off of their chairs after a few drinks. I was grateful for the small amount of confidence it had given me in this unfamiliar world. 

“Well which part interests you the most?” I asked, setting my glass down on the table and turning my body fully to face him. “I will do my best to explain.” 

“The shit- chit- the chittery?” 

“Chitauri.” I corrected, emphasizing the pronunciation.

“Right, start there.” 

“WHO WANTS AN ALE?” 

Fili stood at the end of the table, with several overflowing mugs in his hands. The dwarves around me began holding up their hands, reaching out for him to give them a glass. I looked down at my empty mug, debating whether or not I needed another. Despite the faint buzz I was feeling, I knew it wouldn’t last. Steve and I had often attempted to test the limits while we were bored and on the run, and we’d only succeeded in getting truly intoxicated once. Even then, it was only after we’d nearly wiped out a pub’s liquor supply. One more couldn’t hurt. 

I raised my hand as well, and Fili’s face lit up in response. 

“Alright lass, coming right up.” 

I expected him to walk around the table, or pass the glass down the line of dwarves toward me. Instead he hopped up on the tabletop, stepping around the mugs and overflowing platters of food to tiptoe to where I sat.

“‘Ere you are.” He said, handing me the glass. 

As I took it from his outstretched hand he leaned in and smashed his own mug into mine, spilling ale across the table and all over the dwarves beside me. He tipped his glass back and began to down the entire thing, still standing atop the table in front of me. I looked at Kili and shrugged before following suit, downing my entire glass as well. Fili and I finished at the same time and I heard Kili and the other dwarves cheer in encouragement.

After giving Kili my best explanation as to what the Chitauri were and how we’d defeated them, I stood from the table and began to gather a few empty mugs, plates, and other dishes. Bilbo had calmed down somewhat, but he still paced nervously in the entry rather than coming to sit and enjoy dinner with the rest of us. I hoped by straightening up a bit I could put him at ease. 

Bilbo’s kitchen was just as cozy, and impossibly small, as the rest of the home was. I ducked my head to avoid smashing into the threshold as I crossed to the sink and began rinsing off the dishes. 

“We’re a bit much, aren’t we?” 

I whirled around in search of the voice, and found Kili standing in the doorway. He was smiling at me, holding his own empty mugs and dishes. 

“It’s not you guys.” I assured him as he crossed the room and handed them to me. “I’ve spent most of this year alone. It’s strange to be around so many people at once. But it’s been nice.” I gave him a reassuring smile in return. 

“Why have you been alone?” He questioned. He took a clean plate from my hands and began using one of Bilbo’s decorative towels to pat it dry. 

“It was a choice.” 

He stared at me curiously. 

“It’s a long story.” I continued. 

His expression turned back into a grin. 

“Longer than the ones you’ve already told me?”

I nodded. 

“Well, lucky for us we have a long journey ahead.” He reached for another dish. “We’ll have lots to talk about.” 

As I handed him another plate his hand brushed against mine. I felt his fingers linger for a moment, and I looked over to find his gaze locked on me. He was watching me intently. The intensity of his stare felt as though he were looking through me, looking for the real Lilith underneath the hardened exterior I liked to portray. I felt myself locked in as well, studying his features as we stood less than a foot apart. His eyes wandered from my eyes down over the rest of my face, and I felt myself snap back to reality. As much as I’d enjoyed his company so far, I wouldn’t be in Middle Earth forever. I had come for a reason, and I couldn’t allow myself to get sidetracked. No matter how tempting it was. I looked away quickly and turned my attention back to the bowl in my hands.

“So, you’re 77 huh?” I asked, changing the subject.

I saw his playful smile return out of the corner of my eye. He gathered an armful of clean dishes and turned away from me, moving over to the hutch in the corner that stored Bilbo’s finest China.

“I am. How about you?” He questioned in return.

“Thirty two.” I answered.

“Human?”

“More or less.” I teased, glancing over my shoulder to watch his expression.

His eyes widened.

“Is that included in one of these long stories?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well I quite look forward to hearing it.” 

“Kili, catch!” 

We both turned around just in time to see Fili sling a plate down the hallway. Kili caught it with ease, clearly having done this with his brother before, and effortlessly tossed it to me. I caught it delicately, aware of Bilbo’s watchful eye, and stacked it in the sink. As they juggled dishes between themselves and continued tossing them to me I heard the dwarves begin to sing. 

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks…” 

Dishes continued flying through the doorway, bouncing from Fili’s to Kili’s skilled hands and then into mine. I kept one eye on the nervous hobbit in the corner of the room, offering a sympathetic smile, and the other focused on catching each item that came sailing through the air.

“THAT’S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!”

The song came to an end as the final dish glided into my hands, and I heard the dwarves erupt into laughter from the dining room. I shook my head, laughing as well as I began rinsing off the remaining plates and cutlery. 

“Is this how a dwarf event usually goes?” I asked Kili as he came back to stand beside me at the sink. 

“More or less-”

He was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. I heard silence fall as the dwarves' laughter came to an abrupt halt, and Kili’s face suddenly shifted. 

“He’s here.”

[pauliesshoredom]

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[sunnydaleherald]

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[very-feral-lesbian]

sometimes im three hours deep into a slowburn fanfic and im like…. maybe i should stop.

but like, why would i? its fun