#in my head Charity just had to save her after seeing that

[ro-is-struggling]

His || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: Geralt takes pity on a family of farmers in an isolated village surrounded by misfortune. After saving them from the clutches of a beast, the head of the family proposes to pay the witcher for his services by offering him the hand of his only daughter in marriage. He does not want to accept it at first —the life of a witcher was incompatible with the concept of marriage—, but after getting to know the young lady better and understanding the cruel fate that awaited her if he did not intervene, Geralt feels the need to protect her

Warnings: fem!reader, arranged marriage (kinda), protective and possessive Geralt (let’s gooo), a bit of angst, mentions of scars (both Geralt’s and the reader’s), fluff, SMUT MINORS DNI, inexperienced reader, loss of virginity (not realistic), porn with feelings (or at least I tried), porn with plot, penetrative sex, possessive Geralt (yes, again), size kink, fingering, creampie, my obsession with Geralt’s thighs, pet names (dove), let me know if a forgot anything!! 

English is not my first language

Word count: 23.200 (I had fun, okay?)

Note: this fic is probably very inaccurate regarding the life of a farmer and the traditions of marriage in the witcher universe/medieval times, but if I researched that in depth this fic would never have seen the light of day lol I hope you don't mind.

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Geralt of Rivia was not known for working for free. Like all witchers, he made a living using the skills that had been instilled in him, killing monsters for a price and ridding the continent of evil beings. It was a noble cause, a tough job that someone had to do to ensure the welfare of the population. But that was all it was, just a job. He had learned the hard way that he was no hero or knight in shining armor. People didn't see him that way anyway, so it was stupid of him to try to be something he was not. His skills were not to be wasted on saving helpless women on the side of the road or on charity work, that much was clear to him. The people he saved were not going to give him recognition. They were not going to shower him with gifts and sing songs about his heroic deeds as they did with knights returning from battle because he was not a hero. People tended to see witchers as mutated freaks, but they recognized that, from time to time, they had a use for them. So he —and all of his kind— had to make sure to charge well for his services since that was the only thing people were willing to give him in return for his efforts. So Geralt did not work for free.

That's why when the residents of a small town he was passing through approached him for help he had to turn them down. They were troubled by disappearances and strange, brutal deaths that they could not explain. Some swore they saw a creature prowling in the night, growling and howling as it searched for its next victim, but no one knew what it was. However, the small town of farmers and craftsmen was not going through a good time financially speaking. A combination of bad weather and a plague had ruined the crops, so they didn't have much money to spend.

“If you want gold you should go talk to Lord Veldren, he's taking from us what little we have,” was the answer Geralt was usually given when the subject of payment came up in conversation. It was nothing he had not heard before, nobles who did not tighten the pockets of their people were few. But there was a pain in the eyes of the villagers, an anger in their voices as they spoke, that caught Geralt's attention. He wondered what kind of things this Lord Veldren would do to evoke such a reaction in the people.

There was one particular family of farmers that caught his attention. A weeping woman begged for the life of her eldest son who had been taken by the beast. According to her tales, the people, tired of being harassed and intimidated by the creature, organized to do the work that their Lord refused to do. The bravest and most skilled men of all the families went out to hunt it under the light of the full moon and that was the last time they were seen alive. Parts of the remains were still turning up around the village and discovered lost among the crops, although damaged beyond recognition. Many of the families did not have a body to bury and that was part of the reason they were all so shaken. They had lost husbands, sons, friends and protectors that night and it had all been for nothing.

The woman wept in the arms of her husband who did his best to contain her, but even he was unable to hide the sadness that overwhelmed him. There was something in her grief that struck a chord deep inside Geralt. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't feel right going through town and leaving them behind with their suffering. So, as they had no money to pay for his services, he took the villagers' concerns directly to Lord Veldren. They had told him that he was aware of the problem, but had no desire to do anything about it. But maybe things would be different now that Geralt was there. Maybe the Lord's whole problem was that he didn't want to get his hands dirty and would rather let his people die than risk his own skin. But now that the witcher was there to do his dirty work for him maybe his predisposition would be different.

No one in the village had much faith that it would work, but they showed Geralt how to get to him. Some even walked with him, taking advantage of the moment to tell him as much detail as they could about the danger they were in. Some of their stories the witcher could attribute to the collective panic that had taken hold of the town since some of them were things that he, in all his years of experience, had never heard of. But others helped him compile a list of possible responsible creatures, which grew smaller and smaller with each story he heard.

When he reached his destination, Geralt wished he had listened to the villagers' warnings. He knew his share of rude and unwise nobles, but none compared to Lord Veldren. He barely looked at him for the entirety of their meeting —which was not long— as if to lay eyes on him was a privilege the witcher did not deserve. Nor did he let him speak for long, barely getting as far as presenting the problem before Lord Veldren was shooing him away with an expression of disinterest on his face.

“It's interesting that you're the one presenting the problem,” he said in an accusatory tone when Geralt insisted on the danger to the villagers. “You're a witcher who kills beasts for a living. All you want is to fill your pockets with MY riches.”

“You, my Lord, surely must know that this problem has existed long before I passed through your lands.” Geralt spat through gritted teeth, clinging to what little thread of patience he had left. “You must have noticed that your people are dying at an alarmingly rapid rate.”

“There have been pests affecting the crops, probably bringing disease. It's being taken care of, not that I owe you any kind of explanation.” The disdain in Veldren's voice was evident which made Geralt's blood boil.

“It's a werewolf. And it's not going to stop until someone makes it stop. If you don't do something, your people will keep dying.”

“Why don't you let me worry about my people, witcher. You go find some other fool to steal their riches from. My people are fine.”

“That's not what the corpses piling up next to the dead crops say.”

“There are always more people. Nothing is lost that can't be replaced. Now you get out of here and don't come back or you'll regret the consequences.”

Geralt didn't stay to argue with Lord Veldren for another second, he knew it was a waste of time. He was not going to change his mind and was willing to let his people die just so he wouldn't have to back down. However, Geralt had changed his mind after their short conversation. The moment he turned around he knew he would return to the village to help the farmers free of charge. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because he knew that it would piss Veldren off more than anything. Geralt was not afraid of retaliation. He had no issue with avoiding that town in the future should he be banished.  He liked to take the long way around anyway.

Geralt stumbled into the modest hut of the family of the farmer whose eldest son had died trying to protect his people. They had offered to give him food and shelter while he prepared for the fight with the beast, and a place to rest after the task was complete. So once he was sure the monster was dead, he set out on his way back to their farm.

The older woman ran to him when she saw his condition. He was bloody and beaten. The beast had put up a good fight, but had ultimately failed to withstand the courage of the witcher and his silver sword. However, it had left Geralt with a fair amount of wounds, nothing that wouldn't heal with some rest, but serious enough to scare the poor woman as she saw him come through the door. She and one of her sons helped him sit up, while her husband, at her request, went to get some water —both for him to drink and to clean his wounds.

“It's done.” Geralt said as he finally allowed himself to relax.

The woman let out an exclamation of relief, passing him a glass of water as she mumbled something to herself. He couldn't catch it all, but from what he could make out she was speaking to her son's spirit, asking him to be at peace now that his family was safe. It was then that Geralt remembered the discovery he had made in his search for the beast. With some pain he brought his hand to his neck and tugged at one of the two chains around his neck. He took the woman's hand before she could move away from him and placed the object he knew belonged to her son in her palm. The woman looked at him in confusion until her eyes lowered to her hand and met the medallion resting in it.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Geralt spoke in a soft tone as he saw the tears beginning to roll down the woman's cheeks. He had found the medallion among bloody and rotting remains and knew immediately that he was in front of what was left of the son of the couple because his father wore the same necklace around his neck.

In tears the woman thanked him, repeating the words over and over again as she clutched the chain in her hand and held it to her chest at the level of her heart. She hugged her husband, who held her close and repeated the same praises to the witcher. Since they had no body to bury, retrieving such a significant object from their son was the next best thing to finding some sort of closure. It was something of his to remember him by and honor him for his bravery. It put an end to any doubt fueled by hope and allowed them to move on with their lives.

“I don't know how we can ever repay you.” The man spoke with tears in his eyes.

“I don't need anything. The shelter and food you provided me so far is payment enough.”

“You have given us too much, more than we could ask for. I cannot let this debt go unpaid.” The man insisted, his prideful side coming out. “We are not a family of great wealth, but we have honor. Integrity and the value of our word is all we have. I cannot offer you gold, but I can give you the hand of my only daughter in marriage.”

Geralt's eyes shot upward, momentarily forgetting the leg wound he was studying to look the farmer in the eye. “I didn't do this to get something in return. You don't have to offer me anything.”

“Please, witcher, I'm afraid I must insist. I could not go through life knowing that I owe such a great debt. You have not only saved my family, you have avenged my son's death and brought him home. I cannot allow you to leave this house empty-handed.”

“I assure you that our daughter is well educated in the arts of being a homemaker.” The woman interjected, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. “She has a perfect understanding of how to build and care for a home and a husband. She's been helping me since I was a little girl in preparation for this moment.”

Geralt didn't know how to explain to the sweet couple that he wasn't looking for a wife. Witchers were destined to live solitary lives. Their life mission was not compatible with a family. They had been strategically designed not to be able to leave offspring and no woman would want to be with such a man. The only family they had were the fellow witchers, with whom they met every winter to rest, replenish elixirs and exchange stories of the road. They led dangerous and transient lives, plagued by monsters and uncertainty. There was no place for love or relationships, much less with human women that were not trained in the combat of evil.

“I'm sure that's the case,” Geralt cleared his throat as he searched for the right words to explain the reason for his rejection. “But I'm afraid my life is not compatible with married life.”

“Please, if you won't take her it's only a matter of time until Lord Veldren does.” The woman insisted, desperation evident in her voice. “I know that may sound like a good thing to many people, but not to us. He is an evil man and I would rather my family perish than have to give my daughter to him.”

“I–”

“I can be of service to you.” The sound of a soft, sweet voice echoed in the distance. Geralt followed it, and it was then that his eyes collided with the figure of a young woman emerging from the stairs.

The first thing Geralt noticed, besides your beauty, was the resemblance you bore to your mother. Seeing the two of you side by side was like holding a mirror up to the past. Your features, although modified by the passage of time in the case of your mother, were almost the same. You had the same cheekbones and the same smile, although you differed in one aspect: your eyes. Although they were sweet like your mother's, they were charged with a bravery and ferocity that the older woman did not have. You held his gaze at all times, holding your head high in a proud manner. Your attitude caught Geralt's attention immediately since you were not at all what he expected. He had heard the family speak of you from time to time, but the image he had created in his mind about you from such tales was nothing like the person who was staring back at him at that very moment.

“I have spent most of my days accompanying the village healer, so I can heal your wounds after your battles.” You spoke once again. The politeness in your voice and the smoothness of your movements contradicted the fire in your eyes, which only added to Geralt's curiosity. “If you don't mind, I could show you my skills right now so you can see that I'm not lying.”

Geralt remained silent, but motioned for you to proceed. You walked towards him with a firm step, clutching in your hands the leather bag where you kept ointments, herbs and other medicinal items. You settled on a chair in front of him and after receiving his consent once again, you very carefully  examined some of the cuts he had on his arms and face. It was nothing too serious, they just needed a cleaning and perhaps the help of some ointments to treat the irritated skin. Only one cut on his shoulder seemed to need stitches and maybe one on his leg as well. It was nothing you hadn't already dealt with, so you would have no problem treating it and demonstrating your skills.

You asked your family for some space to work and they kindly left you the room to be alone with Geralt. Only then you began to clean his wounds, carefully wiping his skin with a wet cloth to remove the blood and dirt from the irritated areas. He watched you work in silence, admiring you with a puzzled expression. You intrigued him in a way that no human had done for a long time. He was waiting patiently for the moment when you decided to talk to him and slowly reveal a little more about yourself so he could understand what it was about you that he found so intriguing.

“You don't have to do this.” Geralt broke the silence after a few minutes of waiting to hear your voice. “It'll probably be healed by morning.”

“The witcher genes, I know... but a little help can't hurt, right?” You gave him a smile and when you looked up to meet his gaze, he noticed that the fire in your eyes had softened, mixed with a hint of sweetness.

“You don't have to prove anything to me. I don't need any payment for my work.”

“My father is a very proud man, Geralt. He will not be comfortable letting you go without payment for your services.”

“And I will not be comfortable dragging a young woman like you into the life of a witcher.” He placed his hand over yours to force you to stop your actions and draw your attention to his face. Your hand was trapped between his leg and the touch of his calloused fingers. “Life on the road is not one for a beautiful lady such as you. And I am not a man worthy of marriage.”

Geralt's voice was soft as he spoke, he wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you with his rejection. There was nothing wrong with you and he was sure that someday you would find a good man worthy of your hand. But he was not that man. He was not husband material and his life was not compatible with marriage. Perhaps if things had been different and Vesemir had not found him he could have had a taste of that life. But the mission to eradicate the monsters on the continent had been entrusted to him and he couldn't turn it down for a woman, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You must forgive me,” you muttered, feeling small under the witcher's intense gaze. You released your hand from his grip and hurried to grab the items needed to close the wound on his leg. “I was the one who put that idea in my father's mind. I figured it was an easy way out...not many men would refuse such a payment, but I guess I was wrong.” You gave him a shy smile before lowering your gaze to his leg once more to begin stitching the skin together with thread and needle. He didn't even flinch as the metal pierced him and you wondered how high was the level of pain tolerance of people like him.

“Lord Veldren, huh?” You knew from the tone he used when he spoke that Geralt understood the predicament you were in.

“He's quite a character, isn't he?” you let out a frustrated sigh. “He's made his interest in me pretty clear, but he knows it's not reciprocated, so he's been harassing my family to make sure he gets what he wants. Times are tough and he's not making it any easier. He's been creating ridiculous rules to raise taxes, chasing my brothers around town, sending me letters and gifts in hopes of winning me over... He's trying to back us into a corner. It is only a matter of time until we are forced to leave our lands or... I am forced to accept his proposal.”

After securing the last stitch, you spread some of the antibacterial ointment the village healer had taught you to prepare on the skin of his thigh. Your movements were slow and gentle even though you were pretty sure that Geralt wouldn't feel much pain if it were different. And once that wound was healed, you then moved over to the cut on his shoulder. You drew your chair a little closer to him so that you could reach the area more comfortably, and asked his permission to pull his shirt up. You felt your face heat up as you watched his fingers work on the buttons to expose his chest and allow you to work more comfortably. You tried to focus your gaze on his wound and only his wound, although you were a little distracted by counting the scars that adorned the skin of his chest.

“Why do you think he's so interested in you?” The question escaped Geralt's lips before he could stop himself. It was in no way a comment on you as a person. Your beauty alone was reason enough to justify any man's interest in taking your hand. But he had to admit that it was unusual for a man of nobility to seek to court a farm girl, much less someone like Lord Veldren. He was someone who craved power and wealth, so it would make much more sense for him to seek to marry someone of his own social standing.

“Because he is insecure and he loves nothing more than making people feel small to aggrandize his figure.” You said as if it were obvious, letting out a dry chuckle as your fingers delicately traced the irritated skin of the witcher's shoulder.

Geralt couldn't help but agree with you. The few minutes he shared with Lord Veldren were enough to recognize that his ego was probably bigger than his riches.

“He inherited the title unexpectedly.” You continued to explain as you carefully secured the first stitch over the wound. Geralt did not utter a single complaint, but you still treated him with the tenderness you would treat any normal person. Just because he was used to blood and pain didn't mean he didn't deserve a soft, tender touch now and then. Especially after he had risked his life to save yours and that of your entire village. And as you worked you explained to him what you knew about Lord Veldren's history.

He had only come to the village after a long search for extended family members of Lord Eldrake, who perished with his son in a tragic hunting accident. He was a distant cousin who lived far away not only physically, but also metaphorically. Veldren had grown up far removed from the riches and customs of the nobility, which showed in the way he imposed his power. He was not wise or cultured, he did not have good manners or a proper grasp of protocols. He only cared about himself, his new found power, and increasing his wealth with no regard for who he hurt along the way. Since he had arrived he had done nothing but squeeze every coin he could from the people, leaving them with just enough to survive. And his hand did not tremble when it came to punishing those who voiced their complaints.

Lord Veldren was a horrible man who was not prepared to fill the role that had fallen into his hands in a stroke of luck. And for you there laid the reason for his interest in you. Marrying into a noble family would mean exposing his incompetence. For now, as things stood, he was completely on his own to do and dispose as he wished, but marrying a noblewoman would mean being challenged. And his ego would not be able to tolerate such a thing. You, on the other hand, were someone he could easily manipulate to please. He held your family's future in his hands and he knew very well that you knew it. He was using them to get to you and it was clear that he would continue to do so to keep you under his control. Lord Veldren was obsessed with you not because of your beauty or your ability to maintain a home —as he often said in his letters— but because you did not present a threat to his ego.

“I know marrying a nobleman coming from a peasant family sounds like a dream come true, but it's not for me.” You muttered sadly as you finished bandaging the witcher's wound. “I always dreamed of marrying for love... but now I don't think that's possible. That's why I thought you were a good candidate. You are honorable and protective, he wouldn't come after you. You could take me away from here or be enough of a threat to force Lord Veldren to leave me alone.”

Geralt could feel your sadness just by looking into your eyes. A light shone in your eyes at the mention of love, the hope of having the life you wanted still alive somewhere in you. However, he had to watch it die quickly, crushed by the devastating reality in which you lived. It was a sad thing to see, but there was nothing he could do to help you. With a bit of luck on your side maybe he could get Lord Veldren to forget about you, but that was far from being the solution to the problem. You would still be trapped in a life you didn't want, married to someone you didn't love. Accepting your hand in marriage as payment for his services would only change the face of your misfortune. He could save your family, but he would become the executioner condemning you to a future of unhappiness. And he was not willing to be such a thing. It was none of his business whether or not to save the lives of maidens who were being threatened by monsters not born of magic. It never ended well and Geralt had no doubt that this would be no exception. Married or unmarried, happy or unhappy, it shouldn't matter to him because he had no reason to interfere.

“Marrying me wouldn't change things. You would only be tying yourself to a different kind of miserable future with a man you don't love. There is still time, you can still find love.”

The last thing Geralt wanted was to hurt you with his rejection. You and your family had been through a lot and he didn't want you to worry thinking that there was something wrong with you that led him to refuse such payment for his services. He knew that you would make an excellent wife someday and that was exactly why he could not take your hand. You deserved to marry for love, as you so desperately wanted, and live a good life with a man who deserved you. And unfortunately he was not that man.

“I'd rather it be you than him.” You looked at him with wide eyes full of despair. “My time is up. You are my last chance to escape him.”

“You must understand that my life is no life for a married man.” Geralt reached for your hand. He took it between his own, his thumb caressing your smooth skin with small circular motions in the hope that it would help soften the blow of his rejection. Your eyes focused on his grip for a moment, admiring the way his hands completely enveloped yours making you feel small and insignificant next to him. Looking up you met a pair of amber eyes that looked at you full of softness in them. “I live on the road, traveling from place to place in search of dangerous beasts. That's no place for a sweet woman like you.”

“I am not a porcelain doll that must be carefully cared for to keep from shattering. I can travel with you. I have traveled many times in my life, even accompanied my brothers on hunting trips. I know how to handle myself in the wilderness.”

“Being a witcher is not like hunting a deer. It's dangerous, especially for untrained humans. You can get seriously hurt if you travel with me.”

“Then you can marry me and go on with your journey!” you raised your voice, feeling frustrated with Geralt's excuses. You pulled your hand away from his suddenly, putting distance between the two of you.

He didn't understand. How could he? He had nothing to fear. He was a fierce witcher who had faced who knows how many beasts in his life and emerged victorious. He would never understand the guilt that ate at you as you watched your family struggling to make ends meet knowing it was your fault. He would never understand the fear of being trapped in a future without love or hope, forced to be the object of desire of a cruel and evil man. Geralt was strong and powerful to the point that you doubted he had ever felt small and helpless, so of course he would not be able to understand your despair.

“You would not have to see me again if you so desired. You could leave right after the ceremony and never come back if that's what you wanted, I don't care. All I need is a ring on my finger that will keep Veldren away from me and my family.”

“And you'll be condemned to live married to a ghost?”

“If that's what it takes! I'm willing to live a life of solitude if it means my family is safe... it beats being the object of desire of the most disgusting man I've ever met.”

From the look Geralt gave you, you know that he feels sorry for you. You can read in his eyes how bad he feels for you, how sad he finds your words and even the relief he feels knowing that he will never be subjected to a similar situation. And you hated it almost as much as you hated having to cry and beg him to agree to marry you. It was embarrassing and humiliating, but it was your last resort. Marrying Geralt was the best possible way out of your predicament. If he didn't want to share his life with you he could easily leave and not come back and it still wouldn't be suspicious given what he did for a living. You would have to stage things from time to time to keep up appearances over time, but even so you doubted that Veldren would dare to challenge someone with Geralt's reputation. You'd be doomed to a life without love, but at least you'd be free.

“I know I'm asking a lot.” Your voice broke the silence that fell over the room. It was softer this time, a reflection of the effort you were making to quiet your frustrations. After all, it wasn't Geralt's fault that you were trapped in this situation and he had every right to refuse to accept your hand as payment. You hoped you could appeal to his kindness. “I just want you to think about it. You don't have to decide anything now. You can stay here for as long as you need to get back on your feet, we'll provide shelter and food no matter what you decide. It's the least we can do after all you've done for us. I just... You are my last hope to escape from him, so please think about it. Please know that I am willing to be a good wife and serve you in any way you see fit, or give you the freedom to move on with your life if you wish. Nothing would change for you as I understand from your words that you do not intend to marry in the near future, but you would be improving my life.”

Geralt remained silent watching you disappear up the stairs as he seriously considered your last words.

The more time Geralt spent with you and your family, the less confident he became in his decision. He initially intended to spend only a couple of days with you, just enough time for him and Roach to rest after the long and tumultuous journey they had made to get there. But the more time he spent at your home, the more difficult it became for him to leave you.

It was one thing to hear them talk about the hardships they were going through because of Lord Veldren, but it was very different to see it happen with his own eyes. In the short time that Geralt had been living with you the tax collector had passed by your home multiple times, always with a new complaint and a threat to go with it. There was no doubt that Veldren was the one behind it. They were, for the most part, empty threats designed to pressure them, but they were no less effective for that. They knew he wasn't really going to evict or imprison them because if he did it was game over. Ultimately, what Veldren wanted was not to make an example of your family, but to force you to give in to his demands. However, they were all well aware that it was only a matter of time before he got tired and decided to deliver on his threats. So they woke up every morning fearing that this was the day he would finally decide he had had enough and leave them in ruins over a mere whim.

Geralt tried to help them in any way he could. He had offered to help with the harvest and had even gone hunting a couple of times to save them from having to go to the market for food. However, they were a very proud family who were treating him as an honored guest so he was not allowed to do much. He found that the best way to contribute to them was to collect some favors from the people in town. Everyone talked about him as if he was a hero. They would greet him in the street and thank him for his work. They sought him out to hear his stories and composed songs about what he had done that night. Being the town hero, many people found that the best way to thank him for his bravery —since they had no coin to pay him— was to give him some of what he produced. In this way he was able to provide your family with a varied catalog of things ranging from fur coats to cattle for slaughter.

Geralt knew that what he was doing was wrong. He was getting too attached to your family, making things personal. He would be lying if he said his hatred for Veldren hadn't grown in the last few days. More than once he had thought of sneaking into his home to end his life and finish the suffering of your family and the whole town. But that was wrong. He was not supposed to intervene in mundane matters between humans. His mission was very simple: to eradicate evil beings born of magic. Human affairs —politics, war, even love— were not his concern.

He knew he had to leave before things got worse, but he didn't want to face what would come with his departure. He didn't want to face you and say goodbye forever because he was no longer completely sure that was the best option. In the last few days he had spent quite a bit of time with you. He noticed that you didn't leave the house much so he took advantage of the time to get to know you better. He thought it would help him stand firm in his decision, but it had done nothing but show him what a sweet and brave woman you were. A woman who didn't deserve to spend the rest of her life next to that disgusting man Veldren.

The words you had said to him that night always echoed in his mind before he fell asleep. The voice of reason told him that it was ridiculous to even consider the idea of taking your hand in marriage. Witchers were not meant to settle down and marry. Besides, accepting your proposal would, at best, condemn you to a life of misery —or an early death at worst. And yet, there was always this voice in the back of his mind. It wasn't powerful, but it would present itself just as he was about to fall asleep. It was the last thing he thought about at night and the first thing he remembered in the morning. That voice that said, “What if you tried? And one day, as he admired the way you groomed and cared for Roach in the barn, he seriously considered listening to that voice in his mind. And that's when he knew it was time to leave.

He decided to do it at night, after the family had gone to bed. It was not the honorable thing to do, but it was the only option that would allow him to get out of there without altering his life forever. Geralt was afraid to face you. He was afraid to look you in the eye and not be able to reject you. He was afraid to say goodbye and feel the weight of guilt increase with every step he took. Guilt for sealing your fate. Guilt for leaving you no choice but to surrender yourself to Lord Veldren's arms for the rest of your life. He kept telling himself that he was not to blame for any of it, that it was not his duty to intervene to fix anyone's life, but he believed it less and less with each passing day. So he gathered his things, took Roach from the stable and set off on his way out of town with the darkness of the night as his ally.

However, fate seemed to have other plans for him.

Geralt walked at a slow pace alongside Roach. The road leading out of town, which normally had people coming and going, was quiet. All that could be heard were Roach's footsteps in the dirt and the sound of the river flowing peacefully. It was a beautiful sight, the moonlight, the trees and flowers painted in the crystal reflection of the water creating a composition worthy of admiration. However, his eyes lost interest in such a beautiful sight when they came across the figure of a woman dipping her feet in the riverbank. She was humming under her breath, the sound traveling to his ears on the night breeze. He knew then that it was not just any young woman there, but the one he was trying to avoid.

He found it strange that you were there alone. It was late and the last he had heard you say was that you were retiring to rest. He hadn't heard you sneaking out of the house and neither did he understand why you were doing it. In the time Geralt had spent there, he noticed that you didn't get out of the house much, not even to stroll through the market like most of the women seemed to do in this town. You spent your time tending the crops and caring for the few animals they had. He had assumed that it was because you enjoyed the warmth of your home, but now he was beginning to doubt it. You looked so free and happy as you walked along the riverbank, the ruffles on your dress blowing in the wind, the fabric clinging to your body. Amused laughter escaped your lips every time the water made contact with your skin, splashing with joy and wetting the hem of your dress.

The woman who stood before him was totally different from the one Geralt knew. He had never seen you like this, so... free and full of life. You looked almost ethereal dancing in the moonlight, accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the splashing of water beneath your feet. A peak of glowing light that pulled him to you like flames to moths. Roach protested when he went out of his way to approach you, but Geralt ignored her. He pulled on the reins lightly to force the horse to move and knotted them in a tree to make sure she didn't escape.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

Geralt's voice startled you. You turned your head to look at him, feeling embarrassed at being caught acting foolish thinking you were alone. There was no mockery in his expression, but your cheeks warmed anyway. What you did notice in his gaze was a hint of guilt that you only understood when you saw Roach waiting for him a couple of feet away.

“You're leaving...” You muttered with a bit of sadness in your voice. He was sneaking away, under the darkness of the night and without saying goodbye to anyone. And that could only mean one thing: he was rejecting your father's offer.

“You shouldn't be here alone so late.” Geralt decided to ignore you since it was the easiest thing to do. He wasn't proud of what he was doing, but he knew it was for the best.

“This is honestly safer than going out in the daytime.” You shrugged, moving away from the water to sit on the shore. You buried your wet feet in the dirt, feeling the small grains slipping through your toes as you wiggled them. “I used to love visiting the market with my mother and playing with the children in the town square... but I can't do that anymore without being watched by Veldren's men... sometimes even he shows up himself... So I stopped going. I focused on my home, on helping my family as much as I could... And I slowly stopped going out, stopped socializing with people other than my immediate neighbors. I thought that maybe if he stopped seeing me so often he would get bored of me and focus his attention on another young girl... but now I'm not so sure that's going to happen.”

You wrapped your arms around your knees, making yourself small as you thought of all you had lost because of that man. And you wondered how much more you had to lose. Your freedom and happiness didn't seem to be enough. Your family and your land were still on the line, and if you ended up accepting his proposal, so was your ability to decide about your own future. It wasn't fair.

Geralt looked down at you for a moment, admiring the way the moonlight reflected on your face. It added a layer of sadness to your expression, a vulnerability he hadn't seen in you before. You looked like a doll made of porcelain, fragile and beautiful, in need of care and protection. He felt the need to hold you, but restrained himself. Instead, he sat by your side offering you a friendly ear to listen to your misfortunes.

“Night is the only time I can be free. The moon is my only friend, the faithful confidant of all my secrets.” You went on, your eyes lost in the movement of the water. “I can escape the four-walled prison and wander around the village, enjoy the scenery and the fresh air without being watched and having every step I take reported back to him.” There was poison in your voice at the mention of Lord Veldren and you hadn't even said his name. “I suppose I have you to thank for that too... The night was no longer safe, but you gave me back my freedom by slaying that beast.”

You turned to look at him and Geralt noticed the tears pooling in your eyes. They glistened under the moonlight just like the water of the lake reflected it, highlighting the beautiful color of your eyes. They threatened to escape, but out of sheer determination you were able to hold them in place. You were not going to let the last image he had of you be of your crying face. You didn't want to cause him to feel sorry for you. You didn't want him to think it was a trick to get him to stay. He had done enough for you and your family, you couldn't ask him for anything more.

“I wish you the best of luck in your life, Geralt, and I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you... You must leave this place knowing that you helped a lot of people, myself included.” You gave him a smile, a subtle way of letting him know you agreed with his decision. “Although I'm not going to lie to you, I would like to see you again...only perhaps under less tragic circumstances.”

“I'm afraid tragic circumstances are my specialty.” The corner of his lips curved slightly into a sad smile, his gaze momentarily lost, and you wondered what thoughts might be going through his head. “But I'd like to make my way back here someday.”

“You will always be welcome in this town...and you will always have a place to stay. My family and I aren't going anywhere.”

You reached out a hand toward Geralt, daring to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen over his face and obstructed your view of his eyes. You had always found the yellowish hue in them mesmerizing, but somehow they looked even more beautiful under the moonlight. Perhaps it was the lack of light, but you felt they shone with a different intensity. It was like looking directly into the sun, beautiful but painful.

You let your fingers run down his temple until they reached his cheek, gently caressing one of the cuts you had helped him heal. It was nothing more than a line, just a shade lighter than the color of his skin, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know it was there, but you still felt it under your fingertips. You were going to miss him. You had grown accustomed to his presence in your home and you would be lying if you said you didn't like what you had learned about him. He was nothing like what people used to say about witchers, maybe a little quiet and grumpy, yes, but he was a noble and kind hearted man. He deserved to have a good life and you hoped he would find it beyond the borders of your town.

In that simple exchange of glances Geralt was able to read in your eyes the true meaning of your words. He saw the resignation and sadness hidden behind them, the courage and strength that he had noticed the first time he saw you. He understood then that you were willing to do anything to protect your family and that you were not going to let anyone or anything break you. It was inspiring, but tragic. The need to protect you grew stronger inside him, every fiber of his being asking him to stop you.

When you removed your hand from his face, Geralt met it halfway, holding it back so you couldn't move it too far away. Your gaze lowered, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you admired his fingers intertwined with yours. When your eyes met the shine of his again, you noticed that he had leaned toward you. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher, but that captivated you nevertheless. And suddenly, without even realizing what you were doing, you began to lean towards him as well.

It felt like you were in a trance, being pulled towards Geralt by some kind of magic hidden in his eyes. The air caught in your throat as you felt his nose brush against yours. Your heart raced as his gaze lowered to your mouth, lips parting instinctively, responding to his proximity. Geralt's half-open eyes met yours once again, looking at you with a clear question written in them. And you answered it the only way you could while trapped under that mesmerizing amber glow, pressing your lips against his.

It was a soft but quick kiss. Your lips barely pressed against Geralt's, moving with both hesitation and curiosity to explore the taste of his mouth. You were being cautious, like when you tested the temperature of the water in the lake with your fingers before diving in. You were dipping your toes into the turbulent ocean of uncertainty that was Geralt to see how far you could go.

You pulled away from him after a few seconds, feeling embarrassed by your boldness and how much you were enjoying feeling the caress of his lips on yours. However, Geralt didn't let you pull away too far. His hand came up to your jaw, gripping the side of your face gently to hold you in place. His calloused fingers awakened a warm tingling under your skin, managing to slightly accelerate your heartbeat. His breath mingled with yours and his eyes looked at you with a softness you hadn't noticed in them before.

Geralt could feel the change in your breathing and sense the quickening of your heart in the veins of your neck filled with anticipation. He tried to resist your charms, but you looked at him with pleading eyes. Your tongue peeked between your parted lips, wetting your lower lip in an act of clear temptation. And he understood then that he was not as strong as he thought he was. He gave in to your silent pleas, joining his lips with yours again, though this time in a kiss charged with trust and desperation.

And in that moment, joined only by the moonlight and the chirping of crickets in the night, you both felt a spark. A connection with each other that you had never experienced before with another person. Your lips moved desperately, your hands clung to any part of exposed skin you could touch without crossing a line. You tangled your fingers in Geralt's long white hair, losing yourself in the warmth of his body. His right hand found its place on your cheek, using the advantage to move your head in the direction required to deepen the kiss. His other hand clung to your back, pressing you against his body until there was no more space separating the two of you.

You moaned as he sucked on your lower lip and the sound, though music to Geralt's ears, alerted him to what you were doing. He carefully pulled away from you, making a great effort to ignore your protests.

“We can't do this,” he whispered between gasps. “Not this way.”

“Yes we can...there's no one around to judge us. No one has to know.” You pushed your lips against Geralt's once more and he gave in for a moment before pulling away again. This time instead of whining you simply turned your attention to his neck, planting soft kisses down the column of his throat. If he wasn't going to make you his wife, he could at least treat you to a night of intimacy. That way at least you could choose the first man to give your body to.

“We should wait... for the wedding night.”

You stopped your actions as soon as you managed to process his words. Your head jumped up to look into his eyes, searching his expression for confirmation that you had heard correctly.

“That means...?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And we're going to do this right.”

Your eyes lit up with joy and hope, looking at Geralt with the admiration with which one looks at a knight returning after winning a great battle. You jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. You didn't know if he realized it, but he had just saved your life. And no matter how things turned out after your wedding, you would always be grateful to him for that.

The news was announced to your parents first thing in the morning and from that point on, preparations for the wedding didn't stop. It wasn't going to be a big event, just a ceremony with the close family to formalize the union. And you wanted it to be as quick as possible, not only to avoid delaying Geralt's departure for longer, but also because rumors of his heroic deeds had reached Lord Veldren's ears and you knew that couldn't be a good thing. The sooner you were married, the better it would be for everyone.

Your mother took on the responsibility of arranging everything, sending your father and brothers to get food and fabrics and the paperwork as well as the clergy's approval to perform the ceremony. And when she wasn't tidying the house or preparing floral arrangements, she took time to talk to you about marriage and what you could expect after the papers were signed. She spoke from her own experience and it was beautiful to see her eyes sparkle as she recalled her past, the happiness of the first moments of her marriage with your father and the arrival of her children into her life. But, as nice as it sounded, you weren't sure that was your destiny.

“You shouldn't get your hopes up so high, mother.” You sighed, watching her brush and fix your hair through the reflection of the mirror you were sitting in front of. In addition to arranging the ceremony, your mother had taken on the responsibility of helping you get ready for your big day. “I don't think that's the future that awaits me when I marry Geralt. He's just doing it as a favor.”

“You don't know that, honey. True love may still be in your destiny... You wouldn't be the first woman to find it long after the wedding day.” She smiled at you in the mirror before returning her attention to your hair, carefully braiding a strand.

“I don't even know if he'll stay after the deed is done... But that's okay, the whole point of this was to get Lord Veldren off our backs and marrying Geralt can do that, so I'm happy.”

“He can't leave after the ceremony, the marriage must be consummated.”

“Mother!” you let out a high-pitched whine, feeling blood pooling in your cheeks.

“I'm sorry, darling, but you are hours away from becoming a married woman, these are things I need to talk to you about.”

“I'd rather you didn't.”

“Your father and I made arrangements to visit your aunt across town for a few days. We'll leave after the ceremony so you two will have time to be alone and... figure out how to move forward. It's important, honey, that you take some time to think about the kind of woman you want to be, the kind of wife you want to be... and show him that he can find support in you, someone to grow together with. That's what a wife should be...what a marriage should be, a safe place you build as a couple. Your safe place.”

Your mother's eyes filled with tears and you immediately rose from your seat to hug her. You cherished every word, every piece of advice and word of encouragement she gave you and had given you in the last few days. Seeing her so emotional brought tears to your eyes as well, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to show her that she had taught you well. You wanted to make her proud of you, to build a marriage that would show everyone who knew you how well she had raised you, but you weren't sure you could do it.

Maybe under normal circumstances it wouldn't seem so far away. But there was nothing normal about the way you had arrived at this moment. You had thrown yourself into the arms of a kind stranger to escape the advances of a powerful but evil man. There was no love or deep connection between you and Geralt, only incompatible lives and mutual respect. There was a spark, the one you felt in your core when his lips touched yours, but you weren't sure it was enough to build a life with him. You supposed time would show you eventually.

“Thank you for everything, mother.” You mumbled through tears as you broke away from her embrace. “I don't know how the future will turn out, but I promise I will try my best every day to make you proud of me.”

“Oh, honey! I'm already proud of you.”

You hugged through sobs one more time until your mother called the moment over, pulling away from you as she wiped away your tears and scolded you for distracting her when you had so much to do. She proceeded to finish fixing your hair, braiding it into a nice half up half down hairstyle. You admired your reflection in the mirror, unable to believe that the woman looking back at you was you. You had never paid so much attention to how you looked so you didn't even know you had the ability to look so well presented.

You were so distracted by your appearance that you didn't notice that your mother had left your quarters until you felt the door close behind her upon her return. She was carrying in her hands a neatly folded piece of green fabric, which you soon discovered was a dress. But not just any dress, but the one she had worn the day she married your father. She handed it to you with tears in her eyes and helped you put it on while she told you how much she had waited for the moment to see you wearing it.

The dress was beautiful and fit you perfectly. The green fabric clung to your body, caressing your natural curves, all the way down to your hips where the skirt became full and flowy. Similarly, the sleeves flared out towards the lower half of your arm and the edges were adorned with golden thread embroidery that your grandmother had made herself for your parents' wedding. Your mother took it upon herself to add detail to the bodice, embroidering delicate flowers with the same thread.

“I always envisioned it this way,” your mother commented as you both admired your reflection in the mirror. “At the time we couldn't afford to add more detail. Your grandmother sewed everything herself to save us some money, but I always imagined something more. When you were born I knew I had to finish it, so that one day I could see it on your wedding day.”

“Mother, thank you! It's... it's beautiful!” And you really believed that. The dress was beautiful and the story and sentiment behind it made it even more special.

Looking in the mirror you noticed that you felt beautiful for the first time in your life. Not that you thought you were ugly before that moment, you just never paid much attention to such things. You admired the beauty of noble women when you were lucky enough to come across one in the market, but it was always like someone admiring a painting or a statue. You admired their elegance and the detail of their dresses. You were puzzled by the perfection of their skins and the strong but delicate scent of their perfumes. You appreciated the intricate beauty of their hairstyles and the grace of their walk. It was a beauty that almost didn't seem real. You thought that you were not capable of it, that such delicacy and femininity was unattainable for someone like you. But looking in the mirror at that moment, you felt for the first time like one of those women, beautiful and elegant.

“I know it's not as pretty as the dress you would be wearing if you were about to marry Lord Veldren, but I'm happy to be able to carry on the tradition. He probably would have given you a much more detailed and expensive gown, made of the finest fabrics to enhance your beauty... but then I could never have seen this finished beauty.” Your mother smiled, smoothing the fabric of the skirt to fit your body properly.

“I'm not so sure about that. Although I do think he wouldn't have let me wear it, I don't think it would be because he wanted to give me something better, but rather to use it as a tool of control and take away the power of making my own decisions on yet another thing in my life.”

“Maybe so, but you shouldn't think about that now. What matters is that you managed to get rid of him and we will be able to keep the tradition going. Hopefully someday you will be able to add something else to the dress and pass it on to your daughter on her wedding day.”

You smiled at your mother, but said nothing. You really doubted that would be possible given the person —and the circumstances— you were marrying, but you didn't have the heart to break it to your mother at that moment. There would be time for that, but right now you wanted to focus on the positive.

Your mother excused herself again, running downstairs to make sure everything was going according to plan. You were left alone with your thoughts once more, your mind full of questions about what the future held for you. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. Even though you and Geralt didn't share the love you imagined every time you fantasized about your wedding day, it was still quite a nerve-wracking situation. Maybe even more so.

Marrying for love meant getting to know the other person, knowing what they wanted for the future and being certain that you would both work together to make that shared desire come true. But you had none of that with Geralt. You were extremely grateful to him for the decision he had made, but you couldn't help but think that you had no idea what would happen after the ceremony was over. Everything had happened so quickly that you hadn't had time to talk about it. Yes, you had shared a meaningful kiss, but that didn't automatically negate the many reasons he had presented as an argument for not marrying you. At the end of the day, he was still a witcher with a bigger mission and purpose than you and you weren't sure how that was going to affect your marriage.

Would he stay with you and build a life together? Would he leave the next morning, never to return? Would he let you into his life or would he run off into the night without even saying goodbye as he had already tried to do? You were fine with any of those options, after all, they all fulfilled your true goal of getting Lord Veldren out of your life. But you would still like to know beforehand what his choice was going to be so you would know what to expect.

The ceremony was quick. There were no special guests or grand entertainments. It was an intimate event, witnessed only by your family and the officiating clergy. There were no special vows either, you and Geralt didn't know each other well enough to write down your feelings for each other and pronounce your vows of love in front of the witnesses present. But that didn't stop it from being emotional, both for you and your family. Your mother had gone to great lengths to decorate the garden for the ceremony, with colorful flowers and candles surrounding the area where it took place. The pinkish orange tones of the sunset sky added a magical touch to the moment, and while the circumstances of the wedding were not perfect, it was very close to what you had always imagined.

The ceremony was quick, more of a formality than a celebration of love, but you were still happy. The moment the union was official you and your family were free from Lord Veldren and his extortions. You were now married to a man very well trained in the art of combat, if he was smart —and you appealed to his cowardice and his need to feel superior— he would focus his attention on another young girl and finally stop tormenting you. And that was reason enough for you to rejoice and celebrate.

You were contemplating going out for a stroll around town hand in hand with your now husband so that rumors would slowly begin to circulate, when a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Your father went to answer it while you instinctively hid behind Geralt's imposing figure, peeking over his shoulder to decipher if there was danger on the other side of the wood.

You didn't quite hear the conversation that the stranger and your father seemed to be having, only mumbles. But that was enough to make out that it was one of Lord Veldren's men making demands. Only this time they didn't seem to be directed at your family.

“Where is the witcher? We know you are sheltering him here. Have him present himself immediately!” The man demanded in a firm, threatening tone, causing your gaze to rise to meet Geralt's.

“What is this about?” you heard your father say, clearing his throat to try to sound more intimidating.

“He is not welcome here. We have strict orders from Lord Veldren to escort him to the outskirts of town. If you hide him, we will take you as well.”

Geralt took a step forward, ready to face the men calling his name, but stopped when he felt your fingers close around his arm. He looked down at you and saw concern in your eyes. You were afraid of them, of those men, of their threats, of what Lord Veldren might do to you and your family. He had heard you say it on several occasions, but he had never seen it so explicitly on your face. He knew then that he had to act. His job as your husband was to watch over you and protect you from danger, to show you that you no longer had reason to fear these men. So he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back of it as a way of reassuring you that everything would be all right. Then he approached the door and patted your father on the back to signal that he could leave. He was going to handle what was next.

Geralt took a couple of steps out of the threshold of the door to make sure that if things got out of control you and your family could be locked inside the house while he dealt with the problem. The two men Veldren had brought to capture him backed up with every step he took, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the witcher. Geralt knew then that it was not going to be difficult to get rid of them. He towered over them intimidatingly, his muscular figure large enough to accommodate both men under his shadow. He saw the fear in their eyes and the regret of having left the horses behind to approach the gate.

Despite everything, the men tried to hold their place, and Geralt respected them a bit more for it. However, he did not give in to their demands and when they wanted to force him, he showed them without any trouble or effort the mistake they had made.

“Geralt!” you exclaimed from the doorway, alarmed to see the fight break out. But he quickly proved to you that your concern was in vain. Between blows he even had time to give you a calming look, silently reassuring you that everything was fine and you had nothing to worry about.

“Go inside!” he instructed before turning around and delivering a punch to the guard closest to him.

You didn't listen to him. You stood in place admiring from a distance the skill with which Geralt moved, the precision of his body position and how lethal his attacks were, even as you could tell he was holding back. It was an art, a complex dance that he had mastered to perfection. Those guards never stood a chance.

It wasn't long before the men were on the ground, panting and bloody, wondering what would become of them. But Geralt didn't want to kill them, he understood they were just following orders. His fight was not with them, but with the one who held their leashes. He was the reason they had come looking for him and the one to blame for the fear in your eyes every time you heard the knock on the door. He was the one he really had to fight. So Geralt made sure they heard his next words well.

“Tell Lord Veldren that I'm not going anywhere. If he wants to cast me out, he'll have to come himself to do it in person. If he is not willing to face me then he should leave me and my wife alone or next time it will be me knocking on his door.”

Hearing the protectiveness in his voice as he called you his wife made your heart pound. You weren't used to that, to belonging to someone in that way, but it was definitely something you could get used to. It felt nice having someone caring about you in that way, having someone willing to fight to protect you. You knew it wasn't much of an effort for someone like Geralt, but you also knew he didn't have to do any of it, which made you appreciate it even more.

You ran into Geralt's arms as the men scurried off to their horses, riding away from your home as fast as they could. “Thank you,” you whispered against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

It took Geralt a couple of seconds to reciprocate, slightly surprised by your show of affection. He wasn't used to humans —much less young ladies such as yourself— reacting positively when he demonstrated his combat skills. People usually had no problem paying him to solve their problems, but they were rarely able to accept the methods he employed to do so. Of course the fight there had not been brutal, but in the past he had earned negative looks for similar things, so your acceptance of his violence took him by surprise. But eventually Geralt relaxed and pulled you close against his body, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

It wasn't long before you found yourself alone at home. Your family had left for your aunt's place just as your mother had told you and Geralt had disappeared. You were just finishing tidying up, washing glasses and dishes so it wouldn't pile up, when you saw him through the window. He had taken his horse out of the stable and was walking with the reins in his hand at a slow pace in the direction of the exit. And you watched him walk away with sadness in your heart, certain that you would never see him again.

You contemplated running after him, trying to stop him or asking him if he was planning to stop by again. But you regretted it at the last minute. You didn't want to push him any harder than you already had. He had married you because you asked him to and that was more than enough. You couldn't demand that he keep to the guidelines of a normal marriage when you knew very well that there was nothing normal about your arrangement. Geralt had kept his word, he had married you and he had made sure that Lord Veldren knew that you were already taken and that your family was under his protection. You could not ask more of him than that. You now had the freedom you wanted so badly, it was only fair that he could return to his normal life.

You wished he had at least said goodbye, or that he had waited for the sun to rise before disappearing. You'd be lying if you said you weren't sad to have to spend your wedding night alone, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was better to not force something that wasn't there. The marital bed your brothers and father had built for you would definitely feel too big and empty without someone next to it, but that would probably be that way with or without Geralt there. You didn't share the love necessary to make the bed a warm and safe place, so the night would be long and cold, alone or together.

When you finished tidying up the house you went upstairs to your quarters and took the time to undo your hair and take off your wedding dress. It felt wrong to walk around the house looking like that when there was no one else around. Without your husband there it felt like you had gone back in time to when you were little and played dress up with your mother's dresses, imagining what your life would be like when you got to be her age. You felt silly, so you put the dress away and covered your chemise dress with a robe since you weren't ready to go to sleep yet.

To avoid being consumed by your thoughts, you decided to grab a book. You settled yourself on one side of the bed, your eyes glancing only for a moment at the empty side before you opened the book with the intention of losing yourself in its pages. It was not an easy task. It took you much longer than usual to read just ten pages, your attention always wandering to the swirl of questions that was your mind, forcing you to reread the same pages over and over again to understand what was going on in the story. But eventually you were able to lose yourself in the words to such an extent that you didn't hear the sound of the front door opening or the footsteps coming up the stairs.

Seeing the imposing figure of Geralt peering through the door of your chambers really surprised you. You put your book down for a moment, watching as he took a few hesitant steps inside. “I didn't know if you were coming back.” You broke the silence. Your gaze returned to the book in your hands to avoid the awkwardness of looking him in the eye.

“Honestly I didn't either.” Geralt spoke in a soft tone and you could almost hear the doubt in his voice. “But I threatened Veldren so I can't just disappear and leave you to deal with the consequences.”

Geralt made his way to the empty side of the bed and you watched him sit with his back turned to you. He remained still and silent for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts, and you wondered if he was regretting the decision he had made. A lump formed in your throat, making it difficult to breathe. Your heart was heavy with sadness, feeling guilty that you had trapped him into this.

“You don't need to spend the night here.” You muttered under your breath. If he didn't want to be there you weren't going to force him to sleep next to you. There was no one in the house to judge you, so he could sleep wherever he felt most comfortable, far away from you. “You can go back to your quarters, no one has to know.” You looked down at the book once more, trying to find an escape from the shame you felt in the words written on the weathered pages.

“I want to be here.” Geralt turned, looking at you with softness in his eyes. “It's where I belong.”

And he wasn't lying. He had to admit he wasn't sure if things were going to work out, but he was your husband now and it was his duty to be there for you. It was the one thing he was sure of in all of this, it had become clear to him on his walk through town with Roach. He had left with the intention of clearing his thoughts, to contemplate his options and decide how to proceed accordingly. And he found that the further he got away from you, the worse he felt. He didn't like the idea of you spending your wedding night alone, in an empty house without your family or husband. It was wrong. So he came back to hold you in his arms at night as he should and keep you safe in case Lord Veldren decided to pay you a visit. He did not know how long he could keep up the charade —how much longer he could hide from his destiny and responsibilities—, but that was not a concern he had to consider at the moment. Tonight he was supposed to be by your side.

You smiled at him as you heard him say that, feeling relieved. You didn't notice anything in his expression that made you think he was lying to you so you allowed yourself to relax a little. You were still a little tense as you didn't know how to proceed or what he expected from tonight. You knew it was tradition for newlywed couples to consummate the marriage on their wedding night, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about it, but you wondered if it made any kind of sense. You weren't going to build a family together. There was no love between you to express in a physical way. And yet you couldn't help but wonder if Geralt wanted you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you asked after a moment of silence, shifting your gaze away from Geralt's in embarrassment. You hoped you didn't sound controlling or needy.

“I haven't decided yet... I do have to go back, I have a home and people waiting for me, but we have some time. Besides, I realized it would not be wise to leave so soon after threatening Lord Veldren. I promised you that I would keep you safe from him and I intend to keep my word. It is best that I stay for a while to make sure he does not retaliate.”

You felt that comforting warmth in your belly again as you heard the protective tone in his voice. You tried to focus on that to get rid of all your worries, repeating over and over in your mind that he wanted to be there and that it had been his decision to help you.

Geralt turned his back to you once again and the air caught in your throat when you noticed that he was taking off his shirt, probably getting comfortable to sleep. Heat flooded your cheeks and you couldn't stop your eyes from trailing over his figure exposed to your curious gaze. He was like a work of art, the most beautiful and detailed sculpture you had ever seen. You admired with marvelous awe the way his muscles marked on his skin with every movement, as if they were sculpted by the hand of the most talented artist. His pale skin was the perfect canvas on which the tales of his adventures were told in the form of scratches and scars. Some were larger and flushed, others smaller and faded, but all equally intriguing. There was a large one on his left shoulder blade and another near his lower back that caught your attention. You couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind them. How did they end up on his skin? Who or what was responsible? Had it been saving someone?

You had to occupy your hands with the book, flipping through the pages to distract yourself and resist the urge to reach out to touch every bit of exposed skin your fingers could reach. You didn't know what had gotten into you, but with each passing second it became harder to stay away from Geralt. You were grateful that he had turned his back on you, that way he wasn't able to see the hunger and curiosity in your eyes, which allowed you to keep your dignity.

But even though he couldn't see you, he could still feel your gaze on him. He could feel the way you shifted uncomfortably on the bed and hear the change in your breathing that now escaped your lips in shallow gasps. He knew exactly what was going through your mind and thought it was adorable that you thought you could hide it from him.

“You can ask about them. I know what you want to.” Geralt broke the silence.

He still had his back to you, working on taking off his boots, but you still felt your whole face light up with embarrassment at having been caught. Could witchers read minds? You were pretty sure they couldn't, but the way he knew with such certainty that your eyes were examining his scars scared you a little.

“I guess everyone's curious about that, huh.”

Geralt shrugged. “You wouldn't be the first to ask about them.”

The implication behind his words put a strange feeling in your stomach. The idea that other people had had the opportunity to share such an intimate moment with him didn't sit well with you in the slightest, though you didn't quite understand why. You ignored that strange feeling for the moment, choosing to focus your attention on the moment unfolding before your eyes. Geralt's past or future should not concern you since you were not part of either. But you were part of his present and that was all that mattered.

You moved closer to him on the bed, letting one hand timidly make contact with his back. Geralt said nothing when he felt your fingers on his skin, which gave you the confidence to explore his body with a little more freedom. You were careful with your touch, slowly tracing the lines marked on his skin as you memorized their shape and color, reading them as if they were the story of his life. You tried to guess which had come first, imagining the causes behind each rough line on his skin. Your fingers lingered a little longer on his shoulder as you discovered that beneath your fingertips there was a mark that was almost imperceptible to your eyes. It was almost the same color as his skin, but you could feel the difference in texture when you touched the area. It reminded you very much of the mark that had been left on your shoulder after a hunting accident when you were a child, and you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was the same age as you when that wound was made.

“Were they all done by the monsters you hunt?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Geralt closed his eyes as he felt your warm breath tickle the skin of his back. He focused on your touch, letting your fingers guide his memory and transport him back to the moments when those marks had been inflicted on his skin. The Striga, the Bruxa, the fight in that bar that one time, the Kikimora in the lake by the side of the road and, finally, the dislocated arm he earned on one of his first days of training when he was much smaller and skittish than he was now.

“Some were made by human swords as well... that's what I meant when I warned you of the danger I bring with me. It's not just the monsters.”

Geralt turned to look at you and met your confused expression. You were lost in thought for a moment and then, without a word, you removed the robe you were wearing, exposing the linen chemise dress that covered your body. The white fabric was loose but thin, exposing probably more than you wanted to before his eyes. He almost felt bad for looking at you until your hands grabbed his and pulled them to your shoulder, right where the short sleeve that held the chemise dress in place had slipped down.

You pressed Geralt's hand against you, feeling a warm tingle under your skin as his fingers finally made contact with the scar you were trying to show him. His eyes moved up from your collarbone to your face, looking at you curiously.

“I got this one when I was about 10 years old. My older brother was just starting to learn to hunt so my dad was going to take him on a hunting trip just the two of them. I begged him for days to let me go with them, I even promised him that I wouldn't leave his sight and I would do whatever he told me to do... He agreed, just to shut me up. And he was very careful all the time, they both were. But still things went wrong and I was shot with an arrow. The wound got infected and I almost died... my father had to carry me two villages away for a healer to cure me.”

Geralt listened to you attentively, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers slid gently down your shoulder. He wondered what point you were trying to make, though he had to admit he found it a bit difficult to focus having you so close. Your hand never let go of his. It remained lightly clinging to his wrist, giving him enough freedom to move across your skin but keeping it in place. He couldn't help but notice how small it looked in contrast to his, your slender but short fingers had trouble closing around his wrist while his hand could wrap around your entire shoulder.

He allowed you to move his hand once more, guiding it further south this time. You stretched one leg out on the bed, lifting your chemise dress up to thigh height. It was a slow, tortuous movement that Geralt followed closely with his eyes, silently admiring how you shyly exposed part of your body to him. Then you allowed his calloused fingers to make contact with the skin of your knee where he quickly found another mark.

“This one I got when I was even younger. I think I was about 8 years old or so. I fell off a horse and broke my leg. The bone was showing and everything! I fainted from the shock and I don't remember much of what happened. It took a long time to heal and even on rainy days it still hurts and I have a little trouble walking... My point is, we all have scars.”

You offered a warm smile to Geralt, but he looked away. His fingers ran over the faded lines on your knee a couple of times before he spoke.

“It's not the same.” He muttered, lost in thought.

Your smile widened slightly looking at Geralt with compassion. You reached out your free hand towards him, gripping his chin between your thumb and forefinger to force him to look at you. “Yes it is. They may not be equally heroic, but they represent the same thing... danger, risk of death, pain... Any one of those wounds could have ended my life because danger can come from anywhere, even in the comfort of this very house. Life is not a competition about who lives longer, but about who lives it better... if having you in my life shortens my lifespan 10 years I will take it without complaint because it is infinitely better than living 100 years under Lord Veldren's control.” You meant every word and sealed it by pressing your lips against Geralt's in a soft, gentle kiss.

The moment your lips connected you felt that spark again. A warm sensation spread through your body and you found it impossible to separate from Geralt. But this kiss was different from the one you had shared on the lakeside that night. It felt much more intimate and special. He let you set the pace, adapting to the movement of your lips and keeping his hands still. It was clear he was doing it for you, to make you feel comfortable and to allow you to set your own boundaries. And you found that incredibly sweet. His movements were slow and tender, caressing your lips with his as if he knew exactly what to do to sweep you off your feet.

But it wasn't long before you began to feel like you needed something more. As sweet as his lips felt against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted to feel his warmth enveloping you completely, to explore his body and leave your mark on his skin. You moved closer to him, deepening the kiss in an attempt to satiate the need that was growing rapidly deep inside you. Your hand clung properly to his chin and you sucked on his lower lip with fervor, your tongue timidly caressing his mouth as an invitation for more. Geralt's grip on your leg tightened, his fingers pressed against the sensitive skin of your thigh in warning. He was trying to slow you down, warning you that you were headed down a dangerous path. But all he got from you was a moan. The sweetest, most addictive sound, that vibrated against your lips and awakened a fire inside him.

Geralt's fingers tightened around your leg instinctively, a natural reaction to what your beautiful sounds were provoking in him. He was trying so hard to hold back and you were making it increasingly difficult for him. A moan escaped your lips again, feeling a pressure in your stomach and a pulse between your legs as his calloused fingers marked your skin. This time the sound was much louder and clearer, echoing in the witcher's ears as if it were a beautiful song. One that awakened his most primal desires.

When you fell silent he felt empty. An urgent need to know all the sounds of pleasure that he was able to get from you took over him. Suddenly he lost the little control he had left over his desires, but he gained control of the situation, guiding your body down onto the mattress without separating his lips from yours. He had only one goal in mind: to engrave forever in his memory the sound of your voice calling his name as you unraveled in his arms.

The moment Geralt took control, it was over for you. His body trapped you against the mattress, his much larger and imposing figure hovering over yours like a wolf over its prey. One of his hands rested beside your head, helping to keep his balance, the other ran up your thigh until it reached your hip, lifting your chemise dress in its path. His fingers left a trail of fire over your skin, increasing the pressure in your stomach and the wetness in your most intimate area. Geralt's lips moved down from your mouth to your neck, sucking and playfully nibbling at the sensitive skin with enough fervor to leave marks.

You caught your lower lip between your teeth, struggling to keep the moans from escaping your throat. You were embarrassed by the ease with which he could arouse such improper sounds in you. You sounded so pathetic —your voice so whiny and desperate— that it was hard to recognize your own voice. You didn't want to make a fool of yourself any more than you already were, so you fought against every instinct to keep those sounds inside you.

But Geralt didn't share the same thought. When he noticed what you were doing his hand traveled from your hip to your chin. He used his thumb to free your lower lip, pushing it away from your teeth in a delicate movement. His eyes admired your slightly swollen lips glistening with saliva. He resisted the temptation to kiss them once more, settling for gently caressing them with his thumb.

“Don't do that,” Geralt murmured in your ear, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your ear lobe. “I want to listen to you.”

He showed you no compassion as he placed his mouth on your neck again. He started soft, leaving a trail of wet kisses over the sensitive area just below your ear, a way to lure you into a false sense of security. Then he sucked and nibbled on the skin and didn't stop until he heard you moan under his touch. Only then he ran his tongue over the area, a gentle caress that sought to soothe the slightly irritated skin. And then he started the whole process all over again, working his way downward toward your collarbones.

“That's it, I want to hear you... I need to know that I'm making you feel good.” he whispered against your heated skin.

You wanted to answer him, to assure him that you had never felt anything like this before. But when you opened your mouth no sound came out, only an airy sigh as you felt his fingers brush your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt dress. Geralt took note of that and soon wrapped his hand around your breast, covering it completely. You arched your back towards him instinctively as he began to play with your nipple between his fingers. It was slightly painful when he pinched them, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You instinctively tried to push your legs together, hoping that the pressure of your thighs together would be enough to relieve the throbbing need in your most sensitive area. But you were unable to do so because Geralt's leg rested between yours, keeping you open and in place for him. You moaned and squirmed under Geralt's body, frustrated and desperate for some relief. And his solution to your predicament was to push his thick thigh directly against your crotch.

You both moaned as you rubbed against his leg. Your eyes opened wide, surprised by the wave of pleasure that coursed through your body as it made contact with the fabric of Geralt's pants. You had never felt anything like it before, but it did wonders to soothe the pulsing heat inside you. So you moved your hips against him again and again until you established a slow, sensual rhythm that made your whole body feel on fire.

Geralt took a moment to admire you in the dim candlelight, noticing every little detail about you. You looked beautiful with your hair spread out on the bed and your soft, delicate skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your swollen, parted lips let out the sweetest sounds, inviting him to devour them once more. Your breasts moved slightly with each sway of your hips, tempting him to release them from their white linen confinement. He couldn't help but notice that you looked very different from the way you did the first time he saw you. The purity and innocence was still present in your eyes, but hidden behind the lust and desire that had taken over your body. He found it increasingly difficult to keep himself under control, especially when you looked at him with half-closed eyes in pleasure, mumbling incoherently as you soaked his thigh with your arousal.

He was amazed at how easy it was to bring you to that euphoric state. Your naivety on the subject made you more receptive to his caresses, all he had to do was touch you on the right place and say the right words and you would whimper for more. Geralt found it incredibly attractive. Knowing that he was the first man to see you in that state awakened something deep inside him. He was the one who was introducing you to the world of pleasure, he would become your standard, your only reference for judging another man's ability to perform, and he wanted to make sure that no one could ever compare to him.

“You look so pretty like this.” Geralt whispered against your lips, his hand clinging to your chin to make sure you didn't move your head back in pleasure. “Such a perfect little dove, feeling good to me.” The nickname escaped his lips without too much thought, but it was fitting. You were his little dove, white and innocent, but with a free spirit that longed to fly and explore the world.

Warmth poured into your cheeks, feeling nervous under the witcher's intense gaze. “Geralt...” you trailed off, not quite sure where you were going with the sentence. You wanted to ask him to stop, but at the same time you were sure you would cry if he pulled away from you. The friction was no longer enough, but you weren't sure you could take any more.

“What is it, my dove? Use your words.” The tone of his voice was gentle, but his lips curved upward in a devilish smile. It was such a distinct contrast that it startled you, it made you wonder if you were capable of enduring what he was dying to give you.

“I need more... I need you.”

“You already have me.” Geralt scattered little kisses down your chin and neck, and pressed his thigh a little harder against your crotch, giving you a better angle to move your hips.

You let out a pathetic moan, closing your eyes in embarrassment and frustration. “You know what I mean.” You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't make you say it out loud.

“I know, I know... but I need to get you ready first... I need to make sure you're ready to take me.”

Geralt pulled away from you and you let out a groan at the loss of the only amount of friction that was giving you some relief. However, he didn't stay away from you for long. His hands caressed their way down your body, making you gasp as you felt his fingers on your exposed thighs. You remained still, expectant. Your eyes didn't leave his figure for a second, waiting to see what his next move was.

“Have you ever done anything like this?” he asked you in a husky voice as his hands slowly moved up your thighs, getting dangerously close to your most intimate area. “Have you ever let another man kiss you and touch you like this? It's okay if you did, you don't have to feel ashamed of that with me.”

You shook your head, having trouble forming a coherent sentence as his fingers drew circles over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “No... I-I was waiting for the right person.” You managed to blurt out between gasps.

“Have you ever given yourself pleasure?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at that intimate and strange question. Were you supposed to? Was that a part of all this that you hadn't been told about? When you were old enough your mother had taken it upon herself to tell you certain things, but not even in the days leading up to the wedding had she talked about something like that. You had been raised under the belief that sex was something special only meant to be shared with a spouse. You had felt things in the past, but never acted on it, no more than squeezing your legs together to make the throbbing in your core stop.

“Was I supposed to?” You asked in a whisper, afraid you were doing something wrong.

You didn't have to be too bright to know that Geralt was experienced in the subject —it was clear in the way he moved, in how he kissed you, and in the confidence of his caresses— which only made you feel more aware of your inexperience. You were afraid that he expected something different, that your inexperience would be a problem and that he would reject you for it. You needed him and wanted him to have a good time too, you just weren't sure you could give it to him.

But Geralt smiled warmly at your response, his eyes looking at you with a softness in them that awakened butterflies in your stomach. He didn't seem angry or disappointed, which gave you some reassurance.

“Do you trust me to make you feel good?” His voice was a raspy whisper that made your heart flutter in your chest. You nodded your head, but that wasn't enough for him. “I need to hear you say it, dove.”

“I trust you, Geralt.” You said confidently.

Maybe it was the way you looked at each other as if there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, or maybe it was the slow, passionate kiss you shared afterwards, but the moment felt much more intimate and authentic than you expected. It was no longer just about carnal desire and feeling good, there was something much deeper behind your words and the softness in Geralt's eyes. It was about your connection, how comfortable and safe you felt in each other's arms. It wasn't love, at least not yet, but it was a spark.

Geralt's hands continued to travel up your body as he kissed you, lifting your chemise dress in his wake. The cool air of the room hit your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the fiery trail his fingers awakened in their path. The higher they traveled, the more your heart pounded in your chest, racing with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Geralt pulled away from your lips as his exploring fingers reached the underside of your breasts. He looked into your eyes, searching them for consent before fully revealing your body to his hungry eyes. He didn't have to say anything and neither did you. You simply shifted your position and raised your arms so that he could remove the article of clothing with more ease.

You felt the need to cover yourself as you were finally exposed to him, feeling small and vulnerable under his intense gaze. Your hands instinctively went to cover your breasts, but Geralt stopped you before you could do so.

“Don't hide from me. You are beautiful and I want to take the time to admire and appreciate every part of you to show you how beautiful you are.”

This time it was you who sought his lips since you didn't have the words to express what his tender words and desire filled eyes made you feel. You gave yourself completely to him, body and soul, so that he could do with you whatever he wanted. You let his fingers explore every inch of your body and his lips mark your skin as if he were claiming ownership over your being. And you allowed yourself the same freedom, caressing his arms and back, burying your fingers in his long white hair as he lost himself in the crook of your neck.

When he buried his hand between your legs, your grip on his hair tightened, tugging lightly on the strands as waves of pleasure flooded through your body. It was a pleasure you had never felt before, intense and exhilarating. It set your whole body on fire and made it hard to breathe, but you were sure you would burst into tears if Geralt pulled away from you at that moment. It was all too much —Geralt's caresses, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the wetness of his lips attacking your most sensitive areas— the pleasure was overwhelming and with each passing second you felt more and more as if something inside you was going to snap.

“That's right, my beautiful wife, feeling good for me.” Geralt muttered against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. You let out a pathetic moan in response, feeling your heart pound at hearing him call you his wife. You liked the sound of that, probably more than you should.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment. The pleasure and possessiveness of his words brought you to a high that had you completely enraptured. Your body no longer felt like yours, it no longer responded to you, but to Geralt's touch, his words and his kisses. You couldn't say that it bothered you. On the contrary, it felt good, right. You trusted him with your body, mind and soul, you knew he would take good care of you.

You were brought back to the moment when you felt a pressure in your core. You opened your eyes, alarmed, as you felt one of Geralt's long, thick fingers slowly slide inside you. Your hand flew to his forearm, gripping it to stop him. It hurt. It wasn't unbearable, but it was uncomfortable. You could feel your velvety walls stretching open, struggling to accommodate his finger.

“Sshh, I know, I know,” Geralt's reassuring voice echoed in your ears. “It hurts, I know. But it'll be just for a moment until you get used to it. Then it will feel good, I promise... Do you trust me?”

Your grip on his arm lightened at his question, a silent answer that you reaffirmed with an affirming nod of your head. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Then let me show you how good it can feel.”

You did not remove your hand from his arm, but allowed him to continue. Geralt's movements became extremely slow and careful. He distracted you from the pain with pleasure, spreading kisses over every inch of skin his lips could reach, and resuming the gentle caresses of his thumb over your little bundle of nerves. Soon the pressure dissipated, your walls opening up to him, inviting him to get lost deep inside with the slipperiness of your arousal. And so he did, pushing his finger deep inside you in search of that special place that would make your toes curl and your back arch in pleasure.

He knew he found it when the volume of your moans increased and you rolled your eyes back. Your grip on his arm tightened, only this time not as a signal to stop, but as a desperate search for some support, something to help you stay grounded while the pleasure consumed you. It hurt a little when he added a second finger to his intrusion, but not as much as the first time. You were more relaxed and more comfortable. You knew you could take it and that the reward for doing so was pleasure like you had never felt before, so you bit your lower lip and took it.

It didn't take long for you to feel yourself on the edge of explosion, the tension in your belly getting tighter to the point of being unbearable. Your moans became more whiny and incoherent, your body moving without your control to the tune of Geralt's touch. You felt you could take no more, but at the same time you needed to know what lay beyond the limit.

“Geralt, I can't... it's too much.” You managed to blurt out between incessant panting. Your vision was getting slightly blurry and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You tried to pull away from Geralt's arms, but he wouldn't let you. He trapped you under his towering figure to make sure you couldn't escape his touch.

“Yes you can. I know you can... You just have to let go, all right? It's okay, I'm here. I've got you. I've got you. You're alright. Just let go, you're safe with me.”

The softness of his words contrasted with the firmness of his touch, his fingers attacking your most sensitive area without any mercy. And the combined effort of both of them was enough to push you over the edge. Your body tensed and white lights exploded behind your eyelids as waves of pleasure washed over you. The world around you ceased to exist. You could hear Geralt's voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear and feel his soft caresses on your skin, guiding you through your climax, but it all felt distant, like a dream. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure that shook your body.

Geralt's golden gaze was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He was silently admiring you, one finger stroking your cheek in a circular pattern while his eyes watched every little detail of your face. There was something in his gaze, a sparkle in his eyes that captivated you. It was more than lust, more than the lasciviousness you were used to seeing in Lord Veldren's eyes. You couldn't quite name it, but you knew it made you feel good, comfortable and safe. Geralt desired you, but not in the possessive, objectifying way that your previous suitor did. When he looked at you as he did at that moment you knew he didn't see an object he wanted to possess, he saw you as the woman you were. You felt seen by Geralt in a way you had never experienced before. He gave you confidence and self-assurance and you loved the way that felt.

“How do you feel?” his raspy voice whispered close to your ear.

The corners of your lips curved upward slightly, demonstrating the state of complete bliss you were in. “Good... I'm fine.”

“You did so well...” Geralt trailed off, his thumb following the line of your lips as his mind was lost in the image of your eyes closed and your mouth parted open letting out moans and gasps as you came undone in his arms.

It was a beautiful image that he wanted to engrave forever in his memory. Giving you pleasure was his new addiction, the way your body trembled beneath him, the sounds you made, the scent of your arousal, it was all too intoxicating. He was dying to see you in such a state again. And again. And again and again, until his scent was so impregnated into your skin that everyone knew you were his wife when they came near you.

“Do you think you're ready for more?”

You nodded eagerly, regaining the strength to lift your arms and cling to Geralt's neck, pulling him to you to melt into a kiss. “I am, I want everything from you... I want to make you feel good too, even if I don't know how.” You admitted with some embarrassment.

“You don't have to worry about that, my beloved. It makes me feel good to see you enjoy yourself. Tonight is about you and I will take it upon myself to show you all the pleasure you don't know.”

Your heart pounded as you heard the affectionate nickname he used for you. His beloved... You liked the sound of it, even when it wasn't real. You let yourself get lost in the moment, drifting into a reality where he really loved you enough for those words to mean something.

The softness in his voice and the tenderness of his touch made you feel good, safe. It was soothing to know that he had no great expectations for you and was willing to take the time to teach you what you didn't know. However, your newfound confidence suffered a blow the moment his naked body was completely exposed to your curious eyes. He was beautiful and big, almost too big. As you looked at him you remembered the discomfort you felt when his fingers pushed inside you and felt your stomach twist with nerves, thinking there was no way the experience could be pleasurable for both of you.

Geralt noticed the concern on your face immediately and rushed to comfort you. His body was on top of yours in no time, his fingers gently caressing your cheek as he looked at you with softness in his eyes. “You need to relax,” he muttered against your lips.

“B-but, it's going to hurt...it won't fit.” You closed your eyes as he spoke, feeling embarrassment taking hold of you. You wanted nothing more than to make him feel good and let him guide you through the pleasure, but you had to admit you were a little nervous.

You feared that your comment had ruined the moment, that Geralt had grown tired of your hesitation and decided to leave you and go to sleep. But instead of scoffing, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, making you open your eyes again.

“It will fit. We'll make it fit. That's why I spent all this time getting you ready for me...so you'd be wet and ready to take me.” Geralt spread little wet kisses down your jaw to your neck as he spoke. If it was a strategy to distract you it was working wonders, because you could start to feel your body relax again. “It's going to hurt a little at first, just like before. But then it will feel good... We'll go slow and if at any point you feel it's too much we'll stop completely, alright? You are in control here.”

His words relaxed you more than you expected and with a simple kiss and a slight nod you gave Geralt permission to continue his assault on your body.

You winced as he began to thrust inside you. It felt a lot more uncomfortable than his fingers, though not so strange anymore. Your walls were struggling to accommodate his size and that resulted in a sharp burning pain between your legs that led you to consider stopping everything. And honestly you would have if Geralt hadn't let out the most beautiful sound you'd heard all night. It was a moan like no other so far, a primal growl that came from deep inside him, vibrating in his chest and filling you with confidence. You were making him feel good. Even if it hurt a little, even if you didn't quite know what to do, you were making him feel good. It filled your chest with pride and confidence to know that you were capable of such a thing and that was what you focused on to overcome the pain.

Your hands clung to him, nails digging into his back as you closed your eyes and focused all your attention on him, on his gasps and the way his body pressed down closer into yours.

“That's it, you're doing so well for me, dove” Geralt encouraged you between ragged breaths and a warm feeling filled your insides at the praise. “Just a little more, you can do it.”

“Geralt” you sighed, a mix of pain and pleasure clear in your voice. It was a plea for him to stop and for him to continue all at the same time, the expression of the conflicting sensations you felt inside you.

Geralt felt as if he could die at that very moment. The high-pitched whine in your voice, the glimmer in your eyes from tears and the hunger in your gaze was all too much. Your arousal helped him slide in with ease and he had to control himself from slipping inside you in one quick thrust. You felt so good, so wet and tight that he was going crazy. Slowly thrusting inside you was torture, but it was one he was willing to endure to make you feel comfortable and safe.

He stood still for a moment when he finally pushed all the way into you, giving you time to adjust to him as he enjoyed your warmth. “Can you feel me deep inside you, filling you more than you've ever been?” Geralt whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. “You know what that means, huh? It means you're mine now.”

Your walls tightened around him, causing you both to let out a moan of pleasure. The pain slowly dissipated as your body molded to his almost as if to honor his words. You were his, body and soul. The burning pain turned to pulsing desire and it wasn't long before you were squirming beneath Geralt's body, struggling to find some friction to relieve the pressure between your legs.

“I'm yours... I'm yours...” you repeated between wet kisses, giving him the power to do whatever he wanted with you. “Please...”

Geralt loved hearing the plea escape your lips, a whiny whisper that let him know you were ready for more. He enjoyed the way you looked up at him waiting expectantly for every move, every word, knowing that only he could bring you to that sweet relief once again. He almost wanted to hear you beg more for it, to watch you squirm under his body and whimper in frustration until he decided to give you what you so desperately needed. But he wasn't sure he could hold on that long to feel you fall apart in his arms one more time. He needed to feel you and he needed it now.

“I know, I know... I got you” Geralt breathed as he slowly slid his member almost all the way out of you. You threw your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes as you felt the delicious drag along your walls. He held still for a moment and then thrust inside you again, only with a little more force this time.

The moan that escaped your lips was both obscene and pathetic in equal parts. And Geralt loved every second of it.

“Does that feel good? Was that what you wanted?” You knew Geralt was making sure you were okay with those questions, they weren't necessarily meant for you to have a particular reaction to them, just to communicate your state to him. But there was something in the tone of his voice that sent a wave of pleasure throughout your body.

“Yes, yes! More, please, more!” was all you could blurt out between gasps, but Geralt didn't hesitate to indulge you.

He set a slow, sensual pace at first, dragging his member torturously slow along your walls before thrusting back inside you, using a little more force with each time. His lips never left your body, kissing every bit of exposed skin they could reach. His hands closed over your hips, holding you in place to make sure each thrust of his cock reached that special place inside you that made you scream.

Once you got used to his rhythm, you began to move your hips at the same pace, seeking to meet him halfway and forcing him inside you when he took too long. One of your hands got lost in his hair, grabbing and pulling the strands between your fingers when pleasure overwhelmed you or you wanted to feel his lips in a specific place. Your other hand clung to his broad back, nails digging into the skin until they left marks that would not fade the next morning. And Geralt loved every second of it.

He loved knowing you were feeling good. He loved being the one guiding you, teaching you things about your own body that you didn't even know yourself. But most of all, he loved the idea of you leaving your mark on his skin just as he was marking yours. Being inside you —feeling the warmth of your walls clenching around his cock, hearing your incessant moans and smelling the scent of your arousal in the air— had awakened something primal inside him, a possessiveness he didn't know he was capable of feeling. You were his after tonight and he wanted everyone to know it just by looking at you. No other man would ever dare to get close to you because his scent would be forever present on your skin, warning everyone not to lay a finger on you because you were already his.

“That's it, mark me as yours... I am yours and you are mine... mine to protect. Mine to please and to take care of. Mine to fuck and guide through the most intense carnal pleasures... Mine... My woman.” Geralt emphasized each sentence with a thrust bringing you closer and closer to that sweet relief. His movements were becoming more and more rough and sloppy, signaling that he was close to losing control as well.

You were slowly losing your grip on reality, your mind spiraling with pleasure. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the heat coursing through your body, but Geralt's words managed to bring you back to reality. The roughness in his voice and the possessiveness of his affirmations were a lethal mix designed to push you to the limit of what you could bear.

“Yes, yes! I'm yours, forever... I need... please.” You weren't being very coherent, but Geralt understood perfectly well what you wanted. He could feel the way your walls tightened around him, swallowing his cock deep inside you. You were close to exploding and he was more than willing to take you there.

“I know, I know... I got you, it's okay. You can let go, just relax. Take a deep breath... that's it. Let go, I've got you. I want to feel you come apart around me, please.”

Geralt's fingers pressed against your little bundle of nerves, drawing small circles on the swollen, sensitive skin. His thrusts became more precise, hitting that special place inside you with each thrust. His words were interpreted by your body as a command and in a matter of seconds the pleasure exploded inside you, spreading throughout your body.

You fell limp in Geralt's arms, overwhelmed and ecstatic. He only slowed his assault on your body for a moment, his hips almost ceasing to move to give you time to catch your breath.

“That's it, my good dove” he praised you as his thumb drew circles over the skin of your hip. “I wish you could see yourself right now... so beautiful, so fragile... Do you think you can take a little more? I need to fill you, to mark you as mine in the deepest, most intimate way possible, do you think you can take it?”

You moaned in response, already feeling his hips begin to pick up the pace ever so slowly. There was nothing you wanted more than that. You wanted to be his forever, even outside these four walls. You wanted to feel his warmth always with you and the weight of his body against yours. You longed to feel his scent on your skin and see the marks of his kisses on your body. You wanted everything he had to give you and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Yes, I can take it! Please give it to me! I need it... I need it all from you, please.” you pleaded eagerly and in response Geralt thrust his hips against yours, setting a fast and lethal rhythm.

It was clear he was using you for his pleasure now, but even then your body responded to his touches, the tension building again in your belly. It was as if you were no longer in control of your own body, as if it had stopped recognizing you as the one in charge and instead waited for Geralt's orders to react. And you didn't fight against it one bit, you simply let yourself be carried away by passion, feeling the pleasure through him.

His movements became more and more erratic and his moans louder and more frequent. He was losing control and you loved knowing that you were capable of causing something like that in him. You liked that he was using you for his own pleasure, that he was focusing on himself and using your body as a tool to achieve that sweet relief. He wasn't actively working on it, but with every thrust and moan he let out he brought you closer to that same edge. It was sweet and overwhelming. You felt the urge to escape from his arms so you could catch your breath, but your body could only press harder into Geralt's, moving your hips to help him find the pleasure he had shown you.

And it wasn't long before you both exploded in a sea of moans and pleasure.

“That's it, take it all in... take my seed deep inside you. Feel me inside you filling you up, claiming what belongs to me.” Geralt growled as he painted your walls with his essence, which mingled with the remnants of your release. “No one else is ever going to get the chance to feel this ever. You are mine... mine.”

You could do nothing but respond in whimpers of pleasure as your body shook with the intensity of your own orgasm, amplified by Geralt's words and the sensation of being filled with his seed.

You lost consciousness after that, reality slipping through your fingers like sand. You could hear Geralt mumbling sweet words in your ear and feel his fingers gently caressing your skin, but you didn't have the strength or ability to move or respond to him. You just laid there in his arms, full and in a state of complete bliss for who knows how long. The passage of time was a concept that had ceased to exist for you. The world around you seemed to have slowed down, but inside you felt your body working at an accelerated pace. Your heart pounded hard against your chest, the sound of pumping blood echoing in your ears. Your lungs struggled to get enough air so that your body could relax, your short, quickened breaths slowly finding a calmer rhythm as time passed.

Geralt took care of you every step of the way as you came down from your high, spreading soft kisses over your skin and whispering praise in your ear. He even went to the trouble of tucking you into bed and covering you with the sheets so that you wouldn't get cold once your body returned to normal temperature. And when you regained consciousness, his gentle smile was the first thing your eyes saw.

“There you are!” He said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear so he could admire your sweet face in all its glory. He would be lying if he said he wasn't proud of the expression of pure pleasure and satisfaction that graced your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine... tired, but fine.” You let out an airy chuckle, still feeling somewhat disconnected from everything.

You both remained silent for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. You couldn't help but think that there was something different about the way Geralt was looking at you. It was something you had noticed before, but you thought it was due to the intensity of the moment. Although now that everything was calmer you began to think it was something else. You didn't quite know how to explain what you saw in his eyes, but you knew you liked the way he made you feel. The only way you could describe it was a soft, comforting warmth, like a sunny spring morning. It felt like a caress to the soul, a tender gesture that awakened a tingle inside you. You felt safe under his gaze, seen in a way you had never experienced with a man.

“Thank you...” your voice broke the silence, ”for everything, I guess... for protecting me, for being such a gentleman, for treating me so well...” You were interrupted by the yawn that escaped involuntarily from your lips, reminding you once again how tired you were. “You gave me a perfect night... If you decide to leave tomorrow and I never see you again, you still leave me with the memory of a beautiful wedding night.”

Geralt was surprised by how much he disliked the idea of walking away from you. He knew he had to do it and a couple of hours ago he was more than ready to do it, but now things had changed. Separating from you was not as easy now that he had you naked in his arms, looking at him with narrowed eyes full of pleasure. It wasn't easy after having heard you beg for his name or having inhaled the scent of your essence. It wasn't easy at all now that he had claimed you as his own, marking you in the most intimate way he could, leaving his mark forever on your skin. He no longer wanted to be away from you and was willing to fight anyone who wanted to come between you. And, to be honest, that scared him a little.

“It's okay... rest.” He murmured gently as he noticed the way you were struggling to keep your eyes open. “We'll have plenty of time to talk in the morning. You need to rest now, my dove.”

The last thing you felt before you surrendered to sleep was Geralt's arms pressing you against his body, letting you rest your head on his chest as he traced sweet caresses on the skin of your back.

The month you shared with Geralt alone in your home was beautiful. You loved waking up tangled in the sheets and his arms, and his honey colored eyes being the first thing you saw in the morning. You loved chatting with him over breakfast and taking long walks around town hand in hand. You especially liked the way he would put his arm around you when a man dared to even look at you for too long, and how he would show you off when his walks through the marketplace ran into one of Lord Veldren's men. At first it was in a provocative way, as if he was looking to generate a reaction in the man, but after days passed and he did not show up at his door to challenge him and fight for your hand, Geralt knew he had won. Then the gentle kisses and soft caresses in front of his men —and in front of Lord Veldren himself on one occasion— went from being a provocation to a brag, a constant display of the weakness the Lord sought so hard to hide.

You learned a lot about Geralt in this time, about his life, his profession and the important people in his life —although perhaps not as much as you would like, as it was hard to get him to talk. Your favorite thing was listening to the tales of his adventures at night when you were both lying in bed. He didn't seem to find them as fascinating as you did, since you sensed a slight annoyance in his eyes whenever you insisted on the subject, but he never refused to indulge you. You loved listening to him talk, especially at night when the warmth of his chest and the deep sound of his voice lulled you to sleep. But besides being a cure for your restless nights, you quickly discovered that his stories were a good way to get to know him better. Geralt wasn't good at talking about himself or his life when you asked him a direct question, but through the way he recounted his travels you were able to gather little bits and pieces of his persona —the way he thought, his moral compass, details of his work and the reality of witchers that you didn't know. You found his world fascinating, frightening and dangerous at times, but fascinating nonetheless.

However, all good things always come to an end, in your experience, sooner rather than later. And this was yours. The day had finally come for Geralt to leave and you woke up that morning terrified that you would never see him again.

You hadn't talked much about it, since you were both secretly dreading the mere thought of being apart. And this morning was no different. You went about your routine as if it were any ordinary day, though with the heavy tension in the air that came from knowing it wasn't. You tried your best to ignore it as much as possible, looking for every excuse to spend more time together, making the most of what you had left. The morning chores were a bit delayed, as getting out of bed proved to be a particularly difficult task when all you wanted to do was melt into each other's bodies until you were one. But beyond the desperation to be with each other, there was not a single mention of the countdown you both had in the back of your mind.

When Geralt had marked this date as the day of his departure he had assured you that it would not be permanent and in the blissful happiness of the moment you had believed him. But now that the time had come, you couldn't help but be saddened not only by having to part from him, but also by not knowing for how long. You had spent a beautiful time together and you wanted to believe that it would be enough for Geralt to want to come back to your arms, but the reality was that you didn't know. You couldn't help but think that he had been almost forced into this marriage and you feared that going back to his old routines would put things in perspective. After all, there was a reason he had refused your proposal so much the first time. He had only agreed to marry you after spending time living with your family, losing himself in a reality far different from his own, and you were afraid that getting back on the road would show him what a big mistake he had made.

You couldn't stop thinking about it as you watched him from the kitchen window, gathering his things and slowly loading them onto Roach. You wanted to run over there and ask him the thousands of questions that were running through your mind. You wanted more than anything to hear him reassure you that everything would be okay and that he would come back for you, but you knew you couldn't completely trust his words. That may well be what he was thinking and feeling now, but there was no way of knowing how time alone on the road, accompanied only by his old habits, could possibly change him. There was no point in exchanging words, so you focused your attention on preparing and packing some supplies for his journey, so that at least he would have fresh food and water until he reached the next town.

You dared to step outside when you noticed that Geralt was almost finished settling his saddle, signaling that you didn't have much time left to keep lamenting about the future. You approached him with a slow step, as if you were looking for any way to drag out every second, taking advantage of the moment to memorize every detail you could find in his sideways profile.

“So you're leaving, huh?” you finally broke the silence, causing Geralt to raise his head to look at you. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard you approach, though it was a pleasant surprise.

At least until he noticed the doubt in your eyes.

“For a while, yes. I have business to take care of, people that are waiting for me... but I'll be back.”

You weren't able to hold his gaze, your eyes focusing on the grass beneath your feet as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. The last thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry, but you could start to feel the tears building up in your eyes.

Geralt noticed your concern and disbelief, and knew he couldn't leave until you knew he was being honest. He needed to make sure you understood that he wasn't playing games and that he intended to keep the promise he had made to you that evening in front of your family.

He hooked his fingers under your chin, using them as leverage to tilt your face up and force you to look at him. “I will come back for you.” Geralt assured you. “I promise.”

“You don't have to, that was the arrangement. Lord Veldren has already found another girl to focus his attention on so he no longer presents a danger to me or my family. You are free to go on with your life as it was before our paths crossed.”

“That's where you're wrong.” The corners of Geralt's lips curved upward slightly at your gesture of confusion. “Our paths did cross and I can't go back now. I can't go on with my life pretending you don't exist, that this time we shared didn't happen... I don't want to. I want to come back for you... and next time I will be the one to share some of his life with you. Perhaps I'll take you on the road with me, how about that?”

Even though nothing had changed, his words managed to bring a smile to your face and soothe your aching heart. There was something in his beautiful honey eyes that invited you to trust him, and the promise to take you on a trip with him made everything more real. It wasn't just words spoken into the wind, it was an idea, a plan for the future, something on which to build your relationship and, why not, a home over time. It was a first step, one of many you had to take if you wanted your relationship to continue, and Geralt was assuring you that he was willing to take it together, as it should be. So, while you were still saddened by his departure, you chose to give your mind and heart a break by believing his words.

“I would like that very much.” You muttered before pressing your lips together in a kiss, sealing your promise.

Watching Geralt leave was not easy, but his promise left you with some comfort. Tears escaped your eyes as you watched his white hair disappear into the horizon, and an aching emptiness built in your chest as you stepped back into a silent house that felt so much bigger now that you were alone. You realized then that you were going to miss him more than you thought and that the time apart would be much harder to endure than you had imagined. Only minutes had passed and you were already contemplating leaving everything behind, grabbing a horse and running to catch up with him. And you knew that feeling would only get worse as the days went by, growing and growing until it became unbearable. And it wouldn't go away until you saw his figure on the horizon again, coming back into your arms where he belonged.

Still, in the midst of your sad contemplation a smile formed on your lips. A gust of wind had blown in through the open kitchen window, and it brought dancing up to your nose the distinctive smell of leather, earth and wood of Geralt. And you realized then that he was still there with you, his scent lingering in the air, on your clothes, on the sheets on the bed and even on your own skin. And there he would remain with you forever, because you were his and he was yours.

Geralt of Rivia tag list: @steviebbboi @feel-my-psycho-love

(I'm so sorry guys I forgot to tag you when I posted it)

[ultrainfinitepit]

Probably not the smartest move right before Angeltober, but I got Baldur's Gate 3. It's very fun so far!

Here is my Tav, she is a drow cleric named Charity. She was found and adopted by a cleric of Kelemvor and raised in a convent. Charity never knew her biological parents. Her name comes from being called that cleric's "charity case" and then the name Charity stuck.

[kingtomura]

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words.  wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen. 

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor. 

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something. 

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!” 

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.” 

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side. 

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.  

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all. 

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most. 

You had no idea what he was up to. 

Maybe he was as depressed as you were. 

Maybe he’s found someone else. 

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous. 

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees. 

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id. 

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you. 

To your surprise, he hadn’t. 

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers. 

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing. 

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do. 

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura. 

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far. 

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet. 

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that. 

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile. 

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!” 

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day. 

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle. 

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge. 

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch. 

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura. 

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you. 

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession. 

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw. 

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time. 

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy. 

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake. 

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by. 

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?” 

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you. 

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that. 

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there. 

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore. 

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously? 

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective. 

But things are always easier said than done. 

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly. 

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you. 

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination. 

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment. 

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down. 

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now. 

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it. 

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard. 

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall. 

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet. 

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to. 

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen. 

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away. 

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him. 

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of. 

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on. 

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.  

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections. 

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull. 

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face. 

“Stop walking away from me!” 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner. 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch. 

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment. 

Cat and mouse. 

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest. 

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would. 

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed. 

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact. 

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer. 

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible. 

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity. 

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt. 

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well. 

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more. 

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning  as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course. 

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer. 

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over. 

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression. 

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure. 

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure. 

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t. 

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high. 

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality. 

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell. 

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now. 

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time. 

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him. 

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom. 

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock. 

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon. 

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!” 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy. 

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication. 

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well. 

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.” 

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek. 

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.  

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it. 

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word. 

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. 

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it. 

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high. 

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again. 

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup. 

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible. 

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking. 

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.” 

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?” 

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment. 

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles. 

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?” 

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is. 

“Tomura…” 

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it. 

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.” 

And it’s the truth. 

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss. 

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine. 

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

[puckinghischier]

Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

~

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Give and Take 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Steve and Charity

Summary: the women's shelter harbours a particularly suspicious character.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, Steve,” Leanne greets him as the door blows shut behind him. The unusually windy day has him out of sorts. “Breezy out, huh?”  

“Yeah,” he does his best to tidy his hair. So much for that new pomade. He straightens the lapels of his jacket his tie swept over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late.”  

“Right on time.” She assures him.  

The door opens and blows back on its hinges. Steve turns as a flurry gusts in around the figure. Charity trips through and barely saves the box in her arms from overturning. Steve is quick to steady it, his skin tingling as he touches her tweed sleeves. She smiles at him with a thanks.  

“I’ve got some surprises,” she announces over his head, “it’s why I’m behind.” 

She’s breathless. He is too. He stays close. Do something, Rogers. She’s right there. 

“Can I help?” He asks. 

She bats her eyes at him and her full cheeks get rounder, “sure can. You're such a doll.” 

She hands him the box and he takes it without falter. It’s heavy but he won’t let her see that. He peeks at the hastily closed flaps, he can see something peeking in the small space between the cardboard. 

“There’s more in my car,” she says. “Lea, you mind if I leave my bag with you while I get the stuff?” 

“Sure thing,” the receptionist replies. 

Everyone likes Charity. She’s a bright spot even when times are tough. At the shelter, almost every day is rough. Of course, they don’t have to be there but they choose to be. Those who come seeking help don’t have that choice. 

Steve watches her swirl out and stares dumbly after her. Her beret is crooked, the bow of her blouse is half out over her jacket, and her pleated skirt catches the wind dangerous. Her full calves and the bottom of her thighs peek out at him with the rise in her hem. 

“What’s in it, then?” Leanne asks. 

Steve turns and clears his throat. He comes forward and leans the box on the corner of the desk. He squints as he pulls back a flap. He hums as he reaches in. 

“Tampons,” he takes a package out. 

Leanne laughs. Steve is slightly embarrassed but why should he be? Women need those things and that’s what they do here. Give women what they need. 

Charity returns again. She has a whole wagon of boxes behind her. She bounces in proudly. 

“Forgot I still had this thing in my car,” she beams. 

“I could’ve helped,” Steve snaps out of his daze and shoves the package back in the box. 

“Oh, no, all good.” 

“Where’d you get all this?” Leanne wonders as she taps the box with her pen. 

“Work! We did a promotional deal with a pharmacy and I was talking to the local owner. He donated all this back stock.” She explains bright, “just took a bit of convincing!” 

Steve hesitates. He could be convinced to give her anything. Still, the suggestion makes him uneasy. What did she do? 

“We can do some care boxes,” she declares. “I got some stuff to put it all in too.” 

“Oh, right, well, everyone else is serving dinner,” Leanne clucks. 

“I can help,” Steve offers. 

“Sure,” Charity agrees. “Is the back room free?” 

“Yeah, movie night’s in the rec room so just don’t go in there.” Leanne girds. 

Charity goes to drag the wagon forward but Steve blocks her. He sets the box of tampons on top. 

“Let me,” he insists. 

“Oh, Steve, thanks.” 

She remembers his name! His hand grazes hers as he takes the handle and she brushes by him. Her perfume, a discount brand that smells like cherry, wafts from her. He follows her through the heavy door she unlocks with the code and down the hall. 

They get everything into the backroom, slightly crowded by the shelves of toilet paper and cleaner. She tuts and looks around. “Hope you don’t mind working on the floor.” She’s happy enough to get down on her knees as she takes a box from the wagon. “I got some zip-up pouches. That way they can keep using them after.” 

She takes out one of the floral plastic pouches. He wonders if this was actually all given to her. He’d give her most anything but would a corporate shill really succumb to her so easy? 

He starts moving the boxes off the wagon then folds it up out of the way. He kneels down with her, padding him knees on his coat. He’s too boney to be on the floor. 

“Thank you for helping,” she says. “So, tampons, pads, lip balm, vaseline, lotion, body and face, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste,” she goes down a pretty extensive list as she packs the first kit. “And I even got some chocolate truffles as a treat!” 

“Wow, that’s quite a haul,” he says and takes a striped pouch. 

“Oh, and there’s kids’ stuff especially for the youngins,” she says, “they get a puppy or kitten keychain too.” 

“So you... what do you do for work?” He asks, even though he knows. 

“I do communications. Mostly promotional events and all that.” She shifts onto her butt. Her hips look even wider as her skirt fans around her bent legs. “Boring. I’d love to work here full-time but a girls’ gotta pay the rent.” 

“Right,” he nods thoughtfully as he takes a tub of lip balm. 

“And you...?” She peeks up at him, “oh don’t forget, there’s little slots to tuck the small stuff.” She shows him the inside of a pouch. 

“Um, if you think your work is boring, mine’s... dull. Museum. I do tours mostly.” He answers.  

He likes his job but he’s used to people teasing. Well, he gets to look at art and cool relics and talk about it whenever someone happens by. He likes the renaissance ones with the fuller figures, they remind him of her. 

“No way! That’s so cool. Do you have anything about Letizia Borgia? I read an article the other day.” 

“Some, mostly artists but we have some papal stuff too,” his pulse evens out a bit. It’s easy to talk about his expertise. 

“And the Medicis?” She wonders. 

“I thought you were in communications,” he teases. 

She laughs and it blooms in his cheeks like fire. “Between everything, I do find some time for hobbies. Though I might lose a bit of sleep.” 

He chuckles, a little more tension slaking away. This isn’t as scary as he imagined. He’ll have something to report to the discord at least. 

 “Ha, yeah, tell me about it,” he grins. 

[helloalycia]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when a creepy fan gets too touchy with Skye in a meet and greet, she starts to see him everywhere and you're not too sure if it's true or if she's just stressed from work.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, mental illness and poor mental health, stalkers and just the general gist of everything bad that happens in the film.

author's note: okay so this was long overdue but it’s finally written and will be two parts, just something that came to me a few weeks ago. Hope you like it!! it’s set around the same time in the film, before Skye’s comeback tour, but there's no smile demon, and it’s loosely based around what happens in the film but not exactly that (it will make sense when you read it lol, enjoy!)

"Do I look okay?"

I hummed, half listening to Skye, unable to tear my eyes from my laptop.

"It's not too casual? I didn't feel like dressing up today," she continued. "Especially because I'll have to dress up after and it's just too much, y'know?"

"Uh huh," I agreed, admittedly still looking at my laptop screen.

"You're not even listening."

"If I wasn't listening, I wouldn't be replying," I answered, scrolling through a spreadsheet.

There was a pause and then I let out a yelp when a cushion hit me in the face. I moved my hair from my eyes as I looked up in the direction it came from, realising Skye had thrown it. She was stood in front of a mirror, arms crossed and looking at me with disapproval.

"What was that for?" I asked with raised brows.

"You're ignoring me," she said with a frown, before dragging her feet towards me and flopping on the couch.

I sighed, looking over at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've just gotta sort this damn spreadsheet. One of the interns got into and saved over the top of it and now March doesn't have any content planned."

"First world problems right there," she said sarcastically.

I gave her a knowing look. "That's your social media content calendar in case you forgot. Do you want fans to come to your tour or not?"

At this, she began to chuckle, sitting up straight. "Okay, sorry. Sounds annoying. But still. Do I look okay?"

I rolled my eyes playfully before setting my laptop down on the coffee table and taking an actual look at her. She was wearing a long sleeved jumper with a pair of jeans. Unlike her usual eccentric outfits, this was toned down, though her jewellery was still more than an average person would wear, as expected from her.

"You look beautiful, Skye," I reassured her with a smile, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "Very comfortable."

She relaxed, a smile creeping on her lips. "Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear."

I chuckled before kissing her hand and letting go. "Shouldn't you be going now anyway? Your meet and greet starts in ten."

We were at a charity event where she was holding a meet and greet and then performing for free afterwards. I was with her to support her as her girlfriend but also for work as her social media specialist.

"Yeah, I'm going," she said with a wave of her hand before standing up. "You coming?"

I shook my head as I grabbed my laptop and got comfortable on the couch again. "I've gotta sort this and do some other bits, but Tara is with your mum and Joshua to get some content for your Instagram."

Tara was a member of my team who I managed, and the one who would handle the in-person content for behind the scenes stuff, like meet and greets.

"Okay, good luck with all this," she said, motioning to my laptop, before flashing me a hopeful smile. "See you after?"

I nodded in agreement, glancing up at her. "See you then."

And with that, she left for her meet and greet whilst I got back to work.

I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong – it was a simple meet and greet, one Skye had done many times – but then I got a call from Tara.

"Hey, Tara, what's up?" I asked, balancing my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I worked at the same time.

"Hey," she said quietly and distractedly. "Erm, there's been a little incident."

I paused. "Incident? What sort of incident?"

There was some chatting in the background, but she must have moved away from it as it faded. "It's Skye. There was a fan who got a little too touchy. He started saying some weird things and wouldn't let go of her and security had to escort him out."

I furrowed my brows, concerned for Skye's wellbeing. "What? Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I think she's okay, but she seems shaken," Tara explained sympathetically. "I thought I'd call you to let you know. Mrs. Riley said not to but– well– it seemed like you should know, Y/N."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of Elizabeth, Skye's mother and manager. I'd known Skye as a friend for a few years and we'd been dating for the past year which meant I'd experienced her mother's unconventional style of parenting firsthand. I'd never seen eye to eye with her, but acted civil as she was technically my employer. But now, as Skye's girlfriend, it only gave me more to clash with her about.

"Thanks, Tara, I appreciate you calling me," I said gratefully. "Is she still with you? Skye, I mean?"

"She finished a few minutes ago, left to go get ready for the show. She should be on her way to you now."

I exhaled deeply. "Alright. Thanks. I'll check in. Speak later."

She said her goodbyes and all I could do was wait for Skye to return. She'd been through a lot over the past year, with her recovery and recording a new album and now preparing for the tour... a lot. And she was heavily overworked and the last thing she needed was a creep making her feel uncomfortable.

Eventually I heard the door to the dressing room opening and stood up, seeing her return.

"Hey, darling," I said softly, approaching her. "Tara called and told me what happened."

She frowned, glancing at me, saying nothing. It broke my heart and I couldn't help but pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She returned the gesture, hiding her face in my shoulder.

"I'm sorry it happened," I said quietly, rubbing her back.

"He really creeped me the fuck out," she admitted, trembling.

"It's disgusting, people like that," I said with a scowl. "I'm sorry you had to experience it. But security dealt with it, right? He's gone?"

She nodded.

"Good." I pulled back to get a better read of her expression. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay to do the show? You don't have to. They'll understand."

She sighed, looking down and rubbing her forehead. "I'll be okay. I can't cancel just because of one little hiccup."

I shook my head, taking her hands and intertwining our fingers. "It wasn't a hiccup, Skye. You were assaulted. That's a lot. You can have a break if you need it."

"It's okay," she reassured, swallowing thickly and looking up to meet my gaze with her dark eyes. "I'm okay. I just needed a minute. But you're here and I'm here and everything's okay again."

"Skye–"

"Please," she cut me off abruptly, before breathing out slowly. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

I hesitated, not liking when she did this. She'd always push down her true feelings if it interfered with work, and it never sat right with me. But she also never listened when I pointed it out.

"Okay," I gave in reluctantly. "If you're sure you can do it."

She offered me a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I can."

I chewed my lip as she let go of my hands and walked further into the room, heading straight for the mini fridge. When she pulled out a bottle of water and began to chug it like it was the last drink on earth, I knew she was compartmentalising. One of her coping mechanisms after rehab was to drink water when she felt like having an actual drink, and this was no different.

But as usual, she got her way and the show went on without a hitch. Any mention of the creepy fan was no more and everybody moved on, including her.

At least, until a few days later.

We'd just gone out for some lunch together, making the most of one of the rare moments she had free, and were walking around to stretch our legs when she froze suddenly.

I stopped walking, noticing she had, and looked to her. "You good?"

She blinked, eyes fixed ahead with a sense of panic. "It's him."

I quirked a brow, looking ahead to see what she was looking at. "Him? Him who?"

Her hand on my arm tightened slightly. "From the meet and greet. The fan."

I rested my hand on hers as I looked again, eyes searching the pedestrians ahead. There was a group of people crossing the street, some others hanging by a hot dog stand and some more just idly walking by. But I couldn't see anyone who was acting suspicious or paying much attention to Skye, especially not someone who matched the description security had told me about.

"Skye, I can't see him," I said carefully, glancing back at her. "Are you sure–?"

"He's right there!" she exclaimed, stepping back shakily and tugging me with her. "He's right fucking there!"

I looked again, still not able to see him, but a few passers-by were certainly paying attention now. Worried someone may recognise her and that it could make everything worse, I grabbed her hand and began pulling her away.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go," I said quickly, leading her away from that side of the street and around the corner.

We took refuge under a flower shop's canopy and she started to glance over her shoulder, paranoid, hugging herself with discomfort. I frowned and placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it gently.

"I'll call the driver to pick us up," I said, already pulling out my phone to get her out of here.

She nodded, leaning into my side, and I hugged her with my free hand as I made the call. Once it was arranged, she exhaled shakily but didn't step back.

"You didn't see him, did you?" she asked quietly, half embarrassed and half upset.

I shook my head, glancing around once more. "No. But I believe you, Skye. If you say you saw him, you did."

She sighed, saying nothing else. I didn't let go of her until the driver arrived and took us back to her place. When I tried to speak to her about it, she didn't have much to say and it only worried me further.

—

It happened again, at the end of the week. I thought we'd heard the last of her crazed fan, but apparently not. I was working from home at my place when Skye called me in a frenzy.

"Hey, darling," I answered, smiling at the sight of her caller ID.

"I need you to come over," she said in a rushed tone, sounding distressed. "Please, Y/N."

My smile faded. "What? What's wrong, Skye?"

"I fucking saw him," she said with a broken voice.

I straightened up, pushing my laptop to the side. "What?"

"The fan, he was there, outside my building," she explained. "He's fucking following me, Y/N, I know he is! I saw him there when I came home and he's fucking there and I don't know what to do. Please, come here, I need you."

"Okay, I'm coming, don't worry," I said quickly, noticing she was getting worked up. "Did you tell reception? Security?"

"Yes, but they say they can't find him and I know what I fucking saw," she replied with a frustrated voice.

"Okay, stay in your apartment and lock the door, I'm on my way," I promised, worrying.

"Okay, please hurry," she muttered.

I quickly got ready before making a beeline straight for Skye's apartment. All I could think about was how stressed out this whole thing was making her. I believed her, I did, but why hadn't he been noticed by someone else by now?

Before I headed straight up, I spoke to the receptionist and security team downstairs in her building, but they claimed there was no sight of the fan, nor anyone who seemed suspicious. That certainly didn't help with my unease and I knew it would only worsen things with Skye.

When I headed up, I knocked first to let her know it was me before letting myself in with the spare key she gave me.

"Skye?" I called out, locking the door behind me.

"In my room!" she called back.

I took my shoes off before going to her bedroom, opening the door to see her sitting on her bed, duvet pulled around her like a safety blanket.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She opened her duvet slightly, hinting for me to get in, so I crawled in beside her and leaned back against the headboard. She attached herself to my side, holding me tight with a pout on her face, trembling ever so slightly. I held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I spoke to security and reception on the way up," I started gently. "There's no immediate threat. You're safe here."

"I told you, I know what I saw," she muttered rigidly into my chest.

"I'm not doubting that," I spoke, choosing my words carefully. "But... are you sure it's the same guy? Not a lookalike? I know you've been stressed out and–"

Suddenly she pulled away from me, fixing me with a teary glare. "Fuck you."

Realising I'd definitely not said the right thing, I turned to face her and rested my hand on hers. "No, wait, I just wanna make sure, Skye, that's all." She sucked up a breath and wiped away a tear as she glared at the door. "Hey, I just want to make sure," I repeated, eyes flickering over her face with concern.

She swallowed hard, jaw tensed as she looked to me. "I know it's him. I couldn't forget. He's scaring me on purpose."

I nodded slowly, believing she thought she was seeing him. But I couldn't be certain he was actually there. Still, I couldn't say that without her pushing me away, so I said nothing.

"Stay tonight," she said quietly, looking down at my hand on hers and playing with it mindlessly. "Please. I don't wanna be alone."

"I will," I promised, noticing her fatigue. "Have you slept, Skye? You look tired."

She scoffed. "It's hard to sleep when I've got a fucking stalker."

"You're safe here," I reminded her, before squeezing her hand. "Have a nap, c'mon."

She sighed deeply before giving in with a nod, lying down, head in my lap, which was her signal for me to play with her hair. I pushed her blonde hair from her eyes, stroking it gently how she liked. She let out a relaxing breath as I did, eyes fluttering closed.

"I want my security increased," she spoke after a moment, half asleep. "Please."

I hummed, finding her hand under the duvet with my free one and holding it. "I'll talk to your mum about it."

She nodded and fell quiet once more, eventually dozing off. Meanwhile, I tried to think of what we could do because clearly the issue wasn't resolving itself.

—

As promised, I made it my priority to speak to her mother about her security. Elizabeth Riley wasn't my favourite person, but I had to remind myself that we still had the same thing in common: Skye's safety.

So, whilst Skye was stuck in rehearsals at her dance studio, I went on a search for her mother. Thankfully, Elizabeth never strayed too far from her daughter when it came to work, so it didn't take me long to find her chatting to her assistant, Joshua, in one of the hallways around the building.

Approaching them, I stopped between them and watched as their conversation came to a halt when they noticed me.

"Y/N, hey," Joshua greeted with a warm smile. "It's good to see you."

I returned his smile. "You too, Joshua. Sorry to interrupt. I was actually hoping I could have a quick chat with Elizabeth?"

My eyes fell to the older woman, who glanced at Joshua with a knowing nod before looking to me with a small smile.

"Sure thing, Y/N," she said nonchalantly, before adding to Joshua, "Get that merch order rectified, Joshua, thanks."

Joshua nodded obediently before flashing me another smile and leaving us be. I watched him leave and looked back to Elizabeth with a serious expression.

"What did you need?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. I didn't blame her, since we rarely went out of our way to interact unless necessary.

"It's about Skye," I spoke quietly, in an urgent tone. "You know the whole thing that happened with that crazy fan at her meet and greet last week? It really freaked her out."

"Yes, I know, I was there," she said dismissively. "It was a lot, but it was taken care of. Nobody's seen the guy since. Clearly security scared him off."

I ignored her dismissal and responded, "Skye thinks she's seen him this week."

She lifted a brow, skeptical. "Thinks?"

"She's seen him," I corrected myself, realising how it sounded. "When we were out for lunch. And again, yesterday, outside of her apartment building."

She hummed, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "And did he approach her?" I shook my head, and she continued, "Did you see him?"

"Well, no," I answered, a little sheepish, "but she's really upset. And understandably so." I straightened up, meeting Elizabeth's stern gaze. "She wants more security. She's being stalked."

Definitely not reacting how I expected to, she sighed deeply like this was a minor inconvenience at most. "Y/N, if she's the only one who's seen him, she might be seeing things."

"With all due respect–"

"Skye is stressed out right now," she cut me off, adamant. "There's lots to worry about with her comeback tour. I love her, but she's got a lot to balance and that unfortunate encounter at her meet and greet may have startled her. If nobody else has seen him, you included, how likely is it that he's there?"

I pressed my lips together firmly, unsure how else to respond. Admittedly, a small part of me could see where she was coming from and I hated it.

"Her security team is great as it is," she finished decisively. "I don't think she needs more."

I swallowed thickly, feeling a little helpless, especially as I imagined telling Skye her mother's response. "She's really scared, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth motioned to me casually. "Let her know she's okay then. That's what you're there for, isn't it?"

And just like that, I was reminded why I heavily disliked her.

"She's safe, Y/N," she told me with a knowing look. "There's no stalker. My daughter is just tired. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

I clenched my jaw slightly as she walked away without a care in the world. Or, at least not for her daughter.

Dreading what was to come with Skye, I tried to distract myself with my own work, finding a spare table and chair to sit at with my laptop. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell her, but it definitely couldn't be that her mum didn't believe her.

After her rehearsals were over, she found me at my laptop, still sweaty as if she'd come straight to me before showering.

"Hey," she called out, making me look up.

She sat at the edge of the table and looked down to me.

"Hey, Skye," I greeted with a smile, trying my very best to hide my nerves. "How were rehearsals?"

"Alright," she answered with a shrug, wiping her face with her sweat towel.

"And your back?" I asked considerately. "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, I didn't. You don't have to ask every time you know."

I gave her a knowing look, since she definitely knew that I did. After she pushed herself too hard at rehearsals a month ago and was stuck recovering for a few days after, ice pack glued to her back, I couldn't let her do it again.

"I took it easy," she promised, pushing herself off the table.

Believing her, I nodded and let it go.

"Did you talk to my mum about my security?" she asked after a moment, and I internally panicked.

Buying myself a few more seconds, I stood up to look at her properly, though the hesitation was still there. Enough for her to notice anyway.

"She doesn't believe me," she said instantly, expression hardening. "Of course she fucking doesn't."

"No, that's not it," I found myself saying without thinking. "She just... thinks you have enough security already, that's all."

She clenched her jaw and looked away, but her frustration was still present in the way she squeezed her sweat towel into a fist.

"Skye, you're safe," I tried to reassure her, taking her hand and feeling her grip on the towel loosen. "Everybody is looking out for you. And if anyone dares get too close, they'll know about it."

She didn't speak, her head clearly running a mile a minute. She had a faraway look in her eye that concerned me, so I lowered my head to meet her gaze.

"Hey, I'll stay with you at your place," I said softly. "Until you feel at ease. I don't mind."

Her eyes flickered between mine, unreadable, then she nodded. "Alright. I should shower. See you after."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she already let go of my hand and walked away, not in the best of moods. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, knowing I could have handled that better.

—

"...no, I want the one with chocolate in it."

I glanced at Skye with an amused smile. "Seriously? You told me you hate the one with chocolate in it. You said it always melts on your fingers when you're eating it."

She scoffed playfully, picking up the trail mix packet from the shelf. "Yeah, but the two minutes where it doesn't melt is my favourite."

I sighed as I grabbed the one without chocolate in it. "Yeah, and then you'll just take mine and I'll be left with the melted one."

"What's your point?"

I quirked a brow as she stared at me, waiting for an expiation. Letting out a quiet laugh, I rolled my eyes and nudged her slightly before taking the trail mix from her hand.

"Fine, idiot, let's pay," I said, realising some things just wouldn't change with Skye. And as much as I pretended to hate it, I didn't.

She grinned with satisfaction before the two of us went to the front of the convenience store, joining the short queue at the till.

"Wanna walk back to your place or call the driver?" I asked Skye as we stepped forward.

She glanced outside the shop window, probably looking at the weather. "It's not too bad out. Let's walk."

I hummed in agreement, patiently waiting until we reached the front of the queue. As I was paying for the few bits we picked up, including the trail mix I would definitely not get to eat, Skye was already walking outside to wait for me, lingering.

"Oh, can I get this gum too, sorry?" I said quickly, before the order went through, taking some gum off the display stand.

The cashier nodded and was putting it through the till when we both heard shouting from outside the shop. I furrowed my brows, looking out the window, only to widen my eyes when I realised it was Skye. She looked like she was yelling at someone in the distance, but I couldn't be sure.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, before tapping my card quickly, paying.

"Do you want your rec–"

"No, it's fine, thanks," I said quickly, grabbing the bag before almost tripping over my own feet as I left the store.

"...I'll call the police, you psycho!" Skye was shouting across the street, earning judgemental looks off several bystanders.

"Skye!" I exclaimed, standing in front of her and holding her shoulders to get her attention. "What are you doing?"

She was trembling as she glared ahead, and I tried to follow her stare to see who she was yelling at, but other than the confused pedestrians staring at us, there was nobody.

"Hey, what?" I asked worriedly, looking back to her and searching her watery gaze.

Her eyes met mine, terrified. "It's fucking him."

I swallowed thickly, realising she was still talking about this stalker who only she ever seemed to see.

"I fucking saw him," she repeated, looking across the street again.

I frowned, rubbing her arms gently before feeling eyes on us. People were starting to put two and two together, no doubt recognising Skye, so I quickly laced our fingers together and led her away.

"C'mon, let's get you home," I told her calmly, but inside I was extremely concerned for her wellbeing.

She didn't speak, though her eyes were darting around, paranoid. When we reached her apartment building, I gave a heads up to the security there before leading her up to her apartment and settling on the couch with her.

She was leaning on my shoulder for comfort, my arm wrapped around her as I tried to find the right words. But there was no way to say it without making her feel like I was ignoring her.

"Skye," I started gently, softly. "Do you think that, maybe, you might be imagining this fan?"

She tensed up before pulling back slightly, fixing me with a glare. "You think I'm crazy?"

I widened my eyes slightly. "No, no, not at all! But I just–" I paused, trying to express my thoughts better without upsetting her further. "I haven't seen him. Nobody has, except you. And it was a scary thing what happened at the meet and greet–"

"You weren't even fucking there," she cut me off with a scowl, hurt in her expression as she stood up.

"I know," I said with a sigh, before standing up too. "I just mean, you've been working very hard and not getting enough rest and maybe you're–"

"Fuck you," she interrupted, gaze running over me with irritation. "You don't believe me."

I frowned. "Skye–"

"No," she snapped. "You think I'm fucking hallucinating!"

I winced at her words. "That's not–"

"Get out," she decided, crossing her arms sternly.

I stepped forward in an attempt to make amends. "Skye–"

"Now!" she shouted.

Swallowing hard, I let out a disappointed sigh. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Especially because she looked so hurt and betrayed and I'd never been on the receiving end of that before, not from her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm just worried."

"About the wrong thing," she retorted, avoiding looking at me.

I closed my eyes, internally kicking myself, before reluctantly leaving her apartment.

[jarofstyles]

Illicit- II

Check out our Patreon- part 3 and 4 are up there now!

Warnings- Cheating (H with Y/N), asshole H lol

WC- 3.1k

------

“How was the event yesterday?” Niall asked, leaning back in his camping chair. 

The lake view was stunning. Nestled in the foothills of the mountain range, the lake town had always had charm. It was a true small town, despite the string of multi million dollar lake homes, and Harry had found it to be one of his favorite estates their family owned. That’s why he hosted an end of summer weekend there with his true friends. His small handful of trusted people and their significant others- and a few staff with iron clad NDA’s- were invited out to the lake house for the last hoorah of summer activities. Tubing, swimming in the lake or the pool, volleyball, bonfires, even fireworks that he hired out, all of it was being utilized before it couldn’t be anymore. It was similar each year, but this year had a new, important addition.

Y/N, his sweet little thing. 

“Horrible.” Harry grunted, watching as Y/N and Zayn’s girlfriend Hannah combed the bush around the lake looking for wildflowers. “It’s never good. I despise those things, and the fact I have to go to save face makes it even more insufferable.” The events were so drab and dull. Sometimes, in his youth, he’d enjoy the food or the drinks. Winning something at auction. But now it was watered down with people who, quite frankly, didn’t deserve to be there. He could give to charities on his own- and he did- but un-fucking-fortunately, if he showed up then there would be more eyes on it. His presence was just as valuable as his money. 

“Don’t blame ya for hating ‘em. As soon as I got out of them I felt better. But how was Katherine? She splattered you all over her instagram, said she got flowers from ya. Did you?” He knew the answers, obviously, but wanted the confirmation he all too easily got with the scoff and Harry’s head tipping back to finish his beer.  

“Fuck no. I haven’t gotten her flowers since the first date. I left Y/N in my bed, arrived to the event late to get my ear chewed off about how rude it was and dragged around to be photographed even though I’d rather chop off a thumb.” He grunted. “Then I went home, Y/N was asleep so I packed and then… woke her up.” His face grew a slight smirk, remembering how he woke her up with his mouth between her thighs and flowers actually bought for her on the nightstand. He felt awful whenever he had to see Katherine and knew it wasn't something that Y/N liked either, so he wanted to make it up to her whenever he could. The fact that Katherine showed him off like a showpony and lied about flowers she had certainly got for herself was laughable but not at all surprising. 

“It’s so odd to see you like… properly into a girl.” Niall admitted. “I have to admit, though, y’look actually happy. Weird as fuck to see you walk around with a smile after the scowls you’ve become famous for.” It really was. Y/N had exposed a softer, gentler side of Harry that hadn’t been seen before. Before Y/N he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a woman on his lap, and yet he pulled her into his lap whenever he got the chance. Even here. He didn’t give a fuck if his inner circle saw- no, he wanted them to. The need to show off the one girl he actually wanted was overwhelming at times. 

“She’s different.” There was no use in denying how much he really loved Y/N. It was obvious, written all over his face when she was around or even mentioned. She’d taken the stiff iron walls of his heart and turned them into soft molten fluff for her to mold. There wasn’t much shame he had, except for having to hide her for a bit. “I just want this contract to be over so I can move it along. She’s halfway moved in but I want her there all the time. Just can’t have her fully there because… y’know.” Because Katherine liked to show up unannounced sometimes and demand attention. He never really did, sending her off with the excuse of work, but once he got serious with Y/N he had his locks changed and a lack of care that increased as the days went on. 

Harry was an awful boyfriend to Katherine and he simply did not care. He hoped that she would come to her senses and break up with him but apparently, the perks of being attached to his name were too good to give up just because he was mean, didn’t give her attention or affection. He’d refused to kiss her besides the cheek and told her that he didn’t care if she got it somewhere else, but he was on a ‘sex ban.’. Ironic, considering he was the most thoroughly sexed he’d been in his life. Sometimes he felt a tad bit of guilt, just knowing how his mother would feel if she found out how awful he was to her- but she didn’t like the girl either! 

He was desperate for this to end so he could introduce her to Y/N. The woman he was certain he was keeping for as long as she let him. Harry was a possessive man and intended on that being forever, but he cared about her too much to lock her into a secret engagement. She deserved to be able to show off and tell the world- and so did he. 

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s good there wasn’t an infidelity clause, he was dumb as fuck for that. It’s a shame cause she’s a pretty girl, could probably find some other new blood to stick to and make her money that way. But I get why she’s sticking to you. All those people wanting a slice of your empire must be fucking exhausting.” Niall was wealthy, his family going back a few generations short of Harry’s own, but it didn’t have the public notoriety that his did. He often wished that was the case for his legacy. 

“Wish she would just have a real moment of clarity and realize no money is worth this, that she could be getting dick and designer bags and someone else to dote on her. Not me. Never will be me. But, in just a few months it’s not my problem and her arse will be on the curb whilst Y/N will go public with me.” He didn’t plan on waiting very long for that. Perhaps it would be in bad taste to only wait until a day after a public breakup but he would do it if Y/N didn’t have some weird guilt surrounding Katherine. 

Their conversation was cut short by a call of his name, his beaming girl approaching with a basket of wildflowers in her hand. His heart stuttered, his scowl falling to build up a soft, fond smile. His arm opened and he patted his lap, motioning her to sit pretty on his thigh and drape her legs over him- which she easily did. Her breezy, cornflower blue dress hit just above her knees and the off the shoulder cut showed off a nice amount of skin. A necklace she had gotten from him, a sunflower pendant with an H etched into the back hung perfectly on her neck, glistening in the setting sun. The floppy sunhat looked fucking adorable on her, pushed back enough to ensure it didn’t hit Harry in the face. 

“What have you got, my love?” He asked tenderly, hand folding on her thigh and tucking under the hem of her dress. An intimate hold, but they were in their own safe place. As soon as he went public with her, he was going to show the world just how much. HE wasn’t necessarily the public type, but he had no qualms with letting people see Y/N on his arm, draped in jewelry his money bought, on his yachts, in his businesses, with his ring, and hopefully, full of his child. He couldn’t think about the last one for too long without getting hard, though, so he reserved that for later. 

“We got a little bouquet for the table for dinner. Love the flowers you got too, but it feels nice.” Her hand stroked through his ungelled hair, loving the curls they formed whenever he was unstyled. He left it like that specifically for her, and she took advantage of it. “My mum and I would do it every summer, we had that flower garden. Remember the photos?” Harry nodded, he did indeed. He would be building her her own whenever he could propose and they moved further out of the city. “Yeah, good! So, we got some and m’gonna go ask Ms.Greta if she’s got any vases. We’re eating outside tonight, yeah?” 

“We are. Proper grill out. I think she does have some, I don’t remember offhand what we’ve got here but-” He squeezed her leg, letting his fingers press into the warm flesh. “Before y’go and do that, think you forgot something.” His expectant look was clear on his face. Y/N gasped, quickly remedying the situation as she curled her hand around his strong jaw and tilted it so she could connect their mouths for what she intended to be a chaste kiss. Harry had different intentions. Instead, he snuck his tongue into her mouth and used his hand to cradle the back of her neck, slightly damp with sweaty hair, keeping her to his mouth. He was never one to half ass, even when Niall began to fake gag. 

“Alright, fucking christ. Swallow her whole, why don’t you!” Niall continued to make childish noises but Harry continued, ignoring his friend as he hummed against his girl’s mouth. He had few places he could actually do these sorts of things and he’d be damned if he let anyone tease him out of it. This was the woman he wanted more than anything, and he liked the tiny glimpses he got into their possible future. 

—------

“I like this.” Y/N mumbled into his chest. The day had dwindled down and she was sitting on his lap in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. Harry’s chest was bare as her cheek rested against the smooth expanse, the middle of it covered in a thin layer of hair. He’d started to let it grow since they’d begun to see one another when Y/N expressed how much she found it sexy, and Harry was one to please her when she said things like that. “Not having to hide. I can’t wait until you can be mine for everyone to see.” Her lips brushed his pec, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Guilt swarmed inside his stomach like a disturbed beehive, making him swallow down the lump in his throat. While he felt no guilt at all for the supposed infidelity towards Katherine, the guilt lied in having to suppress the most incredible relationship with Y/N. He knew she didn’t love feeling like a secret all the time, and while Harry had said he didn’t care if people found out, Y/N had to think of her own reputation. That was what had him ensuring he kept it under wraps. While people would just see him as yet another dumb, horny man? They’d see Y/N as a homewrecker, a slut, every bad name under the sun. Not to mention the online bullying she’d be subjected to by Katherine, her little group and all her naive fans. 

He’d never cared about someone like this before. Yes, of course he loved his family and his friends, but this was a whole other level of care. It went bone deep. Y/N was the type of person you met once in a lifetime. The type you couldn’t let slip through your fingers because you really couldn’t. Y/N was everything and more and Harry was dedicated to keeping her as happy as possible, but the reality was that they had to hide just a bit longer. 

“I know, my love.” He said quietly, trailing his fingers over the crown of her head. “It’s hard right now. I never anticipated meeting you or I never would have… Wouldn’t have taken the deal.” The words were murmured just for her, eyes searching her own to try and gauge her emotions. She didn’t seem particularly devastated, but there was still that undercurrent of sadness that made his chest twinge. “I know I’ve told you time and time again about how much I am obsessed with you, how you’re the woman I want… But I can’t wait either. You’ve not even a clue about how much I look forward to showing you off.”

While he had complained of Katherine doing so, it was a whole other ballgame when you truly adored the person and felt proud to be theirs. 

“You do?” She peeped, eyes rounding as she peered up at him. Sometimes she was so fucking beautiful that it felt like a hit in the stomach. She was clear of makeup now, showing off her natural features. He loved seeing her in any capacity but this had to be his favorite. Private, intimate, bare. Her hair in two messy braids but still managed to have some strands in her face. Her lips were soft and plump, the overnight mask on them that she had tried to explain to him and he still had no clue what it did other than make his girl happy- his Y/N was his gift. He knew he didn’t deserve her but he never claimed to be a good person- He would keep her forever. Some could call him intransigent, but he wouldn’t argue. 

“Of course I do. Look forward to everyone seeing you on my arm. I think it will be apparent that I’m pretty far gone. People will wonder what magic powers you possess.” He laughed through his nose, leaning in to kiss the side of her head. “You just bewitched me, sweet little thing. Had me in knots when you blocked me, y’know that?” His smile grew. “Never wanted to talk to someone so badly in my life.”

“From what I knew, you had an actual real girlfriend!” She defended adamantly. “And then you basically locked me into a room with you to explain yourself. Scared the shit out of me. Y’know, there were rumors that people thought you were some sort of mafia boss.” She snorted. “Kind of believed it for a bit. You’ve got the whole, tall, dark and handsome thing going on. Mysterious. Kind of a dick.” She yelped when he lightly pinched her side, erupting into a fit of giggles. “Hey! No. You’re a handsome asshole. And to your credit, that was the last time you were all weird with me. Once I believed you, you became a sweet little thing.” Her voice cooed as she reached up to pinch his cheek like a grandmother would, making him roll his eyes.

It was true, though. He’d met her and it hadn’t gone so well in the beginning. His reputation for being cold and callous to new people, to most, actually, didn’t help when his interest in her spiked. He remembered very clearly, watching with a drink in his hand as she laughed with some of the girls. Grinning wide and showing teeth, making his chest do the weird pitter patter it usually did now when he saw her, but the first time had shocked the hell out of him. He’d never had that sort of reaction to someone before. Sure, he found people hot and experienced lust, but it was the first time in his life he craved conversation. To be nosy. So he hunted her, cornered her like prey and had him picking her brain for a while. He’d been gaining momentum, touching her and getting her a drink , and she had been into it until someone whispered into her ear on the way back from the bathroom what he assumed was the information that he was ‘taken.’ 

So what? He had gone through drastic measures to convince her to see him again, even showing her the contract that was notarized. 

“A mafia boss?” He snickered, raising a brow. “Not a chance. Though I appreciate you thinking I’ve got what it takes. No, unfortunately it’s just the multitude of legitimate businesses in my empire, my darling.” His smile grew warm, watching her return it. “Though, if that’s something you want to roleplay in bed, I’d not be opposed.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t be, perv.” With a roll of the eyes she patted his chest. “Never met someone so dirty in my life. Energizer bunny must be a sponsor of your cock because I swear, even being older than me you’ve got more stamina.” It was the truth, but she didn’t grasp how it was just for her. He used to be satisfied with a fuck or two a week, he could go without it if he went to the gym. Being with Y/N changed him to an insatiable beast, but she was his willing accomplice. 

“I don’t see you complaining when my cock is in your pretty cunt and you’re crying for me t’let you cum. Begging Daddy to let you cream all over my cock, because you tend to be a messy little girl. At least m’nice enough to let you.” He said with a straight face. There was no comment about how he could feel her clench on his thigh, but she already knew he could. His filthy mouth couldn’t be competed with and thankfully, Y/N had a thing for dirty talk.

“Alright- jesus.” Y/N whined, burying her face against his chest. “Don’t get me worked up now. I’m a little sore, someone took it out of me in the shower.” The grumbled words made him smirk, smugness and pride evident on his face. If she was really hurt she would let him know and he would grovel on his knees to make it better. “If you take it easy, I think you could have me in the morning. Wake me up with it.” A treat for the man, considering he adored watching her eyes peel open and a whimper sounding from her sleep swollen lips as he slipped in and out of her warm insides.

“Hm. I suppose that’s a fair deal.” He signed, acting resigned as he tugged her closer to him. “I’m lucky to have you, my minx. Always so good to me.”  Even more than he deserved. 

[magnoliasandarson]

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his hand, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Heel, Stay, and Shake.

🐦‍⬛ What’s this? A wild bird in our classroom? Now we can’t have that, can we? 🧪

By My Hand.

Raven didn’t know what to expect when Professor Crewel asked to see him after class. A summons from him typically meant one of two things: a thorough scolding or remedial work. Sometimes both.

She wasn’t the type for either. Raven kept her head down and behaved—and thus stood off to the side of his wrath. And now here she was, standing in the line of fire.

“Wooow, sucks to be you,” Ace had sneered on his way out. “The goody-two-shoes finally gets into trouble herself!”

“Leave her alone, Ace,” Deuce grumbled, “You don’t want to make things worse for her than they already are.”

Even the Prefect, Yuu—level-headed, neutral—had passed her a look of sympathy. But they cleared out of the laboratory the same as the rest, leaving Raven to her doom.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut, trapping her in with their teacher.

Crewel had traded his lab coat and safety goggles for his usual attire: a black and white color-blocked vest, black undershirt and slacks, smart shoes that clicked with every step, blood red gloves, socks, and tie. Over this, a striped fur coat with several tails, the insides a shocking scarlet.

He ran a hand through his hair—black slicked back, white in a graceful sweep of parted bangs. His eyes, a shade of iced onyx, dug into her like the teeth of a dog. Not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to threaten to.

She struggled not to tremble under his gaze. Raven knew it to be discerning and, more importantly, unrelenting in its critique.

“Crowley.”

“Y-Yes!!” Raven yelped, standing at attention. Her posture naturally corrected itself at his voice. Back stiffening, head lifting. “Wh-Whatever it is I’ve said or done to offend you, I apologize! I will reflect on my actions and do better in the future!”

“Offend me?” Crewel’s surprise melted into a devilish smirk. “You’ve done nothing of the sort. However, I’m flattered that you would think yourself in such dire need of my private instruction.”

“Eh? Then what did you need me for…?”

“A curiosity of mine. I hope you do not mind.”

“N-No, sir! Curiosity not minded!”

A chuckle.

Crewel extended his pointer to a line of shelves. “I’ve heard from the headmaster that you care for colorants. Is that correct?”

Raven was all too eager to provide the answer and then book it out of there. “That’s right. I brew some in my spare time. They’re enchanted inks, meant for writing and journaling.”

“Inks? What, may I ask, makes them ‘enchanted’?”

“Well…” Raven gestured to a potted mandrake. “It’s like cultivation. I infuse magic into the ink, which grants them fun properties. Smelling like an orange slice, glowing even long after you’ve penned it, words that produce the sounds they write out.”

“I see.” Interest had started to seep into Crewel’s voice. “Have you ever thought to extend this skill to other areas of application?”

“No, not really. It’s just something I got into to save on pocket money. Commercial inks can be expensive, so I thought to make my own with the ingredients gathered from around campus…”

Raven trailed off.

A glint had settled into Crewel’s eyes. The very same shine that came into Crowley’s at the mention of money or fresh game.

“It seems to me,” Crewel said slowly, “that you have a talent.”

A stone dropped into her stomach.

Uh-oh, here comes trouble.

“I would very much like to train that talent.” He tapped his pointer into an open palm. Each strike light, but had all the gravity of a gravel.

“Huh?!”

“You’re familiar with Night Raven College’s charity ball?”

“Yes…”

She couldn’t forget it even if she tried. The headmaster had droned about it for the last several weeks, declaring it a “prime time” to look good to the public. (Half of those weeks had been spent preening and wondering which suit and tie to wear.)

“School staff are to be in attendance to oversee the event. This year, we’re donating the proceeds to an animal shelter on Sage’s Island—a cause I’m particularly passionate about. As such, I would like to wear something stunning—and to dazzle at a show, you must have the element of surprise. I will be designing my own outfit. That is where you will come in.

“I will provide the materials, and you will prepare the dye for it. I want a unique color and magical effect that suits my image and enhances it.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about fabrics or treating them,” Raven protested faintly.

“Which is why I will mentor you. It will be a collaborative effort.”

“I-I’m sure you’re entirely capable of accomplishing this on your own, Professor! After all, Crewel-sensei is so very skilled…”

“Tch.” He frowned, making his displeasure clear. “You are missing the point, pup. Do you really think I wouldn’t have already done so, were that my intention?”

Raven flinched. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Night Raven College is making efforts to promote teamwork in its curriculum and extracurricular activities. For such a front-facing event, our new direction will be center stage. You’re a clever girl. I’m certain I do not need to explain the importance of this.”

“Surely there are more ideal candidates, sir… Students far more qualified than me. V-Vil-senpai? Or a Science Club member? Rook-senpai might be interested.”

“Of course I am aware of that—but this isn't about them. This is about you."

His pointer sliced through the air, so sharp that it cracked like a whip, aiming itself right at her. Crewel's face was the picture of arrogance, a high and mighty king looking down at the peasants. (Raven suddenly understood why he, of all teachers, was a Night Raven College graduate.)

"Since the day you scampered into my classroom, you've been nothing but a meek little thing. Obedience is all well and good, but you lack a bark and a bite, the confidence to be bold and to demonstrate your ability with pride. Schoenheit and the others already have that.

“You must learn how to speak up, pup! And this Crewel-sama will be the one to teach that to you.”

“B—But…”

“No buts!” he snapped. “If you’re going to reject the idea, then do so with your entire chest! I will accept it as proof of your bite. If you cannot muster that, then you will submit yourself to my guidance. What will it be?”

Raven shrunk back—proving his point. Speak up? Louder, more sternly—against her own teacher? She couldn’t.

Yikes, he’s so fired up about this… There’s no way I can comfortably say ‘no’!

She balled her fists up, terribly twisting her skirt. Raven sighed deeply, resigning herself to her fate.

“… Alright, I will do my best to assist, Crewel-sensei. In return, I will be relying on you too.”

“Good girl. You’ve made your choice.” Crewel offered a hand. “Then let us shake on it.”

She hesitantly took it. His grip was firm and resolute, hers limp and unenthusiastic.

At last, he smiled in satisfaction. “I look forward to instructing you, Crowley. I expect you to keep up.”

Never in her life had she felt more like some poor dog strung along on a leash.

[honey-and-sims]

Lawrence had spent a considerable amount of time flipping through every page of his ledger, accounting for every last penny. As he paged through the worn book, all he could do was pray that there was simply just something he'd missed but to no avail. Eventually, he had to stop crunching numbers and come to terms with the reality that they were facing financial ruin.

He sat down with Winifred to go over the details, explaining that their savings had nearly dried up and their profits were down marginally. At first, Winifred was understanding, but things took a turn for the worst when he mentioned the girls education money.

"There's no way around it, and believe me, I have exhausted every other option in my head, Winifred," he explained, trying to ignore the shock on her face as he continued "but the fact of the matter is we cannot afford to send the girls to school."

It didn’t take long before the blame game started. Winifred insisted this whole mess was Lawrence’s fault for continually cutting costs and giving people a break on their services. After all, they were running a business here, not offering charity. While Lawrence insisted he only cut costs for special circumstances, and despite the fact that, he knew deep down it had gotten out of hand, he refused to admit his fault.

“You don’t meet with these grieving families, Winifred. These people are heartbroken and they need our help!” He insisted. 

“And what about Florence’s heart? Does it not occur to you that her heart will suffer, too?!” Winifred countered. “She has friends at school. She likes school!”

“You act as though I’m keeping her from them; she can see them anytime she likes! And besides, you and I both know it’s a waste.” He yelled back.

The words tasted as bad in his mouth as it felt to say them, and he instantly wished he could take them back; even if there was some truth to them.

Lawrence watched as his wife's eyes welled up with tears; though with her balled fists and scorned brow, he knew they were not of sorrow, but of anger. "Fine, Lawrence, have it your way. Take her out of school then," Winifred said, before adding, "but you will be the one to tell her!"

Without another word, his wife rose from the table, ending the discussion. As she headed for the exit, he couldn't help but to notice the way her shoulders began to slump forward the further her feet carried her away. Almost as though the heaviness of this decision was already weighing her down.

Lawrence didn't blame her one bit. He, too, wished there was something else to be done to fix this mess, but it just didn't make sense any other way. Not when so many girls ended up housewives, and with any luck, would be happy with that. He just hoped that in time, Winifred and his girls would come to understand someday, and find a way to forgive him.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

"I Need a Raise." | Damian Wayne/Robin & Magician!OC

Synopsis: Damian requests for a raise in his allowance and gets a reality check with how things are done. But with his secrecy on his project, Vivian decides to dig deeper and finds something that surprises her about the boy.

Damian Wayne grew up comfortably with servants doing his bidding. Sure, his grandfather and his mother would have him undergo brutal training, but after that, he would have someone to ask for anything he wanted. When he learned who his father was, Damian expected the same treatment—servants, and he gets to do what he pleases. But that wasn't the case.

Upon coming to his father's home, he found out that Bruce Wayne only had one butler and a wife who was not like his mother at all. Vivian Pryor was a normal-looking woman. A bit plain in his opinion, but for the red hair that Damian wouldn't admit was alluring, she was intelligent in her own field. Nothing like his mother at all who can do almost everything and seduce anyone she wants.

His relationship with Vivian started rocky, after a while, Damian admitted that he was being an insensitive brat then and regrets destroying the thing that meant so much to her. Ever since his apology he would wake up in the morning and water the gardens and clean Helena's stone. There was never a day when the garden was unkempt and the flowers wilted. Sometimes Vivian would be the first there and he would join her, and the two would work in comfortable silence.

That was until one morning while gardening with Vivian, Damian said, "I've asked Father about my school allowance."

"And?" Vivian asked her to focus on the garden still.

"He simply told me to ask you about it."

"And what is this ask, Damian?"

"I need a raise."

"Why, did they raise the prices in the school cafeteria? Also, isn't Alfred making your lunch for school?" 

"It's not enough."

"And what are you going to spend it on? And before you say 'none of your business', I'd think hard about who is the one asking for a raise right now," Vivian finished her work and got up to take the tools back to the shed.

Damian followed her actions and continued, "It's a personal project."

"What kind?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you spending your cash on some fancy gadget for Robiin. Okay? The allowances you get daily are for Damian to use for school, Cheese Vikings, movies, or -- better yet -- savings. If you have a world-dominating project in your little plans, that needs to go with the Batman's bills."

Having heard the whole exchange while having coffee, Tim and Jason snickered, and in rare circumstances shared a fist bump. One of the few things that brings them together, is Vivian telling off the gremlin.

"Father uses his personal assets for the Batman's projects," Damian pointed.

"Yes, because your father is working and is running a big ass company to fund those projects while also keeping this big ass house over our heads."

"And what about those charities?"

"Better the charities than have the government tax you millions for being rich."

"He buys junk!"

"It's tax deduction, look it up! Also, not all of it is junk."

"You ranted to us about the clock he bought the last time that was worth two million dollars."

"Well, that was junk, I'll admit that. But, as I said, it's more of the tax thing and the front on being a billionaire philanthropist." 

Damian let out a frustrated grunt. "I don't see how this is even your concern! It's father funding my schooling and my allowances anyway! You're just the hand giving it!"

"Whoah, there, what's going on?" Dick walked up with a bag of pastries.

"When did you get here, kiddo?" Vivian greeted him.

"Thought I'd drop by when I saw these in Bludhaven. You said they were your favorite, right?"

"For that shop?"

"Yeah -- but not the point, what's going on?" Dick asked.

From the patio, Jason and Tim approached them and the former explained, "The gremlin's asking Ma for a raise."

"And from the looks of it, he's not winning the board right now," Tim snickered.

"Damian, you do know that it's Vivian who's paying for your schooling and giving you an allowance, right?" Dick said.

"What? How?" Damian questioned.

"First of all, ouch," Vivian crossed her arms over her chest. "Second, it's called having a job. And before you say something you'd regret about a professor's salary isn't enough to pay for Gotham Academy's tuition, let alone two of you are going," she gestured to Tim. "I'm not just a professor, I also work in the museum."

"Dude, she's getting paid royalties for her books which are now being sold globally and in different languages," Jason pointed out. "Ma, may not be as rich as Bruce, but she's got cash. Which reminds me..."

"We'll talk later. This first," Vivian told Jason. "But me paying for your education is not the point here. My point is, despite being the sons of a billionaire and getting to be Robin, Alfred and I want to give you a sense of normalcy. And Damian, the money you're getting daily for your allowance is above the normal rate if you ask me. If you want more money, then you're going to do it the same way we're getting money and how these three got a bit of extra. And that money, you can do whatever you want with."

"And what's the task?' Damian asked.

"Chores."

"I already do chores."

"Cleaning your bed doesn't count, kid. This is a big house and Alfred isn't getting younger. Wanna get a little extra? Get to work. I know that you got Robin's duties, but I'm sure you can find a way to do all of this. You're resourceful."

"You're not doing chores," Damian pointed out.

"Hey, gremlin, how about you walk around the place? You'd see brooms sweeping the floors all on their own," Jason pointed out.

Tim chuckled. "Yeah, Viv, next time a little heads up. I almost got a heart attack when I saw my things moving around my room."

"I didn't want to wake you. That night you didn't sleep until I had to drag your ass to bed," Vivian chuckled.

Dick snickered. "I remember the first time I saw the laundry being hung on the line on its own. I ran to Alfred, shitting myself, because I thought I saw a ghost."

"That, I did on purpose."

"Seriously?!"

"So, Damian, what do you say? Ready to be one of the normal people here and be a slave to a good paycheck?" Vivian smiled teasingly at the boy. 

"Or maybe you just don't have what it takes," Tim teased when Damian kept silent.

"Fine. I'll do more chores," Damian said and took the sheers to start gardening.

As they watched him cutting the hedges, Vivian sighed and took Jason's coffee, knowing it was black. "This takes me back."

"When? When you made each of us clean the freaking attic?" Jason said.

"And the guest rooms. Emphasis on the rooms, Viv," Tim added.

"Please, that wasn't even that bad. She made me do laundry once, and it still haunts me whenever I see a pair of black lingerie." Dick said, as he remembered the sight of the small and laced lingerie. He couldn't look at a Victoria Secret store for a while after that.

"Bruce bought it. His choice of color and style," Vivian shrugged.

"Not helping the lack of sleep headache, Viv," Tim groaned.

"I think he's plotting a hundred ways to skewer us with that," Vivian pointed out as Damian kept muttering.

"Totally," Dick snickered.

"I have a hundred ways to blow his brains out," Jason took his coffee back.

"What's with the talk of blowing brains?" Bruce appeared, all fresh from just waking up, and ready for work. "Is that Damian gardening?"

"Yup," Dick answered.

"Why?"

"He asked for a raise," Tim supplied.

"Oh, you're doing it the old-fashioned way?' Bruce leaned down and kissed her cheek. 

"Sometimes it still works."

"So, how much is he getting from this?"

"Oh right, hold on," Vivian then called out to Damian, saying, "Our average is five bucks, if you do more you might get a tenner!"

It only infuriated him.

"Hey, you're lucky! I only got two bucks!" Dick told him.

"So did I," Jason turned to her accusingly.

"Really? I got five too," said Tim.

"Lucky."

"Inflation, boys. Don't forget that."

 Bruce chuckled and wrapped his arms around his wife and savored the touch and her scent before going to work. "How did he ask you anyway?"

"I need a raise," Vivian quoted Damian.

Bruce hummed. "And I guess he didn't take this too well."

"The kid got bitch slapped when Dick told him that It's Vivian paying for tuition and giving him allowances," Jason shrugged.

Bruce chuckled at that. It was an arrangement they both made when Vivian decided to move into Wayne Manor. In their second year in the relationship, they talked about moving in together to make the commute easier and to stop going back and forth between homes, also Vivian has most of her clothes there anyway. It took a lot of discussion, with Vivian wanting to pitch with the bills or at least pay for her share, but Bruce wouldn't have it. It didn't turn into a heated argument, luckily it didn't, but it did involve them writing down on a piece of paper the shares they'll give, and Alfred as a witness, and signing. Alfred even joked about calling a lawyer to make it state official.

The agreement was, that Bruce would handle all the bills of the manor, which were utilities, groceries, and maintenance, and Alfred's pay. While Vivian would pay for Dick's education (at that time it was just Dick with them), from his tuition, uniforms, allowances, projects, and even the gas when he goes to school. She'll handle it. She even set up a college fund for Dick too! 

Aside from that, all personal expenses will be paid by each of them respectively. So, each of their credit card bills is their own. This often leads to Bruce and Vivian racing for each of their cards to pay for their dinner dates. Once, they both startled the waiter with them slamming their cards at the same time.

"And what does he need a raise for anyway?" Vivian asked Bruce. 

"He didn't say."

Vivian hummed in thought as she watched Damian work harder than he usually does when at home. "What's the ask, Jason?"

"I was wondering if I can bunk at your condo for a while," Jason said.

"What happened to your place?" Tim asked.

"And what about your room here?" Bruce added.

"Sometimes a guy just wants solitude. And my apartment is a little crowded now. B's right there. And Artemis."

"You're lucky, it doesn't have a tenant now. You know where the keys are."

"Huh," Tim had a realization and then called out to Damian, "Real estate! Viv's got passive income in real estate!"

~*~

Damian worked for the next few weeks. On weekends, he would wake up early and start with the chores, gardening, sweeping, cleaning the rooms, when he was going to do the laundry, Vivian stopped him. She didn't want any of the boys any of her lingerie after what Dick told her.

Eventually, he got nearly a hundred bucks, still Vivian didn't know what he was going to buy with that money.

So, the day he broke his routine of chores by telling his father that he needed to step out, Vivian followed him. She used the GPS that Bruce placed on their phones, and saw herself parking in front of a dog pound. 

Entering the place, she asked the reception of a boy came in and the guy just pointed to the door where the dogs were.

There, she saw Damian holding out his hands for the injured puppy that one of the workers was holding.

"You wanted to buy a dog?" Vivian asked Damian when she saw him in the pound. Damian jumped at the sound of her voice. She asked the helper to give them a minute alone. The worker scoffed and walked out of the room, leaving the two in there with the other dogs.

"I saw them taking him and I couldn't just take him or else Robin would be a thief," Damian told her. "They weren't treating him right."

Vivian sighed and approached him. "So, this is your project, huh... you should have told me, you know."

"Why, would you pay for him?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, shocking Damian. "Of course. If you want a pet, Damian, all you need is to tell us. We can talk about it as a family. Because a pet is a family discussion, especially who will clean up after the guy and train him."

"I will! I promise!" Damian said. "And you don't have to pay me too!"

Vivian sighed and brought the boy and the dog to an embrace. "You're a sweet kid, you know that? Come on, I'll get you that dog."

"But I worked so hard for his..."

"I know, and I am proud of you. So, for this time, I'll get you this little guy."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Damian looked at the dog and smiled sincerely. "Mother never let me have pets. She always said attachments to living things made you weak."

"Well," Vivian messed with his hair. "Wanna know a little secret?" Damian looked at her, intrigued. "This," she showed the gold flames on her palm. "Isn't all of my power. This is just a small part of it. I sealed my real powers to keep everyone safe."

"Why?"

"Because there's a demon who wants to use my body to get through from Hell to this world, and if he does then everyone I love will be killed," Vivian shrugged. "So, attachment and bonds... I don't think they make you weak. It's what drives you to be strong. Stronger. And just so you didn't quite catch that, you are also one of those people that I care for and love, okay?"

Damian blushed deeply and focused his gaze on the puppy. 

Seeing his embarrassment, Vivian ushered Damian to the front desk and did the paperwork for the adoption. She stuck with him the entire time and even held his hand when they had to give the puppy its shots. On the drive home, Vivian watched as Damian lovingly embraced the dog.

"So, what are you going to name him?" She asked.

"Titus."

"After Emperor Titus? He was a good ruler, you know. His popularity was won through his generosity."

"That's why," Damian laughed when the puppy licked his cheek. "Vivian."

"Yeah, kid?"

"Thank you."

"No problem, sweetheart," Vivian glanced at the rearview mirror and smiled at him.

~ Extra Ending ~

"Vivian, I'll be taking Titus out for a walk," Damian said.

"Yeah, go ahead," Vivian said, quite confused with the sudden announcement. "Anything you need before you head out? Pocket money or something?"

"No, I was wondering if you would like to accompany us. I found walking at this time to be relaxing, and so does Titus."

Everyone in the room froze and just watched Damian with anticipation. This was new. Even Bruce paused mid-sip of his coffee.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Vivian caressed his cheek and smiled at him and Titus. "Let me just get my coat and shoes then we can head out. Alfred, can I get my coffee in a thermos? And how about some bagels to go?"

"That would be nice, thank you," Damian said. "We'll wait right here."

As Vivian left, Damian settled himself in her seat and waited patiently. "What?" He asked everyone looking at him weirdly.

"Nothing," Bruce said. "I'm glad that you both are getting along."

"Are we not going to point out that she called him 'sweetheart' and the devil-spawn didn't stab her?" Tim pointed out. "Dick needs to know about this," he got out his phone and started typing in the group chat.

Meanwhile, Jason was glaring at the boy. "How come she calls you sweetheart?"

Damian had a smug look and shrugged. "I guess we bonded last night."

"I'm ready!" Vivian came down wearing her favorite coat. After thanking Alfred for the coffee and packed bagels, Vivian kissed Bruce goodbye incase he left before they came back, and then called for Damian, "Come on, sweety, let's get that vitamin D."

Damian got down from the seat and followed her with Titus, but before he could leave, he made sure to glance Jason's way and sent a smug look. Knowing fully well how Jason took pride in being the closest one to Vivian.

Jason didn't take that too well and was about to curse at him but Alfred reprimanded him.

Bruce sighed and muttered to Tim, "At least his relationship with everyone is improving."

[fortunekookie07]

Dance With Me - Zayne

****************************************************

Mrs. Li was a hot topic in the hospital. A young woman of thirty years, married to the most successful cardiac surgeon Akso hospital had seen in generations.

A woman of small stature, high status, and great beauty. That was what the hospital staff loves to call you. Your pictures were constantly on newspapers and magazines. Being a Deepspace Hunter was a dangerous job. Fighting monsters that originate from beyond your galaxy was a terrifying thought.

Yet you did it day in and day out. The amount of lives you had helped save was no small number.

What the hospital staff loved the most was when you would make your rare appearance.

You adjusted your dress, making sure there were no creases. The sheer, halter style top of the dress was black and embroidered with red roses. Off the shoulder sleeves draped on your arms.

You spun, letting the full skirt flair out. Small crystals were sewn into the underlayer of the dress and sparkled when the light hit them.

Tara had helped you pick this dress. You'd been very careful to not let Zayne see it. You'd just given him a color to wear so he would match you.

As you step away from the mirror and turn to grab your coat, you call out. "Aria, are you ready to go?" You pause listening carefully. A smile pulls your lips upward at the tapping of running feet across the hardwood floor outside your bedroom. Seconds later, the door is opening, and a curly dark head peeks in.

"Look, mommy, is my dress pretty?" The small girl prances into the room and pulls her skirt up, showing off the pink and white dress.

It's long sleeved with pink hearts scatters across the sheer white gauze. A bigger white heart is splayed sideways across the bodice of the dress. And a ruffled skirt of alternating white and pink ties it all together with a pink satin bow at her waist.

"You look very pretty. Daddy will say you are so cute when he sees you." The little girl beams in pure delight.

Aria is five now, and after much difficulty and constant monitoring of your heart condition, you had been blessed with a healthy baby girl. She looked most like Zayne, green gold eyes and dark hair. Her skin tone and facial shape she'd gotten from you.

"Come on baby, it's time to wrest daddy from work!" Aria claps her hands in joy.

You internally sigh. You showing up at the hospital was enough to stir up whispers and gossip. Bringing your daughter? Impending disaster, Aria was really good at captivating everyone around her. She got that from Zayne. The ability to manipulate it to get advantage? Yeah, that one was all you.

Holding Aria's hand, you walk out to the car with her. She lifts her arms up so you can pick her up and put her in the carseat. She's chanting over and over about seeing Zayne. You kiss her forehead and close the door.

A few minutes later, you're pulling out of the driveway and off to the hospital you go. The sun is setting now, painting the sky with oranges, pinks, and the barest hints of purple.

You park in Zayne's spot and walk to the entrance. A pink rug has been set in front of the door, and elegant words spell out 'Happy Valentines Day' in loopy curls. Every where you look, hearts and streamers are hung, wishing a Happy Valentines Day. You strod over to the reception desk and smile seeing Ivonne sitting there.

She greats you with a wide smile. "Mrs. Li, are you here for Dr. Zayne?" The knowing glint in her eyes says it all.

"I've come to collect my husband. We can't be late for the charity event. He's the main speaker tonight." She laughs lightly. "I saw him going back to his office about fifteen minutes ago." As you step away from the desk, you look to see where Aria has gone, but she is no longer by your side. You shake your head.

Sometimes, your child was just too impatient. She couldn't even greet Ivonne this time.

You make the trip to his office, trying to ignore the stares and whispers about yourself. Being in the spotlight did have its benefits, but it also had its drawbacks.

You can see that his office door is already open as you round the corner. You can also hear several voices. Pushing open the door, you're greeted by the sight of professionals cooing over Aria.

Zayne is sitting at his desk, and Aria is, of course, seated in his lap, soaking up all the attention. You clear your throat. "Dr. Zayne, I'd like my husband back now. We're going to be late. You can see that he is already dressed. The deep red of his dress shirt is a perfect match to your dress, and his black tie is a nice contrast to the shirt.

The doctors in the room turn and greet you. Lifting Aria before he stands, Zayne comes over to you and brushes his hand over your cheek. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. We need to be heading out." Zayne says as he wraps his arm around your waist and then leads you out the door.

You glance over his clothes, and you're glad to see he's already changed clothes. He'll just need to remove his jacket and be good to go.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" Aria says to get his attention. "What is it, princess?" Zayne asks, a smile tugging at his lips. "Mommy picked my dress and did my hair. Don't I loo pretty?" Her innocent eyes look back at him, waiting for his approval. He nods, and she bounces in his arms, all excited.

The whole ride to the charity gala, she's excited bouncing in her car seat and chattering about anything. She may look exactly like Zayne, but her hyper personality was all yours. A fact Zayne pointed out when it was his turn try and put her to bed.

Because this year's gala was kid friendly, no alcohol was being openly served. There was a bar serving drinks to those who requested one.

The moment you stepped into the building, other doctors and researchers surrounded Zayne. It was like this every year. The same director who'd tried to poach Zayne since this graduation was once again at the forefront of the crowd. He's already into his newest pitch.

You whispered in his ear that you were taking Aria to sit at your table, and he nodded back, not breaking his polite refusal to the persistent director.

As you managed to escape the crowd you got cornered yourself. Wives and girlfriends of big influential people, doctors, and investors had snagged you wanting to chat.

"What a cute little girl!" One of the women said, reaching out to pinch her cheek. You weren't familiar with her, not having run into her before. Aria hid behind you, rubbing her cheek.

"My daughter doesn't like to be touched by those she doesn't know." You told her as politely as possible, but the women still took offense. "I'm not some bad person! She said, raising her voice as a red tint overtook her complexion. She was drunk. You sighed internally.

"I'll have you know my husband is the director!" She was completely red in the face, whether from anger or alcohol you didn't know. "Children have the right to not want to be touched!" Your daughter said, peeking from behind your legs. Her fists were tightly gripped onto your skirt.

You placed a calm hand on her head in support. "My daughter is correct. I think you should apologize to her and then to everyone here for causing a disturbance." You tell her standing tall. The other women around you agree.

As if hearing you call, Zayne appeared at your side. He crouched down to Aria's level and stared into her eyes. "That was brave of you to stand up for yourself." Aria beamed at his praise. Having mom's support was one thing, but having dad's support, too? The best thing ever. The woman sputters, clearing looking to have someone take her side. When she finds none, she mutters out a half-hearted apology and skulks away.

As the dinner portion of the evening is drawing to a close, a couple gets up and begins speaking. They thank everyone for their attendance and begin with the donations and items that were being given. They finish by announcing that a new clinc, completely funded by tonight's donations, was being opened, and its sole purpose was to research and treat those suffering from protocore syndrome.

After their speech, the music starts up as the orchestra plays and dancers take to the floor.

Zayne sets his napkin down and takes a sip from his water glass before standing and offering his hand to you. "Dance with me?" You take his hand, and he pulls you to your feet. Aria squeals and claps her hands. "Me next, Daddy, dance with me next!" He smiles down at her. "Of course, my little princess."

Zayne leads you to the floor, spinning you around as you step onto the floor.

From the corner of your eye, you see that same woman again, grabbing a man's arm and forcing him to stand. This must be her husband, you think, as Zayne twirls you around. She drags him to the floor and starts dancing as well.

It seems she means to compete with the two of you. You gesture towards her, and a knowing look enters his eyes.

What most people don't know is that Zayne is a very accomplished dancer. His parents had him take lessons as a child all the way up through middle school. It was one of the reasons his walk was so graceful. Fueld by years of dance.

He wasn't too bad a teacher either. When you'd told him you had never taken any dance lessons while planning your wedding, he'd set aside time and taught you himself.

You didn't have his natural grace, but you could definitely hold your own.

The music picked up speed and changed tempo. It seemed that the musicians had noticed your little battle and decided to make it more entertaining for the bystanders.

A few minutes later, you noticed the woman had stopped. It seemed she was out of breath, unable to keep up any longer.

When the song ended, the man came over, and you finally recognized him as the director of Akso Hospital "Dr. Zayne, you should really leave some talents and skills for the rest of us." He joked with a smile. The woman next to him just sulked. Clearly, she'd wanted to show you up and failed miserably.

You heard feet running your way and turned around to see Aria coming towars you. "Daddy, daddy, my turn, my turn!" She held her arms out waiting to be picked up as she bounced up and down.

You watched them dance, thinking this is what true happiness was. Your heart and soul right there in front of you, nothing could beat this little piece of heaven.

****************************************************

I'm not sure about the end on this one, and I think it's too long.

I tried to write a short one, but I also really wanted to include them having a child annnnd it just couldn't be shorter. 😖

I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

Happy V day!

[jnnul]

first love chronicles

first love comes in all shapes and forms. and every single one of them is every as beautiful as the rest. i have poured my soul into each one of these so i hope that you find love in these, for each of these stories have been filled with it.

something about these mirrors

you and shotaro have always been friendly with each other. as in, you have to be friends with each other because you've been each others' dance partner for the past twelve years. it's as though no matter how old you grow, how many different styles you try, or even how far apart you move, the two of you always manage to find each other on the dance floor. it's a blessing and a curse but when a dance competition for charity brings the two of you together after years apart, something about the way your body moves with his makes shotaro rethink all your years of dancing together.

find love here: still searching for love

mr. brawn and ms. brain

you hate athletes. eunseok is an athlete. eunseok is in love with you. it doesn't take a genius to see that there's an issue with this equation. after a one-sided love for the past three years, eunseok is saved when the two of you are partnered to work on an english project together. which means that eunseok's first step of getting you to fall in love with him is done. next step: get you to give him the time of day...

find love here

why ares fell in love with aphrodite

sometimes first love doesn't come in the form of sandbox friendships or in shared popsicles under sweltering sun. sometimes, first love is the smell of diesel from revving engines. or the feeling of cool beer cans under your fingertips. or the look in someone's eyes when you know that you shouldn't be caught dead with them. sometimes, when first love is learning that ares fell in love with aphrodite because love can be just dangerous as war.

find love here: still searching for love

listening to the ocean with the seashell you brought from home

there's something about permanent fixtures in life. parents, best friends...siblings. and sometimes most importantly, siblings' best friends. park wonbin has always shone a little too bright. the kind of bright that gives you butterflies, even though you know that he's never meant it in that way. you've loved wonbin from the day your brother had brought him home. so why is it that thirteen years later, you still love him?

find love here: might have found love...

and i feel it now

seunghan sees his kid sister as just that: a kid. he's always been the overprotective type, chasing his sister around with sweatpants to go over the micros she preferred. and by proxy, as her best friend, you've kinda always been someone that seunghan has felt protective and somewhat overbearing towards. but when he sees you for the first time in years at college graduation, seunghan is forced to face the reality that all the boundaries he'd created in his head were just in his head and that maybe he'd never quite seen you as the kid he'd always thought you'd be.

find love here: still searching for love

slip away

sohee knows two things: he wants to be a singer and he wants to grow old with you. he doesn't quite care about in which form that he grows old with you but sohee can't even imagine a world where you don't exist. you're just as necessary to him as food or water. but as the two of you grow older and start to grow apart, sohee understands that distance only makes the heart grow fonder and that he's been in love with a long damn time with you.

find love here: still searching for love

i like me better

there are a few givens in life: birth, death, and the fact that neither you or anton will ever confess your feelings to each other. even though the two of you have been in the same friend group for years, and everyone around you know not to make a move on either of you because you were spoken for, those three words would never come out. but then the summer that changes everything comes and you find yourself realizing that matters of the heart never stay hidden for too long.

find love here: still searching for love

[liaromancewriter]

Chasing Cars

Premise: It’s the first day of a new intern year, and Ethan’s patience is at an all-time low.

Book: Open Heart Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Sienna Trinh, F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 975

A/N: This fic is set during Book 1, Ch 2 when Sienna tells Ethan Dr. Toussaint is looking for him. I got inspired by my new re-read and @dr-colossal-pita saying "Do it!" lol

Ethan Ramsey had just stepped off the elevator when he heard the familiar sounds of a Code Blue being called. He didn’t have a patient on this floor with severe enough complications to warrant the Code team. So, he didn’t pay any attention to it.

Mentally reviewing his to-do list, he strode towards the nurses’ station to check in on the patient he’d assigned to Valentine and Emery. He’d already had two run-ins with the former but had yet to meet Harper’s niece.

When they had worked on the emergency thoracotomy this morning, Ethan hadn’t connected the fresh-faced intern in scrubs with the Valentine whose residency application had caught his eye. It was early days, but he had high hopes for her.

If only she didn’t make him so damned nervous.

Both times they met today, something unspoken passed between them. It was unnerving for a man—an accomplished doctor—in his mid-thirties to feel this antsy about a woman, and an intern at that.

He shook his head at the unruly thoughts crowding his head. Shake it off, Ramsey.

Ethan was about to pull up the patient chart when panicked voices echoed from his patient’s room. He immediately recognized one of them and, recalling the Code Blue, rushed down the hall to ensure the interns hadn’t killed anyone.

“What the hell is going on in here, Rookie?” Ethan barked, glaring at the two interns.

“She was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed,” Valentine explained, breathless from performing chest compressions.

Ethan, who’d been expecting a dozen feeble excuses and was ready to blast through all of them, paused at the thoughtful response.

“Well… at least you're taking responsibility. Sometimes, patients don't know about their own allergies. That’s why you always have to be cautious.”

He was surprised at how calm he sounded. Unfortunately for Valentine, it didn’t last long.

Despite the successful save, Ethan waited until Varma was gone before turning his ire back to the person who had let him down mere hours after promising they wouldn’t.

“And you…” he folded his arms across his chest and glared at Valentine, “you need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here. It doesn't matter that it’s your first day, or that you're still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you.”

“…I know, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan could tell she was remorseful, but medicine was a life-or-death business. There was little room for error. The training wheels were off. He needed to make sure she understood that.

“You still have no idea what's wrong with her, and your first effort nearly killed her. This is the real world. No room for mista—”

“Hi! Dr. Ramsey? Sorry to interrupt.”

“For the love of god, what now?”

He turned at the sound of a perky voice and nearly cursed at the sight of the petite intern. She lingered awkwardly in the doorway, staring at him as if he’d sprouted horns and a pitchfork tail. Great. Now he was the ogre.

“One of the nurses told me… that one of the other interns told them… that one of the doctors said…”

“Skip to the point,” he said, impatience coloring his tone. He really hated the first day of intern year.

“Dr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently!”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled under his breath, “Lord save me from interns.”

He threw Valentine a warning look. “Remember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you'd better have solved this case.”

The other intern jumped out of his as he swept out of the room and stomped toward the elevator bank.

What the hell did Toussaint want? If this was about the annual charity golf tournament again, Ethan had a few choice words about where the other doctor could shove his invitation.

The elevator was crowded, and Ethan muscled his way off when it stopped at Toussaint’s floor. He marched down the quiet hallway where a few senior doctors had offices. At this time of day, most were in the clinic or department meetings.

That was fortuitous because he was not in the mood to make small talk. He was running behind, first because of the Code Blue and now this unplanned detour.

Why couldn’t the man have just emailed him or sent a page instead of dispatching an intern?

“Ramsey?” Toussaint looked up in surprise at his perfunctory rap on the half-open door. “What can I do for you? Let me guess. You changed your mind about the golf tournament?”

“No,” said Ethan, leaning against the doorjamb. “I heard you wanted to see me.”

“Not me,” said the other doctor, stepping out from behind his desk. “I’m on my way out, in fact. Are you sure they said it was me?”

Ethan thought back to the interaction on the fifth floor and the chance interruption that had cut short his blistering putdown. His eyes narrowed to blue steel. Maybe it hadn’t been a coincidence after all, but a carefully planned tactic to protect a fellow intern.

“It was an intern, so who even knows if they got it right,” Ethan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

“Or you’ve just been hazed,” Toussaint laughed, clearly enjoying his predicament.

Rather than argue, Ethan nodded and waved goodbye.

As he waited for the elevator, the shrill beep of his pager pierced the quiet. Ethan cursed under his breath, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be at a diagnostics team meeting.

On top of everything else, Naveen was acting strange—secretive, even. What was that about?

One thing at a time, Ethan told himself. Right now, his focus had to be on his patients and ensuring the interns made it through the first day in one piece. Naveen could wait a little longer.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash @lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @loreofyore

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Hey baby! I’d like to request a story about Marcello always being flirty around famous reader, joking about marrying/dating her online or on interviews idk, they r friends but nothing happens between them because she doesn’t take him seriously and thinks hes only messing around

Then idk he gets jealous after seeing her with someone and she realizes he actually likes her, then hook up lol

Thanks 🩵

hello my love! i absolutely love this!! you’re wish is my command🫶🏼

pairing: marcello hernandez x f! famous reader

Y/N had grown accustomed to Marcello Hernandez’s flirtatious remarks. Whether it was during a shared interview or his playful Instagram comments, the comedian made a habit of keeping the world entertained by fanning the flames of a romance that didn’t exist.

“I’m just saying, if she gave me a chance, I’d treat her like a queen,” Marcello had said in a late-night talk show interview just last week. The audience erupted in laughter as he winked at the camera, adding, “Y/N, if you’re watching, you know where to find me.”

Y/N, of course, had seen the clip. It had popped up on her feed within hours, with fans flooding her mentions, teasing her about “Marcello’s latest proposal.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

Marcello had been a friend for years, someone who effortlessly brightened any room he walked into. They met during a charity event early in her career when he’d stepped in to save her from an overly persistent journalist.

“You looked like you needed a laugh,” he’d told her, handing her a cup of champagne and launching into a joke so absurd she couldn’t stop laughing.

From then on, they clicked. He became her go-to for lighthearted banter, someone who could make her forget the pressures of fame. But while his online antics often led to fans “shipping” them, Y/N dismissed it as part of Marcello’s schtick.

He couldn’t possibly be serious. Could he?

It wasn’t until she attended a high-profile dinner party, dressed in a sleek black gown that clung to her figure like a second skin, that everything changed. Y/N had brought along her co-star, David, as her plus-one. The two of them had been paired in a recent rom-com, and their easy chemistry had sparked dating rumors.

Marcello was there, of course, holding court at a table with a group of comedians. But the moment his eyes landed on Y/N and David, his trademark grin faltered.

She caught him staring several times throughout the night, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by something… heavier.

“Everything okay?” she asked when they finally found themselves alone near the bar.

“Fine,” Marcello replied, too quickly. “You look great, by the way.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

His gaze flicked to David, who was deep in conversation with another guest, then back to her. “So… you and him? That a thing now?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Marcello nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Right. Just friends.”

The rest of the evening, Marcello was unusually subdued. He didn’t crack jokes, didn’t flirt, and when she left with David, she swore she saw something close to heartbreak in his eyes.

It hit her the next morning while scrolling through her phone. A fan account had posted side-by-side photos of her with David and Marcello, captioned: Who’s the better match?

She stared at the image of Marcello, his arm casually draped around her shoulders from an old press event. The way he was looking at her in the photo soft, almost reverent made her stomach flip.

Had she been blind to his feelings this whole time?

Determined to clear the air, Y/N showed up unannounced at Marcello’s apartment later that day.

“Y/N,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” she said, stepping inside.

Marcello leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, suddenly unsure how to begin. “Why have you been acting weird lately?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Weird? That’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Marcello stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. You want to know why I’ve been weird? It’s because I’m tired, Y/N. Tired of pretending that all this joking and flirting doesn’t mean something to me.”

Her breath caught.

“I like you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve liked you for a long time. And it sucks watching you with other guys, knowing you don’t take me seriously.”

“Marcello…”

“Forget it,” he said, turning away. “I’m just the funny guy, right? Not someone you’d actually—”

He didn’t get to finish because Y/N closed the distance between them and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It was fierce and full of pent-up emotion, her hands fisting in his shirt as he froze in shock before kissing her back just as passionately.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless.

“Do you take me seriously now?” he asked, his forehead resting against hers.

She laughed softly, tears in her eyes. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Marcello’s lips moved against hers like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment. His hands, strong and sure, cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing hers against the wall of his apartment.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin and the firm muscles beneath her fingertips. “Then show me,” she whispered, her voice breathless.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He scooped her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the couch. They barely made it before his mouth found hers again, hot and insistent, his hands roaming her body as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Good,” she replied, her nails raking lightly down his back.

Marcello pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of desire and awe. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but fervent. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. “Then stop holding back.”

A low groan escaped him as he claimed her lips once more, his kisses trailing down her jawline and along her collarbone. His hands moved with purpose, sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and exposing more of her to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with need as he kissed his way down her chest.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her body arching into his touch as he worshipped her with every kiss and caress. The tension between them built like a fire, each touch igniting something deeper until they were both lost in the moment.

Marcello’s hands were everywhere—on her hips, her thighs, her waist—his touch both tender and possessive. “I want to make you feel good,” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You,” she breathed, her fingers clutching at him. “Just you.”

The rest of the night was a blur of heated kisses, whispered words, and tangled limbs as they gave in to the passion that had been simmering between them for years. Marcello was attentive, his touch reverent as he took his time exploring every inch of her, making her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

And when it was over, when they lay entwined on the couch, their bodies still humming with the aftershocks of their connection, Y/N looked up at him and smiled.

“I should’ve taken you seriously sooner,” she said, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

Marcello chuckled, pulling her closer. “Better late than never, right?”

“Right,” she agreed, leaning up to kiss him again.

In that moment, with his arms wrapped around her and his heart beating in time with hers, Y/N knew there was no one else she’d rather be with.

Marcello wasn’t just the funny guy. He was the guy who made her feel safe, loved, and seen in a way no one else ever had.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part Two: Lover’s Auction

Millie’s perspective:

Sam grabbed my arm holding it out straight to display the phone number that was still visible on my skin, I’d scrubbed at it in the shower this morning which made it fade a little but was still clearly readable. I knew training would be a show and tell this morning so tried to cover it with a long sleeve under top, but in a blind haze after a rigorous training session I mindlessly pulled up the sleeves. “What’s this then Mills, you cheating on me?” the Aussie joked as I tried to pull the top back down to cover the writing, of course my friend wouldn’t let me as she continued with her probing questions. “I knew you were hiding something, you never wear long sleeves!” her voice became loud and squeaky in excitement, the way that it does when she’s making fun of me. “It’s just a phone number!” the enquiry made the smirk on my face hard to hide as it’s been years since my last relationship, I was kinda hopeful that this might lead to something good. “Is this what that dorky smile on your face has been about all day?” Sam poked my ribs as the commotion drew Erin nearer to the drama that followed us around everywhere. “Is it a giiiirlll?” Sam continued to tease until I broke my cover. “Maybeee” I couldn’t contain my smile at admitting it as I felt my cheeks grow a warmer shade of red. “Well, you gotta tell us all about it, weren’t you at that function last night?” they linked their arms together as they skipped back into the changing room, dragging me along with them. I didn’t have a choice but tell them all about the girl I had met last night at some random charity event I didn’t even want to go to - not if I wanted to get out of here alive anyway! They couldn’t believe she hates Chelsea and didn’t have a clue who I was! I said that maybe that’s for the best, since the World Cup it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t know who I am and it could be refreshing to not be on edge about ulterior motives. A lot of people I meet only want me for my money or to get into places for free, there tends to be people out there that think I earn a lot more money than I actually do, I’m able to live comfortably but still have to watch the pennies and save for the things I really want. Packing up my gear to leave my phone lit up with a message, “is that her?!” Erin pulled my arm in her direction as they peered over to look for a photo that wasn’t there, I explained they would have to wait and see what happens before I expose the identity behind the phone number. My friends made their annoyance known through loud groans as I left to go home, “bye sweeties!” I waved sarcastically leaving them in the lurch.

Your perspective:

The sun rise shining through your bedroom window made your eyelashes flutter open, shielding the sun from your eyes you squinted at the clock to see it was barely 8am. Mascara stained your hands as you rubbed your eyes, annoyed that you’d forgotten to do your skin care routine when your got home last night. Tapping your phone to light up the notifications you noticed a text from an unfamiliar number, “hello pretty girl, hope your head isn’t too sore!” You guessed it was from Millie but pulled the shirt she’d written her number on from under the bed to double check before replying which lead into texting all morning. Opening Google to search the footballer you noticed she was telling the truth - she is a defender for England and Chelsea! Looking at a few photos you had an epiphany and realised last night wasn’t the first time you had seen Millie. Wrapped in your duvet you shuffled to the sofa and re-downloaded episodes of Eastenders that you’d deleted from the Sky box, spotting the familiar blonde a few weeks ago on The One Show. Sending her a picture of the TV screen you laughed to yourself.

Y: knew that wasn’t the first time I’ve seen you! 🤭

M: you didn’t recognise me? 😂

Y: well no, my recording of Eastenders caught the last few minutes of it… I fast forwarded 🙈

M: Charming! 😳

Y: Next time you’re on TV, I’ll record it. Happy? 😇

M: Why don’t you come watch instead, I’ve got a game tomorrow?

Y: Oh.. idk, I haven’t watched football for two decades 😕

M: That’s okay, you record it then, you don’t have to watch 😘

Y: I’ll think about it 😉

Millie said she was off to training but would like to see you again, inviting you on a date tonight and saying she’ll pick you up on her way home. The next time you heard from her was when she called you walking out of the training ground. You’d barely said two words to each other before being interrupted by some of her teammates, “is that her!”, “let’s say hi!” you heard from down the phone. Millie groaned “bugger off guys! Stop embarrassing me!” she yelled making you pull the phone away from your ear as she argued with them, reluctantly telling you that they wanted to say hi and held the phone out towards them against her will. One grabbed her arm to pull the phone up to her mouth as the other tapped the speaker button. “Hi Millie’s girlfriend!” an Aussie accent called as you heard the phone be pulled away by another person. Millie could be heard in the background loudly contesting what was happening, “what’s your name, Millie won’t tell us!” a Scottish accent asked, you laughed and told them as they screeched with glee, there was a lot going on even if you couldn’t see them – the noises coming through the phone sounded like they were being attacked; the rummaging and fumbling of the phone between different hands, the laughs of the two girls and Millie getting more and more irate before hearing heavy footsteps run away. “Errgh, sorry they’re a nightmare!” she groaned then told you that was her best friends at the club Sam and Erin, usually Guro is around too but she’s injured and not at training today. “I haven’t told them you’re my girlfriend don’t panic, they just saw your number on my arm” she insisted as she threw her bags into the boot of the car and you heard the door slam shut. “Okay, I’m safe now. I’ll come pick you up.”

Waiting outside your house as she arrived you clambered into her car, “hey girlfriend” you joked as Millie’s cheeks turned bright red. “How’s the hangover?” she asked, shifting into first gear and pulling away. “Better for seeing you, where we going?” The blonde asked whether you had to be home by a certain time, you didn’t have work the next day so you were free to spend as long as you wanted with her and as long as she wanted you! It was mid afternoon and she was being very secretive about where she was taking you, knowing it wasn’t going to be a quick date when she joined the motorway heading towards Essex, you know the journey well but didn’t let on that you had an idea of where she was taking you. The longer you drove the more you were certain about where she was going, looking out of the window you saw how the scenery had changed since you were a little girl, the last time you drove this route was with dad in 2003. It’s like you remember every bump in the road, counting the bridges until you got to your destination, your mind fell back into that routine of counting the bridges until you reached the coast. Millie must have realised you had spaced out, placing a comforting hand on your thigh when you pulled into the seaside town and asked if you were okay. Smiling and nodding you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, you were right with the destination – Southend-on-Sea.

You walked hand in hand along the seafront, rode the train along the pier and shared chips on the beach while watching the sunset. You talked non-stop about yourselves that it felt like you’d know each other for years, not less than 24 hours! After eating your chips you took a wander down the beach towards the sea, kicking off your shoes Millie followed suite as you dipped your toes into the water. When the sky started to turn to pink hues she asked you the question you knew was going to come up sooner or later, “what were you thinking about in the car.. when you went quiet?” You took a deep breath before replying, “I used to play for Southend Girls” you said, plunging the conversation into a long silent pause. “I didn’t know that” Millie responded cautiously, anxiously looking down and playing with her thumb ring. Her response caused you to chuckle lightly, “how the hell could you have known that?” pushing her further into the sea so the cuffs of her rolled up jeans got a little wet. “Hey!” she shouted trying to drag you in with her but you were quick and slipped your arm from her grip, running back up the beach as she chased you. Seeing the lights of the arcades still glowing you kept running, stopping at a bench by the road before going any further to swipe the sand from your feet and replace your shoes as you waited for your date to join you. “You’re quick!” she puffed, breathless from the unexpected sprint. You asked her favourite game in the arcades as you took her hand and lead her to the cash machine, pulling your purse out to feed a £50 note into the machine so it spat out £1s in return. Splitting the money between two pots you handed hers over, “did you just put a fifty in there?!” seemingly astonished at the amount you were willing to waste on 2p machines! “It’d cost about that in petrol” you shrugged, seeing it as a fair swap, she drove and you pay for the plastic tat you’re about to win together! Millie darted straight to the basketball machine and you set yourself up at a 2p machine nearby so you could watch her top rise above her hips to show a little skin when she took her shots. It felt like she spent forever on that machine, glancing over to you every now and again between games as the tickets piled up at her feet. You floated between machines, collecting your prizes and tickets until you felt her arms wrap around you and her chin balance on the crown of your head. “Are you winning?” she asked, peering into your prize pot that was almost full, “there’s more in here!” you laughed, opening your bag to show off all your useless prizes. You had so much fun in the arcades but before you left you had to have a battle on the dance machine and swap your tickets for sweets to share on the journey home, you didn’t want the date to end!

Stumbling out of the arcade in fits of laughter and a handbag full of prizes the sky had turned dark, you wondered if Millie would suggest going home but she didn’t, instead spotting a pub close by that seemed lively and went to have a closer look, “there’s a band playing in there!” she chimed excitedly. It was The Chinneries, one of your old haunts as a teenager, you’d jump on the train and meet your friends to go and watch different bands nearly every month. As Millie spoke to the bouncer, you skimmed the posters on the wall and noticed that playing tonight is one of your old favourite bands. “Are there any tickets left?” you called over as Millie nodded in response, “can we go in?” she nodded again, reaching out her hand for you to run over and take. Shuffling into the small bar you stood near the back, you’d entered around the half way mark of their set and shuffled around the people to be able to order a drink. Millie was much taller than you and could easily see over people’s heads but made sure she found a space that you could enjoy the show from too. Right after you got comfortable they started to play one of your favourite songs, screaming in excitement you immediately started bouncing up and down singing the words at the top of your lungs. Millie had never heard of them before but she enjoyed watching you be happy, posting a short video of the back of you to her Instagram story with “she’s cute” written over the top. You couldn’t be identified by the video as it was just the back of you singing with your arm in the air but it made you happy when you spotted it on her insta later that night.

“I think this has been the best first date I’ve ever had Mills!” you gushed walking out of the pub, it was getting late and you really should be heading home soon. “Ohhhh, pet names already!” her voice squeaky and high pitch as she shoved herself into your side jokingly. Your hand slipped easily into hers when she draped her arm over your shoulder, crossing your arm over your chest to keep hold of her hand. “I agree.. (y/n/n)” teasingly using your nickname too. You asked who she was playing tomorrow and what time when you were driving home, you were astonished that you still found stuff to talk about! Her hand was on your thigh the entire drive and when you pulled up in front of your house the anticipation of whether you were going to kiss or not was overwhelming. You desperately wanted to but didn’t want to rush things, the date had been perfect and all the signs were there that Millie really liked you but you wouldn’t know for certain until.. “can I kiss you?” her soft words interrupted your overthinking.

The engine was purring as she unclipped your seatbelt, nodding your head gently as hers came closer, stroking your fringe behind your ear her hand lingered to cup your cheek as your lips touched in the softest entanglement. You could feel the goosebumps raise on your arms as your eyelashes fluttered against her skin, her nose grazing yours as the kiss sealed off a perfect day. “I’d love to see you again” she whispered, her forehead pressed softly against yours. Her blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul, willing you to answer her. “Me too, I’ll take you out next time” leaning forward to peck her lips one last time before leaving. Entering the home you share with your dad he was already at the front door waiting to hear all about your date. You’re still not convinced that he didn’t set this up on purpose but you’re thankful that the events at the auction had lead to a dark time in your life actually bringing you joy.

Part Three