#so it might be a little different from what i originally wrote
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can't wait to hear russ's new albums aaaaaaaa i want to know the track lists
#me#i just wanna know the songs#i want to know which of the songs he wrote that other bands/artists did#like which ones will be on the hits album#his own versions#i might be a little more excited about the album with new songs but i can't really guess those ones because it's new so i have to just wait#but the OTHER ONE#i'm guessing so you win again by hot chocolate will be on there and i know there's something going on by frida#on his last one he already did you can do magic and a different version of new york groove with more lyrics to it#and he did a slower version of since you been gone which he already did the original of in 1976 anyway#and then rainbow did it after#so probably not those(maybe????? i wouldn't mind having more versions of those at all)#he just recently did a video from his studio of no more the fool by elkie brooks#maybe i surrender???? the other one rainbow did#maybe nowhere to run by santana?#this is going to be the fun for me now until it's out#trying to guess what'll be there#what if he does the one night ranger did#or the one agnetha did#there are too many songs help#his brain is literally a songwriting factory that never stops
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wrote that new topmew fic very quickly and now i'm not really happy with it (there's an inaccuracy that i don't actually want to get rid of dfslkdjf) but now i don't know what to work on >:(
#two gifsets are calling my name but i'm kind of stuck#bc i deleted some PSDs that would have come in handy so i'm grumpy with myself lol#tiee ep10 is stalled because that episode is annoying lol#i think the forcebook fic wants to be written more than the topmews#but i don't have a beginning yet or a pov#i like a third person limited but idk where to start#probably going to work on original work rather than fanfic but we'll see#as much as i was like I NEED TO WRITE TOPMEW FANFIC NOW!!!!!! i kind of don't want to now lol#they're kind of hard to write?#like don't get me wrong i'm still annoyed with what the writers did there at the end but i also slightly understand the predicament#especially with book's input it may have been hard to juggle what to include and what to exclude#in fact it kind of seems like they only added book's ideas but didn't bother take/alter anything else? bc there's some stuff where i'm like#mew would straight up not do that lol#so the way that translates into fic is trying to figure out what to include/exclude since the way they wrote him was kind of inconsistent#which i was big mad about at the end#but now i'm a little more resigned like. the turnover for these dramas is insane#and workshopping is really short so i can see why some holdovers from earlier drafts might not have made as much sense based on how the#characters changed through different iterations from the directors and actors#but that doesn't make some of the contrivances suddenly not annoying lmao#anyway reply with an emoji if you read this far jdljsfld#rum.txt
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#i was like lets make a cute little thing really quick and then i tunnel visioned for.... 20 mins?#don't open the tags unless you're prepared for a wall of text#my art#another one of those images which uncomfortably straddle the line between 'my scribbles' and 'my actual work that i put real effort into'#anyway this is me after i was like let's make a proof of concept for a productivity app it'll be fun and fast#and in order to make a full proof of concept i went back to the initial thoughts i had about the app (which i wrote down of course)#so i could. y'know. get the full concept down. and then i read like thousands of words of completely disorganized spitballing. head spinnin#but also did you know that me from what. like 3 years ago? shares remarkably similar ideals as me today. who would have thought really.#i had forgotten about half of the stuff that i originally wanted in the app and now my app idea is slightly bigger#(my already big mind palace app is already. big)#and maybe you'd be like 'wow okay that just means you grew up and developed so you don't need them anymore!' false sense of security it's#actually because i am no longer a student and also have no job so my daily life is different but my work ethic (lack thereof??)#is still the. same. so if i were ever to work in a society again i would need. them. most likely#and the other half of the stuff that i originally wanted are things that i unwittingly wrote into my recent drafts so yeah i got kinda#blindsided by myself back there. 'oh shit YOU were the one who came up with this first. wtf i thought i was being original and innovative'#slight exaggeration bc what im making is like 98% clone and 2% not clone (but maybe still 99% clone bc there might be another app out there#that i just haven't heard of but is like exactly the same as what i am thinking in my head)a nyways#okay yeah uhhhhhhh so i'll be back at some point with more fun words good night fellows#also did you know that ms paint has layers now (not that new news) and also doesn't let you save in layers that's crazy shit
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another man’s marks
pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader
summary: you're texting with your situationship when he asks for a nude photo—but you're covered in marks left by another man. wanting to see what he'll do, you send a photo of yourself, and you're rewarded with a very torturous and enjoyable reaction.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m), come play, bdsm elements, a lot of biting and marking, orgasm delay, choking, some breath play, some pain play, some dacryphilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, some aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior
word count: 7.3k
a/n: so this post came across my dash and i had the thought 'ok but what if you sent a situationship a picture covered in another man's marks?' and i started thinking about how toxic situationship bucky might react and then i wrote the first draft of this fic very quickly 🤭 i actually really love toxic bucky but i'm a little nervous to share this because i just want you all to love him as much as i do 🥺 (and, actually, he's not as toxic as i originally intended but y'know what, that's ok i think). i hope y'all enjoy ♡
you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist
Let me see your tits, baby.
The text message drew a huff of noise from you, one that was half laugh, half scoff. You were laying in bed, already wearing your pajamas—an oversized tee and panties—and catching up with your situationship, Bucky Barnes, before you went to sleep.
His request wasn’t entirely out of the blue. After asking how your day was, Bucky had started complaining about his day, and you’d known the man long enough to know those kinds of conversations often led to him asking you to send a photo of yourself—though he usually wanted a picture of what panties you were wearing.
Most of the time, you didn’t hesitate to take a picture to send to him. But that time, you paused.
You liked Bucky. You liked talking to him and hearing about his day, and when you were together, you had fun. Plus, you liked sending photos of yourself to him, and you enjoyed the fact that he wanted to see your body when he wasn’t with you. It stroked your ego when he asked for a photo, and he always responded with filthy praise that turned you on.
But that particular night, you had a problem preventing you from simply taking a photo. And, really, the problem was partly to blame on Bucky.
From the beginning, he’d said he didn’t do relationships, he’d told you he wasn’t ready to commit to just one person. He’d been clear and up front about what he wanted, and it was nothing more than a situationship, which was fine with you. You liked him, but you weren’t going to beg for more.
But you’d also decided that if he wasn’t going to commit to you, then you certainly weren’t going to clear out your roster just for him. You weren’t going to be one of those girls sitting at home pining away for some guy. Not even Bucky Barnes.
Which, in a long, winding way, led to your current predicament.
After all, there was a difference between Bucky being vaguely aware you were still hooking up with other guys—since you occasionally referenced your roster—and him seeing the evidence of it. And you had to wonder how he’d react if you took a picture of your tits in the state they were that evening…
It had only been about a day since your last hookup, and your mind wandered to the night before. You’d met up with one of the other guys on your roster, John Walker, and had a decently enjoyable dick appointment. You hadn’t expected Bucky or any of the other men on your roster to ask for pics, so you’d let John do what he wanted to your body.
If there were two things you knew about John Walker, it was that he and Bucky hated each other, and he loved your tits. John loved playing with them, he loved sucking on them, and he loved leaving hickeys all over them. Which he’d done the night before—and then proceeded to give you a not very satisfying orgasm.
Sure, it’d done the trick in the moment, but not even 24 hours later, you were already restless again, your body needing a proper release, which you knew Bucky could give you. But you weren’t planning to see Bucky for at least a couple days, not until the evidence of your hookup with John had faded.
Lifting your shirt, you looked at John’s handiwork. Your tits were dotted all over with at least a dozen tiny little love bites, and your body warmed as you remembered the knife-edged pleasure that came along with each little mark. They were so recent, the bruises were still reddish, not having yet fully faded to a dark purple.
As you looked at them, you had a devious thought—what would Bucky do if he saw John’s marks on your body? Would he blow you off, stop talking to you, maybe even ghost you? Or would he need to see you so badly that he’d come over to your apartment? Would he fuck you and give you the release you needed?
Thinking through your options, you knew it would be the kind, respectful thing to send Bucky an older photo, one of your tits when they were entirely unblemished. You had plenty of photos like that on your phone—and Bucky probably wouldn’t even notice if you sent him the same photo twice.
Or… You could send Bucky a photo of your tits covered in another man’s hickeys. You could, if he asked, tell him exactly who had given you all those hickeys. And then, you could see what Bucky would do about it.
A wicked smile crept across your face as you came to a decision.
Lifting your shirt again, you arched your body toward the light in your room, making sure the marks were clearly visible on your skin, then you snapped a photo of your tits. Before you could talk yourself out of the idea that was probably toxic and definitely a little mean, you sent the photo to Bucky.
His reply was almost instantaneous.
Who the fuck did that to you.
You bit back your mischievous giggle, even if you were alone in your room and there was no one to hear the evil way you wanted to cackle at Bucky’s response. Excited thrills raced through your veins, warmth blooming between your thighs at the anger laced in his text message.
You knew you’d be pushing him further toward anger by answering his question—you knew how much Bucky and John hated each other—but he’d asked. And besides, you were hoping he’d take out all that anger on your body in the most delicious of ways. So you sent a simple response.
John Walker.
You waited for Bucky’s response.
And waited.
But as the minutes ticked by and Bucky didn’t text back, your heart sank more and more, and the delighted smile on your face flattened into a frown. You began to think Bucky might actually be ghosting you.
For only a moment, you let yourself feel disappointed at the way your phone didn’t light up with another text from your situationship, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be sad over a man like Bucky Barnes. Even if he fucked you way better than John Walker or any of the other guys on your roster. Even if you liked him more than any of the other guys you’d been with.
Hauling yourself up from your bed, you went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face while listening to music. It wasn’t until you were about to slip into bed and go to sleep that your phone buzzed with a new text message.
Your heart lept into your throat when you saw it was Bucky and you scrambled to read his response, eager to know what had taken him so long. Your breath caught in your throat and excitement buzzed wildly through your veins when you saw what he’d written.
I’m outside. Open your door.
A shiver of anticipation zipped down your spine as you bounded out of bed, an ecstatic grin spreading across your face at the realization that you’d got what you wanted—Bucky was at your apartment. And he was going to do something about the photo you’d sent him.
It took all your self control not to run to your apartment door and fling it open excitedly to greet Bucky. Instead, you forced yourself to take your sweet time padding to the door, your movements deliberately lazy as you unlocked it and swung it open.
Bucky Barnes loomed on the other side, his head hanging between stiff arms, his hands braced on either edge of the frame like he was holding himself back from kicking down your door. His broad shoulders were bunched up, his short, brown hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His chest was heaving as he breathed harshly.
When he lifted his head, the stubborn possessiveness in his darkened blue eyes slashed right through to your heart. He’d never looked at you that way before, and you had the terrible, fleeting thought that you could get used to being the only girl Bucky looked at so possessively.
For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Bucky stalked forward, crowding you into your apartment and gathering you up in his strong arms while he kicked the door shut behind him. It closed with a rough slam that had your pulse skittering in your veins, your heart already pounding in your chest as Bucky crushed you in his arms.
His gaze held yours and there was something about the emotions swirling his eyes, a mixture of uncompromising possessiveness and lustful determination, that felt dangerous. Not to your body, but to your heart.
“You got a lotta nerve sending me a picture with another man’s marks on you,” Bucky growled as he walked you backward toward your bedroom, his hands groping your hips and ass like every inch of your body belonged to him. “You weren’t trying to make me jealous, were you, baby?”
His words were a furious hiss that he punctuated by ducking down and snapping his teeth at your plump lower lip, biting you roughly enough to wring a gasp from your lungs. Between your thighs, you could feel your pulse pumping needily, your body aching for so much more of Bucky’s rough treatment even as you forced yourself not to cower and submit like you wanted.
Pushing against Bucky’s shoulders until he leaned back and you could catch his eye, you quirked an eyebrow at him in a dry expression of amusement.
“You’re a big boy, Bucky,” you said, before pausing to run your tongue along your lower lip, feeling the tender spot he’d bitten. Dark satisfaction swirled in your chest, but you made yourself shrug indifferently. “And I’m not your girlfriend—so if you’re jealous, that’s your problem, not mine.”
“You let him mark you,” Bucky snarled, an accusation in his tone as he stared deep into your eyes.
For a moment—just a brief moment—you saw a hurt look in Bucky’s gaze, and it pricked at something deep in your heart. Something you refused to look at or examine, especially not with Bucky standing right in front of you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that Bucky might’ve been hurt by your actions, or that you cared about his feelings enough to want to apologize.
But you supposed you could take pity on him. You’d tormented him enough for one night.
“Yeah,” you said, cocking your head to the side, a sly smirk curving your lips. “And what are you gonna do about it, daddy?” You practically purred the final word, knowing how Bucky would react to it.
Just like that, the hurt vanished from Bucky’s expression and heat sparked in his icy blue eyes, a menacing smile pulling across his face.
“You wanna see what I’m gonna do about it?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Oh, baby, you’re not fucking ready for what I’m gonna do to your pretty little slutty body.”
Bucky crowded into you, pushing you backward until your legs hit your bed, and then he was shoving you down to the soft blankets. You crawled backward into the center of the bed while Bucky toed out of his shoes and took off his jacket, leaving him in only a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.
Once he’d tossed his jacket somewhere in your room, he didn’t waste anymore time, prowling onto the bed and using his hands to push up the hem of your oversized tee. His head fell to your body, his teeth nipping harshly at your soft belly to make you squeal and squirm as he worked his way up. He delivered the same treatment to the curves of your brests and the delicate skin of your collarbone.
When his face finally hovered above yours, his breathing was harsh and his expression was filled with a determination so stubborn, you knew you were going to have a long night while Bucky showed you why you shouldn’t let another man mark your body.
“You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve got so many of my fucking marks on your body that you won’t even think about sending nudes to anyone else,” Bucky growled, tugging off your tee, pushing your legs open so he could settle between them, and descending on your tits.
He found the first of John’s marks and sank his teeth into the skin around it, sucking hard on the already aching bruise. The spot gave a little twinge of pain from Bucky’s rough treatment, but it only mixed deliciously with the pleasure he was dragging from your body, and your fingers threaded into his hair, clinging to him while he sucked on your skin.
Bucky worked the reddish-purple blemish relentlessly with his mouth and teeth until it was bright again, and so much larger than the mark John had left. Then, when he was done, Bucky moved on to the next hickey, scraping his teeth over the bruise and wringing a helpless cry from your lips before he sucked the curve of your tit into his mouth.
It went on like that for you didn’t know how long, Bucky working methodically down and across your chest, sucking and biting every bruise John had left behind on your body until each one was replaced with a new, bigger mark.
If you begged Bucky for more—or tried to push his furious mouth down toward your pussy, which was throbbing almost painfully with need—he’d simply narrow his eyes at you, giving you a look like you’d known exactly what you were getting yourself into when you’d sent that photo to him. Then he’d work his mouth even harder, even more roughly against your body, until you were tossing your head back into your pillows and moaning your pleasure.
By the time he was done, you were nothing more than a whimpering, pleading mess beneath him. Your eyes were filled with tears of desperation, and your inner thighs were sticky with the sheer amount of desire soaking your panties and coating your trembling flesh.
“Daddy, please,” you begged on a sob, shoving at Bucky’s shoulders to get his attention as he roughly kissed a spot in the valley between your tits, licking and sucking a new hickey into your skin.
At the sound of your ragged voice, Bucky lifted his head, but you could already tell by the determined glint in his eye and the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted just yet.
“Hush, baby,” he rasped in a dark, patronizing tone, lowering his mouth back to your chest and sucking on the hickey he’d just left. “Daddy’s just getting started marking your beautiful body with all the pretty little bruises I want.” His voice was a rough growl that reverberated beneath your skin.
Between your thighs, you could feel more of your desire trickling into your panties, which were already soaked all the way through and sticking to your clammy skin. A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your lips before you could stop it, your legs squirming around Bucky’s sides, trying to grind your cunt against his body but unable to get the angle right.
While you wriggled frustratedly, Bucky paid you no mind, shifting down your body as he picked a spot for his next mark. When his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your belly, you cried out, arching up off the bed and spreading your thighs wider to make room for Bucky’s broad shoulders.
Your fingers twisted in his soft brown hair, trying to push his head down further, until it was between your thighs, whimpering a soft sob of, “Bucky, please.”
But Bucky was having none of it. Despite your pleading and protests, he took his time, only peeling your panties away from your soppy wet cunt after taking his time leaving a trail of hickeys on your belly.
When he saw how wet you were, Bucky chuckled and murmured, “Such a messy little slut, baby.”
He’d said the words fondly and, if you weren’t mistaken, there was affection in the curve of his smile that had you feeling something you didn’t want to look at too closely. But your treacherous heart beat a little harder all the same.
Then his words sank into your lust-soaked mind and heat bloomed in your face at the gentle degradation. But what little shame you could conjure up only mixed with the burning of your desire as you stared down into Bucky’s darkened eyes, holding his gaze while he took off your panties and tossed them somewhere in your room.
He turned his focus back to the juncture of your thighs, shoving your legs wide open and smirking when you let out a helpless little moan at the feeling of the cool air brushing against your heated, dripping cunt. You were so worked up, you could feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing, needing to be filled with something.
“Your pussy’s winking at me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, laughter in his voice as he spread your pussy open with his fingers. You could feel it, your body winking at the man between your thighs like you were begging him to slide inside you—his fingers or his cock, you didn’t care. “She wants me bad, doesn’t she, baby?”
Bucky’s taunting words had you covering your face and letting out a low, tortured groan even as your hips twitched, your body yearning desperately to be filled, to be fucked. “Bucky,” you whined, drawing out his name pitifully as your hips bucked into his hands, seeking more of his touch.
But Bucky didn’t oblige your body’s request. His hands skimmed away from your pussy and along your thighs to hold you behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest so you were bared fully to his heated gaze. When you peeked out from between your fingers, you saw him staring hungrily down at your cunt, but at your movement, his gaze flicked up and caught yours.
“Do ya want me that bad, baby?” Bucky purred, ducking down to nuzzle his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh—so close to where you needed him, but still too far away. On instinct, your hips bucked upward, trying to press your pussy against Bucky’s face, but he held you down, grinning as he went on. “Ya want daddy’s fat cock to pound into your cute little cunt, huh, baby—want it hard and rough so you’ll be feeling me in your pretty pussy for days?”
“Oh god yes—yes, please, Bucky—daddy, please, I need your cock,” you babbled desperately, your hips squirming as you humped the empty air, seeking any part of Bucky that you could grind your aching cunt against. You didn’t care if it was his mouth or his cheek or his shoulder, you needed something.
Instead of giving you that, though, Bucky turned his face and sank his teeth deep into your thigh, hard enough that your pussy pulsed violently and you thought you were going to cum. But you didn’t.
Once the blinding sensation of pain and pleasure passed, you knew you wouldn’t manage to tip over the edge just from Bucky’s teasing. You weren’t going to cum until he finally paid attention to your pussy, and somehow you suspected Bucky knew that.
“Tell me how bad you want me,” he growled, sucking on your skin and beginning to leave a new mark on your inner thigh. His gaze was locked on yours as he stared up your body, past your heaving chest that was already littered with his marks, commanding you with the stubborn, possessive look in his eyes to do as he said.
“Want you so bad, daddy,” you cried, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a bitter autumn wind. Tears of frustration and need were pooling in your eyes again and you knew that if Bucky kept edging you for much longer, they were going to spill down your cheeks. “Want you more than anything—anything—please just fuck me!”
Bucky’s eyes glittered, the possessiveness is his gaze deepening and turning into something feral as he stared up your body. Finally, his mouth pulled away from your quivering thigh—after he placed one last affectionate kiss on the mark he’d left.
“Tell me you want me more than John fucking Walker,” he spit out, shifting his head to your other thigh and sinking his teeth into your soft flesh as he held you pinned to your bed with his thick biceps wrapped around your legs.
Your heart fluttered in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected to get such a reaction out of Bucky when you’d sent him that picture of your tits with John’s marks all over them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Not when he was looking at you like you were his while he sucked yet another mark into your skin.
“I want you so much more than him,” you murmured. “I want your marks on me, I want your cock and your cum in me—I want you, Bucky.”
The words tumbled from your lips—the ones Bucky had demanded—and you were more than a little surprised by the vehemence in your voice, and how easy it was to admit you wanted Bucky more than John.
Sure, you’d known he was a better fuck than John, but things with Bucky felt right in a way they didn’t with any of the other men on your roster. Like the two of you fit together somehow.
And that scared you. It scared you enough that you rushed on, forcing yourself to raise an eyebrow at Bucky and muster a dry tone as you asked, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” You could detect the hitch of emotion beneath the taunting tone of your voice, but with any luck, Bucky wouldn’t.
Thankfully, he seemed not to notice, responding to your words by growling into the soft flesh of your thigh, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He gave the hickey he’d sucked into your skin one last pull, then pushed himself up.
Before you could beg again for him to fuck you, Bucky roughly grabbed your hips and flipped you over. His teeth sank so hard into the plush curve of your ass, you screeched into your pillows. There was more pain than pleasure that time, but Bucky knew the edge you liked to walk and he didn’t give you more than you could handle.
As it was, even more wetness flooded between your thighs and you writhed beneath Bucky’s big body, all the small stinging aches of the marks he’d left blending with the pulsing throb of need coursing through your veins. It was enough to break the damn of your tears and you sobbed into your pillows.
“Bucky, please, please, I need your dick,” you cried, straining your neck to look at him over your shoulder.
Bucky’s dark blue eyes were narrowed into slits and when he finally pulled his teeth from your ass, he continued glowering at you, looking grumpy and almost entirely unbothered by your pleas. You knew he wasn’t entirely unaffected, though, because his cock twitched against your thigh when he saw your tear-stained face.
“Tell me you won’t do it again and I might consider giving you some dick,” he growled, holding your gaze as he ducked down to lick and soothe the bite mark he’d left on your asscheek.
“I won’t send you another picture covered in John’s marks, I promise,” you rushed to say, arching your back and whining. Your body was moving on its own, trying to present your pussy to Bucky, but he only scraped his teeth over the mark he’d left in your skin.
“Not good enough,” Bucky grumbled, shifting to your other cheek and sinking his teeth into your ass, giving you another bite mark. When you hissed at the pain, Bucky relented, stroking his tongue over the spot as he sucked on your skin. “No one else gets to mark you but me.”
You had to look away to hide the way your eyes rolled at that demand. Bucky wouldn’t commit to you, but he wanted you to promise you wouldn’t let another man mark you. Fucking men. You glared into your pillows, not saying anything and hoping he’d drop it if you didn’t respond.
He didn’t.
“Say it, baby,” Bucky growled, leaning to the side and slapping your ass. He managed to hit the exact spot he’d bitten, which was tender from his teeth and mouth, making you cry out. “Say I’m the only one allowed to mark you.”
“Men who aren’t my boyfriend don’t get to make demands like that, James,” you snarled, turning to glare at him over your shoulder.
The two of you glared at each other for a long minute. You knew Bucky could be stubborn, but you could be much more stubborn when you wanted to be—and you fucking wanted to right then. If Bucky thought you were going to let him dictate what you could or couldn’t do with other men while he refused to commit, he had another thing coming.
Slowly, Bucky shifted up onto his hands, climbing up your body with the languid movements of a predator until his bigger form covered your smaller one.
Still, you glared at each other.
His hand pushed his sweatpants down until his cock bounced free, the stiff length slapping your ass lightly. His precum immediately started leaking into the valley between your cheeks, and your pussy pulsed in desire.
Still, you glared at each other.
“Say it, or you’re not getting my dick,” Bucky rumbled obstinately, pushing his stiff length between your thighs to drag against your dripping wet slit.
You sucked in a sharp breath and arched your back, giving him more of your pussy to rub against—but that didn’t mean you were going to submit to his ridiculous demand. And he wasn’t going to turn you into a liar.
“Say you’re my boyfriend, or you’re not getting my pussy, daddy,” you retorted, putting as much mocking sarcasm into the nickname as you could manage.
Bucky’s eyes flashed with so much annoyance, you couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that curled your lips, which only made his face contort in even more frustration.
His hand reached between your thighs, pressing his cock deep into your slippery folds until the head caught at your tight hole. But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he let the tip slide through your folds to grind against your clit.
Need and desire pounded an unceasing drumbeat beneath your skin, your hands curling into fists in your blankets as you bit back a desperate moan. But you didn’t let your face go slack with pleasure, you kept right on glaring at Bucky over your shoulder, even as he repeated the motion, teasing your tight little pussy with the head of his big cock.
Finally, something in Bucky snapped and he ducked down, capturing your mouth in a savage kiss, his lips and teeth attacking yours until both of you were breathless with need. You were practically vibrating with it beneath Bucky’s big body, and even his arms were trembling when you blinked your eyes open as he pulled away.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle deliciously in your core. As he spoke, he tilted his hips just the right amount and pushed the head of his cock into your dripping hole, making both of you groan in pleasure.
“Right back at ya, daddy,” you quipped at him, your voice embarrassingly breathless as you clung to the blankets of your bed and arched your spine, pushing back into Bucky as he pressed forward.
It took one long, glorious moment for Bucky to sink the full length of his cock inside your drenched, sopping wet pussy, and you nearly blacked out at how good it felt after so long of his teasing torture.
He was bigger and thicker than any man you’d ever been with—though you’d never in a million years admit that to him—and it was always a little overwhelming when he first slid inside. But you loved it. You loved the way your body stretched to fit him, the way you could feel your pussy wrapped so snugly around his thick length. You loved the way you could feel him throb and twitch inside you, especially when he was close to cumming.
And you could tell by the way his cock was twitching inside your tight hole that he was already close. That was good, because after all his teasing had worked you up, you didn’t think you were going to last long anyway.
Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size while he yanked his t-shirt over his head. Then he was pressing his bare chest to your back and pushing you deeper into the soft blankets of your bed until you lay prone beneath his strong body.
Only then did he pull his hips back, making you feel every delicious inch of his thick cock, before slamming inside again. Wrapping his arm underneath your neck, he tucked his bicep beneath your chin and held you pinned to his chest, forcing you to arch your spine more and feel the way his hips clapped against your ass as he pounded into you.
“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, baby,” Bucky growled in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “You’re daddy’s good little slut, and only daddy can fuck your pussy the way you need it, isn’t that right?”
“Yes—yes, daddy, you fuck me so good,” you cried out, hands scrabbling at the bed sheets for leverage to push back into him.
“Tell me what I want to hear,” he demanded harshly in your ear, the words sinking into the deepest parts of your brain.
A twisted smile curled the corners of your mouth because you knew exactly what Bucky wanted to hear, and you were only too happy to give it to him. It was safer to admit what you were about to admit because it was the heat of the moment, and you hoped Bucky would think you were just saying it to make him happy. Only you could know that you meant every word.
“You fuck me so much better than John, daddy,” you purred, pushing your hips back into Bucky’s thrusts, forcing him deeper into your cunt until you were so full of him, you thought he was imprinting himself on your very being. “Your dick feels so good, so big, daddy—you’re the only man who fucks me so good, Bucky, you’re the best dick I’ve ever had. ”
��Fuck—fuck, baby,” Bucky bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. He fucked you harder, faster, rutting into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave another mark inside you. “Rub your clit for me, wanna feel you cum on my fat cock.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. You slid your hand between the blankets and your body, slipping it between your thighs and circling the tight nub of your clit with a viciousness that matched how Bucky was fucking you. Your inner walls clenched down hard on Bucky’s cock, dragging filthy groans from both your mouths as he pushed deeper and began grinding inside you.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Never felt anything so tight.” He let out a harsh breath, his forehead falling to your shoulder as he kept up his relentless fucking, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your release. “Feels like you’re choking my cock, baby—I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Choke me, daddy,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop yourself, the deepest recesses of your brain responding to Bucky’s words in a plea for one of your darkest desires.
Bucky’s bicep and forearm squeezed the sides of your neck instantaneously, giving you what you begged for and cutting off some of your air so you were forced to gasp for every little breath. You pussy squeezed tighter around his cock, wringing a rasping chuckle from the depths of his chest.
“You’re such a filthy, depraved little slut, baby,” Bucky murmured teasingly in your ear before nipping the shell with his teeth, dragging a ragged cry from your lips. “Ya like it when daddy chokes you, huh? Bet John fucking Walker doesn’t choke you like this, does he?”
“No,” you gasped, your voice hoarse but genuine as you admitted, “He’d never choke me—he’d never treat me like a slut.”
“That’s fucking right,” Bucky growled, somehow managing to fuck you even harder, his hips snapping into your ass so hard, you could hear the sharp clapping of his skin against yours even over his heavy breaths panting in your ear.
“I’m the only man who can fuck you like you need it—dirty and rough. That’s how you like it, isn’t it, baby—you like being fucked like a slut?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, as much in response to Bucky’s debauched question as to the feeling of his cock pounding into your cunt. You were so close—so close you could barely think, but you knew everything Bucky was saying was right. He was the only man who fucked you the way you needed it, and you needed to cum on his cock.
Thankfully, Bucky seemed to want the same thing.
“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, his hips slamming his cock into your body hard enough to nearly hurt, but the pain-edged pleasure only pushed you closer to your release. “Cum on daddy’s cock while he’s choking your pretty little neck and fucking you like the filthy slut you are.”
Bucky’s words and his cock, and your fingers on your clit, sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and a ragged scream tearing free from your lips. Pleasure consumed you, body and mind alike, until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else.
It went on for one long, endless moment, pleasure pulsing through your being until it finally abated. Then, the world began to reform around you. Slowly, you returned to yourself, Bucky’s cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.
“Fuck, you feel good, baby,” he was rumbling, rutting into you while your pussy squeezed him in a perfect clenching rhythm. “Feels like your cunt’s begging for my cum. Is that it? Ya want my cum that fucking bad, baby?”
“Yesss,” you moaned, your limbs melting beneath him as you savored the feeling of Bucky chasing his release in your body. “Want your cum, daddy, please gimme it,” you whimpered, weakly pushing your hips into his big body in a wordless plea.
Bucky grunted a soft, “Fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock to the hilt in your still pulsing cunt as he came. He let out a long groan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.
It felt so good, your lips curled at the edges in a happy smile. Every part of you felt warm and satisfied, and you basked in the unmatched afterglow that came in the wake of getting fucked by Bucky Barnes.
When he was finally spent, Bucky eased his hips back, pulling out of you gently so he didn’t hurt your thoroughly used pussy. You appreciated the effort, even if you did feel a pang in your gut at the loss of him, like your body was mourning his absence.
Bucky rolled off you and flopped onto his back, leaving you limp and sated.
And cold.
The man who’d just fucked you better than anyone else ever had made no move to pull your naked body into his, but that wasn’t surprising. Bucky wasn’t the type to initiate post-sex snuggling, though he didn’t stop you from cuddling into him if you initiated it.
Gathering your strength, you heaved your body toward Bucky, draping yourself on top of him, wrapping an arm over his stomach and hitching your thigh over his hip. Your cooling skin pressed to his heated body as you tucked your face into his neck, cooing happily when his arm curled around your shoulders, holding you against his side.
But a post-sex snuggle wasn’t the only thing you’d been looking for.
Your mouth found the side of Bucky’s neck, your lips working against his skin, kissing and sucking and biting him while he rumbled soft sounds of satisfied pleasure. You didn’t stop until you’d left a hickey, but when you pulled away to get a look at it, you decided it wasn’t enough.
After all, you were literally covered in his marks.
So you went back to work, sucking on the hickey until the bruise was so big, there’d be no hiding it—not unless Bucky suddenly started wearing turtlenecks. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t. You knew he’d wear your hickey proudly, even if it meant he might not get laid until it faded.
When you were finally satisfied with your work, you brushed one last kiss to the hickey, and settled down at Bucky’s side. Your cheek pressed to his chest and you listened to his heart thumping a steady drumbeat beneath his pecs.
For a moment, you were both quiet, enjoying the feel of each other. Then Bucky fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, which he’d kicked off at some point. He held the device aloft over the two of you, tilting his head to the side and using the front-facing camera to look at the mark you’d left.
“I guess I deserve this,” he commented, trailing his fingers over the gigantic hickey. There was no anger or annoyance in his tone, though, only amusement. He skimmed his fingers down to your shoulder and gently rearranged your arm until the marks he’d left on the sides of your tits were visible. “Now we’re even.”
A snickering smile curved your mouth and you were about to retort that you weren’t anywhere close to even, but the soft click of Bucky’s phone snapping a photo cut you off.
Reaching up, you tapped the screen to show the picture and you had to admit, it was pretty cute. The hickey on Bucky’s neck was prominent and he wore a cocky grin on his attractive face while you smirked into his chest, his marks dotting your skin even though you weren’t revealing too much of your breasts.
It was the kind of photo you’d consider setting as your phone’s background if Bucky was your boyfriend.
He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still want it.
“Send that to me,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.
But Bucky must’ve heard how much you wanted the picture, because he chuckled evilly, pulling the phone out of your reach. When you lifted your head to glare at him, there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.
“If I send this to you, you gotta promise not to let John mark you up again.”
That time, you let him see you roll your eyes while you reminded him, “Only boyfriends get to make demands like that, Bucky.”
Huffing a frustrated sigh and giving you a half-hearted glare, Bucky tapped the screen of his phone a couple times. A second later, your phone buzzed with a text and when you glanced at it, you saw he’d sent you the photo of the two of you.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I just don’t ever wanna see his fucking marks on your body again.”
You nodded your agreement, saying, “That’s fair.” It was the least you could do, all things considered.
Bucky laughed to himself at your easy agreement, then pushed you onto your back and spread your thighs while he sat up on his knees between your legs. “Now, smile pretty for daddy, baby. I wanna take some photos of all the hard work I did marking you up.”
A pleased grin pulled across your face. As much as you enjoyed taking pictures and sending them to Bucky, you loved it even more when he wanted to take pictures of you himself. So you laid on the bed and let Bucky position you how he wanted so he could take photos of his handiwork.
“You gonna jerk off to these when you get home, daddy?” you taunted, staring up at Bucky and smiling for his camera. “Gonna rub your cock to pictures of your marks all over me?”
Bucky’s eyes flashed and his cock twitched between his thick thighs, making your smirk widen. You knew you were provoking him again, but you couldn’t seem to stop.
“You gonna make yourself cum looking at photos of me covered in your marks, daddy?”
Your teasing comments led to you laying helplessly beneath Bucky, his knees keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn’t grind against anything while he jerked himself off with his fist. The only thing he allowed you to do was knead and grope your tits, your pleasure mixing with aching pain from the bruises covering your skin.
Bucky came like that, his cum covering your fingers and chest in ropes of his seed, marking you all over again.
He took even more photos of the sight of your hands playing with your cum-covered tits, then fucked your pussy with his fingers, sounding very pleased with himself when he teased you for getting off on him making a mess of your slutty body and pushing his cum deeper inside you.
It was late when Bucky finally left your apartment, and you realized you’d been right. It had been a very long night. But even though you knew you’d only get a couple hours of sleep before work, it had been so worth it to text Bucky that photo of your tits covered in another man’s marks.
Over the next few days, Bucky demanded an endless stream of photos of the bruises he’d left on your tits and ass. He was busy at the office and the two of you couldn’t find time to see each other, but he didn’t want to miss any of the progression of the marks he’d left as the hickeys deepened into a dark plum color on your skin.
It turned you on to send so many photos, to see the constant reminder of the marks he’d left on your body, so you indulged Bucky every time he asked for more photos. It helped that he responded with a mixture of sweet degradation and filthy praise that had your heart beating harder in your chest and wetness gathering between your thighs.
Every night for a week, you got yourself off to the dirty things Bucky texted you, the promises of what he was going to do to your body the next time he saw you. But more than anything else, you kept going back to the possessive text message he’d sent the day after he’d been to your apartment, rubbing your clit to Bucky’s words.
Don’t you dare show John fucking Walker your tits with my marks on them, baby. Those marks on your body are all fucking mine, and they’re only for you and me.
you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#toxic bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan characters#witchywithwhiskeywork#you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series
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Ok so the recent post that you made on my filthy thot Logan how about you take the led of dominance one night instead of Logan and he absolutely loves it
a/n: nonnie, this is sooooo hot. I kinda had to adjust it a bit tho <3 hope you don’t mind! thank you for sending this!!! 🩷 mwah
you got my attention ꕤ (l.h)
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
summary: Though Logan lets you take control and show your appreciation, in the end, you're still the one begging for him.
genre: smut (with some fluff in the end tbh) (18+ mdni)
word count: 5,8k
warnings/tags: established relationship, same universe as this fic, porn with barely no plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, lap dance, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, sub!reader, use of handcuffs, slight choking, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight orgasm denial / edging but it’s short ngl, overstimulation, face sitting, doggy, rough sex, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk. some daddy kink? breeding kink fuck sorry. I wrote this while I’m on my period lol. lots of pet names. this is high key filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. after care. this is not beta read sorry!
this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3
AO3 • masterlist
You're sitting on the bed you share with Logan, waiting for him to enter the bedroom where you're dressed in soft, pastel lilac lace lingerie. You've been intimate with Logan many times before, so you know what to expect, but this time feels a little different. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling a bit anxious. Logan usually takes control in the bedroom, but tonight, you've been wondering what it would be like if you were the one to take the lead.
If there's one thing you love doing, it's teasing Logan. You thrive on the thrill of acting out just to get a reaction from him, and you enjoy being a brat more than anything. You love being submissive, and there's nothing you'd rather be.
But the thought of making him feel like you're in control, even if only for a few minutes, gets you all hot and bothered. You know Logan might take back control quickly, but just having that moment of power excites you.
You’ve always thought that stripping for Logan or putting on a show would be something fun to try one night. The idea of showing him how much you appreciate him by dancing to sensual music while he sits back on a chair or the couch, watching your body move, excites you. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot and turned on.
Logan’s entrance pulls you out of your thoughts as the door swings open. His eyes lock on you immediately, taking in the sight of the delicate lingerie clinging to your skin. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says with a playful smile, clearly appreciating the little fabric you're wearing.
The lingerie you’re wearing is a lilac set with turquoise and lilac flowers embroidered onto the lace. The cups of your balconette bra are pretty transparent unless it’s for the floral details at the top to the middle of the cups, barely covering your nipples. You can see his eyes travel from your chest to your waist as he takes in the elastic band, covered with the same lace pattern, of the suspenders. His eyes linger a bit too long as he takes in the small thing that barely hides the curves of your ass. A matching thong, the elastic band sitting just below your suspenders. Logan’s eyes wander from your covered core to your shoulders as he notices the lilac see through robe with lacy details hanging off your shoulders loosely.
“Hi,” you manage to respond, your voice soft and trembling. Your cheeks heating up as his intense gaze travels up and down your body, sending a wave of warmth through you. For a brief second, you feel the familiar pull to submit, to let him take control like always. But then you remind yourself to stick to your original intentions.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Sticking to your original plan, you clear your throat and muster the courage to speak, despite the stutter. “C-could you, uh, sit in the chair?” You ask, nervously. Logan raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request.
An amused smile then tugs at the corners of his lips as he nods briefly, surprised but clearly understanding what you're trying to do. “Are you asking or telling?” Logan teases, his voice smooth, challenging, and dripping with amusement.
The playful tone sends a shiver through you, momentarily shaking your confidence. You know he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll follow through. Swallowing the nervousness building inside you, you take a slow, deep breath, determined to stick to your plan, no matter how intimidating his presence feels right now.
His response makes your heart pound in your chest. Mustering up every ounce of confidence you can find, you lock eyes with him and say, “I said go sit in the chair.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, definitely out of character for you, but there's a spark of amusement in Logan's eyes that encourages you to keep going.
You can tell he’s entertained by this rare side of you, and though it feels strange, the thrill of his reaction pushes you to stick with it. His eyebrow raises slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and for a moment, you feel a rush of control that excites you even more.
Logan never takes his eyes off you as he makes his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Settling into it, he leans back, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze remains sharp and unwavering. You watch as takes off his shirt and pulls down his jeans, exposing his hard cock pressing against his boxers. The look he gives you, despite your attempt to take control, makes it clear he still holds the power. His mischievous eyes silently tell you he could end your little fantasy whenever he chooses, effortlessly reminding you of who’s really in charge, even as he watches you with quiet anticipation.
Logan watches you walk towards the closet, opening it before you kneel down on the soft carpet in front of it as your hand tries to reach for something inside the closet. His eyes travel to your ass, observing your curves, how plump your ass looks. The way your cheeks squeeze the barely there material between them.
You can practically feel his eyes burning into you—more specifically, your ass—because you know exactly where he's staring. The heat of his gaze makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. After rummaging for a moment, you finally find what you’re looking for and stand up slowly, making sure to give Logan a lingering view of your curves. The sound of his low groan reaches your ears, sending a thrill through you. You close the closet doors and turn around, carefully hiding the vivid pink, silky handcuffs you picked up along with the lingerie just days ago.
Keeping the handcuffs tucked behind your back, you walk slowly toward him, not quite ready to reveal your little secret yet. As you reach him, you lean down to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. It ends far too quickly for his liking, and a deep grunt escapes his throat as you pull away, leaving him wanting more. Your hand trails lightly from one of his shoulders, across his chest, to the other, the soft touch of your fingers making his skin feel like it's on fire. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body almost trembling from the contact, as you circle behind him. You know he could moan from just the simple touch, and the thought of having him on edge excites you even more.
You take the handcuffs, the sound of the metal clinking behind him making Logan’s ears perk up. You hook one around his wrist, half-expecting him to protest, but when he remains silent, you continue and secure the other cuff in place. You lift your head to his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss at his pulse point, making him moan as you finish up behind him. Walking back to face him, you notice a playful smile spread across his face, a look that makes your heart race.
“What?” you ask, mirroring his amused expression, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you realise he’s not taking you seriously at all.
“Nothing, princess,” Logan shrugs, his grin widening.
You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. “Sure.” Normally, on any other day, Logan would have you pinned beneath him or bent over his knee, spanking you until your skin is flushed and raw. But tonight, he finds it endearing to watch you take charge. So, instead of resisting, he decides to lean into it. In fact, he’s more than willing to let you explore this new dynamic and see just how far you’ll take it.
Then, you lean down and plant a soft kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a deep groan from him. “Now sit back and watch. Let me take care of you,” you whisper seductively in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. With that, you glide toward the desk, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you search for the perfect song to dance to.
A smile spreads across your face as you finally settle on a track that feels just right. Pressing play, the smooth beats of "Sway" by Majid Jordan fill the room, setting the mood with its sultry rhythm. As the music envelops you, you can sense Logan’s eyes on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and desire. The moment feels electric, and you know it’s time to give him a show he won’t forget.
You stride toward the bed, positioning yourself right in the center of the room, directly in front of him. As the singer begins to croon the lyrics, you let the robe slide down your shoulders, pausing just at your elbows, deliberately teasing him with each movement. Swaying your hips slowly to the beat of the song, you lick your lips, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.
With each deliberate motion, your hands glide slowly up and down your chest, accentuating your curves as you keep your eyes locked on his. You circle your hips, letting the rhythm guide you, fully aware of the effect it has on him. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the desire radiating from him, fueling your confidence as you embrace the moment.
Temptation, conversation, I hear what you sayin'~♪
You lose yourself to the song as you move your body closer to his, still keeping a good distance between you two.
“Baby girl, you’re so hot…” Logan groans as his eyes admire your body, his eyes flicking back and forth from one place to the other like he doesn’t know where to look.
Playing safe but we're losing our patience~♪
With each sway (literally, like the title of the song) of your hips, you move to the rhythm of the song, feeling the music pulse through you as you notice his gaze tracing the curves of your body, lingering over every dip and contour.
The combination of his awestruck expression and your confident movements sends a thrill through you, urging you to keep going. You enjoy the way he watches, almost hypnotised, as you revel in the moment, fully aware that you’re in control.
Doin' things that my body is cravin'~♪
Your fingers wander from your hips to your backside and you squeeze your cheeks softly as you give Logan a show. The moment he sees you touching yourself like this, a low moan escapes his lips, and you can’t help but bite your own in response, revelling in the effect you have on him.
The pleasure of his gaze fuels your confidence, making you feel even more desirable. You relish the way he watches, captivated and hungry for more, as you continue to tease him, lost in the thrill of the moment.
So amazing the way that she moves~♪ She's my favorite dancer~♪
Seductively, you slowly turn around, then you sink yourself to the floor. Once on your knees, you crawl steadily towards him. As you’re slowly making your way to him, you’re never breaking eye contact as you smile up at him.
As you draw closer, you rise up onto your knees, your hands gliding along his ankles and tracing up to his thighs. You gently spread his legs wider, making room for yourself between them. Logan's breath hitches in his throat at your boldness, and you can’t help but smile coyly as you bite your bottom lip, savouring his reaction.
Your hands continue their journey, moving from his thighs to his hips and then to his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him. Slowly but sensually, you rise in front of him, each movement deliberate, exuding confidence and allure as you prepare to captivate him even further.
“You’re breathtaking…” he moans your name while your lips move to ghost over his lips. You feel and see his squirm against the hold of the handcuffs.
You smirk as you hover your hips over his lap. Using the music to your advantage, you move your body to the rhythm of the song, making sure to emphasise on your movements. Your arms around his neck as you slowly lower your lower body on his lap, sitting down, your heat against his clothed cock straining against his underwear. Pressing your needy and throbbing clit against his dick. His eyes are gazing into yours, all you can see is lust and desire. You grind against his crotch making Logan groan at your movements. Finally you lean down your lips against his, swallowing his moans in your mouth.
“You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers breathily against your lips as you continue your little performance, swaying and grinding your hips against his. You hum with a smile before you capture his lips again.
His mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate. He parts his lips slightly to catch his breath. Your tongue sweeps across Logan’s lips making him gasp, tongue wrapping itself against his a moment later, hot and wet and steady as you taste his mouth and kiss him deeply.
Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands wander all over his body. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet the more you grind against him. You whimper at the feel of him bucking his hips against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. The thong you’re wearing surely ruined by now, clinging against your wet folds.
Soon the music would fade into the background as all you can focus on is him. Logan’s leaning his head forward as much as he can, wanting so badly to grab handfuls of your ass while slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans into your mouth, biting and sucking on your bottom lip.
You begin to rock your hips against his, dragging your core over his crotch, the friction sending pleasurable sensations coursing through you. However, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, leaving you unsure about how to proceed. Despite this uncertainty, you continue the movement, instinctively seeking relief for the ache building in your core.
Logan notices the hesitation in your movements, his perceptive gaze catching the flicker of insecurity in your eyes. He starts to thrust his hips against yours, urging you on. “Good girl, you can do it,” he says in his low, deep voice, the words igniting a whimper from your lips as you pick up the pace, guiding your hips a bit faster in response.
“Need you, kitten. Please, I need to feel you. Take these panties off,” he pleads, his tone dripping with desire. You shake your head, refusing to comply, which only draws a chuckle from him as he watches you squirm on top of him.
“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll choose when I want to take them off,” you retort, feeling a thrill of defiance as his eyes wander from your face to your soaked panties. The big wet spot at the front betrays just how much you want his cock filling you up, pushing deep inside and making a mess.
“Just you wait until I’m out of these,” Logan replies, maintaining that boyish smile that makes your heart race. You hardly care about his playful threat; instead, you steady yourself on his shoulders and keep grinding your clit against his clothed cock. He’s right about the panties, but you’re not about to let him dictate the moment. Reaching down, you push the fabric aside, letting your pussy lips glide against him, the contact sending shivers through your body.
“Oh, kitten,” he moans, captivated by the sight of your arousal dripping down onto his underwear. “Look at you.” His low, sultry voice sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation of his throbbing cock against your wetness nearly overwhelming.
“Feels so fucking good,” you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure wash over you.
As the pressure builds toward your orgasm, you suddenly stand up, discarding the delicate lingerie that clings to you. As you’re undressing yourself in front of him he can’t help but growl. You glance at him cautiously, as he stares at you hungrily. You’re longing for him to taste you but feeling a hint of embarrassment about taking the initiative. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “Go ahead baby girl, let me taste you.” His encouragement sparks a rush of confidence within you, urging you to take control and fully embrace the moment.
His choice of words only heightens your arousal, making it feel as if he’s the one compelling you to act. Logan's cock is oozing with precum, and you can feel the dampness spreading on his underwear as you hook a leg over his shoulder, bringing yourself closer to him.
You stretch a bit uncomfortably in this position, but any discomfort fades away the moment he leans forward and licks from your entrance to the top of your clit.
A loud moan escapes you as his warm, wet tongue finally makes contact with your pussy. You sigh into the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself as you urge him deeper. His tongue glides up your folds, skillfully exploring your puffy lips, occasionally pausing to plant soft kisses on your clit. He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth.
Logan groans against you, sending delicious vibrations coursing through your body as you tug on his hair, lost in the pleasure. You find yourself grinding your hips forward, desperately seeking more contact as your arousal drips down into his beard.
“That’s it, good girl, use my fuckin’ mouth,” he moans against you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between sucking it in and releasing it, the repetitive motion making your head spin. “Taste so good.”
“Fuck, Lo—” you whine as you grind yourself against his lips.
Each flick and tug sends you spiralling, and you begin to whine, yearning for his large fingers to fill your tight little hole. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you slip deeper into that precious sub headspace, becoming acutely aware of his restrained hands. Logan picks up on your shift in mood immediately.
“Please, Lo,” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice. You need him so badly it borders on painful.
“Please, what?” he retorts, then dives his tongue into your clenching hole, making you gasp. He groans, fucking your little pussy with his tongue, his nose brushing tantalizingly over your clit. “This is what you wanted, ain’t that right?”
“F-fuck, ah, I’m gonna c-cum,” you gasp, urgency spilling from your lips instead of a question. The relentless contact of his nose against your sensitive clit pushes you to the edge, and your pussy contracts around his tongue, releasing a wave of pleasure. You scream his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair with a mix of urgency and desperation, your ears ringing as the world around you fades into bliss, unaware of the metal cuffs breaking free.
You can feel his hands on your skin, the heat of your orgasm squirting out of you, painting his mouth beautifully as he continues to feast on your cunt. You breathe heavily as Logan moans loudly at the sweet taste of you, feeling both blissed out and utterly exposed.
You’re still coming down from your high when suddenly, you yelp in surprise as he lifts you with ease, your trembling legs instinctively wrapping around his body. In one fluid motion, Logan throws you onto the bed, and a whine escapes your lips as you feel the familiar neediness surge within you, your pussy so slick and wanting for more.
He pulls his boxers down, letting his erection finally spring free. Logan’s thick and big cock is so hard, dripping with precum and you almost whimper at the sight of it. He then makes his way up to the bed. Situating himself between your legs he smiles deviously.
Oh—
“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten. I’ll show you who’s in control.”
Your cheeks flare up furiously at his request, you feel your body trembling with excitement as you flip on your stomach, getting on your hands and knees, your face down on the mattress as you raise your ass in the air for him. Logan groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.
You bite your bottom lip and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside.
“Such a pretty pussy, baby. All dripping wet for me,” he whispers to you and you feel his fingers sliding up and down your slit and then opening your folds for him to see.
You wanted to tell him how he’s the only one that can do this to you, how much you love him, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, parting them as he quickly leans down and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise making you almost fall on the bed, your arms almost giving out on you.
You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as he keeps licking up and down and sucking on your clit. When you whine, his tongue swirls around your entrance.
“F-fuck, s-so sensitive. Da-daddy please, oh—”
But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whimper desperately at the loss of the feeling of his tongue, only to have him kiss your lower back and up your spine, hands sliding up and down your body.
“Please,” you whine pathetically.
You can't see it, but he's smiling down at you, shaking his head as he revels in his victory over the battle for control. “What happened, baby? Suddenly you need my help?”
You shake your head yes rapidly, not caring how desperate you look. “Please, please, I’ll be good for you, please. I’ll be your good girl.”
“I thought you wanted to be in control,” he pokes fun at you, his hips not touching as he places soft kisses down your back. You wish he was fucking into you already. You start to whine when you feel his thumb press into your clit. He doesn’t move it at all, just applies slight pressure and lets it rest there. “But you need your daddy, don’t you? You need me so badly. Pathetic little kitty.”
“I-I do,” you gasp, frustrated by his unmoving thumb. Your body is trembling in anticipation. “Please daddy.”
A moment later you feel him grind his thick cock against your dripping heat, you’re aching for him to fill you up. A loud moan fills the room along with your whines, with a strong grip on your hips a second later he eases the tip inside, making you gasp as your whole body trembles.
“Please…” You whine desperately as you feel him halt his movements, a small portion of the tip only inside you. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.
“Patience baby girl,”
You whimper as he finally slides more and more of his thickness inside of you. You squeeze your eyes tightly as he fills you up. The pressure of his cock deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.
“Take it, princess. Take daddy’s cock.”
Then his massive cock is completely splitting you open. Logan thrusts his whole length into you, black dots cover your vision at the feeling of it. Your pussy pulses around him as you struggle to adjust to his size.
“Ah, fuck!” Tears are already dripping down your face onto the mattress. His cock is so big, long and hard and he makes your pussy and tummy feel so full of him.
You whimper at the new angle, struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. It feels as though your pussy can never fully adjust to his size. As your walls squeeze around him, trying to adapt, Logan uses more force to push deeper, stretching you further. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, as it feels like you’re being torn open, split in half by his thickness.
“Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes and starts moving, fucking you at an impossible pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him fills the room along with both of your frantic moans. His heavy balls are hitting against your clit with every thrust. The feeling is heaven on earth.
All you can answer with are moans as they slip off your lips. Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell Logan, breathlessly, about how good he makes you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Logan picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.
You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, you whine as you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his thick cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, the tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.
“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood daddy, p-please more…”
“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once, making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder with each movement, blending with the slick sounds of your pussy meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with the little noises of pleasure escaping your mouth.
“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Logan asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”
“Yes, daddy. Fuck, please… Can I please cum?” you ask this time, completely out of breath.
“No, you little brat,” Logan growls, picking up the pace even more. He grabs you by your hair, jerks your head up and pulls you back towards him. “Patience.”
The delicious thrusts of his cock don’t falter as he presses your back into his chest. He wraps a strong hand around your throat, and the other arm holds you steady by the waist.
“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper repeatedly, your body trembling with need.
“Oh, I know you can,” he says aggressively. “I know you fuckin’ can. And you will.”
He grinds his hips in circles, and you nearly scream from the overwhelming sensation. You desperately try to hold back the orgasm that's building rapidly, clenching your pussy tightly around his thick cock. He lets out deep moans at the feeling of you, fully aware that he’s close to cumming but wanting to savour your pussy for just a little longer. Logan slows his pace slightly, giving both of you a brief moment to catch your breath before he picks up the rhythm again, quick and rough.
“Look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.” Logan cursed when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up, kitten, make it all nice and full,” he promises.
The head of his cock rubs against your walls deliciously, snapping you out of your small daze as you nod frantically. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up daddy!” You’re whimpering with every thrust of his cock.
“Tell me who’s in control and I’ll let you cum,” he says slowly into your ear, grip around your throat tightening a bit and making the feeling that more intense.
“You, Lo,” you manage to get out, “Always you.”
“Cum on my cock then,” Logan gives you permission. Another few thrusts is all it takes to send you over the edge, shouting out his name as your ears ring from the pressure. You’re on cloud nine as you let your body relax and feel the brutal pounding of his cock. It drags inside of you so perfectly, hitting every sweet spot you have. Your needy cunt is clenching, throbbing, and milking his cock while you cum all over him. Logan groans in your ear as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him for his orgasm, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised. “This pussy was made for me. So fuckin’ tight wrapped around me.”
Your cum drips down both of your legs, coating his cock and balls, quickly forming a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, Logan talks you through it, whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He gasps as you pulse around him, desperate for him to spill his load inside you, needing to witness him fall apart.
“Ah, shit—” he rasps, thrusting deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your cervix with delicious force. “Are you going to take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re a messy little thing, hm?”
You shiver at his words, your mouth dropping open in awe as you close your eyes, completely lost in the sensation, nodding eagerly. “Please, please.”
Moments later, you feel him unravel against you, and soon his cum starts to shoot deep inside you.
“Fuck, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good baby girl.”
As his thrusts come to a complete stop, he pulls out of you, and you let your body fall limp against the mattress, feeling utterly drained. Soon Logan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly spinning you around to pull you against his chest. He kisses you softly, and you moan at the taste of yourself still on his lips. As he pulls away, he gazes down at you with soft eyes and a charming smile, the warmth of the moment enveloping you both.
“Sorry for ruining your little plan,” Logan teases gently, a playful glint in his eyes.
“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, smiling up at him. “I figured I’d give it a try… but I feel like I’m not that great at it.”
He shakes his head, leaning closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweet girl. That was so fuckin' hot. In fact, I might want you to try it again.”
“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes brightening at his praise.
He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Maybe next time, I can teach you a thing or two about taking control.”
“Really?” You smile happily, your fingers running through his messy dark hair.
“Mhm,” he hums, his heart swelling at your excitement.
Biting your lip bashfully, you shrug, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I much prefer having you in control, though.”
“That so?” Logan smirks mischievously, his hands beginning to wander all over your body, reigniting the familiar heat between you.
“Yes, you’re so hot when you’re dominant,” you giggle, leaning up to cover Logan’s face with playful kisses.
“Oh, just when I’m dominant?” he teases, smirking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.
“Logan, you know what I mean!” you pout, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face. “You’re always hot!”
Logan chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through you as he gently cups your cheeks with both hands, trying to capture your lips. Once he does, he presses a series of quick, light pecks against your mouth, grinning widely. You giggle against him, the sound filling the space between you both as he keeps chasing your lips, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.
“I love you so much, baby. You mean everything to me,” Logan murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of emotion. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer as his warmth surrounds you.
With a gentle roll, Logan shifts your bodies, laying you down so your back sinks into the softness of the blankets and pillows. His lips never leave yours as you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, his hands still cradling your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across the skin under your eyes.
“You’re everything to me too, Lo,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of affection, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love you.”
You’re both basking in each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy between you settling into something warm and peaceful. The earlier rush of passion has given way to a serene calmness, where even the soft rhythm of your breaths seems to sync together. Logan’s fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, and you feel completely at ease, wrapped in his embrace.
Then, just as you’re lulled into this tranquil moment, you notice a familiar gleam of mischief in Logan’s eyes. His hands slowly slide down to your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin in a way that sends a subtle thrill through you. He caresses you slowly, and the soft strokes make your body stir.
With a playful grin, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Another round?” His voice is teasing but full of intent, a promise of what’s to come. You feel the shift in his energy, playful yet laced with the kind of desire that tells you he’s far from finished with you tonight.
“Logan!” you giggle, giving him a playful push, but he only grins wider. In a swift motion, he pulls you close again, silencing your laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. Your playful giggles soon turn into soft, breathy moans as his hands roam your body, and yours do the same, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles.
The night unfolds in a tangle of kisses and wandering hands, the air between you charged with love and desire. Every touch, every kiss, is a reminder of the bond you share, and the passion between you feels endless. The world fades away, and all that remains is Logan. His touch, his gaze, and the warmth of his presence pull you in, leaving you completely lost in him.
thank you for reading <3 mwah
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine x you#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool & wolverine#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman fanfic#hugh jackman fanfiction#hugh jackman#my writing#this was so delicious to write ugggh
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I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.
The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.
Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.
Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.
Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive things would look WILDLY different. Crafting a new story there would be borderline impossible because the dozen different possible world states make the foundation shaky at best.
It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"
Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.
And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell, and leaving what they aren’t going to use presently ambiguous.
#dragon age#dragon age the veilguard#I get the disappointment but I think some people need to take a deep breath and calm down#it's gonna be okay
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Casually calling them "daddy" LADS
Word count; 1,913
Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship
Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff
Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!
You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…
Xavier
It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that.
But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you.
Anyway, today was just a normal day as any.
You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him.
You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly.
“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?”
You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you.
“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”
“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.
“No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.”
You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.”
“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips.
Gosh, he was so cute.
“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?”
“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.”
Zayne
You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician.
The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago.
Now, though, you really want to fluster the man.
He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him.
So, what did you decide to do?
You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.
That should definitely go over well.
Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed.
“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right.
“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all.
"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes.
“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”
“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.”
Rafayel
It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…
Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay.
It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”.
He was also so easy to fluster.
You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect.
You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting.
Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image.
As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback.
“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here.
“Huh?”
It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up and makes his way toward you.
“Again.”
Now, it's your turn to be confused.
“Raf, what–”
“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes.
“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red.
“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy.
“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back.
“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”
Sylus
It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet.
It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life.
This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.
But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day.
...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days.
You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle.
And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic.
So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner.
“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...”
“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better.
“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind.
Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right?
“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.”
Okay, you got this.
You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?”
The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle.
“Sure, kitten.”
Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle.
“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove.
“Da–”
“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.”
I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!
I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!
I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)
Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.
I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷
#lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads x reader#lads sylus#lads xavier#lads zayne#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace zayne#lnds xavier#lnds x reader#lnds zayne#lnds#lnds sylus#lnds rafayel#lads rafayel#sylus x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#lads xavier x reader#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel x reader#zayne love and deepspace#lads sylus x reader#lads drabble#lnds drabble#love and deepspace drabble
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Moments in Time - Luke Hughes Edition
Word Count - 3000
Summary - The eight times Luke Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.
Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here
Author's Note - Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.
Quinn Hughes Edition. Jack Hughes Edition.
I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas.
Main Masterlist
Luke couldn't care less about wanting a ring camera. Both of his brothers had them and he really didn’t care. Now since he moved out of Jack’s apartment and into yours it’s a different story. He no longer has a nice fancy lobby with a mailroom. When a package comes it comes to his doorstep. This year Luke has been stepping up his fashion game (his words not yours) and buying some new items for his closet. Now to Luke, a $300 shirt might not seem like a lot but to a normal human being it was.
Luke wasn’t concerned about packages being taken form your doorstep until you told him about your neighbor. When you first moved into your apartment a few years ago, your neighbor warned you about how some of his packages had been stolen and to be care. Literally nothing has happened in the three years you’ve had your apartment but you still did mention it to Luke. Once Luke heard about how packages were taken (even though none of them were yours) he was texting his brothers asking for a link to the one they had. Now you, on the other hand, wanted a ring camera because Quinn and Jack’s girlfriends were telling you how much fun it is to mess with the boys on the ring camera. So you decided you kind of wanted to join the fun and get one.The ring camera was totally worth it to both of you within six months with just all the ‘little mundane moments’ it caught on camera.
Don’t forget the brownie bark!
Luke knew you were leaving to go to the store and instead of sending you a simple text, his lazy ass decided to yell at you through the ring. It scared the shit out of all of a sudden you heard Luke’s voice but knew he was on his way to the gym.
“BABY! DON’T forget my brownie bark at the store! Please!”
Once you registered that it was in fact Luke’s voice and it was coming from the ring camera you turned your body towards the camera.
“What do you mean?? You still have all of that moose tracks dairy free ice cream I brought you because “I can’t do dairy during the season’ plus all those pretzels and everything else???” A small sigh leaving your lips before Luke can even reply because you already know what he’s going to say.
“Yeah but I’m not in the mood for those things anymore… maybe next week but this week I want the brownie bark you get from Costco.” he softly whined as he contonied to beg for his snack.
“Fine! But listen Hughes you have to finish this snack before I buy anything else because your literally taking up some much cabinet space and we have a small kitchen.”
“Deal.” he immediately and excitingly says before he rushes a goodbye and leaves the ring app. A soft sigh leaves your mouth as you head down the hallway to the elevator to go to the store
2.I hate you right now
Okay you didn’t really hate Luke you were just upset that he happened to have ordered a new gaming chair which came in the most awkward huge sized box. He told you he ordered it three weeks ago and it should be here before he has to go on his seven day west coast roadie. Of course it wasn’t, you dropped him off an hour ago and decided to get some errands done before returning home. Of course, it was just your luck that when you got home there would be a gigantic probably 100 lb perfectly cubed box that was definitely Luke’s new gaming chair. Deciding to go inside and set your things down and send Luke a text before dealing with the box.
Lukeyboo:
Guess what was here when i got home 🙄🙄
My love:
Is it my chair?? 👀
Lukeyboo:
Yes
And its a fucking huge box by the way I don’t know how I’m gonna lift it.
Gonna go try to attempt now
By the time you made it back to the hallway of your apartment building Luke greeted you on the ring camera. “Hi baby, I’m here for emotional support.” he says teasingly and even though you can’t see him you know he has a huge smile on his face. Making it a point to make an annoyed face at the camera, making sure he knows how the universe seemed to time this perfectly for you. Looking down you decide that it’s probably easiest to shuffle the box inside your apartment. Trying to move the box an inch but it doesn’t budge.
“Baby try using your legs not your arms.” Luke comments
“Oh wow. Why didn’t I think of that?” you say in a duh tone.
“Sorry I’ll stop mansplaining.” Immediately apologizing for trying to tell you how to move the box. Finally your able to move it a little and Luke cheers as a result. But then of course you continue to struggle for the next ten minutes.
“You know I really hate you right now.” you say loud enough for the ring to pick it up.
“I love and appreciate you too.” he responds without a second thought knowing you're just annoyed because of how oddly shaped the box is and Luke would have already had it in spare bedroom by now. “If it makes you feel better I think your hot when you're flustered” he admits.
“Hmmm” is the only response your willing to give him. Finally after what feels like forever but is probably only 3 minutes you get it in the door. Luke cheers through the camera. “Oh and I hope you know it’s staying right but the front door for you when you get home.”
Luke lets out a chuckle as he admits “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Love you, miss you already baby.”
“Ugh I love you too, text me when you land.”
“Always” and he stays on the app until he hears you close the apartment door.
3. Why are you acting like this as adults?
One thing that you loved about Luke was how truly close he was with his brothers. It really did make you happy that he was able to live his dream of playing on the same team as his older brother Jack. But being brothers even if both were in their early twenties they still acted like brothers. They were both stubborn as could be and competitive with each other. At times it can be cute, but even Nico told on one roadie they had to ban the brothers from playing soccer before their game because their fighting became too much.
So it was no shocker when you were in the kitchen in the middle of cooking dinner in your apartment, and heard both the boys yelling as they were coming down the hallway. It’s one thing to hear Jack because he is naturally a louder person, but when you heard Luke also raising his voice and some thudding of the walls you decided to check the ring camera. Honestly, you weren’t sure to be surprised by their behavior of straight up wrestling in your tiny little narrow hallway apartment or a little disappointed in yourself that you were surprised by their behavior.
Since the hallway was so narrow, you really didn't want one of them to accidentally get injured, even if it was minor due to them being idiots. Especially since it wouldn’t be hard to knock your head on the wall and accidentally get a concussion and then they would be out for at least a game. So you decided to yell at them through the camera to make them stop. “Boys I know that isn’t the Hughes brothers being idiots wrestling like some children?!”
Immediately the noises stop and you smile to yourself. Knowing your boyfriend you knew that he was probably embarrassed but your suspensions were confirmed when you heard him say “sorry baby” before Jack muttered out his own apologies.
But then within a few seconds you heard another thud and you sighed as you clicked the speak button on your phone. “That better not be you all again, now knock it off or I swear I will treat you like my nephews and take video games away for the night.” Honestly, you didn’t count it but you're pretty sure within a minute the boys were inside, and in the kitchen kissing up to you knowing damn well you would take the video games away.
4. Take Out
Luke was on one of those rare long roadies that was closer to a week and two time zones away rather than a quick 72 hours down the east coast. All roadies were hard, but somehow the ones that were in different time zones and longer than an extended weekend felt more real. It was almost like if he was gone for the 2 days it didn’t matter, but when it was hitting the fourth day of his roadie missing Luke turned into what felt like longing for him. Craving anything that would help you feel closer to Luke, on your way home that night you picked up pizza from his favorite place. Lately you’ve been leaving little messages occasionally for him when he’s away. Since missing him felt like it was slowly consuming you, you couldn’t help but leave one on your way inside your apartment.
“Hi Lukey, we are at the halfway mark of this roadie. I miss you so much, I got the pizza from that place you like, just like you like it. With all the papers, and even olives, even though I hate olives, picking them off might make it seem like your home. Love you, good luck tonight against the Kings.”
When Luke watched that video he texted you that he also missed you and he loved you. That was the first time on a roadie in his entire life he ever wished he was home with you instead of where he was.
5. It was your turn Luke!
Finally getting home after a long day at work and walking into your apartment, sighing with content. After changing out of your work clothes into some sweats, you decide you should start dinner before you take a shower and get ready for Luke’s home game tonight. But as you walk into the kitchen you see in the corner the trash overflowing. Immediately you find yourself annoyed at Luke because he promised he would take it out before he left and it was not only overflowing but also started to smell. Deciding ultimately that you need to take the trash out before you make yourself a quick dinner.
As you tie up the bag and carry it to the front door, throw on some of Luke’s crocs by the door since you're only going outside for two minutes to deal with the trash. Still very annoyed at Luke you can’t help but ring the doorbell so he gets a notification.
“LUKE YOU PROMISED. Remember how you said you’d do it before you left but of course you forgot again.” Sighing again you say in a calmer but still very annoyed voice “it’s fine cause I’m doing now but it made the whole kitchen smell, Lukey. I might be late to the game cause I’m gonna burn a candle in the kitchen now” Finally walking away to deal with the trash, the clip ends because ‘movement in front of camera has ended.’
Luke sees the notification while he’s walking into the stadium and his arrival photos are ruined because he’s all red and blushy because you scolded him for forgetting about the trash again. Turns out, you do make it to the game but after puck drop. Luke sees you make your way to your normal seat, always claiming the game didn’t feel as real in the WAGs suite. He happened to skate past your seat to get ready for a power play, when you saw him. He mouths “I’m sorry” as he takes his hand to chest to sign in ASL as well, something that both of you started using while he’s playing. He signs a quick “I love you” before the whistle blows and he’s focused back on the game.
6. First Roadie far away
This wasn’t his first roadie by any means, Luke has been playing hockey his entire life. He has gone on countless roadies from his USA Hockey days to UMitch, hell even his rookie year. But this was the first roadie far away enough that you couldn’t travel to his game since you started living together. This gave the idea of roadies a whole new light. He suddenly wasn’t excited to travel to a new city, play his favorite game and explore a new city, not when you were home in Hoboken. He can’t help himself from turning around and saying goodbye in the camera. Watching it later you could tell that he was truly sad and not pretending as a joke. Sniffling with his suitcase behind him dressed in a nice suit.
“I love you sweetie, I’ll call you when I land. I kinda don’t wanna go… DON’T tell anyone that!” He signs I love you with his right hand. He starts to walk away and you expect the camera to cut out, but then he comes running back. He gets super close to the camera, like you can really just see one eye, his nose and mouth. “BABY! Please don’t kill the plants! I know you think you’ve done really good this time keeping them alive this long. But the truth is I’ve been watering them for you because I didn’t wanna see you cry after killing another African Violet. Which also I googled and it’s almost impossible to do so your kind of the best at being the killer of plants. Okay gotta go before I’m late I love you.”
7. I’ll buy you a new cupcake
Luke decided as a treat for himself that he would get himself just one cupcake from both of your favorite bakeries. There was only one left from the 6 pack you had in the fridge from last week. It was his treat to himself for not having any other cheat meals this week, which is shocking because as you know that boy is ALWAYS eating! Luke also needed to go to the dry cleaners before they closed in 20 minutes. Deciding that he didn’t wanna wait until he got home he ate it on his way out the door.
Of course Lukes luck, the movement in front of the ring was enough for a notification to be sent out. Immediately as Luke is still chewing the cupcake, your voice comes blaring from the speaker.
“LUKE WARREN HUGHES! I KNOW you’re not eating the last cupcake. That you SAID WE’D SHARE WHEN I GOT HOME TONIGHT!” Okay so Luke forgot the other day you wanted to eat it and he begged you not to and that you would share it today, whoops.
“I promise I will buy you some on my way home, I’m sorry baby” Just a mumble of acknowledgement was the only thing that left your mouth.
One week later:
Turns out the same thing happened, Luke and you promised that if both of you didn’t have any cheat meals and stayed to your health routine. Both of you could share the last cupcake. Well this time it was you that ate the cupcake. Luke was very much a pouty mess about it when he walked into the kitchen and saw the container on top of the trash can. Hearing your full name in one breath out of Luke’s mouth, you winced realizing what happened. Except instead of angry Luke comes to you on the couch, face full of pout, and puppy eyes truly sad that he couldn’t have the treat he was looking forward to for days because you ate it with your lunch this afternoon.
“I’m sorry Lukey” opening your opens and immediately he flops into them.
“I really wanted it!” he pouted.
“I know. I am sorry I’ll buy you more tomorrow okay.” Luke only nodded his head yes as he dug himself deeper into your embrace as one hand started caressing his back, the other digging your fingers into his curls lightly scratching.
8. Next time I’ll wait
It’s a Monday afternoon and you’ve been waiting all weekend for a new pair of shoes to be delivered. They were a pair of limited edition converse and you were excited to get them in before you traveled to Europe for the Stadium Series that opened your boyfriend’s NHL season. Naturally every little alert you get from the ring app your checking. Most of them have just been neighbors walking past to get to their own apartments. But it still doesn’t stop you form opening the notification you just got.
Now what you weren’t expecting to see was but also wasn’t surprised to see. Is Luke running outside of the apartment with a pot that’s on fire because he accidentally set something on fire while cooking. The embarrassment is clear on his face when he comes back a minute later with no pot in sight, assuming he left it outside in the leftover snow from a few days ago. Thinking he got away with his cooking disaster until he makes direct eye contact with the ring camera and suddenly remembers its existence.
He decides to just rip the bandaid off and looks directly into the camera as he says “we're out of eggs by the way.”
Deciding to just talk to Luke now you press the speak button and with a light chuckle you add “well and a new pan since I no longer see it. I hope it wasn’t the one that I love.”
Luke suddenly looks like a deer in headlights, obviously he wasn’t expecting you to be watching him run out of the apartment with a pan on fire. “Uhhh I’ll buy you a whole new set, the ones you have saved on amazon, the colored ones!”
“Okay. baby next time can you wait 5 minutes until I’m home”
A giant sigh leaves Luke’s lips as his face starts to form his famous pout, “Yeah okay”
#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes fic#luke hughes blurb#hughes fanfiction#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#hughes imagine#new jersey devils x reader#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils fanfic#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#schwritingslh43
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How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.
I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!
I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.
Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.
Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.
Nevertheless, back to the reader!
From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.
One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.
Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!
They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.
Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.
When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.
So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.
Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.
It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.
Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.
The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.
The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.
It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.
Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.
However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.
Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.
You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.
Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!
Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.
So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.
Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.
He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.
No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.
Let's just say, things work out a little too well.
---
As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!
Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!
I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.
So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.
This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.
... Hopefully.
I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.
Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.
Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.
Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.
The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!
Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.
Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)
I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.
Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.
The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.
So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.
Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.
Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.
So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.
I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?
So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.
I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!
#platonic yandere batfam#yandere batfam#gn reader#sibling reader#yandere dc#yandere x gn reader#platonic yandere#yandere alfred#neglected reader#talking daydreams#yandere batman
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[Translation] Asagiri Kafka's afterwords for The Day I Picked up Dazai novel
Normally, afterwords would be the last thing I read in a novel, but as there are not many changes to the published novel this time compared to the movie bonus version, I was able to skim through the text quickly and get to this. And to be honest, despite not being a writer myself, I was so moved by Asagiri's views about writing and his characters that he shared in the afterwords, that I had to sit down and translate it right away.
This is just my crappy translation, as usual, but I hope it gave you a short, interesting look into the author and the characters. And please do not forget to buy the novel if you have the chance.
The translation is under the cut, thank you!
It has been a while. This is Asagiri Kafka.
Have you been enjoying Bungou Stray Dogs?
This novel, “The Day I Picked up Dazai”, is a compilation of the first week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side A” and the second week’s bonus novel “The Day I Picked up Dazai – Side B” for the screening of “Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST” movie (hereinafter referred to as “BEAST”).
Normally, it is difficult to publish a bonus like this, but since "BEAST” and “Fifteen” that were published earlier by BEANS Bunko were originally bonus novels too, "The Day I Picked up Dazai” was also published in the same way, thanks to the efforts of all parties involved in the Bungou Stray Dogs series.
It is the story of Dazai and Odasaku’s first meeting, where Dazai who wants to die, collapsed in front of Odasaku’s place, who is neither a mafioso nor a hit man.
Why are there two different stores, Side A and Sode B? Regarding this question, please read the novel and see for yourself. If you keep in mind that this is the bonus for the BEAST movie, I think you will be able to understand it better.
Let me reminisce a little bit here.
This story was actually suggested to me by Igarashi Takuya, Director of the Bungou Stray Dogs anime.
Shortly before BEAST movie premiered, I was struggling. It was because I was asked to write a bonus novel for movie-goers again. I said “again” because, as I mentioned earlier, BEAST itself was a bonus novel for the Bungou Stray Dogs DEAD APPLE movie. I remembered having a hard time writing it, because I let myself run wild and wrote a total of 190 pages instead of 50 pages as requested.
But I had learnt my lesson after the last rampage. I can’t just write whatever I want anymore. I have to wrap the story in a reasonable length, like a pro should do.
A proper, professional story.
Huh?
My pen stopped right there. I stopped, looked around, feeling lost.
What is a proper story?
The act of writing novel is quite different in character compared to other types of media such as writing manga, anime scripts, or game scenarios. You can say it is almost a different thing. Writing novels, rather than narrating an event, is more like putting the flow of emotions into specific sentences. You use the sequence of letters to create rhythms, create flows, and create emotions. If anything, it might be closer to composing a song than writing a story.
Therefore, you have to decide “what kind of emotion will be put in this novel” from the very beginning, or you can’t start writing. That is the only and absolute rule.
Now, however, that is where the condition of a “proper story” hung over me.
A proper novel, of a proper volume, with a proper content for a bonus.
In other words, a proper emotion.
I searched through the drawers inside my head. For a proper emotion that is waiting to be brought out.
There was nothing but emptiness there.
A professional story teller is one with the skill to move the readers’ emotions. When people find the chance to move their own emotions, they will happily be paying for it. Human-being is that kind of creature.
And writers are ones who create and sell those kinds of emotions: the fear, the excitement, the heart throb etc., those that make you think. It is that kind of job.
It is supposed to be that kind of job.
Yet I became unable to move forward.
A good story is a story that moves people. I know that. Then what kind of emotion I should put in the story to make it "proper"?
How do I find that emotion?
I mean, how did I even write novels until now?
I stood still. My legs stiffened, my knees froze, unable to take even a step forward.
I then tried to at least pretend that I was moving forward, by listening to music, by taking a walk around the neighborhood at night. But as good as the night breeze felt, I didn’t manage to reach a single story that I needed to write.
What if I stayed like this forever, what would I do?
I felt a chill plunging into my back.
Then I realized, that stories, or probably emotions too, are not things you can search for or come up with. You have no choice but to patiently wait for it to come your way. You have no choice but to humbly and earnestly sit and wait for the story’s visit.
I got that, but the "proper 50-page story” still refused to come.
It was not long before one week passed. Then two weeks.
I was doing other work, while keeping my heart’s door open, waiting for the story to come to me.
At that time, I had an online meeting with the anime staff. I casually asked Director Igarashi, “Do you have any story you want to see?”
The Director gave it a little thought then told me, "I want to see the story of Dazai and Oda’s encounter”.
At that very moment, the story rushed in through my door, like a bang. I could hear that sound very clearly.
Two stories. Odasaku, and the two Dazais. A story where they met, and a story where they couldn’t meet. A story of gain and a story of loss. If I can portray the gain and loss side by side, the amplitude of the heart will be doubled and rise up in front of us.
That was a momentary event. Rather than pushing my way forward, I felt as if something was pulling my hand. Before I noticed, I have already finished the stories.
I came to realize.
It is not the writer who searches for the story. It is the story that chooses its writer, and at some point it will come our way. A professional writer is no more than someone with the ability to catch that call.
Also, this is the most important thing: there is no such thing as a “proper emotion”. Because after all, the feelings of other people belong to them only. That is why there is no guarantee that a novel can move others “properly”. However, you can move your own emotions. You know what kind of novel can and how it will move you. If you do, you can write just that. That’s the only way. That is the truly professional attitude. That’s what I thought.
Well then.
It is a little bit off topic, but as we are talking about “stories that come our way”, let’s talk about Odasaku’s first-person narrative.
Odasaku is a special character. For me, he is exclusively a novel character, and I have never portrayed him in the manga.
He first appeared as the narrator in “Dazai Osamu and The Dark Era”, then “BEAST” and now this “The Day I Picked up Dazai”. All are novels. That’s why for me, Odasaku doesn’t live inside the pictures, he lives inside the first-person narrative passages.
He is an eccentric guy. Even if you prepare the place and tell him to speak, he won’t speak to you that easily. His way of thinking is rather unique, that if I write his narrative after writing other characters’ first-person narrative, I would stumble for sure. Odasaku doesn’t speak. He just sits there in silence, while I can do nothing but sitting in front of my blank manuscript paper, trying to talk to him, like “What’s up?”, “Here, here”. However, he is a guy who won’t speak when it is not necessary. Sometimes it goes days or even weeks without him saying a word. Why did such a character come to me...?
During such time, there is only one thing I can do. That is, of course, to stay with him, sit patiently, and simply wait.
Finally he will start speaking. In his unique rhythm, word by word. His words have the power to cut through the world from a certain angle. That special cross-section is full of things I have never seen before and it never fails to surprise me.
And then when he finishes telling his story, he will swiftly disappear. To a dark and quiet place somewhere – probably, I can only imagine, somewhere like a bar. He will sit there calmly and keep his own time to himself. After that, it will be hard to call him again. It is a backbreaking task to me, but in the end, that is the type of guy Odasaku is, and if I am allowed to sound self-conscious, that is Odasaku's charm.
This story was written in such a way. There is a chance that he will come back again. And when he does, I will patiently listen to his voice again.
This story was completed and published thanks to the help of many people: in the Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST movie’s Production Committee, the anime staff, Young Ace’s Editorial Department, BEANS Bunko’s Editorial Department, and the many people who were involved in the publication of the book. Thank you very much. It is all thanks to you that the book was published without any problem this time as well.
Well then, see you in the next story.
Asagiri Kafka.
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birthday gift
yandere!jade leech x reader x yandere!floyd leech
author's note: it's a little late, but i wrote this for jade and floyd's birthday! i was originally gonna write something fluffier for their birthday, but then i came up with this idea and just had to write it ehe. hope you guys enjoy it~
warnings: general yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, obsessive and possessive behaviour, forced isolation, implied forced marriage, power imbalance, dehumanization/objectification (reader is referred to as a gift), non-consensual touching/kissing, biting, some mentions of blood, suggestive themes, implied non-con, reader is essentially sold to the leech twins, honestly jade and floyd are their own warnings
word count: 5582
One thing to remember about the Leech family’s two children was that, despite being twins, they had significant differences; the most obvious of which being how Jade’s polite and reserved demeanour starkly contrasted with Floyd’s brash and outspoken nature. However, another important thing to highlight was that they never wanted the same thing on their birthdays.
You often questioned why this was something you needed to remember, but your questions were always answered whenever you saw how skittish and desperate your parents were whenever the date of the Leech twins’ birthday approached. Due to owing quite the large debt to Mr. Leech, your parents always felt that they had to do everything possible to get on the family’s good side, including buying birthday gifts that catered to the twins’ differing tastes. And that was pretty difficult when they never wanted the same things. You wished they weren’t so fickle.
For several years now, your parents would enlist your help in choosing birthday gifts for the two menaces. You’re the same age as them, so you’d be able to pick out things they would like better than us, is what they would always say to you. You hated it; half because you really wished your parents wouldn’t have to live the rest of their lives in fear of upsetting the Leech family, and half because you were incredibly uncomfortable around Jade and Floyd.
Ever since you’d first had the displeasure of becoming acquainted with the Leech twins, they seemed to have taken an interest in you. During every single one of the events that your family was invited to, they were always hovering around you in some way. You didn’t know who you hated more: Jade, who always seemed to have an eye on you regardless of if you could see him or not; or Floyd, who always insisted on touching you in some way whenever you were within his line of sight. Actually, speaking of those aforementioned events, you had begun to suspect that your family had only been invited to many of those because of you.
During the past few weeks, your parents hadn’t been rushing about to try and find something to buy for the twins, despite it almost being their birthday. However, you had noticed that they seemed almost awkward around you, rarely looking you in the eye and avoiding you as much as possible. It saddened you, as you had always been very close with your parents. They were all you had, even more so since you’d lost most of your friends due to their unwillingness to associate with the Leech twins. That being said, you didn’t want to give them anything more to stress about, so you kept your mouth shut and didn’t confront them about the issue, no matter how much you wanted to.
It was the day before the twins’ birthday party that your parents sat you down on your house’s sofa to talk to you. Their fearful and somewhat guilty expressions only added to your overall feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. “We know that this might be difficult for you to accept…” said your mother in the smallest voice you’d ever heard her use, “But… Mr. Leech has informed us that Jade and Floyd have requested something specific from us for their birthday this year.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you replied, “Something specific? Don’t tell me it’s something expensive. I swear, those two are so…” You stopped yourself before you could say more. Your father gave you a stern look.
“It’s actually quite the opposite,” your mother continued, her voice wavering. She looked like she was about to start crying. Seeing that his wife was having a hard time, your father picked up where she’d left off, “Mr. Leech has offered to overlook our family’s debt to him if we provide his sons with what they have requested.” Instantly, your face brightened. “Then what are we waiting for?! No matter how ridiculous it is, we should find it! If we can get rid of our debt, then we’ll be free,” you exclaimed happily. However, your face fell as soon as you saw that your parents’ expressions hadn’t changed - rather, they had become even more somber.
Your mother began to quietly sob now, clutching onto her husband’s arm for support. Your father put an arm around her shoulders gently, then turned back to you and revealed, “Although it is true that getting rid of our debt is a good thing, there is… another problem. This is because… the birthday gift requested by Jade and Floyd this year is… you.”
Suddenly, you felt like time stopped around you. You couldn’t hear the sound of your parents’ sobs, nor the ticking of the clock hanging on the living room wall. All you could hear was your own heartbeat, gradually picking up in speed and volume. “...What?” you whispered, your voice almost inaudible. That was impossible. In the first place, the twins never wanted the same thing for their birthday - but your father had specifically said that this request was from both of them. And besides, was it really possible to request for a human being as a birthday gift? That was morally wrong on so many levels… but that being said, since when had the Leech family cared about morals? You were sure that they’d done even more morally dubious things in the past, so perhaps the ethics of this situation was something you shouldn’t have even been considering.
Once you had calmed down enough to be able to reply, you questioned in a shaky voice, “...And if I refuse?” Your father’s pained expression told you everything you needed to know. There was clearly some sort of consequence set out for your parents if they couldn’t fulfill the Leech twins’ request. Besides, even if it was to get rid of their debt, you were pretty sure that your parents wouldn’t agree to sell you off if there wasn’t some sort of punishment for not doing it. They loved you. It just so happened that the price for refusing this demand that had been thinly veiled as a “request” was too steep - steeper than giving up their only child to a pair of horrible people.
You were scared, terrified, of what would happen if you accepted and walked right into Jade and Floyd’s arms; but at the same time, you didn’t want anything to happen to your beloved parents.
And the latter sentiment outweighed the former.
You forced a bright smile onto your face and embraced your parents, patting their backs in a way that you hoped was reassuring. “It’ll be alright! Jade and Floyd clearly like me more than most people, so they surely won’t do anything too bad to me. And I won’t be gone forever! I’ll still visit whenever I can, and you’ll get to see me at those dinner parties we always go to… Don’t worry. I can manage this,” you told your parents, putting all of your effort into keeping up the confident tone you had taken on despite your fear. Your parents scrutinized your beaming expression for a moment, before they attempted to mirror the smile, albeit a little shakily. Your mother whispered, “Yes… You’re right. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
So that conversation was what led you to this way-too-fancy room the next day, where a handful of maids forced you into a way-too-fancy outfit (after thoroughly bathing you, much to your discomfort) and made you put on some way-too-fancy makeup and accessories in preparation for the party. It honestly felt more like you were going to a wedding than to a birthday party. The idea made you sick to your stomach.
The party venue was lavishly decorated. You would have called it nice if it wasn’t for the situation you were currently in. This year, the birthday party was taking place on land, at one of the many buildings owned by the Leech family. You remembered the first time you had been forced to go to Jade and Floyd’s birthday party - that year, it had taken place under the sea. Seeing the Coral Sea had been incredibly awe-inspiring, despite how much of a hassle it had been to acquire the items needed to go underwater. You found yourself hoping that this year’s party would have been under the sea as well. That way, maybe it would have been easier to distract yourself from your impending doom.
…Was that a bit too dramatic of a description? Maybe. But you found it fitting either way.
You were made to sit in a room by yourself for quite a while as the party started outside. Eventually, someone would come in to get you and bring you to Jade and Floyd. You just had to wait until then. To be honest, you wished that they hadn’t left you by yourself for an extended period of time. It only made you think about everything more, increasing the intensity of the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. There were many worrying implications about being given to the Leech twins as a birthday gift, none of which you wanted to think about for too long. But all you could do right now was think.
Finally, the door opened. Your head shot up towards the direction of the sound, and you met eyes with a pair of heterochromatic ones. “My, my. Were you waiting for me? It’s quite lovely to know that you were looking forward to this as much as I was,” said the person who entered the room, hiding a toothy smile behind one of his gloved hands. It was Jade who had entered, which surprised you, as you had been expecting one of the maids from before to be the one to fetch you. Before replying, you couldn’t help but scan your eyes over his form. He was wearing an elegant suit that really looked good on him. You hated to admit it, but he was quite attractive.
“Like what you see?” Jade asked in a teasing tone, finally revealing his sharp smirk, “Heh. I must say, you look absolutely wonderful in that outfit of yours. I see that I picked well.” Stunned, you mumbled, “...You picked this outfit?” He nodded, then closed the gap between you and him in a few smooth strides. Offering you his arm, he suggested, “Well then, shall we get going? Floyd is also quite excited to see you. We shouldn’t make him wait.” Your eyes darted between Jade’s outstretched arm and his own eyes. There was a certain glint in them, almost as if he was daring you to defy him. Deciding that it would be best to go along with the situation for now - more for your parents’ sake than yours - you swallowed your refusal and gingerly linked your arm with his. He gave you a pleased smile, then began to lead you out of the room.
The room you had been in connected directly to the party venue, which you had also passed through earlier to get to said room. Most of the party guests were busy talking amongst themselves, so not many noticed your arrival to the venue. You spotted Mr. and Mrs. Leech in the far corner of the room, talking with a silver-haired lady who you remembered seeing at a few of the other events you’d been to previously. However, you couldn’t find your parents anywhere. Where were they?
Suddenly, your thoughts were cut short by someone tackling you in a strong hug. “Shrimpy! Theeeere you are~” exclaimed the person that was currently squeezing the life out of you. You didn’t need to see his face to know that this was Floyd. He was the only one who called you by that ridiculous nickname (sure, you might have looked small next to the twins, but you weren’t that short) and gave you bone-crushing hugs like this one. Once he had gotten his fill of hugging you for now, Floyd pulled away and grinned widely at you. However, despite the fact that he had stopped hugging you, he still kept an arm around your waist. You wished he wouldn’t.
Jade came to stand on your other side, placing a palm on your shoulder. You really didn’t like the close proximity that both twins had to you, but you refrained from saying anything in fear of making them upset. Leaning down, Jade whispered, “Don’t you have anything you want to say to us, darling?” While he spoke, you could feel his breath on your ear, making you shiver. He moved his body so he was facing you, and Floyd went to his side, the both of them smiling down at you eerily. You took a moment to think about what it was they wanted you to say, and eventually, you settled on saying, “Um… H-Happy birthday.”
The twins’ expressions told you that you had indeed said the right thing, which made you relax slightly. However, you tensed up again when Floyd grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the two of them, allowing both of them to wrap their arms around you in an embrace. At first, you didn’t hug back, but as soon as you felt one of them squeeze your hip painfully (likely Floyd), you hastily reciprocated, wrapping one arm around each twin.
The hug lasted for much longer than you wanted it to. Eventually, Jade pulled away, giving you a closed-eyed smile. However, Floyd stayed as he was, latched onto your side. All of a sudden, you felt something brush against your cheek, and then you noticed all at once just how close Floyd’s face was to yours. Your eyes widened, and you froze. However, before Floyd could do anything, Jade cleared his throat and reminded, “Floyd. Please save that for later. We should take them to see Father and Mother now.” Floyd whined annoyedly, but listened to his brother and moved away from you, instead slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Aight, let’s go then,” he responded, “I wanna get this stupid party over with so we can get to the real fun.” The implications of his words, as well as the sleazy grin he gave you after he finished his sentence, made you want to disappear then and there.
The Leech twins guided you over to where their parents were. Mr. and Mrs. Leech were still where you’d seen them, along with that silver-haired lady and a young man that looked a lot like her. You assumed that was her son, who you’d seen around the twins quite a few times. Your arrival made the attention of all four people turn to you. Mrs. Leech was the first to greet the three of you, giving both of her sons a quick hug before outstretching her arms towards you and saying, “It’s so nice to see you again! You look adorable in that outfit, sweetheart. It seems my Jade really does know your clothing taste.”
Although you didn’t want to accept her hug, something told you that refusing it would be bad, so you forced a smile onto your face and approached Mrs. Leech. After your short embrace, you replied to her, ��It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Leech. I was very, um… e-excited to come to the party today.” She beamed at you and clapped her hands happily, exclaiming, “Oh, I’m sure you were! Also, sweetheart, there’s no need for the formalities. You can just call me mother.”
A cold sweat ran down your back as you heard her final sentence. You opened your mouth to retort, but you were cut off by the silver-haired lady, who said, “Ah, so this is the person who Jade and Floyd are so interested in. It’s nice to meet you! You may call me Ms. Ashengrotto. My son is good friends with Jade and Floyd.” You nodded politely to Ms. Ashengrotto, desperately trying to keep the smile on your face. Then, your eyes wandered to the young man next to her, who gave you a smile as fake as your own and greeted, “My name is Azul Ashengrotto. I’ve been friends with Jade and Floyd since childhood. It’s delightful that they’ve found a suitable partner for themselves, truly.”
As Jade turned to Azul and addressed him in a hushed whisper, you were approached by Mr. Leech, who extended a hand to you for a handshake. You accepted, saying, “H-Hello, Mr. Leech… How are you?” Mr. Leech had always been a stern and quiet man for as long as you’d known him, so you were surprised when he cracked a small smile and replied, “Good. Yourself?” You answered that you were also good, despite that being a total lie, and then proceeded to engage in small talk with the Leeches and Ms. Ashengrotto. Floyd kept an arm around your shoulders the entire time, but was oddly quiet. At some point, Jade and Azul also joined the conversation, but you couldn’t focus much on the content of it, simply autopiloting through it and trying your best to ignore your ever-mounting discomfort.
You spent a few more hours at the party, being paraded around like some sort of pet as Jade and Floyd introduced you - although you’d rather describe it as them showing you off - to the guests at the party. The guest list included many of Mr. Leech’s associates, as well as some people who had attended high school with Jade and Floyd. As pleasant as those people were (you especially liked the one who introduced himself as Kalim Al-Asim; he seemed like a very sweet person), the twins barely allowed you to talk to anyone for more than a minute at a time.
Of course, Jade and Floyd themselves and their parents were exempt to this rule - as was Azul and his mother, though Floyd would show signs of getting annoyed whenever you spent too long looking at Azul specifically. You hated the way he would roughly squeeze at parts of your body and mumble to you in a scary voice whenever he was displeased. However, you also hated the scrutinizing way Jade looked at you the entire duration of the party, as if he was picking each of your interactions apart piece by piece to find something to punish you for later.
During the party, you kept searching for any sign of your parents, but had no luck finding them. At some point, you asked Jade of their whereabouts, but he only shushed you and told you not to worry about it. You had been so close to blowing up at him in the middle of the venue; and you were convinced that he wanted you to, judging by the glint in his eyes and the upwards curve of his lips whenever you showed signs of reaching your limit of patience. This only further encouraged you to keep your calm, as you had a feeling that letting your guard down would only be playing into some sort of devious trap that Jade had quietly set out for you.
Eventually, the party came to an end, and you could safely say that the only thing you liked about it was the food, especially the cake. Floyd was very pleased when you expressed that you liked the cake, and attempted to force-feed you copious amounts of it until Mrs. Leech stepped in and advised him that maybe he should not be doing that. You had expected Jade to have been the one to step in, but he had simply watched with a grin. Perhaps he had also wanted to force-feed you the cake, who knows. It was impossible to read him.
After the party was over, you were led by the twins to an expensive-looking car that had been parked in a specially reserved place in the garage. The car was apparently Jade’s, as he was the one who began to drive the two of you and Floyd to some other location. Floyd was sitting next to you in the backseat of the car and was in a positively giddy mood, acting no different from a child whose parents had agreed to buy him his favourite toy.
“Uh… So, where are we going?” you asked, finally breaking the silence that had previously only been filled by the soft jazz music playing in Jade’s car. “Home,” answered Jade simply, not taking his eyes off of the road. Furrowing your eyebrows, you questioned, “What do you mean by that? Are you driving me back home, or…” Jade chuckled amusedly, but Floyd was the one who replied, “Don’tcha get it yet, Shrimpy? You’re ours now. Your old home isn’t your home anymore! Your new home’s with us, ehe~”
You felt tears spring to your eyes, but furiously willed them not to fall while digging your nails into your palm. You absolutely could not allow yourself to show any weakness in front of these two. They would just eat it up and use it against you later down the line. Suddenly, you felt something touch your thigh, making you jump. It was Floyd, who had splayed his palm across the upper part of your leg. He looked at you with a razor-sharp grin, drawling, “Aww, is lil’ Shrimpy gonna cry~? Thaaat’s okay! You can cry with us. You’re safe.”
Floyd’s words finally caused the metaphorical dam holding back your emotions to collapse. You shoved his hand off of your thigh and screamed, “Safe? Safe?! How could you possibly suggest that I’m safe?! I should be at home, with my parents, doing whatever the fuck I want with my life… instead of in a car with two monsters who have no regard for my feelings! Why did you two even want me anyway?! I should be worth nothing to you, so… Give me back my life!”
Through your outburst, you hadn’t even noticed that the car had stopped and the three of you had arrived at your destination. As you sobbed and sobbed, angrily pushing away any attempt Floyd made to touch you again, Jade’s smooth voice cut through the air, “Please stop being unreasonable. We have arrived, so exit the car and follow us to your new home.” Clutching at your chest, you yelled, “NO!” Floyd frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his twin, “Floyd, can you go and unlock the door? I’ll deal with them.” Begrudgingly, Floyd complied and got out of the car, leaving the scene.
You continued to cry in the backseat as Jade exited the driver’s seat and walked over to the back door of the car, opening it and reaching in for you. You flinched away and reflexively swung your arms outwards, hitting him in the chin. He showed no reaction to your punch and leaned towards you, undoing your seatbelt and picking you up with ease. Although you struggled as much as you could, you were no match for Jade’s strength, and he was able to carry you inside the building you had arrived at with little to no trouble.
A few moments later, Jade set you down on a soft surface, and it was then that you finally opened your eyes to observe your surroundings. You seemed to be sitting on a sofa in a very fancily furnished living room. Floyd was next to you, staring at you with an impassive face. His lack of emotion scared you; you were so used to his hyper-expressiveness, and the fact that he was currently poker-faced couldn’t mean anything good. Jade soon joined the two of you, coming into the room from a hallway that you supposed led to the entrance of this house.
“I believe now is a good time to set out some guidelines that we expect you to follow,” Jade began speaking, regarding you with an expression as neutral as his brother’s, “As Floyd said during the drive here, you belong to us now. That much was established in the deal that your parents made with our father: in exchange for giving you to us, their debt would be waived. However, as I’m sure you have guessed, there will be consequences for both you and your parents if you break any of the rules that we will set now.”
Having mostly calmed down from your outburst by now, you faced Jade and asked, “...What kind of consequences?” He gave you a cold, mirthless smile in response. From behind you, Floyd rested his chin on your shoulder and answered in place of his twin, “Weeeell… Nothin’ too bad will happen to you, Shrimpy. But for your parents… You wouldn’t wanna see ‘em dead, would ya?” You froze instantly at his words. “You wouldn’t,” you whispered, fear seeping into your tone. Jade laughed and then grinned at you, showing off his inhumanly sharp teeth. “We would prefer not to, yes. After all, they will be our in-laws soon. But if the situation calls for it, we won’t deny that it is a possibility,” he declared, carefully observing your reaction.
“In-laws… D-Do you two intend to marry me? I… I don’t understand any of what’s happening!” you exclaimed. Now that you had already shown your emotions to them thanks to your patience reaching its limit in the car earlier, it was pointless to hold yourself back anymore. Floyd giggled eerily, his breath tickling your neck. You tried to move away from him, but his arms seized your waist in a vice grip, preventing you from shimmying away. “I dunno why you haven’t gotten it yet, Shrimpy. You’re kinda stupid, huh? That’s okay, though. I like you anyway~” he started, teasingly, running his lips along your neck and making you shiver. You swallowed down your discomfort and questioned, “W-What do you mean…?”
Chuckling, Jade reached over to take your hands into his. You of course attempted to pull away, but he tightened his grip enough so that you couldn’t. Now that you were caged between both the Leech twins, you felt worse than ever (which was really saying something, considering all the mental turmoil you had been going through for the last twenty-four hours or so).
“Floyd’s not wrong, you know. One would have to be incredibly dense to not have realized the reason behind us requesting you as our gift… But that’s alright. Your cluelessness is endearing too, I suppose,” Jade remarked in a mocking tone, then cleared his throat and continued in a more serious voice, “But since you seem to have trouble grasping the answer, it would be cruel of us to withhold it from you any longer. The reason why Floyd and I have brought you here is because we love you. And naturally, since we do love you, we wanted to have you, which is why we asked our father to make a deal with your parents. Do you understand now?”
Jade and Floyd… loved you? No, that wasn’t right. This wasn’t love. This was…
You opened your mouth to retort, but you were quickly silenced by Jade pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. Since your mouth had been open, he was able to stick his tongue into it, coiling it around your own. You tried to turn your head away from him, but one of his hands shot up to hold your jaw in place firmly. His other hand pinned both of yours down to your lap. While Jade kissed you, Floyd’s lips ran over your neck from behind. You could feel his smile against your skin, which made you sick. Suddenly, Floyd stopped at one area of your neck and bit down harshly. Your cry was swallowed by Jade’s mouth as he refused to let you pull away even though you were beginning to feel the need to breathe. At the same time, Floyd’s arms tightened painfully around your waist, and you were sure that bruises would soon form there, as well as on your jaw where Jade’s fingers held it in place.
After what felt like ages, Jade finally pulled away from you, leaving you gasping for breath. Floyd also removed his teeth from your skin, licking at the bite mark he left behind with an airy giggle. “Now that you understand the situation, allow me to continue the topic of rules,” said Jade. He had a slight blush over his countenance as he spoke, which was quite unusual to see from him due to how put-together he always seemed.
“First of all, outbursts like the one you had earlier will be punished accordingly. However, since the one earlier today was your first, we will let that one slide,” Jade continued, lowering the hand that he’d had on your jaw back to join his other one on your lap, “Secondly, you are not allowed to contact anyone outside of our family. Yes, this includes your parents; however, if you prove to us that you intend to be good, you may be allowed to see them again in the future. And finally, you are to stay in this house unless you are accompanied by one of us. Is that clear?”
To be honest, you had expected more rules than just three (though you supposed that those three were pretty restrictive in and of themselves). Still taken aback from the twins’ earlier actions, you simply nodded in response, figuring that it was better to agree for now. This earned you a laugh from Floyd, who commented, “Look Jade, they’re speechless! Didja like our kisses that much, Shrimpy~?” You turned back towards Floyd to snap at him, but stopped yourself midway. He smirked at you, as if challenging you to say what you wanted to - probably because he wanted an excuse to punish you. When you showed no sign of falling for the bait, he pouted.
Standing up from the couch, Jade offered you a hand and suggested, “Well, it is getting quite late, and we’ve had a long day. Shall we all retire for the night?” You glared up at him and attempted to stand without accepting his “help”, but yelped when Floyd abruptly picked you up and started walking out of the living room on his own accord. “Put me down!” you hissed, narrowly missing Floyd’s cheek with a punch. “Nah, don’t feel like it~” he replied liltingly.
Floyd brought you down a hallway and threw open a door at the end of it. Once he had done so, he waltzed inside the room and plopped you down onto a bed. Your eyes widened as you took in the room. It was furnished exactly the way you liked it. The colour scheme was exactly like the one in your bedroom at home, and there were even some of your personal items that you recognized among the decorations. The only difference was that the room was much larger than yours, and so was the bed - it was so big that it looked like it could fit three people.
Using your confusion to his advantage, Floyd joined you on the bed and pinned you underneath him in a matter of a few seconds. The grin that he flashed down at you was downright predatory, and he declared, “Now it’s time to do what I’ve been waiting to, ehe~” You heard the door close and lock as Jade entered the room, taking a seat on the bed next to the two of you. “Surprised? I designed this room for you. I thought you would like it,” he remarked casually, as if the fact that he’d gotten the design nothing short of perfect wasn’t creepy. It was like the outfit he’d chosen for you for the party: perfectly catered to you in every way possible.
Before you could reply, Floyd crashed his lips onto yours from above, taking your breath away. You moaned in discomfort as he pressed the weight of his body down onto you, completely restricting your movement. His tongue shot into your mouth and explored every corner of it as his teeth clacked against yours and left bloody scratches all over your lips. No matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t win against him. Just as you thought you were about to pass out, Floyd pulled away, moving into a sitting position. His lips had splotches of your blood on them, and so did his teeth when he shot you a toothy smile.
You were so focused on recovering from the rough kiss Floyd had given you that you hadn’t noticed Jade approaching you and beginning to undo the buttons on your outfit. Your hands grasped at his, trying to stop him, but Floyd joined him and quickly held you down so you couldn’t do anything. “S-Stop! I don’t want this!” you shouted, putting as much effort as you could in attempting to get away, however fruitless it may be. Jade ran his lips over your now-exposed collarbone, murmuring, “You had no choice in the matter from the start, dearest.” At the same time, Floyd grabbed your jaw and turned your face towards him, all while adding onto what his twin had said, “After all, if you’re ours, we can do anything we want to ya~ Prepare yourself, Shrimpy. It’s time to have some fun!”
It had always been important to remember that Jade Leech and Floyd Leech never wanted the same thing for their birthday. And now that you were caught in their hold, unable to escape, you found yourself wishing that that fact had never changed.
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst x reader#yandere twst#yandere twst x reader#jade leech#jade leech x reader#yandere jade leech#yandere jade leech x reader#floyd leech#floyd leech x reader#yandere floyd leech#yandere floyd leech x reader#kanata-writings
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Family Resemblance
Summary: You turn up on the doorstep of Wayne Manor, pleading for your brother to let you in. (Damian Wayne x sis!reader)
Word Count: 2.5K
Notes: I originally had the Harley fic for today but I can't find it??? So ofc I did what I did best and wrote an entirely new one for today. Pivoted hard too smh. I hope people enjoy it! First Damian fic for this site so I'm still getting his personality down. Hope that people enjoy him regardless, and sorry to anyone who actually checked ahead and wanted the Harley one, I'll throw it on my blog after Angstober when I find it. Much Love~! xx
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If Damian Wayne was a spitting image of Bruce, then your mannerisms were exactly the same as Thalia's.
He had inherited the black hair and facial features of his father, something that rich Gothamites liked to point out at the galas repeatedly. However the way you held yourself on the doorstep, the tilt of your head and the shimmer in your eyes were anything but Bruce's. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that it was Thalia herself standing there.
"What do you want?" he asked coarsely, untrusting. His eyes flicker over you, the way your eyes are rimmed and puffy, and the frown on your face. He blocks the entrance with his body, half a mind to leave you on the doorstep.
"It's been so long since we saw each other, Damian." you say softly, frown deepening. "I thought you might be happy to see me."
He scoffs. "You're still an agent of the League." he responds. "I doubt this is a personal call."
"Well, you better believe it." you say firmly, arms hugging your side. "I'm here to request protection."
His eyebrows shoot upwards at that, leaning on the doorframe. "Yeah, right." his says, tone disbelieving. "You, a fully trained assassin, can't take care of herself? I didn't realise the League had gotten so weak in recent days."
You bristle at that, the way that you tighten your hold and your jaw, but you just turn your head away and do not say anything. Damian remembered you as a spitfire, although you both were much younger then. You had a fiercely competitive spirit, and he would frequently catch you training to surpass him. Now you were taller, facial features a little more defined. Your hair was a little different, but still the same colour he remembered. What made him suspicious however was that the pride you usually had, the sheer arrogance that came with being the grandchild of Ras Ah Ghul, was diminished. He had never seen you hang your head outside of being scolded or disciplined by the League, and he hadn't expected to see it on the doorstep of Wayne manor of all things.
"Damian, please." you say with a sigh, shaking your head in defeat. "I have nowhere to go."
He sighs but tosses his head. Sure, you were his twin, his sister, but his gut won out. "I can't let you in." he says, frowning. "The League will be mad if they know you're here. You should go home before mother finds out, if she hasn't already."
He goes to close the door, but you block it with your foot.
"I'm running from them!" you shout, eyes glossing over as you press against the door, fighting to get it open. "They're going to kill me, please Damian, please! Mother, the League, they're going to kill me." you cry, sticking an arm though the crack you've managed to hold open.
"Just what is happening here?" Comes a stern voice, followed by the clipping of dress shoes. Damian turns to see Alfred, a frown pulled over the elderly man's face. With the moment of distraction you shove the door forward, throwing Damian off balance and eh stumbles away from the door. Now that it's fully open you rush through, the tears that were brewing now dripping from the corner of your eyes.
"You have to help me." you say, lips trembling and gaze fitting between your brother and the elderly man. Alfred looks between you and Damian, who's rolling his eyes. "Don't believe them." he scoffs. Alfred looks at him with a disappointed look.
"And what makes you say that, Master Damian?"
"Because she's my sister." he huffs, pushing off from rocking on his heels. "And like our mother, she's a liar."
Alfred looks down at him in shock before turning back to you and gently grabbing your arm. He sends a pointed look to Damian. "Go fetch your father, he is in his office this evening." he says, making Damian narrow his eyes.
"You cannot be serious."
Alfred meets his stare, managing to get Damian to look away first. "I think if he has another child, he deserves to know." he says haughtily, before his face warms looking back to you. "Let's get you settled with a nice cup of tea, and you can let me know what's brought you here today, hm?" he says, making a smile ripple across your face.
"I'd like that." your sniffle, rubbing at your nose. As Alfred leads you away you send a hopeful stare to your brother, who responds with a glare before he turns on his heel.
Alfred entertains you until a man comes into the living room, well dressed but eyes are tired and lined with bags. Damian trails behind him, matching the clipped step of the older man. You meet the eyes of the man you know as Bruce Wayne, rising to your feet and giving him a slight bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you." you say softly, eyes hesitant as you look at him. A smile falls across Bruce’s face, and he crouches to your height.
"No need for formality. Damian tells me you’re his sister, is that right?" he asks softly. You study his face, and you can see your brother in his features, the lines of his chin and nose. The same black hair, same one-sided grin that falls to the left.
"That's correct, sir." you say politely. "We're twins."
Bruce hums, standing up and walking to one side of the couch to settle. "I assume you know that I'm your father then too?" he asks, and you can see in his body language that he's preparing for the chance that you weren't aware.
"I know." you say softly. "Mother told me when we sent Damian away."
You see how his eyes darken when you mention Thalia, knuckles coming up for his teeth to scrape against. Then he hums, and the hesitance that was around him fades. "Damian also tells me that you're also a part of the League." The warmth that he was holding flickers away for a brief second, and you can see the eyes of Batman studying you, even without the cowl.
You nod. "Yes sir." you say, eyes filling up once more. "I was being trained alongside Damian, and mother continued after he left. However, I made her angry, well, not her exactly..." you trail off. "I made grandfather angry."
Bruce leans forward onto his knees, and Damian sends you a quizzical glance from your peripheral vision. "You mean Ras?" he asks.
You nod, wiping your tears with your fingers before Alfred offers you the handkerchief from his pocket.
"I wanted to prove myself, but when it came to it, to having to kill someone..." you take a shaky breath. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't do something that awful. I realised that killing senselessly wasn't going to fix the world. When I refused, Grandfather chased me out. Even mother." your hands shaky as you cry into the handkerchief. "The League is hunting me, and there's never been anyone who's ever escaped their grasp. Except one." you raise your head up, eyes glistening.
"That's why I need your help." you whisper. "I know I had to find my father."
Damian makes a noise of disgust, drawing all sets of eyes to him. He comes forward, arms crossed. "You really believe her?" he asks incredulously, a hand thrown your way in distaste. "She's clearly lying."
"Damian," Bruce warns.
"No, father." he snaps back, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. "I don't know what you want, sister, but you're a liar. You've killed before. We both have, as soon as we could hold a weapon."
"But I realise it was wrong now!" you protest.” I realised that I have a choice, and I could start making my own decisions. I didn't need to kill."
"Bullshit, plus he's not your father-"
"Damian." Bruce calls, voice heavy and stern. His handsome face is sending a glare to Damian, not backing down when the boy sends once back. "That's enough."
Alfred grabs the young boy's arm, making him sit down on the couch opposite you. You turn your eyes back towards Bruce. "Please," you plead, and the older man sighs. "I don't have anywhere else to run."
Bruce wipes a hand over his face before signalling to Alfred. "Give us a moment, sweetheart." he says, standing and placing a warm hand on your shoulder. "We'll work something out, just give us a second to discuss." He sends you a smile as he and the older man leave the room, headed up the stairs, likely to his study.
That left the both of you in a room together.
It's tense between you two, and the way Damian refuses to look at you doesn't make it better. "Damian, please look at me." you say softly. "Do you really hate me that much?" you begin to cry, trying to keep the sounds sealed behind your lips. That makes Damian break, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"We aren't children anymore." he chides. "Stop crying."
"Sorry Dami." you sniffle, biting your lip. You look over to your brother, fidgeting in your spot and itching to get closer to him. however, you could tell through the body language of the young boy, that he was already closer to you than he'd like.
When you call him that nickname, he lets his shoulders sag. If he was completely honest with his feelings, he would tell you deep down that he did miss you, that he had thought of you the first time he had moved into the manor.
You were twins and were raised together, always together. You slept in the same rooms, you sparred together, you ate together, you did tasks for the League together. Leaving and going to Bruce was the first time he had ever been apart from you, and he could still recall the way you waved goodbye at him sadly when mother had taken his hand and told him he was going to carry out something important.
He had never seen you since, until now.
"I really missed you, Damian." you sniffle, giving him a hopeful smile. "I wanted my brother back. it was so lonely, so so lonely without you. I had no one to spar with, and Mother never let me see you."
"I... missed you too." he huffs out, arms crossing over his chest and your eyes brighten.
"Really?" you ask, voice hopeful. You cast a quick look the way the two older men went before standing up, hands nervously clasped in front of you. "Can I ...Can I hug you again?" your voice wavers, shaking slightly. Damian softens for only a fraction.
Just once, he'd let you hug him like before, and then you would be gone.
Out of his hair. Back to Thalia.
"Just once." he finally concedes as you come over, and he awkwardly holds his arms out once he’d stood up. When he looks down at you and your eyes meet his, he sees his twin sister from those years ago that followed him like a shadow. He saw the traces of your smile that stayed the same, the same way that mother smiled, just a tinge sweeter. However, as your arms wrapped around him and then tightened, he remembered the first thought he had when seeing you again on the doorstep, and his breath catches slightly.
Damian was a spitting image of Bruce, but you were still a mini Thalia.
He can't even push you away when he feels the shooting pain in his back, crying out before your hand clamps over his mouth to muffle the sound.
Your smile, like Thalia's, except coated in a much sweeter poison. Your eyes that were leaking tears so heavily before now cold and scornful.
Damian feels his body drop to the floor, or more accurately, he’s unable to feel his body.
There's a tingle that starts in his fingers and toes but goes up past his arms, limbs not moving when he tries to, mouth not moving in the right shape to form words. "You were so close, brother." you hum, looking down at him crumpled on the floor. The feeling of wetness begins creeping across his back into the shirt he wore, and he knows that it's most likely his blood staining his shirt. "It seems that mother was right, spending time with father has made you soft."
"Why?" he croaks out, trying to crane his head upwards weakly. His face is pressed into the carpet, and he only manages to turn it slightly.
"Because everyone loves you." you spit, and he grows confused. "Because even though you're here, and I'm still there," you hiss, waving the blade you had concealed in your sleeve, "Grandfather still wants you to be the Demons Head. The same way that he wanted father to be his predecessor. Even though I've killed, razed cities, hunted criminals just to show him how much more capable I was than you."
Your words drip with a cold malice, a cruel flicker of your lips pulling in a grin. "But you are right. Mother doesn't know that I'm out. She would forbid me from killing you, but it isn't her decision." you say with a roll of your eyes, as if this situation was all too regular for you. Damian's vision is beginning to grow blurry, the ache turning into a sting and finally a burn that began consuming his back. He groans in pain, the wound angry and he shifts it slightly.
"Now they'll finally see." you say, voice wavering. tears spring back to your eyes, and he can tell that these ones are real this time. You clean the knife with the handkerchief before dropping it in front of his face, the embroidered 'A. P' catching his eye on the blood-soaked cloth.
"I'll be the head of the League that you never deserved to be, the head that people fail to see that I can be."
You storm away from the scene, footsteps light before you turn around. "Goodbye, Damian." you say softly, before you melt into the shadows and he can no longer see you. The logical part of his brain yells at him to slow his breathing to slow the loss of blood and your poison. It screams at him, knowing he should have never gotten caught off guard in the first place. Yet as you walk away, his brain can only conjure the image of the little girl he used to share a room with, who got scared of the dark at night. The same girl who'd steal the things he hated off his plate at mealtime, so he didn't have to eat them.
Even as he slipped into unconsciousness, the sound of alarmed yelling far away ringing in his ears, all he could think about was the young girl he left behind one too many years ago. The young girl who had grown into Thalia faster than he had grown into Bruce.
#messenger of babel#angstober 2024#day 22#fanfic#angstober24#angstober#angst#dc comics#dc fanfic#dc x reader#dc#damian wayne#damian al ghul#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne x female reader#damian wayne x sister reader#dc robin#robin#robin dc#robin x reader#damian robin#damian robin x reader#bruce#alfred
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THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER
HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!
DISCLAIMER
This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!
You have been warned.
ALSO!!!!
The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.
WHAT IS IT?
Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.
(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)
WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?
Quite a lot of reasons, actually.
It's really funny
Let us begin with: the basics.
SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL
HAIR COLOR
This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.
You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.
Well. What other characters have white hair?
You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.
(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)
EYELASHES
(EDIT!!!!! FINALLY PUTTING THIS ON THE MAIN POST!!!
Turns out I was incorrect in this. Some characters (Mira, Isa) also have eyelashes on SOME portraits. The mentioned chars r still notable for Always Having Em, + the Loop lashes are like, literally intended as plot twist foreshadowing, but, hey.
That's what you get for writing essays at 1am.
IN RETURN!!! Someone pointed out to me [i forgot who sorry] that Euphrasie's capelet.... has stars on it!! It's speckled like the starry sky!! Now isn't that a neat coinkydink.)
(Original text left up because I respect my past self's artistic vision. And his lunacy.)
Correct. Eyelashes.
Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.
So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.
(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)
SPEAKING HABITS
(EDIT!!! Another Point that is Kind Of Off, in that other characters [e.g. Odile] also do this occasionally. Again, keeping the text for my creative vision.
In return I get to inform you that the King makes the "not so bright, Bright One" pun TWICE in different loops, thus implying the King likes puns. Take this as you will. That's been my psychic damage, buhbyeeee~)
Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?
And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?
And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.
So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.
Which two other people also do.
Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!
Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)
Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:
THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN
I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?
The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?
All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.
I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.
The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.
You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.
Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]
Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?
Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.
Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:
Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.
On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.
Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!
(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)
Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.
Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.
The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.
"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."
And Odile also remarks the following
Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.
This will be relevant later. Moving on.
CONTRIVANCES
THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY
SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:
Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.
This reveals to us several things:
This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating
Someone from the House was using it for study
All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence
Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation
However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.
Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.
(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)
Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:
(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)
BOOKS
During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.
Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.
Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!
As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?
These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.
(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)
CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION
Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead
they forgot where they're from.
One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.
And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.
Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.
Now. The real cinch of this.
Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?
Answer me this, then.
How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?
1. How could she read it?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.
The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.
There are no legible records of Wish Craft.
2. What about the Favor Tree?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.
Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.
(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)
Except, when Isabeau talks about it...
Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?
He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.
To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.
And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.
If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.
3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting
At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.
It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!
There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.
To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.
If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.
There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.
If she knew it all beforehand already.
#Feli speaks#in stars and time#isat spoilers#isat#euphrasie isat#head housemaiden#ALL THE TAGS. I NEED PEOPLE TO LOOK AT THIS. PLEASE. IT'S 1:30 IN THE MORNING.#i spent two hours on this i think
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after sex w/ yunho
wrote this while i should’ve been getting ready for work lmaoooo
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yunho groaned from where he lay beside you. “up you get, little one,” he said, voice hoarse from where he’d been barking instructions at you for the past hour or so. you pout at him, really not wanting to leave his warm embrace and face the cold word that awaited outside your bed, “don’t give me that look.”
“what look?” you furrow your brows at him.
“that one right there,” he grumbles, “the one where you look like a homocidal chihuahua - all pouty lips and angry eyebrows and not a thought between them.”
he smirks as he you slap his chest. the sound reverberates around the room and it stings a little, but yunho can take a lot more than that. he’s pretty sure his back is bleeding in more than a few places from where you’d been clawing at it. maybe you were more like a chihuahua than he originally thought.
“i think,” you argue, “i think so much!”
he hums.
“you think too much,” his eyes land on your flaming eyes and he struggles to hold back a laugh. even when you’re trying to seem intimidating, he can’t help but find you adorable. you’re like a cute puppy that has a penchant for ankle biting - your expression of frustration only made you that much more sweet, “and nothing you think about is ever relevant. face it, pipsqueak, you’re a chronic overthinker; now get up, will you?”
he has you dead to rights there, shutting you up before you can even slip another word through your lips. instead you scrunch your face up and cross your arms in one last act of defiance. you don’t want to get up, and even though you know he’ll make you, you can at least make it difficult for him.
a small shove against your shoulder is immediately followed by another one, and if yunho’s tactic is annoying you into getting up, you’re afraid he might be successful. the first two pushes are nothing you can’t live with, but then he pushes you a third time, and then a forth, and then you let out an annoyed groan. clearly yunho wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
“why do i have to get up anyway?” you say as you roll a couple of inches away from him. of course, he just follows and continues his prior annoyance on you, “i’m comfy here in your arms, and you promised we could be ‘gross and shower in the morning’.”
“we can be gross and shower tomorrow,” he replies, “but you know well and good that we pee after sex in this household, missy. being gross and sweaty for a night is completely different to getting a UTI, don’t you think?”
you mutter some expletives under your breath, because fuck him for being right. always so smart, and always so smug about it too. you give him a single petty shove back before rolling to the edge of the bed and standing up. your limbs feel heavy, and you almost wish you could rewind a few seconds and beg yunho to carry you instead. he’d probably have done it, too, but it’s too late now. with you already standing next to the bed, achy limbs and all, he’d probably just shoo you away if you asked.
you go to walk away, managing to take a single step before he grabs you by the wrist. you turn to him, noticing the sly smile he wears, and cock a brow.
“what?” you ask.
“you know what.”
“yunho, they’re covering in my cum,” you groan, “that’s so gross.”
he scoffs.
“you’re covered in your cum too, but i don’t think you’re gross.”
again, you groan. you know exactly what he’s asking for, and you know he’s not going to give up until he gets it. with a sigh and a slow, disgruntled hand, you pick your abandoned panties off of the floor and throw them at him. they hit his chest with a slap, and he can’t help but giggle to himself as he lifts them to his face and takes a sniff.
“thanks, hot stuff,” his voice is muffled by the material, “now hurry up and pee so you can come back and cuddle.”
you sigh.
“fine, but you better not have a boner when i get back!”
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez smut#ateez headcanons#yunho fanfic#yunho scenarios#yunho x reader
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HIS SISTER?! | Denki Kaminari
Summary | Denki met a cute girl in the support course with red eyes and blonde hair. What will happen when they go back to his dorm and he founds out who her brother is?
CW | None really, protective brother Bakugo maybe
Word Count | 1.2k+
A/N | This is an idea I thought could be funny. I wrote this like probably more than 2 years ago on a different site originally. I might rewrite it at some point
"Here it is!" You say excitedly, holding out the device to the blond boy. "This goes on your arm, like you requested." You help him put the device on, showing him how he should put it on. "If we go outside, I can show you how to use it?"
"Wow, thank you!" Denki looks down at the new equipment strapped to his arm before looking back at you.
You laugh a little. "You're welcome! It's only a prototype, so let me know if there's any changes you want, other than appearance, that isn't done yet. Feel free to tell me any extra requests you have regarding that, by the way."
The two of you walk through the corridors, out to the grounds of the school. You continue to walk for a while to get away from the main campus, not wanting anyone to get caught up in the tests.
"Okay, so all you need to do is point to where you want the discs and shoot." I tell him, gently tapping on the trigger device. "Go ahead and try it. Aim at that tree."
He watches as you step back, waiting for you to nod to let him know you're far enough out of the way. He presses down on the trigger, jumping back a little at the kickback from the device, not expecting it, pointer missing the tree.
"Ahh, I missed!"
"It's okay! That was your first try, you'll get better with practice! The aim can be a little bit tricky at the start, don't worry about it!" You try to offer a little comfort as you jog over and retrieve the disc. "There will be more discs in the final, I have only made one for practice so far."
You take his arm and show him how to reload the discs into the pointer, him looking between the device and your face, trying to focus on what you are showing him, but getting distracted, lost in your bright red eyes.
"If you don't remember, that's fine! Like I said, it's only a prototype, it may work a little differently in the final design." When you look back at him, there's a soft blush on his face, which he quickly manages to shake off, thanking you.
He tries again, this time hitting the tree, the disc sticking into it.
You make a small, excited noise, happy that he managed to aim it properly and that the disc actually embedded itself. "The glasses will show you where they are, and there will be a dial in the final design that'll allow you to choose which disc your electricity will be targeted towards." You explain. "For now, just check that the disc does attract the electricity."
You step back, putting several meters of space between you and Denki for your own safety.
When he releases his Quirk, it gets targeted to the disc as it was supposed to.
You and Kaminari immediately look at each other, excitement evident on both your faces. Your arms wrap around him, his wrapping around you as you both jump a few times, celebrating.
A moment later, you realise what you're doing and let go, both looking away, a little embarrassed.
"Um, I was wondering, if you would like to go on a date with me sometime?" Kaminari asks, sounding a little shyer than you would have expected from him.
He had been so excited for your date, telling his friends about his plans and how much he likes you. Well, telling the friends that would listen, at least. Bakugo Katsuki had no interest or patience with his stupid friend's adventures in love.
You had spent hours together, significantly longer than you had planned. It was an amazing time, and when curfew was coming around, you didn't want to leave each alone, so he invited you to the Class 1-A dorm for a while, which you agreed to.
You knew it probably wasn't the best idea, but you figured you would need to tell him at some point anyway, and it may as well be early.
Unexpectedly, many of Kaminari's friends were waiting for him, wanting to ask how it went. Even more shockingly, Katsuki was there, apparently either not realising that Kaminari was even gone, or maybe even actually being interested in how his friend's date went.
Seeing the spiky-haired boy sitting on the couch made you stop in your tracks. Even though you thought you might see him, you didn't actually expect it to happen.
Kaminari looks at you, confused, placing his hand gently on the back of your head, playing with your straight blonde hair.
"Are you okay, Y/N?"
As soon as he says that, Katsuki's head snaps up, his signature 'hah?' leaving his lips.
"You? It's you? You went on a date with that idiot?" He asks, standing up and walking towards you.
Everyone else looks confused. "You know each other?" Denki asks you.
You sigh. "Unfortunately, yes."
"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' You should be honoured!" Katsuki almost shouts at you.
You roll your eyes. "Oh, shut up, dumbass!" You shout back.
Kaminari, and everyone else, stares at the two of you as you argue back and forth, confused.
"Are they... related?" Kirishima asks quietly, making Kaminari's eyes go wide as he has a big realisation.
Your similar facial features, your blonde hair, your red eyes... it would make sense.
Deku happens to walk into the communal area on his way to the kitchen as this is happening.
"Midoriya!" Kaminari calls out to him, running over. "Are they related?" He asks, knowing that, having grown up with Bakugo, he'll be the person in the class that'll have an insight into Bakugo's family life.
"Yeah, they're twins." He responds. He smiles a little, looking over at you. "You can really see the similarities when they're with each other can't you?"
"I'll kill you, damn nerd!" Both you and Bakugo shout at him at the same time, making Kaminari chuckle nervously. Deku has no reaction, used to this behaviour.
"Yeah, definitely." Denki says quietly, unsure how to react.
"Katsuki, I'm done here. I'm spending time with Denki right now, I'm not here to argue with you." You say before running over to Denki, grabbing his hand, flashing Izuku a smile, and dragging the blond boy towards the elevator.
Once you're away from everyone, you turn to him and sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't mention that. I don't like people knowing about that straight away. People have opinions of my brother that sometimes get transferred to me when they find out."
He smiles and takes both my hands, squeezing them softly. "Hey, it's okay. I understand."
You look a little surprised by his understanding reaction. "So, you don't mind? You're still interested in me?"
He nods, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you, your hands getting stuck between you and his abdomen. His hand comes up your back, stopping against the back of your head and bringing it softly to rest against his shoulder.
After a moment, he pulls back a little to look at you. "You're really beautiful, you know that?" He whispers softly, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours softly.
Your hands grip onto his shirt, standing on your tiptoes and leaning against him a little, his arms moving to wrap around your waist.
"Get off of my sister, idiot!"
You and Denki startle and quickly break apart when you hear that, looking over at Bakugo, who is still with small explosions going off in his hand.
"You have five seconds to run." He glares at Denki, who yelps and runs. You run over to Bakugo and grab onto his shirt to slow him down, laughing the entire time.
#mha#my hero academia#my hero academia fanficiton#my hero academia fanfic#my hero academia fluff#mha fluff#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#denki kaminari#denki x reader#denki fluff#denki fanfic#denki fanfiction#kaminari x reader#kaminari denki#kaminari fluff#denki kaminari x reader#denki kaminari fluff#bnha#bnha fluff
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The Princess and The Wolf || PART 3 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader
Summary: Geralt returns to see his princess once again. Only this time he is not alone and after a year without communication he does not know if he will still be welcome.
Warnings: slow burn, grumpy x sunshine (or more like grumpy x disney princess lol), miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, me trying to write domestic stuff, mentions of past trauma (for both Ciri and the protagonist/reader), Geralt Ciri and reader being a family, canon typical violence, my attempt at creating an original monster, some very long dialogues (sorry! I hallucinated half of the story and I couldn’t leave any part out apparently), FEM READER (the protagonist is referred to as woman/she-her/princess/sunshine)
Let me know if I missed anything! (I definitely did, I've been writing this part for so long there's probably a lot of stuff I forgot lol so just lmk)
English is not my first language
Word count: 21.800 (I'm not even sorry)
Notes: I’m sorry it took me so long to post this! I promise you I’ve been working on it since the moment I posted the last part but everytime I wrote a scene a new idea came to mind and I just had to add it so here we are. That moment with Ciri wasn’t in my original idea but I just had to include it cause that poor girl needs a hug! Besides, it was a nice way to explore a little bit more about the protagonist background
I have a few ideas for the next part but please send me yours! (SEE THE END OF THE POST FOR MORE)
PART 1 || PART 2
The cat was the first to sense his presence. Even before he knocked on the door or the sound of the horse's footsteps echoed through the hut, the cat was already meowing and pacing back and forth, going from the door to the window and back to the door. He always did that when he felt Geralt was near. He was possibly the only cat on the continent that didn't hiss and hide in the presence of a witcher, quite the opposite in fact. The feline knew he was good and trustworthy because she trusted him, so he ignored all his instincts and gave Geralt a chance. They became friends almost immediately —even though the witcher used to pretend otherwise. The cat loved Geralt as much as his owner, and had missed him almost more than she had.
More than a year had passed. A year without news of him, without a visit or a letter to let her know he was well. A year of uncertainty in which the mind of the poor princess had done nothing but think about what might have happened to him. On good days, she accepted with a broken heart that he was not going to visit her again after the disaster that turned out to be their travel together. It pained her to think that she had missed her chance with him. She felt alone and lost, but that was better than thinking that his absence was because something really bad had happened to him. Dark were the days when she woke up wrapped in sweat, with images of Geralt bloodied fixed in her mind. She had lost count of how many nightmares she had had about it, how many different monsters had been responsible for ending his life and taking away the man who made her happy and gave her purpose. So when that was the alternative, convincing herself that he had simply stopped loving her was more bearable to her poor tormented mind.
“It's not him, darling. He's not coming back here” she spoke to her cat, bending down to stroke his head. The feline meowed, as if to answer her, and jumped up onto the window sill. She let out a tired sigh and pulled back the curtains to open the latch to let the animal out.
It was then that she heard the murmurs and footsteps of a horse in the distance. The cat meowed once more and jumped out of the window, running into the darkness of the night. She followed him with her eyes, looking for him in the shadows to try to find out what it was that had him so agitated. In the distance, moving through the bushes and trees, she recognized the unique white hair of the man who had occupied almost all of her thoughts for the past year. She ran to the door, flinging it open and taking a few steps outside to ensure that her eyes were not deceiving her.
Geralt was there, not looking a day older than the last time she had seen him. She noticed that he didn't look hurt or in bad shape, so she couldn't help but wonder what was the reason for him showing up at her house after such a long time of complete silence. Though her questions were pushed aside when his eyes made contact with hers. All the pain, fear and uncertainty she had accumulated for almost two years dissolved the moment she felt his warm gaze rest on her figure. Her heart began to beat faster than it had in a long time, her stomach, full of butterflies, was twisting and turning because of her nerves.
She realized then that she had no idea how to react to his presence. What was she supposed to say to him? Was she supposed to pretend that she hadn't had the worst year of her life? Was it worth scolding him for his absence when he had finally decided to come back? Happiness and anger began to fight inside her with every step the witcher took towards her. Memories of them being happy were followed by images of the nights she had cried herself to sleep because of him, creating a conflicting narrative that did nothing but confuse her.
“Geralt...” She called his name when he was close enough to hear her. “What are you doing here?” The question sounded more accusatory than she expected, but she didn't have time to take it back —or double down on her complaints— because he stepped aside, revealing the figure of a young girl. It took the woman a moment to focus her gaze on the child since she was almost entirely hidden behind Geralt's broad shoulders. She had long blonde hair and pale skin, though her nose and cheeks were reddened by the cold wind of the approaching winter. In her hands she carried her cat, who purred happily at the gentle caresses she gave him.
The confusion about her own feelings was soon replaced by confusion about the girl and her relationship with Geralt. Her eyes traveled back and forth a couple of times, trying to piece together the reasons behind her presence and the explanation as to why Geralt was traveling with the girl. She couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, so it was hard to imagine that he had decided to travel with her of his own accord. Not after the things he had said to her on their journey together. She thought then that perhaps it was someone he had saved along the way, a young princess he had to rescue from the clutches of a monster or a poor girl who had gotten lost.
Whoever it was, Geralt didn't feel the need to tell her. “We need a safe place to stay.” Was the only explanation he provided her. She didn't insist either, ultimately she didn't need a reason to let him into her home. She stepped aside without a second thought, making room for them to enter and making sure to lock the door behind her back.
“You know, for someone that claims to not have friends you sure do have a lot.” She laughed and Geralt gave her a rather unamused look. “Who's this beautiful young lady?”
The girl looked up at Geralt, wide eyes looking up at him for his approval. The witcher nodded his head, a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible. She only picked up on it because she knew Geralt so well and was already used to that kind of reaction, which told her that the girl knew him very well too. It was as if they communicated without speaking, just a quick glance was enough and they knew exactly what the other was thinking. It was impressive and she hadn't seen anything like it before, especially not with Geralt. It only increased her curiosity even more.
“I'm Cirilla.” The girl introduced herself with a shy smile, lowering the cat from her arms.
It took her a few seconds to understand why that name seemed familiar. When reality hit her, wide eyes flew to Geralt with an expression of confusion and surprise mixed together. He had once told her about the feast Jaskier had dragged him to and the way the event had ended. The last time they had talked about his child of surprise he seemed to want nothing to do with that matter. When she had presented her concerns to him he had told her that he had assured the child's family that he would not claim her. And honestly she had thought it was for the best. With the way Geralt approached life she couldn't imagine him raising a child. That's why she didn't understand why he was now showing up at her house with her. What had made him change his mind?
She managed to compose herself quickly from her surprise, her eyes returning to Cirilla almost immediately so as not to make her feel uncomfortable. “That's a beautiful name, Cirilla!” She complimented her with a smile. “I'm sure you must be cold! I can run you a hot bath and then we can eat something. What do you say?”
“That sounds wonderful, thank you!” Cirilla's eyes lit up at the mention of the bath, desperate to feel the hot water against her cold skin. Since she had met Geralt her situation had improved considerably, but the cold outdoors was still something she was having trouble getting used to.
After leaving Cirilla alone in the bathroom with everything she needed to clean herself and restore her tired muscles, the young woman returned to the table where Geralt was sitting, ready to answer the thousands of questions he knew were swirling around in her head. Some of them —especially the ones about Ciri— were easy to answer, but others... he did not even want to think about it.
“I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with her.” she said, dropping into the chair across from him. “What made you change your mind?”
Geralt hesitated before answering. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that the last few months he had spent running away from her had been the most miserable of his life. That every day he spent away from her was agony. That he woke up hearing her laughter in the wind, missing the warmth of her body, longing to smell the perfume of her hair. He believed it was best for both of them if he stayed away. They could never be together and persisting in that fantasy would only hurt them. He thought he could do it, that he could forget her if he spent enough time away from her charms. He knew it wouldn't be easy and that it would hurt, but he was convinced that it would be the best for both of them in the long run.
However, months passed and the emptiness in his chest only grew heavier with each passing day. Geralt couldn't close his eyes without seeing her smile. He couldn't sleep without dreaming of having her by his side. He couldn't see a deer in the forest or a rabbit hopping around without thinking of her, of how happy he would be in her company, of the way she would take the animal in her hands and make him stop to play with it. His days were gray and dull, cold even under the hottest summer. Without her —without the promise of feeling her hands on his body or the hope of hearing her sweet voice call his name one more time— life lost some of its luster.
He realized then that he could never forget her. She was the woman he loved, the only one who occupied his mind and heart, the only one who could make him seriously question his future as a witcher. She was his destiny, their paths had crossed for a reason that day in the forest. They were bound together by ties stronger than their own will, so there was no point in fighting against it. It was not worth running away from destiny if the only thing he gained was to deepen the emptiness that pressed on his chest. And she was his destiny, as well as Ciri was. He realized that if he wanted to stop feeling so miserable he had to stop fighting against what he could not change and face what destiny wanted from him.
But instead of admitting his feelings and being vulnerable in front of her, Geralt chose the easy answer: “Her kingdom was invaded. All her family was killed. I just couldn't leave her alone after that. She's in danger, she needs my protection.”
“So why bring her here?” She snapped back at him, sounding harsher than intended.
She wasn't upset with his presence, in fact she was glad to know that he still saw her home as a refuge where he was willing to bring Cirilla to make sure she was protected. All she wanted to know was why it had taken him so long to show up. Was he angry with her? Was their relationship broken beyond repair? Had he been preoccupied with his travels? Had he been avoiding her? Did he still love her? Those questions had been eating her up inside all these months. She thought she would never see Geralt again, so she had tried hard not to think about it. But he was there with her now and she needed those answers in order to ease her mind.
“I'm bringing her to Kaer Morhen with me, she'll be safe there. But she was getting tired and cold and since we were close I thought... We will leave in the morning if our stay causes any trouble for you.” Geralt assured her, trying not to cause a disturbance.
He should have figured that he couldn't just reappear in her life and wait for her to welcome him back with open arms. She had every right to throw him out if she wanted to, he had behaved like a complete bastard. But when he decided to seek refuge in her hut, Geralt wasn't thinking of him or her, but of Ciri. But now he understood that maybe he was asking too much of her. He was so used to using her home as a shelter that he didn't consider that the doors might be closed to him one day.
“I don't want you to leave. I want you to tell me why it took you so long to come back. I want you to tell me that there is a good reason for leaving me in the dark all this time, wondering what could have happened to you and if I was ever going to see your face again.”
“Sunshine, I...” Geralt tried to respond, but stopped in mid-sentence. He couldn't find the words to express how he felt, to explain to her how stupid he had been and how sorry he was for his mistake in a way that wouldn't make things worse. He didn't want to hurt her, even though he knew it was a little late for that.
She felt her heart squeeze at the mention of that nickname. She hadn't realized how much she had missed hearing his voice calling her by that name until that moment. It reminded her of the simpler, happier times they had shared, of long nights spent sleepless as they talked about life. It reminded her of how much she loved being called that by him and how her heart had skipped a beat the first time he had used it. She never knew what had prompted him to call her that in the first place —and she'd always been too embarrassed to ask—, but she was glad he had. It made her feel special, loved.
“Forget it.” she said as she noticed the internal conflict reflecting in Geralt's eyes. She didn't know what was making him so hesitant, but she began to think that maybe she didn't want to hear the answer to his question. Maybe it was better to live in ignorance after all. Maybe living on happy memories and moments that would never get back was better than living in harsh reality. All this time she had thought the uncertainty had been the worst, but seeing the doubt in the witcher's yellow eyes made her think that maybe the truth could be worse. She didn't know if she was ready to know that he didn't love her.
“Tell me about Cirilla. You said she is in danger, why?” She sought to change the subject, desperate to find a topic of conversation that would quell those thoughts.
“There's people after her, a black knight that has been following her since the fall of Cintra. She dreams about him every night.” Geralt explained, remembering the way the little girl tossed and turned in her sleep because of the nightmares.
“I can give her something to help with the nightmares so at least she can have one good night of sleep.”
“That's not all... she has magic.”
“Like her mother?” the woman asked curiously. She still remembered the details Geralt had told her about the feast that night where his and Cirilla's destiny had been linked. The magic that the young girl's mother had demonstrated was something she had never even heard of before in her life.
“I don't know what the extent of her power is, she doesn't talk much about it.”
“And you want me to do all the work for you, huh?” She guessed before Geralt could even hint at it. It was a long shot, but if anyone was going to be able to break through the barrier Ciri had created around her to protect herself, it was her. People always tended to open up to her, her sweet and charming nature sparked trust in even the most reclusive and distrustful person.
“You don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just... she's scared, I understand that, but I can't protect her if she doesn't tell me the truth. I thought that perhaps you could get through to her better than I can. You have magic too, maybe she'll be more inclined to talk about it with someone that understands what she's going through.”
“I'll see what I can do.” She promised him, unable to refuse to help a frightened little girl who had lost everything.
The young woman couldn't help but notice the protective way in which Geralt spoke of Ciri. She wasn't sure how long they had known each other, but from the way he cared for her she would say quite a bit. The witcher's trust wasn't easy to gain —it had taken her a while even after saving his life—, but the girl seemed to have done it in record time. It was heartwarming to see the way they acted around each other. She always looked at him before answering some of the questions the young woman asked him during dinner, as if she needed Geralt's confirmation to reveal certain information about her. It was clear that they trusted each other, in a way reminiscent of a father and daughter. Which made Ciri's reluctance to open up to him even stranger.
It was strange to see Geralt in such a position. He always acted so tough, like a lone wolf who didn't need anyone's company. Seeing the way he cared for Ciri —how he urged her to take the sleeping potion she offered her, warning her how important it was for her to get a good night's sleep— was almost jarring. Even in her wildest fantasies she hadn't imagined Geralt being a father. Now that she saw it, though, she liked it. It suited him. She only wished he had given himself the chance to explore that side of him much sooner. She couldn't deny that it pained her to know that she had always been right, the two of them could have worked out if only he had let it happen.
After they had dined and chatted for a long time, she, like the good hostess she was, escorted Ciri to the extra room she had unoccupied, telling her that it would be her space for as long as she wished to stay there. “Any friend of Geralt is a friend of mine. You're welcome to stay for as long as you want.” She smiled sweetly, trying hard to show the girl that she could trust her. Ciri thanked her before she closed the door behind her, making sure she knew she appreciated her hospitality.
When she left the girl's room, she didn't find Geralt anywhere. She didn't worry too much about it, assuming he would be out with Roach or securing the perimeter of the property to make sure Ciri could get a peaceful night of uninterrupted sleep. She let him do his thing, opting to tidy up the house and get ready for bed. She waited for him in bed, one last candle burning as she read a book. She assumed he would come to sleep with her as they had always done. Now that Ciri was occupying the only free room, the other alternative was to sleep on the floor. But time passed, the night grew dark and cold, and Geralt did not come. So she put on a cloak and went outside to look for him.
It didn't take her long to find him, she just circled the property and stumbled upon him in the makeshift stable she had at the side of her garden. He was sitting on a pile of hay, chatting with Roach while stroking the animal's fur. He had his back against the wooden wall and seemed to be settled there, as if he had no intention of moving. When she approached, he fell silent, so she couldn't hear what he was saying to the horse, although she had a good idea.
“What are you doing out here? It's freezing!” She said, crossing her arms under her cloak to keep her body warm. While it hadn't yet snowed for the first time, there was an icy dew in the air that looked a lot like it. And while she understood that Geralt had a higher tolerance for extreme weather thanks to his mutations, that didn't mean she liked the idea of him being cold in the stable when there was a warm bed waiting for him inside.
“It's not that cold.” he replied and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow, not believing for a moment that he truly didn't feel the cold. She had been outside for a couple of minutes and could already feel the cold starting to dig into her bones. “I was taking care of Roach.”
“She seems fine. Come inside before you freeze to death.”
“You know that won't happen.”
“Geralt, please.”
It was a gentle plea, with a hint of desperation. All she wanted was to have Geralt by her side during the night again. She wanted to lie down and find that she felt the same comfort she always had, that his presence made her feel as safe and comforted as she remembered. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrap around her at night and know that the doubts were only in her head and completely unfounded. She wanted to know that he still loved her and that it had all been a big misunderstanding. She was desperate to find a way to move on, to let go of all the pain that had haunted her. But she was terrified to talk about it, so all she had left was that. If Geralt didn't accept her offer then she knew all was lost.
“I don't want to impose...”
“You're not,” she interrupted him before he could blurt out any excuses. “I'm asking you to come inside with me.”
Geralt couldn't refuse that request. Even though things between them were weird, he still couldn't resist her charms. There was something in the way she looked at him, a glint of desperation growing in her eyes, that made it impossible for him to say no to her. It gave him hope. He thought she was angry with him, and she was, but inside her still burned the flame of love they had once shared. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe he could still make things right.
He followed her back into the house, pulling off his wet cloak and muddy boots before entering the room. It looked exactly as he remembered it, not a single object out of place. It was as if time had not passed. The flowers on the window sill were still as colorful and full of life as in the spring, the books stacked in the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed did not seem to have changed their order. The air smelled of her, that intoxicating mixture of floral perfume and wet earth that he had come to miss so much.
However, the reality of the situation hit him as he laid his head on the pillow. There was no goodnight kiss or silly talk before bed. She simply laid down on his side of the bed and settled down with her back to him before blowing out the candle that lit the room. They were only inches apart, but Geralt had never felt so far away from her before. Even when he was miles away, purposely avoiding her, he still felt close to her. How could he not when images of her wouldn't leave his mind? He kept seeing her in his dreams, reliving their happy moments every time he closed his eyes, fantasizing about hearing her laughter and feeling the warmth of her body once more. But now that he had her by his side, he felt nothing but a cold emptiness pressing on his chest.
He wanted to reach out to touch her. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to wrap her in his arms and never let her go again, but he didn't know if he could —or if he should. He understood her hesitation, she had every right to be angry with him after the way he had reacted. He wanted to give her some space, some time so they could get their relationship back on track. He didn't want to pressure her, so he kept his hands to himself even though it hurt. He had to think of her first. He had no right to suddenly come back into her life after he had unilaterally decided to leave her, and demand the same treatment from her as before.
But what Geralt didn't know was that she wasn't avoiding him on purpose. She wanted to run into his arms, curl up on his chest and sleep wrapped in his warmth. But she didn't feel like she was the one who had to make the first move. Her feelings for him had never changed. She had been the one who had tried to make their relationship blossom. She had tried so hard to show him that they could have a future together. Geralt had been the one who had run away without explanation, so he should be the one to make the first move if he wanted to. She didn't want to pressure him, to make him feel like he had to do or say things he didn't want to just to protect her feelings. If he reached out to her, she needed to know that he was doing it because he really wanted to.
That was why his distance hurt her so much. Clearly there was something broken in their relationship and the most heartbreaking thing of it all was that she didn't know what to do to fix it —or even if she could.
The morning brought more pleasant weather conditions with it. The silent tension that haunted Geralt and the princess disappeared almost completely, mainly because they both sought to focus their attention on Ciri to avoid dealing with their own problems. Looking for an excuse that would give her the opportunity to spend more time with the girl, she asked Ciri to accompany her on a walk through the forest to replenish her collection of medicinal herbs. The winter was fast approaching and soon there would be nothing left but the plants she grew stored inside her house. Ciri agreed and Geralt joined them under the guise of hunting their lunch, although he had the decency to keep his distance so that they could get to know each other better.
It was a beautiful morning. Even though the autumn sun was not strong enough to counteract the cold breeze, there was no freezing mist that morning and that was already a reason to celebrate. Besides, Ciri was no longer wearing wet clothes and was well rested and fed, so she felt capable of accomplishing anything. The young woman guided her through the forest, telling her the details of the plants they needed to collect —their appearance, their medicinal uses, the potions and ointments she created. Ciri listened to her intently, fascinated and intrigued with the new information she was being presented with, wondering if she would be able to accomplish something like this someday.
“So you're a mage then?” Ciri asked, looking up at the woman walking beside her smelling a white flower.
“Not exactly.” she replied, earning a look of confusion from the girl. “I have an aptitude for magic, but I wasn't officially trained. I was taught by a healer everything I know, but magic is far more complex than what I know or the things I can do.” She hastened to explain as she knelt down in the dirt to pick up a couple of valerian leaves and put them in her basket.
“Is that how you met Geralt? Through your powers?”
“My abilities did play a part in the story of how we met, yes, but not in the way you're probably thinking.” The princess lost herself in her memories for a moment, images of that day flashing before her eyes. It felt so close and yet so far away at the same time. It was amazing to look back and see how far she had come both as a person, as well as their relationship. “He didn't tell you about us, huh?”
“He said you were an old friend, but didn't answer any of my questions. He's not particularly chatty.” Ciri said with a chuckle and she couldn't help but laugh too. If there was anyone who knew how difficult it could be to get a topic of conversation out of Geralt, it was her. She could almost imagine the girl's effusive curiosity running into the witcher's frustrating monosyllabic responses, just like it used to happen to her.
"Oh trust me, I know."
Geralt could hear them talking, but decided not to intervene. Instead he watched from a distance as they laughed together, feeling happy that they were getting along. Not that he thought it would be difficult, Ciri was a lovely girl and his sunshine was one of the sweetest and nicest people that existed on the continent. But still, it was nice to see them conversing so comfortably. It made him feel a strange warmth inside, a strange feeling unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he liked it, he found it comforting.
“We met after I escaped my home.” The princess began to tell her story, thinking carefully about every word before she said it. It was a great opportunity to build trust with Ciri, to let her know that she could understand her better than anyone else since she had also been a child frightened by her own powers. “You see, a long time ago I was a princess, just like you, trapped in a kingdom that had forbidden magic long before I was even born. I had to learn everything I know in secret, hiding from my parents and my own kingdom. Ruling wasn't my calling, especially in those conditions, so one day I decided to run away.”
Ciri's interest was piqued, her eyes growing wide with curiosity as she listened intently to the story the young woman told her. She told her about the monster that prowled the forests of her kingdom and how she used it to fake her death so she could escape a future she didn't want in a kingdom that didn't appreciate her. She also told her that was the reason Geralt showed up at her town, having been hired to kill the monster and avenge the death of the princess. But instead of encountering a beast, he found the young woman hiding in the forest.
“He could have taken me back to the castle. My parents probably would have paid him more to return their presumed dead daughter and heir to the throne home, but he didn't... he listened to my pleas and had mercy on me. He saved my life... everything I am today, everything I have, I owe to him. Geralt gave me a second chance in life and for that I will be eternally grateful.”
The princess smiled, remembering the details of their first meeting. Geralt had truly saved her life. She had failed to properly prepare for her escape, acting hastily and recklessly after an argument with her father that ended with him yelling at her that she was a disgrace to his family for not wanting to marry a lord who didn't love or respect her and only saw her as a way to gain more power. No matter how well she knew those woods, she could not have gotten very far on her own. And if anyone else had found her, they would have returned her to her parents without a thought, condemning her to a life of misery.
But Geralt had not done so. He had taken pity on her, putting her well-being above gaining greater wealth even when he did not know her. He had given her the opportunity to discover herself in complete freedom, far from the demands and mandates of her parents. Everything she was, was made possible by him. That's why she was always willing to help him, no matter how angry or upset she was with him. She couldn't let go of the hand of the man who had taken hers and pulled her out of the dark pit that was her former life.
“He saved my life too.” Ciri said with a sad smile on her lips. “He's the only family I have left.”
“I'm sorry about that,” the young woman offered a smile, resting her hand on the girl's shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze. “You shouldn't have to go through all that violence and pain, no child should. But you are in good hands with Geralt, he's going to take good care of you. Don't let the big, grumpy frown and the stories about witchers fool you, he is a big softie with a heart of gold.”
They shared a few chuckles and continued on their way, searching for the herbs they had yet to gather. The princess told Ciri about the Celandine plant and its medicinal properties —telling her to keep her eyes open in case she saw a four-petaled yellow flower—, and about the Eyebright plant and how it had cured an eye infection in a girl's eye in the village. She also shared with her some of the stories of her life, how she had practically grown up in the forest and the peace she felt when she was in contact with nature.
Ciri liked to hear those stories, especially when she told her about the difficulties she faced in understanding and learning to control her powers in the beginning. It made her feel less lonely to know that she wasn't the only one who had to go through something like that alone and without much guidance. It gave her hope for her future. Watching as she bent down to heal the broken wing of a bird on the side of the road, Ciri thought that if she had managed to understand and control her powers then there was still hope for her too. Maybe one day she would stop being afraid of her own abilities. Maybe she would come to understand what was wrong with her and the purpose of her powers.
“Why did they prohibit magic in your kingdom?” the girl asked curiously, marveling at the healing capabilities of the runaway princess' powers. It only took a touch of her hands and the utterance of some words she did not understand for the bird to recover, flying from her hands to get lost in the treetops. Ciri could not understand how something as wonderful as that could be seen as a bad thing. Her powers were nothing like hers, so it was hard for her to think that they would be viewed as displeasing to anyone.
“No one really talked about it, and I was always too afraid to ask. But from what I understand, magic ran in the royal family, but it had never brought the kingdom any luck, only chaos and destruction.” she explained returning her attention to Ciri now that the bird had disappeared from her vision. “Apparently it made people too unstable to rule. My great grandmother was the last one to have magic before me and she was the reason it was banned, but no one really talked about it so I don't know exactly why. For the most part everybody just pretended magic didn't exist, especially my parents. I think they knew that I inherited my great grandmother's abilities and they thought that maybe if they didn't mention it might go away. But the only thing they accomplished was to isolate me.”
She paused in her story and Ciri could notice in her eyes the pain those memories caused her. The joyful and sweet expression that graced her face was replaced by a sad and melancholic look. It was only for a second, but her face changed so much that she looked like a completely different person from the one who was standing next to her minutes before. Ciri wondered what kind of horrors she would have had to go through in her old home and if that expression was so different because it belonged to the princess she had left behind.
“When I started showing the first signs of chaos, I didn't know what was going on with me. I was terrified.” She cleared her throat and then her face lit up with its usual sweetness again. “If it wasn't for the new court physician I would have never learned the truth. She was a mage on the run, hiding in the last place she thought they were going to look for her. She noticed the signs immediately and took me under her wing, taught me everything I know... how to control my powers, how to use them in the art of healing, and more importantly, she taught me to not be afraid of them, to not let the fear of others influence me.”
She gave Ciri a small smile, hoping she understood the meaning behind her words. She wanted to be that positive figure in her life, to pass on to Ciri the knowledge and confidence that had been passed on to her in her training. It wasn't much compared to what other mages could teach her, but it was a start. She was willing to be the guide she so desperately needed, if Ciri would let her.
“Were they afraid of you because you were different?” The girl asked, looking at her with wide eyes full of curiosity. It was a question she was asking both the woman beside her and herself. The princess recognized that, so she stopped in her tracks and turned to look Ciri in the eye. It was important for her to hear and understand what she was about to tell her.
“Probably, yes.” she admitted with a sigh. Ciri lowered her gaze and she took a step forward, reaching out to grab her chin and make her look up. “But you have to understand that fear is one of the most common reactions people have to the unknown, to that which they don't understand. It's not personal, they just can't help it. One important thing I learned over time is that reaction is something you can't control, there is nothing you or I can say or do to stop those who don't understand magic from fearing it. But what we can control is our own fear. And it is important not to let the fear of others affect one's perception of oneself.”
“But what if they are right?” Ciri's voice was close to a whisper, almost as if she struggled to utter those words aloud. As if she was afraid to admit what her mind had been repeating to her since the fall of Cintra, fearing that saying it would make it real. “What if magic only brings death and destruction?”
It was clear to the princess that Ciri was referring to her own powers. She didn't need to know her too well —or even know the details of her powers— to understand, she could see it in the tears that had gathered in her eyes. It broke his heart to see the little girl in that state. She was just a child, it wasn't fair that she had such dark thoughts clouding her mind at that young age. Fate had been very cruel to her, taking away her family and home in a single act of terrible violence that she had had to witness without being able to do anything to prevent it. Not only that, but now she had to face her future and the development of her powers with no one to guide her. No child should have to go through something like that. All she wanted to do at that moment was to hug Ciri and tell her that there was nothing wrong with her, to assure her that everything would be alright and that her life would get better. But before she could even utter a word, a strange sound echoed throughout the forest, distracting her attention from the girl.
Her gaze instinctively searched for Geralt, who was already alert. His eyes searched the surroundings as his hand slowly approached the handle of the sword resting on his back. She felt Ciri's hand squeeze hers and returned her gaze to the girl. She was met with her expression of terror, which only got worse as the rumbling of what could only be described as a deafening shriek was heard.
“Geralt!” The woman called his name, hoping he would give some sort of explanation for what was happening.
Though he didn't need to say anything, because at that instant a figure came into view in the distance. It was a monster, but not one like anything she had ever seen or read about. It was large, with multiple legs and eyes, and a long tail that ended in a sharp point. It was like a strange, disgusting mix between a scorpion and a centipede, a large creature that towered tall above them. It stood still for a moment, keeping a relative distance, as if searching for something specific. The princess pushed Ciri behind her, instinctively seeking to protect her. The creature shrieked again and Geralt pulled out his sword.
“Run!” He commanded them before advancing towards the beast with his sword held high.
The princess hesitated for a second, feeling the need to reach out to him to help him, but Ciri tugged on her hand and reminded her that she needed hisprotection. They ran through the forest holding hands, helping each other keep their balance when they stumbled due to their nerves. She tried to keep Ciri safe, positioning herself a few steps behind her to protect her from a possible surprise attack with her own body. From time to time she looked behind, searching the horizon for the figure of Geralt or that monster to know in which direction to flee. But it was difficult to follow the fight when she was also worried about looking after Ciri. She needed some sort of vantage point that would allow her to observe the enemy so she could prepare for its attack.
“Is it gone?” the girl asked in fright as she tried to catch her breath. They had stopped momentarily when they saw that the monster was no longer at their heels. They couldn't hear it screeching either, so they thought maybe Geralt had taken care of it.
“I don't know.” she answered honestly, pushing Ciri against a tree to hide in case he came back. “I don't see Geralt anywhere.”
“Should we go back to look for him?”
“No, that's too dangerous... we need to get to higher ground.”
Before she could say another word, the beast made its presence known again. It came out of nowhere, screeching and moaning, no doubt hurt by the witcher. But in spite of that, it rushed towards the direction of the two princesses with the same voracious determination. Ciri screamed and grabbed the hand of the woman at her side to start running once more, but she stayed in place.
There was no sign of Geralt anywhere and given the amount of legs that beast had, it was clear that they couldn't outrun it. Ciri wouldn't be able to escape from there without someone to give her a head start.
“Run north, up the hill and hide there. Don't look back!” she ordered and the girl looked at her with confusion.
“What about you?”
“I'll come look for you, but I need to buy you some time to run.” She explained quickly, keeping her eyes on the beast that was getting closer and closer to them. “Go, Ciri! Now!”
The girl hesitated, finding the scene all too familiar. The number of times she had had to leave someone behind to save her life was more than she would like. It never ended well and she felt responsible for all the lives that had been sacrificed to get her there. She hoped Geralt's friend wouldn't join the list, she didn't know if she could tolerate one more death on her conscience.
As soon as Ciri started to run, she concentrated on attacking the monster that was chasing them. She moved out of the girl's way, seeking to draw the beast's attention to her to distract it. But to her surprise, it didn't seem to care. It continued on its way in the direction of Ciri as if she were not in that forest. And if it wasn't because she invoked the sign of Aard the beast probably wouldn't have bothered to attack her. It was clear that its target was Ciri, although she could not understand the reason.
She used what little knowledge she had of magic outside of healing to attack the monster. She relied on the Quen sign to protect herself when the beast came too close, just as Geralt had taught her. And she summoned Aard's power to throw the beast away from her, slamming it into every tree and rock she could find in hopes the impact would stun it and give her a chance to escape. She put up a good fight, but it was clear that she couldn't beat him with her limited skills.
Luckily, she didn't have to. Geralt appeared just in time to save her, crossing his sword with the beast's pointed tail before it could hurt her. They shared a simple, quick glance, but that was enough for them to communicate. Geralt's eyes assured her that he would take care of the beast and asked her to protect Ciri. She nodded to him, letting him know that the girl's safety was her priority before running after her.
It didn't take her long to find Ciri, she knew that forest like the back of her hand. She was hiding in the bushes, ready to attack anything that came near her. The girl almost hit her in the stomach with a log when she approached her hiding place, fearing it was an attacker coming to hurt her. She stopped just in time though, wide eyes looking at the woman in front of her with surprise. She hadn't expected to see her there —not after learning the fate of all those who had stayed behind to give her a chance to escape danger—, but she was glad she was all right. Ciri felt safer with her by her side.
“Where is Geralt?” asked Ciri worriedly, looking behind the woman's back for her protector's white mane.
“He's fine.” she assured her, approaching the edge of the hill to look down for movement that would indicate Geralt's whereabouts. But she saw nothing. Nor did she hear the shrieks of the beast pursuing them. All was quiet, almost too quiet. It gave her a bad feeling. “Come on, we have to keep moving.” She indicated to Ciri, taking her by the hand once more.
But before they could get more than a couple of steps away, the monster reached them, cornering them against some rocks and the ledge. It was so sudden, that the princess could do nothing more than create a protective energy field, enveloping her and Ciri's figure in a semi-transparent whitish bubble that kept the beast away from them. She pushed the girl behind her and told her to prepare to run when she gave the signal. Ciri protested, refusing to let her face the beast alone, but she assured her that she would be fine. The truth was that she didn't know, but she had no choice but to stand between the monster and the girl it so desperately sought to attack. She was going to fight to her last breath to protect it because it was the right thing to do —and because it was what Geralt expected of her.
However, her countdown only reached two before a sword pierced the beast's body. It let out a shriek of pain and tried to lunge at its attacker, but Geralt plunged his sword even deeper, giving it one last thrust before withdrawing it to let the creature bleed out. The beast collapsed to the ground, spreading a viscous dark green liquid oozing from its mortal wound onto the earth. It writhed a couple of times until it stopped moving, signaling that life had left its body.
The princess let out a sigh of relief, breaking the energy field now that it was safe for Ciri. The relief didn't last long, however, because Geralt collapsed next to the beast, dropping his sword with a loud clang. She and Ciri ran to him, calling his name with concern. He was still conscious when they knelt beside him, though he looked weak.
“Let me see.” she asked when she noticed Geralt squeezing his thigh with one hand. He moved it, allowing her to inspect the wound closely.
There was a tear in his pants and beneath it the skin of the witcher's thigh was swollen and reddened. There was a puncture wound that leaked drops of blood mixed with a thick black liquid. Making a closer inspection, she noticed the small black lines branching out, veins standing out on his skin as they slowly began the work of spreading the poison through his system.
“Fuck!” she muttered under her breath as she tore a piece of the skirt from her dress.
“What?” Ciri asked worriedly, watching as she tied the piece of cloth around Geralt's thigh, just above his wound, and tied a tight knot that caused the witcher to groan in pain. “What is it?”
“Poison.” she replied simply, picking up Geralt's sword from the ground and using it to cut the stinger from the tail of the monster lying lifelessly beside him. Then, she removed her cloak and used it to wrap the tail in it, making sure it was safe to carry without coming into contact with the poison the stinger held. If this was a new monster —or at least, one she didn't know about— she was sure that having the direct source of the poison would be of vital importance to save Geralt's life.
“We need to get him back home. Now.”
Luckily, Geralt was still lucid enough to walk. The slow beating of his heart and the tourniquet she had improvised with part of her dress helped keep the poison from spreading through his body quickly, but it still needed to be treated urgently. Ciri helped her carry him, each of them putting one of Geralt's arms around their shoulders and holding him tightly to help him move with more ease and speed. They were not far from the hut, but it was not easy to travel with Geralt in that state, so it took them longer than usual to get there.
Once home, the princess settled Geralt on the bed, just as she had done so many times in the past, before running to get her potions and ointments to treat the wound. Ciri sat beside him on the bed, looking at her protector with concern as he mumbled in pain. She noticed that the wound on his leg was getting worse with each passing second and for a moment she was afraid that something bad was going to happen to him. She couldn't lose him, not after going through so much to find him. Geralt was the only thing she had left, her only hope, she couldn't lose him.
“Ciri, could you help him drink this?” The woman asked, handing her a small glass vial with a yellowish green liquid inside. The girl was grateful to have been entrusted with a task, something she could do that would help her feel her presence was useful. “It will help his body battle the effects of the poison.”
Ciri took the bottle with one hand and Geralt's head with the other, lifting him slightly off the bed so he could drink the potion. While she brought the bottle to his lips, the princess tended to the wound on his leg. First she carefully washed it, using warm water and a clean cloth to remove the blood and drops of poison that remained on the skin. Then, she spread an ointment of her own creation on the wound while uttering an incantation in the ancient tongue.
She concentrated all her energy on him, repeating the incantation with increasing strength and conviction. She was treating it as she would any wound infected with poison, but the reality was that she didn't know if that would work. The creature that had attacked him was new to her, so she didn't know if its poison would respond to conventional treatments. So she devoted all her energy to him in the hope that it would be enough to save him. And while arranging some herbs on the wound before bandaging it, she prayed to the gods that her beloved would wake up.
Geralt heard her sweet voice in the distance, and felt the warmth of her fingers brushing the skin of his leg. He tried to let himself be carried away by the warm energy that she transmitted to him, to drown the pain he felt in the peace that her voice awakened in him. He tried to concentrate on her so as not to faint, clinging to the scent of her skin and the melody in her voice as if his life depended on it. But even his stubbornness and unwavering willpower were not enough to combat the effects of the poison. And though he fought against it, eventually his eyes closed and everything went black.
The last thing he heard before he slipped into unconsciousness was the sweet voice of his sunshine telling him, “rest.”
Ciri did not move from Geralt's side. She insisted on taking care of him and controlling how his condition was progressing while the princess investigated the stinger she had extracted from the beast. She began by extracting some of the venom that was still inside it, being very careful not to let it come into contact with her skin while she transferred it to a glass vial. She did some tests with it, studying how it reacted when in contact with different herbs and medicinal plants, as well as some of the potions she had in her catalog. None of the results she got were what she expected, so she began to worry. Maybe this thing was different after all. Maybe she couldn't save him this time.
“I think something is wrong!” Ciri suddenly exclaimed, breaking her concentration. The princess didn't ask her any more follow-up questions, she simply followed her into the room and approached Geralt to examine him.
He was definitely not looking like he should. He had been resting for a few hours, yet his physical appearance had worsened. He looked paler than usual and his breathing was irregular. A thin layer of sweat adorned his skin, and when she reached up to touch his forehead she discovered that it was hot.
“This is wrong.” she muttered to herself, undoing the bandage so she could examine the progress of the wound on his leg.
“What's wrong? What's going on?” Ciri questioned the woman, desperate to hear her professional opinion.
Lifting the bandage, she discovered that the wound had only worsened. The skin was swollen and hot to the touch, and the black veins stood out even more against the pale skin, extending until they were lost under the tourniquet that was still tight around the witcher's leg. “He's getting worse...” she murmured, concern and confusion mingling in her voice. “He's not responding to the treatment.”
“There must be something we can do!” Ciri insisted and the woman looked at her, not knowing what to say. She didn't know of any other ways to treat a wound as such, at least not ways that weren't pure legends. She could always research and try some alternative method, but she wasn't sure she had enough time for that.
“Kaer... Morhen...” Geralt stammered weakly, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Vesemir will know what to do.”
She just gave Ciri a look and the girl ran off to the stable to prepare the horses for the journey. She stayed behind with Geralt, grabbing a couple of her remedies and the beast's tail before carrying the witcher on her shoulder once more, dragging him with some difficulty to the door. When Roach saw the state his owner was in, she lay down on the ground to allow him to climb onto her back more easily. She gave the mare a few gentle pats and kind compliments before helping Ciri mount Brego, the horse she had personally raised after finding him badly injured and forgotten on a road. Once the girl was safe and settled, she mounted Roach behind Geralt, wrapping her arms around him to hold him in place as she took the reins and they set off.
She didn't know the exact road to Kaer Morhen, only that it was south of where she lived. She had a few clues that gave her more details from the stories Geralt had told her about his life, but that was all. She had never asked him much about it, she knew that after being attacked the witchers kept to themselves and she didn't want to pressure him to reveal those details. She thought that maybe, if someday he felt comfortable enough with her to tell her about his home, he would. But now she was regretting not being more nosy.
Geralt was going in and out of consciousness, so while he could give directions from time to time, he was not the most reliable source. Ciri also didn't know the way since she had never been there before. However, Roach was a very smart horse who had traveled those roads many times in the past. So when they came to a crossroads, the mare advanced along the left-hand path with confidence. And before they knew it, they had reached Kaer Morhen.
“We need help!” she shouted and a middle-aged, white-haired man ran to meet her, startled by the commotion. His eyes fell on Geralt and she noticed the concern in them as he reached out a hand to touch the witcher's forehead.
“What happened?”
“He was attacked by a creature. He's been poisoned and I don't know how to stop it from spreading.”
“Get him inside!” At his command, a group of men grabbed Geralt and carried him inside. The young woman grabbed Ciri, holding the girl against her body so as not to lose her as she very timidly followed the others.
Both she and Ciri refused to leave Geralt, so Vesemir —the name given to them by the man who received them— had to work under the watchful eye of the two. He asked them about the attack and the young healer explained as best she could the details of the beast that had chased them. She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified to discover that an experienced witcher like Vesemir didn't seem to know what kind of creature she was describing.
“This may help.” She said, pulling the beast's tail covered in an old cloth from her bag. “I tested the poison against every plant and healing element I know of and nothing seems to work.”
“That's not the only problem.” the man said, gesturing for her to come closer. “You see this inflammation here? It's full of the creature's venom.” Vesemir lightly pressed the lump on Geralt's skin and a couple of black drops escaped from the puncture wound. “The venom is lodging there for some reason, spreading slowly to maximize the damage. No treatment is going to work until we extract it.”
“How can I help?”
“Hold him still.”
Vesemir rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a leather bag containing a couple of syringes, needles and other useful artifacts for healing a witcher's wounds. He took the middle syringe, with a relatively long needle, disinfected it and then rested his gaze on the young woman in a silent way of telling her to get ready. She nodded slightly, tightening her grip on Geralt's leg to make sure he didn't move it. Vesemir then inserted the needle into the wound very carefully. It was important that he didn't accidentally burst the bubble of poison that had been created under the skin or it might end up spreading faster.
Geralt mumbled in pain and his body twisted as Vesemir began to extract the poison, but the young woman kept a firm grip on him. And when that wasn't enough to keep him still, she resorted to talking to him, just as she always did when he showed up injured on her doorstep. She murmured sweet words of encouragement and her soft voice seemed to be enough to bring peace to the witcher. His body stopped writhing and his rapid breathing gradually calmed down.
When Vesemir finished extracting the poison, the young woman watched in horror as the dark liquid almost filled the syringe. She wondered how that beast had been able to inject so much poison in such a short time and worried about Geralt's condition. How much poison had made it through his system? She liked to think not too much since he was still breathing, but the amount of viscous liquid trapped in the syringe worried her. Vesemir didn't seem particularly worried, but she wasn't sure she could read the expert witcher's emotions as easily as she could read Geralt's.
She watched him rummage through a cabinet full of elixirs until he came across a dark-colored one. He ripped off the cap with his teeth and poured some of the contents on the wound on Geralt's leg, who groaned in pain but did not open his eyes. Then he passed the bottle to her.
“Make him drink this.” Vesemir instructed him before disappearing out the door.
The young woman was assisted by Ciri in the task. The little girl helped her hold Geralt's head high enough so that he would not choke on the liquid while she parted his lips and placed the spout of the bottle between them. The witcher coughed a little as the liquid touched his throat, but it was only for a moment.
“It's alright, you're alright... everything is going to be fine.” She murmured words of encouragement as she emptied the elixir down his throat, though she wasn't entirely sure to whom she was directing such phrases, Geralt or herself.
When Vesemir returned, two other witchers accompanied him. At the man's request, they took Geralt and led him to his quarters to rest.
“Is he going to be alright?” a very worried Ciri asked as she watched the weak and fainting body of her only protector being carried away.
“Only time will tell. The next few hours are critical, if he makes it through the night I'm sure he'll make a full recovery.” Vesemir was honest, perhaps a little bit more than he should have been with a girl like Ciri. He was already busy analyzing the extracted poison and the tail of the beast that had attacked and almost ended the life of one of the best witchers left on the continent, so he didn't realize the impact of his words on her until he turned and met the expression of fear and worry on the girl's face.
“Geralt is strong, he's not going down without a fight. I've seen him pull through worse things.” He tried to reassure her. “You are invited to stay here, if you are friends of Geralt you are always welcome. Although I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany you, I have to study this thing in case Geralt's condition gets worse.”
“I can stay with him.” The young woman offered. “Keep an eye on him and call you if anything feels off.”
“Sure, that will be of much help. Thank you. Just ask one of the boys to guide you to Geralt's chambers.”
The young healer was very interested in learning about the elixirs and other things Vesemir had in that room. Some things she could recognize, some she had an idea of what they were and some were completely new. She was a curious person, especially when it came to her area of expertise, so she had a million questions to ask Vesemir. She would have loved to stay and see what tests he conducted on the poison and what things he looked for in the animal's severed tail. But her priority now was Geralt. She needed to know that he was okay and she wouldn't rest until she saw him open his eyes again. So she took Ciri's hand and headed for the door, but not before thanking Vesemir for the hospitality.
At first Geralt thought he was dreaming. His eyelids felt heavy and he was disoriented. The world around him was a blur and he could hear a ringing in his ears. He couldn't remember where he was or how he had gotten there, and the harder he tried to recall any images of the last few hours, the more difficult it became. It was like trying to remember a dream, the blurred and confused images escaping from his mind as he struggled to capture them. Yet somehow, in the midst of the chaos that was his mind at that moment, he found her. She was lying next to him, curled in on herself in the small space on the bed that he did not occupy. Her beautiful, delicate face was partially covered by her hair, but he didn't need to see it to know she was asleep. He found her before anything else, a beacon of clarity in the midst of the darkness clouding his mind. Only then, his mind decided to cooperate, recognizing images and patterns around him that helped make sense of where he was.
And yet, Geralt remained focused on her. If the dizziness didn't make him feel like in a dream, seeing her like that, so relaxed and peaceful next to him, definitely did. It was a scene that almost didn't seem real after a long year of distance and yearning. It was a sight he hadn't had in a year, her curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully next to the warmth of his body. There was no weird tension in the air or unspoken discomfort like that other night. She genuinely looked comfortable and calm next to him and Geralt couldn't help but smile.
But beyond that, her figure sleeping next to him was a beautiful sight he had never had the pleasure of having in his own home. Their encounters always occurred outside, in the maelstrom of the real world or in the calm of her hut in the forest, but never in his home. Geralt had awakened many mornings with the young woman in his arms, but none had been in his own bed, covered by his own blankets, hidden in the safety of his own room. He discovered then that he liked the feeling of sharing that space with her. It made everything he felt for her feel more real. It made his longing to stay by her side seem more feasible. She was there with him, caring for him and keeping him company, and the world seemed right again.
Geralt tried to sit up in order to better admire her beauty, but instantly regretted it when he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He let out a low grunt, bringing his hand to the bandage wrapped around his thigh with a grimace of confusion. Then flashes of the last few hours overwhelmed his mind. He remembered fighting the monster that chased them in the forest. He remembered the sharp sting of its tail and the burn of its venom. He remembered Ciri's worried look and reaching Kaer Morhen. But most of all, he remembered the gentle touch of his healer on his fevered skin and the sweet sound of her voice lulling him to peace as she always did. Her voice echoed in his mind and the mere memory seemed to be enough to silence the ringing in his ears and ease the pain in his weak and tired body. That didn't surprise him, though. Geralt had long since ceased to be amazed by the effect she had on him. He had learned to accept it, just as he accepted the day turning to night or the winter turning to spring. She was his light, a warm sun on the first day of the equinox that lengthened the day and melted the ice to allow the fields to bloom. She was his sunshine and he realized now that he had spent the last year living in an eternal winter to which he never wished to return.
The movement of the bed beside him brought Geralt out of his thoughts. He leaned over just in time to see his princess open her eyes as she stretched slightly. He could admire the confusion in her expression for a few brief seconds as her sleep clouded mind struggled to figure out where she was. Then her eyes opened wide and her gaze fell upon him. He was glad to see a glint of joy in them at finding him awake and had to bite the inside of his lip to hold back the smile as he saw her jump up in bed.
“Geralt! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” She questioned him with a strange mixture of excitement and concern in her voice.
“As if I had died and was brought back.” He replied with his classic dry humor, though it wasn't that far from the truth. His injured leg still ached when he moved it and his muscles felt tired as if he had spent all night battling a striga.
“You're not that far off.” She shrugged, rising from the bed to pour him a glass of water. Geralt accepted it gladly, drinking the contents in a couple of long sips. Boy was he thirsty!
“How long was I out?”
“Considering you've been in and out of consciousness since the attack, I'd say almost two days.” Geralt was surprised by that answer. In his mind it had only been a couple of hours, but apparently he remembered less than he thought.
Then, Ciri's worried face presented itself in his mind. “Ciri!” He exclaimed, jerking upright. He regretted moving once more, though, when the pain forced him to let out a grunt.
“She's alright!” The young woman hastened to say as she helped Geralt sit up. She took the pillows and stacked them carefully against his back, giving him a softer surface to lean on. Then she helped him recline on them, taking advantage of the moment of proximity to run her hand over his forehead and check for fever. “She's sleeping in the room next door.” She explained as she arranged the blankets so he wouldn't be cold. She knew he had grown up there and was probably used to the cold temperatures, but boy was the witchers' lair cold! “That girl refused to leave your side! I had to fight her to get her to go to sleep. She wanted to be here when you woke up, but I didn't want her here in case...” she trailed off. In case he didn't wake up was what she was going to say, but she couldn't bring herself to utter those words. Although she didn't have to, Geralt knew it when he noticed the sudden sadness that flashed across her face. “Anyway, I had to promise her that she would be the first one I would look for when you woke up to get her to go to sleep. And even then she stayed for another hour here.”
Geralt laughed, that sounded like Ciri. “Thank you... for keeping her safe.”
A silence formed as she took it upon herself to check his vitals. His breathing seemed normal, the same with his pulse —well, normal for a witcher. He no longer had a fever and when she uncovered the wound on his leg she noticed that the skin around it was in better condition. There were no more black lines or reddened areas. It was still somewhat swollen, but the skin was no longer warm to the touch, which was a good sign. Geralt enjoyed feeling her hands on his body, traveling from his forehead to his cheeks and gently brushing the skin of his leg. He swore the warmth of her fingers was all he needed to make the pain in his body go away. He felt a little more alive with every caress, every accidental touch. The magic of her touch slowly melted the hard layer of ice that had formed around him after a long year of harsh winter, but this time Geralt didn't fight it. He wanted her to do it, he wanted her light to finally allow spring to come. He was done running away from her.
“I'm sorry,” she said in a soft, almost inaudible voice as she changed the bandage on his leg. “I should have done more to help you... I just... I didn't know what to do.”
It took Geralt a few seconds to understand what she was saying, not because of the low volume of her voice, but because he found it incredible to hear the guilt in her words. “You saved me.” He pointed out as if it were obvious and she let out a snort.
“You almost died because of me!”
“I almost died because I was too slow and I got attacked by an unknown creature. I didn't expect you to know what to do, even I wouldn't have known what to do. But you brought me here in time and you keep Ciri safe, that's all that matters.”
The young woman smiled, not as big of a smile as Geralt had hoped, but enough to know that his words did have some sort of effect in easing the guilt that for some reason he didn't understand, she felt for what had happened. “That's nice of you to say.”
“It's the truth.”
“Whatever,” she said as she put away her leather case of ointments and healing potions. When she sat back down on the bed, Geralt noticed she had a nervous look on her face. “I would like to stay here with you and help you get back on your feet. I feel like I owe you that. It wouldn't be for too long, I mean, you had a great recovery so far and I'm sure you'll be alright, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you before I know for sure that you're okay... I know this place is... special, I guess, and that you don't let many outsiders in... and I wouldn't want to intrude, but I just couldn't leave without making sure you're okay.”
Geralt found her nervous rambling adorable. He would like to say that the feeling she felt was unfounded, but after how he had treated her he understood why she would be uncomfortable talking about such a thing. The last time she had made an effort to bring their worlds together he had rejected her. And not only that, but he had completely disappeared from her life for a year. He completely understood her nervousness and felt terrible knowing it was his fault.
“I want you to stay.”
Those simple five words were enough to arouse a sense of joy she had not felt in a long time. Those were the words she had waited all this time to hear, the confirmation that Geralt was willing to share some of his world with her after all. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel somewhat special. She knew that not many people had the privilege of walking through the gates of Kaer Morhen not having been raised there and she felt honored to be one of those few. A small smile tugged at her lips and Geralt knew then that his words had had the desired effect.
“Besides, I think your presence can be a good influence on Ciri. You can help me guide her on the right path and keep her safe.”
“I'll try my best, but I don't know as much about magic as other mages.”
“That's not the only thing you can teach her.”
Geralt knew very well that she had not been professionally trained. She had never gone to Arethusa to have her talents molded and sharpened, but that wasn't important to him. Geralt valued her for more than her magical abilities, he always had. For him one of her best traits was her personality, her way of facing the world with courage and optimism. She was one of the strongest people he knew, and he wasn't sure she knew it. Ciri needed someone like her, someone who could guide her through the dark shadow of tragedy and loss that clouded her path to reach the side of light. He could give her the tools to defend herself and face her fears, but she could teach Ciri to see the world from another perspective, a more positive and joyful one, something she desperately needed.
“I think it will do her good to have someone like you around.” Geralt smiled, his hand reaching for hers on the blanket. He felt the energy coursing through his body as they touched, her warmth melting the ice around his heart. The atmosphere in the room changed, suddenly more intimate and special. He wanted to tell her that her company was good for him too, but regretted it at the last moment. He didn't want to overwhelm her or sweet-talk her into forgiving him. If she decided to stay by his side, he wanted it to be her own decision.
The moment was cut short when the bedroom door opened, revealing a freshly awakened Ciri. The girl's eyes lit up with joy as they met the figure of a very lucid Geralt sitting up in bed. She uttered his name in an exclamation of surprise and crossed the room in a matter of seconds to throw herself into his arms.
“Careful!” the young woman warned her, “He's still hurt.”
“You were supposed to call me!” Ciri ignored her, choosing to scold her for not waking her up.
“I was just about to come get you.” She laughed, stepping aside so the girl could sit next to Geralt on the bed. “But since you're here, I'll go let Vesemir know Geralt's awake so he can come take a look at him.”
Contrary to popular belief, witchers were capable of feeling human emotions. That was something the young woman already knew, although living in Kaer Morhen surrounded by the last remaining witchers on the continent allowed her to appreciate the degree of emotions they felt. They were a strong brotherhood and cared deeply for each other, as evidenced by the tree of the fallen, as she called it. A place where the medallions of all the witchers who had perished hung, with more being added with each passing winter. But besides that, she learned that they were quite a fun group. Perhaps it was because they were in the safety of their home, resting after long months of hard work, but their attitudes were not at all what she expected. They kept telling jokes and playing tricks on each other, admittedly rather ordinary for her taste in some cases, but they didn't fail to make her laugh.
They were respectful to her —she suspected Geralt had something to do with that—, but still made her feel welcome in their home. She found it interesting to be surrounded by the most intimidating and roughest looking men on the continent and feel as safe as she did in her own home. She was sure that if her first encounter with many of them had occurred outside the walls of Kaer Morhen, her opinion would be different. Just as when she first met Geralt, it was very likely that the imposing figure of the witchers would have intimidated her and it would have taken her a long time to discover that they were actually very nice people. Lambert and Coen were her favorites, their constant bickering always amused her greatly. Although sometimes she had to confront them to make them be nicer to poor Ciri. They were training her along with Geralt just as Vesemir had trained them and it was the woman's job to remind them that she was just a child.
Vesemir was very good to her as well. Not only had he not complained when Geralt announced that she would be staying with them, but he agreed to indulge her curiosity. He let her watch him work on the analysis of the tail of the monster that had attacked them, even asking for her assistance in some things. They did not reach any satisfactory conclusions, but it was interesting to participate in the process. She learned a lot about the witchers and their creation from Vesemir, as well as the elixirs that helped them on the battlefield. He was a very wise man, and she was honored that he trusted her with his knowledge.
However, her favorite thing was seeing Geralt so relaxed and free, laughing with his siblings and acting like a father to Ciri. It was a side of him she didn't know. Of course he laughed and had fun with her when they spent time together in her hut, but that was different. Their encounters were always filled with this... tension in the air, tainted with unspoken feelings and silent longings. It was a constant countdown, the black cloud of reality always near no matter how hard they both tried to ignore it. From the moment Geralt walked through the door of her home, she knew that the clock had started ticking and that the happiness that was invading her at that moment would come to an end sooner or later. But there was no such thing in Kaer Morhen. There was no rush and no time, so Geralt could relax and be himself. And thanks to that she had discovered a much more... playful and joyful side of him. And she loved it.
What she also loved was the nickname that others had for him. The first time someone had called him wolf, she thought she had heard wrong. They were eating at a table all together and the shouting made it hard to even hear Ciri sitting next to her. But the next time it happened there was no noise to block her hearing. She and Geralt were in the kitchen since this time it was his turn to prepare dinner. He had gone hunting in the morning and now he was in charge of skinning the animal for her to cook. She didn't pay much attention to the conversation Geralt had with Vesemir when he appeared in the kitchen, focused on cutting the vegetables for the stew without hurting her fingers. But her ears pricked up when she heard him utter that nickname.
Wolf
The word echoed in her mind for a while, drowning out whatever was going on around her as she cooked. It was a fitting nickname for Geralt now that she thought about it. Everything about him screamed wolf, both externally and internally. Beyond his imposing presence, great hunting skills and impressive agility, he often hid behind a cold and hostile appearance. When he entered a room he could evoke the same fear and respect in people who did not know him that a wild wolf evoked in a traveler who stumbled upon it unexpectedly on his journey. The witchers had a certain reputation among the common people, built on myths and lies long spread across the continent. And while they were not true, Geralt found them convenient. It was easier to travel the world when people feared him —at least, most of the time. But that cold attitude was a sham, a shield protecting who he really was. He liked to present himself as a lone wolf who didn't need anyone, but in reality he cared about people, especially those closest to him. And just like a wolf protecting his pack, Geralt was willing to do anything to care for those he loved the most. Sometimes she thought that was exactly why he decided to stay away from people. He cared too much and that could be terrifying, not only because of the state of vulnerability it left him in, but also because of the degree of atrocities he would be willing to commit to protect his own.
“Wolf, huh?” She muttered as Vesemir left. She discovered she liked the nickname even more as she uttered it aloud. It was sweet and it felt good to finally have something to fight back with when he called her sunshine. “I like it,” she smiled, ”It suits you.”
“How so?” Geralt arched an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a rag before taking a few steps towards her. The woman pushed aside the knife she held in her hands, looking up to stare at the witcher.
“Well, you're imposing and agile as one... you're incredibly observant and great at hunting... and you're willing to fight tooth and nail to protect your own.” She spoke thoughtfully, listing characteristics as they came to mind. Geralt admired her with a slight grimace of amusement, thinking how much he missed having those kinds of conversations with her. “You're like a big scary white wolf who acts all tough but that's all for show, lots of bark and little bite.”
Geralt let out a snort. “It is?” he inquired and she nodded, even though she knew it wasn't technically true. He was quite capable of actually following through on his threats when he made them, but it was much more fun for her to tease him about his soft side.
“Yes! I mean, it took me a couple of weeks to earn your trust and then you were rolling over and showing me your belly like a dog asking for pets.”
Geralt let out a sarcastic laugh, but the truth was he couldn't quite say anything to contradict her. He wished he could wipe the smug smile off her face, but she was right, he had taken a liking to her rather quickly. And worst of all, it had happened without him noticing until it was too late. He became accustomed to her company — to wake up to the sound of her voice and listen to the sweet melody of her laughter— to such an extent that when she was gone the world felt wrong. He could not pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with her, one day she was a frightened girl asking for his help in the forest and the next she was the ray of sunshine that brightened his days. Just like that, without warning, she had made a place in his heart that she refused to give up no matter how hard he tried to push her away.
“But it's okay, I like that duality.” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You're my big, scary, but surprisingly gentle white wolf.”
The young woman smiled tenderly as she used her fingers to push a lock of hair away from Geralt's face. It was an unconscious thing, a movement engraved in the memory of her muscles after having done it so many times in their long nights of conversations. When she realized it, she felt the urge to move her hand away, embarrassed by her audacity. Their relationship was in a very gray area, things were not clear at all. She was no longer angry with him, but things between them had not yet returned to normal, so the intimate gesture seemed out of place.
Or at least that's what she thought until she saw the way Geralt leaned over her hand. It was probably an unconscious movement as well, but she used the moment to test the waters. She let her fingers trail along his temple, slowly making their way down to his cheek. She did not dare to look him in the eye, so she focused her gaze on the movement of her hand, admiring the marks and scars that adorned the witcher's skin. She noticed that there were a couple that were new and couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind them. What kind of adventures had he had while he was distanced from her? What monster could have caused those injuries? How had he healed them? Had it been him or maybe it was someone else's work? Had someone else taken her place in the time that had passed?
She didn't like where her thoughts were going, so she covered the marks with her fingers, cradling Geralt's cheek. Then she mustered up the courage and looked up, curious as to what might be going through his mind at that moment. She found the witcher's golden eyes were fixed on her, admiring her with longing and, dare she say it, love. There was a warmth in his gaze that drew her to him. It made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt since the moment he left. He was the only one who could make her feel that way, so safe, so desired... so loved. And he was the only one she wanted to look at her that way.
She didn't realize how much closer she had gotten to Geralt until she felt his nose brush against hers. His warm breath mingled with hers as it escaped her half-open lips, caressing them with the promise of that long-awaited kiss that never came. She wanted to move, to close the little distance that separated them and finally discover what it would feel like to kiss him, but it was impossible for her to do so. She was trapped under Geralt's intense gaze. Like a moth to the flame, she was lost in the golden glow of his eyes, waiting expectantly for his next move.
But the kiss never came. Only this time it wasn't because she backed down or because he regretted it at the last second as had happened in the past. This time it was Ciri's interruption that broke the moment and forced them apart.
“Lambert sent me to help you because he says you're taking too long so- OH! Sorry, sorry!” The girl blushed upon finding them in such a compromising position. She instinctively backed away, ready to run out the same way she had come, but the woman stopped her.
“It’s fine, Ciri! Stay, please. I’m definitely going to need some help cooking enough food to satisfy those gluttons out there.”
“Come on, focus! I know you can do it.” The woman tried to encourage the girl, who was having trouble generating any kind of magical reaction from the moment they had started the lesson.
She didn't know much about magic outside of healing, so that was her starting point. From what Geralt had told her about Ciri, the girl had much more power than she did, so she figured that teaching her to channel her magic in one aspect gave her enough tools to begin to control other aspects of her powers. She began with easy lessons, remembering the things her mentor had taught her when they were just starting out. She had previously told her about the potions she made and the type of plants she needed for each as a way of easing her way into things. But several lessons ago she had moved on to more complicated things that involved more active use of her powers.
They were sitting in the common room, near the fire. It was a cold day, though that hadn't stopped Ciri from going out to train with her wooden sword. Geralt was the one who had to drag her inside to meet the healer for her magic lessons, and she didn't seem very enthusiastic about it. For that very reason she had given the girl a relatively simple exercise, the same one they had been practicing for two lessons. In a pot was a dried plant. Its stems were still green in some places, but much duller, and the leaves were withering more and more with each passing day. The goal they were working towards was to revive the plant, although she would settle for any kind of progress. The woman remembered that the same exercise had taken her quite some time, so she showed patience to Ciri. But on the other hand, the girl was supposed to have much more power than she did, so she was slightly concerned about the lack of response.
Ciri snorted. “I'm trying! It's not easy.” It was clear that she was frustrated but she had to keep pushing if she wanted to get any kind of reaction from her.
“Not hard enough!”
She was not referring to Ciri's efforts in her lessons, it was clear that she gave everything she could. The problem was that she always arrived tired, if she arrived at all. She wasn't giving her magical training the attention it deserved, preferring the sword and the training ground outside to mastering her natural abilities. She understood it to an extent, it was easier to train the body than the mind, but she needed to see how important it was to learn to manage her powers. Those were the ones that would be with her for the rest of her life, the ones that could save her in a situation of extreme danger, and she needed to know how to use them to her advantage.
“You're focusing too much on learning how to fight when this is just as important.”
“Maybe I am because at least that's where I'm making progress.”
“I know it's hard, Ciri, but you have a responsibility. Your powers are something extraordinary, but you owe it to yourself and everybody around you to learn how to control them.” Her voice was not accusatory or dismissive. On the contrary, she made an effort to sound soft and empathetic. She wanted to make the girl understand the importance of her lessons and knew she would not succeed by making her angry. Besides, she knew very well how frustrating it could be when things didn't go as expected, she had gone through that too when she was the one learning to handle her powers.
However, Ciri didn't take it as kindly as she had hoped. “What do you know about responsibility? You abandoned your own people! At least I'm trying to fight to avenge mine!” The girl raised her voice, jumping up from her seat and giving her mentor an angry look.
“Ciri!” Geralt, who was sitting in the corner of the room fixing his armor, wanted to intervene. However, the woman waved him to stand aside. She understood that it was misplaced anger and didn't need him to jump in for her.
“It’s fine. You are right, Ciri. I abandoned my own people because it wasn’t a safe place for me… or anyone like me, if I’m being honest. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make… Realizing that my own home wasn’t safe for me was heartbreaking, but strangely liberating.” The girl's gaze softened and she resumed her place beside her. “I was trapped in that place, surrounded with people that hated me for who I was, for things I couldn’t control. My own parents thought I was a disgrace… they hid me, silence me, broke my spirits in the hopes I wouldn’t become my great grandmother. And for the longest time I let that get into me. I let them define who I was. I hated myself and my powers because everyone else did… and the more I tried to ignore them, the more I tried to suppress them, the worse they got. I had to learn to let go, to stop focusing on the negative things because it was doing me no good.”
Ciri looked at her with glazed eyes, the anger in her expression slowly morphing into sadness. “How do you do it?” her voice was almost a whisper that broke the woman's heart. She could hear so much pain in those simple words that she couldn't help but reach out to entwine her hand with hers. Suddenly, the girl's inner struggle was evident on her face. She could feel the sadness and weariness that overwhelmed her. She had been through so much at such a young age, it wasn't fair. “I can't let it go.”
“You don't have to… you just have to take control of yourself and stop letting your fear and anger control you.”
“How can I do that when everyone I love is dead… when everywhere I go I bring blood and destruction?”
“You make a choice about who you want to be because you are the only one that has the power to do that, to define yourself.” The woman moved a little closer to Ciri, lightly tightening her grip on her hand in support. “You see, magic is extremely connected to our emotions, to our most instinctive reactions. If you see it as a bad thing, as a burden, a curse… if you see yourself as a monster, a murderer that can only create chaos and destruction, then you are letting your fear define who you are. You are limiting your abilities and the chance to explore your potential.”
“How are you so sure that I'm not… a monster?”
A tear rolled down Ciri's cheek and the woman was quick to wipe it away with her thumb. She had to hold back her own tears, focusing on being a support for the girl at that moment. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't able to see herself in the frightened eyes of the young princess. She knew that fear very well, she had experienced it firsthand and that's why she wanted to help her overcome it. It was not fair that she was going through it, no one deserved to go through the horrors she had gone through at such a young age. Ciri was alone, homeless, without family, and forced to discover the terrifying foreign world at the same time she was discovering herself. It was an extremely vulnerable position to be in, but the witch would try her best to accompany her every step of the way. She didn't have to go through it all alone.
“Because nobody is born a monster.” The girl said with gentle simplicity, a sweet smile growing at the corner of her lips. “I grew up ashamed of who I was. My parents dreaded the day I was old enough to take over my kingdom. They couldn't wait to hand me over to the first nobleman who seemed competent enough, so that if one day I became unstable and dangerous because of my powers he could stop me from destroying everything they had worked so hard to build... No matter how hard I tried to make things right, they trusted a stranger more than their own daughter. Most of my childhood was clouded by this dark shadow of sadness and loneliness, until I realized that was exactly what they wanted. They wanted me to be afraid, to be alone and ashamed because then they could control me, mold me into whatever they wanted me to be. Choosing something else... choosing to be happy with who I am, choosing to help others and use my powers for good was a decision I had to make... it's a decision I make every morning when I wake up, and it's not an easy one. The easy thing is to be consumed and paralyzed by fear. Seeing the good in life and in yourself is a conscious decision that you have to make. It is one that only you can make, but I promise to be there for you when you need me. You don't have to be alone in this.”
Ciri threw herself into her mentor's arms and she held her tight against her chest for as long as she needed. She buried one hand in the girl's blonde hair and gently rubbed her back with the other until she could no longer feel her sobs against her shoulder. Her eyes searched Geralt's with a worried expression. Ciri had so much bottled up inside her that suddenly the potential danger of her unexplored and uncontrolled magic ceased to worry her. However, when her eyes met the witcher's she found nothing but calm in them. He admired their embrace with a knowing smile and she knew then that he approved of the way she had handled the situation.
Seeing the way Ciri opened up to her, Geralt was glad he had asked for her help. Swallowing his pride had definitely been the right decision. The girl didn't just need protection. She needed guidance, support and an understanding that he, as much as he wanted to, could not give her. But his sweet sunshine could, she was always open to help whoever came to her door. Geralt knew from the start that he had to take Ciri with her, not just because of her knowledge of magic or her empathic abilities, but because she was the one he always turned to when he needed guidance or a reason to keep fighting. She had a way of brightening people up that was unique. He used to think it was part of her nature, her warm, positive personality that was finally able to shine through once she was out of the prison she used to call home. Although after hearing what she told Ciri, he realized that brightening others and making them feel at peace was an effort she made every day precisely because she knew the dangerously cold and dark depths to which the mind could descend when there was no such support.
“You can rest for now, my dear. It's fine, you have done enough for one day.” The sweet voice of his sunshine brought Geralt out of his thoughts. He watched as she patted Ciri's back as the little girl wiped away her tears.
“No, it’s okay. I want to try it one more time.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can continue the lesson tomorrow after you have a good rest.”
Ciri insisted so she stepped aside to let her proceed. The girl took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her emotions as her mentor had taught her. She raised her hands to the plant that withered with each day she failed and closed her eyes. She tried her best to quiet the voices that always echoed in her mind, the ones that scared her and held her back every time magic was mentioned. She erased the images of Cintra in flames, the figure of the dark knight chasing her and the horrors that followed her every time her powers were activated. She replaced those dark visions with her mentor's words of encouragement, repeating them over and over in her mind as a way of convincing herself that all would be well and that she had nothing to fear.
Then she felt a warmth tickling her fingers and heard the gasp of the woman sitting next to her. She opened her eyes instinctively, concern already written in her expression as she looked around for answers —and to make sure she hadn't hurt anyone. The woman smiled at her and motioned with her head to look at the potted plant resting on the table. The plant itself hadn't changed much. It still looked dry and dull, but the stems were a brighter green and some of the leaves had turned from dark orange to an almost greenish yellow.
“You did it!”
“I did it!” Ciri threw herself into her mentor's arms once again, only this time with a big look of happiness on her lips. When she pulled away, she took the pot in her hands to admire her work more closely. “Geralt, look! I did it! I finally did something!”
Geralt joined in the celebrations, giving Ciri a pat on the back and a few words of encouragement to let her know he was proud of her unbreakable spirit. She fit in so well with the rest of the witchers that he was starting to get a little scared. She was as stubborn and broken as most of them. But she was also as hard working and fierce as they were. He could see a lot of himself reflected in her, in fact. She had the same eagerness to go out and prove herself in the real world that both he and his brothers had when they were just starting their training. That same impatience that Vesemir had fought so hard to quell and that reality had finally destroyed. He had to keep an eye on that.
When the moment of euphoria was over, Geralt sent Ciri to rest. “You have done enough for one day” he told her and this time the girl disappeared up the stairs with a smile on her lips, happy to have proven herself.
“I was nice what you said to her.” Geralt spoke once he was sure Ciri could not hear them.
“I just told her what I wish someone would have told me when I was her age.”
“You never told me about it… what your parents did to you.”
“Well... it's a part of my life I don't like to remember often.” She shrugged, leaning her hips back against the table as she stared at a fixed point on the wall in front of her, lost in thought. Geralt admired her delicate profile, and with a heavy heart he wondered what kind of sad memories might be swirling through her mind at that moment. “Although, in a strange way, it made me who I am today, so I guess something good came out of all that shit in the end.” She also thought that thanks to her parents' mistreatment —and her consequent escape— her path had crossed Geralt's and she would always be grateful for that. However, she decided not to mention it.
“Just when I thought I couldn't love you anymore, I discover that your act of rebellion against the world that treated you horribly is to be the kindest, sweetest person on the continent.” Geralt let out a laugh, returning his attention to his half-repaired armor that had been left forgotten on the table. But she remained silent, frozen in place.
Geralt had not thought carefully before speaking —something that happened to him more often than he would like to admit when he was with her. He didn't even realize the implications of his words until it was too late. He just stated a fact, a simple fact that had been on his mind ever since he had overheard her talking to Ciri: finding out that after all the bad things she had been through she was still the sunshine she was, made him love her even more. Geralt had always known that she was a strong and extremely brave woman, but this was the first time he really knew the extent of that strength. He had seen honest men be consumed by resentment and hatred for far less, so the fact that she strove to be a source of light and positivity not only for herself but for everyone who crossed her path was a reason to admire her.
He was so entranced by her that he didn't notice what he said —what he inadvertently admitted— until a few seconds later, when he wondered at her sudden silence. When he looked up, he found her eyes fixed on him. Those beautiful eyes that normally brought him peace, now put his insides in knots. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Geralt was paralyzed. His mind was completely blank, not knowing what to do or say, as he waited for some sign from his sunshine.
“I-” She started to speak, but before she could say anything else the doors to the hall opened, ushering in a group of noisy witchers who had just come in from hunting for dinner.
After the moment was broken, neither she nor Geralt brought up the subject again. They both thought about it countless times, wondering in the nights before bed what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. However, they were too afraid to face the situation, so they let the tension linger in the air, increasing with the growing list of unanswered questions.
Another great thing she had discovered about living in Kaer Morhen was that there was a pack of wolves nearby. The first time she had seen them was one afternoon walking around the fortress with Geralt. He hadn't let her get close, of course, claiming it was too dangerous since they were wild animals. That hadn't stopped her at the time and luckily it had never resulted in any injuries, but one never knew when their luck might change.
“That's why you're here,” she had replied, ”you'll save me if they try to eat me.”
“I don't know, will I?” He had joked in his characteristic dry tone. “If you get hurt after my warnings it is entirely on you.”
She snorted and punched him in the arm, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Of course you will! You can't live without me.” She had said that as a joke, but it was much closer to reality than she probably imagined. He was willing to do anything to keep her safe because he truly couldn't live without her. He had tried for a year and had been miserable every second he was away from her.
After having to drag her away from the wolves that day, Geralt really shouldn't have been surprised to find her playing with them weeks later. He knew her and the effect she tended to have on animals, but even so, he found it impressive the way the wolves reacted to her touch. She was sitting on the cold ground covered by a thin layer of snow. Next to her rested an adult wolf who closed his eyes with pleasure every time she stroked his head. In her lap a puppy let her scratch its belly, stretching out on her with every movement of her fingers as if preparing to take a long nap. In the distance the rest of the pack watched the two brave –or foolish— enough to approach a human, making sure they were safe.
She was speaking to them, Geralt could see in the distance that she was moving her lips, and hear the whisper of her voice on the wind, but he could not make out what she was saying —though he could almost imagine it, he had been through a few similar situations with her in the past. He was lost in thought as he admired her playing with the wild animals like they were mere domesticated dogs. A smile formed on his lips as he thought that at least he wasn't the only one completely enraptured by her aura, the entire animal kingdom joined him in that sentiment. Even his own horse loved her more than him. But he understood Roach, she was someone special and he had been lucky to cross her path.
“I see why you like her.” Vesemir's voice startled him, when had he arrived there? “She is a lovely woman.”
“She is indeed.” Geralt agreed without looking away from his princess, who was now laughing in amusement at something the wolf cub in her lap had done.
“Are you sure you're doing the right thing?” The older witcher spoke again and Geralt's brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concentration. “Are you sure she is compatible with our way of living... with our life's mission? There's less of us every winter and something big is coming, I know it... I can lose you, wolf.”
Geralt was silent for a moment, contemplating Vesemir's words. The gods knew that he had asked himself that same question multiple times since he had met her. The answer always changed depending on his mood. Sometimes —especially when he spent a lot of time with her in her hut— he was sure that his future was at her side and that nothing could ever keep him away from her. Other times, when the pressures of reality forced him to abandon his fantasies, he recognized that their relationship was complicated at best and impossible at worst. But all that had changed after she was attacked by a Bruxa.
After failing to protect her that time he convinced himself that their relationship should end, not because it was incompatible with his life itself, but because he was too afraid of losing her. The images of that attack had not left his mind in the year he had spent away from her. It plagued his nightmares when he slept and his thoughts when he was awake. He was so horrified at the thought of losing her because he was unable to protect her from danger that he was willing to endure a life of misery just to make sure she was all right. In his experience, missing what could never be was better than mourning the loss of those who were gone and could never come back. So he endured the gray days and sleepless nights, finding comfort in knowing that his princess was safe and sound in her hut, far from the danger he represented.
Geralt had convinced himself that this was for the best because it was the simplest option, the clearest solution to his problem. Keep her safe by staying away from her and wait for the time to pass and help him forget about his feelings. But now he was not so sure. Maybe it was the thrill of being reunited with her after yearning to feel her touch for a year. Or maybe it was the optimism of his sunshine speaking through him, but Geralt was beginning to consider that maybe there was a future for them where neither of them had to suffer. It probably wouldn't be easy, but life's hardships hadn't stopped her before, so why should they stop him?
“We can make it work.” He finally said and for the first time since she had entered his life, Geralt felt a sense of certainty as he spoke those words.
Vesemir didn't answer him, although Geralt didn't give him much time to do so because seconds after those words left his mouth, he was walking towards her. When he approached her, the first thing she did was make excuses for what she was doing, expecting Geralt to scold her for not listening to his warnings. But he wasn't interested in that, he had far more important revelations to share with her.
“I know what you are going to say, it's dangerous and all that, but they came to me for help!” she hurried to say while petting the wolves to make sure Geralt's presence didn't disturb them. “This little one was hurt! I couldn't let him die, he's too adorable and fluffy! I saved his life and now they like me.”
“Do you remember what you told me when I arrived at your home with Ciri?” Geralt ignored her rambling. She looked up from the puppy gently nibbling her fingers to meet his eyes. He wasn't sure if the look of confusion on her face was due to his sudden question or because she didn't know the answer, so he continued speaking. “You wanted to know why it took me so long to come back... I've been thinking a lot about that, especially after hearing you talk to Ciri the other day.”
The woman rose on her feet from the cold ground, leaving the wolf pup next to his brother. “Geralt, what is this about?” she inquired, wide eyes watching him curiously and somewhat warily, like a deer startled by the presence of a noisy stranger.
“All my life, the one I remember at least, I’ve worked towards one goal and one goal alone… kill all monsters on the continent. It’s what I was trained to do and I never questioned it… I never wanted to do anything else, until I met you. What I feel for you…”
Geralt paused, struggling to find the right words to describe the way his day brightened with her mere presence, how his mood improved if he saw her smile.
“I never felt anything like that before,” he let out a sigh, resigned to the fact that he could never explain in simple words what she made him feel without even realizing it. “That scared me. I was scared of what it could mean for the future, but more importantly, I was terrified of losing you. So I convinced myself that running away from you, from what I felt, was the right thing to do to protect you and keep you safe from all the shit I bring along... Now I know I was just protecting myself. You tried to tell me, but I wasn't ready to listen.”
She took a step toward him, looking up at him with wide eyes that sparkled in the weak winter sun. “Geralt, what are you saying?” She needed to hear him say it. After so much time of feelings left unsaid, she needed to hear the words coming out of his mouth so there would be no more conflicts or misunderstandings. She needed to be sure of what he felt.
“I'm saying I'm sorry... I'm saying I love you and I want you at my side, If you still want me too.”
She replied in the most direct way she could without using words. With a quick step, she closed the distance that separated them and joined her lips to Geralt's. As much as she had longed for that kiss, it was a timid one. Her lips barely brushed his, their noses brushing against each other as they leaned in a soft, intimate caress. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the warmth that flooded her body as she felt Geralt reciprocate her kiss immediately. Their lips moved slowly, savoring the moment. It didn't last long, but it was enough to take her breath away.
When they pulled apart, she looked up at Geralt through her eyelashes. She met the amber of his eyes shining in a way she had never seen before. His hand rested on her cheek, calloused fingers caressing the soft skin. It was nothing new, yet the way he was looking at her made her cheeks warm. There was a softness in his eyes that she did not recognize. He admired her as if she were a lost relic, something of priceless value that he couldn't believe he had in front of his eyes.
And in a way, that was true. Even though he had just bared his soul to her. Even though she had kissed him. Even though deep down, he always knew his feelings were reciprocated. Despite everything, Geralt still couldn't believe that a woman as wonderful as her would choose to love him. Of all the people on the continent, of all the places that existed, she loved him and wanted to be by his side. As happy as he was that she did, it didn't feel real. Geralt did not feel worthy of the love of such a good woman, but he was willing to work hard every day of his life so that she would not regret her decision.
Geralt was the one who initiated the second kiss, which was much more confident than the first. His hand remained on her cheek while the other found its place on her waist, holding her close against him. Her lips were soft and warm against his, like a summer morning breeze —just as he had imagined them. When he sucked on her lower lip, she let out the subtlest moan, her hands clinging to his shoulders for support. Geralt became addicted to it instantly, feeling a strange sense of pride at having elicited such a reaction from her. He repeated the action, taking a mental note of the way she reacted to every little movement of his lips. He was desperate to know more about her, to find out the other sounds she made and the various ways her body would respond to his touch, but he restrained himself from deepening the kiss any further. They would have time for that.
“That was...” She tried to speak when they broke apart, her mind clouded with euphoria struggling to find words to describe what that kiss made her feel.
“Late.” Geralt finished for her, resting his forehead on hers.
“I was going to say 'better than I imagined', but 'late' works too.” She let out a chuckle. “So, what now? How do we go on from here?” It was a genuine question she had. She had fantasized many times about this moment —the big confession, the first kiss, the way it would all feel—, but it never got any further. It felt so far away, so impossible, that she had never really spent time thinking beyond happily ever after.
“Well, we can start by getting you out of the cold.” Geralt smiled, finally pulling away from her to start his way back to the fortress. He took her hand and noticed how cold it felt against his own. “Come on, we need to get you inside so you can warm up.”
She smiled playfully. “Only if you help me.”
I hope you guys liked it! Sorry for the long wait, but it wil probably happen again lol
I have a few ideas for the next part. Without spoiling too much, I think it's time Yen makes an appearance to explain some of the gaps it the timeline when Geralt was away... so, lots of jealousy and angst coming!
BUT I'm not 100% sure of how thing are going to play out, so if you guys have any ideas of things you would like to see in the story (for this next part or future ones!) please drop an ask/message/comment thank youuu ily
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