#what if there’s a scar through it and it’s because he tried to get rid of it in azkaban or after bc he doesn’t deserve it

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[allllium]

Comfort

~ Some Sappy Jason Todd x Reader

~ Playing with Jason's Hair

~ Fluff, a little overthinking, WC: 981

- You play with Jason's Hair -

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God Jason you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want to know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had."

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

[ro-is-struggling]

His || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

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

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

English is not my first language

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, fate seemed to have other plans for him.

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

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

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

“What are you doing out here alone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That means...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'd rather you didn't.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need more... I need you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever given yourself pleasure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think you're ready for more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least until he noticed the doubt in your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + piss kink

you love following toji around the house while talking his ears off. he's making his coffee and you're drinking, telling him about the book you've been reading. he's watching the tv and you're curled on his lap, whispering fun facts about the movie that's playing on the screen. he's doing pushups and you're laying down beside him, counting his reps for him (you mess up the numbers just to have him roll his eyes at you with a smirk.)

whatever room he's in – you're there. he can't get rid of you but it's not like he even wants that. he likes the attention, he loves how much you want his. and he loves listening you, so he really doesn't mind. he thinks of you like a little kitten, jogging after him the second he pushes himself off the couch. it's sweet.

until—

he marches into the bathroom and you're right on his heel, rambling about your day. toji looks at you through the mirror, curious as to when you're going to realize that you're now in the bathroom with him. but he doesn't say anything other than a little raspy "yeah?" at whatever you just said.

he stands in front of the toilet and raises the lid while watching you plop down onto the counter right next to him without a care in the world. he raises a brow, his scarred lip quirking up into a sly smirk.

your eyes are on him. you're smiling, too.

you know exactly what you're doing.

toji's hands unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, all while keeping eye-contact. he wants to see how far you're willing to go.

you don't stop talking; cocking your head to the side and leaning forward, you tempt him. he doesn't miss the way your thighs press together and the way you bite down on your lip. you're not smooth at all. that only makes him love you even more – you're just as nasty as he is.

it's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes on his now though... he has pulled down his pants and underwear and you wanna look at it. your sentences are drawn out, your words are starting to mix up.

"c'mon, keep going."

you wanna hate how smug he is. how cocky, how arrogant. but you can't, because the only thing you can think about right now is taking his fat cock balls deep down your throat. your lips part at the thought and toji groans under his breath.

sweetly fluttering your eyelashes at him, you continue mumbling about your day. you can't surpress the hum that crawls up from the depths of your stomach when you finally hear the steady stream of piss hitting the toilet bowl.

you break eye-contact and his chest swells with pride. he can hear your breath hitch, he can almost see your mouth salivate.

"well, aren't you a little pervert, hm?"

your gazes meet again and he expects you to pout at him like you usually do, but no – not this time. lips curling up in a syrupy, sugary way, you purr at him. "ya love it."

toji growls. you're trying to kill him, surely. your eyes are low but still as playful as ever, your thighs pressing together even harder to relieve the growing need between them.

his eyebrows raise when you suddenly jump off the counter and take your place right beside him. eyes glued to his, you blindly reach for his hardening cock. tugging at the nape of his neck with your free hand, you pull him down and press your lips against his. you feel him grin, you feel him twitch in your hand.

he's so warm and he's so big; you give him a few slow, lazy strokes before tucking him back inside his underwear. he tries to pull away from the kiss, clearly a little confused by your actions, but you don't let him.

you nip at his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth. you give his now clothed bulge two very light taps and then you're the one that's pulling away, leaving him chasing after you.

giving him a giggle, you back up and jump back onto the counter. he can't believe you – you really are a little minx, sitting pretty before him while he's now hard and needy with new, hot ideas flooding his mind.

he wants to know what other dirty things you're thinking about, what other fucked up things you'll do for him. what he'll do for you.

— you're in for a long, long night.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being honest about what I would change about my boyfriend?

🥊🥊

I’m a cis guy (22m) and I have a boyfriend that’s transgender (20m). We’ve been together for 2 years.

My boyfriend is a very cute guy and he gets hit on a lot in queer spaces tbh. even by lesbians, and they fully see him as a guy. He’s just very sweet and approachable I guess. A lot of people tell him he’s super attractive and I agree, but there are just certain things about his body that don’t appeal to me.

We were at a friend’s birthday party. People got drunk, I was tipsy. We played this game that was like cards with questions about relationships/love/intimacy on them and the whole group would discuss.

One of the questions was something along the lines of "If you could change anything about your partner, what would it be?" Or whatever.

Now, I went first and said I’d probably make him less hairy and get rid of the dark spots in his crotch area and his acne scars. He has some discoloration around his private areas from a rash he got when he was like 13 and some faint scarring from pimples I guess. It’s not an issue, but definitely not my preference. Plus he can’t really shave clean down there because he has thick hair and it always makes him get those razor burn bumps or whatever. Fine by me, he’s hot as hell either way.

Plus, he has a lot of discoloration around his shoulders, back, chest and face from severe acne outbreaks from his puberty and then later again when he started taking testosterone. It’s calmed down a lot, but the scarring is still very prominent. It’s not an issue, just not very pretty to look at.

Please don’t get me wrong. He’s an incredibly attractive person, I just wish his skin was a little prettier. It’s a bit of a turnoff, that’s all. It never stopped me from being absolutely enamored with him.

But when I explained this, a little less explicitly than this of course, the group went dead silent. Everyone was staring at me, some of the girls even clasped their hands over their mouths etc.

When I looked at my boyfriend he was completely pale and was just blankly staring at me before getting up and saying he needs to pee. I just said okay and then gave the card to the person next to me. She very quietly said she’d take away her girlfriend’s anxiety because it hurts her to see the person she loves like that. That’s when it sort of dawned on me that I messed up and that I was way out of line for saying these things in front of our friends.

He apparently left soon after that, which I only found out through a friend. I was a little confused but figured he was just a little embarrassed. We don’t live together, so it isn’t unusual for one of us to leave before the other. But then I found out that his best friend left with him because he was sobbing and couldn’t stop.

I tried calling him and texting him for multiple hours and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by just popping up at his home, so I gave up and eventually went home. That was two days ago and I still haven’t heard from him. He’s usually a very clingy and noisy person and always sends me small updates throughout the day, but I haven’t heard anything from him the entire time.

I’m so scared. I love this guy so much, he’s the sweetest and the single most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I know he has a lot of severe insecurity issues around his body, especially regarding his scarring. But it’s all gotten a lot better in recent months and he even began to love how hairy he is because it makes him feel euphoric.

Now I can’t help but feel like I took that away from him because of some stupid game. But at the same time, I don’t think it was fair for him to just up and leave without talking to me. We could’ve talked it out and I just wish he would communicate with me.

I already know I was a bit out of line for this, but I just tend to be uncomfortably honest. He knows this and loves me for it, so I’m confused why he’s THIS upset about this one. He’s never gone this long without talking to me.

Am I the asshole? I was just playing the game. I don’t think it’s fair to call me cruel for this just because other people are scared to be honest and say shit like they’d take away their partner’s mental illness. It’s so fake and that shit just pisses me off. Everyone has something they would change about their partner’s appearance.

[fangsandfeels]

I've seen the "Non-ascended Astarion ending is bad for him because you have to persuade him to reject the ritual" opinion...

..implying that he never really wanted not to ascend, it's you the player who selfishly forces him to give up on his goal. To prove their point, they state that you can get a good ending out of all other companion's quests without using Persuasion at all, except for Astarion.

And boy did I want to talk about this...

(In fact, everything I wanted to say has already been told in this amazing meta post, but I still gotta ramble)

First of all, Astarion was going through an intense PTSD. The game gave him a debuff to show how badly going back to the place of his torment was affecting him. Larian couldn't make it more obvious that he wasn't thinking clearly.

Second, there is one thing all abusers have in common: they destroy their victim's feelings of self-worth to the point, the victim no longer wants or knows how to ask for help or have relationships outside their abusive circle.

Who would want you like this? Look at yourself, you think you're better than me? You're nothing. Who would want to waste their time on you? You think somebody else would treat you better?

Since entering the Cazador's palace, Astarion is reliving his worst moments. Initially, he takes it in stride, hiding his discomfort underneath performative and emotional expressiveness. He talks about how he spent time in the bedrooms where he never did any sleeping, about the kennels where he was tortured, about the barracks where he was sent to when he "deserved neither carrot nor stick". Bad memories, but he shares them with Tav because he trusts them with his scars already. They might as well know the rest.

But after descending into the dungeon, Astarion starts spiraling into self-loathing at a break-neck speed. He used to think that all Cazador victims he ever brought to him were long gone, drained, and discarded. A horrible, undeserved death, yet the thought of them not having to suffer for too long was a small consolation, one of the threads holding his sanity together.

But then it turns out that they weren't dead. They were turned. Locked away deep underground, alone with their new selves, with the hunger and isolation. They did suffer. All these years, they suffered, buried in this tomb - because of him. Cazador may have turned them, but it was Astarion who brought them to him. And they remembered it. They recognized him. The monster who stole them from their home. The monster who ruined their life. Monster. Just like Cazador.

So, as if his PTSD wasn't enough, this revelation was another blow to his grip on himself, his perception of himself. His confident facade was shattering - and in his head, he was starting to think that Tav's idea of him, of who he is, was shattering as well. He tried to warn them before. He said he couldn't be what they saw in him. Whatever person they believed him to be had never existed - and Tav was finally coming to realize that as they walked through the gallery of his sins, looking his victims in the eyes and hearing out what they had to say. Of course, Tav hated him now. They had to. How could they not?

So, at the end, he is scared. Terrified. He bit off more than he could chew by walking into the manor and thinking he had only six fellow spawns to deal with. He saw their lives as a small price to pay because Cazador made sure to erase any solidarity between them. He made them torture each other and compete with each other. He twisted the very meaning of family bonds to his perverted liking, and he knew that by doing so, he would make sure every single one of them would get a whiplash from anyone trying to mention family in a positive connotation. Astarion takes no issue with getting rid of his "brothers" and "sisters" because he is fully aware that had the roles been reversed, they would have sacrificed him without a second thought. And he was certain that Tav would change their mind once they learned more about his brethren.

But the spawns in the dungeon...All the faces he remembered. All the lovers he lured. They did nothing wrong. They never hurt him. They never tortured him. Their only mistake was to trust him.

The revelation horrifies him. His first response is to be shocked, overwhelmed with emotion - and then he has to remind himself that sacrifices must be made. He feigns indifference. He tries to cover his internal conflict with gallows humor. But his flippant mask keeps slipping as he lapses from indifference to anger, to guilt, to begging Tav not to hate him as his greatest crimes glare back at him and claw at him, shouting out threats and seething with hatred.

He can't bear the thought of dealing with all the people whose lives he helped to destroy. He can't do anything for them. Just killing Cazador won't undo what he did to them. He will never be anything but a monster in their eyes. And this is what he deserves to be. He will always be reminded of what he is.

He has no choice but to do the Ritual.

He has no idea what will happen to him after he is done - he isn't a planner. He has never been. But at this point, he doesn't see his soul as something worthy of preserving - and by association, he extends that to other spawns. He knows it all too well because he remembers how it felt. He dissociates, projecting everything he hated about himself onto Cazador's victims, trying to rationalize why he should live and why they must die while he actively avoids the truth.

Completing the ritual is no longer about being free. Or protecting himself and his lover. It's about running away. Even when Astarion has Cazador at his mercy, he still thinks of running away. Getting lost forever. So nobody could ever hurt him.

A part of him even realizes that it means running away from Tav too. But Tav can leave, he naively thinks, not knowing the full consequences of the ritual. Tav will leave to find someone else, someone better, and he will start everything anew, a king of his castle.

So, of course, Tav has to reach out to him through that thick haze of fear, anger, and self-hatred. Persuasion isn't about strongarming someone into doing what you want. It's not subjugation or emotional blackmail. It's reasoning with someone. And that is exactly what Tav does - reasons with Astarion after watching him mentally struggle, after seeing his genuine shock and fear, after understanding that he isn't fully on board with the idea.

It's true, vampire spawns tend to gravitate toward power, especially if nothing is pulling them back. A vampire spawn is a feared and scorned creature - it no longer matters whether they were an unwilling victim, forcefully taken and turned. They are seen not as an individual but as the extension of their master - and the only natural transition for them is to get on the top of the food chain. The only way to make a name and become treated as something more.

Astarion saw power as the mean to safety and freedom, first and foremost. Ironically, he never planned beyond securing these two priorities. He never saw himself after accomplishing his goals, and it's kinda amazing how people can make conclusions about his hedonism because he misses petty vanities, wants to drink blood from a goblet, and sleep on silken sheets. The man who was held and tortured in the kennels, fed rats, and had to stitch and fix his only set of clothes over and over to keep it presentable, the man who has never felt happy for most of his conscious non-life is called hedonistic for wanting nice things. For still wanting to take care of himself for once.

He wasn't harboring any grand plans, conquests, or schemes. Even his idea of taking control of the Absolute was abstract and shapeless because he didn't care about getting control over the most influential people as much as he was afraid of breaking whatever protected him from Cazador's domination. He never really knew what to do with power aside from keeping Cazador and the likes of him at bay.

The way Astarion behaves in a relationship also speaks tons of how controlling he really is...or how he isn't controlling at all. When his romance with Tav transforms into something real, and he enters a new territory, Astarion is empowered to make decisions and think about what he wants instead of pleasuring others. It's clear that he and Tav don't have sex after they come clear about their feelings. Tav respects his comfort and boundaries, gives him all the time he needs, and lets him take the lead. Whether they will have sex again or not is entirely up to Astarion. Whatever he decides, it won't change Tav's feelings for him. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do.

Astarion enjoys this new autonomy. He is playful, affectionate, outspoken...and afraid of messing everything up. If Tav mentions breaking up, Astarion thinks he is the problem. If there is another potential love interest showing they have eyes for Tav, Astarion encourages Tav to be with them because he believes they can give Tav everything he can't. When Tav says "I choose you," Astarion is taken aback, needing a moment to hide his genuine confusion at Tav actually wanting to be with him rather than Gale, Karlach, or Halsin.

For all his talks of control and dominating others, once Astarion finds himself with a lover who values his autonomy more than getting power at the cost of his dignity, who makes it safe for him to be honest, and who listens to him, he almost stops mentioning control. He merely lives in the moment, happy not to know, not to pretend, not to manipulate. Just to be.

What Astarion truly craves - not wants on a superficial level, not conditioned to want - is not to be a vampire lord. He wants the freedom to be anything. Anything he wants. Little does he know that true vampires rarely get to be anything they want, even if they gain the ability to walk in the sun -- we see it in his Ascended path as, instead of acting up on his supposed freedom to be anything, Astarion repeats Cazador's rules step by step. Just like Cazador did. Just like Verlioth did. He isn't anything he wants. He is the replica of his former master.

Astarion never had the luxury to explore who he wanted to be outside what Cazador made him. He only makes his first steps once he is free. We see glimpses of that deep-seated aspiration to be seen as a person. Treated like a person. Loved like a person. To be reflected in someone's eyes. He wants to know if there is someone beneath his usual mask, something his, not tainted by Cazador. Someone real. And at the same time, he dreads to know the answer. Because that part of him knows regret. Knows shame. Knows guilt. Confronting it posed the risk of realizing he didn't deserve love, kindness, or a future. What if real him truly doesn't amount to anything? What else for him to do?

So, he tells himself that he has no choice, and he expects Tav to affirm it -- not because he wants them to, but because he believes that Tav has seen enough to make the same conclusion. However, Tav objects, trying to be louder than all the inner demons hissing into his ears. Tav speaks to the Astarion, who asked them what they saw when they looked at him. The Astarion, who thanked them for standing by his side when he said "No" to Araj. The Astarion one who stood frozen in their hug before returning it tentatively. The Astarion who diligently, dedicatedly, caringly kept pulling himself together instead of letting himself unravel completely.

Tav reminds him that this Astarion, right here, right now, is worth fighting for. That he didn't survive all these years of torture, pain, humiliation, and dehumanization to give himself up now. He already has the power to avenge himself, avenge all Cazador's victims. He can end everything right here, right now - and this is the only power to free him. He has the power (and responsibility) of having a choice.

Tav empathizes with other spawns as victims not because they're more "innocent" than Astarion, but because associating with them doesn't brand Astarion as weak or broken. These spawns aren't horrible wretches, and neither is he. They don't deserve this, and neither did he.

The only one who deserves to die today is Cazador - the vampire, the monster, the pathetic piece of shit.

Astarion Ancunin deserves to live.

[landojpg04]

I should not be writing this as I have finals and a huge project due by Sunday, but on my fyp all I've been listening and seeing is the new Hozier song that is supposed to come out next Friday. The one where he sings You're too sweet for me, and I cannot stop picturing Simon saying that throughout the discourse of your relationship.

When you both first meet, you notice that when this man drinks his coffee, it’s black. No sugar, sweetener, not even creamer. It's just a pure bitter liquid that he sips through a debrief in the morning. Meanwhile, you loved sweeteners, oat milk, almond milk, sweet cream foams, and anything that would rid the bitterness. 

“Your coffee is basically sugar.” You heard him grumble as you added more cream to your cup. You smiled and offered him the creamer in your hand.

“Won't kill you to try some; it’ll may make the bitterness go away.” You said.

“I like my coffee black.” He says before walking away.

The next night out, you were running late. You finally made it to the restaurant/bar. The team had already ordered some drinks, but behind you was Simon.

“Wanna order together.” You say, and he just nods, leading the way to the bar.

You catch the attention of the bartender.

“Can I get a cosmo.” You said; he nodded his head and looked at Simon for his.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

You looked at Simon with a puzzling look. He raised his eyebrows as you stared at him.

“Your drink of choice is warm whiskey?” You asked.

“It’s better than a juice with alcohol.”

You just laughed at his remark towards you.

“Simon, you just aren’t a fan of sweet things.” You said as the bartender handed you your drinks.

“Not in the aspects you think.” He says before leading you back to the table.

Johnny knew of the crush Simon never dared to let on towards you. He would always push the lieutenant to at least try and make a move or even hold a conversation longer than 5 minutes with you. 

It's not until they are both smoking a cigar and enjoying the quiet of the night when Johnny finally gets a glimpse of his true thoughts.

“Why is it that you won't allow yourself to pursue even past the debriefing room or weekly gatherings? She definitely wouldn’t say no to a night out with just you.”

Simon just blows the smoke he was savoring in his lungs.

“She’s too sweet for me.” That is all he lets on.

Johnny gave him a look, not understanding his thoughts.

“She’s too sweet for me. She can’t be with someone like me. It would be like mixing honey and ash. It wouldn’t work.”

You heard Simon complaining about shoulder pain the other day. You had picked up some lidocaine cream and patches because that is what worked for you. 

“Hey Simon,” You tried to get his attention before he got in his truck.

He stopped and turned to see you catching up to you. You had a small bag in your hand. He relaxed on the side of his door as he waited for you.

“Here you go.” You said, handing him the bag.

“What is it?” He said, looking at it before peeking in.

“I heard you complaining about shoulder pain, and I have the same problem, so I thought I would share the love by getting you some of the remedies I use for you.” 

“You're too sweet for me.” He whispered to himself, almost as a reminder.

“What?” You said, not picking up on what he had just said.

“Thank you, this is really nice of you.” He said. You nodded and gave him a smile before walking over to your car. 

It’s three in the afternoon, and you're in his bed. It's a rainy day, and right now, you both are tucked in under his covers, taking in each other's body heat. You looked up to meet his eyes. He peers down to meet your gaze. Simon could have never thought, after years of this back and forth, that you would still agree to be here with him. You trace the scar that lines his lip. You knew he was afraid to bear himself all to you. To open Pandora's box and let you see him like this. No mask, no guard, just him. He was expecting you to run away from the bitterness he knows surrounds him. But you stayed. And continue to do so.

“You're too sweet for me.” He says before grabbing a hold of your chin and moving you towards his lips. 

ANGST PORTION (don't hate me, but this is also in my head)

He’s standing before you. Hood on, hands in the pocket. He gazes down as he mutters the words,

“You're too sweet for me.”

He’s attempting to break things between you. And his reasoning echoes in your head: You're too sweet for me. At the end of the day, you care for the man you love, have been there for him through the darkness, and have shown him the way it feels to be loved. And he's stepping back because of the words–You're too sweet for me. 

[lcvclywon]

what if when you're fully awake, i come to my senses

back to masterlist

synopsis ᯓ sunghoon had a picture perfect life planned out with you, but you didn't know how to tell him that wasn't the life you could ever be apart of

warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, kissing, mentions of family + motherhood, erm lowercase intended, ignore typos lawl, mentions of alcohol

genre ⭑.ᐟ angst

pairings: non-idol ex!sunghoon x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 1.2k

thoughts frm yuya💭 what acc was this again

2 years. it had been two years since you had broken up with sunghoon and left korea without warning. since then you had started a new life, new friends, new place, new job, new you. but following a promotion in your job you now had to move all the way back to korea. 

to be honest, a small part of you still did care if you would end up seeing him in seoul again. you really shouldn’t be the one caring considering you were the one who ended things but, a small part of you hoped to bump into him. even if it was at work, a random cafe, a restaurant nearby your office, even a brush of shoulders whilst walking down the street would’ve been enough for you. just to see if he was alright, if he was doing better than you after the breakup. but alas, nothing. who were you to blame really, korea was a big country…stupid to think you guys could ever meet. and so eventually as years passed on, the small hope that lingered in your chest eventually faded and you forgot about sunghoon. and that was going great until- 

“YN?“ no way. 

as if fate would have it, there sunghoon stood before you years after you stopped caring. this wasn’t really the way you expected meeting him after all these years, but there you were standing  face to face with him at your local bar after a tough day at work. splendid, really. 

“Sunghoon!” quickly wiping away the dust of laver on your lips you turned around to face him, it was a relief to you that he didn’t look entirely dreadful after seeing you. but in all honesty it made you feel even worse about how things ended. 

“What are you doing back in korea?” he didn’t really bother for an invitation to sit down before grabbing a stool at the bar for himself and seating himself next to you

you finished off the last few sips of beer left in your cup before stuttering out “Oh my um- my job had me move here a couple years back. i think it’s been what- like two years since i’ve been here, yeah two years…” 

“that’s nice, that’s nice…” sunghoon mumbled out while nodding. then you two just sat there, in silence. god what the fuck were you two even doing….

just as you were about to say your goodbyes and rid yourself from this awkward tension he blurted out “why’d you do it?”

“what?” god why were you even playing dumb right now, your gut knew what he was talking about 

“the breakup, why’d you leave like that,” his voice was shaky as he spoke, glancing over you realised he didn’t even look up to your face whilst saying it. maybe he really wasn’t as fine as you thought “you just left really abruptly, i- i just wanna know why?” 

“i-“ mustering up the courage you finally stumbled out “i heard that day…”

“what?” please don’t make me hurt you by saying it sunghoon…

“that day with heeseung, i heard it.”

“i’m not quite understanding-“

“You were talking about wanting a family, wanting kids….with me-“ 

“oh…”

“i tried you know, i tried to want that too. i tried imagining myself with kids, our kids, and i tried feeling happy at the thought. but i was just scared..” you couldn’t help but laugh at your own pathetic behavior “i’m not fit to be a mother sunghoon, i wouldn’t be a good one.” 

“was that…” he paused to inhale a shaky breath “was that the reason?”

you could only nod in response. 

“yn, why didn’t you just tell me? i would’ve understood, we could’ve talked things through.”

“hoon,” the nickname still left your mouth with a smile “we were together for five years, five years you probably harbored that dream. and i didn’t wanna get in the way of that because i was scared…and god you just- you sounded so happy describing it”

“you could’ve just told me-“

“i didnt want you to change your hopes and dreams just because i didn’t fit it. i wanted you to have a life with a woman who could make you happy, a life where you could have those dreams, a life where you could be a father.”

“i don’t want any part of that life if it’s not with you…” what was meant to come out as an outburst only left his mouth was a defeated surrender. 

you didn’t really know what to say, so you just hugged him. you engulfed him between your arms letting his head rest on the crook of your neck, feeling how his tears stained your collarbones. 

“we shouldn’t do this…” you whispered out, as if speaking too loud would snap him out of whatever trance he was in 

“no, we shouldn’t…” he didn’t let go though “do you not want to at least try, it’s been years. i’ve changed” 

finally pulling away you cupped his tear stained cheeks with your hands before replying with “i get that you’ve changed hoon, probably for the better too. but i don’t think i have, and i still can’t give you that dream. i wouldn’t be giving you a life you deserved” 

“yn,” your name left his tongue like a plead before his hand reached up to meet yours “a life with you is all that i want.”

you wanted to believe this, but you knew deep down it wasn’t what he wanted. it was what he was settling for. 

“i cant take that life away from you hoon. i cant be selfish again.” you smiled weakly at him trying to cover up the fact that you could practically hear your own heart shattering “be with someone who can be enough. please” 

he didn’t respond. he only inched his face closer to yours to press a tender kiss on your lips, and you didn’t bother to stop him. you kissed him back but you both knew, it wasn’t a kiss to save whatever scraps of the relationship you had left, it was goodbye. perhaps that’s why you let his lips linger a little longer, perhaps that’s why you let him snake his arms around your waist and tangled them though your hair, perhaps that’s why you let yourself enjoy the kiss a little more, perhaps thats why you weren’t the one to pull away this time. 

facing his tear stained cheeks and hopeless expression once again, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. but this time you let him be the one to walk away first. 

“goodbye yn, i love you”

“goodbye hoon.” you couldn’t really return the last sentiment 

it was sad, the whole situation. but you knew it was for the better. you knew you weren’t what sunghoon wanted, nor what he should settle for. somewhere down the line, even if it hurt you now, it would make sense. it wouldnt kill you everytime you thought of it, it wouldn’t break your heart or make you sob. over time it would get better.

perhaps that’s why, five years down the line, when you happened to cross by sunghoon walking happily down the street wtih his daughter on top of his shoulders as his wife laughed…you could only smile. 

perm taglist @floweryang @cupidhoons @msauthor @dimplewonie @cholexc @i2ycat @bunnbam @tobiosbbyghorl @jlheon @dioll @jwsdoll @junislqve @jeongonniiee @thatsoraya @antoncyng

[tiredfox64]

Can I ask request a Kuai Liang x reader on the reader also being a pyromancer but always kept it a secret and Kaui Liang finds out about the reader's ability and tries to help teach only for the reader to avoid him out of fear of either being made fun of or accidentally hurting him until Kuai Liang shows his ability to prove the reader otherwise?

A Lighter to a Bonfire

Yip notes: Goodness, I need to show him more love. I was out here working to get dragon crystals to buy him more clothes and I barely make fics for him.

Pairing: Kuai Liang (MK1) x Gn reader

Warnings‼️: FUEGO FUEGO FIRE FIRE

At the young age of five, you discovered something that you thought was a curse. It all started from an incident where your emotions were out of control, resulting in you bursting into a ball of flames. Your parents were horrified. They didn’t know what happened and neither did you. They thought this was an instance of human combustion but you were fine. No burn or scar left behind. That’s not right.

Through research, you found out that there was a long history of pyromancers in your family. It looks like it went on for years before diminishing by the 1900s. Fewer children were being taught how to control their abilities until the practice died out. That was until you had your incident. Looks like it jumped some generations.

Unfortunately, nobody in your family knew how to help. They tried their best to get rid of it but it was no use. Blessings, cleansings, healing, and even chicken blood could not rid you of your destiny. All you could do was adapt. For you, adapting meant staying away from people.

You rarely had friends out of fear of hurting them. You distanced yourself from your family which saddened them. You had to focus on keeping yourself calm to prevent any incidents. You would hate to burn anything, especially if it was something of yours. Some days you would wonder why it had to be you. You cried from the despair of being alone. It was a sacrifice you had to make to keep everyone safe. No one could have helped you.

Or so you thought.

On a random day, you were visited by a man with glowing eyes who said he was the protector of Earthrealm and the god of fire. His name was Liu Kang and for once you felt hope. You thought that god himself would help get rid of this stupid curse. That wasn’t what he came for. Instead, he said he wanted to train you and help you control your pyromancy abilities, just like he helped your ancestors. He informed you that he would bring you to someone who could be of great assistance.  

Though you couldn’t get rid of this ability at least you could learn to control it. You could live a better life now. You can have friends and your family near you without worrying about them getting hurt. You were on board with this. Liu Kang was pleased to see your enthusiasm and said he would bring you to the Shirai Ryu to gain assistance.

This was truly a new beginning for you.

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There was a spark the moment you met Kuai Liang. Liu Kang never mentioned that he was so handsome. And he was the grandmaster? You’re gonna be assisted by the grandmaster? This was exciting.

Kuai Liang was intrigued by you. All Liu Kang told him was that you were in need of assistance. You needed training and guidance on how to keep your emotions steady. It was important that you didn’t condense your emotions but instead balance them. Kuai Liang initially thought you were some rogue person who had no other purpose in life because Liu Kang didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell him that you were a pyromancer and you were never told that Kuai Liang was one as well. A pretty good one actually.

Maybe it was god playing a practical joke on you. Maybe it was god wanting to let time tell what would happen between you and Kuai Liang. There is really no real reason why Liu Kang didn’t tell you two that you’re both pyromancers. He just wants to play matchmaker.

Kuai Liang found it best to meditate as it’s a great way to stabilize yourself. It quiets the mind and calms your breathing. Plus, it’s an excuse for Kuai Liang to step away from the stress of building a new clan. If he has to deal with another incompetent initiate or losing track of Bi-Han he’s gonna combust and never extinguish.

Your time with Kuai Liang was peaceful. It wasn’t easy in the beginning. You were afraid of being too hopeful and wasting your breath on something that was doomed to fail. You feared that the moment you thought you had control over yourself you would accidentally burn everything around you. Your mind ran wild with these negative thoughts. They’d make your skin all clammy and your chest would burn with the flames that flowed through your veins. Then Kuai Liang would tell you to breathe. Hold it for five seconds then let it out just as slowly. There, don’t you feel better?

Kuai Liang had a lot of patience when it came to you which was almost shocking. He always seemed to be in a rush when it came to everything else. He needed the initiates to better themselves fast. He was in a rush to catch Bi-Han and prevent him from causing any harm to the realms. With you, he acted like he had all the time in the world. You weren’t sure if it was because Liu Kang told him he had to be cautious or if Kuai Liang was doing it out of kindness.

The real answer is that Kuai Liang feels like there is something special about you. He didn’t know what it was but he had a gut feeling you and him weren’t all that different.

You had a feeling too but not the same one he did. He was suspicious, you were straight-up feeling. Who could blame you? You spent most of your life cooped up in an effort to prevent yourself from hurting others. You meet a handsome man who shows you respect and doesn’t fear you in the slightest. Even some of your family feared you for your explosive tendencies. But him, oh no, he looked at you like you were a person and not a ticking bomb. It’s reasonable that you would find comfort in him. Maybe a little bit of affection too.

That’s what makes you scared. You assumed that Kuai Liang doesn’t know you’re a pyromancer since he never brought it up or taught you how to control it. You were afraid to burn the bond you were starting to create with him.

At this point, you two weren’t just meditating together. You would take walks together which were soothing. You two would have conversations while having tea, sometimes inviting Tomas to join. You’d laugh, smile, sulk, and cry, all in front of Kuai Liang. He made you feel wonderful and to hurt him by accident would kill you. You wouldn’t hurt him on purpose of course but the flames that run through you wouldn’t hesitate to burn his skin.

So you try to keep yourself composed, even fearing good emotions would make you flare up. Good or bad it doesn’t matter; any strong emotions could set you ablaze. You know that because you accidentally used your powers while you two meditated.

You just wanted to take a quick peek at Kuai Liang, one wouldn’t hurt. You opened one eye and looked over at Kuai Liang who was kneeling next to you. His face looked peaceful with the way his eyes were closed. You looked down at his chest and saw how it slightly moved with each breath he took in and let out. Don’t forget to take a look at those muscles. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the gorgeous man beside you and feel grateful for what he’s done. Then you felt it. You felt that burning, tingly feeling that spreads across your skin when your powers start acting up. You looked down to see the palms of your hands were on fire like two little bonfires. You gasped without thinking and closed your hands tightly. The flame extinguished for now. It would come back if that feeling in your chest kept swirled. You closed your eyes, not noticing Kuai Liang looking at you, and went back to meditating. You focused on getting rid of that warm feeling in your chest.

He noticed, of course. He saw the black smoke that arose from your hands. The dark color of that smoke could only come from fire. It clicked in his head and that gut feeling made sense. You were a pyromancer, just like him. He didn’t know what to feel. He felt kind of hurt that you hid this from him. It would be unfair to hold this fact against you since Liu Kang didn’t disclose it to him. Then he started to wonder if that was the true reason you needed assistance. It would explain why Liu Kang brought you here instead of the Wu Shi to help with your emotions.

He gets it now but he won’t say anything yet. If it is true, he doesn’t want to disturb your peace. It’s best to finish the meditation session and then confront you.

After you both were done, Kuai Liang was about to ask you something you got up and walked swiftly out of the room. You didn’t give him time to get back on his feet. You held your head low as you slipped into your temporary room. Just like that, it was like how you used to live. Cooped up and too afraid to be near people.

Kuai Liang got up and started walking down the halls. He guessed you would run back into your room. He was there in under a minute and was knocking at your door.

“…yes?” You called back.

“You ran out of the room pretty quickly. Is something wrong?” He asked.

You could tell he knew something was wrong by the tone of his voice. You debated with yourself if telling him the truth would do any good. It’s not that easy to explain you can produce fire.

“I’m just tired. I’ll be fine in a few hours. Don’t worry about me.” You were trying your best to get him to leave you be.

He sighed at your dismissive attitude but what could he expect? You were hiding this for a long time, you clearly don’t want anyone to know. It would be unwise to leave this issue untouched that’s why he needs to discuss this with you. From the looks of it, he could easily mistake you for someone who just discovered their abilities. He has no clue that you have been dealing with this all your life.

“Okay. Be sure to come out for dinner. I want to talk to you once dinner is finished.” And with that, he finally left.

You were left a nervous wreck in your room. You thought all your progress was reversed and you were back to square one. You knew it, you knew this would happen. The moment you got close to someone you started burning up. You flopped face-first onto your bed and groaned out loud. Things are just never easy for you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Great, now Kuai Liang was struggling to catch you.

After he said he wanted to speak with you his mind immediately started working on a plan for you. He wanted you to figure out how to be a pyromancer and he would train you like he was trained. After that, you definitely won’t feel the need to hide your powers.

But you never came. After dinner, you went right back into your room. He came knocking at your door and you ignored him by pretending to be asleep. No matter, he’ll just catch you tomorrow.

…yeah no.

Kuai Liang wasn’t going to force you out of the room. He wants to keep you calm since you were unable to control your abilities. It was frustrating to him that he had no other way to get you out. He tried talking to you through the door but you would either stay quiet or give him short answers.

“I only want to help you.” He yelled through the door.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you need help with your pyroman-“

“I have no idea what you are talking about!”

You’d deny having any pyromancy abilities. You didn’t want him to help you out of fear that he would get hurt. He’d sigh before leaving you alone.

He hates to do this to you but he might have to catch you off guard. You can’t stay cooped up in your room all day. You eventually have to eat. He knows you’ve been sneaking out just to nibble on some snack when you think no one is looking. He knows you’re stuffing your cheeks with tangerines, don’t lie. Nobody eats ten tangerines in one sitting except you.

All he can do is wait for now.

The sun had set and the moon began to rise. All was quiet with the occasional cricket chirping. Right on schedule you were creeping out of your room quietly. You did manage to control your fire a little. You were using your finger as a candle to guide your way around. You were in the kitchen area in under a minute. You grabbed those tangerines like you’ve been starving for days. The lights suddenly flicked on. In your most vulnerable state, you were caught with a bunch of tangerines in your arms and your finger lit. Who was the person who caught you in the act? Why it was the Shirai Ryu’s grandmaster, Kuai Liang.

You curled your finger up and extinguished it by closing your hands. You slowly put the tangerines back like that was the problem here.

“I knew you had pyromancy abilities. Why did you hide it?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Your finger was on fire.” He replied bluntly.

“Just leave this alone please.” You begged.

“I will not. You have to let me help you. I can teach you to control it. Controlling it involves your emotions being stable, yes, but it also involves physical control. You have to control where it goes.”

“No!” You blurted out.

You surprised Kuai Liang. This was the first time you ever raised your voice. It was also nighttime and the deafening silence was interrupted by your plead. You immediately felt bad and decided to tell him the truth. It’s the least you could do.

“I don’t want you to help me because…I don’t want to hurt you. I’m scared of hurting others. That’s why I’ve hidden it all my life. I really like you and I don’t want to end up hurting you because I struggle to keep emotions under control.”

At that moment the skin on your arms began to tingle and your hands started to produce embers. You looked at Kuai Liang who was calm. Even as your hands started to catch fire he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he walked closer even though you pleaded with him to stay away from you. You backed away from him until your back hit the kitchen counter. You thought you would cry because you were so frustrated with yourself. You were upset with how your life had turned out and now the one good thing you had was about to be ruined. That’s what you thought before Kuai Liang took hold of your wrist and placed his other hand next to yours. You watched as his hand caught fire. It was hotter and brighter than the fire you produced. Little embers from both your hands danced in the air before dying out. You stared in awe at the sight before you.

Kuai Liang was a pyromancer, duh.

“Oh…” The realization was setting in.

“As I said before, I can help you.”

He folded his hand over yours, extinguishing both your flames. He held your hand in his, squeezing it to make sure you got the point that this was real.

“I had absolutely no idea.”

“Now you know. I hope this will help prevent you from running away from me next time.”

Your eyes shifted down in shame. This could have been figured out sooner if you weren’t so afraid. Kuai Liang doesn’t blame you luckily. You thought you were alone in this world. You clearly aren’t.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized.

“I accept your apology. Now that you know I can properly teach you how to control yourself. Soon, you will be a greater pyromancer than me.”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m pretty late with this.” You joked.

“It is never too late. Get some rest. In the morning I will start training you.” Kuai Liang slowly let go of your hand, also hesitant to do so.

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. You had nothing to fear in the end. You were just being silly at this point. But things will be different now. You have a real chance to get a hold of your life and be better than ever. Maybe you will be just as great as Kuai Liang.

Oh all of this is so exciting you just might—

Fwoosh

Oops, you caught fire again.

Kuai Liang ran back to you and took hold of your hand. You calmed down and the fire that surrounded your body died down. You actually startled Kuai Liang with that.

“Perhaps you should stay in my room for tonight. I need to keep an eye on you.”

Yap notes: Kuai Liang and Guatemala have failed me on the same day. What kind of cruel joke is this. I promise I'm not mad what are you talking about? Also sorry if the first part seems to be different than the second. I started it, wasn’t feeling, and came back to it way later. Yes I did started craving tangerines hella bad how could I not—🍊🦊HEY! HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK IN MY DEN?! PAY YOUR RENT! Adiós!

[hugsandchaos]

Danny in an Encanto crossover gives the impression of someone trying to befriend a stray feral cat and bring them inside to give the love and shelter, but the stray feral cat doesn’t trust them and keeps hissing every time they get too close.

Although, I’d love to see everyone being completely accepting of Danny. They don’t look at him with suspicion or hatred when they see him slip up, they’re amazed! He has powers just like the Madrigals? That’s super cool! And he has more than one? Not just phasing through solid objects, but also invisibility and sensing ghosts nearby? Even better!

I bet that Bruno would relate to him in a way. They were both looked down on for their powers, but in different ways. Bruno because he mostly predicted bad things with no control over it, and Danny because a lot of people, including his parents, really didn’t like “Phantom” because the sole reason that he was a ghost. Alma knew that it was Bruno who had the powers, Danny’s parents didn’t know he was the ghost they keep shooting at.

Also, Danny 100% defends Bruno from any villagers who blame him for having bad visions. Bruno’s lacked social interaction with other humans for ten whole years, but Danny’s up for fighting for him. His favorite line to use was “If I’m a child and I have to explain this to you, what does that say about you as an adult?”. He didn’t get in trouble for it.

Danny talks about space and teaches them about it! He’s more than happy to explain it all and answer their questions the best he can!

Danny eats Julieta’s food and is honestly freaked out because his ribs are suddenly not broken anymore. Take it a step further and say that he’s sleep deprived, and one of the side effects of having food that heals you is that it can make you really tired if you haven’t slept well for a while, so you can’t help but take a quick nap. So he just falls unconscious after a few bites and wakes up in the early morning not knowing what year it is.

It doesn’t get rid of his death mark, though, which confuses everyone. Speaking of his death mark, Danny doesn’t like to talk about it, but eventually explains that it’s a scar from being zapped. He doesn’t go into detail or talk about what exactly the incident did to him, though. He just mentions that he got zapped and has a scar from it.

Eventually, the Madrigals will come to the realization that he doesn’t just have ghost-like powers. He’s actually a ghost. Half ghost, at least.

Also, Danny swears he sees Pedro around the house, not just in the paintings, and the most often place is by Alma’s side. He’s even had conversations with him. To everyone else, it looks like he’s talking to thin air, but he seems so fixated on something that’s actually there and listens to nothing so much that they think he’s actually being serious. Once, during a conversation with Alma and she was telling him about Pedro, he looked at her very confused and said “What are you talking about? He’s standing right next to you”.

At first, she was upset, but he said it with way too much confusion and conviction that she starts to realize he’s serious. Every time someone says that he isn’t, Danny gestures to nothing and goes “Are you blind?! He’s right there!”. In his eyes, Pedro really is there, looking awkward because this kid sees him and is arguing with his family about it.

Honestly, Danny doing something by himself and then suddenly turning around and making immediate direct eye contact with Pedro would be really funny. Pedro is honestly freaked out because something seemed off with the kid from the beginning, and he just made eye contact with a ghost?

Oh, and you best believe that after being treated so nicely by everyone, Danny will start throwing hands the second another ghost tries to cause them trouble.

Make it even better by combining it with Good Vlad. The two just show up one day trying to find a place to live. Their dynamic confuses more than a few people because people usually treat their god father or technical uncle with love and respect. Danny’s constantly getting on his nerves for the fun of it, doing things including but not limited to taking his coffee. He also calls him a “fruit loop”, which apparently means someone insane. Vlad calls him “Little Badger”, and yes, he’s actually been bitten by Danny once because Vlad startled him when he grabbed him to pull him out of danger and Danny’s first instinct was to bite him.

[consistencynevermether]

Ice cold: Astarion x reader

content: ascended Astarion x gn tav, angst, tav is goin through it in this one yall, i give karlach a more hopeful ending in the background bc i just want her to be happy, karlach and tav besties agenda, sfw, cannon typical violence

summary: after breaking it off with ascended Astarion, you meet again at a winter ball

word count: 6k (apparently i cant shut up about this man)

a/n: man i gotta write more happy Astarion content fr i keep putting this man in situations.

How many years had it been since you’d seen Astarion? 3? 5? Maybe more? You try to remember what your last moments with him were like before you decided to break things off. It was definitely after he ascended, but was it before you had gotten rid of the tadpole, or after? Honestly, after a while things had started to blur together really. After so many years, only the painful parts remained clear in your memory. How you, with tears in your eyes, had told him you couldn’t do this anymore. And the look of condescending and uncaring as he stared back. It had shattered you into a million pieces to end things with Astarion, but it would have hurt even more if you had stayed. Whoever he had become after he ascended, it wasn’t your astarion, not really.

Why were you reminiscing about your lost love? Well because after all these years apart, he was now standing about 5 feet away from you. Gods above how did you get yourself in this situation?

Let’s start a few years back after Astarion had left to be the new lord of Baldur’s Gate and you had stayed, shattered. Having to pick up the broken pieces of what you once were, having to figure out who you would be without him. You probably should have taken some time alone, now that you think about it. Processed your emotions, talked to a professional, properly mourned what you had lost before continuing on.

Of course, you had done the opposite and instead had decided to travel with Karlach and Wyll to Avernus. Going to hell is probably not the best way to cope with a breakup, but that was the only option anyone could think of to try and save Karlach from the fate of the engine in her chest. And after what had happened to Astarion you just-

You just couldn’t 

You couldn’t lose someone else, if you did, you felt like you would have been shattered past the point of repair. You couldn’t take losing one of your only friends right after losing your love. So you gathered up the broken pieces of yourself and headed straight into the hells. 

You were down there for a few years probably. 

Maybe? 

Honestly, you didn’t remember. Time became sluggish and foggy after Astarion had left because it kept marching forward, away from your time together with him.

Yet in the end, Karlach had gotten her engine fixed and all 3 of you had climbed out of hell. A few more burn marks and scars, but nothing more than that had changed. Physically at least.

You had somehow managed to put your broken pieces back together, but you weren’t the same as before. You didn’t feel complete, more like a jumble of razor-sharp shards being forcefully welded together trying to imitate what you once were. But now you were jagged, and cracked, and tired

Gods, you were tired. The dark circles under your eyes never left, no matter how much you slept. Or tried to sleep that is.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you would replay Astarion's ascendance in your mind over and over again, wondering what you could have done differently then. Or even before. Where had you gone wrong? Was there another outcome that you failed to make happen? Was there another reality where the two of you were happy together? Gods how that thought hurt. 

 Sometimes, you thought about the what-ifs. You imagined what would have happened if he hadn’t chosen to ascend. What both of you could have been. What you so desperately wanted but could never reach. Eventually, you stopped that line of thought at night. It was too crushing to imagine how things could have been different. What you could have done differently. 

After emerging from hell, you had on and off traveled with some of your previous party. 

You and Wyll had headed to Waterdeep once to help Gale with a sea monster problem 

In an amusing team-up, you had helped Halsin and Lazel find an enchanted bracelet they were both searching for, though they both argued on how to act upon most things during that entire adventure, so you had felt almost like it was a babysitting gig the entire trip. 

There was also that time you helped Minsc dispose of some bandits robbing people near Baldur's gate, but you had dealt with that sorry lot fairly quickly and got far away from Baldur's Gate even quicker. You didn’t want to accidentally run into a certain lord. 

And now you had an entirely new quest, in the bitter cold land of Sossal. A few weeks ago, you met back up with Karlach who apparently had been looking for you.

It’s not that you disliked seeing Karlach at all, in fact, you were both very close, which was part of the problem really. Part of why it stung a little to see her. 

She saw you. She saw how much you hurt even after all this time. Your other friends seemed to have assumed that you had gotten better. That over time you had healed and it had gotten easier for you to come to terms with leaving Astarion. But Karlach knew the truth, She saw right through you, and it was mortifying. That every day the hole inside your heart had just got wider. She feared it would swallow you up one day, and you didn’t blame her. It didn’t help that being around her just made you feel so

Pathetic. 

She had been to literal Hell and back and could still smile and laugh, while you had only lost one person and had cracked and splintered like glass. It hurt to see the light that shined off her while you could only fall deeper into darkness. 

Of course, you knew none of that was her fault, you only had yourself to blame for who you were, so when she came asking for help, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

She was having engine troubles again. It wasn’t as bad as before, thank the gods, but it did have a tendency to overheat ever so slightly whenever she felt a strong emotion, and if you didn’t do something one wrong spook could set her ablaze. Luckily she had gone to Gale first and discovered a gem Called the frostbite tear. He could attune the gem to Karlach and make it so that every time her engine began to overheat, the jewel would immediately cool it down, negating the problem before it became a real issue like when you had first met her. Last anyone had heard of the gem it was with some noble in Sossal. 

So here you were. You, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale all together at the midwinters ball held here in the capital. Gale had procured the invites for you all, and every noble in Sossal, plus some from other territories, would be here for this celebration. Gale had even been nice enough to give you a beautiful outfit for the ball, made of silvery-white sparking silk. It reminded you of fresh snowfall on a winter's night. Admittedly it wasn’t very practical, and Gale did make you shower before putting it on. (Rude. You didn’t think you smelled t h a t bad.)

You were so focused on helping find this noble (and robbing him of the frostbite tear) that you hadn’t even considered Astarion might be here. 

Not up until the moment that his vibrant red eyes locked onto yours across the room. 

You couldn’t move. Everything was moving too fast and also in slow motion. Your legs felt like lead and your mouth was bone dry. The numbness that had settled in your chest for years now cracked open with new pain, and you weren’t sure which of the sensations you hated more. 

All all this panic and emotions, and yet in your mind all you could think of was how he looked just the same as the day you left. He hadn’t changed. And that made it all the harder. Because now it was easier to forget all the years between you two. He still looked the same as what you saw when you closed your eyes each night. It was Astarion. But on closer examination, not your Astarion. 

There was a coldness to him now. A certain reservation in his smile that made you feel like you would be a mere annoyance to him if you dared to approach. He seemed sharper somehow as well, like a finely honed blade. And his attire was extravagantly beautiful, the white fur-lined cloak he was wearing was probably more expensive than anything you had ever owned, including your current attire. 

You were so busy taking this all in mentally that when you went to glance at him again he was gone. For a split second, you genuinely wondered if you had finally snapped and just hallucinated all of that when an all too familiar hand took yours. 

You hadn't looked away for more than a second and astarion was right there in front of you, kissing your knuckles. The brush of his lips on your skin was nearly enough to bring you to your knees. All these years, and he still had so much power over you with one little motion.

To any outsider, this looked like quite the cute interaction really. The handsome new lord of Baldur's gate spots an incomparable beauty from across the room and is instantly smitten, so he effortlessly woes them the second he steps into the ballroom. But life is no romantic play. 

“Hello darling, it certainly has been a while. We simply must catch up” 

Before you could even attempt to respond, his hands were around your waist, guiding you to the dancefloor as the orchestra began to play, and other couples began to join the dancefloor as well. 

You’d hoped maybe the dance would save you from the conversation, but it seemed the opposite was what occurred, as Astarion leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “So, 7 years without a trace, and suddenly you show up looking positively exquisite. Do tell me what you’ve been up to.” 

Your mouth opens to respond, but you realize you have no idea what to say. What could you possibly say to him, and why would you even say it? 

Luckily you were spared any more torture when you noticed Astarion staring intently at your neck. The sight reminded you of that night you found out he was a vampire spawn, and you had let him drink from you for the first time. But instead of hunger Astarions brown was furrowed with another emotion. Annoyance? Concern? Worry? You couldn’t tell anymore. It had been years since you could tell what Astarion was thinking

His voice broke the silence once again. 

“Is this new?” His long pale fingers brushed across the burn scar near your collarbone.

Ah. So that’s what he was staring at. 

“Well it’s been there a few years, so I wouldn’t really consider it new but-“ you shrug at the end of your sentence, and you both know what you meant. It was only new to him. He may have stayed unchanged all these years, but you certainly hadn’t. And it seemed Astarion was beginning to notice. 

His eyes raked over you, taking in the changes. You were a bit more muscular now, all that constant fighting no doubt. Your new(er) scars were more visible in this outfit, which admittedly was a little revealing and definitely not meant to withstand the harsh outside winter. And the years now showed in the tired look in your eyes. You imagine that your eyes aged you quite a bit honestly, maybe you should be shocked he even recognized you now. 

“So”, he started, decidedly keeping his hand firmly around your waist so you couldn’t run from the conversation, “when you made my undead heart beat again only to toss it on the ground at my feet again like it was nothing all those years ago, I always imagined how nice it would feel to see you struggle while I thrived as lord of Baldur's Gate.” 

Wow. Impressively bad flirting. Had he gotten worse at this over the years? Or maybe he just detested you so much he didn’t even think there was a point in even pretending to like you anymore. 

“But now that I’m actually here and you look-“

He gestured at you vaguely 

“Well a bit like you’d been the one who got dumped, it doesn’t feel very satisfying.” 

“Mhm,” you responded, in a stroke of pure poetry. 

“Darling, you have to give me more than that. The silent treatment after all this time is just petty, even for me.”

He had a point. And part of you did want to know-

“How have you been, Astarion?” 

His steps faltered a little when you said his name, but he quickly recovered, smoothly continuing the dance 

He smirked, his fangs visible on one side “Well certainly better than you if I had to wager, the stuff under my eyes is eyeliner, not sleep deprivation side effects.”

You close the distance between you two involuntarily to get a closer look at his face. He was wearing some sort of golden liquid as eyeliner on his bottom lids. It was subtle but beautiful, and it shined when the light hit his face just right. On instinct, you began to reach towards his face, but you quickly stopped yourself. You needed to stay focused, damnit. You were here to help Karlach.

Astarion's smooth voice cut in once again. “Still making me do all the talking? Honestly, I don’t ever remember you being this quiet before.” 

You startled and realized you had been staring at his face for a while, and then trying to snap yourself out of it, all while not making a sound

Gods you don’t remember it being this hard to talk to him. But then again, you found it harder to talk to anyone these days. you just-

You just didn’t expect that to also apply to Astarion. Further proof that despite him looking the same, there was distance now. A silent gaping chasm that you had no way to cross. But that is what you wanted, wasn't it? To get away from this Astarion. The one who considered you a pet, or an object to be displayed. Treasured, and loved, but never his equal. Never fully having free will, everything you would have done would have had to be something he approved of. 

You loved him, more than anything. You still did. Deep down you knew you would die for this twisted version of your love, and if he asked you to rip out your own heart and serve it to him, you would. But you couldn’t be with him. Everything else you would do for him, but that was where you drew the line. It hurt too much, to be reminded every day of what you had lost. Of what you have failed to protect. That sweet high elf with a silver tongue and a heart of gold he let so few see. The one who wished for freedom more than anything, but still stuck by your side. Because at some point, he wanted to be free with you. And that was not this Astarion. 

Despite all that, just for this moment, you wanted to forget it all. To be held in his arms once again. Maybe, if the gods blessed you, see a real smile of his. You just wanted this one moment. Then your greedy heart would be satisfied. You could burn this image of the two of you dancing forever in your mind and have it sustain you. You’d gladly take another trip to the hells if it meant just a moment where you could pretend you were with your astarion. The one that lived on in your memories. Though you didn’t dare hope that he was still in there somewhere, you don’t think your heart could take it. 

You inhale deeply and begin to talk. You tell him about the quests you’ve been on, the adventures you’ve had, what you’ve been up to these past years. Including why you were here, and your quest to help Karlach and find the frostbite tear.

Eventually, you get to the point where you tell him why you're here, and what you're looking for. But as you do you see a scowl twist on his face. 

“Astarion?” You question, “What’s bothering you?”

He huffs in reply, and you can’t help but smirk. 

“I’m sorry but I do remember someone just talking about how petty the silent treatment is.” You prod, and lock eyes, a sign for him to tell you what’s on his mind

He rolls his eyes at your persistence, but nonetheless, he begins to speak. 

“Hm. Just seems like you and Karlach are so very happy together. A bit of a downgrade if you ask me, but that’s certainly no fault of hers. I mean, once you’ve had me, all you can do is go down from there.” 

“Karlach and I aren’t dating.” You deadpan. 

She was more like a sister to you than anything, and besides you’re pretty sure she already has eyes for someone. 

“Oh?” Astarions eyebrow raises. “So who have you been shagging all these years then? Wyll? Shadowheart? Surely not Gale. Oh please tell me it’s not Gale, I think that might actually hurt my feelings a little if we both shared being to your tastes.” 

“Be nice. Gales is a good friend. FRIEND. They all are. And to answer your prying question, I’m not with anyone. Not since you.” 

It was true. You hadn’t loved anyone since astarion. It just didn’t feel right. Even the idea of a casual fling didn’t feel at all satisfying. And there was no way you would actually consider dating someone again. Not when Astarion still held your heart. 

You could see a few emotions go across Astarion’s face, but you couldn’t recognize them. You remember when you used to be able to know what he was thinking, when he was lying or not. But not anymore. Maybe it was because he was always putting on some act now. 

As you stared, his hand wrapped around your waist and for a breathless moment, he effortlessly lifted you up into the air, gently twirling you around him. then he put you down and smoothly continued the dance as if that was always part of the steps. 

Your face flushed at the amount of contact, and the smirk once again graced Astarion’s lips.

“So, nobody since me? Seems like someone’s not quite over the Lord of Baldur’s Gate.” He singsonged, taking great pleasure in how momentarily flustered you were. “It's ok if you're not over me darling, I can’t blame you.” 

Clearly, he meant this as a joke, one you were supposed to roll your eyes at and ignore. But there was no point in lying, so you just nodded and continued the steps of the dance. 

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks. 

“I-

Wait what? You're still-

Ah- 

You're not over me?” 

“Astarion, the song isn’t over.” You tried to nudge him back into the dance, but his feet were planted firmly, and he wasn’t going to budge. 

“Answer me.” 

You sigh. He wasn’t going to move. So now you were just standing here. In the middle of a ballroom. With everyone else dancing around you. Great. This was super inconspicuous and undercover. 

“I will only continue to talk if you move your damn feet Astarion. Hells I’m supposed to be blending in not standing out.” You hiss and kick at the side of his shoes to indicate for him to get moving.

He recognizes the determination in your eyes and you can see him deciding mentally that he’ll probably get his answer sooner if he does as you ask, so he picks up the dance once again. His grip on your waist is now like iron though, not painful in any way, but there’s absolutely no way you could get out of his grasp now. Not even if you put all your efforts into trying. 

His eyes never left yours, his intense stare practically commanding you to talk.

Which you did say you would do. 

“I still love you.” You shrug. “Never stopped loving you.”

“Then why did you leave?” The hurt in his voice is evident, and you immediately feel like someone hurled a spear of ice directly into your chest. 

You can barely raise your voice above a whisper without it cracking. “You know why. I already told you when I left.” 

“Bullshit. Because you loved the person that I was? He was pathetic. Only a fool would want the lesser version.” His voice was like ice, you could feel the hatred he held for himself.

And you instantly felt your anger flare up at his words.

“Don’t you ever talk about-

About him like that”

It felt weird referring to past Astarion as someone else. But it was true. They were two completely different people now. And honestly, you didn’t care about the semantics, your blood was practically boiling. 

“He was the love of my life. He was everything to me. So don’t you dare insult him.” You spat, practically seeing red

Astarion's face twisted in rage. 

“Maybe you liked me pathetic, hm? Maybe the only way you could possibly love me was if I was beneath you. A precious pet spawn, entirely dependent on you, living in your shadow to protect me from the sun that I now bask in.” He sneered, meeting your rage with his own.

And just like that, you had shattered all over again. 

It was your turn to stop dancing now, unmoving in the sea of swaying nobles. 

Astarion's rage seemed to have flickered out seeing the look on your face.

What did your face look like? Were you shocked? Were you crying? Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could register the feeling of hot tears down your cheeks, but you paid it no heed. 

Instead, you wrapped your arms around Astarion, putting your face in the crook of his neck. 

Astarion completely froze at the sudden contact, not even taking a breath. Although he probably didn’t need to actually breathe anyways so maybe that was normal.

“I’m sorry. If-

-If you truly believe that I ever thought that way about you, then I messed up beyond repair. I'm so sorry.” 

You tried to continue, to apologize for all the times you had failed him. For making him feel like that. But you realized you couldn’t speak. Your body was silently heaving with sobs, tears flowing down your face and ruining Astarion's nice clothing.

Great. You couldn’t even cry without screwing him over. And this was definitely not inconspicuous. 

You lifted your head, making a move to step away, but as you did you saw a blue glint on one of the lapels of some well-dressed lord.

Holy shit.

The frostbite tear. You had found it. And all it took was sobbing on your ex to spot the damn thing. That didn’t make you feel pathetic at all. Though admittedly this was the perfect distraction from this soul-crushing conversation. Maybe with any luck you wouldn’t even have to address that embarrassing display that no doubt disgusted astarion, he was probably hoping you’d get the hell off him already.

So you did just that, jerking back from the hug and keeping your eyes glued on the gem. 

“Astarion look. It’s the frostbite tear. On that lord.”

But you could tell Astarion’s eyes were firmly glued to your face. 

You tried to slip away, to follow the frostbite tears owner and relieve him from its ownership, whether that be by swiping it, lying, or just straight up threatening the guy. But Astarion held you firmly in place. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered, to not startle your target. “He’s right there. Let go.”

“You can’t just drop that on me and leave” he whisper-yelled back 

“I’m not leaving, I’m just grabbing something real quick. Now let go, it’ll take 5 minutes tops.”

“What if you decide you don’t wanna talk again and run off?” He countered 

“Then you can corner me because you're the vampire ascendant.” 

“What if he catches you and you get arrested?”

“Then you can visit me in jail because you're the vampire ascendant.” 

“What if-“

Oh for fucks sake. 

“Whatever happens, I assure you, you will be able to say whatever you want to me after because you are the vampire ascendant. You made that fact very clear to me when we were together. Now let go.” You cut him off, and then try once again to move towards the target. But his grip remained firm 

You look up at him, now filled with annoyance and desperation. The noble could escape if you didn’t do something now, and yet Astarion seemed insistent on trapping you. 

“Just one more dance, alright?” He bargained.

Unbelievable. That was his priority? You knew it had been a while but you never expected him to disregard a former ally so blatantly. Karlach needed this. 

But upon closer inspection, he almost looked… a little guilty? Worried maybe? That didn’t seem right. What on earth?

Just then, Astarion pushed your face into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, almost protective. Protective but restrictive. You couldn’t move away no matter how much you pushed on his chest or tried to slip out of his hold. 

“Astarion. Let. Go.” You hissed.

But your attempts at breaking free immediately stopped when you heard an ear-piercing screech and the sound of heavy footsteps. 

On instinct, you reached for where your weapon would normally be, but you had nothing on you. Shadowheart had a few small weapons concealed on her in case things got messy, considering her attire was a bit more conservative than yours, but she wasn’t anywhere near you now. 

Damnit. On instinct, you tried to twist around in Astarion's grasp to a more protective stance. Of course, you knew he didn’t need your protection at all, it was just a base instinct kicking in. Unfortunately, he didn’t allow you to move out of his grasp, so all you could do was squirm. 

“What is wrong with you??” You practically shouted. If there was danger, then just standing here like this would leave you both wide open. Had he lost all common sense? 

Unless- 

At that exact point, a guard of the lord of Sossal burst through the doors, covered in blood. 

“Vampire spawn are attacking the gates!” She exclaimed, cradling her arm, which was profusely bleeding. 

“I didn’t know you would be here.” He murmurs, almost as if he’s telling this to himself more than you. 

He wasn’t trying to keep you here, you realize. He was protecting you. None of the spawn would dare come near you if they saw Astarion holding you like this. 

But at this moment you didn’t care. For years you had mourned over the loss of your Astarion. You had tried so hard, attempting to separate him from this ascended Astarion. But you had never been truly able to get over him, to accept he was gone. Because deep, deep down, no matter what you told yourself, you still believed he was in there somewhere. Behind all the silks and sharp gazes.

And you felt that hope die as you heard the hissing of the dozens of spawn outside, mingled with the screams and cries of the guards. He was gone. And your heart was shattered all over again. 

But it was different this time. Before, you had pulled yourself together again, deformed and jagged, but still together. You couldn’t do that this time. There was no coming back from this. You could feel it. This pain wouldn’t fade. But there was something else there that wasn’t there before. Anger.

Astarion was protecting you, yes, but Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach were here too. If the spawn got into the ballroom, they would be in danger. Not to mention this made procuring the frostbite tear infinitely more difficult. 

Rage burned in your eyes, and for the first time, you saw the great vampire ascendant stumble over his words a little, as he tried to explain something about how the lord of Sossal had insulted him, but you weren’t listening. 

While Astarion was struggling to explain himself, you realized he wasn’t paying as much attention to you. Good.

In one swift movement, you slipped out of his grasp and frantically looked around, searching for your friends. It was nearly impossible to hear anything over the screaming and panic of the nobles. It also wasn’t helping that Astarion was probably going to be right on your heels the second he recovered. Or maybe he’d just leave you to be eaten by his spawn. You didn’t really care. 

After continuing to weave your way past frantic nobles and shouting their names, you were able to see a red hand waving you down from the far left balcony. It was Karlach, and she was with Gale and Shadowheart. Good. With all 3 of them together any spawn that came after them would be screwed. But you still had a mission to complete.

You looked up at Shadowheart and held your hand out for a weapon. You were going to track down that damn gem if it killed you. That noble was about to have a very bad day. Well. A worse day. 

You were focusing all your hurt onto this, all your rage. But you needed to. You needed it because you had no idea what else you could do now. You needed something to focus on. Something to distract you from your shattered heart. 

Shadowheart saw your determination and tossed a short sword down to you. Not your preferred weapon of choice, but it would do.

You whipped around, hand around the short sword at the ready, but also because it felt grounding, to be fighting once again. Now it was time to hunt down your prey.

You quickly ran in the direction you’d last seen, glancing over every lapel for that glowing blue light. It was hard, many of the nobles were dressed in a winter theme, so shades of white, silver, and blue were all too common in the sea of panic. 

You continued to push past nobles, searching for that faint blue glow. You refused to let this go, you would not let Karlach down. You fought for too many years in hell getting the engine in her repaired to go all the way back to square one again. 

You feel yourself tunnel vision on finding a blue light, your head whipping back and forth on the hunt, it felt good to let everything else fade away into numbness as your only thought is tracking down this gem.

A glimmer out of the corner of your eye. A flash of blue. The shine of fine silk. There he was. In a crowd of panicked nobles trying to run into other parts of the castle and hide from Astarion's horde gathering outside. Honestly, it was a pretty understandable reaction, you didn't blame him for running at all, but you needed that gem. You hope he survived honestly.

Survived.

Because Astarion planned to turn this place into a bloodbath. Your Astarion. The one who you had sat under the stars with, and he would teach you all the constellations whose names you didn't know, his silky voice lulling you to sleep when insomnia or worry had hit you. 

You'd rather still be in the hells honestly. 

You took a deep breath, centering yourself back to the present. Get the gem. 

You dashed after the noble, drawing your shortsword and charging at the man. If possible, you'd do this quickly.

Ducking under the other guests, you grab this unfortunate noble by the collar, the moment you do he screeches, clearly fearing the worst. Luckily for him, you were only after his gem, not his blood. With one slice you cut the gem off the cloak, shredding the beautiful white fabric. 

Not even bothering to explain yourself to him, you pocket your prize and turn on your heel, heading back in your friend's direction, when all of a sudden you hear the noble you had just stolen from scream again. But this time it was followed by the screams of a few others 

You look back and that’s when you see her. A vampire spawn. Clearly on her way to the ballroom, but judging by her smile, it was clear she had just found some horderves. 

You could have run. You were the only person with a weapon and the farthest away from her. She definitely wouldn’t pick you as her first target, she’d go for one of the defenseless nobles right next to her. You should have met up with the others and gotten the hells out of this place.

But the noble whose lapel you had just torn apart was so young. They were people. Scared people who got unlucky and were about to die because someone had offended the great vampire ascendant. Maybe you wanted to save them. But more likely, you just wanted something to take your anger out on. Or maybe you were just dumb as a rock.

But regardless you turned around and began to sprint towards the spawn instead of away, angling your weapon so that you would have the perfect angle to go for her collarbone. 

Yet as soon as you locked her on as a target, her eyes went wide with..fear? She was a vampire spawn, surely she’d had a few of her victims fight back yes? Was this her first hunt? 

Soon you realized that wasn’t the case at all as you felt a chill run down your spine. Even now with all his power, it wasn’t hard for you to identify the presence now standing menacingly right behind you. The familiar smell of bergamot filled your senses with the closeness. You could feel his chest pressed against your back. You didn’t know what kind of face Astarion was making right now, but whatever it was, it terrified the vampire spawn, her form now shaking and cowering before her master. 

Funny. Even now after everything, you couldn’t find astarion scary. You probably should, considering how he just appeared behind you. But after everything you still couldn’t. 

There was no point in delaying this any further. You turn around, and as you do his eyes immediately move from the spawn back to you. And his gaze softened. Before this whole ordeal that single action probably would have caused you to melt. But now it was different. You had already resigned yourself to being without him. You couldn’t turn back time. You couldn’t save him. All you could do now was try and find a way forward. And you certainly wouldn’t find that staring into his crimson eyes. 

This felt awful. You felt awful. Walking away from him now didn’t feel like closure, it felt like someone had just stopped writing on the page mid-sentence. But you had to stop. Just stop. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life like this, mourning what you lost. Astarion would have an eternity to forget about you, but you only had this one life. And for the first time in a long time, you finally felt like you wanted to move forward with your life. To start living again. You were still mad. And upset. And it still hurt. But you wanted to get better. 

So you turned around, not looking at Astarion, and left. Walked right past him without saying a word. You didn’t know what he would do. Let you leave and forget you ever existed? Grab your arm and try to talk again? Decide he had had enough and just drain you dry? You honestly had no idea anymore. But you knew one thing.

You wouldn’t be the one to look back.

[allllium]

Sleepy

[ Jason Todd x Reader ]

- Fluff, WC: 1005

- Jason struggles with comfort

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life. More than he's been comfortable telling you so far in your relationship.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God, Jason, you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf, pretty please." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want what's bothering you, and know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had." He rambles off as quickly as possible.

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

- send requests!!

[httpskuzuu]

Peace in the unknown

why have I never written for this man before? I love him

Fukuzawa x Reader

idk english

summary: Old scars decorate your skin. If only you had been more careful, they might still be hidden

tw: past self-harm, feelings of shame, overthinking

“They're horrible.” You try to laugh to throw the tension on your shoulders away from you, but that seems to be impossible. Your laugh is awkward, as if you've forgotten how to smile just like a human being. The way your face stretches, it feels more like a horrible grimace.

Fukuzawa just shakes his head.

Why did a date to drink tea as a couple turn into this? He still has his cup in one hand, but you've long since abandoned yours on the table, letting it freeze. The only thing your hands are focused on is covering your wrists.

Wrists painted by all kinds of sharp brushes. For stupid reasons that ate you up at the time. For the sheer pleasure of boredom, because doing nothing drove you to keep painting. And you have no excuse for Yukichi, not when he's seen everything underneath. He has seen the aggressiveness and sadness that have been tattooed on you. You shouldn't feel this shame, as if they have discovered your biggest secret. 

It shouldn't be a secret to him, but it still is.

You assume this makes you the worse partner. Hiding things you shouldn't from your lover. He has a right to know what's under your long sleeves, what has caused your skin to become so terribly blotchy.

“They don't look horrible to me.” His words completely cut off your train of thought. All you can think about is that he's lying. He lies to you out of pity. He pities you. He pities you that your lover is so weak-minded to have to resort to these things.

“You don't have to lie, Yukichi. I know they don't look good.” If only you had been more careful covering up, this wouldn't have happened. You could go on having tea without feeling the embarrassment falling on you.

“It's not about how they look, it's about the story behind it.”

You don't want to have this conversation. You're not ready for someone to talk about your scars because that would mean admitting that they exist, that they're there, etched in your skin forever, and that you can't get rid of them. The past still exists, whispering in your ear about things you wish you could forget forever, but they will never go away. Your decisions have already been made and there is no turning back.

“They were for nonsense, don't worry.”

“I doubt it was nonsense to you at the time.” Fukuzawa leaves the cup on the table, accompanying yours. Now, with his hands free, he squeezes yours. It's not a hard grip, you could pull away if you tried, but you don't. His hands are so warm and big compared to yours, it almost feels like he's hugging them.

Again the scars peek out. He caresses them, as gently as if he were touching the water without wanting it to alter.

“I don't know what you've been through, and I won't force you to tell me if you don't feel comfortable, but I want you to know that none of this seems horrible or ugly to me. On the contrary, I think it's admirable how you have moved on in spite of it all. Life is hard and your scars are just a reminder that that hasn't stopped you from continuing to live.” Your chest hurts listening to him. It compresses with every word that comes out of his mouth and your eyes fill with tears that you try not to shed.

“Yukichi...” Your voice comes out raw and clipped. The sobs come out of your throat so fast you can't stop them. Your chest really hurts. You just want to curl up and cry yourself to sleep.

He rises from his position on the other side of the table to approach you. He sits down next to you and puts his arms around you. He feels safe and comfortable, like being covered by many blankets. You probably ruin his yukata with your tears, but you can't help but collapse against him.

You just need a little time, just a little more, to tell Fukuzawa about your past. But for now, he's fine with just supporting you from unknowing.

[nethhiri]

Part 4

Warnings: sexual situations, dubcon

The man acknowledged you with a nod, staring at you with his bright blue eyes for some time before reaching for his hair and letting it down from his ponytail in a blonde explosion. The bowl was discarded on the floor, as he shrugged his arms from the sleeves of his clothes, revealing his muscular back and chest. His scarred arm caught your eye. You wondered what could hurt him. He seemed so bloodthirsty and strong. When you shifted your gaze, he was watching you. You felt heat rise in your cheeks at the embarrassment of being caught staring. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand and moved it down your throat. He grabbed the edge of the sheets you were holding tightly against yourself and you tried not to flinch. The man tugged lightly at the sheet. You knew he could rip it away from you if he wanted to. He was giving you an opportunity. Your gaze drifted down and your cheeks flushed again, relinquishing your hold on the fabric and causing it to drift down your shoulders.

Goosebumps traveled down your arms as the cool air hit your bare skin. Now you mirrored him with both of your top halves exposed. His hand was so large that when he grabbed your throat, he could push your chin up with his thumb, tilting your head up enough so that he could see the discomfort on your face. The smile that was never absent from his face made you shiver. It was so unnatural. And so was the weak laugh that left him. 

He took his hand from your throat and touched below your breast. He ran the rough pads of his fingertips over each rib he could see, then trailed them to your hip. It seemed as if he was appraising you, like a cut of meat. The man splayed his hand out flat against your sternum and pushed you down until your back was flush with the bed. He hovered over you, bending down towards your lower half without removing his hand. You tensed, anxious about what he would do. Your lower half was still covered for the moment. With his free hand, he lowered the sheet covering you until the top of your pubes were showing, but he stopped there. The man kissed the ridge of your hip bones, trailing kisses over your stomach and up to your breasts. He lingered there, every movement of his was slow and deliberate. In a way that, almost, but not quite, suggested that he was waiting for you to relax or push him away. 

There was a warm feeling blooming in your gut. Something deeper than your stomach felt like it was clenching and getting wound up in knots. The warm feeling traveled through your body followed by a shiver. You were conflicted. He was a stranger, yet the closest person you had had in your life for a long time. You weren't comfortable with him, yet he was your only comfort. It wasn't your choice to have sex with him, yet you wanted to show your gratitude and this was the only way you knew how. A part of you did find the man attractive, even though he was intimidating, or maybe because he was intimidating. You felt like if you did push him away, he might not continue, but you also got the feeling that he would become impatient and get rid of you if you didn't prove useful. Ultimately, you knew you were going to do whatever the man wanted, you were going to like it, and if you didn't, you would learn to. 

The man kissed both of your breasts, kneading one of them with his hand when his mouth was occupied with the other. A gasp surprised you by escaping your lips when his tongue flicked over your nipple. Another unnerving laugh came from the man. You weren't sure if he was laughing at your discomfort or if it was an involuntary response. The thoughts slipped from your head when he bit the just above the nipple, not hard, but hard enough. You let out a yelp as he did it to the other breast, reflexively swatting at him, as that bite was harder. It hurt. You knew it was a mistake as soon as you did it. 

The man roughly grabbed both your wrists in one hand and pinned them over your head. He had a feral glint in his eye that scared you, like you flipped a switch in him. The man kept biting you, over your breasts, your neck, your stomach. Sometimes he would kiss or suck instead. Your torso was covered in marks. You tried your hardest to keep any noises from coming out, but that didn't last very long. The man seemed to bite harder if you tried to be quiet. He seemed entertained by your squirming. How long was he going to do this for? Almost since the beginning, you could feel his erection through his remaining clothes pressing into your thigh.

Against your will, your body was responding to his touches, especially when he turned his attention to your neck. Each kiss was like fire that went straight to your groin. The subtle groans that vibrated against your skin evolved to include grunts and growls, the most sound you had heard from him in general. It took you some time to realize his increase in enthusiasm came from the fact his free hand was wrapped around his cock. One glance down had you anxious. He was certainly proportional, and although you were no virgin, it had been a while, and never with anything that big. 

The knot in your belly tightened when you felt the brush of his knuckles against your thigh and stomach as he stroked himself. You wished he would stop taunting you and get on with it. His sounds were intermingled with the disturbing cursed fruit laugh that made you uncomfortable. You also became aware of your knees rubbing together and your toes curling and uncurling in anticipation. It may be painful at first, but it may offer you some relief. Actually, it may not even be as painful as you might have first thought with the way your inner thighs were collecting moisture. How shameful, to be aroused when you didn't want it. Or did you? Your mind had conflicting thoughts with your body. 

More whines were pulled from you as the man moved back to your breasts, sucking and biting at the nipples. His hands were still holding your wrists. You wanted to feel the rough callouses touching elsewhere. You writhed under him with the limited amount of movement you were allowed. He was wearing you down. You wanted him to touch you at this point, anything to give you some kind of release with all the pressure building in your core. You wanted to ask, to beg, but you weren't sure how he would receive that. You opened your mouth to say something, when his mouth cut you off, moaning into yours. There was a hot, wet sensation on your abdomen as he came onto your stomach. Of all the things you were expecting, that was not one of them. 

As soon as he was finished, he grunted and rolled over with a sigh. What just happened? And why did you feel... disappointed? Left hollow? You shuddered as the air cooled the seed dripping from your stomach. Slipping from the bed, you found the basin again and wiped it off. The slippery mess made your lip curl. You felt ashamed and confused. Your heart raced as you slipped back into the bed. You thought sharing your name might buy you some sympathy or warmth from him, but he remained indifferent. The marks and bruises on your neck and breasts were sore. And yet, you wished he would have fucked you proper. It would have been over faster and you wouldn't be aching for release. Maybe that was his goal, to make you want it, so that you would beg him for it. But a criminal wouldn't care if you wanted it or not. He was already a murderer; why would he stop there? Unless it was part of him getting off. Or maybe he just wanted you to remain an object for his use. He takes care of you like a pet and in return you were to let him use you. It was stupid to try to apply logic to something illogical. You should plainly be glad that you were alive. 

The next day, he went off as he normally did in the evening. He left you unbound, correct in the assumption you were not going to move, both out of embarrassment of the red-purple marks over your skin, and the fact you refused to put on the clothes stained with blood. There wasn't anything to do. There was barely anything in the room, nothing to tidy up. You had tried to get the blood out of your clothes with the remaining water in the basin, but failed. There was no food to prepare. The only thing you could do was lay in bed and wait. 

You heard steps coming towards the room, but they were heavier than usual. You tensed and thought about hiding. What if it wasn't the man? The door opened to reveal the man's signature grin and blonde ponytail, but there was something off. He looked weighed down and his smile was pained. When he stumbled into the room, you could tell why. He had a gash from his shoulder to his hip. His clothing was soaked with blood. You were startled at the sight, and watched him slowly kneel at the bedside, resting his upper half against it. His breathing was ragged and pained. 

You were frozen until he turned his head enough for his electric blue eye to land on you. It was silently commanding you. You ran to the basin, frowning at the unclean water. It would have to do. You gingerly helped him take off his yukata. Then you poured the water over his back and used your stained clothes, that were nearly dry now, to clean the blood away. The fabric that was the most clean, you tore into strips to wrap around his torso. The man laughed and even you could hear the pain behind it. It wasn't a deep wound, but it was big. He sucked in a breath and pushed himself up, crawling the rest of the way into the bed. 

The man slept for two days. You had no idea what happened to him. You did your best to clean the wound with what you had, but that's about all you knew to do. Without him, there would be no food coming soon, but you thought of a plan. While the man was asleep, you peeked out of the door, watching for people to leave their rooms. A naked, angrily yelling woman ran out of one of the rooms, followed by a naked gentleman. Every now and then, some similar event would happen, and you had been banking on it happening again. Assuming no one else was there, you darted into the room and snatched all the clothes you could find, then ran back to the room. You laid everything out and were surprised, and a bit ashamed, to find that you had also picked up a small pouch of coins. You only meant to grab what was needed, not resort to straight up thievery. 

You chewed your lip and stared at the man. You threw on the woman's clothing and grabbed a small amount of coins. Would he be mad at you? Your stomach growled. Now that you were accustomed to eating every day, the lack of food was wearing on you. You paused before you left and grabbed the small knife that the man kept in his belt. The scythe was way too big and obvious for you, but you felt much safer with a weapon if he wasn't going to be with you. You were shaky as you reached for the door, but you were going to prove your use. 

It was overwhelming trying to decide what food to get as your gaze bounced back and forth between all the food stalls, but you figured he was probably going to be really hungry. Selfishly, you wanted to try some of the delicacies that you had never gotten to eat. You realized you were taking too long, so you hurried, bought a bunch of food, and rushed back to the inn. You were almost giddy coming back to the room with your skirts full of food. When you returned, the man was standing in the middle of the room holding one of his scythes, which was swiftly brought to your neck as you entered.  The man slowly cocked his head and dropped the scythe, realizing that it was you, and that you had come back. You moved gradually towards the small table in the room, dumping all the food you had gotten on the table while his icy eyes followed you. You sheepishly put the rest of the coins and the small knife on the table too. You watched his gaze slide from the table to you, calculating what all you had done. 

Your smile faltered, afraid now that he was going to be mad you left. The man reached for you and you closed your eyes, thinking he was going to hit you or choke you. All he did was lay his hand on your head. You opened your eyes, peeking through your lashes at him. The man's cursed grin grew wider for a moment and your cheeks flushed. Had you finally become useful? Did you do a good job?

The two of you ate in silence. He seemed to particularly enjoy watching you try things for the first time. You didn't know how you got this feeling, since his expression was almost always the same, but you did. His eyes were hungry when they looked at you, and not for food. You grew small under that gaze. The man offered his hand to help you up from the table when you were done. For a moment, he held your face in his hands. They slid down your shoulders, pushing your yukata down slightly. He paused and picked you up, tossing you on the bed. You bounced awkwardly and had just become oriented when he joined you, sliding his arms around you and trapping your back against his chest. You felt a nip at your neck and a large hand running up your leg. There was a rumble in his chest that reverberated against your back.

"Hitokiri Kamazo."

You looked back at him in surprise. You had only ever heard the unpleasant laugh. You didn't think he would ever speak to you, or that his voice would sound so alluring.

He turned your head towards him. "Say it." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

Next

Tag List: @nocturnalrorobin @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[jennifer-jeong]

Hi there :)

Can I request some headcanons about Xiao and Wanderer (separated) with an old s/o? Like, they've been together for decades, but reader is a mortal and they're not, therefore they don't have many years left to live now that they're in their 80s. I would like something sweet but feel free to add some angst in it.

HI ANON TY FOR YOUR ASK! Ok so I’m literally goiNG TO CRY because I actually purposely make my own self insert immortal because this makes me so depressed but dw I will make it a fluffy happy ending. I would be unwell if I didn’t make it a happy ending LMAO

Fluff + Slight Angst | Xiao/Wanderer x Reader Mortals

CONTENT Fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, HAPPY ENDING WOO, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

XIAO has been alive for longer than he can genuinely remember and most of it was spent suffering alone. He’s scarred so deeply that even until the end of time, the marks will never fade. He can’t get rid of his past but you came along and he realized he could at least start to heal from the centuries of pain. Your time together has been the best years of his life and it makes his heart ache to think that you’re about to come and go before even living for a fraction of his life. He’s watched your mortal body age but he still thinks knows that you’re the prettiest thing he’ll ever encounter. Xiao has always treated his time with you like it was limited, even when you were younger. He’s been getting desperate recently though, your body has slowed down, and you’re well into your elderly years. He’s always wanted to ask you if he and Zhongli could help you with this, return you to your younger body and help you live forever. But, he thought it would hurt you. Immortality is more of a curse than a blessing and he of all people should know that. But as your health deteriorated, he started to plan how to ask you without pressuring you. Honestly, when he finally brought it up, you giggled at him and said “I didn’t even know you could do that.” He blinked as he realized how much time had passed and how he really had been avoiding it all these years. It was just somewhat unfathomable to a 2000 year old being that all these fun years with you had already been a few decades. He explains why he felt bad suggesting it, but you quickly comforted him and thanked him for even bringing it up. You said you needed some time to think about it but you knew that you wanted more time with your beloved. It’s near impossible for most people to find their soulmate and so since you found yours, you wanted to somewhat selfishly hold onto him as long as you could. Of course he secretly felt the same though. Your time together might end soon as the traveller discovers the underlying mysteries of the world or it could end millenia later. Either way, you knew you’d be able to face it, together.

WANDERER has been through so much over the past few centuries of his life and he’s believed his emotions have been so useless to him as he isn’t even human. His suffering, pain, and desire never made sense because he always lacked a heart. He thought he’d be doomed to this forever until he met you. You breathed life into his mechanical body and into his new anemo vision heart. He felt truly alive with you, it was like he was freshly born as a real man when you came into his life. He took a while to properly warm up to you before he could express himself in a healthy way but you always had the patience for him. The problem was that he couldn’t have the same patience, not because he wasn’t a healthy partner, but because your life had a definite end. He was impatient because he couldn’t lose you and he didn’t know what else to do. He consulted Nahida/his mom about it and she suggested using his body as a template to create a body for you. One that would last forever with him. He was immediately overjoyed to hear that there was hope and he almost forgot to consider that you might not want to live forever. He probably tries to gauge if you would want to by prodding you with small questions but you see straight through him. You know something’s up, and you tell him that you know there’s enough trust between you two for either of you to speak freely. So he does. You take some time to debate it and decide to do it because even if at some point you can’t take it, you’d talk to him about it and come up with a solution (but you doubt that'll come up <3). There was a lot going on in Teyvat at the moment but just knowing that you’d have more time gave both of you peace. He was worried that afterwards you might not be the same, and that you might become emotionally hollow. But you knew that with him there, you’d never feel any less alive. Even without your physical body, you both had your souls, and it was all you’d ever need.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[anathemaspeaks]

pas de deux

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: [ˌpɑː də ˈdəː] a dance for two people, typically a man and a woman. word count: 1k warning(s): none (so much fluff i promise it's worth the read) a/n: i'm SO down bad for him HELP

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likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated <3

toji was not a romantic. the very idea made him scoff. the thought of getting soaked in the rain to meet someone was just absurd. what idiot would voluntarily fall sick for something as irrelevant as that. it baffled him, truly.

…

until he found himself standing at your door at four in the morning.

drenched to the bone, a strong arm raised to knock at your door. it took three tries, and you finally opened the door, hair tousled, eyes wide, and mouth agape.

you immediately ushered him inside, fretting over him. you gave him one of your largest hoodies (which still clung to his frame like a compression shirt), and a pair of loose shorts. you turned up the heater and gave him a blanket, forcing him to relax while you handed him a cup of hot coffee.

"toji, what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be asleep?" you inquired, worry etched onto your beautiful face and surprise evident in your voice.

"ya ain't getting rid of me that easy, doll" he replied while smirking, clearly trying to underplay his current state. he was still shivering from the cold, his wet hair clinging to his forehead.

you sat next to him on the sofa, moving closer and snaking your arms around his muscular torso, your warmth seeping into his cold body. you leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his jaw before snuggling closer, nestling into his broad chest.

he couldn't say he wasn't loving the attention, but that wasn't what he came here for.

you both were texting when you'd confessed that you weren't getting any sleep, and you were really stressed out as of late. you also revealed that the last time you had a comfortable sleep was with toji.

that was a whole week ago.

after that, he said he was going to sleep, ending the conversation with a 'goodnight doll, love ya.' you smiled at your phone before closing the message app, opting to scroll through instagram to keep your restless mind occupied - sleep was out of the question.

but of course toji was worried about his girl.

the concern gnawed at him. he couldn't stand the thought of you so helpless and distressed.

of course he couldn't - especially now that he knew he could help. he would rather die than see you in any kind of pain. and that's how he found himself soaked in the pouring rain, with only one goal in mind: to help you.

and now here he was, in your home, his strong arms finally wrapped around you.

"baby, i'm not complaining, but how come you're here?" you spoke, voice muffled because your face was squished against his body.

"y'said you only got sleep 'round me" he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. your heart lurched at his words. he ran for ten minutes through a rainstorm...all for your sleep?

"toji, i-…thank you" you choked, getting emotional. the night did that to you sometimes. but you just loved him so much. toji sensed it and let out a chuckle, the sound reverberating in your chest.

you could listen to that dumb laugh forever.

"you're getting soft, old man" you teased, a playful smile on your face. you didn't have that much of an age gap, but you never passed up the chance to bring it up.

he tutted. "y'want me to stay or not, brat?"

you giggled at his tone, burrowing deeper in the comfort of his presence, letting out a content sigh. from over his shoulder, you could see the sky clearing up, the rain slowly stopping. you saw it getting lighter, soft, golden rays striking toji's dangerously gorgeous face.

you looked at his lips, a content smile gracing his features, scar only emphasizing his already perfect looks. you trailed up to his eyes, warm, and filled with so much love and devotion it took your breath away. you could drown in them.

he couldn't stop staring at you, not when you looked this angelic. it was like the sunlight formed a literal halo over you - he was convinced you couldn't be real.

he looked into your eyes. the gears in your head were turning - he could see it.

"toji..."

"yeah, pretty girl?" he smiled, one that was so radiant it could put even the most magnificent sunrise to shame. your breath caught in your throat. he was so pretty.

...

"dance with me" you sighed, already pushing yourself up.

"it's 5 a.m., babe" he chuckled softly at your antics. you were always up to something.

"and? dance with me!" you demanded, taking both of his large hands into your own, trying to pull him up (and failing, miserably).

but he could never resist you. he wouldn't. you were his world. all you had to was ask, and toji would do it in a heartbeat. so he got up, buff arms enveloping you into his warmth once more.

"mmph- toji, needa play the music!" you said, voice obscured by his chest.

"we don't need music to dance, doll"

and so you stayed in his arms, his body gently rocking yours, moving to a beat only the both of you could hear. occasionally, he'd twirl you around, dipping you down to kiss you right after, just so he could hear your sweet laughs.

you don't know how long both of you danced for. you don't remember it, but you fell asleep in that very position - in his arms, while standing. you didn't even realize how exhausted you were.

you woke up in the comfort of your bed, still trapped in his arms, light snores escaping him. he must've carried you here. he was definitely going to fall sick, but honestly? he couldn't bring himself to care.

he might catch a cold, but in that moment, all that mattered was the gentle rise and fall of your chest, and the content smile gracing your gorgeous features.

toji was not a romantic. but for you, he would get soaked in the rain a million times. for you, he would do anything to put a smile on your stunning face. for you, he would do anything.

i love him i love him i love him i love him