#readerxcharacter

If Suguru was an asshole, then you didn’t even know what to call Satoru.

You stared in disbelief as he plucked the lone strawberry off your slice of strawberry shortcake and popped it into his mouth like he’d earned it.

At least if it had been Suguru, he would’ve offered you his.

“You’re being mean,” you told him flatly.

“Why?” he asked, already chewing, grinning at you like he’d just won the lottery—or in this case, the strawberry. “You cryin’?”

That only made you want to pout harder.

No one—not your ‘childhood friends’, not your classmates, not even your younger siblings (because God forbid anyone in your family ever lacked something; there was always an abundance of everything)—had ever treated you like this. Casual. Teasing. Slightly cruel in a way that wasn’t meant to wound.

It was weirdly nice.

And incredibly infuriating.

“Pig,” you muttered.

Satoru gasped, clutching his chest dramatically, then turned to Shoko. “She fat-shamed me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw your own brain.

Shoko, completely unfazed, gave you a thumbs-up and slid her own strawberry toward you. You declined quickly—partly out of pride and because she looked visibly relieved when you did.

Seriously. What was wrong with this friend group?

Currently, it was the six of you—well, sort of. Suguru, you, Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s two kids. Nanako, the blonde one, had immediately decided she liked you because you were “pretty,” announcing it boldly and without hesitation. Mimiko, brown-haired and shy, lingered close to Suguru, giving you a small wave from behind him when your eyes met.

Suguru had invited you along despite your initial protests about intruding. Satoru had insisted because he “already liked you,” because of the amount of liquor you could bring to the table—whatever that means.. And Shoko was just glad she finally had someone to talk to besides “these assholes.”

So now you were all at an indoor trampoline park.

You had tried to pay. Genuinely. But Satoru apparently took that as a personal challenge and escalated it into some unspoken competition over who could swipe their card faster. That was when you finally realized—this was the obnoxiously rich asshole Suguru had warned you about.

And now Satoru was paying for everything.

You sat at a small table, picking at what remained of your cake, watching Satoru shove the rest of his food into his mouth before sprinting off to rejoin Suguru and the kids. Suguru moved carefully, attention split between laughing with them and keeping them safe (his daughters—Satoru could go fuck himself), hands always ready to steady or catch.

You swallowed, something warm and unfamiliar settling in your chest.

Shoko exhaled slowly, the universal sound of a woman reevaluating her life choices, then looked at you.

“Come on,” she said, already standing. “You should jump too.”

“I’m good,” you replied automatically. “I’ll just—”

“Nope.” She said gently pushing you away. “I’ll watch everyone's stuff.”

You blinked. “Why are you so insistent? Do you want me to have that much fun?”

“Exactly,” she said flatly, already backing away. “Also, I need air.”

That’s when it clicked.

You’d noticed it earlier—the way she kept glancing toward the exit, the subtle impatience, the hands shoved into her pockets like she was itching for something.

Yeah. She was definitely slipping out for a smoke.

You opened your mouth to call her out, but she shot you a look that said don’t snitch and disappeared toward the doors.

Traitor.

With a resigned sigh, you made your way onto the trampoline floor just as Nanako spotted you. Her face lit up like you’d personally cured all her problems.

“You’re here!” she squealed, immediately grabbing your hand and bouncing with you whether you were ready or not.

You laughed despite yourself, adjusting quickly as she dragged you along, her energy boundless. She jumped higher than she should’ve been allowed to, hair flying everywhere, clearly fearless.

Mimiko, on the other hand, stayed close to Suguru, hopping cautiously beside him, eyes flicking to you every now and then. She waved when she caught you looking, then immediately hid half her face behind his sleeve again.

Cute. Painfully so.

You were mid-bounce with Nanako, finally starting to relax—

When suddenly—

Impact.

“Oh, you’ve got to be—”

Satoru tackled you out of nowhere.

Not aggressively. Not violently.

Just… recklessly.

He slammed into you with all the grace of a feral cat, sending both of you flying across the trampoline. You bounced once. Twice. Then landed in a tangled heap, staring up at the ceiling while your soul briefly left your body.

You lay there, blinking.

He hovered over you, grinning like he’d just discovered a new hobby. “You good?”

You wanted to curse him out. You really did. You wanted to call him every insult you knew and invent a few new ones just for him.

But—

Kids.

So instead, you smiled sweetly through clenched teeth. “You absolute—”

Nanako gasped. “No bad words!”

You inhaled. Exhaled.

“…menace,” you finished tightly.

Satoru burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re fun,” he said, then immediately reached for you again.

“Satoru wait, no—” You shoved him back with both hands, using the bounce to your advantage, and he stumbled, barely catching himself before falling flat on his ass.

Suguru barked out a laugh from across the floor. “serves you right.” He told Story who ignored just ignored him.

Satoru sat up, eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’re doing this?”

You squared your shoulders, bouncing lightly. “You started it.”

Nanako cheered like she was watching a wrestling match. Mimiko clapped quietly, eyes wide.

Satoru lunged again.

This time, you were ready.

You ducked, grabbed his arm, and used his own momentum to fling him sideways. He yelped—actually yelped—before hitting the trampoline and rolling.

He popped back up, hair wild, grin feral.

“Okay,” he said, pointing at you. “I like you.”

You scoffed, heart pounding, adrenaline buzzing. “Yeah? I still think you’re an asshole.” He laughed and charged again.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Nanako’s voice cut through the chaos, high and urgent as she bolted across the trampoline floor, her short legs pumping like her life depended on it. She skidded to a stop in front of Suguru and pointed an accusatory finger back at you.

“The big bad UGLY dragon is attacking the princess!” she declared. “She’s gonna die!” She added dramatically, tugging her hair in distress.

You barely had time to process that before Satoru—who was still very much sprawled on top of you, using your stomach like it was a premium seat—let out an offended gasp.

“I am not ugly!” he protested loudly, one hand flying to his chest like he’d been personally betrayed. “That’s slander.”

“Shush, dragon!” Nanako snapped, hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to be scary, and you are, but you’re still ugly. That’s how dragons work!”

You squirmed beneath him, trying to shove his shoulder. “Get—off—me,” you hissed between laughs, but with his strength, it's completely useless.

That’s when Mimiko spoke up.

She had been clinging to Suguru, fingers curled into her sleeves like she was debating the risk of existing at all. But now her small fists clenched with determination. “I’m helping the princess too,” she said, quiet but firm.

Before you could react, she hurried over and planted herself at your side like a tiny bodyguard.

Your heart did a weird little thing.

Suguru, meanwhile, crouched low on the trampoline, eyes narrowing as if he were surveying a battlefield. He picked up a discarded pool noodle and rested it over his shoulder, posture shifting into something exaggeratedly heroic.

“Fear not,” he announced gravely, “for I, a brave knight, shall defeat the UGLY dragon.”

Nanako lit up. “Yes! Save her, daddy!”

Satoru let out a mock growl, still stubbornly refusing to move. “I am terrifying,” he said, baring his teeth dramatically. “But I refuse to accept the ugly allegations.”

“Not on my watch,” Suguru replied.

He launched himself forward with an overly dramatic bounce, swinging the pool noodle. It smacked Satoru’s arm with a harmless thwack, and Suguru immediately followed it up by stumbling, rolling across the trampoline like he’d been hit by an invisible force.

“I shall vanquish you, foul beast!” he cried, flailing so hard it was impossible to take him seriously.

Mimiko grabbed another pool noodle, eyes shining, and joined in. “I’m helping too!”

She smacked Satoru’s side, gentle but enthusiastic.

“Ow! Betrayal!” Satoru yelped, clutching his chest and wobbling exaggeratedly. “The children have turned against me!”

You were laughing so hard your sides hurt, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Get off me, you dramatic, ugly beast!”

That did it.

Suguru lunged again—this time more carefully—and hooked an arm around Satoru, rolling them both away from you in a controlled tumble. They bounced once, twice, before Suguru pinned him with a triumphant flourish.

“Behold,” Suguru declared, lifting the pool noodle like a sword. “The princess is safe.”

Nanako jumped up and down, cheering. “You did it! You saved her!”

Mimiko smiled too, small and proud, standing a little taller.

Satoru lay flat on his back, arms tucked behind his head, chest rising as he grinned up at the ceiling. “Fine,” he conceded. “Not ugly, but defeated. Temporarily.”

You finally sat up, brushing your hair back and steadying your breathing, still buzzing with laughter.

Nanako immediately grabbed your hand again. “Come on!” she said. “Let’s jump more!”

“Wait—Nanako.” Mimiko’s small voice cut in, calm but decisive. She stopped Nanako mid-tug, her hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“The princess has to give the knight a kiss as a reward,” she said matter-of-factly, like she was reciting an ancient, universally accepted law.

Nanako froze. Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She nodded solemnly, then turned to you with alarming seriousness. “I forgot. You HAVE to give the knight a kiss.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was letting you in on a sacred secret. “It’s true love.”

Your brain short-circuited.

You glanced at Suguru, then at the girls, then immediately away again as heat rushed up your neck. “I—wait—”

Behind you, Satoru completely lost it. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears actually forming at the corners of his eyes. “Oh my god.” he wheezed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Suguru cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Girls,” he said carefully, holding his hands up. “the princess doesn’t have to repay the knight. It’s the knight’s duty to protect. No rewards necessary.”

Mimiko frowned and crossed her arms. “That’s not what you say.”

Suguru blinked. “What?”

“You always tell us to give you kisses when you ‘save’ us,” she replied, tone painfully logical. “That’s the rule.”

Nanako gasped. “Did you lie, daddy?”

What the hell is Suguru teaching his daughters?

Satoru immediately leaned in, grinning like a menace. “Wow,” he said, rubbing salt directly into the wound. “Is daddy a liar?” He mocked.

Suguru shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

You stood there, mortified, fingers twisting into your sleeves. The girls’ eyes were on you now—expectant, hopeful, completely sincere.

You sighed. “…Okay,” you muttered, barely audible. Then, louder, to Suguru, “Um. Is that… okay?”

“Yes!—I mean, if you're okay with that?” He stiffened slightly, then nodded once, quick and clear. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You stepped forward before you could think better of it, leaned in, and pressed the briefest, lightest kiss to his cheek. It barely lasted a second.

Still—your face felt like it was on fire.

Suguru’s ears turned red. He looked very intently at absolutely anything except you.

Nanako squealed. “TRUE LOVE!”

Mimiko smiled, satisfied, like a prophecy had just been fulfilled.

Before either you or Suguru could spiral further, the girls grabbed your hands again—one on each side.

“Come on!” Nanako chirped. “Play with us! It's gonna be a girl’s only night out.”

They dragged you away, mercifully fast, leaving Suguru standing there rubbing the back of his neck and Satoru laughing so hard he nearly fell over again.

You didn’t look back.

A soft golden glow filled a room in a house, signalling that it was morning once again. 

There wasn’t much special about the house. It was family-sized, with white, wooden panelling, a slate roof, and big bay windows above and beneath the overhanging porch, which even had a rocking chair by the front door. There were rolling fields all around, spanning so many miles and miles of green countryside that it was enough to make any red-blooded person sick to their stomach with envy. 

Very Little House on the Prairie, only less backwater – as it said in the seller’s description. 

That was because it was perfect. Not too near the nearest town, but not too far away, either. No, it was nicely out of the way, and that’s how its inhabitants liked it. After all, they’d long had enough of the big city – the noise, the smell, the people. God, so many people. 

People are great until you’re at their beck and call, and it wasn’t until their only close friends were the crickets chirping outside that Ray and (y/n) Manchester realised how Swellview ground them down. 

Talk about low spirits—theirs were exhausted. But they supposed that was what retirement was invented for: a chance to relax after years of hard work and sacrifice. And if anyone had given the best years of their lives to that place, it was the two ex-superheroes.

One year later. Three hundred and sixty-five days, and their lives hadn’t been the same since. Danger Force was gone. Schwoz and the Man’s Nest, too. Once they turned away those rock-hewn walls and high ceilings, they didn’t look back – perhaps once, but only to wave goodbye as they left forever. It was okay; the kids could handle the mantle of Heroes of Swellview, which they were more than welcome to.  

Everything was good in the big city, but things were better in the country. 

Cracking open her eyes, (y/n) blinked in the morning sun. It streamed through the windows – God, she still loved having windows – and made the bedroom feel all warm and cosy, bathing her tastefully procured, farmhouse-style furniture in a gold glow. Every day, she could wake up and count her lucky stars, forever grateful that this was her life now. 

No more midnight emergencies. No more interrupted alone time. No more screaming children. Just her in a little house in the country, precisely as they had always dreamed – after all, she never wanted to dream alone. 

And, thanks to those lucky stars, she didn’t have to. 

She smiled upon feeling his arms around her body, tightening whenever she wiggled a little bit as if he was afraid she might run off and disappear. Ray was always like that, snuggling so close during sleep that he practically smothered his wife, but she didn’t mind. It was adorable how he fidgeted closer, not satisfied until he was on top of her or vice versa. 

Burying her face further into his neck, she inhaled deeply, loving the faint scent of his leftover cologne and shampoo. She left a kiss against his throat, smiling widening when a rough, sleepy groan left his chest. He was awake. 

“Morning, sweet girl…” muttered Ray, his voice like gravel as he cracked an eye open to look upon his precious wife. 

He squeezed her frame in his arms, propping his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand to clear the fog around his dozy mind. He’d never get used to how well he slept now that he was retired. 

“Good morning, doofus,” (y/n) replied, wearing a similarly sleepy smile as her hand ran across his chest – wedding rings glinting in the daylight. “Sleep well?”

“Never better.” The ex-hero rolled over a little, relaxing his back muscles and stretching out his legs as she rested her cheek on his pec. A hand came up to stroke her hair, heavy and clumsy in its movements, but she felt the love behind it—felt it practically radiating off his body when he spoke through a wide-mouthed yawn.

“Can’t complain when I wake up to my beautiful wife every day.”

His flattery made (y/n) giggle, although she was now too used to his corny lines and cheesy romancing for her cheeks to warm. She rolled her eyes, slinging her leg over his hip to scooch closer, and he was only too happy to assist. 

“Five seconds of being awake, and you’re already flirting with me.”

“Can’t help it. You’re so damn gorgeous,” said Ray, a broad, cheeky grin gracing his handsome features – especially when the arm around her shoulders slipped. His hand trailed her curves, which these days had him salivating like a dog whenever he saw them.

“Not at seven AM, I’m not.” The woman shook her head and gave him a slight, self-deprecating smile. 

She didn’t doubt that, after a night of tossing and turning, early starts, late finishes, no shower, and no chance to tame the rats’ nest that was her hair, she was nowhere near beautiful. And that made Ray pout.

“Excuse me, that’s my wife you’re bad-mouthing,” he replied, an edge of semi-serious sternness in his tone. 

If he knew her well enough – and he did – she wasn’t entirely as unbothered as she let on. A lot had changed in the last year; neither were as young as they used to be. Hell, they didn’t spend hours in the gym anymore because there was no point with no bad guys to fight. 

His stiff muscles gave way to a slightly softer, but no less bulky, figure, and she… He never thought she could be more beautiful until his sweet girl became a mom…

“And in my eyes, she’s the hottest, sweetest, prettiest thing that ever gave me the time of day.”

The gentle smile that graced her lips in return was all he needed to keep going, especially since it was directed at him. “There’s the poet I married.”

“Yeah…” Ray nodded, closing his eyes and nearly purring when her fingers slipped through his hair, which had grown out a little since they bought the house. “You married me.”

“I did…” (y/n) whispered as she played with a few chocolate strands, brushing them away from his forehead. “Best choice I ever made…”

She leaned down to kiss him, slow and gentle, and the man hummed appreciatively. The thick stubble on his jaw undoubtedly tickled and scratched her skin, but the former heroine didn’t care, loving the feeling and how it made him look – so rugged and manly after years of being perfectly groomed as The Captain. 

His fingers brushed her cheek, allowing his golden band to nudge against her soft skin as they lay there for a few silent, fleeting moments. 

Gripping her hip, Ray pulled away after a few seconds, licking his lips to chase the honeyed sweetness that she always seemed to have. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm...” His pretty girl nodded, glancing around the room with a fond gaze, eyeing everything she was grateful for. Of course, he took her momentary distraction as a chance to swoop in, pressing kisses down her exposed throat since no singular kiss would ever be enough.

“We’ve got this great house in a beautiful place, enough money to last the rest of our lives, and—

“—And the sex is still great?” She looked down to see his raised eyebrow and goofy grin. 

“Not where I was going, but sure,” answered (y/n), shaking her head at the feeling of his hand patting and squeezing her ass. Some things would never change – certainly not his endless desire for her. “You’ve still got it, doof.”

Ray nodded, as serious as sin as his darkening eyes looked into hers, swallowing upon noticing her little shiver. “Damn right. Nearly eight years together, and I still make you scream the house down. Speaking of which…”

Oh, she knew that smirk. His gaze slid from her beautiful face to roam her body with the same interest and lust as they’d always had, and the old hero wasted no time in getting his hands on her. Turning more onto his side, a large palm drifted down her neck, passing over the curve of her breast in that sexy, little sleep shirt she wore – the one he loved because it stopped around her upper thigh. 

Down his finger went, tracing patterns on her skin as he tried to play it cool – batting his eyelashes and smiling innocently as if his wife didn’t know his game. By the time his touch reached her navel, her quivering voice couldn’t help but ask. 

“Where are you going with that hand?”

“You know where,” he said, circling just below her belly button and just above the elastic of her underwear. All he had to do was ask, smacking his lips together at the thought of being so close, and he knew she was tempted. 

A year ago, she would’ve succumbed more readily, but these days, (y/n) was just as needy as him, yet also apprehensive. And for good reason, no matter how much he pleaded. “Come on. We have time.”

“We never have time,” she replied thoughtfully, sounding almost bitter at what had become a fact of life. 

All Ray did was smile, never one to complain about their now patchy sex schedule because he’d be stupid to complain. Above all things, he might have been an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid, pulling back from his suckling on her neck to follow where her nervous stare went. 

“Ray—the baby monitor is right there.”

When he thought his life would be peaceful, fate threw a curveball. It turns out there were midnight emergencies. There was interrupted alone time. And although he’d raised and seen off eight children at this point, one still needed him. 

And damn him if Ray Manchester wasn’t head over heels with the little bundle of Joy slumbering peacefully in the next room. 

“I’m sure Baby Manchester will understand that mommy and daddy want to do grown-up things,” he told her in his calmest voice whilst ignoring the walkie-talkie on their bedside table. 

At the first sound of a coo or cry, he was like lighting, running out of the room to check that everything was all right. And, of course, it was – it wasn’t like they had enemies anymore. Ray quickly learned that babies inevitably cry, and whilst his had him wrapped around a tiny, pinkish finger, a few moments left alone weren’t necessarily bad. 

If anything, it played in his favour right now. 

“But if we wake—” (y/n) shuddered, her gaze still not moving from the table as if anticipating a shrieking cry. 

Even if his lips felt like heaven on her skin, dipping his head to suck a fleeting bruise on her collarbone, she hated the thought of starting and not finishing—of getting so close to the passion they used to share, only for it to be cut short at the crux. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. 

“We won’t,” her husband insisted, smooching loudly up her neck to reach those pillowy lips. He placed a featherlight kiss on them, using his many years of experience to change her mind. “Come on, sweet girl. Remember we used to do it everymorning?”

Despite how her ears warmed, the woman met his smirk with a dry glance. Yes, she did remember, secretly aching and longing for the early days of their relationship when they could roll around the sheets all morning. Those were the days. 

“That was before we had a baby, doofus.”

“Yeah, and I should worship the ground you walk on for that,” he replied, sounding serious and throaty, making her squirm nervously under his admiring gaze. His hand wandered over newfound, favourite areas – her wider hips, softer tummy, heavier chest – and he smiled at her breathless mewl.

She was still so sensitive, even after the baby changed her body, making it rounder, fleshier, and bigger. If Ray thought he was blessed to be a father, he must’ve done something right in his life to hover over his trembling wife, swallowing thickly at having more of her to love. 

“Please, darlin’…I’m dying of thirst over here.” He rested his chin against her shoulder, shuffling closer until his hips and growing hardness pressed into her side. 

“…You’re so lucky I love you,” (y/n) said after a silent pause, and the silly grin on her doofus’ face was worth however long they had. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, giggling into a kiss as he immediately rolled fully on top of her, groaning against her lips. The longer strands meant she had something to yank on, and when that stubble reached her thighs…

God, it had been ages since he’d done that, and she suddenly realised how she craved it. “You should put that silver tongueto better use, Raymond.”

“God, I love you…” he replied gutturally, nodding diligently without needing to be told twice before he began moving down her body – pressing light, little kisses as he went. 

Pushing her shirt out of the way, the ex-hero greedily drank in the sight of her nude body as she threw the clothing off into a corner. He urged her to relax against the pillows and mattress as he settled between her legs – a homecoming that felt way overdue after simply sleeping in bed. 

For a man of experience, Ray swore his hands were shaking, too anxious to have her writhing under him already as his fingertips teased the edge of her underwear, playing with the lacy edge so he could slide it gently over her hip bones. He licked his lips, all too eager for a taste, as she lifted her hips, moaning for him to hurry up. 

He swore under his breath, tugging the final piece of clothing down her legs with breathless anticipation. A chuckle left his lips at her whines as a large hand slung one leg over his shoulder before pulling her down the bed toward his waiting tongue, which would soon give them both what they wanted. 

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” whispered Ray as he rubbed his nose against her inner thigh, hoping to prolong his favourite pastime. “Just let me—”

A sharp, gurgling cry shattered the moment. Ray looked at (y/n). (y/n) looked at Ray. With their eyes locked, they hoped it was just a fluke – a little shout out of nowhere as they laid perfectly still like doing so would freeze time long enough for them to fuck. 

That was wishful thinking, and one hiccup turned into choked warbles, which became loud, beckoning wails. And they both knew what that meant. 

“Fuck.”

“Shit.” They sighed, knowing the romance and passion in the air had gone as the baby monitor played its ear-shattering, heartbreaking tune. 

With a low groan, Ray smushed his forehead again as his wife’s abdomen, tickling her bare skin with his hot breath, although she didn’t have the heart to laugh at him. (y/n) dropped her head back against the pillows, willing her desire and neediness to dissipate because the moment was annoyingly, disappointingly, frustratingly gone.

“I told you,” she said quietly, although there was no blame or bite in her tone. “It’s quarter past…Feeding time.”

“Yeah, it was feeding time for me, too—ow!” The hero grumbled, only for his precious wife to whack his shoulder with an unserious frown on her pretty face. 

“Later, doof,” she told him gently but firmly, patting his head as she sat up against the headboard. “Gotta get up…”

But before she could swing her legs over the bed’s edge and put her feet on the floor, the man urged her to lay back down, hands pushing her shoulders back against the mattress. “Stay in bed, sweetheart. I’ll make up a bottle for our meatball.”

His smile meant she couldn’t argue, not when he’d been so sweet, caring, and attentive since she’d mothered his child. Ray took to fatherhood like he was born for it, juggling housework, gardening, shopping, cooking, and everything else whilst still having an arm free to carry his child. 

He wanted his sweet girl to rest, so he kissed her temple as he climbed out of their little sanctuary, fully intent on handling everything if it meant she could get a little more shut-eye. The former heroine watched with an enamoured smile as he found and donned some plaid pyjama pants, looking every part the handsome hero she fell in love with as he opted to remain deliciously shirtless. 

Although, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at one minor detail. “Baby, doofus. Baby, not meatball.”

“Came out looking like a meatball. Name’s stuck,” answered Ray, grinning unapologetically because he said it with so much love for his lil’ meatball. 

Leaning down for a final, chaste kiss, he wandered out of the room, stretching his bulky arms over his head as he called out to the baby in the next room. “Now, where is Daddy’s little angel?”

“Such a doofus…” (y/n) muttered to herself and shook her head, albeit with a smile. Inhaling deeply, she debated going back to sleep, still feeling sleepy with the soft sheets and blankets, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t do that to her doofus. 

She could hear him cooing through the monitor, sweet-talking to the baby as if he’d actually get a response from a one-year-old. No, she refused to sleep whilst he slaved the day away, so instead, she reached for her phone as it charged beside the lamp. 

Eyeing the time on her lock screen – an adorable photo of her husband holding their newborn with tears in his eyes – she thought fifteen minutes more in bed wouldn’t hurt.

Scrolling through the many notifications, she swiped through her email first, rolling her eyes at how much crap bled through the junk filter. Everything was inconsequential trash, but something caught her eye as she flicked between apps.

‘Spam, spam, spam, read that later, not interested, delete—a text from Piper?’ 

That had her sitting up a little straighter. A grin naturally made its way onto her face as she opened the message, swiftly realising that nothing was wrong, bless her worrying heart. 

If she had it her way, she’d have everyone under one roof – Henry, Jasper, Charlotte, Piper, Chapa, Mika, Miles, and Bose – all the baby birds in one nest. Still, the woman knew they had to have their own adventures, settling for texts, sparse phone calls, and monthly updates from those little crimefighters in both Swellview and Dystopia. 

At least Piper remembered to tell her about how she and Schwoz wanted to visit that godforsaken city. 

‘Arrived in Dystopia. Schwoz snored for the whole flight, so I shoved expired peanuts up his nose, LOL! Meeting Henry and Jasper now – wish me luck xx.’ 

“Aw…My babies…” she mumbled, glad to hear something positive that wasn’t Charlotte’s struggles to get into university, Henry’s love life, Jasper’s moustache obsession, or Schwoz’s many, many problems. 

In some ways, she missed the old days, finding the adjustment to daily life jarring. Looking around her bedroom, (y/n) knew she was the luckiest girl in the world, having two rings on her left hand and a doting husband and child next door, so why did something feel…missing? 

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing it was selfish to complain, even silently. There was nothing wrong with her perfect life, and she had to keep thinking that, no matter if she found herself reaching for a gum ball every once in a while. Even if she sometimes caught Ray looking wistfully at his old super-suit, she had to ignore it. 

‘We worked so hard for this…’ she thought to herself as her thumbs hovered above a reply to Piper. ‘Who am I to want to go back?’

So, she forced a little smile and began typing, encouraging the sassy, young girl to be nice to her old friend, who’d use her in one of his experiments if she wasn’t careful. She was just about to give her love to Henry and Jasper when she shivered, feeling the air go from warm and golden to cold and dark in a split second. 

“What the—?” (y/n) gasped as a strong wind picked up, shaking the room like a freight train was passing through, and she felt her heart pound in her ears as her vision began to cloud over. Her tastefully curated bedroom melted into hues of purple, yellow and pink, and she swore lightning zapped at her skin as she shielded her eyes from a blinding light. 

(y/n) felt herself falling, her last thought wondering if this was it. Admittedly, she didn’t know what was happening, and it sure as hell was a weird way to go – up in a cloud of violet smoke. 

Was she going to die? If so, she wanted one more chance to tell Ray she loved him—one more time to hold her baby in her arms and whisper, “Momma loves you, meatball.” What kind of death was this if she couldn’t see their faces one last time?

But when she screamed, no words came out, and then, in the blink of an eye, it all faded to black. 

Next Chapter

The world narrows, your other senses sharpening in the absence of sight. You hear the faint rustle of leather as Geralt shifts beside you, his presence a steadying anchor against the vastness of the night. His hand, rough and calloused, slips into yours and guides you a few steps forward.

“Alright,” he says finally, his voice softer now, a rare trace of wonder woven through it. “Open them.”

Your breath catches. The sky above is alive. Waves of green and purple ripple across the heavens, like ethereal banners unfurling in a silent symphony. Streaks of pink and blue race between them, illuminating the snowy peaks of Skellige in surreal, otherworldly hues. The aurora dances, untamed and wild, a fitting reflection of the man standing beside you.

Geralt watches you, not the lights. His golden eyes glow faintly in the reflected brilliance, softer somehow, the hard edges of his usual stoicism momentarily softened.

“You’ve seen this before,” you say, barely above a whisper. It’s not a question.

He nods, gaze drifting upward at last. “A few times. Usually when I was hunting in the far north.” He pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, “Never stopped long enough to look, though. Until now.”

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You don’t press him to explain. He doesn’t need to say it—that this is a rarity, a moment plucked from a life otherwise consumed by contracts, monsters, and blood.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, leaning into his side. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you closer. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the thick fabric of his cloak, hear the faint sigh that escapes him as he relaxes against you.

“It is,” he says after a moment, his voice low, almost reverent. But when you glance up, his gaze isn’t on the sky—it’s on you.

A quiet descends between you, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the pines. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his body seep into you as the northern lights continue their dance above. For a while, the world feels impossibly vast and yet impossibly small, narrowed to just the two of you and the ethereal glow of the sky.

“Peace is... rare,” Geralt says suddenly, breaking the silence. His tone is contemplative, almost wistful. “Moments like this—they’re worth more than gold. More than any contract.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his expression. His gaze remains fixed on the horizon, the faintest crease between his brows as though he’s weighing each word carefully.

“When I was younger,” he continues, his voice softer now, “I didn’t understand what Vesemir meant when he talked about needing something beyond the Path. Thought it was nonsense. Distraction.”

“And now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales, a sound caught between a sigh and a laugh. “Now I know better.” His gaze flickers down to meet yours, and for a moment, the intensity of his golden eyes makes it hard to breathe. “You’ve shown me that.”

The confession hangs in the air, raw and unguarded in a way that makes your chest ache. You reach up, cupping his face with a gloved hand, and he leans into the touch instinctively, his eyes slipping closed. The tension in his shoulders melts, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“You deserve peace, Geralt,” you say firmly, though your voice trembles slightly under the weight of the moment. “You deserve this.”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand tightens on your waist, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your side. The gesture speaks volumes, even if he doesn’t.

The northern lights ripple overhead, vibrant and unyielding. You tilt your head up to kiss him, slow and soft, savoring the warmth of his lips against yours despite the cold. He kisses you back with a quiet intensity, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. There’s no urgency, no rush—just the two of you, grounding each other in the stillness of the moment.

When you finally pull away, the aurora is beginning to fade, the colors softening into the inky black of night. Geralt watches it with a faint, wistful smile before turning his attention back to you.

“Thank you,” he says simply, the words carrying a depth that makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t need to elaborate. You understand.