Y/n had married Geralt of Rivia to settle a debt her family owed him. It had been her idea when her family could no longer repay him. A few weeks had passed since she moved into his secluded cabin. Their marriage had started as an arrangement, but a quiet routine had formed between them. Geralt was still quiet and stoic, though lately he'd been lingering near her more often, leaving small gifts, and softening whenever their eyes met. That evening, Geralt sharpened his sword by the fire while y/n read. After a long silence, he looked up. "You've been quiet." His golden eyes met hers. "Something wrong?"
Every night, y/n dances at the strip club to support herself and her younger brother after their parents died. Tonight is no different—until Frank Castle walks in for the first time. From the shadows, the hardened ex-military criminal watches as y/n takes the stage, completely unaware that she has caught his attention.
A year ago, Ghost saved y/n's life during an armed robbery at the diner where she worked. What began as staying in touch eventually turned into a relationship, and after a year together, Simon moved into her apartment. König had always been Ghost's closest friend and practically his brother. When König developed feelings for y/n, he confessed them to Ghost. Instead of letting it come between their friendship, Ghost and König came up with the idea of asking y/n if she would be willing to try a relationship with both of them. Y/n was sceptical at first, unsure if something like that could actually work. But eventually, she agreed to give it a chance. Now, a few weeks later, both Ghost and König lived with her. At first, everything had been going well. But recently, tensions had started to grow between the three of them, especially with Ghost and König balancing their demanding work in the special task force with their life at home. Jealously become more common.
Three weeks ago, Frank Castle walked into the bakery where you worked. He had just come from another night as the Punisher—exhausted, bruised, and carrying the weight of everything he'd done. Then he saw you behind the counter. Something about your warmth and normality caught him off guard, and for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting to stay somewhere. Since that day, Frank had started coming back almost every morning. Sometimes he had an excuse, sometimes he didn't. To you, he was simply the quiet, intimidating regular who seemed to prefer your bakery over every other place in the city. You knew nothing about the weapons beneath his jacket or the skull he wore at night. Frank kept his two lives completely separate. During the night, he hunted drug dealers, violent criminals, and men who believed they were above the law. He moved through the city unseen, leaving behind fear and blood. By morning, he was back in your bakery, trying to look like an ordinary man. He wasn't sure what exactly he felt for you yet. Attraction, curiosity, maybe something more. Whatever it was, it unsettled him. You represented everything his life wasn't—warmth, safety, and something worth protecting. That evening, after another brutal night, Frank stood outside the bakery in the darkness. A fresh cut marked his eyebrow and his knuckles were bruised beneath his gloves. He should have gone home. Instead, he stayed there for a moment, staring at the closed bakery, already knowing he'd be back tomorrow.
Y/n had spent her entire life being taught to hate pirates. As the daughter of Nassau's governor, she had heard every story of their cruelty and violence—and believed every word. Until the day a group of men attacked her carriage on the road home, intending to use her as leverage against her father. Before they could take her, Charles Vane appeared. Ruthless and covered in blood, he killed every last one of them. The pirate she had been taught to fear had just saved her life.
Geralt and y/n had been dating for three months. They had first met in y/n’s village, when Geralt arrived to take care of a monster nearby. He noticed her almost immediately, but y/n kept her distance at first. She had heard all the stories about witchers. Still, Geralt kept finding reasons to talk to her, and slowly, despite the whispers and disapproving looks, they grew closer. Their relationship hadn't always been easy. People stared when they walked together, some openly insulted Geralt, and others warned y/n that she would only get hurt. Geralt tried to ignore it, but his temper had always been difficult to control when someone crossed a line. Tonight, the two of them were walking through the village when a man passing by muttered a cruel remark about Geralt being a mutant. Geralt stopped, his jaw tightening. Before y/n could stop him, he grabbed the man and slammed him against a wall. Y/n quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away, forcing him to let go. Geralt finally stepped back, blood smeared across his cheek and anger still burning in his golden eyes. Y/n took his hand and led him home without another word. The walk was quiet, but she didn't let go of him.
Heathcliff had belonged to her father’s household for as long as y/n could remember. He carried a darkness within him, even as a child, yet somehow, he and y/n had become inseparable. But as they grew older, Heathcliff began to feel something more. He knew it was foolish—someone like him could never truly have someone like her.
Frank Castle had worked alongside y/n's father for years, making him one of the few people she could call in an emergency when her father didn’t answer. She had his number saved for exactly that reason. Unfortunately, today’s message wasn’t an emergency. A photo meant for her best friend—a picture of y/n showing off her new bra—ended up in Frank Castle’s inbox instead. And deleting it was no longer an option.
