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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years ago

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Nemesis: Retribution (5)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), human rights violations, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Okay okay. I’m finally happy with how this turned out. Goddamn that’s a lot of words. I’ll see you all in the party in the comments and reblogs! I love reading what you think. Don’t be shy. Jump in!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

[gif not mine. credit to: this glorious gif post.]

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:5 Lemons

2 missions.

A 50/50 chance of getting Salvacion.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were on the verge of getting lightheaded from the anticipation. A decade of chasing this bastard and this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. The man was not only deadly in skill, but always seemed to manage to give you the slip every single time. Forcing yourself to face the life you left was worth it if it meant finally avenging Lily.

The briefings the past week had been long, but they were important to make sure everyone was prepared to end this. You were minutes away now from shipping off to the mission and your whole body was buzzing.

This was it.

There were two locations that you had to hit at the same time. Two locations with large shipments that you had to stop from reaching its destination. The teams needed to be split.

"Let's go over this one more time," Steve started, fully suited up in black that was truly a far cry from his old blue and red ensemble. "I'll be leading a team into the shipment yards with Bucky and Nem at the front. Sam will be on air support. Billy will manage a team of snipers in the surrounding area."

This was the smaller of locations, but with the larger shipment. The location itself entailed a more strategic approach. You weren't happy that there was a chance that Salvacion would be at the other location, but having Frank on that team put you somewhat at ease. He understood more than anyone how important this was to you and he promised he would take Salvacion alive. He was yours to kill.

Frank always kept his promises.

"I'll be leading the other team into the industrial district," Frank continued, his signature vest strapped tight across his chest. "Pietro and Matt will cover the perimeter and I'll be charging in with Nat and Wanda."

Their location was more complicated. It was too close to the residential district and the warehouses there ran 24/7. There was a high risk of civilian casualty if they weren't careful which was why almost everyone who was powered was assigned to that group. They needed every capability they could pull to make sure no innocent blood was spilled.

"Good," Steve nodded. "We'll both have a group of agents with us too. They've been briefed and are prepping transport as we speak. We leave in 20 minutes."

Everyone nodded their understanding, grabbing their gear and heading down to the transport docks. There was a fleet of cars standing by that would be used, gassed up and ready to go. Your hands were drumming repeatedly on your vest, itching to just get on the road. Frank and Matt lingered with you before they joined the rest of their group.

The towering marine stepped up close to you and tightened the buckles of your bulletproof vest, wishing you would have accepted the offer of better gear from the Avengers but also knowing it was hypocritical of him when he declined as well.

It just wasn't your style.

It was his own damn fault for training you in his own combat style. He had no doubt of your capability, but still he worried about you. He always worried about you and he felt a sense of responsibility toward you after finding you tortured within an inch of your life.

"Stay close to Steve, sweetheart."

You snorted, but a glance back at Steve who was already looking at you with a raised eyebrow made you grumble and relent. "Fine."

"Good girl," Frank chuckled, before leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips as he held you by the buckles of your vest. You smiled into the kiss, feeling the steady protection and reassurance that he always brings.

He stepped away for Matt to get his turn. This was a tradition that just developed naturally between the four of you. A kiss before danger. A promise to keep safe. A promise to come home.

Matt took your face in both hands and kissed the breath out of you as if he was trying to outdo Frank. It wasn't uncommon. He was always more aggressive with his affections, always as if he was scared you might suddenly slip away from his life and you were happy to reassure him every time that you weren't going anywhere. He chuckled when you bit his lip, beating him to it. He gave you one more peck before stepping aside.

Billy came closer to your side and slung his arm around your shoulders, chuckling as he nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. It was amusing him to no end at how easily you were folding for Steve. It was a nice change of pace from the three of them never being able to deny you anything.

Most especially Billy.

"We're definitely keeping Steve around. I think I like you compliant," he snickered, turning your head toward him with a finger under your chin. He planted a quick chaste peck on your lips. Your eyebrows quirked at the unusual behavior.

"What you're not gonna try to outdo me too?" Frank teased.

"Nem knows I do my best kissing elsewhere. Don't you, pretty girl?" Billy winked at you and you rolled your eyes. You smacked him in the chest but didn’t comment further. He wasn't wrong, but he was smug enough as it is.

You were about to turn toward the cars when you were knocked back slightly to the side by a sudden peck to your cheek. You couldn't stop the laugh when you caught Pietro's grin before he vanished again, a subtle warmth spreading in your chest. You were still smiling when you took your seat beside Steve who intertwined your hand with his and raised it to his lips, smiling that soft boyish smile against your skin that now made your stomach flip. He didn't let go of your hand throughout the ride, even as he caught Bucky's yearning gaze in the rearview mirror.

You were greeted by an ambush.

Somehow the syndicates knew that you would be coming, setting up a small army as your welcome party. A quick distress call through the comms from Frank confirmed that they were facing the same in their location.

But you couldn't focus on that.

You were too busy tearing through the goons that kept coming at you. Having two super soldiers and Sam in the thick of it with you was a blessing, but even with the other agents and Billy's sniper support you were severely overrun. You would just have to trust that the other team can handle their own.

You emptied the clips of your pistols as you trudged your way deeper into the fray, not bothering to duck or take cover from the onslaught of angry men. You tossed your empty guns to the side and drew out another, catching a few bullets in your vest.

No time to reload.

"I got you, Hedwig. Give 'em hell," Billy said in your ear.

The deadly smirk on your lips was the only warning the men in front of you got. You charged again as the adrenaline coursed through your body, bullets flying precisely into their skulls.

One. Two. Three. Four men down.

When your bullets ran out, you dropped the gun and pulled out two daggers. Your eyes narrowed as you took off into a sprint toward the closest target, weaving effortlessly through the oncoming fire.

A slice to the forearm to disarm.

A dagger up the chin.

Dead.

He dropped to the ground spluttering on his blood as you took the other dagger and sent it flying toward another's chest.

Dead.

Rough muscular arms caught you by surprise and gripped you from behind, caging you as you struggled. You saw the gun in his hand and reacted.

Break the wrist to disarm.

You smirked at the loud pop of his bones. You grabbed the gun before it dropped to the ground as you slipped a knife from your vest. The pain in his wrist caused him to loosen his hold on you, allowing you to turn to face him.

Blade to the gut.

Bullet to the face. Point blank.

Dead.

You didn't even flinch when his blood splattered across your face, joining the explosion of red already painting your figure. You could make out two more in your peripheral who dropped to the ground before they could advance on you, care of your guardian angel with a sniper rifle.

"Thank you, Blackbird," you said sweetly.

"Goddamn, doll," Bucky said, Steve stood beside him mirroring the same look of equal awe and fear.

This was the first time they had seen you in action. Hearsay and that little demo with Kim did nothing to prepare them for the sheer brutality you had when given the clear purpose to kill. You didn't hesitate. You didn't waste time. You didn't care that you were drenched in blood. You had a goal and you were going to meet it every time with ruthless violence.

This was who you were now.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Steve came up to you looking worried after seeing you charging headlong at open gunfire.

He didn't like it. At least he had a shield. Skilled as you were, he didn't like that you were running every mission like you had a death wish. There was so much blood on you that it was difficult for him to tell if any of it was yours.

"None of the blood is mine," you dismissed, wiping your face with what was the only clean part of your sleeve. "Let's go. I hear more up ahead and Sam said that's where the shipment is."

Rounding the corner, you were faced with another cluster of goons with weapons aimed at your small group. They stood a good distance away in front of two shipping containers that were being readied for transport. Sam landed beside you along with a group of agents. Bucky pushed you behind him and Steve raised his shield to cover you both. Billy chirped in the comms that the snipers had repositioned and were ready. All of that barely registered with you, white noise against the rage that was brewing, because behind enemy lines was the goal you've been chasing for a decade.

Salvacion.

"I have to say," he drawled. His voice, the first you're hearing of now, sending a chill down your spine. "I expected more from the Avengers. You didn't even bring Iron Man. I'm disappointed."

"Give up the serum," Steve growled.

"No. I don't think I will," he answered. "Kill them all."

All hell broke loose once more; fists, bullets, knives, and a shield flying in every direction. Bucky and Steve kept close to you, shielding you from most of the shots as you advanced. You gunned down every bastard you saw but your eyes never strayed from Salvacion who was just standing there watching the clash.

Taunting you.

Something nagged at the back of your head as you fought. It was unusual for the syndicates to be deploying this many people to a single location even if it was for the serum. While you were thanking every god you knew for luckily drawing Salvacion on this mission, his presence was also peculiar. Something else was going on.

Something else was here.

The syndicates were pushing back on your team hard, but you were making a dent in their numbers. When you saw Salvacion start walking away, that was when you felt the panic stir in your mind.

"I can't let him get away, Steve!"

You ignored his and Bucky's calls for you as you made a mad dash straight through the fight, efficiently shooting and stabbing anyone who dared get in your path. You were consumed with the purpose of reaching him, of finally being able to end it all.

You left the larger fight behind you in favor of this more personal one, the noise receding as you chased him farther. You caught a glimpse of him making his way up stacked containers and you sped up your run. You didn't even think twice about climbing the height. Nevermind potential broken bones. Nevermind getting cornered. Nevermind that you had no backup.

Salvacion would die today.

When you reached the top, you were surprised to see him standing there waiting for you but also that he wasn't alone. You raised your gun to match the one he was aiming at you, but he merely tutted and smirked. His other hand also had a gun, this one aimed up the chin of the person he was holding captive in front of him.

Kim.

The amount of irritation this woman was bringing into your life was starting to get on your nerves. She was delegated on your team for this mission and you stifled the aggravated groan as you noticed that she was bleeding heavily from both shoulders causing her to not be able to fight back.

Top agent my ass.

"Hello, Nemesis," Salvacion grinned at you. "Or should I call you Y/N? Much more personal given our history, don't you think?"

Your name on his lips caused a wave of nausea and a sneer to grace your lips. You raised your gun higher, narrowing your eyes as his own pressed harder against Kim's skin. It wasn't an idle threat.

"Nice of you to show up for once. Was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"Come now. Don't you enjoy our little game of cat and mouse?"

A game.

This was all a game to him and the malevolent smile on his face confirmed that. The fury in you burned, almost making you physically shake. Killing Lily was nothing to him while it had completely consumed your life. It had become your driving force while to him you were merely entertainment.

"You're going to let me go," he declared, fully confident.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he dragged out. "Or else your teammate here will die."

"What makes you think I give a shit?" you scoffed. "Go ahead."

The way Kim's eyes widened in terror brought a sick sense of pleasure in you that you shouldn't be proud of. Salvacion let out a low laugh, amusement clear in his tone.

"Oh, dear child. No matter how much spite you wrap yourself with, you are the same naive hero wannabe you always were," he snickered. "Self-sacrificing. Even at the expense of your sister."

"You don't talk about Lily, you bastard!" you screamed, your grip shaking slightly on your weapon.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe and your heartbeat was hammering in your ears. You didn't expect that finally facing him, hearing him talk about Lily like she was inconsequential, would shake you to your core. This was what you have been waiting for. This was what you have been building up to for the past decade. This was your purpose for living.

What were you waiting for?

"I am feeling generous today. Consider it my gift to commemorate our first official meeting," he said.

"What the fuck are you on?" you growled.

"Open the containers," he smiled. "See you soon, Y/N."

He abruptly tossed Kim to the side, pushing her off the ledge of the containers you were on and bolted away with a mad cackle. You shot at his retreating figure, desperately trying to aim through the turbulent emotions he inspired in you. You were going to chase after him when a yelp of pain caught your attention.

Kim was hanging by one hand off the edge, obviously struggling to hold herself up with her busted shoulders. You were too high up for her to survive the fall and she was too injured to help herself. Her grip was slipping.

"Y/N! Help me please!"

A dark shadow passed through your features. Saving her would mean Salvacion would definitely escape. Again. You didn't know if you would ever get another chance at him or when that would be.

You didn't like this woman. You never did. She tormented your youth, took joy in it even and as you reunited nothing changed. She was the same egotistic bully she always was. This was a dangerous mission. People die in the line of fire.

It happens. No one would blame you.

"Please!"

"Fuck!"

You dropped your weapon and clasped both hands on hers to pull her up. You strained with the effort, Kim being a deadweight adding to the struggle. You let go when half her body was safely on top, her legs swinging up to roll herself flat onto the surface. She was crying and whimpering from the fear and pain. You couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface.

You slapped her face.

"Get your goddamn shit together," you roared at her. "I don't have time for this. Call for evac, princess."

You ran toward the sound of helicopter blades, jumping onto crates and jolting your bones at the impact. You didn't care. The renewed rage had steadied you, calmed you almost to the point that the only thing you could see in your mind was taking him out. You had faltered and you would beat yourself up about that later, but you couldn't let him slip away again.

The helicopter was already starting to take off, Salvacion clearly visible through the open door. You cocked your gun and fired away. Empty. You slipped another gun out and fired. Empty. You kept running toward him, drawing and firing every last bullet you had as you screamed your frustration with every shot that missed.

You noticed that you managed to get a few through him by the way his body jerked. You were feeling optimistic until he reached around and pulled out a rocket launcher. You saw the sinister grin before he fired.

"Nem!" You heard your name being called, but you were too stunned by the horrible realization that you had failed today. You watched the helicopter slowly make it's way farther and farther behind the rocket that was hurtling toward you.

Even if you ran, the area of impact would still tear right through you. You were frozen in place, unable to process that this was how it would end. That it would end in you dying by his hand as well. That it would end without you making it up to Lily.

Your internal struggle was interrupted by a large body completely engulfing yours. The impact of the rocket threw you both to the ground and the loud explosion accompanied by ripping metal deafened your ears.

You struggled with your vision, the ringing in your head was painful and your body sore from crashing down. Oddly, your skull itself didn't feel injured. All of the pain seemed to be concentrated on your torso. You blinked a few times to focus the blur of your eyes as the repeated chanting of your name became louder.

"Are you okay, doll? Answer me, Nem! Come on."

"Bucky?"

Your sight finally focused to find that it was the brunette super soldier on top of you, covering you from what would have certainly been your death. The dread on his face gave way to a tired relief at you finally responding.

He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. You noticed now that he was wincing and that his flesh arm was underneath you, supporting your back and cradling your head. His metal arm was detached, a mangled mess of forcibly severed wires and metal plates sticking out from his shoulder. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Bucky, your arm," you started to struggle underneath him, knowing he must be in a world of pain.

He shushed you by rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Your eyes met icy blue ones and you saw him smile weakly, as if telling you it was worth it. He wouldn't hesitate to catch a missile with his arm again if it meant protecting you.

The rest of the boys reached you shortly after, Sam took Bucky and informed you that evac and medics were here. You were still in shock from what just happened. Billy took you gingerly in his arms, endlessly fussing at you and apologizing for not being able to do more even if you understood it was impossible for him to have tracked you through the chaos. Steve stood to the side, obviously furious at himself for not going to you even if you understood it was only right that he led the main fight.

Your body felt like it had gone through a war and you were too emotionally distressed to address anything else. You felt defeated. You felt at a loss. You failed Lily again today. Suddenly, you remembered what he told you.

His gift.

"Steve, Salvacion told me to open the shipments. He said it was a gift from him."

You didn't wait for them to respond, dragging your battered body limping across the yard to the crates. Billy recovered first, quickly jogging up to support your battered body straight with his. Steve followed closely behind, the uneasiness clouding the three of you. The locks were easily broken by Steve's shield and soon your gift was revealed.

What you saw drained the blood from all of you and caused your skin to immediately chill. It was the most sickening thing any of you have ever seen in your lives and that was saying something. How anyone could do this was beyond comprehension.

People. Dozens of people.

Crammed inside the steel box were dozens of people in various states of distress. All of them had barely any life left in them, barely sustained by the various IV bags hooked on their bodies. They hardly reacted when the doors were opened, too spent by what they had been made to go through to even blink. You suspected that a good portion of those who were not moving at all were dead. The smell was horrendous and this was coming from people who were about to be shipped to god knows where.

The horror you felt heightened to epic levels when you noticed that some of the drip bags held a different colored fluid, the distinct color of the super soldier serum. Then it clicked and the nausea finally overcame you. You poured your guts out onto the pavement, your stomach heaving violently as the truth made your vision spin.

Human testing.

Human experimentation.

And you had let the bastard escape.

Steve was going to approach you, clueless as he was on how to help you at that moment, but you had scrambled out of reach and ran out of the shipment yard. He called after you readying himself to go to you, but Billy's grip on his forearm stilled him.

"We're not who she needs right now, Cap," Billy shook his head. "Right now these people need us more."

"Where's she going?" Steve asked, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat and reluctantly agreeing.

"She'll be fine. Matt will find her."

Matt found you hours later. He had returned badly beaten and bruised from their own mission, but upon receiving word from Billy he pushed aside every painful injury he felt and rushed to where he knew he would find you. His chest tightened when he was told what you had seen. It was bad enough that you were carrying the guilt of your sister's death, but now you had the weight of all the lives that were victimized by these sick people too. It was too much for one person to bear.

He found you in the confession booth of the church on the corner of a quiet street and he couldn't see the broken look on your face when he opened the door, but he could feel it. He heard it in your unusually slow heartbeat, as if your organs were trying to give up. He heard it in the shallow breaths you took, as if the act of living was a betrayal in itself. He heard it in the cry that was begging to break through you throat. He could almost taste your despair.

He slowly knelt in front of you and pulled you urgently into his arms, squeezing himself into the tight space. He held you against him, clutching you tight and rocking you gently back and forth. This was an open secret shared between the two of you. When the darkness was overwhelming, you turned to each other and confessed. He pulled away after a long moment, cradling your face firmly in his palms. His thumbs brushed against your dry cheeks. Of course you hadn't been crying.

There were no more left to shed.

"Talk to me," he muttered, pressing his lips softly against yours.

"He experimented on a lot of people," you muttered. "And I let him go, Matty. I've been letting him carry on for ten years."

Your tone was almost a hoarse whisper, devoid of much emotion apart from a cold defeat. This worried him, but at least you were talking. You had known when you were being tortured that they Hydra hadn't perfected the serum. They kept torturing you in the hopes that they could get you to reveal anything about the formula, Steve and Bucky's abilities, or where samples of their blood were stored. You didn't talk.

Maybe you should have talked.

When the syndicates got their hands on the incomplete formula, they were faced with the same problem. A problem they apparently decided to solve by trial and error on actual people. You knew this. At the back of your mind you knew this, but it didn't register until you saw it for yourself tonight. Somehow you had ignored that fact because you had only been focused on your own grief.

"I let him go. I did this, Matty," you breathed, the guilt clear in your voice.

"No! You did not let him go. The bastard got away," he insisted. "And this is not your fault. I won’t let you think that this is your fault."

"No," you argued weakly. "I let him go. I had a shot at stopping him tonight and I didn't take it."

"Steve told me. You stopped to save Kim." The movement of his thumbs on your cheeks changed to soothing circles. "You stopped to save a teammate. That was a good thing."

You scoffed. "I wanted her to die."

"What?"

"For a solid moment as she was hanging on for her life, I wanted to let her die."

"She's alive now because of you, Nem. You fought it. You're strong. You didn't give into it."

"But what if that's what I need to do? If I did I could have ended Salvacion tonight."

You could have ended it all tonight.

Salvacion's words tonight plagued you. if you didn't try to play the hero then this whole twisted operation could have been stopped. If you didn't try to play the hero then you would have gotten your revenge for Lily. If you didn't play the hero then Lily wouldn't even be dead. You had wanted to save people so much, make a difference in the world, that you didn't stop and think about how that would impact the people you held most dear.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Matt asked cautiously, he knew more than anyone the struggle you faced. All of you were just a bad day away from completely snapping.

"I don't know," you admitted in defeat. You sounded so tired and confused that it broke his heart.

He held you for a moment more, waiting for your heart and breathing to return to normal. He didn't know what else to do or what else to tell you. He didn't know how to help you this time. Just then, he sensed the arrival of a Maximoff twin.

"Pietro's outside. I'll ask him to take you away for a while," he shook his head when he felt you were about to protest. "You need a break and you need some peace."

He led you outside, his pace slower than normal as your shoulders slumped lower to the ground in resignation. He exchanged a few words with Pietro before he pressed a kiss to your temple and pushed you toward the other man.

"Come with me, little star. I'll take care of you."

The next thing you knew, Pietro had lifted you into his arms and asked you to close your eyes. You buried your face into his neck as you felt the world around you dissolve in a blur, your hair whipped around but you weren't scared. The steady grip he had on you assured you that you would be safe. When he told you to open your eyes, you had no idea where you were or how long you had been traveling.

"Where are we?"

He gently set you on your feet as you looked around the area. It was beautiful. A dense lush forest that opened up to a lake with a small cabin. Isolated. Quiet.

Peaceful.

Immediately you felt your body relax in the new environment. It was so far removed from anything and everything that it allowed you to let go of the tight hold you had on your life. It allowed you to let go of the rage for a moment.

"Sokovia," he answered. "This is mine. When Wanda and I were little, even before the enhancements, our connection was strong and can be overwhelming. I needed a place that was only my own."

"Wanda doesn't know about this?"

"No, it is the only secret I have ever kept from her. I've never brought anyone else here."

Turning to him, you could see the shy smile on his face. There was a reluctance there, as if he was nervous that his little hideaway would not be good enough for you. You were quick to shoot that thought down.

"It's beautiful, Pietro. Thank you for sharing this with me."

His smile brightened as he approached you and held both your hands in his. "We can stay for as long as you want to. I can go into town and get us more supplies. We can swim in the lake if you like and I can cook you paprikash. You'll love it."

He was so excited. So happy to be able to spend time with you. Elated to be able to share this sentimental place with someone else, but he saw the sadness in your eyes and it made him force himself to slow down. The smile on his face dimmed.

"Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you anywhere you like."

The heartbreak and disappointment in his voice alerted you. You hurriedly wound your arms around his shoulders and forced his eyes to meet yours. You recognized the way he looked at you, but it was only now that you really noticed that he has always looked at you that way. He was so pure. So honest. So good.

He was too good for you.

"No, Pietro. This is perfect. You're perfect." You tried to smile up at him. "I don't deserve you."

Just like that he understood you. He drew you closer by the waist and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. When he drew back, his smile lit up his face again.

"Why do you need to deserve me, little star?" he chuckled at the puzzled look on your face, finding it adorable. "Can I not just choose to love you?"

You frowned and he just laughed more. He shushed your protests by pulling you flush against his body, lowering his head to hover his lips mere inches from yours. He left this small distance as your choice to make just as he has made his.

"Let me choose to love you."

You could feel his breath on your face at this distance, see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You made your choice.

Kissing Pietro has to be the most comforting experience that you had ever felt. He tasted like hot chocolate on a rainy day and you felt your body melt when he returned the gesture. You were sighing against his lips when the now familiar feeling of him dashing turned it into a surprised squeal. You blinked and you were lying down on a soft mattress with Pietro grinning down at you.

You laughed as you shared more kisses, hands giddily exploring each other and tearing away pieces of clothing until nothing lay between you. For the first time in a long time, you felt insecure about your scars. For the first time, you were reluctant for someone to see them. Again, just like that he understood you.

"You're beautiful, little star. You have always been beautiful to me."

He kissed you again, deeply and full of emotion that you melted into the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He stopped to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs causing you to involuntarily moan his name. Lower he went until his mouth was working gentle swirls on your sensitive bud. Your hips grinded against his tongue, desperately seeking more.

He pressed his mouth fully on you then, adding a finger much to your delight. He ate you like he worshipped you. Like he was blessed with the opportunity to bring you pleasure. Your body sang his praises, reacting with equal enthusiasm by soon reaching your orgasm. You shook beneath him as he allowed you to ride out your high, soothing you with gentle hands rubbing circles on your hips. He was smirking at you when he crawled up, satisfied that he had made you cum but clearly aiming for more.

He kissed you again as he lined himself up against your core, sliding it against your slit to coat it with your slick. He wasn't even inside you yet and you already felt like you were ready to cum. He held your gaze, silently asking for permission that this was still what you wanted. Instead of answering, you moved your hips to slip his length inside causing him to drag out a hiss and capture your mouth again. The groan you both let out when he bottomed out vibrated through your fused lips.

"You feel incredible," he whispered. "You feel so good wrapped around me. Just like I always thought you would."

"Pietro, please."

His strokes were slow and deep, hitting that special spot inside you that had you panting with want. The smooth roll of his hips was quickly driving you higher and higher toward another orgasm. It was so gentle. So sensual. So personal.

"Tell me what you want, little star."

Everything about Pietro's life had been one big event after another. Rushed decisions. Angry fighting. Missions. Even his very enhancement relied on speed.

He didn't want that with you.

With you he wanted to slow everything down. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to stop time if he could, keep you in his arms for as long as possible. Freeze you in this exact moment when all you felt was pleasure.

"More," you pleaded.

Maybe he could speed up just a little bit.

His strokes gradually hastened and he glowed with satisfaction at seeing you delirious with desire because of him. He palmed at your breasts, nipped at your neck, and bucked his hips just a bit harder.

"More."

He smiled. How could he deny you? He lifted you up until you were seated on him, holding you firmly with an arm up your back with his hand fisting in your hair. The other hand he slipped between the two of you to rub against your clit. You saw the wicked glint in his eyes before he dipped his head to lave at your breasts.

You felt like you were going to explode from the different sensations. That was until he decided to move your body to bounce on his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet you and his hand on your back guiding you to wind your hips as you came down. Your clit hit his pelvis each time and another wave was added onto your building climax. You whined, moaned, and pleaded his name. Begging him to grant you release.

“Let go for me. I have you. Let go.“

He growled against your breast and pounded up into you until you screamed and shook above him, clenching him so hard you pulled his own orgasm out of him. He spilled into you, crushing you against him as you continued to flutter around him.

You fought to catch your breath and when you caught each other's eyes, still hazy from lust, you laughed. You felt free. You felt renewed. You kissed him then.

"I love you too, Pietro."

He looked at you with unrestrained adoration. He had been chasing after you for so long that he could hardly believe that he had finally caught you. That he was finally yours.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" you teased.

He chuckled and pulled you in for another lingering kiss. You felt so good in his arms that he has completely forgotten how it felt to not have you in them.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder. "If you want to we can runaway. I can take you away from all of this. We can stay here or we can go anywhere else."

He smiled warmly at you and pecked your lips when he saw the internal conflict flash through your features. Again, without a word he understood you.

"But I know that is not what you want," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to know that you have that choice if you should want it."

Tempting as his offer was, you knew you couldn't let go of Lily's memory. You would never truly be at peace until Salvacion was rotting six feet under and his whole operation was blown to bits. You couldn't leave your mission unfinished. And you couldn't bear to leave four other men behind. Looking back at the events of the past night, it felt more accurate to say five. Still, there was a sense of security from knowing you had that option.

"Let's go home."

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay let’s take a vote. Should we forgive Bucky now?

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cumbercookiebatchs · 4 years ago

Note

Because why the fuck not

Would you rather..

Be able to get into fictional worlds, but can only come back to reality if you are killed OR be able to bring fictional characters to reality but you can't meet them unless the approach you first?

Meeting your soulmate (platonic or romantic) and not seeing your family ever again OR not ever meeting your soulmate, but live with your family.

Fuck, kill or marry

Sebastian Stan, Alberto Angela, Tyler Posey

Grantaire, Bucky Barnes, Geralt of Rivia

This or that

Jeans or Dresses

Park or Beach

Kisses or Hugs

Apples or Strawberries

Light or Dark

Stay in or Go outside

Singing or Dancing

Sweet or Savory

Long Hair or Short Hair

Make the first move or Wait until someone else makes the first move

Personal questions

What is one thing in your live that you'll do/endure again just because of what it teached you/where it helped you get?

Do you think yourself beautiful?

What's your dream life? (And no, it doesn't sound stupid it's great, whatever you feel like you want to accomplish)

Creepy anons

I once went through your archive to know more about you / your other interest that are not Les Mis

Random questions

What's your comfort food?

Have you ever broken a bone?

Do you own stuffed animals?

When was the last time you ate/drank water? Go drink some more water!

How do you know you're friends with a person?

What's something embarassing that you've done?

Advice

I see you're very stressed for your thesis, honey, relaxing is something very important because yes, you want to graduate, but you're not going to enjoy it if you literally work yourself to exhaustation. Give yourself breaks, and keep it coming girl, big thing are coming your way Peach.

Love/hate

Idk? Like the option to send you anon hate? I love it.

I hate you so much. Like, it should be illegal to be so sweet and talented, it drives me nuts. Girl, you're also so pretty it's annoying, could you stop. And you make me want to hug you with your hcs and make me want to punch people who hate on you for your headcanons. Not cool Riri, not cool.

that was sarcasm

Anonymous secrets

I check your blog daily, I love it a lot. I also have your notifications on and I really love when you post.

Anything you want!

Keep being your sweet and kind self, you're a little jewel I am so glad I found you on tumblr. I love you Peach, hope this makes you happy

Okay I'm really having a difficult time putting down in words how happy this just made, I'm - I woke up with my cat purring on my neck and there are birds chirping outside and it's sunny and I've just watered my plants and there are new blooms through my roses, then I come here and I read this and I'm like- this is so wholesome you have no idea of the smile you've put on my face. Like I'm giggling at my phone because of how sweet you are I'm- how can I thank you? Okay now I'm gonna stop stealing your time and I'll start answering, but keep in mind that you're incredibly sweet and also the reason of my smile today and I really really wish I could hug you now 🧡

Would I rather

It depends entirely on the world the characters are living in, but also the character themselves, I think Enjolras would jump my throat if I decided to take him away from his world in the middle of his revolt, but my general rule would be "is their world better or worse?" and if turns out their world is worse I would take them here. Like I'd sell my soul to take Geralt away from all the people hurting him.

About the soulmate, this is really though. I'm gonna tell you it I'd choose my soulmate but it wouldn't be without regrets. Like- I'm right now in a bad place with my family and I also desire someone to share my days with, you know the little things like arguing over who has to take out the trash or who put a colored shirt in the white wash, but I also think that living away would tamp things out and I would end up missing my family even if we're toxic for each other. Maybe it would be the best thing though, so I would stop being mad at them.

(1)Fuck, marry, kill

I'd definitely marry Alberto, I always scream "my husband!" whenever I see him on TV. I'd fuck Sebastian and I'm not typing the other thing

(2) Fuck, Marry, Kill

You really broke me here, but even if it would break his heart to see another friend turn against him I would try to kill Geralt, because I'm sure I wouldn't be able to actually do it. I'd fuck bucky and I'd marry Grantaire (would he marry me thoug? Wouldn't Enjolras try to kill me?)

This or that

Jeans, because even if I love dresses I think I couldn't practice my dream job wearing them.

Beach, without a single doubt I've always wanted to be a mermaid.

Hugs, hugs are so warm and comforting, I could hug someone without kissing them but I can't imagine it the other way around.

Apples! The green crunchy ones, they're so good.

Light or dark, this is hard as well. You see one of my favorite things is watch the sun shine through my half closed curtains and light up patterns on the wall of my dark room, it's really soothing! But uhm if I had to choose I'd choose light.

Go outside even if I'm socially awkward, I want to spend all my days outside after this pandemic is over.

Singing because I can't dance uwu

Savory

Long hair, I love long hair but I think it's Ariel's fault because her hair were always so pretty floating in water.

I'd wait. I always wait because I'm scared of make a fool of myself, like I'm scared my crush could laugh at me I can't believe someone could be interested in me.

Personal questions

I'd date my ex again. I know this sounds toxic and maybe it is, but going back i would do it again because it made me understand lots and lots of things about myself, what I want for my life, and also that I can stand my ground even if it scares me?

So growing up my concept of beauty has changed incredibly, call it an occupational hazard because of my art studies but I think beauty goes beyond a pretty face, a pretty face isn't what you need to be beautiful. Anyway I can't seem to think this about myself as well (or maybe I do but I don't like myself as a whole) so I think I'm incredibly ugly.

My dream life would be shared with someone that loves me as much as I love them, I want to find a best friend not only a significant other, I want to share my mind with them. And I really really wish to become an archeologist. But even if this doesn't happen it's okay, like I'm gonna try my best but what I really want is to be happy. (thank you because that was my first thought 🧡🧡)

Creepy anons

If you want to know something else you can ask me! 🧡

Random questions

I don't really have a comfort food, I usually just lay down when I'm sad.

I have never broken a bone and I hope it'll never happen because I'm scared of pain. Like, a lot. But I think it's normal.

Yes, I sleep with a stuffed cow, her name is cow, I've had her since I was eight and she's still really soft.

Is it bad I don't remember the last time I drank? I think it is.

I don't know? It's a feeling I think, like, I know I can be myself and not try to be perfect because I know you would leave me or judge me. We're friends if I'm comfortable crying in front of you.

About the embarrassing thing: once I was at a bar. It's our bar, like we always go there and we're friends with the bartenders so I was pretty comfortable. And also a bit sad. And got pretty drunk. Anyway I started talking about my ex while holding the bartender wrist and yes we're friends but not that kind of friends. Embarrassing I would never do it again.

Advice

Thank you so much 🧡 I really needed to read this, I'm gonna screenshot this.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Love/hate

I might have melted through the floor a little bit but PLEASE don't punch anyone I don't want you to get hurt.

Also, I'd definitely hug you back as tight as I can. Really. 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡 And you're the sweet one, look at me I'm smiling again.

Anonymous secret

This makes me really really really really happy, I hope it makes you happy too 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Anything you want

No one, no one had ever called me a jewel like I think I died a little but it's an happy death i died of fluff because you're just- you're so sweet, I'm speechless i have no words to thank you. I love you too and I really want to hug you because I'm shit at saying thank you but I'm so, so happy right now. Thank you 🧡.

#I am #How do you express yourself when you're happy I don't know what to do #Thank you #🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

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myownworstenemyyy · 5 years ago

Text

All I Wanted - Part 10

a Javier Peña x Reader series

Word count: 4.9k (gif by @pedropcl)

Warnings: angst, trauma triggers (mentions of blood/gore), SMUT, unprotected sex, mentions of scars, fluff, mentions of vomiting, ANGST, cliffhanger (let me know if i need to add something please!)

S/O: my lovely Tumblr wife Sarinaaa @captainclod 😘

A/N: this takes place right after part 9 (the morning after, anyone? 😏) i really hope y’all enjoy it! thanks for reading 🥰 (masterlist in bio)

Part 10 – Misguided Ghosts

You’ve been awake for some time now but you’re so comfortable in Javier’s warm embrace, you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed. He has one arm draped over your middle and his face is buried in your hair, his breaths tickling the skin on your neck. Throughout the night you would feel him pull you closer to his body, but even in his unconscious state, he was mindful not to squeeze you too tightly so as to avoid exacerbating your injuries.

Occasionally you would hear him mumbling in his sleep, things like sí, mi amor and love you and be safe. And you’d smile to yourself, knowing he was dreaming of you.

Eres el amor de mi vida, he had promised when he was making love to you - when you were making love to each other. The moment he said those words it was like the tether between your souls solidified, forming an unbreakable bond that both fills you up and steals the air from your lungs. Since that moment, every breath you take is like the first - so new and pure. You see the world with brand new eyes and you know you’ll never be the same.

Javi stirs behind you and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest, sleepily planting a kiss just behind your ear. You think he might be waking up but then you hear his breathing even out again and you chuckle lightly at how exhausted he must be after your activities from the night before.

You wish you could stay like this forever, but your bladder seems to think otherwise. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, before you slowly slip out from under his heavy arm.

“¿A...dónde vas, hermosa?” he whispers when you stand up from the bed. You turn and find him watching you with sleepy half-lidded eyes. His lips are plump and slightly pursed and you can’t resist pressing a kiss to them. He instantly deepens the kiss as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, pulling a moan from you.

He places his hands on your hips and starts pulling you back onto the bad. Reluctantly, you press a hand to his chest, whispering against his lips, “bathroom.” You chuckle when he pouts and lets his head fall back against the pillows, “hurry back,” he pleads and you almost roll your eyes at the childlike expression on his face.

You shake your head with a smile as you turn towards the bathroom. When you reach for the doorknob you hear him call your name, making you turn back towards him with questioning eyes. After a beat of silence, which he spends ogling your naked body, you fight a blush and breathe, “Yes, Javi?” and you place a hand on your hips as you face his heated gaze head-on.

His lust-filled eyes travel back up your body and finally land on your eyes, saying, “Nothing, I’m just - admiring,” while he licks his lips. Feeling bold, you wink at him and bite your lip, making sure to turn extra slow as you saunter into the bathroom and close the door with a click.

You lock it out of habit and lean against the door as you place a hand on your stomach, trying to calm the butterflies that took flight just from that small interaction with Javier - he is just pure sex, you sigh as you push away from the door.

After you’ve done your business, you look at yourself in the mirror and your jaw drops when you see how disheveled your hair is, though your skin practically glows. You run your fingers through your hair, trying to untangle the numerous knots but with little luck, so you decide to just take a shower - especially after you realize how…sticky your skin feels.

Without a second thought, you step into the shower and turn the water on. Normally the water takes only a matter of seconds to turn warm, thanks to the sweltering heat this time of year. But as soon as you feel the freezing temperature on your skin, your stomach drops and your heart hammers in your chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as goosebumps rise all over your skin. “No,” you croak out as you lean against the tile wall for support but find yourself sliding downward, knocking over a couple bottles of soap along the way. Your vision becomes blurry as the memories flash in your mind–

You’re then greeted with a bucket of ice water to the face as a voice exclaims “MIRA quién por fin se despertó,” the sound echoing off the walls and making your eardrums ache.

“¿Sabes qué, putana? I change my mind - why don’t you shut the fuck up so I can actually enjoy what I’m about to do to you.”

“No! Stop–p-please,” you screw your eyes shut and cover your ears to block out the loud banging coming from somewhere in the room as another wave of memories crashes down on you.

“Good girl,” Serpiente says before he lowers the knife and plunges it into your stomach.

“Hey, stay awake. You’re gonna be OK, mi amor, I promise,” Javier’s eyes frantically search yours for any indication that you’re hearing him. “‘Mi - amor’?” you whisper.

The rope burns into your wrists and ankles as Javier’s lifeless body is consumed by a river of blood, just before the monster slices his blade across your throat.

“NO!” you scream when you feel warm hands wrap around each of your arms. You push back as hard as you can but your back hits the wall and there’s nowhere for you to go.

“Hermosa, it’s me! It’s Javi,” the concern in his voice breaks through your brain’s assault. You open your eyes, trying to catch your breath but it’s like your lungs refuse to expand, making it impossible to breathe. You see spots in your vision and find his eyes through the steam of the now-hot shower. He’s somehow managed to squeeze into the small bathtub with you, his knees pushing against yours as he squats in front of you with the water from the shower raining down his naked back. He brings his hands to your face, saying, “Breathe - it’s okay. I’m here - you’re safe, mi amor.”

Your teeth are chattering and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. It’s like you’re still in that chair, frozen to the bone though the water in the bath is almost boiling hot. “Th-the w-w-water,” you stammer and as soon as Javi understands what you’re saying he turns and shuts the water off with one aggressive turn of his wrist. “There - it’s off. OK? You’re safe,” he keeps repeating until the look of sheer terror on your face crumples with a shuddering sob.

Your head would’ve fallen forward against your knees if Javi wasn’t holding it in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the sides of your cheeks as you weep. He doesn’t try to shush you or stop you from shedding the tears that have been building up inside you ever since the day he found you. He just sits with you as he alternates between resting his forehead against yours and pressing gentle kisses to your skin, quietly reminding you, “Aquí estoy - you’re safe.”

When your breathing finally calms down and you regain control over your limbs, you bring your hands to Javi’s wrists, causing him to lean back and stare at you with concerned eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly as he brushes hair away from your face.

You stare back at him for a second, then without warning, you crash your lips against his and wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer when he starts pulling back from you. You trace your tongue along the seam of his lips until he allows you entrance and when he does, you plunge into his mouth with a moan. He puts his hands on your hips, his fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts and you break away with a gasp, your chest heaving against his.

“Fuck it out of me, Javi,” you breathe against his lips as he watches you with confused eyes. You place your hands on his shoulders for balance as you tuck your legs under you so that you’re kneeling in front of him, the tops of your thighs brushing against his shins.

You reach for one of his hands and place his palm against your throbbing center. “Wait–” he starts to pull his hand away but you tighten your grip, pleading, “Help me forget - please,” you swallow the lump in your throat as you search his eyes for - for what? Understanding? How could he possibly understand what’s going on with you when you don’t even understand it yourself? Christ - you were just having a panic attack and now you’re asking him to fuck you?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Your shoulders drop in defeat as you look away from him, your bottom lip quivering from trying to contain another wave of tears rushing to the surface. Maybe I should just...leave. You look towards the door and notice that the doorknob is hanging from where it used to be embedded in the wooden door, and chipped pieces of wood litter the tile.

Jesus, he broke the fucking door. You look back at Javi who watches you with a worrisome expression. He holds one of your hands in his and when a stray tear falls down your cheek, he squeezes your hand. He swallows hard and shifts his body so that he’s on his knees, the two of you mirroring each other.

“Please,” your voice is barely audible and you wonder if he even heard you when all he does is stare back at you - his expression unreadable.

But then he’s reaching for you, his strong arms wrapping around you as he kisses a spark of life back into you. You almost sob from relief, and another emotion you don’t quite comprehend. He lifts your hips and helps you to your feet, but he remains kneeling in front of you. Your breathing speeds up when he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and makes a trail of kisses up your inner thigh until you’re practically hyperventilating from anticipation. Then he looks up at you through those beautiful lashes of his and whispers, “I love you,” before he buries his face in your pussy, flattening his tongue as he licks from your wet folds to your sensitive clit.

You moan his name as you thread your fingers through his hair, and your legs nearly give out when he starts circling his tongue over your clit in an intoxicating rhythm. You feel one of his hands slide up your stomach until he reaches your breast and expertly rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Your head falls back against the tile with a desperate cry when he slowly inserts one finger into your aching cunt as he simultaneously sucks your clit into his hot mouth. He’s only pumped into you four times when you start to feel that jolting tightness deep in your belly.

“Oh, god - Javi,” you breathe when he adds a second finger and moans, the vibration nearly making your knees buckle beneath you. He must sense your impending demise because he lowers his hand from your breast to your hip, holding you steady. He curls his thick fingers inside of you and sucks hard on your clit, sending you plummeting over the edge of an orgasm so intense your knees actually give out. But Javi reacts quickly and he’s standing up to catch you with one arm while his other hand remains between your thighs, his thumb vigorously massaging your clit to draw out your orgasm.

Your whole body feels like jell-o as you place your hands on his shoulders for balance, pressing your lips to his and dipping your tongue in his mouth to taste yourself. He brings a hand to your ass and squeezes, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Fuck - you taste even sweeter than I remember,” he breathes into your neck before sucking on your skin with a pressure that will surely leave a gorgeous bruise.

You reach between your bodies and find his cock stiff as a rod, dripping into your hand as you slowly start to pump his length, “I want you inside me, Javi,” you murmur into his shoulder before biting into his flesh, pulling a surprised hiss from him. He pulls back and captures your lips in a bruising kiss.

When you pull apart he takes a step out of the tub, presumably to lead you to the bed, but you tug him back, saying, “No, here. I want - I need–” the words get stuck in your throat as you try to think of a way to express what you’re feeling.

I need to replace a bad memory with a good one. It sounds simple in your head, but for some reason, the idea of actually voicing it out loud is utterly terrifying - because it makes it real. It gives life to all of this. Your fear and your pain - all of it becomes real the moment you acknowledge it to the rest of the world. But you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet.

As if he can read your mind, Javier steps back into the tub and cradles your face in his hands, promising, “Anything you want, mi amor - I’m here.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, but you instantly deepen the connection, needing to be so overwhelmed by his touch and his love that you forget about everything else in existence.

Breaking apart from him - and before you can change your mind - you reach behind him and turn the water on, your body instantly tensing when the cool liquid hits your skin. You close your eyes and try to focus on the warmth of Javi’s body flush against yours as he slides a hand down your ass to lift your thigh and hook your leg around his hip. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips back to yours with a newfound purpose.

This is real - Javi is real - I’m safe in his arms, you think as Javi reaches between you and teases the head of his cock along your entrance. And when he taps it against your clit, you moan loudly from the current of electricity it sends throughout your whole body, your cries echoing off the walls of the intimate space. He rests his forehead against yours as he looks into your eyes and thrusts his entire length into your throbbing cunt.

“JAVI,” you cry out from the intense pleasure of being completely filled by him. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades with a grip that’s sure to draw blood if you press any deeper. He slowly pulls out of you only to slam his hips back into yours, swearing, “I’ve got you, hermosa - never letting you go,” he breathes into the crook of your neck as he starts to move with more rhythm.

You feel wetness on your cheeks - either from your own tears or from the water cascading down Javi’s back and splashing onto you, you don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter because all you feel - all you are - is Javi’s body connecting with yours over and over again as he brings you both closer to that state of absolute euphoria.

He fucks into you with fervor, hitting a particularly exquisite spot deep in your core, and you whimper against his shoulder when you feel the pad of his thumb press down on your clit. “Fuck, Javi - s-so good,” you praise as you thread your fingers in his damp hair and bring his lips back to yours.

You’re teetering on the brim of another earth-shattering orgasm, every snap of his hips inching you closer and closer to the edge. Then all of a sudden he’s lifting your other thigh and wrapping your leg around his waist, pinning your body against the cold tile as he drives his cock home with more urgency.

You dig your heels into his ass to push him deeper as your walls begin to clench around him. He drags his teeth along your throat as he groans, “Love the way you grip my cock - ’s fucking incredible,” he breathes into your skin and when he bites down on the region where your neck meets your shoulder, you lose all sense of reality as your orgasm takes over.

Javi follows you right over that blissful peak as his hips stutter against yours, his warmth filling you in the most primal way. He pumps into you a few more times as he comes down from his high and you bring a hand to his cheek, captivated by the lines of his face as his expression softens when he meets your eyes. You run your thumb along his bottom lip, swollen from your own lips’ passionate embrace. The warm water streaming down his face continues down your hand and onto your breast, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

Your legs slide down his body, your feet silently landing on the tile while he slowly pulls out of you. He winces from the overstimulation as you release a quiet moan. You rest your head on his shoulder, both of you still breathing hard and too exhausted to speak. You look down and watch as the water from the shower streams down his softened cock and washes away his release mixed with yours.

You feel his fingers under your chin, gently lifting your head so that you’re forced to look him in the eyes. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are glassy as they search yours, “You OK?” he asks quietly, his words nearly drowned out by the water raining down on you. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, nodding your head as his thumb strokes your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in close. You weave your arms under his and bring your hands to his shoulders, leaning your forehead against his as you whisper, “Thank you.”

You barely notice when the water goes cold some time later - the comfort of Javi’s embrace providing all the warmth you could ever need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One month later

“Are you nervous about Monday?” Connie asks you as you stand in front of your closet, trying to pick an outfit for your first day back to work.

“Not really - I’m on light duty, which basically means my ass is gonna be glued to my desk chair for the next three weeks,” you sigh as you rest your hands on hips and gnaw on your lower lip.

Truthfully, you can’t wait to get back to work, even if it’s just to sift through some boring-ass paperwork until your eyes bleed. Over the past few weeks, you’ve done nothing besides eat, sleep, read and then reread the few novels you had brought over with you from the states, and of course spend time with Javi, which obviously was your favorite pastime.

After the time you spent together in the shower that day - an activity the two of you have since enjoyed on a frequent basis - you and Javi have become closer than you ever thought was possible. You’d stay in his apartment while he went to work and he’d call you at least three times a day just to check in.

“Yes, Javi, I already ate breakfast,“ you shake your head against the phone receiver as you put the last of the dishes you just used into the sink.

“What about your meds? The doctor said you need to take them–”

“For two weeks to avoid infection, I know,” you chuckle at his probing questions, but your heart swells at the concern in his voice - no man has ever cared for your wellbeing the way Javi does and you’re still getting used to the feeling. “I’m good, Javi, I promise,” he’s silent for a minute before he responds, “I know, I–,” you hear him release a nervous breath before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper, “I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat, wishing he were here so you could comfort him and prove to him just how OK you really are. “Thank you, Javi - truly. But I don’t want you to worry about me, OK? I’ll be right here when you get home.” He hums in approval, and the baritone of his voice reverberates over the line when he says, “I like the sound of that - coming home to you.”

Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your ribcage as you take in his words - home? Sure, you were the one who just brought it up, but coming from his mouth it sounds so - tangible. Yes, you do feel at home whenever you’re with him, even if the two of you haven’t exactly discussed any plans for the future - especially given the whole Columbian drug war situation.

But when this was all over - then what? You love him and you know he loves you, but your life back in the states - back home - is completely different from this way of life. Over there it’s less demanding and, sure, not having to worry about getting kidnapped by some narcos assholes (again) is obviously a plus - but - will the love you share for one another still burn just as bright as it does here?

“Hermosa?” you hear him ask and you have to shake your head to focus, “Yeah, sorry - I’m here.”

Javi sounds uncertain when he says, “Maybe I should head home a few hours early” - and there was that word again. God, pull it together - it’s just a word. “No, no, I’m fine - besides, I told Connie I’d help her with something later tonight so there’s no reason for you to come - home - early,” the words tumble out of your mouth in one breath and you hope he doesn’t call your bluff about helping Connie tonight.

You hear someone call his name in the background and breathe a sigh of relief for the distraction, “OK, I gotta go - I’ll just - see you later then, “ he sounds annoyed, but not at you - most likely at the person who interrupted your phone call because he quickly continues with a soft, “Te quiero,” and you instantly feel at ease.

You smile and respond in a voice just as quiet, “I love you, too,” before ending the call.

“Ooh, I like that one,” Connie raves when you pull out a plum-colored button-up top to match your black pants. It’s one of your favorites actually, but then you realize how low-cut it is - low enough to show the jagged scar running down your clavicle - and suddenly the thought of wearing it out in public makes you slightly queasy.

“I think I’ll just go with that gray one,” you mumble and Connie’s expression turns to one of confusion until she realizes what the problem with the other top is, responding with a simple, “Oh, okay,” and a small smile but you see a sympathetic glint in her eyes.

It’s not that the scars themselves bother you - you’re actually starting to accept them as a part of you now, thanks to Javier’s constant reassurance as well the therapy sessions the DEA made you attend in order to be able to go back to work. No, you’re not ashamed of them, but you really don’t feel like facing the stares or, god forbid, any questions from your colleagues - at least not yet. So for now, you stick with the safer option.

There’s a knock on your apartment door and Connie stands up from where she was seated at the foot of your bed, saying, “That’s probably Steve with the food,” as she goes to open the door. Sandra, one of the secretaries at the embassy, had called you earlier that day to tell you she was going to send you some of her famous enchiladas - which were to die for - as a celebratory feast to welcome you back to work. You nearly cried from gratitude as you thanked her for her kind gesture - and also probably because you were super excited to devour those enchiladas - they were that good.

You drape your top over the sofa that sits in the corner of your bedroom and follow Connie out to the living room. As soon as she opens the door to greet her husband - who’s holding a covered tray in his hands - you’re met with the scent of chile and spices that…

Make your stomach turn violently.

You quickly rush off to the bathroom, your hand covering your nose and mouth to block out the scent that caused such a repulsive response. You barely make it to the toilet before bile rises in your throat and your stomach heaves, sending you face first into the toilet bowl. Hardly anything comes out, seeing as you hadn’t really eaten all day because you were looking forward to having the enchiladas - the thought of which has you leaning over the toilet once more.

You feel a small hand on your lower back and another holding your hair out of your face as Connie reassures you in her motherly tone, “It’s OK, you’re OK - breathe,” and you start to relax as she rubs soothing circles on your back. You cough and spit into the toilet a couple of times before you slump back against the wall, letting Connie flush the toilet for you.

You’re about to get up and grab a glass of water - and a toothbrush with a whole tube of toothpaste - when Steve steps into the doorway of the bathroom, holding a glass of water out for you to take. He looks a bit sickly himself as you quietly thank him and gulp down the entire thing. Then Connie turns to him from where she’s seated on the edge of the bathtub next to you, and says, “Could you give us a minut–”

“Yup,” he answers immediately as he’s already walking away towards the living room. The guy has seen dead bodies - the aftermath of massacres, even - but he can’t handle the sight of a little vomit, you laugh internally, your stomach still too sensitive to handle even the slightest movement. You look up at Connie who’s been silently staring you down with a suspicious look in her eye. You furrow your brow at her and ask weakly, “What?”

She’s quiet for a few more seconds before asking, “How long have you been feeling like this?” her expression is unreadable as you think of the answer to her question. “Uh, a couple of weeks I guess - I’m pretty sure it’s a side effect of the antibiotics - the doctor had me taking,” you say slowly as you take deep breaths when another wave of nausea hits you.

“But that was weeks ago, hun. You shouldn’t still be experiencing those side effects. When was–” she clamps her lips shut as if she’s second-guessing whether she should ask the next question. You raise your eyebrows expectantly as you think, spit it out, already.

“When was your last period?” her words come out rushed and it takes you a second to decipher what she’s said. You look up towards the ceiling while you think, “Like…the week before I was - before they–” you swallow hard as bile starts to rise in your throat again, but then it’s like your brain finally catches up to the conversation and you slowly start to comprehend what Connie’s implying.

Wait, no - oh, shit.

“No,” your head snaps up.

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“It can’t - I can’t be–” you trail off, too distressed to even think about finishing that thought.

“Well,” she winces as her shoulders shrug upwards, “if that was your last period - which was like over six weeks ago - then, I’m just saying, it is a possibility.” Your jaw nearly hits the floor from shock, but your brain refuses to accept the very probable truth.

“But I take birth control - for years, I’ve taken it and it’s never failed,” your heart hammers in your chest and the ringing in your ears makes you feel light-headed.

“What about when you were in the hospital? I’m pretty sure you didn’t take it while you were in a coma,” Connie suggests as she offers you a hand when you start to stand on your feet. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks and you instantly regret leaving the safety of the floor because the room starts to shift a little.

Oh, god - how’s Javi gonna react if we’re - if I’m - I’m–

“We can go to the hospital right now and have them do a blood test to be sure,” Connie holds you steady as she gently squeezes your arms with unwavering support, “I’m here for you, OK?”

–pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Aquí estoy - I’m (right) here

Te quiero - I love you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaaah shit, what’d you guys think?? I super enjoyed writing this, especially that last part 😉 any feedback is always welcome!

p.s., there’s only one chapter left! 😱😭 but I’m thinking about writing an alternate ending in addition to the last chapter - I’ll keep you posted 😁

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed)

@captainclod @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @cptnbvcks @spacegayofficial @themandjalorian @hiscyarika @mandoispunk @madadlorian @pedrolorians @forever-rogue @longitud-de-onda @certifiedskywalker @dindjarindiaries @no-droids-allowed @aerynwrites @buckyodinson @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gooddaykate @fanfiction-trashpile @arrowswithwifi @letaliabane @thinemineours @ham4arrow @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @thisainttheway @bluemoon-glen @katialvi @theforceofdarkandlight @24kgolden @livasaurasrex @c-ly-g @womp-ratt @fangirl-and-stuff @mrsparknuts @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @kimljn @fatbottomedcurls @auty-ren @mabelleen @rzrcrst @pascalisthepunkest @blushingwueen

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zaph1337 · 4 years ago

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Monster Hunter Rating 1: Apceros

So I got interested in Monster Hunter when Rise came out and have been playing the demo and it occurred to me that it would be a lot of fun to go on the wiki and look at all of the monsters! Then it occurred to me that I should rate them on Tumblr by judging them based on their appearance, behavior, and concept, among other things. The wiki makes this really easy since it lists all this stuff on the monster’s page AND has separate pages for its ecology, the things you can get by carving it, and the equipment you can make from said things (though the ecology pages have warnings which state that the info is “merely a plausible explanation for the monster(s) in this article, and may or may not be considered canon to the series,” though the pages do contain information that is apparently found in the games). I’ll be going in the order presented by this page: https://monsterhunter.fandom.com/wiki/Monster_List

I have to point out one thing first: I HAVE NOT PLAYED ANY MONSTER HUNTER GAME BESIDES THE DEMO FOR MONSTER HUNTER RISE, AND THE MOST I’VE WATCHED SOMEONE PLAY AN MH GAME IN RECENT HISTORY IS SOMEONE STREAMING RISE. The closest I’ve come to playing an MH game before the demo was Tri, which is the only one my family has, and also the worst one in the series. The tutorial was so long and boring that I just...gave up and never tried again. This means that I don’t know how monsters behave, or how easily they’re beaten, as well as someone with actual experience with the games does. Please keep in mind that my info will almost always be restricted to what the wiki tells me, and that the ratings will be based on my opinions. Finally, I don’t know how long this series of posts is gonna go on. I doubt that I’ll be able to go over every monster before I decide to just give up, but I’m gonna go as far as I can go.

So, now that those blocks of text are out of the way, let’s start the Monster Hunter Rating with Apceros!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter World)

Appearance: Well, this is a slow start. It’s just a potentially-scientifically-inaccurate ankylosaurid. Okay, that’s not exactly true. The tail spikes are more characteristic of nodosaurids, but those don’t have clubs at all, yet Apceros has both, which is kind of interesting. Also, rather than having a back covered with several plates, Apceros has a shell-like covering reminiscent of tortoises. Overall, it has a few interesting details, but if you don’t know a lot about ankylosaurids, then these will likely be lost on you. 5/10.

Behavior: Apceros may not be one of the monsters you’d get into a lengthy fight with, but that doesn’t mean that they’re gentle. These things live in desert and volcanic environments, which is the last place you’d expect a large herbivore to live, especially a species that lives in herds. Perhaps because food’s so scarce (okay, the fact that monsters and hunters keep stealing their freaking eggs might also have something to do with it), Apceros are extremely territorial; they won’t just chase you out of their territory--no, the moment you step foot near them, they want you DEAD. But you might not notice this at first, because their strategy is to slowly stalk intruders in a way that allows the herd to totally surround them. Can you imagine how intimidating it would be just...walk past these things and suddenly realize that you’ve been surrounded by angry tanks of bone and spikes? I don’t know how effective this tactic is in the games, but in concept, it’s pretty cool. 7/10.

Abilities: Apart from their encirclement tactic, Apceros do exactly what it looks like they’d do in a fight. They hit you with their tail clubs to gore you and crush your ribcage in at the same time, and if you’re right in front of them, they’ll just headbutt you. Since they aren’t the Main Monsters, as I’ll call them, it makes sense that they have no special abilities, but it’s still kinda meh. 4/10.

Equipment: There is no equipment based specifically on Apceros. There are weapons you can make from some of its carves, such as the Bone Kris which can be made from Small Monster Bones, but those are carves that can be dropped from multiple monsters, so I won’t count those. 0/10 by default.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Apceros seems like a good monster to use to introduce this series of posts; it’s plain enough that it’s easy to understand, yet it has some subtle complexities that let you know that it’s not a normal animal. I look forward to getting to talk about some more interesting monsters, but if I had to start somewhere, I’m glad it’s here. 5/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #zaph1337

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ellana-ravenwood · 6 years ago

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The first time they called you “mom” - Batmom x Batboys

I...Did not plan on writing this. But today, I wanted to reply to some asks about the Batfam (more particularly about Batmom), and um...Well I got so carried away on the very first question I tried to reply to, that I ended up writing a full fic about it and I guess I’ll answer other asks later ^^'. So anyway, here we go, the title is pretty self-explanatory, hope you’ll like it :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Dick.

“And here we go Dickie. Now, you’re a true pirate.”

You say, as you adjust an oversized tricorn on the boy’s head. He moves a bit too quickly to peak at his look in a mirror, and the hat falls back on his forehead. And oh it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, him turning back to you and trying to look at you from below it.

Once again, you place the tricorn back as best you can, smoothing the huge peacock feather planted on its side while you’re at it. You hold it in place for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall again, trying to figure out a way to balance it on his ears, and say :

“We really need to get you a hat your size...This one is way too big, it’ll get in the way if you have to fight for the treasure !”

He looks at you with sparkling eyes...Well, with one sparkling eye. A “true pirate” obviously wears an eye-patch ! He looks at you with that one, bright blue sparkling eye, and with the deepest voice his little nine years old vocal cords can muster, he says :

“Arrrr, a simple hat won’t get in the way of me getting my treasure ! I’ll throw it at the ruffian who wants to steal my gold from me, distract them, and then I’ll...make them fall on their butt ! ”

You chuckle and shake your head, utterly charmed, once again, by this little boy. Really, how could you resist such a sweet smile ? His cuteness emphasized by the fact that he just lost a few of his front teeth.

“That’s a very nice technique little one ! Show me how you’d do it !”

He jumps a bit in the air out of excitement, and takes a few steps back from you. Harboring a fighting stance, he unsheathed the wooden rapier you made for him, and the gesture makes the hat immediately fall on his eyes again...But he takes hold of it with his hand that isn’t holding his sword, and throws it at an imaginary enemy.

He then stabs the air, yells a very piratey “Aaarrrrr” and tackle his made-up opponent fiercely. Getting back up on his feet, he takes his hat again and put it on his head and say, proudly, looking at the empty spot in front of him :

“Stay on your butt, you miscreant ! Captain Grayson wins again !”

But as he takes his victory pose, the tricorn falls on his eyes again, kinda ruining the moment. He turns to you, lifting it up and says :

“...Maybe I need a smaller one.”

You chuckle as he comes to you a bit pitifully, hat in hands. But then in a matter of seconds a smile is back on his face and he says :

“Hey, this can be yours instead ! My second in command needs a fancy pirate hat ! This would look great on you !”

He puts the hat on your head, it fits. And his sweet smile widens. He mouth the word “perfect”, as you say, a bit mischievously :

“Oh ? I’m your second in command ? You sure you wanna give me that much responsibilities ? What if I commit mutiny ?”

“Oh you would never !”

“How can you be so sure ?”

“I just know you wouldn’t !”

“But what if I want all the gold for me ?”

“Nah, you’re not like that ! You don’t care about rich people things ! I know because you say no to a lot of things Bruce wanna give ya ! Now, if you were Miss Kyle I’d be a bit worried. Because she would definitely try to steal the treasure for herself. She likes fancy things ! Nothing wrong with that of course, I like fancy things too ! But I wouldn’t make her my second in command...but you’re you, not her !”

Your smile falls from your face immediately. Ugh. This is so ridiculous. You don’t want to act like that, jealousy really doesn’t look good on you (though Bruce would argue that you look cute, when jealous).

Selina Kyle is such an extraordinary woman that you can’t help but compare yourself to her, wondering why Bruce ended up choosing you. You and him had been together for a while now, but from time to time, your insecurities would surge again. In the worst moments possible.

Like right now, as you were having fun with Dickie.

You force a smile back on your face as the boy comes to sit next to you. He looks deep in thoughts before turning back to you and saying :

“She’s pretty. Miss Kyle.”

“She is pretty.”

“You’re prettier.”

Oh. Oh that dear boy. You felt a bit silly that even an eight year old noticed you were bummed out by just him mentioning her name, and that he felt obligated to cheer you up. You ruffle his hair and say :

“You’re too sweet.”

“For real ! Only saying what I think...Plus you’re nicer.”

“Selina is very nice.”

It’s true. Selina was really nice. When she realized Bruce was totally head over heels for you, and that you were a bit insecure...She completely stepped down. And started to actually flirt with you, definitely boosting your ego (I wrote a fic about that, now I can’t link it because if I do it this won’t appear in the search since Tumblr “killed” links, but you can find on the Batmom’s master list, it’s called “Insecurities schmunsecurities”.)

She actually became a close friend of yours, over the month. She was a very supportive one at that, which made you feel even guiltier that from times to times, you found yourself jealous of her. Or afraid Bruce will realize the mistake he made and go back to her, leaving you (you will realize overtime that this will never happen, that this is a ridiculous thought, Bruce being too deep in love with you).

You hate the fact you think those things, but you can’t help it. You can’t get over all your insecurities in a matter of seconds. It’ll take years, for you to finally see things for what they are...That Selina moved on and is only friend with Bruce now. That she would never even think of trying to steal Bruce away, because that’s not who she is. That Bruce doesn’t see her as anything else but as a good friend. That he’s in love with you, and only sees you.

Yes...It’ll take time for you to get over all this confidence issues and...Dick’s voice takes you out of your thoughts :

“Oh yes yes. She’s nice. But she um...how to say ? She’s cool. And was never mean to me. But I don’t think she cared that much about me.”

“Aw sweety, I’m sure she likes you.”

“I know she does. She thinks I’m cute”

You can’t help but chuckle at the kid’s confidence. Haha, maybe you should take his example ? Dick continues :

“But she doesn’t...care. Not like you at least. She cared a lot about Bruce, but she just kinda liked me, you know ? While you...You like, took Bruce and I in the same package ? She likes me, but she had no intention to be to me what you and Bruce are. You know ?”

“What do you mean ?”

You ask, smoothing the tricorn’s feather absentmindedly. On that very moment, you didn’t quite realize what the kid was getting at...His next words make your heart race with joy :

“Like...like a mom and dad ?”

He says shyly, looking up to you before avoiding your gaze.

Silence fills the room. You want to say something, but you’re too touched and every words die in your tied throat. You’re trying very hard not to cry, in fact. But the silence stretches and Dick wiggles nervously next to you.

Finally, he talks first, and his shaky voice breaks your heart :

“Am I...am I a terrible son ?”

“What ?”

Is the only stupid thing you can say.

“My mommy and daddy died only a year ago. And I miss them so much. Every day. But it’s getting easier ? Because you and Bruce are here ? Sometimes I almost call you...Sometimes I...wanna call you and Bruce...I want to...I...”

Tears are welling up in the boy’s eyes, and you could slap yourself for still being unable to say anything. Because what he’s saying ? You’re feeling it deep inside your bones. Your heart. Your entire being.

You don’t know when it happened exactly, but you’ve been considering him your son for a while now. You know you’d do anything for him. And hearing him say that he considers you his...his...That he wants to call you...It’s too much for your heart. And you can’t say anything.

But you can do something. You reach for him, remove his eye patch to truly take a good look at him and...You bring him in your arms, holding him tight against your heart, so he can hear how happy it made you that he...that he...

Later. Later you’d tell him that you knew for sure his parents wouldn’t mind if he called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. That his parents would forever be that, his parents. And because of this, they would want for him to be happy. To move on and not get stuck (like a certain Dark Knight).

That he wasn’t a terrible son for only remembering the good times with them. That he wasn’t a terrible son if he didn’t always go see them and their graves. That he wasn’t a terrible son if he found a family again...

Later. Later you’d tell him all that.

For now, you just held him tight against your heart, hugging him with all the love you could give. And in a whisper, holding onto you for dear life, he says :

“...Mom...”

************

Jason.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaare you gonna take me home tonight? Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, down beside that red fir’light Aaaaaaaaaaaaare you gonna let it all hang out? Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go 'round”

Your voice mixes with Jason’s, as you skid down the floor in Wayne manor, wearing socks (they slide really well on the wooden parquet) and pajamas.

Jason is holding an oversized bowl filled with sugary junk food. Ice cream, popcorn, candies, loads of sprinkles ! And you’re using a whipped cream canister as a mic...Those things are probably what got you both on a very big sugar high !

This morning, Jason had a mild fever. A certain Bruce kinda freaked out and allowed him to stay home instead of going to school...Which fell perfectly well with your one day off this week !

Jason got over his fever before lunch time, and was getting bored.

Enter you, with a stereo on your shoulder, blasting Queen. The boy jumped on his feet, abandoning the animated show he was watching to follow you into the kitchen, overly excited. You always came up with great and fun activities !

You guys started to mix every single dessert that were available in the Manor in a big mixing bowl, singing the lines of “Don’t stop me now, ‘Cause I’m having a gooood time, having a good tiiiime” to Alfred as he pointed out all of that wasn’t very healthy...The butler gave up quickly, seeing how Jason and you seemed to be beaming with joy.

With a fond smile on his face he left the two of you alone saying a quick “clean after yourself please”, and ignored the fact that young Master Jason was climbing on the kitchen counter and was air guitaring the solo of the song, walking in and spreading sprinkles EVERYWHERE.

And now, a few minutes later, you were dancing all around the mansion, holding your huge bowl of desserts and a whipped cream canister.

Jason was standing on the living room’s coffee table, opening his mouth as you filled it with whipped cream, while you continued to sing :

“Hey I was just a skinny lad -you point at Jason, who takes a huge spoonful of ice cream - Never knew no good from bad But I knew life before I left my nursery, huh Left alone with big fat Fanny She was such a naughty nanny Heap big woman, you made a bad boy out of me Hey hey!”

You’re aware the song is a bit inappropriate for an eight years old boy...But he doesn’t really understand the lyrics and the tune is so catchy that you couldn’t care less. Plus it’s too cute to see how he wiggles his little butt to the rhythm. That kid really knew how to dance.

You’re sliding down the corridors now. Your slippers had been discarded somewhere in the house a while ago, so you could slide properly all around the wooden and marble floors.

Jason dances happily following after you, the huge boom box on your shoulder not hindering any of your movements.

He takes a spoonful of dessert and puts it in your mouth, a wide smile spread on his face as he misses on purpose and spread ice cream all over your chin.

You laugh and stick your tongue out to him, as the song continues :

“I've been singing with my band Across the wire, across the land I seen every blue eyed floozy on the way, hey But their beauty and their style Went kind of smooth after a while Take me to them dirty ladies every time”

Yes. Lyrics definitely not appropriate. But Jason is having too much fun to realize what any of this is about. Plus he’s still such a pure and innocent little boy, you know he has no idea what most of this means.

You’re in the house’s main hall now, where the acoustic is the best, and you both sings your lungs out. You settle the boombox on the floor, and spray a large amount of whip cream in your mouth before giving some more to Jason.

Putting away dessert and canister, you take his hands and start jumping around the room. Just for the happy face the kid makes, all this is worth it.

“C'mon! Oh, won't you take me home tonight? Oh, down beside your red firelight Oh, and you give it all you got Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round”

Jason is definitely not sick anymore, and his giggles fill the house. You chase after him all around the main hall, and when you finally catch up to him he burst into a loud laughter, drowning the rest of the song with it.

It’s contagious, as you start to crack up too, unable to stop. It’s only when the song comes to an end and the CD does too with it, the music stopping altogether, that your laughter subsides.

Jason frowns and, turning to you, exclaims :

“Again mom, please please, again !”

On the moment, neither of you even realize he just called you “mom”. It felt THAT natural. THAT normal. He had been in your life for months now, and this was just the definite next step to take.

Later on, it’ll finally hit you and you’ll give him the biggest hug of them all. And for him ? Well he always wanted a caring mother, but wasn’t gifted with one at birth...So your existence was truly salvation.

But that would come later. For now, you didn’t even notice him calling you “mom”, and he didn’t even realize he called you that, as you turned the music back on and were both dancing around the manor again, eating way too much dessert. Oh well, you’d worry about bellyaches later !

************

Cassandra

Cassandra didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak.

When she needed to communicate, she’d mainly use sign language.

She wasn’t mute. She could make sounds, use her voice.

But she...never really learned to talk. Her biological father raised her to be the ultimate weapon, and cut her out of any social contact to try to achieve this.

The only encounters with other people she had, was to fight...Which resulted in her being unable to speak.

Bruce brought her home two years ago.

And those two years were filled with a big personal journey for Cassandra.

She communicated through vague hand gestures and drawing, at first. Then eventually learned sign language. You and Bruce spend hours and hours with her and videos, teaching it to her, as she still seemed to be unable to speak. As if something stopped her from doing so...

She learned how to interact with other people, without fighting or killing.

She...She learned to know that she was worthy. That redemption was attainable. That it wasn’t her fault.

Bruce was sweet, with Cassandra. More delicate than with his sons. Maybe it was because she was a girl, maybe it was because she was more broken than any of them (at the time, Damian wasn’t in your life yet). More forgiving, too, as even after he discovered her past and the fact she started to kill when she was barely eight, he didn’t give up on her. On the contrary.

He actually settled to teach her his own values. No kill. Justice. All that. And she listened. Eagerly. Abiding by his rules willingly, understanding the worth of all lives. Slowly getting over what the man who called himself his father taught her, over all this pain and misery she went through since she was born.

And you ? Well you, you made it your mission to teach her about anything and everything. To show her the World, the one she was deprived of all those years.

You started things slow and easy, as to not overwhelm her.

You showed her your favorite movies and TV shows. Put on some music and talked about your favorite bands. You talked and talked and talked, hoping that maybe she’d copy you at some point ? Try to make a sound ?

But she only listened. Eagerly. However no words came out of her mouth.

Eventually, you moved on to things you didn’t particularly like music, movie or book wise, because you wanted her to experience “everything”. To catch up.

She seemed to like it, so you kept going. She liked movies you hated, and vice versa. She was forming her own personality, and wasn’t trying to copy you, or to agree to everything you said. You made sure she knew it was safe to be herself, when she was with you (and with the rest of the fam). It was good.

After a while, you took her with you on outings in Gotham. She only ever saw the city from the roofs, as she roamed them looking for her targets.

It was such a joy, to see her eyes go wide at the sight of some shops. Or to touch trees, lost in her thoughts. Looking at ducks on the pond. Being overly excited about giving bread to said ducks.

She became a big fan of hot dogs, and whenever she saw a cart would point at it excitedly and smile at you. You could never resist, even if Alfred would scold you afterward because you guys ate right before lunch time.

You went to see movies at the cinema with her, took her to concerts. You took her to the mall, thinking maybe she’ll like clothes and such...And she did. Albeit not exactly what people would think. She took a liking to the “punk subculture”. And to be honest, ripped jeans, spiked necklaces, platform shoes and such fitted her perfectly.

She went through multiple hair color phase, and each time, you supported her and dyed her hair however she liked. Because in your opinion, a teen should go through those phases !

But she still wasn’t speaking.

Two years. Two years of you helping her discovering the world, while Bruce taught her his principles. Two years of sign language, and slowly learning she wasn’t a bad person.

Two years. But not one word.

You were still hopeful though. She made such progress, since she first arrived. You kept all her drawings, when she was communicating only with those, and...It broke your heart, how her first drawings always represented her as if she was the worst person in the world.

When she met you and Bruce, saw your life, she blamed herself for so much. Both you and your husband reassured her though. She knew her past actions were wrong, which was more than most even realized ! Plus, it wasn’t her fault. It was all her “father”. All the man who turned her in a weapon.

Because when she was finally given the choice to “repent”, she took it without hesitation. She followed Bruce. She left behind all this pain and violence to start a new life.

Two years. For two years she followed that path. And she was great at it. You were convinced this kid was a deep empath...She cared a lot.

But she still didn’t speak.

You didn’t intend on giving up though. You knew one day or another she’ll find the strength to talk. But the healing process to come back from this past life of hers was long and laborious.

She couldn't be fixed in two seconds. She needed time. So in the meantime, you’d settle on showing her everything you knew, helping her experience the “real” world.

You were showing her one of your favorite TV show, “Gilmore Girls” when it happened. The show was mainly focused around the deep bond between a mother and her daughter, which in retrospect...Well, it made sense that it happened when you were watching this.

You were starting the third season when...

“Mom.”

At first, you didn’t quite register what had just happened. You were so used to her silence. In your head, it wasn’t possible that this sound you just heard came from her.

“Mom ?”

But it did. The main character from the show, Lorelai, was having one of her most famous quirky moments, it was one of your favorite scene and...you slowly turned towards your daughter. Your daughter ? Um ? When did you start to consider her as such ?

The first day she entered your life, a little voice answered in the back of your head. And it was true. Cassandra became “yours” as soon as she sat foot in the batcave, with her lost little eyes and inability to properly communicate.

“Mom.”

She says again, pointing at the TV. At Lorelai, the main character and the “mom” of the show. You were so shocked, that you could only nod.

Yes. Mom.

Cassandra smiled, apparently satisfied of your reaction. She pointed at the screen again, and said :

“Good...mom.”

You nodded again. Yes. Yes Lorelai was a good mother. She turned back to you, pointed at you this time and said :

“You...”

You ?

“Better.”

Better ? Uh ?

“You. -she pointed at herself - My -she was pointing at you now-...mom. Yes ?”

Your heart stopped. You felt like you were dying. Those few words...Those few words overwhelmed you.

Two years. Two years Cassandra stayed silent, occasionally interacting through sign language, but mostly listening. Smiling, nodding, being curious...

Two years of silence.

And when Cassandra finally found her voice. When she was finally able to speak...

“Yes Cassie. Yes. Your mom. Yours. I’m...”

You said, chocking on your own voice, barely audible, as you brought her into a hug.

“You. The one. Cannot speak now.”

Cassandra says, amusement in her voice. And it’s true, this time...this time you’re the one struggling to get any words out.

Two years of silence finally broken, as your daughter found her voice.

“You. My mom.”

************

Tim.

You were so, so, so so so so so SO proud.

Tears filled your eyes, as you saw him on the stage, holding proudly his trophy.

Things were made even more beautiful because...This was a normal moment, in a normal kid’s life. This didn’t involve capes, too many coffees and hours of sleep spend on the computer instead of in a bed.

This was all...Normal.

Tim had been in yours and Bruce’s life for a few years now. At first, his parents were still alive so he still lived with them...but they never noticed when he was gone. Parents of the year right ? When they died, it seemed logical to adopt him as your own.

He was such a smart boy, guessing at the mere age of eight who Batman really was, while no one else in Gotham seemed to have a clue.

But because he was so damn intelligent, his life...His life really hadn’t been normal. All of your kids’ life wasn’t quite normal, but you somehow always managed to give them a semblance of normality. By playing with them, by being silly with them etc etc.

But Tim ? Well. Tim was too focused. Tim never quite really acted like a normal boy. He reminded you a lot of Bruce, but Bruce was a grown ass man now. And even him, according to Alfred, had his moments of being a kid even after his parents’ death. He also lived eight blissful years being the most spoiled child in the World...

But Tim ? Tim never acted like a boy his age. Sure, he played sometimes. And he joined in on Disney movie night. He would accept your cuddles and affectionate hair ruffling any time. He loved when you read him a bed time story...But those moments were so rare !

So here, right now, at his school’s science fair...You were just incredibly proud and happy. Because it just felt like he was a normal kiddo.

Still smart as hell, sure, but that he had “normal” worries.

That very same morning, he was so stressed and scared of not winning the fair. That his experience wouldn’t work. That he’d be ridiculous.

He had “normal” kid of his age worries ! Albeit, you wished he didn’t had any worries at all, but it was nice to see him act just like all the other ten years old at the fair.

It was also nice to see he had many friends at his school. That he wasn’t a loner, that he didn’t isolate himself like he sometimes did at home.

If you didn’t go look for Tim to spend time with him, he would get lost in his work and never come out of his room. Forgetting to sleep and eat. He was way too dedicated...Well. Again. He reminded you a lot of Bruce.

But here he was, being a normal boy, proud to present his work at a normal science fair.

Of course, you and Bruce came to see him. And he seemed so happy, when he saw you coming in the room.

It kinda broke your heart, that he wasn’t sure if you would come or not. He did reserve you some seats though, in the front.

“I’m not sure I’ll win, I probably won’t but...I’m glad you came !”

You saw him worked on his project for the past six months, and it was amazing. Maybe it’s because he was your son but you were sure he’d win.

Wait. Your son ? Um...no. No question mark.

Yes. Your son.

He still called you and Bruce by your first name, but in your heart, he was your son. Yours.

And oh, seeing him so proud and happy to show you his work, and to introduce you to his friends...it was such a joy !

Plus, it was so rare to hear him blabber about normal subject. It made your heart beat with happiness when he whispered in your hear that he had a crush on the girl whose project was just next to his. She was a “smart cookie”.

You and Bruce teased him a bit about it, just enough so that he would still tell you things afterward and not be vexed or anything like that.

He showed you around his school, and...He just talked so much ! It was great.

And then...Then the day arrived to its end.

He was sitting between you and Bruce, holding yours and Bruce’s hand tightly to his forehead as if to give him courage, waiting eagerly for the result of the contest and...His name. It’s his name they called.

People applauded, but no one quite cheered him on as much as you and Bruce. You whistled, yelled “YAAAAY TIMMMMMYYY !!” while Bruce was telling to whoever was listening that it was “his son”.

The boy climbed on the stage, and was handed his trophy.

And oh you were so proud. And he looked so happy, so far from the dark world he lived in at times...Seeing him so happy, made you happy.

Just like seeing him sad made you sad. He was your son. Your little boy. You wanted only the best for him, and sometimes it was so difficult to give it to him...

Not today though. No. Today, you were glad you encouraged him to take part in the science fair contest. Because oh he just looked so joyful !

The teacher asked him if he wanted to give a quick speech, and you got a bit worried. Tim was such an introvert, public speaking was definitely not something he enjoyed.

And yet, yet he grabbed the mic excitedly and yelled :

“Mom ! Dad ! I won ! Look ! Look I have a trophy !! Look it’s almost as big as me ! Look mom !! Look dad look !!”

He was trotting all around the stage, under people’s fond laugh. Everyone was definitely thinking about how cute that little kid was ! And he was...yours !

No more first names. “Mom”. “Dad”. And he won. The trophy...The trophy was really almost as big as him (damn private school and their bling bling).

You were an absolutely blubbering mess by the time he jumped down back to the seat and showed off proudly his trophy to you, calling you “mom” and “dad” repeatedly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it was. Because he was yours. Your little boy...

************

Damian.

“Stop, stooooop ! I’m fine, I really am ! Oh my god unhand me now !!”

Damian tried to wiggle out of your grasp, but you were holding onto him too tightly for him to be able to. Exasperated to the maximum, he yelled :

“MOM, LET ME GO AT ONCE !! I’M OKAY !!!”

This did the trick. You let go off him and just stared at him, shocked.

What did he just call you ?

He looked at you and let out a nervous chuckle. He...He didn’t really mean to call you that.

Or rather, he meant to do so for a long time, but never dared. Because what if you didn’t want to be his mom ? What if you didn’t want him as a son ? He wasn’t technically yours, after all.

Now of course, none of your kids were technically yours, and yet you accepted all of them. But Damian...Damian was actually Bruce’s son. So he thought...He thought maybe you hated him for existing ? Even though he was conceived before you got with Bruce ?

Damian was overthinking. And he never overthought. Not on such matters at least. Because you know what ? He was so sure he didn’t care about you, at first. So sure it didn’t matter if you didn’t like him, because you were just “the woman married to his father”.

But then...Then he changed his mind. Because even though he wasn't yours, and even though he was really mean to you, you still treated him like you treated your other children.

Even though he was a brat who insulted you many times...You never got mad at him. Sure, you got a bit snarky a few times, but just enough to make him realize he was being ridiculous, and yet not ridiculing him.

You even stopped Bruce from getting mad at him (your husband had the tendency to always jump in to defend your honor, even if you could defend yourself just fine...it was actually rather cute, in the end).

Instead, you just accepted him as he was. You withstand his tantrums, not batting an eye. You listened to his rant, without ever scolding him, but instead conversing with him. Trying to show him another point of view.

Damian didn’t want to get attached to you...But it just kinda..Happened.

He had been wanting to call you “mom” for a while, by now, but never dared. Because he was afraid you’d reject him, even if you shown nothing but understanding to him. He just...Well, he wasn’t sure his heart could bear your rejection.

He never really had a real loving mother. Instead of good night kisses, his mother left him beaten half to death in his bed, left him to take care of himself.

He never had bed time stories, but assassins send in the middle of the night to train him to be always vigilant. He never had cuddles, but punches.

And sure, he had encouraging words, but they were all about him becoming ruthless and heartless, and one day ruling the world. Not about him being close to beating his high score in a video game !

No. He never had...Someone like you. A real mother...A mom. And he was afraid that if he finally called you “mom”, the spell would be broken. You would be weirded out, and things would change.

But tonight...Tonight as he came back to the bat cave, something snapped in him. That night, his intercom broke in a fight and you were worried sick that something might have happened to him as you had no news.

And when he came back, and only had a few bruises and cuts...You just couldn’t hold yourself anymore. You were completely unaware of Damian’s inner turmoil about calling you “mom”, because for you...he was your son.

He became your son that first time he finally warmed up to you, finally smiled at you and said “yes” to playing a simple board game with you. And you thought you made it clear enough that you considered him your son...But oh, to Damian, who wasn’t used to it, of course it would be scary. And of course he would be unsure if he understood things well or not.

As soon as he came in the cave, and you saw he was unharmed, you rushed to him and took him in your arms. Making sure not to touch his bruises and cuts.

And that’s when it happened.

That’s when Damian struggled against your hug because oh my god he was fine ok ?! No need to worry that much !!

That’s when Damian said, in the most natural way ever, “mom”. Because of course...of course only a mother could be THAT worried about him. Right ?

That night, something truly snapped inside him. Suddenly, everything made sense. Yes. Of course.

“Really mom, I’m fine.”

His siblings, his father and Alfred were all looking at him, a wide smile on their faces. His brothers and his sister remembering the day they themselves first called you “mom”.

And you ? Well, you had one of your famous “burst of affection” all of a sudden, and grabbed onto your son, crying and saying :

“My baby boyyyyyyyyyy !!”

It made Damian incredibly happy, those few words...Even as you were almost suffocating him under your hugs and kisses.

____________________________________________

I feel like I wrote a lot of stuffs talking about what Batmom means to those kids. Talking about how they feel about her and vice versa. But I realized I never wrote about that first time they called her...”mom”. If you want all the background infos about how everything came to be, go check my other “Batmom x Batkids” fics (especially the sad ones at the end of the list, if you know what I mean) :). Anyway I hope you liked this thing I wrote on the spur of the moment, and as usual, feedbacks and reblogs = LIFE. On that note, it’s very VERY late (again, I got carried away) so I’m off to bed. See ya soon !

PS : If you’re wondering why Duke does not appear, simple reason : while he’s a member of the Batfam and all, I don’t think he considers Bruce (and by extension Batmom) like a dad (and so mom). Bruce is definitely a mentor. And he takes care of him while his parents are “sick”...But Duke’s parents are still alive, and there will eventually be a cure for what they have. Know what I mean ? I feel like Duke is more like a “cousin”, a “nephew”, than a son. HOWEVER, to compensate the fact I didn’t write about him here...I’ll write an entire fic just about him and how he fits in the Batfam. Because I can. Bam.

PPS : Appreciate this cute Dick Grayson from Earth 42. Imagine him looking like this in the fic, but with a pirate costume. Cute lil Dickie. Also, his story was the longest out of all the Batboys because I realized he’s the one I made interact with Batmom the least. And Damian’s is the shortest one because I wrote a LOT of stuffs with him bonding with Batmom :).

7K notes · View notes

wingedquill · 4 years ago

Text

a love that makes you shiver

@geraltwhumpweek

Title: a love that makes you shiver

Ships: Geralt/Jaskier

Prompt Day: Day 4, Betrayal

Medium: Netflix

Warnings: Hypothermia and Frostbite, Evil!Jaskier, Unhappy Ending, Emotional Abuse/Manipulation

Word Count: 2,606

Author’s Note: This is the first in what will become a series of one-shots by me and @bamf-jaskier. Watch this space on AO3! Also, I’ve been neglecting to post the past few days’ ficlets on tumblr, so my apologies for that.

The first thing Geralt notices is the cold.

He still feels a bit floaty, when he wakes, like he’s still half-dreaming, and the sound around him is muffled and hazy. But he instantly feels the chill, creeping over his skin and burrowing down to his bones. His lungs stutter in his chest, seizing against the frigid air, and he curls his heavy limbs in closer to himself, trying to preserve his body heat.

A soft, familiar laugh filters through the haze.

“You know,” a voice says lightly, conversationally. “That was the first thing you told me about witchers. That you can’t stand the cold.”

Geralt’s eyes flutter open.

Snow. Trees. Jaskier, smiling down at him like he always does when he wakes up before Geralt. Jaskier, smiling down at him from the other side of a set of heavy-looking bars.

That last detail is what kicks Geralt into panicked motion. He shoves himself up on shaking arms, hissing as his fingers slip across the cold snow, and staggers to his feet. Jaskier watches him with….amusement? Pity? Indifference? Geralt can’t tell. He can’t readhim.

He only knows it can’t be Jaskier.

He spins around in a slow circle, confirming that the bars surround him on all sides, a metal cage in the middle of the snowy woods.

“The perfect prison, don’t you think?” not-Jaskier continues, his eyes shining bright blue against the blur of white around them.

“W-what-“ Geralt starts, and clamps down on his chattering teeth.

“What did I do? Spiked your food last night, dragged you here when you passed out. Well, contacted my associates and had them drag you here. But same difference really.” He waves his hand carelessly. “You won’t be meeting any of my associates anyway. I’m the one assigned to you.”

Assigned to him? What in the seven hells did that mean?

“What did you do with Jaskier?” Geralt snarls. He stalks forward as he speaks, reaching out to grab the bars. As soon as he makes contact, his fingers burn, sharper and brighter and worse than the pain caused by the cold. He yelps and lets go, looking down at his hands to see blisters forming on his fingers.

“That one took you a while to tell me,” not-Jaskier says. “The silver sensitivity. You were so ashamedof it, so convinced it would make me leave you. So sure it would make me see you as a monster.”

He laughs at that, a sharp, unamused sound that Geralt has never heard come out of Jaskier’s throat before, and never wants to hear again. Rage floods him, rage that a doppler would dare steal his love’s face, his voice, his laugh. Dare twist them in this way.

“But darling, I’ve always thought you were a monster,” not-Jaskier says, stepping closer to the bars. “And nothing you did could’ve made me leave you.”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me what you did with Jaskier.”

Not-Jaskier tilts his head, smiling still.

“You think I’m a doppler,” he says. “Oh, that’s rich. What, you don’t think your little songbird has the capacity to hurt you?”

Geralt growls in his throat, low and warning.

“Scary. I’d be terrified, if I were in that cage with you.”

It’s the same sort of insult Geralt has heard Jaskier lob at countless posturing drunks in countless shitty taverns, rolling his eyes as someone tried to drag him into a fight. Dopplers know everything about a person, he reminds himself. That’s what makes them so dangerous.

“But I’m not,” not-Jaskier says. Another step forward. “And I’m not a doppler, either.”

He reaches out and wraps his hand around one of the silver bars. Geralt waits, expecting to hear a sizzle of burning flesh, a scream, a curse as not-Jaskier’s skin melted away to reveal the snow white flesh of a doppler.

Nothing.

“See?” not-Jaskier—or—or—no—says, letting go of the bar to show Geralt his uninjured, unmelted hand. “A hundred percent human.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt chokes. Because this is Jaskier. This is his lover, standing outside a fucking cagethat he’s locked Geralt in, studying Geralt like he’s a particularly interesting beast. “Jaskier, what—why—why the fuck are you doing this?”

Jaskier sighs.

“I wish I didn’t have to, dear heart,” he says.

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

Jaskier clucks disapprovingly, moving away from the bars.

“Vulgar as always,” he sighs. “No appreciation for more elegant language. That’s one of things I hope changes about you.”

“What.”

“Why am I doing this?” Jaskier sighs, sweeping his arms to indicate the cage, the woods around them. “I’m saving you from yourself, my love. That has always been the goal. Saving all you poor, monstrous witchers from yourselves.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” Jaskier says. “Everything will make sense in just a little while longer. I just need you to hold on a little bit more, can you do that for me?”

“Do I have a godsdamned choice?”

“Not really,” Jaskier laughs. “Good point.”

Geralt sinks to the ground. His head is spinning. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years of walking the path with Jaskier by his side and he—he locked Geralt up and watched as he froze and called him a monster. He doesn’t know which one of those things hurts the most.

“Don’t worry, dear monster,” Jaskier says, kneeling down in the snow on the other side. The smirk has slid off his face, and there’s sadness in his eyes, like he actually cares about what’s going through Geralt’s head. “I still love you. That’s why I’m doing this. I swear you’ll understand. I swear you’ll thank me.”

“When I get out of here,” Geralt growls. “I’m putting a sword through your heart. Silver.”

Jaskier sighs. He sounds almost disappointed.

“You’ll understand,” he says, getting to his feet. “You’ll understand very soon.”

Geralt doesn’t dignify it with an answer. He just curls up on his side with his back to Jaskier, tucking his hands under his armpits to keep them warm.

“I’ll be back soon,” Jaskier says.

The snow crunches under his feet as he leaves, and when Geralt can’t hear his footsteps anymore, he finally lets the tears fall. They trace hot lines over his frozen face, burning and burning and burning like silver, like frost, like the broken heart beating coal-hot and heavy in his chest. A sob bursts out of his throat and he bites down on his fist, shoulders shaking, trying to muffle any other traitorous noises.

You can cry around me,Jaskier said once, when Geralt was trying to battle back tears over yet another innocent he’d failed to save. It’s okay. You don’t have to be invincible.

Had he laughed to himself later? Congratulated himself on getting the monster to cry for him? On putting yet another crack in Geralt’s armor?

Stop crying, he tells himself as more tears stream over his face. Stop crying, stop crying, stop—

But it’s his lover of ten years, his best friend of twenty, he’s known Jaskier for twenty five fucking years. So he doesn’t stop crying for a very long time. And when he does, he doesn’t feel the relief that usually comes after tears, the relaxed feeling in his chest, the clean peace that comes with letting go of something heavy. He just feels exhausted, and numb, and still so fucking sad.

The numbness might come from the cold admittedly. He flexes his fingers, wincing when they’re slow to bend to his command. If he stays out here much longer, he’s going to get frostbite.

Jaskier would probably like that.

Gods.

He battles off another round of tears and sits back up, shivers running up and down his body as he does so. He needs to keep moving, keep his blood pumping, if he wants to survive this. He doesn’t know why Jaskier would have locked him in here if not to kill him from hypothermia, and Geralt isn’t giving him the fucking satisfaction.

He turns around, facing the front of the cage, where Jaskier had been. His footsteps are already mostly filled in with snow. Hanging on a tree branch some ten feet from the cage, an ornate silver key twirls in the freezing wind. It’s a delicate thing. A pretty thing. The thing that would set Geralt free, dangling just out of his reach.

Jaskier is taunting him.

He can’t hold back the tears at that realization.

***

His hands are freezing.

His hands are burning.

His hands are fucking dying.

***

By the time Jaskier comes back, the air has frozen in Geralt’s throat and he can barely move his fingers. They’ve gone all whitish-blue at the tips, a sure sign of frostbite setting in. Dread coils in Geralt’s throat as he stares at them, as he desperately tries to curl his hand into a fist. It listens to him, but slowly, clumsily.

Fuck. Fuck it all to hell.

“Oooo, that doesn’t look good,” Jaskier says as he walks up to the cage. It’s exactly the same sentence, exactly the same tone, that he had used upon seeing dozens of injuries, before grabbing bandages or a potion and setting to work patching Geralt up.

Don’t cry, Geralt tells himself as he lifts his chin and glares at Jaskier. Don’t you dare cry.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Jaskier says cheerily. “It’ll disincentivize you from picking up a sword again, which is excellent.”

“Is it?” Geralt snarls. Because Jaskier is ripping away Geralt’s life purpose, snatching up his ability to swing a sword and then acting like it’s a good thing, and Geralt still doesn’t know why he’s doing it.

“It is,” Jaskier says. “And don’t worry. When it’s all over, I’ll take care of you, dear heart. You won’t need to lift a finger.”

Geralt stares at him.

“You think we’ll just fall into happy domestic bliss when this is over? After you’ve fucking crippled me for life?”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, like there’s no other possible option. Like Geralt coming home with him is an immutable fact.

“What, you gonna chain me to your fucking bed?” Even as Geralt says it, fear creeps into his throat. He wouldn’t put it past this new Jaskier to do just that.

“No!” Jaskier gasps. “No, no, of course not. After this, after allof this, you’ll be free to go. Go do whatever you want. I just think…I think you’ll want to stay with me, once you understand. I hope you’ll want to stay with me.”

“Then you’re fucking mad.”

“Maybe I am,” Jaskier says. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, after all. You were just a mission. A…trial run, if you will. But I love you, Geralt, despite the monster running your life. And I hope that you’ll love me back, properly this time, once you’re free of it.”

There’s so much wrong with that, Geralt doesn’t even know where to start. But his heart takes the reins.

“Properly?” he asks. “Jaskier, I’ve loved you for years, I thought I could love you forever, I don’t understand why—”

“Pretty words,” Jaskier sighs, and there’s regret in his eyes. “But you don’t understand them yet. You don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean?” He hates how fucking small he sounds.

“You don’t feel love. It’s a scientific fact. A sad one for sure, but…oh dear heart, don’t look at me like that.”

The tears are burning on his cheeks again. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Jaskier. Jaskier thinks he doesn’t feel love. This whole time, through Geralt’s shaky declaration, through kisses traded under stars, through dancing together on the coast, through their fucking handfasting ceremony, Jaskier has thought that he doesn’t feel love.

He thinks he might be drowning.

“You’ll feel it soon enough,” Jaskier says. “And then everything will be okay.”

He places a jug on the ground near the bars. It’s small enough that Geralt could grab it and pull it through.

“Drink this,” he says. “Just drink this, and I’ll let you go, okay? And then you can love me, or not, you can stay with me, or not. But you’ll be free. And that’s all I care about, alright? That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”

***

Geralt stares at the jug for a very long time.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to drink it. He doesn’t know what the fuck Jaskier wants to do to him, but he knows it can’t be good.

But the numbness in his hands is getting worse and worse, and if he doesn’t get someplace warm soon, he knows he’s going to lose them.

And no matter what this does, it can’t be worse than that.

So he drinks.

***

It hurts.

***

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he wakes up. But the world is muffled again, muffled and painful and cold.

There’s someone leaning over him.

“Open your eyes, dear heart, that’s it, come on.”

Jaskier.

Geralt opens his eyes with a growl, fully intending to reach up and strangle him. But his arms aren’t listening to him—none of his body is listening to him, it’s all loose-limbed and weak like a newborn kitten—so he barely manages to lift them off the ground before they flop back down.

The world is wrong.

It’s fuzzy and dim, and when he tries to expand his pupils to take in more light it doesn’t work. What kind of drug had Jaskier given him?

Jaskier gasps. He looks delighted, like he’s watching a baby bird emerge from its shell.

“It worked,” he says. “Oh, sweet Melitele it worked, I knew that getting you weak from the cold would be enough.”

“What did you do?” Geralt says. Each word is a battle to get out from his throat.

“I should’ve brought a mirror,” Jaskier mutters. “But that’s alright, you’ll see soon enough. Oh, I have so much to show you, so much to teach you.”

He babbles excitedly to himself as he hoists Geralt to his feet. The world spins around him, but miraculously, Geralt manages to hold on to consciousness. Manages to match Jaskier step for shaky step as they walk out of the cage.

“We’ll go to the coast again and you’ll be able to appreciate how beautiful the ocean is, and we can redo our handfasting ceremony, now that you’ll actually mean the vows, and—”

Geralt throws an elbow against Jaskier’s ribs. It’s weak, but Jaskier still lets go of him. Probably out of surprise more than anything else. Geralt sways on his feet but stays standing.

“You…” Jaskier blinks. His eyes are turning red. “You still don’t love me?”

“I always fucking loved you,” Geralt says. Don’t cry. “Until you locked me in a cage.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t fucking understandJaskier, I don’t understand why someone who claims to love me would do something like that.”

“I see.” Jaskier takes a deep, shaky breath. “I see. Well. Go on, then.”

Geralt takes a slow step away. Another. Another.

Hands don’t close around his throat. A blow doesn’t come down on his head.

“I’ll wait for you,” Jaskier says behind him. “When you see. I’ll take you back. I swear.”

Another step.

Don’t cry until you’re safe.

Another.

Jaskier starts sobbing behind him, but Geralt doesn’t look back.

***

The first thing he does, when he gets to an inn with a surprisingly friendly innkeeper, is to look in a mirror.

You’ll see soon enough.

Brown eyes, human eyes, stare back at him.

#geraltwhumpweek #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #My writing

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olyollyoxenfree · 4 years ago

Text

10 preguntas y respuestas, Pt 2

Thanks for the 10 Questions tag-back, @averysiriuschromie! These were fun!

Your Questions

1. If you get to start over your teenage years, would you change anything, or are you happy with the way things were?

I wish I could've expressed certain things better and could've asked questions to certain people, but I'm satisfied enough with how things were.

2. Do you separate your real life from your Tumblr life?

Mostly, but I do vent on here sometimes.

3. Have you ever shown any of your fanfic/fanart to person you know in real life? How did they react to it?

I don't really show my sketches, which mostly consist of fanart, to people outside of my friend group. One friend spams me with variations of "nerd", and it's great lol

The few times I have shown someone outside my friend group were to kids I tutored; they really like my art and praise it (I nearly die on the spot when they do). There was one kid whose voice was the embodiment of an eyeroll, but that was more about memories stirred up from the content rather than the drawing itself (Miraculous Ladybug; she told me her sibling would not shut up about the show and it got on her nerves. Preteens are such drama queens, I swear :P )

4. State 2 unlikely facts about yourself.

I used to have a bowl cut because my mom would cut my hair. It was bad and I refused to cut my hair for a while because I was "traumatized" 🤣 (Shows how long that "trauma" stuck, because now I keep getting my hair cut short lol)

I was kind of a tomboy growing up and a little terror to the other children around my age in the neighborhood, who were mostly boys. I'm not exploring ditches as much anymore, but my inquisitive nature hasn't changed; I just don't act on impulse if I don't have a partner in crime.

5. Ketchup on your fries or ketchup on the side of your fries?

On the side. I'm not a [completely] greedy animal like my little brother. (But most of the time, I eat them as is or sprinkle them with pepper)

6. If you were trying to convince your non-anime watcher friend to start watching it, what anime would it be?

Depends on their interests. But most of my friends already watch anime to some degree, so I don't really have that issue lol (I only have to coax Sheena with boobs :3c)

7. Since you came from Florida, what do you think your Florida Man headline would be? :p

My brand of weird is normal for me, so I had to call on my friends for answers:

Me: Really stupid question, but I'll ask anyway: What would my Florida Man headline be?

Turtle:

"Florida Woman found with millions of dollars worth of shoplifted manga".

Alternatively, if it was an online article:

"Man found dead after groping Florida Woman: 10 Reasons You Don't Mess With Lolitas"

Rebekah:

I’m gonna go with my first thought even though it might be dumb: "Gay woman from Florida runs for president, is popular candidate".

Either that or "Florida woman built so many bookshelves she can’t get out of her room"

Sheena and Ro:

Sheena: This just in: local Floridian steals a human skull from the cemetery at 11 PM.

Sheena: Authorities still don't understand why this happened

Ro: The only piece of evidence was some art pen

Me: Sadly, that really would be how I get caught

Me: I tend to drop them ;-;

Sheena: I can see the police walk around with your art pen in a plastic bag and ask "Do you know who this belongs to?"

Me: Yup. And I'd just hold up my index finger to the police to hold up, then walk back inside for a minute to apologize to my brother for assuming he took it (because they always end up in his piles somehow)

Emily:

"LOCAL NERD DISAPPEARS IN CEMETERY ONLY TO RETURN AS CHAMPION OF THE FAE"

"[Redacted] GIRL ACCUSED OF SUMMONING THE DEAD"

"FLORIDA GIRL CHARGED WITH CAUSING HEART ATTACKS, CLAIMS ALL SHE DID WAS WALK INTO THE ROOM QUIETLY"

"FLORIDA GIRL TRIPS ON THE SIDEWALK, FALLS STRAIGHT INTO HELL AND RETURNS TO TELL THE TALE"

I have been scalped 🤣🤣🤣

8. Unsolved crimes or aliens?

Unsolved crimes!

9. Name one book you can read over and over again without feeling bored.

Hmm.. I guess any of the short story collections I have:

"The Cabinet of Curiosities: 36 Tales Brief & Sinister" by Stefan Bachmann, Katherine Catmull, Claire Legrand, Emma Trvayne: off the top of my head, my favorite story from this one is "The Cake Made Out of Teeth" by Claire L. (mentions of violence, and verbal abuse, kind of cannibalism and gore, vomiting).

"More Bones: Scary Stories From Around the World" collected and retold by Arielle North Olson and Howard Schwartz (I wrote my name in this book and it has the most wear of all the books in my small collection because I read it so many times over! I kinda want a hardcover copy if it's available): my favorites are "The Gruesome Test" (warning for cannibalism and mentions of death) and "The Haunted Violin" (warning for death).

"Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark" collected and retold by Alvin Schwartz, even though it contains some words that are antiquated and derogatory: a few short stories that never fail to send chills down my spine are "Me Tie Dough-ty Walker" (warning for gore and animal death), "Wonderful Sausage" (warning for death and cannibalism), and "Oh, Susannah!" (warning for death and gore).

...I just realized one-third of these have to do with some sort of cannibalism, which I'm not sure what that says about me, other than I'm probably hungry lol

10. An OTP you’re currently obsessed with!

I'm finding it difficult to pinpoint which ship I'm obsessed with right now because all the fanart I've seen is so cute ;-;

My 10 Questions:

(See "I tag")

I tag:

No one. While I am curious to peep into people's lives, that would require coming up with more questions, and that means work :P

#olyollyoxenspeaks #quizzes and tag games #tagged #oh hey it's me

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roadhaas · 5 years ago

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In the Valley of Four Colors, Pt.1

Well it took just over a week for me to discard my own premise haha.

In writing today’s short story I realized I was approaching the 4 page mark without a clear resolution in sight and probably didn’t want to be posting a whole novel to tumblr apropos of nothing. So while I said before that each story would be entirely stand alone, this one is probably gonna be entirely stand alone in several parts haha.

Please enjoy what I expect will be part 1 of 2 (3? … god forbid 4?) of this story and, as always, let me know if you have any thoughts, critiques, suggestions, etc.

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Ezekiel woke with a start.

In the cold darkness of his wooden cabin, he felt a chill through his whole body as sweat seemingly poured off him in waves.

The nightmares had been getting worse.

Instinctively he rubbed his wrists, feeling the kiss of cold steel where two manacles dug into his skin, a single loop hanging from each, clinking softly as his arms moved. He let out a labored sigh and moved to stand. He was already awake, he might as well get some work done before the sun came up. After putting on a long sleeved linen shirt to hide his wrists, Ezekiel started the day.

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He had already finished tending most of the cabbages by the time the sun peeked over the horizon. Its light illuminated Ezekiel’s meager livelihood, half an acre of cabbage fields and a solitary wooden cabin. Old worn tools leaned against the side of the house in an orderly line. The only other structure was a small stable that housed a young mule, currently still sleeping in the early morning hours. Parked beside the stable was a sturdy wagon, with small compartments in the back perfect for hauling cabbage into town.

It wasn’t much, but Ezekiel was grateful for it.

His peaceful contemplation was interrupted by something on the edge of his hearing. Even after all these years Ezekiel prided himself on being difficult to sneak up on. He waited for just the right moment, and sidestepped just as his daughter, Hannah, pounced with hands outstretched. As the smug grin of a youthful prank turned to sudden realization, and Hannah planted face first into freshly tilled soil, Ezekiel let out a hearty laugh and offered his rambunctious daughter a hand up.

Hannah was about 15, tall for her age, and had a strong build from her time sharing farm duties with her father. Her bright red hair danced like fire in the rising sunlight as she stood, brushed dirt out of her farm attire, and put on her best pouty face to protest how much humor her father was finding in the situation.

“Dad!” she said exasperated, “I’m going to get you one of these times!”

“Sure you are,” Ezekiel replied, “but in the meantime, how about you finish this lot, and I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Breakfast consisted of bread and cornmeal. It was the last of the bread, and eyeing their flour supply, Ezekiel figured that his early start justified a trip into town to fetch more.

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The path into town was long on foot, but not particularly difficult. Ezekiel and Hannah’s little homestead was placed out in the Valley of Four Colors, so called for it’s somewhat lackluster native flora, and the closest town was Ravensong at the far end of the valley. For hours the only scenery were the alternating patterns of orange, blue, green, and yellow growing in every direction. To pass the time, Ezekiel and Hannah joked about what they would do once they reached town.

“I think I’m going to march right down to the blacksmith and buy the nicest sword he’s got!” proclaimed Hannah.

“Oh,” retorted Ezekiel, “and what would you do with that?”

“Why I’d start my own militia! Who knows what dangerous criminals might come skulking in the night to steal our cabbages!”

Both chuckled at the thought of some masked debonair thief plucking whole heads of cabbage from the ground and secreting them away in the night.

“Well,” Ezekiel offered, “if you’re covering guard duty, then I guess I’ll be needing a new set of playing cards then. Too many games of solitaire and my old ones will be worn clean through!”

Again both chuckled at the notion, an image of aces and jacks like old ratty socks with holes around the edges ran through their minds.

For a while the pair were silent, ruminating on their fun game of imagination. After a moment however, a tension sprang into the air. Ezekiel recognized it immediately for what it was and braced himself for the oncoming question.

“Maybe,” Hannah began tentatively, “when we get to town we could find somewhere nice and talk about …”

“Hannah.” Ezekiel interrupted softly. His tone said it all, this was a conversation he considered already settled.

“Well you never tell me anything about mom!” Hannah protested, her words bordering on shouting. “I know almost nothing about her, or your past, or anything outside our life at the cabin.” Again her tone betrayed her deeper meaning. She knew as well as Ezekiel that this conversation was going nowhere. But still she persisted. “I just want something about her I can call my own.”

Ezekiel was very quiet for quite some time following Hannah’s request. After a while he stated, “She liked cats.”

It wasn’t at all satisfying, but Hannah knew that’s all she was getting today.

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Ravensong was a strange town. Formerly the epicenter of the once great kingdom of Malcha, countless ages had worn down it’s population and dispersed it’s glory. As a result, the town was practically full to the brim with grand old houses and elaborate manors but no one to live in them. The effect was not unlike a large man in a poorly tailored suit. The illusion of grandeur on a sustenance-starved frame.

But it was still a town, and one with a market at that.

Ezekiel and Hannah entered the market square just after 1pm. There was the usual amount of hustle and bustle, but in addition there was a large crowd gathered around the notice board near the center of the square.

Seeing his daughter’s curiosity, Ezekiel patted her shoulder and said, “go on and check it out then, I’ll grab the flour.” Hannah’s eyes lit up and she blurted out a rushed “thankyou” as she took off towards the announcement board.

Having acquired some flour from one of the merchants in the square, Ezekiel went to join his daughter at the notice board. This proved more difficult than he’d originally hoped, as whatever was drawing people’s attention also had them pressed up against it like wild animals pressed up on a fresh kill. Thankfully, Ezekiel’s large stature and considerable muscles made it somewhat easier to push towards the center of the crowd.

He saw the message posted before he found Hannah.

“WAR WITH LUMERIA,” it proclaimed in bold red letters.

“ALL MEN OF FIGHTING AGE ARE TO REPORT TO THE CAPITAL,” it continued.

Ezekiel’s heart sank. Instinctively his free hand went to the hidden manacle on his wrist, rubbing it slightly to dull the red hot ache that flared up in his bones. He spotted Hannah a moment later. Try as she might she couldn’t hide the concern on her face. She’d read the notice too, and she understood the implications.

The walk back home was much quieter.

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PART TWO EVENTUALLY!

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boogiewrites · 5 years ago

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Choking On Sapphires 80

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: 505

Summary: Genevieve comes home from the hospital. The journey to her recovery begins, but there are so many more things besides bruises and broken bones to worry about healing. Alfie tries to push back his own trauma from the event he's in denial over, and the whole house has to watch as things get worse before they get better. Song is 505 by The Arctic Monkeys.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Canon typical violence. References to assault and violence. Near death experiences. PTSD. Suffering/Physical Pain. Fluff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie had kept his word so far. Every time Genevieve would open her eyes to escape the mixture of horror and fantasy that kept circling in her subconscious in her sleep he would be there.

When the memories of what had happened would become less fuzzy, would creep into her dreams, he’d be there holding her hands as she fought out of the drug-induced slumber she felt held prisoner in to keep her from hurting herself. She’d make unsettling noises during her fits. Feet kicking and arms twitching and flailing as her face pained and winced, eyes rolling under their purple lids in the misshaped sockets for the violence she was reliving.

Sometimes the dreams would be pleasant though. An escape to another timeline where none of this had happened. She’d make hums of approval in her sleep, nuzzling into her pillow and it would make Alfie sigh with relief. She deserved some respite from this reality he thought, and he was happy she could find it. If she stirred his hand would always find hers. Even on the rare occasion, he’d be able to fall asleep, back aching and twisted in the chair by her bed he’d keep hold of her as if someone could steal her away without him knowing again. When she would wake from her pleasant dreams he’d be there with his ruffled hair and haggard face, a soft glance she’d meet as he’d stroke her swollen hands. She liked to touch his face in these tender moments they shared. The back of her hand, the knuckle of a finger lightly against his scaled features and wiry beard. She’d give him an affectionate smile, one he’d seen in the mornings before her eyes would close again, him placing her hand back onto the bed as it started to slowly lower when she fell back into her peaceful distraction.

Within a few days with no seizures or signs of internal bleeding, she’s given the go-ahead to be released. Instructions for her care are given to each Alfie, Claire, and Aggie as they were life-threateningly important. She was out of immediate harm from some things, but plenty could still go wrong. Alfie schedules home visits with the doctor ahead of time and even has Ollie hear the orders for her medicine. He was taking no chances at anyone that would be near her not knowing what the fuck they were doing.

With the state of her still being so very fragile, still multicolored from injuries and barely breathing without pain, although the morphine did help that part, she couldn’t exactly walk out on crutches for her twisted ankle. Alfie commandingly insists on being the one to handle her. She did admittedly respond best to him. He has her taken out of the hospital by a back entrance via wheelchair. He wanted all the details of her situation to remain a secret for now. No one that didn’t already know, needed to know how bad it was. He didn’t want word getting out to the community they were a part of, her students, here children at the home. He wanted to keep that ideal version of her alive and well, as he still had faith she would return to it one day.

Despite the fog she found herself in, she tried to keep her head up as they drove out of town. There was a distinct smell to the air and as they were on their way out of the city, the swirls of smoke could be seen in the rear view mirror.

He sees her focusing, her nose twitching like a rabbit. She raises her hand, a single finger pointed behind them with a subtle tilt of her head in question as she could still not speak.

“The smoke?” He asks.

She moves the pointed finger up and down as an indicator for her answer of yes so she didn’t have to nod.

“That was me, love.” He says with a noisy exhale, turning her head from it gently. “I had everything he owned burnt down and everyone in it killed.” He has no remorse and a fling of hunger for the day left in his eyes. “Seems me 'n Tommy’s men burnt down near half of fuckin London. For you, love. No one is gonna mess wif a Solomons. ‘Bout time us Jews started remindin’ these goyim what we’re capable of. Didn’t survive this fuckin long through slavery and oppression to lay down on the cusp of birth of fuckin' Nazi’s.” He shakes his head, brow low and lips tight as his mind only thinks of more things to worry about. He closes his eyes before turning back to her and kisses her forehead. “I’d set the whole fuckin' world ablaze for ya love. If I had to have ya live on a fuckin' island somewhere to escape the flames yeah? Nuffin else but you and ours matters now, eh? Now you lay your head down darlin' and have ya little lie down and I’ll keep ya steady 'til we get ya home, yeah?” He offers, having her place her head on his shoulder, his large hand cradling it and her hip like a baby in his arms. He rests his cheek against her hair and breaths her in, keeping his lips to her when he’d inevitably get emotional with her in his arms all small and helpless now. With the lack of sleep and the strain of the events of the past few days, he’d been a mess. He’d been moody, even more so than usual. He'd neglected himself entirely. Not eating or sleeping of his own doing, always thinking, always worrying. It was starting to take more of a toll on him than he would admit to himself. But he was blinded by his compulsion to protect his love. Following the advice to be delicate with her the best he could.

Her home wasn’t exactly wheelchair friendly, but Alfie certainly didn’t mind carrying her back into the house, the chair brought in behind them as he keeps his eyes on her in his arms, anyone else not existing as far as he was concerned when she was within his eyesight. He has pillows brought and piled high on the bed for her, a little bell for her convince on her nightstand. He leaves his cane by the bed to aid her when she would inevitably need to use the loo.

The time spent with her unconscious he’d spent wisely with Ollie. Preparations of his own taken for the business to keep moving along without him. Despite the always nervous young man’s suggestion to keep his affairs as usual to keep up appearances, he was met only with a smack to the face as he was reminded he needed to understand that Alfie's word was rule and the rules would be changing now. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his business, the tracks, the money, he still very much did. But for now, there would be a noticeable lack of Solomons around. He’d had his close call and it wasn’t going to take another one to make him see where he was needed. Ollie was a big boy and had been his second for years now. Ollie could handle it. At least until the threat against Gen’s well being was passed. But as the doctor had said, it was one day at a time.

The first step was to get her comfortable again. The bath proves difficult for both of them. He wanted her to feel clean, to smell like she had before the hospital, flowers instead of sterile. Neither of them spoke, Genevieve still having much difficulty doing so, and Alfie not wanting to say the wrong thing. His usual approach with humor to serious situations with her wouldn’t work his time and he didn't want to confuse the poor dear. As it turned out it was very easy to do in her currently still unstable state. She only makes sounds of pain when he touched her and his hurt shows on his face. She doesn’t meet his expression as she feels varied, swinging emotions as she’s faced with her naked body for the first time since being rescued. The bath water helps distort it, but she can tell even with her blurry eyes that there was plenty of distortion without the filter of waves from the water. Her swollen joints and skin that held reminders of the events that were still hazy to her, they were both left with undeniable proof that even if they didn’t know exactly what happened, that it had clearly been worse than either knew. For the first time in their relationship, they sat alone together in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. The things unsaid about the events that had unfolded sat like an invisible barrier between them, neither wanting to share how it truly made them feel. For the first time there was a disconnect between them, even Gen in her hazy mindset knew he looked at her differently, just as she was looking at herself. With a confusing mixture of pity and guilt.

Alfie does his best as the gentle touch she needs doesn’t come first nature to him. He brings her one of her favorite gowns, all silk and lace and slight enough to be able to keep watch on her injuries. But she makes a small sad noise and pushes it away when he brings it to her. She would’ve said she didn’t want something so lovely on this body, that it would only remind her of how she was before, but she couldn’t, and Alfie's expression remained puzzled. She didn’t need to try to be who she was before just yet. That version of herself was so far away, possibly even unobtainable now she felt. She wanted simple, to keep her mind calm. She needed comfort to offset the pain. She tugs on his shirt, damp from carrying her to bed. His intuition has never been such a highly valued skill to him as he retrieves one of his shirts from a chest of drawers and puts it on her gingerly, limb by limb. It smelled like him, it felt like him rubbing against her skin and let her chest bindings breathe. This is what she needed, not her silk and frills. Alfie sees a calmness take over her face as she strokes the fabric over her thighs. His darling needed him, needed comfort now. He had to attempt to let go of trying to do things his way. But that was never his strong suit.

After getting her set up in bed, she falls asleep quickly from the full day she’d already had in comparison to barely moving in the hospital. She sleeps soundly, seemingly heavy as she lies in a nest of pillows like a little bird.

He’s called from the bed, a phone call from Ollie already. He’s hesitant to leave her, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He’d had the phone removed from her room to make sure her rest wasn’t interrupted by it. He wanted her in quiet and calm with nothing that could disrupt or startle her. So he agrees to leave for only a moment.

When he returns, trying to shed his annoyance for Ollie’s tendency to panic and over question his own decisions he finds the bed empty and panics. Flashes of the night she disappeared come to him, his heart in his throat as all the hairs stand up on his skin, an anxiety attack on the verge of blooming like a boy after the war. He had his own issues from the abduction to deal with it seemed.

He hears a pained sound, something like a hurt animal, and as he approaches swiftly he finds just that. His little kitten on the floor and struggling to breathe, the cane by her side. Her arms shook and failed time and time again to hold herself up as she cried with croaked grunts from her bruised neck.

He calls her name over and over, she keeps her eyes screwed shut, teeth clenched in pain as her hands cling desperately to his forearms. “Gen you stubborn thing.” he sighs. He shushes and coos, pulling her up against his chest and setting her back on the bed. His big warm hands on her face and hair, wiping away tears and he instructs her to slow her breathing. “That’s it love breathe slow. It’s only pain. Don’t let it make you afraid.” He says in a kind tone, a hand to her wrist to feel her pulse.

At last she opens her eyes, her breathing wheezy and her posture slumped from the pain in her ribs. She opens her mouth and tries to speak and he shakes his head, putting his thumbs over the rough, broken skin.

“Don’t try to talk.” He instructs sternly. “Catch your breath and I’ll fetch the paper after. No rush now is there?”

She gulps and continues moaning with every exhale, feeling overwhelmed. Her hand reaches out and points to the bathroom as her head spins.

“You were trying to get in there, eh?” He asks, brushing her hair out of her face and she wiggles her finger to indicate he was correct. “I had a call and left for just a moment, thought you were deep asleep. You know better than to try to walk yourself in your condition.” He voice grows weaker with his pushing back of his frustrations, feeling another wave of guilt wash over him. “You wait for me to help you, yeah? Don’t go tryin’ so hard alone. We’re not there yet.” He plants a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as her hands move to his forearms. He feels her breathing steady, her hands stop trembling and her rest her weight against him. “That’s a good girl, yeah?” He says with an affectionate and very light stroke to her back. “Ya needed to take a wee love?” He says with a more playful tone, holding her chin up as she answers with her eyes looking to the bathroom doorway. “Well, we can manage that now can’t we? Right. Let’s get ya up. Ya ready for your Alfie to carry you?”

She mouths yes and raises her arms slowly to around his neck. The soft nuzzle into him as he grunts and lifts her, babying her the entire way makes her feel better in the moment. He was there. He was staying through every ugly bit of it and she didn’t need to worry about him right now, only herself. Whoever that was presently. She felt like a different person or no one at all at times. The mix of head injury and medicine leaving her confused, disoriented, bewildered and to say the least, spacey most of the time.

After settling her back into bed, he can tell she’s hurting badly, little whines with every exhale as he settles in next to her. He gives her another small dose of medicine to take the edge off. He couldn’t stand seeing her in pain and knew inside her was nothing but. It was only the first day of her being home, of the official start to the road of recovery and he knew it was going to be harder than he had initially imagined. But what he hadn’t expected was for it to be far worse before it got better.

Sleeps takes her quickly. She’s sucked into a dark undertow and deep into a very vivid dream. She comes to with a blink, as if she had been plunked into this new place. The first thing she notices is that there is no pain. A warm sun hits her skin which after inspection looked to be blemish free, her hands only wearing a wedding band and diamond ring and no bandages.

“Papa!” She hears, her head quickly turning towards the sound and having no dizziness from it. She’s surrounded by large green hedges that are dotted with flowers. They rise too tall for her to see over, but she can clearly hear the laughter of children beyond them. With fingertips dragging on the surface of the thick bushes as she walks, she follows the path before her and hears the laughter, sprinkled with the sound of birds throughout it. “Mama!” She hears called out, and she somehow knows the happy sound is for her. Her bare feet move quickly over the well-kept paths, a sense of happiness, of joy as she moves to a jog, her dress soft against her legs as she moves.

She emerges from the maze to a wide open garden of grass, trees and ivy wrapped lattice, bird baths and statues along the space that was nestled in the valley of a yellow-green rolling hillside the tall grass swaying in the distance. A young child runs in front of her, catching her attention.

She quickly hitched up her dress and chases after, running through the garden. One child disappears behind a corner, to reveal two as she rounds it as well.

“Mum!” She hears an older girl laugh, her long dark hair swishing and a crown of flowers atop of her head as she moves with the small child. Another corner, another child, all seeming to be different. All in their own little clothes, varying heights, hair colors, and styles. She chases around the hedge maze until there are five of them, then they move as a small herd, the older ones helping the younger as they fall and squeal.

She calls out for them in her pursuit. But their faces stay hidden from her. Even she stumbles, the soft, dark auburn hair of a little boy in shorts moving just out of reach. She comes back into the clearing, a white house now at the other end of the stretch of grass and an easily recognizable man standing with his little glasses on his nose, cane in hand, and a lovely booming voice calling out for her.

———

“Genevieve!” Alfie shouts as Aggie rushes out of the room and to the phone. “Wake up love, come now, stay with me.” His voice breaks as he holds her in his arms, his panic pulsing through his exhausted body.

He’d noticed her fall so still, not resting himself as her little tumble earlier had shaken him up. As the night went on she grew far too still for his liking, he could no longer see her chest moving up and down and that had sent the shouting and panic throughout the house that they sat in now. Her pulse was there but weak, his eyes wild and voice so angry as Aggie told him the doctor was on his way.

————

“Chanah!” Alfie's warm voice calls out to her. A sense of rightness, of contentment, follow as the small herd of children also hear him and let out their various sounds of approval as they head towards him ahead of her.

“Ari!” She calls out with a beaming smile.

“Papa!” One of the boys responds as he stumbles on his still young legs towards the inviting outstretched embrace of Alfie.

————-

“Ari.” Genevieve’s voice is a whisper, if he hadn’t been holding her head to his he would’ve missed it. He chokes back tears as he kisses her face and holds her hand, once again not thinking about having to let her go once the doctor arrived.

———-

The five children like broken stair steps range from an older girl, probably a teenager to a young boy and girl who looked to be barely even 6. The girls had bows and flowers in their hair and the boys had grass stains on their pants and messy hair. They looked a portrait of perfect to her. They kept moving just out of reach of Genevieve’s hands, the dreamscape making the run to meet Alfie go on for so long, and her frustration grew. She began feeling desperate to touch them, to feel them and know they were real, to see their faces and tell them sweet, loving things. But they kept out of her reach and she kept stumbling towards them with now filthy feet from the ground.

With the edge of the back porch of the house reached by the kids, Alfie ruffles their hair and looks a picture of a proud father. A little girl in his strong arms, her face buried in his neck as he laughs at another small boy wrapping his little arms around his leg. For a moment the thought crosses Genevieve’s mind that this might be heaven.

With the thought the oldest turns, her face coming into view now. She was strikingly beautiful. With dark hair dotted with flowers, the same Genevieve had been chasing earlier, and similarly, as the girl just a touch shorter than her who stood next to her, face still toward her father.

“Mum.” The girl says with a sweet voice that came from lips that looked like Alfies, Gen’s large eyes looked back in their mirrored image over the same rounded nose with Alfie's stormy blue pupils looking back at her.

“Yes, cheri?” Genevieve responds with a fluttering of her heart in her chest as the girl steps closer.

“I’m sorry.” She says with a kind smile.

Genevieve is confused, their hands reaching out, just a hair's width from touching.

“Chanah!” She hears Alfie shout, her head whipping fast to him as he motions her to come towards him, children still swarming him.

She gives a nod and a smile and moves to turn back to the girl but as fast as she’d turned her head, she was gone. She could almost feel the heat from her hand when it had almost slid into her own. She looks around, startled and upset, wondering where the lovely girl had gone.

“She’ll be alright, love.” Alfie says, motioning her towards him, he's missing his usual assortment of jewelry. Only a gold wedding band on his aged hand with it's faded crown tattoos. The little girl in his arms puts her own around his neck and squeezes. “Not time to meet her yet.” He says with an almost cheerful disposition. “You’ve still got to meet the others.” He says, turning and bouncing the girl, the boy now sitting on Alfie's foot as he walks with a waddle. The older girl that was left now walks with the older boy under her arm, rubbing his back affectionately as they move toward the house. Gen turns to look around the garden, still worried about the girl who disappeared. “Chanah!” Alfie calls out and she ignores it, feeling her heart race and her breath shorten. “Chanah love, come back to me!” His voice sounds different now. More demanding. “Chanah!” He shouts again with anger and she turns to look his way, a sharp dizziness taking her over as it feels like an omniscient hand yanks her from where she stands.

Her eyes open back into the reality Alfie had been dealing with while she was having her most curious experience.

“Chanah! Fuckin ‘ell girl ya gonna kill me wif 'is.” He says bending over her body on the bed.

She tries to say his name and only gets out “Ah-“ as is standard.

“Shhhh catch your breathing up love. Ya medicine put ya a bit too far under. Had to pull ya out of it dinnit I?” He holds her like a child as her eyes with their mixed pupil sizes loll around in her head.

“W-wuh-“ She grunts out.

“Hand us the paper there Agatha.” Alfie instructs, holding the ice water they’d been applying to her skin for past few minutes. “Ya need somethin'?” He asks, putting the pen gently into her hand.

“Ch-chi-“ She stutters and rasps, writing ‘children?’ On the pad.

“What are you on about love? There’s no children.” He doesn’t hide the confusion on his face as he turns to the doctor for answers.

“She’s most likely having trouble distinguishing real life with dreams as she comes out of it. Fairly common occurrence.” He says with a flat delivery.

“There’s no children, love.” Alfie whispers softly.

She whimpers, writing ‘where are the children?’ again as Aggie starts to cry at the state her lovely Genevieve was in. She thought of her as her own and seeing her suffer in any way, especially in a way she could not help hurt her deep down into her soul.

“There’s no children, love.” Alfie says with a more stern delivery, as she sweats and groans in his arms, wanting to struggle to get back to that lovely place but she’s so weak. Each toss of her head sends nausea flooding over her, her eyes showing white as the room spins. Nausea gives over to actual vomiting as Alfie leans her over the side of the bed where a bucket sat just for such an occasion. He shoots another questioning glance to the doctor.

“Also very common.” He nods. “Could be her stomach rejecting the excess medication, could be from the head injuries. Severe dizziness is common in cases such as these. It will pass.” His bedside manner wasn’t the best, but his reputation was and Alfie could easily forgo a sugar-coated delivery for fast facts.

“Let it out, love.” He says softly, rubbing her back and keeping her hair out of her face. This was worse than any other time he’d seen her sick whether from drink or violence. The sounds that escaped her were gruesome and churned his stomach just as much as hers was.

But the sounds faded, she passes out again, limp in his arms like a classical painting of tragic lovers. He holds her close, keeping her warm as she chills, speaking to her as she groans and shifts in her unrest. All this was reminding him of the war. The constant feeling the other shoe was going to drop at any moment, the tension and paranoia. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely allow himself to blink, lest she take a turn for the worst. Deep sleep and shallow breathing were part of the new medication she was on. He could’ve been told that one hundred more times but it didn’t make the terror that shot through his core when he thought her dead any easier to handle. Or the frustration he felt at the strong rise and fall of his own emotions he was not accustomed to.

She sleeps, but it is not peaceful. Her mind trying to rewire and heal, skipping and making missed connections, leaving her in a disturbing mix of memory and dream inside her own head. He stays up, swearing to himself she would not fail because of him. He kept watch like an ancient guardian relic over her. A slumped and bent, red-eyed and scaled skin gargoyle over her in the dark of the room, the fire casting them in uncanny low light. The sight of them was frightening, and only Agatha and Claire dare enter the room.

The two women, shunned by Alfie in his slow descent into madness it seemed watched on helplessly. Claire was by far the most optimistic of them all. She recalled Gen’s brother after the war and knew things like this happened. Setbacks were all part of the road to progress.

“Although you might think it insensitive of me to say so, I can’t help but look upon this scene as she would if she were us right now.”

“What do you mean dear?” Aggie says with a wrinkled nose.

“The lighting, the love, the tragedy. She’d be a big enthusiast of this would she not? The drama and aesthetic. I only wish I could capture it for her.”

“Why on earth would you want to recall this hellish night?” Aggie’s confusion clear in her voice.

“Because I know she’d think it would make a lovely painting,” Claire replies with a sigh, an almost happy look on her face as she watched on from the darkened hallway. “Gen would find the beauty in this madness. Since she can’t...we must.” She says confidently with a nod.

“That’s a beautiful point dear. We would all be best to keep it in mind the coming days. I fear this is not the end of the ugliness of recovery.”

“It is not. And we will. We will tell her of this when she’s better. And she will be. But healing from this will be unpleasant. She’s strong but not inhuman. We know what those men did to her, and when she remembers I don’t know how she’ll respond. We could be looking at another wave of rebellion again like last time.” Claire’s lips pursed.

Agatha sighs and slumps. “I hope for everyone’s sake you’re wrong.”

“Oui. So do I.”

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