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slothquisitor · 2 years ago

Text

Sever

In which Gortash dies, and Karlach rages, and everyone wonders if revenge is really the right answer. Also, shout out to my fellow folks with complicated family situations. This one is for you. Astarion x Liv, 5.5k, mostly angst.

Also on AO3.

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Liv stares down at Gortash’s still-warm body and wonders when she became so comfortable with death. The first time she had ever seen a dead body had been when her sister had died, but she hadn’t been the one personally responsible for the death of another until she had been on that mindflayer ship. She knew, of course, that all of her magic, her studies, could be used in this way. But it is one thing to summon a flame and hold that warmth in her hand and another entirely to see the burnt corpse in the aftermath.

She remembers those first few weeks in the wilderness, killing gnolls and goblins and cultists, the way she would sneak away to retch after every fight. No one had noticed, or if they had, they simply hadn’t mentioned it. Until one day, with the adrenaline rush from the fight fading, she found she didn’t need to step away. And now, as she stands over Gortash’s body, she realizes she feels…not sadness, not exactly. Instead, it’s more a sense of waste.

There’s no sense of victory when she pries the netherstone gauntlet from his hand. Though the Emperor’s voice is full of it inside her head. But this isn’t like when they rescued the Gondians and Duke Ravenguard. This isn’t like killing Ketheric Thorm and watching the shadow curse recede. It’s justice, of a sort, but it doesn’t feel victorious.

Karlach is beside her, having dealt the final blow with her halberd. Gortash’s blood still stains the blade, and Liv can feel the heat radiating from her friend. It always takes a few moments for Karlach’s rage to fade after battle, but this is different. She’s somehow heating up. She’s about to ask how she’s doing when Karlach speaks.

“So Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us.” She’s staring down at his unmoving body, orange eyes filled with rage and grief and ten lost years. “I feel like there should be a sunset for me to ride off into. Or an orchestral swell…or something .”

Karlach finally meets her gaze. “But there’s nothing is there? I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and my prize is that I get to crawl into a corner and die. Am I fucking missing something? I can’t do it anymore. Ten years, man. It’s enough. It’s enough. He’s dead and he’s no fucking sorrier now than he was before. What was the point? I’m still dying. I’m dying. I’m going to die.”

Liv feels just as helpless, just as out of her depth as when Astarion killed Cazador. Gortash deserved to die, but Karlach is right: killing him didn’t make him sorry for what he did. “We’re going to figure out your engine problem, Karlach. There’s got to be a way.”

“Got a miracle in your back pocket you forgot to tell me about?” Karlach shakes her head. “I’m going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any moment. And what then? Off to the city of Judgement to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me? Is that fucking all?”

Liv flinches back as Karlach flares, heat radiating dangerously. “And you, you’ll just keep going, won’t you? Watching the stars. Reading your books. Drawing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it. All of it.” The fire burns white hot and bright. “That’s my reward for everything I suffered. That’s why I survived years of torment. The fighting, the clawing, the loneliness, the fucking loneliness …All of it so I could rot. Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil!”

And just as quick as it came, the flames diminish, banked by grief. Karlach begins to cry, face covered by her hands. “It isn’t fair. I don’t want it like this.”

Liv doesn’t want it like this either. Karlach’s anger feels different, somehow more distant than anyone else’s. There aren’t words to reach it. While she rages, screams, and yells about the unfairness, Liv has nothing to offer. Nothing that might close that distance, that might save her this. Gortash is dead, and it doesn’t matter because Karlach is still dying. Her heart still cannot survive in this plane, and it doesn’t matter what foes they defeat or if the city is saved, Karlach still won’t be. Liv fights the tears that threaten to fall. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all. I hate this for you.”

Karlach wipes at her eyes. “I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to stay. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Liv steps closer, showing her that she’s not afraid, and that she’s not alone. “I don’t know. I want you to stay too.” She extends her arms and isn’t surprised when Karlach pulls her in for a bone-crushing hug.

When she pulls away, Karlach seems steadier. “I want to get out of here. I’ve always hated this place. Stupid fucking gigantic bridge or whatever. I think I need to go be alone for a while. Scream at the sky.”

Liv understands. “I’ll find you later.”

Karlach puts a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for listening. For existing. Love you.”

Love. Dropped so casually, but filled with so much heart. Despite all she’s been through, Karlach is unfailingly, unwaveringly kind. Quick to offer encouragement and praise, quicker still to offer comfort. It would be so easy for her to walk through the world with her fists raised, ready to fight off everything and everyone, to keep them all at a distance. But instead, her hands are out and open, a hug, an arm draped over shoulders, fist bumps, high fives. Always welcoming, always inviting. Liv doesn’t always know what to do in the face of all that, and now she doesn’t know how to respond. She wishes those words were as easy to say as they are to feel.

Liv hates that this is the one problem she can’t solve right now. Liv knows a lot about magic, history, languages. She has received the best education that her parents’ money could buy. But this is beyond her, for now. She’s sure that with enough time and study and perhaps help from Dammon, she can find a solution, but that is time they do not have. Not with so many other problems that seem hellsbent on presenting themselves at the most inconvenient moments.

Karlach leaves, and Liv glances around the massive office, eyes catching on their other companions. Shadowheart and Jaheira are busy tending to Lae’zel and Astarion who both got caught in those damn incineration casters that seem to be affixed to every wall in this place. She’s sure that Wyll and Gale will join them shortly, as they’d stayed below, picking off the last of the Flaming Fist who had tried to follow them up the tower. But everyone is fine. Everyone is okay.

There will be time later for her to consider how close this was. For her to fall apart while she remembers watching Lae’zel and Astarion get caught in flames. But she still has work to do right now, so she takes a deep breath and begins working her way through Gortash’s office. She rifles through cabinets, bookshelves, and desks, looking for anything that might be helpful, might give them clues about where the brain is. She keeps an eye out for anything that might implicate the people who were in league with Gortash, who funneled him support or money or simply turned the other way. Gortash seems the type to keep a list.

Once Lae’zel and Astarion are healed, everyone else joins in too, piling everything potentially useful on the table in the center of the room. Liv pores over it all, journal entries, memoir notes, invasion plans. Painting a picture of a man with more ambition than sense.

“There’s something over here,” Astarion says, and she glances his way. “Ah, how utterly predictable.” He pulls a picture down off the wall, revealing a safe.

Liv abandons the books she was looking through, wandering over to this corner of the room. “Can you open it?”

Astarion looks offended. “My dear, do you forget who you’re talking to?”

“Gods save me from certain vampires and their egos. This is the guy who rigged this whole place with concussion grenades and flamethrowers, and you’re telling me it’s a simple lock and key?”

Astarion grins mischievously. “Speaking of ego, it’s not even trapped.”

That is surprising. Astarion is already picking the lock, deft fingers working quickly. Despite his perpetual complaints for a skeleton key, Astarion seems to enjoy this. After a few moments, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Astarion steps back proudly, waving a hand in the invitation for her to go through the contents. She steps up to the safe, already reaching for the small black book that lies within.

“Is Karlach alright?” Astarion asks, words quiet though there is little chance of them being overheard here.

Liv turns away from the contents of the safe; they will keep. “Were you?”

His eyes widen at the question, but he recovers quickly. “Gods, is there no fairness in this world? Karlach may have killed him, but it doesn’t change anything does it?” His words are soft, sad even.

Liv shakes her head. “It doesn’t.” She turns back to the safe and the contents within. She picks up the book, and begins thumbing through its pages. It becomes obvious very quickly that these are Gortash’s notes, a ledger of sorts on every person who pledged him money and support. The names are written out in an inelegant hand, the black ink stains are dark and grotesque.

Her parents' names are on page five.

There is no ghastly surprise at the revelation, only resignation. Of course, their names are here. Of course, this is the way it is. She is so tired, so very tired. No matter how hard she tries, she isn’t sure if she’ll ever be able to escape her family. Because she can’t seem to hate them, can’t seem to forget them. So at every turn, with every revelation, she just ends up betrayed, somehow still young and stupid and naive even when she knows she shouldn’t be.

She tucks the book away in her bag; it feels heavier than it should.

***

Gortash is dead, and Liv is too quiet. In fact, all of their companions are. It’s almost as if they didn’t have a big victory today. They’ve got two out of the three netherstones! A bad guy is dead…as are many of the Flaming Fist following him, which, good riddance, honestly. Astarion isn’t sure why everyone is being so wet around the ears about this one.

Perhaps it is because killing Gortash has not secured Halsin’s release, and instead has revealed yet another hoop to jump through in order to rescue him. They truly have no reason to take Orin at her word, and yet, if Halsin was dead, Astarion is sure that they’d know it. The bloody notes Orin has delivered to their rooms at the Elfsong haven’t smelled even faintly of Halsin. Small comfort, that.

The somber mood might also be attributed to Karlach. He’s never seen her like this. Even in the shadow lands, she’d remained steadfastly cheerful. He remembers detesting it, her happiness, her freedom with touch after her second upgrade. Still, he wonders if he knows a little of what she’s going through.

So, despite his better judgment, he wanders over to Karlach. She’s sitting on one of the couches, alone but not quite alone. Across the sunken area of their rooms, she half-watches Wyll and Gale play a game of lanceboard while she nurses a mug of something that smells sweet and strong.

“It doesn’t feel like you’d expect it would, does it?” he says by way of greeting.

Karlach looks up from her drink, her eyes far away, lips twisted into a frown. “What doesn’t?”

He sits down beside her, on the extreme edge of the couch. “Revenge.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She sighs. “What did it feel like for you?”

He swallows and looks away. He’s done a good job of not thinking about this, grateful for the many things that need doing that keep them all so busy. He doesn’t know if he really wants to name it, to risk giving these feelings real power outside of his own head. But somehow, he wants Karlach to know she’s not alone more. “Grief.”

Karlach doesn’t speak for a long time, hands twisting around her mug. She is almost never truly still. Finally, she wipes at one of her eyes, in a move that could be mistaken for simply scratching her nose. “Yeah. That fits.”

Astarion still isn’t quite sure what it was he was grieving anyway, but for Karlach it’s clear: her freedom, ten years of her life stolen from her. Karlach is better than most and she’s spending her last days trying to save a world that never cared about her. In his less generous moments, and of those there are many, he tells himself that ten years is nothing . Certainly not compared to two hundred. But he’s free now, and he has an eternity of immortality stretching out before him, assuming they survive everything else. And Karlach will die because someone stole her heart and now she’s bound to the hells. It’s really fucking unfair.

“I wish I could tell you that dying wasn’t so bad, but my experience has been quite…specific….I’m sorry.” He is surprised by how much he means it. How much he wishes he could change her fate. Is this what friendship is? It hurts more than he expected it would.

Karlach leans forward elbows braced on her knees, shoulders caved in. “Yeah. This just kind of sucks, you know?”

“It does…” He’s not sure what else to offer; he’s not sure that there is any comfort he can give. “I was trying to think of something more profound to say, but no. It just ‘kind of sucks’.” He is not Liv, and he does not have promises to give Karlach. However he does believe that if there is a way, Liv will find it. “You deserve better.”

Karlach’s eyes look up to the ceiling as she nods. “Yeah, so many do.” She turns to look at him, orange eyes filled with gratitude. “But…thank you.”

But he hasn’t given her anything. His confusion must show on his face because she smiles, and carefully, slowly reaches a hand up, and lets it hover over his shoulder. She hesitates, waiting to see if he’ll move away. He doesn’t, and heat radiates from the contact, warm and comforting and inviting.

“I appreciate the check-in, Astarion.” The words are infused with her usual energy, even if it does feel a bit half-hearted.

Astarion stands then, her hand falling lightly away. Something about this all feels too close, too kind of him. He straightens, determined to infuse this situation with more of his usual prickly humor. “We need you in your best fighting shape. With Halsin gone, who else is large enough to shield me?”

Karlach doesn’t laugh, but instead gives him a knowing look before taking a big drink. “Sure thing, soldier.”

He tells himself he’s not retreating by leaving that sunken area, that he’s looking for Liv, but it’s really just chance that he runs into her. She’s heading for the doors that lead downstairs with Gortash’s ledger in hand.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

Liv looks nervous, unsure. “Uh…just downstairs.”

“For?”

She holds up the book she’d taken from Gortash’s safe earlier in the day as she opens the double doors. “Percy is coming to get this.”

It’s clear that she doesn’t want to have this conversation, but that’s exactly why they probably should. He follows her without hesitation. “And you’re just going to give it to him?”��

She pauses in the hallway, and he watches her take a deep breath before she turns. “Yes.”

Astarion stares at her in disbelief. “You have leverage over half of the noble houses in this city in that little book, and you’re just going to give it away? Are you serious?”

She nods.

Is she mad? They need allies. She could manipulate anyone she wanted into helping their cause, into doing so many things. He’s sure that there’s quite a large number of people in that book whose dealings with Gortash they would do anything to keep quiet. And she’d just hand it off to her brother?

“Think about the possibilities here, I beg of you. You don’t have to do anything with this information tonight or even before we figure out how to take on the elder brain, but don’t just give it away.”

Liv shakes her head. “I’m not giving it away.”

“You are though. You are aware that you don’t owe him a damn thing, right?”

“He gave us information. He helped us.”

Astarion shakes his head. “No, he helped himself. He knows you. Knows that you’d do exactly this because he asked for your help . He lost nothing telling us information we’d likely find out another way anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s what I thought he was.”

Damn her trust, her belief in people who don’t deserve it. Not everyone is going to rise up to her expectations. Not everyone has a better version of themselves. Not everyone wants to be better.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you give people the chance to take advantage of you because you genuinely believe that they won’t or because you don’t think you deserve better.” He wants to take the words back the moment they’ve left his lips. Not because they’re incorrect, but because he’s not sure he’s allowed to say any of it and still keep her at his side.

Her brows furrow and she shakes her head. “That’s not…that’s not what this is.”

He almost wants to laugh. That’s exactly what this is. Liv is his favorite person in all the realm, and that realization alone has brought with it its own sort of terrifying exhilaration. Because he knows her. Knows her better than himself. He knows that she’s quick to smile and defaults to politeness when she’s uncomfortable. He knows that she sees the bad in the world, but desperately wants to believe the best of it anyway. And he knows her instinct to offer something to everyone she meets is borne from a bone-deep fear that if she doesn’t, she has no value.

Whether she intends it or not, offering her brother that ledger from Gortash’s office isn’t about keeping her word; it’s about giving away the only thing that she perceives her brother as wanting, and then seeing what happens next. It’s an invitation for hurt, but at least it is a pain she can expect. Gods, he can’t even say he blames her. He’d done the same thing after meeting that blood merchant in Moonrise. Still, he’s not sure how to tell her any of this. How to show her these pieces of herself without it feeling like meanness, the words sharp enough to cut.

It has been a long time since he has questioned her, pushed back against a decision. It has never been this personal, and he doesn’t know how it will go. But he loves her and he’s tired of watching her take herself apart piecemeal for people who don’t deserve it.

He reaches for her hand with gentle fingers he hopes cushions the blow of what he’s about to say. “You keep giving people the opportunity to wound you and calling it kindness. You owe him nothing, and giving him this book won’t change who he is or was.”

She remains fixed on their interlocked fingers for a long time. When she finally looks at him, her eyes are filled with pain. “I just want to believe him when he says he’s going to take them down because…I don’t think I have it in me.” Her breath stutters, eyes glistening.

“They deserve to pay for what they did to you,” Astarion says. For making her feel small, for making her believe that she wasn’t worth time or energy or space. He hates them for that.

“And then what? It doesn’t bring my sister back. It doesn’t fix my childhood. It doesn’t change that I loved them and they never loved me. It won’t change a damn thing! I can’t get what Karlach said today out of my head. I can’t make them sorry, Astarion.”

He knows she’s right, but he wants her to be wrong. “You don’t know what your brother is going to do with it. He might protect them. I watched you, that day at the Audience Hall. I saw the way their indifference affected you. It was like you weren’t there. I never want to see that happen to you again.”

She had gone so distant, and it had scared him. She is always so perfectly put together, never caught off guard for long. But that day, something inside of her had broken off and rattled around all day long.

“And I don’t want to spend any more of my life thinking of them or making decisions because of them. I’m going to give this book to Percy before I lose my nerve, and then….I’m done. Whatever happens, happens.”

For her, that will be far easier said than done. Astarion still isn't happy that she's just going to hand the book over, but he supposes that if Percy turns out to be a shit, then he wouldn't feel very bad about killing him. “Alright. Do you want me to go with you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I think I need to do this alone.”

He brings their interlocked hands up to his mouth, and presses a kiss against her knuckles. “Just cast a fireball through the floor if there’s an emergency.”

She snorts, and smiles a little. It’s not enough, but it’ll do for now. “I’ll try to avoid emergencies of that type.”

“I’m sure the owners will appreciate that.”

“I heard you. I promise,” she says as she steps away. And then he lets her go where he cannot follow.

***

She heads for the stairs, waiting to hear the door shut to their rooms before she leans heavily against the wall, sucking down deep breaths and letting everything Astarion just said wash over her. It’s not that she’s afraid of him seeing any of this, of the vulnerability, or the weakness. It’s just that she needs a moment alone - alone - in ways she hasn’t been since they got to the city. It’s far more convenient to stay here at the Elfsong, and she’s missed sleeping in a real bed. But she can only seem to snatch pockets of isolation. She just needs to think.

For so long she used to tell herself that the entire world wasn’t her room, wasn’t her estate, wasn’t this loneliness that threatened to eat her from the inside. And now that she’s here, surrounded by friends and love and people, she craves isolation. She needs a moment where she can just be, and no one will see. Where she can break down, for herself only and then pick up her own pieces.

Astarion isn’t wrong. She offers everything she can, convinced that if she has nothing to give that no one will stick around. And logically, she knows now it’s not true. That her friends care about her not what she can do for them, but that fear still lurks, still whispers in the darkness. She cannot give it space now though. There will be time later, space for her to think about all of this. But for now, she simply needs to go and meet her brother and wash her hands of all of this.

The Elfsong is busy tonight. There is music and dancing and games. Liv catches snippets of conversation celebrations, speculations, and the inexhaustible variety of people’s lives. She feels so small in this room, surrounded by all of these strangers. There’s something kind of beautiful about it. She sits down at a table in the corner, in a place of relative quiet, and watches the people around her in their merriment.

When Percy sits down across from her, she is pulled back from the buzz of people, from the din of voices, to this table, this moment. He brings with him two mugs of ale, which was probably wise, they’ll draw attention if they’re not drinking in a tavern.

“You look tired,” he says.

She could say the same about him. He’s dressed just as finely as the night before, but there are deep bruises beneath his eyes as if he didn’t sleep at all. “It was a long day.”

“Everyone is talking about Gortash’s death,” Percy says as he takes a drink.

Liv nods. “Yeah. About that…” She reaches into her lap, and pulls out the ledger she found in Gortash’s safe. “Here.” She slides it across the table.

Percy stares at it but doesn’t pick it up. “What do you want for it?” He’s watching her closely.

“You already gave me the information we wanted, which was not a great negotiation strategy if you really wanted me to keep my end.”

“And yet here we are,” Percy smiles, pulling the book closer to him. Perhaps, Astarion was right; Percy knew she’d do this. But he surprises her by cocking his head. “You really don’t want anything else?”

“I have some questions I’d like to ask, but there is no expectation. The book is yours either way.”

Percy stares at her for a moment. “That is fairer than I deserve. Ask your questions.”

“How long…how long have you been…this? Working against them?” This is the question that has haunted her. That there might have been more allies in that house than she ever knew, and why didn’t she know? How could she have not realized?

He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice pitched low enough not to be overheard. “I’ve always hated Dad. There was an incident once, at a party. He was showing me off, making me perform for his friends. Gods, you would’ve been three years old maybe? I messed up, and his magic came for me. I think he was honestly surprised when people were horrified.

“I got sent away to Cormyr for almost four years after that so that all the gossip could calm down. When I got back, my plan was always to unseat him. To reign victorious over him and Cressida. I worked at it for a long time, until the night that..uh…” He looks supremely uncomfortable, and shifts in his chair. “Until that night.”

She knows he’s referring to Brelia’s death. It was never spoken of, even in the immediate aftermath. Her family had been so good at avoiding it, that sometimes Liv wondered if Brelia’s death had happened only to her.

“I watched them bury it, use their wealth and power and connections to cover the whole thing up. And I realized that I didn’t want to be him anymore.”

“So you joined the Guild?” Liv asked, trying to piece it all together to rearrange this person she thought she knew into the man across from her.

Percy laughs and takes another drink. “No, I got my ass captured by the Guild after a monthslong spree of drinking and gambling and trying to spend as much of the family money as I could.”

“You seem pretty cozy with them now.”

He grins. “You know what’s better than a noble you can buy off? One who actually believes in your cause.”

“So what? You joined the Guild and what? Became a good guy?”

Percy shrugs. “The Guild isn’t good, but Nine-Fingers has a vision and wants to take care of the people who have been looked down on for too long. She’s got a code. Which is more than I can say for our father.”

Still, there is something bothering her. “You knew I was trying to undermine our parents wherever I could, but you never said anything.”

Percy goes quiet then, smile fading. He is looking anywhere but at her. “Your stunts were useful distractions. Kept our parents' attention focused elsewhere.”

Liv leans back in her chair, letting the revelation hang in the air. She could’ve had an ally in that house, but instead, he’d seen her ‘stunts’ as distractions, useful to him. She had known she’d been ineffective at fighting against her parents. They had too much power, too much influence. She’d been going about it the wrong way; she can see that now.

“Well, then. Guess that’s something.” The bitterness is evident in her words, and she wishes it wasn’t. Wishes for aloofness, for calm that seems to elude her.

Percy runs a hand down his face and sighs. “I thought about it…more than once. But Liv, you were free, freer than any of us. I…I always hoped you’d get out. And you did.”

“Free? Free of what?”

“Their fucking expectations. Gods, I was so envious of you. They didn’t expect a damn thing of you!”

And that had been the problem. She had desperately tried for years and years to get their attention, their love, their approval. Something . They had remained horribly and terribly indifferent. It would have been kinder if they had been cruel or hateful. There had been nothing personal about it. And she was left wondering what on earth she had to offer anyone at all. But she had been envious of him too, of the attention her parents had paid him. “I guess the grass is always greener.”

“And you had Brelia and Roland anyway. You didn’t need me.”

She looks at her brother then, tries to really see who is around this mask he puts on and wears about, beyond the smoke and the mirrors and the insufferability. His last words are spoken so quickly, so automatically that she wonders if it is a question or otherwise a justification. She doesn’t know him well enough to guess.

“Brelia died and Roland left. In the end, I didn’t have anyone. It would have been nice to have not been alone.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing good lasted in that house.”

Liv can’t help but agree. “It didn’t.”

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. For all of it.”

She’s dreamed of hearing these words from her family, for them to know and acknowledge the things done to her, the crimes committed. But she is surprised at how much she doesn’t want them from Percy. She understands now that he was just another victim of that house, of her parents. His suffering was different from hers so she didn’t see it.

“You don’t have to…”

Percy leans forward again again, looking utterly lost. “No, I owe you…we could…I don’t know…”

She wants nothing he might offer her out of guilt. And Astarion’s warning snags in her mind. “You know, Percy, I didn’t want a relationship with the person I thought you were, and I don’t know that I want a relationship with the person you are now. So…maybe this would just be easier for us both if we just let go of all expectations. You don’t owe me anything.” And she doesn’t owe him anything either.

The severing hurts worse than she expects. The relief in Percy’s eyes hurts more. And just like that, she’s cut loose the last connection to her family. Maybe after this is all over, she might have the time to figure this all out, to understand who her brother is and if she still wants him in her life, but she is not guaranteed an after. And she knows this: that she has had enough disappointment and heartbreak in her life when it comes to family; she does not need more.

Percy just nods, eyes fixed on his mug. “Yeah, alright. I…uh…thank you for your help.”

She stands then, her own mug utterly untouched. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Me too.”

She turns then, to head for the stairs when she hears him call her name. She turns back, and it’s still odd, to see her brother here.

“Don’t die.”

Nine-Fingers is well-informed enough that he should know what exactly they’re up against, how the odds are so far stacked against them. But they’ve made it this far, so who’s to say? She offers him a smile she doesn’t particularly feel. “I’ll try.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x liv #for once astarion isn't the one having the worst time #bright lost things #slothquisitorwrites

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angstyandromanticwriting · 1 year ago

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Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt

• Occurs after the events of the first film, and partially during the start of the second with an interruption

• Linked to some previous prompts

!TW: Implied suffering from depression, hint of anxiety + separation anxiety, mention/implied previous near-death experience, mention of previously being in a poor relationship + abandonment, implied imprisonment + mention of being arrested, mention of previously being abused (by a parent)/abuse theme in general, mention of weaponry + wanting to die, self-doubt, self put-down(s), mention of being experimented on, hint of having a panic attack, mention of sacrificing one’s life for another, hint of homophobia (from a parent), implied alcoholic substance abuse, mention of death after giving birth + elements of grief, violence, mention of suicidal consideration, hints of manipulation, blood!

“That’s it, then,” you murmured from the cell beside Harley’s, and she would frown, before shaking her head hastily; she didn’t want to lose you again, even after everything that had happened between you both four years ago, “you don’t want me anymore, right? You forgot about me-”

“You’re the one who told me to move on, Y/n!” She retorted, and you would fall quiet, before nodding gravely, bowing your head, and sinking back down onto the edge of your bed. “I thought you were dead,” she continued feebly, whilst she began to recall how she had been crouched before you, whilst cradling your dying body close to her, “I - I didn’t know what else to do.. I felt so lost-”

“I know,” you tried to reassure her, “Harleen, I - I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I know, I just.. I left everything for this - the - the safety of my aunt’s pack in the forest. I left it all, for you, but.. I don’t blame you for moving on, at all; I could never blame you for anything, b-because.. I..” You would then falter, not sure if she would want to hear the significant three words you had been about to offer her, so instead you would draw in a shaky breath, before changing the subject in a strained manner, as if you could break down at any given moment, whilst she appeared to be fighting back tears alongside you; she now regretted whole-heartedly her relationship with the man known as the ‘Joker’, and not just because of how he had recently thrown her out onto the streets without any protection whatsoever, resulting in her getting herself arrested again, but also because of how she could see it was evidently paining you to know, and smell that his scent was tainting her’s, rather than it still being your’s doing so. “H-How long has it been now, Quinzels - Since we last.. saw one another?” You inquired, and she would stare down at her hands whilst she began to fidget with them; she didn’t want to have to think about that moment again.

“T-Three, no,” she answered, evidently unsure, as if she were testing herself, “four… years.”

“Time really does fly when you’re happy,” you mused dejectedly, whilst she found herself a little in shock; she couldn’t believe it had already been that long, as she had even been considering silently, before beginning to test her previous answers, chiming yesterday, because it felt like it had only been a matter of a few days, instead of a few years.

“Wait a minute,” she began timidly, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did; she hated that she couldn’t get any closer to you than she already was, though she felt as if she should be trying to act as if she didn’t want to be any closer to you after you’d somehow managed to survive, and not come back to her sooner before she could find herself involved in everything that had led up to this moment, “you never told me why you were in here, or are - please don’t tell me you did something stupid to get them to bring you in just because I’m stuck here.”

You would hesitate, before gravely shaking your head; you were afraid of what she might think of you if you told her. “You’d hate me even more than you do, now, if I told you,” you assumed, and she would grimace, before shaking her head, and swinging herself over to the left side of her cell so she could cling to one of the bars with her right hand - the drapes were still there - surprisingly - as if it had been known that she would be eventually brought back, “I can’t risk that-”

“I don’t hate you,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself, and you would be surprised, glancing up at her whilst your eyes began to glint; you hoped that maybe she did still love you, even after everything that had happened, and after she’d been with someone else, “Y/n, tell me - this relationship used to be all about communication, whatever happened to that?”

“Funny,” you mustered, before forcing a short, crestfallen giggle, “I didn’t know we even had a relationship anymore.” She would be surprised to feel her heart sinking in response; she hated seeing you like this - like you had been whilst you were living with your abusive father. “C-Can I ask you something, before I tell you why I’m here-?” You inquired, prompting her to reluctantly nod, though she was worried about what your question might be; she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up her charade of indifference for much longer if things went on between you both like this. “Do you - Do you think it’s.. possible - to love too much?” You asked, and she would frown, before bowing her head again to try and hide that her tears were managing to - one by one - slowly slide down her cheeks.

“If you wanted me to lie, I’d say no,” she answered, her voice barely audible, and close to a whisper, “because you already look like you’re in too-.. too much pain, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore; I wouldn’t even-.. consider doing something like that to my worst enemy.”

“We’re enemies, now-?” You mustered, and she would fall quiet, a pained expression on her face; she could never consider you, or view you to be an enemy of her’s. “Look, if - if you ever decide.. decide to put a gun to my head.. I’d let you take my life,” you admitted, “you’re the only one who deserves to, though I’d willingly let anyone shoot me down, after today.”

She would shake her head again, whilst her eyes began to widen a little; she could never do that to you; she still, and knew she always would, loved you too much to take your life, especially when she knew she’d never be able to forgive herself if she did, and would never see you again, and she couldn’t live with that, nor could she ever live without you - now that she thought about it, those four previous years she’d spent away from you, not knowing if you were dead or alive, were more painful that she had been trying not to think them to be, and she’d spent many of her nights, if not all, thinking about your dying body in her arms whilst she cried over it. “But, Nugget, I-”

“Ladies,” a rough voice sounded out, and you would tense up instantly, whilst you began to growl a little, and threateningly advance closer to the front of your cell, close to the right side of it; you were worried about Harley’s welfare, and hoped that you could somehow protect her from here if anyone tried to hurt her, “it’s lights-out in a minute, and you better not be talking once the lights go off, or I’ll get into trouble-”

“Why should we care?” You questioned, or hissed, rather, and the man would wince, before looking over at Harley, who would then remember that she’d not introduced you both to one another yet. “We’d be happy if you lost your job-”

“Y/n, wait,” she cooed, “he’s a friend.”

You would appear shocked by this revelation as you looked over at her, and she would smile apologetically over at you. “A friend-?” You uttered, and she would nod, prompting you to grow doubtful again as you looked between him and her, and then sniffed a little to see if his scent matched the one tainting her’s, but it didn’t, puzzling you.

“Not like that-!” She squeaked, noticing that you appeared dejected again. “It - It’s a lot to explain,” she mused, before looking over at the man again, “care to do the honours of enlightening her-?”

Flag would grunt; he evidently didn’t want to. “You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you-?” He guessed, and she would wince, before quickly looking away, prompting you to subconsciously smile a little; you found her adorable whenever she was flustered like she undoubtedly was, now. “Just not about the friend part,” he continued, prompting her to shoot a glare over at him, prompting him to chuckle, before he turned to face you, and began to explain what had happened four years ago, whilst she had been imprisoned the first time.

As soon as he had finally explained it all, you would appear exhausted whilst puzzling over the information that had been bestowed upon you a moment ago. “So you’re meant to be giving us a luxury experience, right?” You assumed, and he would wince, before looking away, and rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Something like that, I suppose,” he mumbled begrudgingly, and Harley would grin, amused by his reaction, whilst you would force a smile over at the both of them, though you still felt empty, and as if you had nothing left; though you had been hoping that maybe she did still feel the same way for you, you doubted that she ever could, “but nothing too - drastic; I can’t let you out of here, I’m afraid - especially not you, new girl.”

You would nod gravely; you knew they’d prioritise keeping you stuck there, as they haven’t yet experimented on you like you’d overheard them planning to do. “Great,” you replied cheerfully, as if you were unperturbed, “but - I have no reason, really, to try to escape, when I have Harleen here with me, unless she wants to escape, but.. I doubt she’d want.. me - to go with her.”

You would then appear dejected again whilst you thought about everything that had happened, and about how you’d felt as if everything were collapsing within you as soon as you had picked up the scent of the man she’d been with whilst you’d been gone, and presumed dead, and you even wished, now, that you had been killed, and left to die in the forest. Harley would then look over at you again, a hurt look on her face, but she would feel worse when she noticed that you were trying not to cry again. She would have to then try and force herself not to contradict you - now that you’d found her, she wanted never to lose you again, and was determined to keep you with her, this time, and to never let anyone take you away from her again, but she was afraid that maybe you didn’t still feel the same way, and couldn’t face the idea of possibly ruining her relationship with you after she’d just been reunited with you today, a few hours ago. “You don’t know that,” she remarked, “Y/n..”

“Do I want to know what went on between you both, or-?” Flag inquired, curious, and you would quickly shake your head, not wanting the story to be retold; it was too painful to be reminded of, and Harley seemed to be opposed to the idea, too. “Alright,” he continued, trying not to appear disappointed, but he could see that it would probably upset you both to tell him, so he wouldn’t push either of you to, “well - like I said when I came in - lights out is coming, fast, so you better get yourselves to sleep, or at least - whisper, but if either of you shout-”

“We won’t, we promise,” she interrupted, desperate to be alone with you again, and he would hesitantly nod, before smiling faintly.

“Night,” he concluded, before walking toward the door, and as soon as he had left the room, the lights went out, startling you as you began to look around, finding you could no longer see anything, and it panicked you as you began to feel around your cell, whilst whimpering and whining a little; you were terrified that something might emerge out of the darkness, and attack you, like your father had one time, in the early hours of the morning, before you’d met, spoken, and fallen in love with Harley as soon as you’d laid eyes on her the first time.

“Y/n-? Are you okay?” You would falter upon hearing her voice again, and desperately search for her, forgetting that she was in the cell beside your’s, and not in the same space as you, so when you found you couldn’t find her, you would begin to panic, and a strained sob would escape your lips whilst you curled up in the corner of your cell, and hugged your knees to your chest tightly, worrying her; she couldn’t see you either, and was wondering why you were scared like you evidently were. “Nugget-”

You would fall quiet again, before beginning to cry, prompting her chest to begin to ache again; she just wanted to find you and try to provide comfort to you as much as she possibly could, but it pained her to be reminded that she couldn’t even get any closer to you than she was, now, stood at the left side of her cell, whilst clinging to the bars, and hoping that you would be able to see her, if you got closer. “Q-Quinzels, please, I’m scared,” you begged shakily, “he’ll beat me again; I - I can’t.. I can’t face another one, please.. help me..”

“I can’t get to you there,” she reminded you, and you would wince, remembering that you were both in separate cells, “you need to come closer - try and follow my voice to the right side, and I’m there, okay?”

You would force yourself back up to your feet, before nodding timidly to try and reassure yourself, and staggering over to the right side of your cell. As soon as you could make out her figure opposite you in the darkness, you would appear elated, giggling breathlessly, whilst she awkwardly held your hands in her’s through the bars, soothing you more than you thought possible in nothing longer than an instant. “You’re still here,” you managed shakily, though your voice was threatening to give up on you, and she would nod, whilst smiling lovingly over at you to try and provide further comfort to you, and you would hastily return the smile, until you heard footsteps passing the door of the room you were both in, startling you as you whined again, and looked over at the door.

“No,” she cooed, and you would look between her and the door, whilst growling softly, “look at me, Nugget, nothing can hurt you, and I won’t ever let your father do anything to you ever again, I swear - if he even comes close to you, I will kill him before he can even lay one finger on you.”

You would shake your head, evidently terrified that he might hurt her, if she tried to save you from him. “N-No,” you whined, “you can’t - if - if he-.. if he hurt you, I.. no - I won’t let you.. I can’t live without you-”

“You won’t have to,” she tried to reassure you, “just breathe, okay? B-Before you have a panic attack on me; I can’t get to you, a-and - I swear I’ll panic, too, if I can’t calm you down.” You would nod again, whilst trying to stay calm by losing yourself in her stunning icy blue eyes. “You’ll.. You’ll be okay, I promise,” she continued gently, and you would nod once more, whilst you began to wonder why she was trying to calm you down; why she was wasting her time on you, “follow me.” She would then slowly lead you toward the area in which the beds were; your’s was opposite her’s, and she would beam over at you again once she could tell that you’d found your’s. “Try and get some sleep,” she cooed, and you would hesitate, before nodding gravely, “and.. I promise things.. things will be better tomorrow; I’m sure they will.”

“Quinzels, w-wait,” you mustered, and she would look back at you, evidently nervous again, “do you.. still.. love me?”

She would be surprised, as well as elated, but she would try and hide it again as she timidly stepped closer to the bars opposite you and her. “Does - Does this answer your question-?” She would inquire, before easing you closer to her to the best of her ability, and awkwardly connecting her lips to your’s; she couldn’t hold it back anymore, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, and as soon as the kiss had sadly ended, you would find yourself wearing a dazed expression on your face whilst you stared into her eyes again. “I’ve loved you ever since I first met you,” she expressed, and you would appear relieved, a smile soon tugging at the corners of your lips again whilst your heart raced alongside her’s in the best way possible, “and I never stopped thinking about you, after.. even after what happened; I couldn’t. You’re my soulmate, Nugget, and that’ll never change, I promise; I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you returned, before connecting your lips to her’s again, before begrudgingly letting her go, and sinking back down into your bed whilst she did the same opposite you, “g-goodnight, Quinzels.”

“Night, little wolfy,” she cooed, and you would hesitantly let your eyelids flutter shut, finally feeling as if things would be okay again, with only thoughts of Harley and your and her hopefully blissful future together circling your mind endlessly.

🜸🜚🜸

You’d been quiet ever since you had been brought back to your cell, after they had experimented on you - officials sent by the Omega Prime Minister, and Harley would wonder what they’d done to you, worried, as well as burning with anger; she couldn’t believe they’d dare hurt you like they evidently had, and wished she could kill them herself, especially after she’d promised you the night before that she would never let anything hurt you again. The reminder of her promise appeared to pain her, too, as well as seeing how you were currently trembling a little whilst you sat on your bed, whilst hugging your knees to your chest as if you were terrified, and needed something to hold on to. That was another thing - she wished she could be in your cell with you; she hated being away from you, and wanted nothing more, but to hug and kiss you in this moment to try and provide comfort to you. “What did they do to you-?” She questioned softly, but sternly, and you would tense up upon hearing the question again after a few moments of silence, but you wouldn’t answer. “Y/n-”

“We need to get out of here,” you mustered shakily, your voice barely audible, and she would tilt her head partially, whilst expressing some relief; this was the first time you’d spoken upon your return, “now-”

“We have no plan whatsoever,” she reminded you, “how could we? It’s too risky-”

“We can’t stay here; you can’t stay here,” you interjected, and she would grunt, before shaking her head again; she couldn’t allow herself to risk you getting killed in a reckless attempt to escape - at least, not this time; she would engage in a more reckless plan, if you weren’t endangered by it.

“We have to,” she contradicted, “your life would be on the line if we tried to escape here with no plan, and I can’t allow anything to happen to you-” You would groan, but she would continue before you could protest. “Y/n, I almost lost you four years ago, and that was because of me trying to pretend that I hated you for what you did to Max, w-when really.. I.. I still loved you - somehow more.. more than I ever had before, like I do, now, and I should have told you that - then, maybe-.. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt trying to save my life, because we would have still been together, and could have - worked together; found a safe way out together, and escaped from the Omega.” You would shake your head, whilst smiling softly to yourself, puzzling, as well as worrying her even more as she wondered why your demeanour had changed all of a sudden. “What-? Why - Why are you-.. Why are you smiling like that?” She questioned, and you would then glance up at her, your eyes glinting whilst you did, before you shuffled closer to the bars on the right side of you, prompting her to turn and fully face you, and to offer you her hands through the bars, which you accepted instantly without hesitation.

“I was just thinking,” you answered, “even if we did devise a plan together - it wouldn’t.. it wouldn’t stop me from risking my life for your’s - I would choose saving your life over mine, any day, no matter what the cost of my actions would be, as - as long as they mean you’re safe; I love you so much, Quinzels.”

She would beam over at you in reply, whilst wondering what she’d done to deserve someone as good as you, whilst you, alongside - and unbeknownst - to her would ponder over the same topic; you still couldn’t believe someone as perfect as her loved a supposed nobody and monster like you, but there she was, and had always been - loving you, like you never would have thought she would after you’d first spoken to her during your and her college years together - one of the best moments of your life. “I love you, too,” she returned, before gently squeezing your hands reassuringly, and your smile would manage to grow alongside her’s, “y’know - you still haven’t told me what you did, and why to land yourself stuck in here with me.”

You would wince, remembering what had happened clearly, and she would tilt her head partially, whilst beginning to regret a little asking you; she could see it was paining you somewhat to remember, and hoped that that meant that you hadn’t done what you’d done intentionally to get caught, and brought to her. “You really - want to know? Really?” You pried, and she would nod hastily, finding herself desperate, and you would hesitantly let go of her hands, whilst you bowed your head a little occasionally as you began to explain what had happened whilst you recalled it, and she would listen intently - something she’d rather not do for anyone else, but you.

•

After you had been treated by your aunt’s pack, you would hesitantly return to your father’s house to see how he was doing, though you regretted almost instantly doing so when you came back to find him intoxicated, with his head laid down upon his arms, but as soon as you opened and softly closed the front door, already feeling rather dejected after you’d picked up that Harley’s scent had been tainted by someone else’s, he would lift his head up and squint, scowling as soon as he could make out that it was you. “Well, well - didn’t think I’d see you again for a while,” he remarked, his words slurred, and voice rough, before he forced himself to his feet in an unstable manner, “but I knew you’d come back, all the same - you don’t belong out there, with all your probably so called ‘lady friends’. Tell me-” He would grin, whilst leaning heavily against the table, and you would grimace over at him, whilst trying not to wince, or express that the stench of alcohol radiating from him was burning your nostrils. “Has she dropped you? I bet she has,” he chimed, “told you this lesbian thing you’ve got going on wouldn’t work-”

“It’s good to see that you’re alive, too, father,” you strained through gritted teeth, “I thought maybe the alcohol would have taken you completely by now.”

He would then appear redder in the face as he grew angrier, but you wouldn’t let it show that you were afraid; he would most likely try to beat you again, and the reminder of how he’d tried to hurt Harley, too, those four years ago would prompt you to growl quietly, whilst your fangs would subconsciously unfold, and irises would flicker dangerously between their usual colour, a bold, threatening yellow, and a red - normally a signal of an Alpha, but you’d always denied it, believing you could never be the Alpha your mother had been, before she’d died after giving birth to you. “Are you saying you want me dead?” He hissed, before storming up to you, but you would manage to get yourself to somehow stand a little taller; you couldn’t let him intimidate you, and the anger was helping to trump your fear and sadness. “How dare you!” He roared, before slapping you across the face, and you would grunt, forcing back a whimper whilst your left cheek began to sting, and appear a faint, but prominent red. “You’re pathetic,” he spat, “and in no way Alpha material - if you were any good an Alpha your mother was, you wouldn’t ever dare say such things to any member of your pack, especially not your family; your Betas-”

You would force a grin, before baring your teeth a little as you drew closer to him, though the stench of alcohol was more prominent, and made you want to be sick. “If I were an Alpha, I would never accept you into my pack, ever,” you retorted, “I don’t want to have to be anywhere near you ever again, and that’s why - this time - I’m leaving for good.”

He would scoff, watching whilst you made for the front door hastily; you were afraid you’d lose control of yourself any minute now, as your body was heating up faster than any furnace ever could, and every vein within your body was burning with the rage, sadness and betrayal you were currently feeling inside, paining you more than any of his beatings ever could. “If you walk out that door,” he began again, and you would sharply turn to face him, whilst your right hand rested on the handle of the front door; you’d be safer to escape from the front at this time - it was quite dark and late; nobody would surely recognise you in time to call you in, and the Omegas who were probably patrolling the edges of Apocalypse Forest wouldn’t be able to get you from there. You see, you hadn’t exactly planned, yet, to get yourself caught; you were hoping, instead, you’d be able to break Harley out of prison yourself, and see if she would be happy to see you, or not, in which case you’d try and stay out of her way, though it would hurt you to do so, and most likely result in you either taking your own life, or becoming an Omega, yourself. “Take one step out, even - you’re no longer one of us,” he threatened, before advancing closer again with fiery eyes, now, “you’ll be one of them, and that means I’ll treat you like you’re one of them!” He would then shove you, and your body would begin to tremble a little; you were struggling to fight back the wolf within you, at this point; it was scratching at the surface excruciatingly, soon getting so much - unbearably - stronger. “Think about how ashamed your mother would feel, if she found out, or could see that you were treating me so horribly, and trying, even, to abandon me-”

“She would be happy for me,” you contradicted, “and why are you acting as if you care about her now, all of a sudden? You used to beat her, too-”

“How do you know that-?” He questioned, appearing startled, and you would scowl over at him again whilst your hands would begin to tremble a little; you were desperate to just wrap them around his neck and strangle him after everything he’d done to you, and your mother. “Who-”

“Doesn’t matter who,” you mustered, though it was even getting hard for you to speak, now; your throat was burning - you hadn’t gone hunting for a little while, and every now and then needed just a little amount of blood to get by, not as much as a vampire probably would, but some, not that his blood seemed at all appetising to you. “What matters is that I know what you did to her,” you continued, “how she suffered, and had been made to live constantly in fear because of you-”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you dare try and deny it; you’re an abuser, and thrive off of administering pain to others-”

“Shut up!” He yelled, before making to hit you again, but this time your instincts would kick in before you could stop them, prompting you to lunge forward, and tear into your wolf form, knocking him to the ground so you could bite at his chest, neck, and left arm, and he would soon fall unconscious whilst blood slowly pooled around him, and you would falter as soon as you noticed it, before jumping back, and beginning to panic; he could die; you’d almost killed him, or still could if he wasn’t treated, and soon, so you would then hurriedly change back, and call an ambulance for him, as well as the police whilst you trembled violently, and then sank to the ground in the corner of the room a few paces away from his body, but you would express some relief when you remembered Harley would be where you would certainly end up being taken, yourself, even when you could hear that the sirens were beginning to draw closer and closer until they were blaring outside your father’s house.

•

“I would have run, but..” You mused, before glancing up at her, and smiling faintly, but you would instantly look away as soon as her gaze had met your’s; you were worried about what she might think of you, now that she knew what you’d done, but she was glad you’d hurt him, after everything that he’d done to you and your mother. “I remembered you’d - you’d be here, too,” you stated, “your scent led me here, and it’s the closest place to our side of Apocalypse Forest, so I stayed, and waited for them to take me; I couldn’t be away from you any longer, e-even - even if.. if you’d forgotten about me, or.. didn’t feel the same way for me anymore.” Harley would frown, before tilting her head partially; she could never lose the feelings she held for you, and nor could she ever forget about you, even if she was with someone else for a brief time, or if she presumed you to be dead like she had, since that day four years ago on which you’d risked your life for her’s, up until yesterday when she’d found out that you were still alive. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you? For hurting him like that-”

“No,” she interjected gently, and you would appear surprised, glancing up at her again timidly, “Nugget, I-..”

“You have to hate me,” you whined, before turning to her, and suddenly grabbing onto the two bars in front of you, as if you were begging her to, “I’m a monster, Harleen; I could hurt you if you stayed with me, but.. I - I don’t know.. Please just hate me, and love me, b-but-”

“I don’t hate you,” she contradicted, and you would falter, a pained expression on your face; you had been sometimes hoping maybe she would, alongside hoping that she still felt the same way, as you were often worried that maybe she’d be better off putting you out of your misery, herself, and finding someone better than you - someone who could guarantee her safety, love, and happiness - all of the things you felt as if you couldn’t do; or, rather, worried that you couldn’t do for her, “even though I wish I could sometimes - you’re so confusing; what do you want me to do, and why? Why come here for me if you want me to hate you, and love you at the same time?”

“I don’t.. I don’t know,” you answered dejectedly, feeling lost again, and she would timidly intertwine the fingers of her hands with the shaky fingers of your’s, “I love you, Quinzels.. I just-.. I’m scared, a-and.. I don’t wanna hurt you, and s-sometimes I just wonder if you’ll be better off without me. And there’s the fact that I’m basically a nobody, n-not even an Alpha; I’m sick of being useless, and getting in your way all the time.”

“You never get in my way,” she claimed, “and you are an Alpha, Y/n - you just need to start viewing yourself as one, and then you’ll feel confident enough to act on your instincts, I promise; I know you can do this, Nugget; I know you can be the Alpha your mum was, maybe even better, and I’m gonna be here with you every step of the way, no matter what; I love you so much, and I always will, just - promise me you’ll never forget that.”

“I’ll never forget,” you reassured, before leaning forward and awkwardly connecting your lips to her’s though the bars were quite a bit in the way. “We should get Flag to allow us to be in the glass box together,” you mused, and Harley would nod hastily in agreement; she was desperate to be in the same space as you, as she hated being separated from you, like you hated being kept away from her, “think we should ask him when he comes back for lights out?”

“Hell yeah,” she answered, “I can’t stand one more second away from you like this.”

“I’m having the same problem,” you expressed dejectedly, and she would smile sadly over at you, “but we’ll probably have to wait longer than another second, I’m afraid - unless we think of something to do together? A game? Time would definitely fly if we did.”

“Wait,” she chimed; she’d got an idea, “c-could I.. maybe.. read to you for a bit?”

“Sure-!” You answered, appearing excited; you couldn’t think of anything better in a situation like this; you loved listening to her voice, as it soothed you and made you feel as if you were safe, and also made you feel blissfully warm and fuzzy; her voice was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. “I - I’d love that,” you stammered out, and she would smirk over at you, amused by your reaction, as well as a little flustered by it; she didn’t think that you would be that excited to listen to her, and found herself wondering, again, what she’d done to deserve someone as good as you, whilst you were thinking the same thing alongside her; you couldn’t believe someone as perfect as her loved a supposed nobody and monster like you.

“I bet you would,” she teased, and you would be further flustered alongside her, this time, “okay - make yourself comfortable, because Flag’s probably gonna be a while.” You would do as she said without any hesitation whatsoever, curling up on your bed a little whilst she picked up her book, found where she’d left off, and began to read it out loud, until lights out and Flag sadly arrived, whilst you had been hoping you’d get more time to listen to her reading to you like she had been, for almost a couple of hours now.

🜚

“Please, Flag, no one needs to know,” Harley begged; Flag hadn’t been particularly pleased to hear about the idea, and it was looking, at the moment, like he would constantly refuse your and her request, until you got an idea.

“No can-do, I’m afraid-”

“If you do this for us, we’ll never ask for anything else ever again,” you pleaded, evidently desperate, and Flag would hesitate; he wanted to be able to return to the way he was meant to do his job, and would appear to be considering it for a moment whilst you and her tensely awaited his next decision.

“For how long?” He inquired, and you would both express relief, whilst also appearing elated at the prospect of being able to be closer to one another again, and you longed for the moment you could cling to her, and bury your face into the crook of her neck, allowing you to drown blissfully in her scent, until you remembered, again, that her scent had been tainted, and you needed to try and get your’s to mix with her’s, again.

“For as long as we’re in here,” you answered, and he would grunt, before looking around, and then nodding gravely.

“Fine, but I swear to god - if you get me fired-”

“We won’t,” Harley tried to reassure him, “we’ll be quiet, don’t worry, and nobody will come in and see us - just you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before wincing, and you would smirk; you could tell he was wondering what he might end up unfortunately walking in on eventually, “as long as I don’t walk in on - er.. anything.. how do I put this? Dirty.”

Harley would grin in your direction, before lifting an eyebrow, and you would appear flustered all of a sudden, prompting her to giggle. “Oh don’t worry, you will,” she replied, and he would scoff, and force a disgusted expression, before waving, and turning to leave; he’d agreed to allow you both to go into the glass box together tomorrow night, just to be safe, and allow for mental preparation, “won’t he?”

“Maybe,” you responded timidly, before smirking back at her, and holding her hands through the bars again, “I was planning to have a few fun nights with you, but we’ll have to wait and see if he walks in on the right ones; tame ones that I have planned.”

“I look forward to each and every one of them,” she cooed, before awkwardly connecting her lips to your’s again, and you would melt into the kiss instantly, whilst longing to cling to her again, “want me to read to you some more-?”

You would be surprised, before nodding, whilst your eyes began to glint. “You read my mind,” you answered, and she would beam over at you, before hesitantly releasing your hands whilst you both returned to your beds, and you would curl up again on your’s whilst she began to read to you again quietly, but still blissfully and enchantingly due to the incoming and - for the moment - draining period of lights out which would soon become better and more entertaining for you both the following day, though you always valued one another’s company; it was just painful to be separated from one another like you currently were.

🜸🜸🜸

“What are you thinking about-?” Harley inquired, noticing the guilty look on your face, and you would falter, before glancing up at her, and smiling lovingly; you were both finally in the glass box together during lights out, like Flag had promised you’d be, the night before.

“How I should have just left my aunt’s pack and gone looking for you immediately, instead of staying,” you answered, and she would realise, before shaking her head a little; she didn’t want you to feel as if you should have, especially now that you were here with her, “I - guess.. I also can’t.. shake out of my head what my aunt requested for me to do, before I left.”

“What did she tell you to do?” Harley pried, and you would wince upon remembering it, and hearing the words in your head again.

“I remember it clearly,” you murmured, a pained expression on your face, before you began to repeat them slowly: “‘promise me you’ll look after your father’, and guess what I did? I mauled him, and left him close to death.”

“Good,” she chimed, cradling you even closer to her, and you would gradually begin to feel okay again, and safer, as if nothing could hurt you as long as you were within her arms, “he deserved it; he hurt you and your mother, remember? Don’t ever feel guilty for what happened again, or I might just have to punish you next time.” You would be surprised, as well as flustered as you began to stammer, prompting her to giggle softly, before she leaned down a little to delicately connect her lips to your’s - a feeling you’d missed since you thought you’d lost her that day four years ago. “I missed you so much,” she expressed, her voice barely audible, and you would smile apologetically up at her, before lifting your right hand up to her left cheek, and she would instantly melt into your touch subconsciously.

“I missed you, too,” you whispered, though you felt as if you could break down any minute now; your emotions were overwhelming you, like they usually did, so you would try and think of something else to say whilst you both stared longingly into one another’s eyes, “t-tell me a secret.”

She would smirk, before tilting her head partially. “It’s not much of a secret, but - I just wanna say it again - I love you so much, Nugget, and I always will, no matter what,” she answered, “what’s your secret?”

“You know all of my secrets now,” you reminded her, “but - I’ll give you this one: I love you, too, more than anything - I always have, and I always will, too; you’re everything to me, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“We’re soulmates, aren’t we?” She cooed, and you would nod without hesitation, certain that you were. “We’re never gonna lose each other again, I promise,” she added, before connecting her lips to your’s again, and you would instantly melt into the kiss, “now - how about you let me act on your punishment?”

You would beam up at her, before nodding again. “I’d love that,” you answered, prompting her to smirk, before proceeding to kiss you again, and lower you a little down onto the makeshift bed within the glass box you were both currently in together.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it, and Happy New Year! ❤️

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eatingfireflies · 2 months ago

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3.2 spoilers

I still haven't finished the main quest but what's bugging me is how they did have all the necessary tools and foreshadowing to make that debate work and somehow missed the mark anyway

- the Council's reluctance about worshipping the very same Chrysos Heirs they keep logging heads with is So Hypocritical considering their plan relies on exploiting the very same people. You are placing a lot of faith in Mydei's ability to keep the black tide at bay. He would do it because he promised he would, but it's honestly so rich considering how badly Kremnos people are treated and how we all snubbed Mydei when he was still around

- I know we want Phainon to say something during the debate because he's the hero of the story. But we literally spoke to NPCs in the previous patch who got imprisoned or died because they had no access to the comforts and luxuries of Okhena

So you have these Okhena citizens having their debates and diplomacies and eating watermelon seeds while literally one person is getting killed and reviving just to fight the black tide AND regular citizens from other towns die outside the city gates. NPCs should have been able to talk during that debate

Phainon's friends and family are already dead but there are actual people who are alive and need help outside Okhena and the game literally forgot about them lmao

BUT honestly I know this is bound to happen because Amphoreus is a story about heroes and gods. And I know they're trying hard to even it out, but ordinary people are so easily forgotten when you have so many godly heroes around you

- And then there's Castorice. Aside from the fact that some parts of the lore is confusing (should there be 2 sides to Thanatos or not?), I think what I'm missing from her story is the element of desperation

So far we have 2 other Chrysos Heirs who showed us exactly what they have given up just to protect what they hold dear (3 if we count Aglaea, but the story is shafting her so hard it's not even funny).

We see in Tribbie and Aglaea that they're losing parts of themselves. Aglaea is basically a husk and an echo of a human being. Tribbie is shattered into tiny versions of herself and we saw before she died how Trianne started to forget not only her past but literally the things happening around her. They're doing this knowing they would die before the quest succeeds. It's heartbreaking.

Mydei's reluctance to follow in the path of Nikador because of how much he had lost due to violent Kremnos traditions (when he had to say good bye to his dead friends at the end 😭)... And becoming what he has been trying to avoid is also heartbreaking. By picking up after Nikador, Mydei can't truly be reunited with his dead loved ones in the afterlife. It's heartbreaking, guys.

Because of this, I expect something from Castorice. And the ingredients were all there! We have the talk of love and how death as a finality makes everything (especially love) more precious. We have her telling Trianne how happy she was to have spent time with them and the other Chrysos Heirs.

But like, she has only known the other Heirs for a while. For most of her life, Castorice has been living mostly by herself/standing apart from humans because she has to. The scene where baby Castorice is dancing alone while holding two twigs in both hands is heartbreaking

And now, not only did she make friends... For a moment, she was actually able to hold one person (because already dead). And I wish they allowed her one moment of human selfishness, like that moment where Trailblazer thought of turning back to look at the field of flowers one more time.

I guess what I want from Castorice is one intense moment of wanting to be alive, because that comes hand in hand with death. You only appreciate Death and what it means because you're alive. And we saw that, we saw her cherish the drawing Trianne gave her.

And I wish there was just one moment where she wavered and thought, 'Hey, I think it sucks that the moment where I have to die is exactly when I feel the happiest and the most alive. I finally have friends and now I have to give it all up and become a god, because I want to save those friends. I hate it but I guess I have to do it.' Like I know we probably don't want to have these characters ugly cry and be petty because we want our gacha waifus to be strong... But I wish Castorice had 1 moment where she ugly cried about having to give up when she's at her happiest. Because that's what being alive is. I want her to show that she truly knows why being alive is important. Not just because we all know being alive is important, but because she wants to keep living personally.

Anyway that is all.

#d plays hsr #this is partly a complaint but i'm not being bitchy about it i swear

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theearlgreymage · 3 years ago

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Okay, but, Snow for Christmas was a fucking TREAT!

Can we please discuss how precious it was? And how I need MORE after reading it.

I'm dropping spoilers below because I've reread this 5 times while at work today and need to let my emotions out.

Baz and Simon having regular lunches with Fiona? Please give me those dialougues. Gimme a fucking screen play of nothing but their lunches

Simon regularly practicing his sword skills AND distracting Baz? You cannot convince me this isn't a flirting tactic doe Simon. Let me read about Simon seducing Baz via a sword 😏

ALWAYS KISSING GOODBYE? MY HEART CANNOT.

Okay, but I also want more family drama from the Grimms and Pitches. Uncle Cyril? Tell me what this man has done to find himself on the wrong side of Malcom Grimm and Simon Snow. Spill that tea. (I will always map Baz's entire family tree if you let me.)

The sofa is PINK!! Need I say more?

Wing Flap Shirts!! I'm so glad our dragon baby finally has clothes he can wear without needing magic. NOW. Which one of you lovelies is drawing this?

"He reaches up and carefully starts to loosen my tie. He's become very skilled at this over the last few months." 😏😏😏

Baz internally swooning at EVERY thought of Simon being his boyfriend.

Simon being a GOOD boyfriend and immediately being up for another dinner with Baz's family. For Baz. Because he's so GOOD

Baz referring to Lady Salisbury as Simon's grandmother? ADORABLE. Lady Salisbury being cool with Simon and Baz bring "as gay we want. We can be extra gay, as a treat." YES. GIVE THESE BOYS A KIND FAMILY FIGURE WHO ACCEPTS THEM WITH NOTHING BUT LOVE. Please give me more visits with the Salisbury family. I need the wholesomeness.

WHERE CAN I READ ABOUT FIONA AND NICOS WEDDING!?!?!?

"We could be married with children --" "Could we?" PLEASE GIVE THEM A FAMILY

Can I get more fanart of Baz with his siblings. Because they are precious little things. And I need more of Petra and Sophie climbing Baz like he's their personal jungle gym. I need more pre-teen Mordelia spending wholesome time with her brother. I need to see Swithin climbing this fucking Tibetan mastiff. Thank you very much.

Can we please give Rainbow Rowell a massive thanks for giving us a more detailed description of Malcom Grimm finally??

I will foot the entire fucking production crew to have that dinner recreated for the screen. I would sell my soul to a Demon like Shepard if it means I can have a quality holiday special of that dinner. Fucking. Hell. Baz IMMEDIATELY grabbing Simon to ground him. Simon SUPPORTING HIS MAN and holding his hand. SIMON BELIEVING IN BAZ THAT HE'S GOT THIS DINNER IN THE BAG AND JUST SERVING BAZ FOOD. Malcom and Daphne crying and pouring drinks over Baz finally finally finally getting to eat dinner with him. Sophie getting gravy in her hair.

And can we also discuss the fact that this scene proves that these little girls know their big brother is a vampire? And they still adore him? They still climb all over him and practically beg for his attention? That these girls just want to spend time with their brother and aren't afraid in the slightest of him?

FANG BACKSTORY BREAKING MY FUCKING HEART. Baby Baz fucking hiding in the barn. Terrified. And Fiona just fucking supporting her nephew. I 100% cried during this scene.

Edit Add cause I somehow forgot to mention : Simon's fucking obsession with Baz's fangs. Like. Honey. No, his family does not want to watch him drain a deer. That's just you.

"I think I got drunk with Baz's dad at dinner." Had me rolling.

Backtracking. WE HAVE CAREER OPTIONS FOR SIMON. And so help me. I would refuse to talk to this man too if he tried to join the RAF or police force. Like. He really needs to address this hero-savior complex with his fucking therapist. For fucks sake. Stop trying to save people Simon. Just get your fucking fork lift license and RELAX.

Really. Die Hard? Are we shocked?

THE. FOREHEAD. KISS.

End of discussion. (But really. Discuss. Because I am feral right now. And I cannot focus on writing lesson plans in this state.)

#snowbaz #carry on #sfc #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #basilton pitch #baz pitch #simon salisbury #rainbow rowell #scattered shower #snow for christmas #spoilers

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conduitandconjurer · 3 years ago

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sorry this got long, so keep scrolling if you aren’t in a headspace for a mutual to vent ooc.

i’m upset for stupid reasons that, i think, go back to bigger or deeper things IRL.

i’m upset that i’ve been too busy as my mother’s sole caretaker OR playing frantic catch-up at work (i’m a professor and it involves a LOT of grading, lecturing, reading, and writing, and frankly extracurricular things like counseling and reporting concerns about students’ emotional or physical safety) to do things like shower, sleep 7-8 hours a night, eat as healthily as i should, exercise, and most of all, do ANYTHING creative to my own satisfaction. it has been more than a WEEK since i have showered! it has been since JUNE since i have even started a complete, finished, full-color artwork.

yeah, i know the positivity drill: “you create things for your own joy, not to be good at them.” but i only enjoy making things (image or word) that i can do with a certain degree of thoroughness and depth. i don’t like to half-ass anything. there’s also executive dysfunction borne of crippling anxiety and depression, which are more situational (C-PTSD) than the result of brain chemistry.

so i’m mad. i’m sad. i’m lonely. i’m tired. i want to just have some semblance of a normal adult life. i have not had a normal life since i was diagnosed with an incurable, progressively worsening illness AT AGE SIX. and i have let it get MUCH worse (my kidneys, stomach, eyes, lymph nodes, and blood vessels are all so badly damaged that there is no fixing them, there is just praying they don’t get worse, and now all sensation in my hands is going too: i can barely type this) because i’ve had to take over for my mother (no, insurance won’t help us, believe me, i’ve looked into it: she’s on dialysis but somehow “not sick enough”) and i have NO TIME to see my OWN doctors and do the necessary lifestyle changes to make MYSELF any better. i want to take a shower, and have energy to do anything after that. i want to go on a date. hell, i have a new boyfriend, but i find dating him to be a chore that i dread because i am so fucking drained by the end of the week that I’d rather just go to bed.

i want to be selfish. i just want to be SELFISH for ONE DAY.

but i know that’s not realistic. i mean i live in a world where everyone, EVERYONE, that i know, has just gone back to attending major events maskless, even though COVID is still surging. people like me are apparently expendable; we’re “sick anyway,” so if we die, it’s “expected.” we get left behind and NO ONE NOTICES.

i won’t be able to do Sheehantober/Sheetober, whatever it’s called, that super cool thing with all the creative prompts.

i won’t be able to draw/paint the entire notebook of ideas i’ve had waiting for “free time” since last february.

i won’t have time to answer my drafts here, that have been sitting since may.

i won’t be able to even catch up on Discord threads, and I CAN’T EVEN FIND THE TIME TO CELEBRATE KLAUS’S BIRTHDAY WITH GOOFY LIGHT HEARTED SIMPLE THINGS. I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT IT ENTIRELY.

but honestly THAT DOESN’T MATTER EITHER, because i haven’t had the time to form many meaningful connections with people (aside two lovely souls who know who they are) in this fandom, and nobody inboxes me or responds to my open starters anyway. plus if they did, i’d probably be too sick or tired to do a thing about it.

mom just spilled perishable stuff all over the kitchen floor trying to get her own food, so now i have to go mop that up even though my sciatica is so bad that i’m sweating. this weekend, i have to somehow find time to get a house cleaner, inventory and remove extra dialysis supplies (32 HEAVY boxes to cover), find and buy a table with very specific parameters to hold a dialysis cycler, etc etc etc). a day in the life.

and you think, “can’t you ask somebody to help?” friend, if you say that, you have never experienced TRUE chronic illness, and how very quickly people you are close to become “too busy” to help when they have to interact with (noncommunicable!) illness, and acknowledge their OWN mortality.

#ooc #chronic illness cw #medical cw #sickness cw #depression cw #mental health cw #please do not reblog

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mystic-sky · 5 years ago

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One shot wherein the s/o of Gojo Satoru gets injured trying to protect him and brought to the hospital but doesnt die. With a mountain of angst pls. 🥺👉🏽👈🏽

Word Count: 1.6k

16-year old Satoru had never known much about compassion, or any crucial emotions that would’ve paved the way for him to be a brilliant jujutsu sorcerer, through and through. He lived life as he went, nonchalant and never dispatching empathy in the moments it mattered most. You appeared like wildfire, ringing out so many emotions from him all at once. You were placed on his team without warning, and he felt like you were just another nuisance for him to have to pretend to worry about. You were undeniably cute though, which was the only reason he ever made conversation with you from time to time. But even though he flirted with you, he was always sure to remind you that he was always better, stronger and more talented.

One day, to his surprise, you gave him a piece of your mind when he tried to pursue you. You told him to learn some manners, some compassion, and to come back when he wasn’t an asshole. You expressed that he was arrogant, and all but so many people would tolerate him the way some teachers and his so called “team mates” did.

“No ones going to fall in love with you for real if you keep being a jerk.”

That was when he first learned of rejection. He was so used to having everything he wanted. It didn’t register in his brain the first time that you didn’t like him. He picked on you more because of it, unfortunately. You were thick skulled, and headstrong. You were charming for someone who started out so weak. He watched as you worked hard, and never asked for help from him or Suguru, or Shoko unless it was for the sake of the mission at hand. You were extremely talented. Just a late bloomer.

He asked you why you became a sorcerer one day, much to your surprise. You explained it to him and from that day on, he wasn't so much of an asshole towards you. He’d learned of admiration, but considering he was so cocky, he never did tell you that. Instead, he went from saying things like “Leave this to us” to “I’ll leave this to you.”

Maybe you do or don’t realize that he finally acknowledges you as strong, but you do know talking to him was 40% more bearable when you reached your third year of high school.

That same year, you lose someone who was close to you. You had no control over it. The way it happened, the result was inevitable. It had nothing to do with weakness or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are some outcomes in life that are meant to happen- and no one is ready for it. All he knows is that he didn’t like how it made you feel. He couldn’t give you a rebuttal on how it was possibly yours or someone else’s shortcomings that fated such a thing to happen. Instead, you both sat on the steps of the school long past curfew, sharing ice cream while he watched you cry. Neither of you spoke. For the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. He also knew he shouldn’t leave you there. He hoped his silence and presence would convey something, along with the free ice cream. This was the night Satoru learned sympathy.

He never wanted you to feel that way ever again. He became a bubbly force, always in your face. He smothered you with activities, sweets, things that became memories to deter you from your loss, and somehow amongst it all, you forgot that you hated him.

Some years had gone by. You'd become a fine jujutsu sorcerer, with the help of Satoru and so many others. You’d acknowledged him as a friend and possibly something more due his flirtatious personality. He had became someone who filled the void of the person you lost, showing you that life does in fact go on.

“It took you way too long to kill that thing,” he rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a special grade jujutsu sorcerer? Get it together (Name).”

He playfully scolded you. “You literally stood there and watched me do all the work.” Your clothes were stained of blood, but you weren’t bothered entirely. You were looking for something to wipe your hands with, shaking them violently at the ground.

“What can I say, you’re truly a site to behold.” He winked, dwindling a handkerchief in front of you. The flutter in your chest was erratic.

“Nonetheless, I knew you could do it. I was just here for moral support.” He grinned, patting you on the head.

“Satoru,” You say, turning towards him and sheathing your weapon. “You’re really important to me. You’ve had my back since we went to Jujutsu Tech and then some. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you for always being there for me.”

“So, thank you.” You say, offering him the warmest smile and making his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t known what to say. You hadn't ever put him on the spot like this before, which is what it made it so easy for him to be around you. You never praised him for anything, yet here you were thanking him, smiling at him like you loved him or something-

Did you? He wondered. He didn’t undertsand what it was he felt when he started to ponder the idea of you loving him. You never once complimented him on his looks, nor had you ever reciprocated his flirtations. And here he was, actively being your friend because he admired your character. He didn’t even know himself anymore.

“Stop staring at me like that and say you’re welcome.” You sass, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re freaking me out.”

“We’re friends. You don’t have to thank me for that.” He said cockily, getting right back in character. That night, he realized what it meant to love someone.

He got home and laid in bed, trying to draw the line in his head between how he loved you and how he loved kikufuku. Then he tried depicting the differences between his bromance with Geto Suguru and his friendship with you. He knew he liked being around you, and whatever goals in life he would eventually pursue- he wanted you to be there too.

You never once made it obvious that you liked him back in any sort of way, and it ticked him off. He would spend some days doing everything in his power to get a reaction out of you, even a kabedon, to which you burst out laughing in response. Satoru had never actually experienced true defeat until that moment. You had became one of the most precious things in the world to him, but he thought you were so dense and oblivious it pained him. He wanted to give up on pursuing you, but no one else in his entire life had ever made him feel anything. All these emotions he discovered were extensions and results of you allowing him to integrate himself into your life during your darkest moment. You had thanked him for being there; he wanted you to say so much more.

So when you leapt in front of him, coughing up blood in his direction and shielding his body, there wasn't a reason he could summon for it. What made him feel sick to his stomach is how you managed to smile whilst being impaled by the horns of the curse behind you. The rough taste of iron plagued your tongue and blood plopped from your lips and down your chin.

He caught your body with one arm, cradling you, before using his free hand to clutch the creature’s skull. He smashed it instantly, blood spattering all around your bodies.

“Why did you do that?” He found himself panicking. He knelt down, stripping himself of his shirt and attempting to suppress the bleeding. “You’re not weak and you’re not stupid- why?!”

“Because, Satoru, I love you.” You say through blurry eyes. He’s petrified. Satoru Gojo did not know loss or grief. He was sure to feel it if you died right there in his arms. He already killed the curse that fatally attacked you. If you died, what would his purpose beyond that be? The only thing he hadn’t done yet was tell you he loved you. He knew in that moment that he loved you. But before the words could fall from his lips, your body went limp in his lap.

“No...” He took hold of you, immediately teleporting to the nearest hospital. If you died, he would blame it on his own incompetence. He’d flaw himself for this moment alone and take responsibility. He found himself praying to whatever God there might be, begging them to spare your short lived life. Not without him saying it back.

After multiple surgeries and blood transfusions, the doctors had informed him you were going to live, but recovery would take some time. Your cursed ability was able to delay the blood loss and neutralize a bit of the damage just before it became entirely fatal. He was thankful, the most he’s ever been for anything.

“I told you, you’re not weak,” he stared down at your comatose body. “You may make stupid decisions. But you’re not helpless.”

His voice cracked a bit whilst saying this, as he knelt beside you. He would stay with you endlessly through your recovery no matter how long it took. Nothing else mattered.

He was going to tell you that he loves you too.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff

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ghostbustermelanieking · 4 years ago

Note

Number 17 (kissing to hide from bad guys) for the fic prompts? Bonus points if it's from one of the earlier seasons (maybe when they're still actively researching statements?) but the choice is entirely yours

so this is set in s3, sometime after 102. (possibly an au... who's to say!!) as such, warning for references to jon's kidnapping in 101, and scenes of people think they might be taken/killed/etc.

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

" Here, " Jon whispers in a panic in Martin's ear, and pulls him abruptly towards a shadowy spot in an alley. Martin goes along immediately, pressing towards the wall while also trying to push himself in front of Jon. Jon's breathing is sharp and frantic, his hand tight where it's clutching at Martin's arm, and the footsteps of their pursuers are still echoing slowly down the street.

This was meant to be a work trip—or whatever passes for that these days. Another attempt to locate the ritual site for the Unknowing. Elias had suggested Jon go, and Martin hadn't wanted him to go alone. That's the last thing Jon needs, after everything, after being held captive for a month… Martin hadn't been willing to risk it, the possibility of Jon being taken again.

It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, Elias had said. Just a simple scouting, it probably wasn't the site in the first place, the Stranger might not even be there, surely the fact that Jon had escaped so easily meant they wouldn't come after him again…

This is clearly not true. They'd been spotted, inside the warehouse where they'd been searching. Martin can remember the moment with a shocking clarity: Jon's sharp intake of breath as he'd reached out to grab Martin's arm, his nails digging frantically into Martin's skin, the slow way Martin had looked up and seen it. Them. Things that looked wrong, inhuman, in a way that Martin can't even describe.

They've come after them. Followed them out of the warehouse, onto the street, and of course no one is around to see them, and Martin knows they should've gone for the rental car, should've immediately gone for the rental car, but they'd taken some wrong turns, frantic to get away from the blank-faced figures (the cheery voice calling for the Archivist and asking about his skin, and Martin is going to throw up). And now they're here, hiding in some alley while these things pretending to be human are searching for them, coming for Jon all over again.

Jon's breathing has gone shaky. He's pulling at Martin's arm like they can get any further into the wall. Martin's got an arm in front of Jon, like they're in a car about to crash, and he's staring out at the alley, waiting for those things to catch up, and he says the first thing he can think of, in a whisper: "I-I won't let them take you again."

Jon's breathing goes tighter somehow. "Martin, you can't… "

"I'm not going to let them take you, Jon!" Martin hisses, his voice pitching too high for a moment. Jon squeezes his arm frantically and he backtracks, quieter: " Sorry, sorry, it's just… I'm not letting that happen to you again!"

"They'd kill you," Jon whispers. "They wouldn't hesitate , Martin, and I am not… I am not losing anyone else!"

The footsteps echo closer; the echoing sing-song-y voice comes again, calling for Jon. Panic slices through Martin like a knife and he presses closer, as if physically shielding Jon will do a damn thing. (Maybe it will. You never know; maybe it will.) "W-we should run for the car," he says. (Although at the moment he has absolutely no idea where they parked it.)

"We'll never make it," Jon murmurs. Martin turns a little in time to see Jon, who's staring off into the distance with wide, haunted eyes. "We need to hide. "

Martin looks back towards the street, at the approaching shadows. "I'll distract them," he says—one last ditch effort to at least get Jon to safety. "A-and you run."

"What? No. Martin." Jon's voice is pressing now; his hand slips from Martin's arm down to Martin's hand, intertwining their fingers. Martin looks back, startled, and finds Jon staring at him nervously. "Martin, do you trust me?" he says, voice wavering.

Martin blinks a few rapid times. "Wh-what?" he says, caught off guard; he holds tighter to Jon's hand, suddenly worried that Jon is going to run out and distract them so Martin won't have to.

Jon exhales frustratedly. "It's just that… I have an idea of how we could hide, and i-it's a little unusual, and stupid, a-and so I wanted your… to make sure you are all right with it first…"

The voice is getting closer. Panic snaps through Martin, and he hisses frantically, "Yes, whatever, it's fine, j-just do it before…"

Jon lets go of Martin's hand and moves, in a flash, to cup the side of his face, both hands, and Martin only has a moment to wonder what the hell is going on before Jon rises on tiptoes, pulls Martin down a bit, and kisses him.

Martin's brain shorts out for a moment—stuck between the marvel of him kissing Jon, Jon kissing him—and the panic of the fact that they're being chased by mannequin-things that will probably skin them. He makes a muffled, startled sound into Jon's mouth. Jon's hands are trembling on his face.

Then the pieces start to slide together—Jon's doing that movie bit, where you kiss to hide from the bad guys. Quite possibly ridiculous, but it's something, something more than one of them being bait. (And to be entirely ridiculous for a moment… if they're both about to die, Martin's glad he's gotten to kiss Jon before he's done it.) So Martin plays along. He leans down and turns them a bit, so Jon's in the corner between the Dumpster and the wall, and his back is blocking the both of them from view; he'll look more inconspicuous than Jon will.

And then he kisses Jon back. Tentatively, at first (just because you kiss someone to hide from monsters or whatever doesn't mean you actually want to kiss them), and then a little deeper. The way he's wanted to kiss Jon this whole time, as long as he's ever thought about it. He brings a hand to Jon's face, too, thinking to hide it from the Stranger. Pushes a little bit of hair behind Jon's ear. Jon leans into the touch; his right thumb moves, slowly, over Martin's cheek, and Martin has to hold back something that might be a sob. He leans closer, their foreheads almost touching, trying to focus on the fact that there are things trying to kill them, and not just on the fast that he is kissing Jon…

Jon breaks away abruptly. Pulls back just far enough that their mouths aren't touching anymore—his hands still on Martin's face—and says, "I… Martin, I-I think they're gone now." He is breathing hard, his eyes darting over Martin's shoulder and then back.

Martin is probably breathing hard too. He is drawing a blank; his hand is still in Jon's hair. "They're… they're gone?" he says, still in a whisper. His voice is shaking, he thinks.

"Yes… yes, they're gone now." Jon looks right at him, his dark eyes huge in the dim light of the alley. "Martin… Martin, I am so… "

"Car," says Martin. It is the first word he comes up with—they need to go, there are still things trying to kill them, and they can't just stand around talking when… He grabs Jon's hand where it's lowering, somewhere around his neck, and squeezes urgently. "Jon, car, we need to go… "

" Christ, I forgot, I…" Jon shakes his head hard and moves with Martin towards the opposite end of the alley. He doesn't let go of Martin's hand, all the way to the car, where they've left it two blocks away. Martin climbs immediately in the driver's seat, and turns the key, and drives off without hesitation, too fast to even buckle his seatbelt.

There is silence in the car for a moment, as they drive away. Martin grips the wheel hard and stares straight out of the front window, unsure of what the hell to say. (Unsure whether to say Thank you for coming up with a plan to save our lives, or You just kissed me in an alley, maybe we should talk about this? or I've been in love with you for about a year now, and I guess you beat me to the punch, except I don't know if you actually MEANT it. ) But in the end, it's Jon who breaks the silence—to say, in a tight, rigid voice, "Martin, I am so sorry."

Martin's hands actually tighten around the wheel somehow. "Wh-what?" he says, uncertain. "What do you mean… Jon, you saved us."

"Th-that was entirely unprofessional, I… I shouldn't have kissed you like that, I just… I-I was afraid they'd find us, and it was all I could think of, and I just…" Jon's blushing. Martin can see it out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Martin takes a shaky breath. He must be blushing, too, he thinks; his face and neck feel like they're on fire. He says, "You don't have to be sorry," just as Jon says, "I-I didn't want to go back." Martin's mouth shuts like a trap as Jon keeps talking: "I… if I went back, I think they would have… and I didn't want… and I thought if they took you… th-they would've killed you, Martin, and I wouldn't… I didn't…"

"It's okay , Jon," Martin blurts, and as soon as he says it, he finds he means it. "It is. I… I was scared, too."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought you, Martin, I should've left you at home…"

"Did you forget the part where I insisted on coming?" Martin laughs a little. "I… I'm glad you weren't here alone, Jon. I didn't want them to take you again. I…" He swallows hard, stares out at the road in front of him. One of his hands falls away from the wheel, towards the center console. "Please don't say you wish I hadn't been here. Please."

Jon's quiet for a moment. The only sound is the tires chewing up the road beneath them, before he finally says, "Still. I-I never should have kissed you, Martin. I am so… "

"Jon, you don't… y-you don't need to apologize, okay? You don't, " says Martin. "It's okay, it's fine, it was… I-I didn't mind, all right? You don't need to apologize."

"I… I should have clarified. I didn't really ask before I…"

" Jon. Please, it's okay. " Martin reaches for something else to say, and all he can come up with is: "I have had much worse kisses, okay? Much worse."

Jon laughs, a laugh sharp with surprise. After a moment, Martin laughs, too. This whole night has been so absurd. They were chased by some mannequins or whatever, they had to run for their lives, and Jon kissed him, and he kissed Jon, and they're alive. It's pretty hilarious, if you think about it for more than five minutes. It's about as absurd as anything else they've been through in the past year. He'd take this all over being trapped by worms.

"I… I have, too, actually," says Jon, finally, after they've stopped laughing. " Much worse. You're not…" He stops, makes a strangled noise like he's embarrassed or something, before going on. "Th-thank you, Martin. Really."

Martin chews at his lower lip. "Thank you, " he says. "For… for getting us out of there."

Jon takes a shaky breath. His fingers brush over Martin's free hand, where it's resting over the center console; Martin tenses all over, automatically, but Jon doesn't take it. Just brushes his fingers there. Martin thinks of Jon's expression before he leaned up to kiss him, Jon's fingers against his cheeks.

"I… I should've left you at home," Jon says, almost reluctantly. "But I'm… glad you came with me, Martin. I'm glad you're with me."

Martin swallows hard. Bites back a small smile. He'd meant it, when he kissed Jon back; he wishes he could tell Jon he meant it. (He could, he supposes. Nothing stopping him. He wonders what Jon would say back.)

But what he says is, "I am, too," because it's a sort of a confession, and he means it, too, as much as the kiss. Even with the almost dying, with all of it, he's glad, somehow, he was here.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jon smile, just a little. Martin smiles, too.

#i sort of envisioned this taking place in the au where jon stays w martin in 102. but whos to say!!!#tma fic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #i wrote this

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toointofiction · 4 years ago

Text

Cardan's Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Jude x Cardan

Genre: Romance

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Jude has been gone all morning. Cardan wonders where she could be and what she could possibly be doing when he walks into their bedroom only to find Jude there waiting for him with a really fun surprise. It appears he forgot it’s his birthday.

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Or read it below

Cardan is walking back to his room, his guards trailing behind him, after a particularly long and dull meeting with the Living Council. This time it felt like they just refused to let him go. It didn’t help that Jude, inexplicably, did not show up for the meeting. This seemed highly unusual given that she is the most responsible out of the two of them. And this is not all. She was also out of bed before Cardan woke up this morning. No one seemed too concerned about it, which only made things more suspicious. In fact, upon asking the guards for his wife’s whereabouts, this morning, they were being suspiciously vague in their responses with a lushed, almost uncomfortable look on their faces. Like they were hiding something. He did not think much of it at the time but now he was starting to worry. Could she mean to put herself in danger again? Putting everyone under oath not to tell him anything certain that he would try to stop her? He found this to be entirely too possible.

Trying to stop himself from panicking prematurely, he reaches his bedroom door and pushes it open only for his eyes to practically jump out of his skull at what he beholds. Jude sitting up in bed with a wicked grin on her face and a mischievous glint in her eyes, wearing the craziest dress Cardan has ever seen. A long silky black skirt that stopped at her ankles with a wide split on the left side right above her hip revealing her long muscled leg. Its bodice, also black, was skin-tight, like a corset and delightfully diaphanous bushing her breasts up in a way that caused Cardan’s skin to tighten.

After a minute or so Cardan finds his voice. “What is this?” he asks hoarsely.

“Happy Birthday,” she says in a low, seductive voice. Still grinning like a cat that cornered its prey.

He completely forgot what day it is today. But Jude apparently didn’t. “Is this why you were absent since this morning?” he asks with disbelieve and awe clear on his face.

“Well, one of the reasons,” she reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a brown paper bag that Cardan didn’t even notice and holds it out in front of him. “Here.”

Cardan takes the bag. “I know it doesn’t look like a present in the paper bag, but I promise you’ll love what’s inside.” And sure enough, Cardan opens the bag, reaches inside, and pulls out a handful of candy, and based on how heavy the bag was, there are still a lot more inside. This is the same candy he tried while visiting Vivi in the mortal world with Jude a few months ago. Cardan remembers the fervour with which he ate them, relishing their sweet and sour flavour. He had never tried anything this deliciously sweet before and he was actually looking forward to having them again.

It occurred to him then, that he never told Jude about his newfound love for mortal sweets and didn’t know how she could have known to get him some for his birthday. He asked her about it.

“What,” she asked, coyly. “Did you really think I hadn’t noticed you devouring Oak’s candy like a starving man last time we visited them?”

He smiles softly, feeling a warmth rise in his chest at how well she knows him. At how often she watches him without him realising. At how lucky he is that she loves him so much.

“So,” Jude’s voice brings him back from his musings. “Which present do you want to open first?”

At that Cardan’s smile turns feral, he put the candy back in the bag, drops it by the bed, and climbs on top of his wife. “Do you even have to ask?”

He bends down and kisses her deep and long. He feels her arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer to her as he blindly reaches one hand for the straps in the middle of her dress’s bodice, pulling them undone, while the other is on her thigh slowly inching up to her hip. Higher. He notices then that she is, in fact, not wearing any underwear and feels a deep growl comes from his throat. “You are a menace.” Jude chuckles at that and bites his lower lip suggestively.

Cardan moves from Jude’s mouth to her neck, kissing lower and lower as he reaches the parted bodice of her now loosened dress. Then he pauses for a short moment to pull the dress down and off of her, sliding it down her supple legs as she unbuckles his breeches, pushing them down until he takes them off himself. His shirt follows soon after. They stay still for a moment, looking at each other, wide grins on their faces, panting slightly. Cardan’s tail wraps itself around her calf. We haven’t even started, yet.He feels a surge of wicked delight at that thought only for his mind to go completely blank as he feels Jude’s hand moving between his thighs and caging him in her palm, giving him a slight squeeze.

To retaliate Cardan bends over one breast and takes her nipple into his mouth. He sucks and bites until he hears Jude moan softly, feeling the hand that grips him squeeze a little tighter and move up and down at a slow, agonizing pace. Her other hand, then, tangles in his hair, pulling at his roots hard and urging him for more. Cardan is more than happy to comply, switching from one breast to the other while using one hand to pinch and pull the nipple he just abandoned and the other to slip between her thighs, find her clit with his fingers and coax louder moans out of her.

He, then, slips two fingers inside her, feeling her clench and unclench around him, pumping in and out of her until she arches her back into him, gasping his name over and over. “Cardan. Cardan. Cardan.” He uses his thumb to rub her clit, forcing her to clench her thighs around his hand as she lets out a loud moan, tightening her fist in his curls and coming on his fingers.

Cardan lifts his head from her breasts, shoots her a wicked smile as he begins a descent down her body only to be stopped by Jude gripping both his shoulders hard. He looks at her in confusion but before he can say anything Jude wraps her legs around his waist and twists them so she’s on top of him. She smiles at him again and Cardan feels like he could die looking at her. Before he realises what’s happening, Jude has both his arms trenched above his head and is tying him up on the bed’s headboard with a silk rope. Once she is done tying him up, she looks down at him with that same wicked grin she had when he walked into their room and says, “Happy Birthday” in a low, sensual voice. Cardan’s eyes follow her as she starts kissing him down his chest and across his abdomen until she reaches his cock, taking him in one hand, pumping him once, kissing his tip. And then she looks him in the eye as she slowly, inch by inch, takes him in her mouth. The sensation, the sight. It’s all too much to take. He has to shut his eyes tight, lean his head back in sweet agony while biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Jude continues to torture him delightfully, with her warm mouth tense around his cock, the scraping of her teeth on his soft skin, the swiftness of her tongue driving him crazy. “Jude. Oh fuck. Jude.” He doesn’t last long. He comes hard and fast spilling into her mouth and down her throat. She takes it all. Never breaking eye contact. Once she’s finished with him, she licks his length slowly up to his tip, gives him another kiss, and moves up to kiss him hard on the mouth.

“How are you liking your present, baby?” All he can muster for an answer is a pathetic grunt that sounds more like a purr. She chuckles, leaving feather-light kisses on the side of his neck, under his ear. She whispers, “Want me to keep going?” There’s a shiver crawling down his spine at her voice, at what she’s asking him. He barely gets out a “Yes”. She kisses him once more, hard on the mouth, and moves to straddle him. “Good.”

She grabs his shaft once more, lining him up to her entrance, and pushes him into her slowly. Torturously. They both moan loudly at the sensation. He will never get sick of this, he realises. Never get sick of her. Every moment with her feels like an unbelievable dream. Like he’s somehow mortal, under gees. She slowly picks up the pace. Going faster and faster the closer she gets to climax. Cardan can do nothing but watch as she guides a hand downwards and starts rubbing herself. The other goes to her beast, catching her nipple between her index finger and thumb. The sight is too much. He tugs unconsciously at the robe, forgetting momentarily that he’s still tied to the headboard, thinking he could touch her himself. She rides him faster and harder, the room fills with their groaning, grunting, moaning. Until Jude abruptly stops, throws her head back, and lets out a long, loud moan that sends Cardan over the edge, breathes out Jude’s name as she falls limp on top of him.

Several moments pass as they both try to catch their breath. Jude finally reaches out and unties him. He wraps his arms around her almost immediately and asks, “Should we have some candy?”

#my fanfic writing #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #cardans birthday surprise #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #holly black #toointofanfiction

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alj4890 · 4 years ago

Note

I got an ask we know Riley gets kidnapped by Anton but what if Anton was in love with her and he didn’t wanna kill her but makes her his. What if Olivia killed Claudus for shooting drake.

I love the way you think, Nonny! I actually would have eaten this up with a spoon if that had happened in canon. To be honest, I really liked Justin in book 2. If he had been a new love interest, I would have done a play through just to see what happens if Riley chose him 🤦🏻 Of course then we find out he is behind all the bombings and such so...oops, LOL. When I first saw your request, I made an aesthetic with just Justin/Anton and Riley in mind. I completely forgot to add a definite OTP of mine, Drake and Olivia, to it. Smh. The story though will definitely include them along with Riley and Justin. I am so tempted to turn this into a series 🙊

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

Masterlist

True Intentions

It had happened when he had not been paying attention. It shouldn't have happened at all. He had one goal. One mission. Nothing had ever come to mean more to him than that. Nothing. No one.

Until Riley.

He knew he shouldn't have spent so much time with her. He shouldn't have helped Maxwell in picking the right dresses for her. He shouldn't have stuck around to see her come out of dressing rooms, an excited smile upon her face, as she twirled around for them to give their opinions.

It had taken all his will power to keep from telling her what he truly thought. Riley's beauty was simply stunning, not because of her outer loveliness, but more that he saw her inner beauty shining through each trial she faced. Her strength amazed him. Her wit brought a smile to his face. Her kindness touched his heart.

It made him begin to long for things he shouldn't. They shouldn't be a part of any dream or plan he had.

And yet...she was beginning to crop up in his thoughts. In his dreams.

In his plans.

He winced as he tried to get comfortable.

His plans hadn't exactly gone as he had hoped. In fact, he should have talked to his men and explained that Riley was not to be a target.

Thank God for Drake. If he hadn't jumped in front of her, she would have been taken from me.

His lips twisted in another painful grimace.

"Are you in pain?"

Justin looked up and tried to smile. "Just a little."

His nurse shook her head. "I told you to buzz before it got too bad." She gently checked his wound.

"I don't want to be a bother." He mumbled.

"You aren't." She patted his hand. "You aren't any trouble at all." Her nose wrinkled. "We had a few nobles cause unnecessary problems when the attack happened."

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Some were knocked down during the chaos and demanded they be admitted."

He chuckled softly. "Sounds like something they would do."

"It's a shame that good people like you were seriously hurt while those spoiled nobles try and take all the attention." She readjusted his covers after administering some more pain medication in his IV. "I don't know why King Liam is so hellbent on bringing them back to court."

"What do you mean?" Justin tried to fight the effects of the pain medicine. "What's he doing?"

"He and Lady Riley are going on some type of tour to some of the major houses to personally invite them to their wedding."

His brow furrowed.

A unity tour. That would work on these small minded individuals. It was a smart move. The public were already Team Riam. Once the royal couple convinced the most powerful houses to come to their wedding, all the other minor lords and ladies would follow suit.

"Well played, Liam." Justin's eyes drooped closed. "Well played."

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

He couldn't believe that they not only convinced Madeleine's entire family, but also somehow got all of Portavira on their side.

"What's the plan?" Claudius asked.

"We need something big to remind everyone that we aren't a one trick pony." Justin told him.

He looked out the window. Leaves were beginning to change with the first hints of autumn in the air.

A hint of a smile appeared as a plan began to form.

"It would be a shame if Cordonia's apple orchard had a bad year, wouldn't it?" He eyed his second in command.

Claudius chuckled. "It really would."

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

Justin watched as every channel showed the devastation of the orchard near Applewood. He couldn't help but smile over Riley making the people love her even more for her righteous anger. Her promises to bring those responsible to justice along with making the orchard bigger than before made him nearly burst with pride.

She had grown into her role more so than he had ever imagined. Gone was the timid young waitress from New York who uttered no comment when reporters surrounded her. She was a confident woman now who could think on her feet.

Justin thought she was more attractive than the first time he had seen her floundering in front of the cameras, in desperate need of a hero. It hadn't been a bother to rush to her side then and put his arm around her. Her wide eyes had lifted to his and he had nearly melted from her beauty.

He still couldn't believe that she forgave Liam for choosing another over her. Granted Madeleine impressed him with how she could manipulate reporters into spinning a story to her advantage, but Riley was so many things that the cold countess was not. She deserved better than what she got.

And he planned on giving it to her.

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

A week after the orchard burning, he turned to see the one rarely far from his thoughts.

"Justin!" Riley rushed over to engulf him in a hug.

"How's my favorite media darling?" He asked.

She leaned back and gave him that smile that was brighter than flash bulbs. "Much better now that I know you're recovering." She playfully glanced about before whispering, "Save me from Madeleine!"

He laughed as he hugged her once more. "I don't know. I've seen her work and can't find fault with it."

Riley pouted. She linked her arm with his as they walked down the hospital hallway. "I prefer your guidance to hers." Her nose wrinkled. "It's weird being told how to act by Liam's former fiancée. I know there wasn't anything between them, but still."

Justin patted her hand. "Tell you what. If Madeleine is unable to do her job or you decide to fire her, then I will gladly step back into my old position." He dug around in his pocket for the earpiece she had used during Liam's engagement tour.

Her smile reappeared. "Old faithful."

"I'm always Just-in-time." He teased.

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

It had been too close. He hadn't expected Riley to go anywhere near Constantine. And there she was, by Liam's side, graciously accepting some necklace from the old man who had destroyed her initial happily ever after.

His heart had nearly stopped as he watched rubble fall around them. Riley had frozen in fear over Liam's safety. It was a nightmare come to life as pieces of the wall and ceiling began to collapse.

At least one good thing had come from this: one king was dead.

It sadly wasn't the king he needed to die.

Justin began to plan how he would comfort Riley once Liam was gone. He wouldn't have to tell her it was he, himself, who orchestrated his death. But he would make certain to enjoy the benefits of it.

His eyes narrowed over another slight problem he had.

He was going to have to kill his own wife too.

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

Lythikos...

It had been almost too easy. Madeleine was already in need of a distraction after hearing Liam gush over how excited he was to marry Riley in a few weeks. Once she requested a fruity cocktail, he knew then that the poison could go undetected taste wise.

The bartender left to go replenish the champagne. Madeleine's irritation over having to wait on a refill was drawing attention.

"Here." He grinned at her. "Allow me to make you another."

Her eyes widened. "Aren't you that press secretary that helped Riley?"

"I am." He began to mix a strong cocktail for her while adding the poison, all right under her nose. "And I must say you are the best I've ever seen."

Madeleine's irritation disappeared over the compliment. "I am, aren't I?"

"Riley's lucky to have someone so knowledgeable in ways of both the court and public like you." He added.

"Yes, she is." Madeleine muttered. "I'll do anything for my country, even if it is a thankless job."

"You should be recognized for your sacrifice." Justin handed her the deadly drink.

"Yes, I should." She took a gulp.

"How is it?" He asked.

"It's the only good thing here." A tipsy grin appeared on her face when she saw Riley. She grasped Justin's hand and pulled him in her wake. "Let's go say, hi."

"Boooooo!" Madeleine giggled when Riley turned around. "It's the ghosts of press secretary past and present."

"The what now?" Riley lips trembled with suppressed laughter as she looked up at Justin for clarification.

"I'm the ghost of press secretary past." He winked at her.

"OoooOooo!" Madeleine swayed where she stood.

"Whoa, there." Riley tried to steady her. "You okay?"

"She's had a little too much." Justin mimed drinking.

"It's a party!" Madeleine slurred. "It's in the worst place ever but it's a party and I'm going to...going to..."

"Enjoy it?" Riley offered.

"Extractly!" Madeleine's brow wrinkled over that not being the right word. "Expactly?"

"Exactly." Justin corrected.

"That."

The crowd quieted around them when Olivia took the stage to offer a final toast of the evening to Liam and Riley's wedding.

"Woo!" Madeleine cheered.

Riley and Justin tried to shush her.

Her giddy smile fell as her rosy cheeks drained of color. "Somefing's not..."

"Madeleine?" Riley lost her grip on her when she swayed violently to the right. "What's--"

Madeleine hit a table, causing the plates to clatter and the vase of blood red roses to fall over.

"I hate this place." She collapsed on the floor.

"Madeleine!" Riley dropped to her knees and tried to bring her to. "Liam! Mara! Come quick!"

Justin stepped back as the two came to see what was wrong. He watched as Olivia made her way through the crowd to find out what the all the fuss was about.

"What's wrong with her?" Riley asked.

"She's been poisoned." Mara whispered.

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

Justin loved seeing the delighted surprise once more on Riley's face when he said he would take over Madeleine's duties for the rest of the tour. It would have been a perfect moment if Liam had not been standing there. He was ashamed to think of his nearly giving himself away when he panicked at the sight of Olivia walking in behind him.

He wished Lucretia would quit trying to push Olivia into going into the family vault. She had a sick sense of humor in wanting her niece to discover she was already married. For some reason, she did not approve of the way her niece depended on her friends for support.

Justin knew the power friends could have. Had he not been trained by his own parents' friends, he wouldn't be the worthy man next in line to the throne. His comradery with his own men inspired their loyalty and willingness to die to make him king.

He needed to distance himself from Lucretia the moment they got out of Lythikos.

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

She was supposed to come alone! Why did she bring Riley? I can't kill her. I need her. I deserve to have a choice in the one I want ruling by my side. The people already adore her, much more so than they admire Olivia. I was supposed to become free of this marriage. Once she and Liam are dead, I'll be able to be king and have--

"Justin?" Riley's eyes were clouded with confusion as she looked first at a picture of him dressed in a royal uniform. "What is this?"

"I'm sorry, Riley." His voice cracked on her name.

Justin reached in his pocket and pulled out a revolver.

Lucretia cackled with glee as she told her niece the truth about her marriage.

Justin stood there silently as the woman he loved shook her head in denial.

She's so incredibly sweet to doubt a friend could be the bad guy. I hate that I can't pull her away from all this and simply explain why I should be the ruler of Cordonia. I deserve it. I worked for it. My entire life was made for me to take the crown. She would be able to understand that. Look how far she's come in her own life. Who could imagine a waitress from some dive bar in America would come to be the next queen of a small European nation?

"Do it already!" Lucretia hissed. "Shoot her!"

He couldn't do it. Even as he held the gun steady, pointed directly at the woman he loved's heart, he couldn't shoot Riley.

"Get away from her!" Liam ordered.

Justin spun around to see the king and guards filling up the narrow passageway.

"I thought you said this was secure." Justin snapped at Lucretia.

"It was." She held her hands up in surrender.

Justin watched as she stepped forward, pretending to stumble.

His eyes widened as once again his love was trapped within a collapsing room.

He managed to see her safely end up in Liam's arms before escaping through a hidden passage.

He left Lucretia to the guards. She had served her purpose and was sadly of no use to him any longer. Now he could plan what he truly wanted to happen.

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

Liam and Riley's wedding day...

"I don't care who you kill. Olivia and Riley are to be taken alive." Justin told the small team of men he was sending in. "If you have to wound them to get them here, make certain Riley's is non life threatening.

He ignored the questioning look Claudius sent his way.

"Bring them both to our stronghold." His eyes narrowed. "Do not fail me."

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

Later that night...

"Good work." Justin straightened his jacket. He wanted to look his best when he saw Riley again.

Claudius smirked at him. "Just think of all the men we would still have if you had let me go alone."

Justin chuckled. "True, but at least we are free of our weakest links." He smoothed his hair back. "Now take me to our guests."

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

"I know the real Justin is somewhere in there." Riley leaned as far forward as her bindings allowed. "You helped me gain the love of the people. You know that if you kill me, the people will not readily accept you as king."

He couldn't help but smile. "I know and that is why I don't intend to hurt you."

"Then why kidnap us?" Olivia demanded.

He turned toward her. "If I'm to be king, then I have to take the necessary steps to claim the throne." He motioned for Claudius to come in.

"You're the one who shot Drake!" Olivia shouted, struggling against the ropes biting into her tender skin. "You'll regret that."

"And you tried to kill me!" Riley added, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a mistake." Justin quickly said. "You were never to be harmed."

"Then why all the attempts?" She asked. "Why do you persist in--"

"You weren't supposed to be here, Riley." He knelt down in front of her. "You should have stayed in New York until the time was right"

Her eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking about.

Justin asked Claudius to remain with Olivia while he took Riley somewhere private.

"If you think for one second that I will remain with this man while you take her away go do only God knows what," Olivia's chair creaked at her straining to break free, "then you don't know what a Nevarkis is truly made of!"

Justine rolled his eyes over her rant as he untied Riley from her chair. He kept her ankles and wrists bound together. He swept her into his arms and carried her out.

Olivia's shouts were silenced by the sound of a hard slap.

Riley struggled in Justin's arms. "What did he do to her? OLIVIA?!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Justin, please don't--"

"Nothing's happened to her." He took her into a surprisingly clean, yet drab, sitting room.

Riley was dropped on a chaise lounge. She eyed the door then Justin.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated. He gently cupped her cheek, fingers brushing along her jaw line. "I love you too much to ever harm you."

Riley stilled. She looked up at him. "You what?"

He knelt before her. "I'm in love with you. It didn't hit me until you told me you had accepted Liam's proposal on the train. I didn't plan it, but I refuse to hide my feelings any longer." He smiled at her. "You've proven yourself as the rightful Queen of Cordonia. Once Liam and Olivia are dead, you and I can rule this country as we see fit. We'll--"

Riley shook her head. "Justin," she believed he was deranged and knew she had to handle this carefully, "I'm flattered. Really I am. I mean, we both know I would never have gotten this far without you."

His smile grew at her realizing she owed him for her meteoric rise within the court.

"But if you kill Liam and Olivia, the people will not feel any love or loyalty for you." She tilted her head as she studied him. "Surely you see the problem with this plan."

"People respect power." He explained. "They respect someone who fights for what is rightfully his. Since my birth, I have been meant for something greater. My parents, Olivia's family, even my soldiers realized that I alone am worthy to rule over this country." He focused once more upon her. "And I've seen that you are the one to do so by my side."

Riley shook her head. "Justin, I am honored," her voice cracked on that lie, "to have your love but I can't accept it." Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm in love with Liam."

"Riley, he didn't choose you." Justin argued. "He left you on your own to fight against nobles, the press, even his own father. You deserve so much more than being an afterthought."

Tears slipped down her cheeks once more. "That wasn't what he did. He was trying to protect me. And I--"

He leaned down and kissed her.

She froze at the touch, refusing to participate.

"Once Liam's gone, you will see the truth." Justin promised.

"I won't." Her eyes narrowed. "As long as I live, I'll hate you with everything within me for taking him from me."

"You don't have it in you." He shook his head in amusement. "You've forgiven everyone. Olivia, Penelope, Madeleine, even Constantine. You never hold a grudge."

"You'll be my first." Riley vowed. "Liam is the love of my life. If you ruin my chance to finally be with him, I will never forgive you. As long as there is breath in my body, I will find a way to destroy you."

"You are amazing." He murmured, knowing she was speaking from her heart. He couldn't wait for that devotion to be for himself.

"Anton?"

The two turned to see Claudius in the doorway. "Liam should be here any moment."

Justin nodded and told him he would meet him and the rest of the men downstairs.

He lifted Riley in his arms and placed her back in the cell with Olivia.

His wife had the bruised imprint of Claudius's hand on her alabaster cheek. Blood had dried on her bottom lip. No tears had fallen from the force of the hit. Her left eye was bloodshot as she glared up at him.

"Liv?" Riley choked out. "Are you--"

"I'm fine." Her harsh answer echoed in the chamber. "It will take more than some two bit thug to hurt me." Her eyes did a quick scan to make certain Riley wasn't hurt.

"If you will excuse me, I have to go prepare for Liam's last night on earth." He retied Riley to her chair.

She threw her head back with all her might to connect with his face.

His glasses broke from the force of her strike. Blood poured out his nose as he stumbled away from her.

"Don't ever," his voice dropped to a hiss, "do that again, my love." He gripped her chin and jerked her face up toward his. "You will learn how to behave soon enough."

He slammed the cell door and left them alone.

"Did he hurt you?" Olivia whispered.

"No." Riley bit her bottom lip. "Not yet."

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

"Where is my wife?" Liam demanded.

Justin couldn't help but be impressed. The young king was standing before him, completely outnumbered, yet didn't show the slightest flicker of fear.

He asked the one question that he himself would have asked if Riley was taken from him.

"She is well." Justin replied. "Which is something I can't promise about your own well being."

"I want to see her." Liam bit out. "Now!"

Justin's chuckle was interrupted by a hastily whispered message from Claudius. His head jerked around to search the dim hallway as if doing so would reveal the missing prisoners.

How had they escaped?

"You don't get to make demands here." He snapped at Liam.

"Let Riley and Olivia go." Liam ordered. "And I will take their place." His eyes narrowed. "I know it is a temporary one."

Justin couldn't help but smile. The man was indeed brave to trade his life for Riley and Olivia's.

"No!" Riley screamed out from the stairs.

Chaos broke out as she led the charge to attack the Sons of the Earth. Justin watched as she ran over to protect Liam's back.

The couple were doing their utmost to protect the other from harm.

Their friends were taking his well trained soldiers out one by one. It was embarrassing to see how pitiful his men fought.

Olivia moved into his line of sight. Fury blazed across her delicate features.

"I'm impressed." He told her, unsheathing his sword. "I should have searched you myself."

"Trust me." Olivia circled him. "It will be the last mistake you'll ever make!"

She lunged at him. He easily parried her attack. "I think you've forgotten that it was your parents who gave me the same training you had."

"I think you talk too much!" She twirled about, bringing her daggers up to stop his sword from meeting her shoulder. He grunted from her heel piercing his leg as she pushed off to break his hold.

They continued to try and deliver punishing blows to the other. She was desperate to kill the man who was after her friends and country. He was anxious to be free of their marriage.

He noticed from the corner of his eye Claudius and Drake fighting. His second in command stunned the commoner with an uppercut to his jaw, causing Drake to stumble back into a wall.

Olivia heard the scuffle and followed Justin's line of sight. Her face paled at Claudius moving towards Drake to end him once and for all.

With a flick of her wrists she not only slashed Justin but threw her other dagger at Claudius. It struck true along the side of his neck, cutting into his jugular. He let out a garbled scream as he fell to the floor.

Justin hissed at the deep gash she had made along his ribcage.

Seeing that it was a lost battle, he hopped the banister and began to rush upstairs. He would have to go into hiding once more before orchestrating another attack.

"This ends now!" Riley yelled out at him.

He spun around to see both her and Liam rushing toward him. He raised his sword, determined to put an end to the man who stood between him and the throne. He hesitated when Riley jumped in front of her husband.

"You're not taking him from me!" She raised her battle ax. "Every time you try, I will stop you."

Does Liam know how lucky he is? She waited on him to choose her. Twice! And now she stands here, ready to defend him to the death. How could any man not fall in love with Riley?

His refusal to fight her was his downfall. He was pushed over the banister by the royal couple. While his breath was knocked out, Maxwell and Hana bound his hands together behind his back.

He looked about at his fallen and captured comrades. His attention was drawn toward Olivia and Drake. The pair were covered in blood and bruises, yet they were leaning against each other. Drake had his arm around her while softly speaking. Whatever was said caused Olivia to press even closer to his side. Her arms slipped around his waist. Her eyes were closed tight as she allowed him to hold her.

Justin had suspected something more between the pair. It looked like his coup for the throne had accomplished something for them.

Bastien and the rest of the King's Guards rushed in. After talking to the king and new queen, he collected Justin and hauled him outside.

On the way, Justin met Riley's eyes.

There were so many things he wanted to explain to her. He believed she would have been on board with his plans for the kingdom. Once he had killed Liam and Olivia, he would be the benevolent king the country needed. Gone would be the purpose for pompous nobles. He would have established a council of Cordonia's citizens from all walks of life to advise him. People would be rewarded and honored for their service instead of simply being born to the right parents.

And she would have been his queen, guiding and protecting all she deemed worthy.

"Riley, I..."

"You will never ever hurt those I love again." She hissed.

"Take him away." Liam ordered, keeping his arms locked around his wife. "He will be dealt with in the morning."

Justin knew then that it was pointless to try and explain. She would never give him a chance after all that had occurred.

For the first time in his life, he realized that his intentions didn't matter to the one he loved most.

#the royal romance #trr #choices #trr liam #liam x riley #drake x olivia #justin x riley #choices the royal romance

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maxdark158 · 4 years ago

Text

Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

#daminette #maribat #Marinette #Damian Wayne #maridami #damimari #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #miraculous ladybug #batman #batboys #batbrothers

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yolki-palki · 3 years ago

Note

For the ask game my friend: How Deep the Water and Memento Mori. Also, even though I'm 99% sure I misunderstood what you meant by the drawings: Illustration_120

How Deep the Water

How Deep The Water is the WIP of the sequel to Sloom which grapples with recovery both of physical and psychological kind. It addresses a lot of Geralt's trauma. If you haven't read Sloom I won't spoil it for you here. But here is a snip from How Deep The Water, titled after the song Deep the Water by Lewis Watson.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Geralt snapped, practically growling.

"Right." Jaskier nodded solemnly. "Wanna try that again? The truth this time."

Geralt couldn't seem to form the words, his thoughts suddenly tangling up in a knotted mess twisting tighter and tighter around his lungs.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jaskier took another step closer, careful to avoid the shards of ceramic scattered across the tile.

"Nothing to talk about." Geralt wished Jaskier would shout and scream. Wished that he would strike him. He'd give anything to feel anything but this.

"We both know that's not true." Jaskier reached for him but Geralt pulled away as if the gentle touch would burn.

"Fuck off, Jas — I'm fine."

The look Jaskier gave him sparked a rage that made Geralt want to put his fist through the small single pane window above the sink.

"Fuck off." It was a warning, the best Geralt could manage to grind out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, because you always screech at me to fuck off when you're fine." Jaskier tried to raise his voice to match Geralt's but it broke and with it something inside of Geralt's chest gave way.

"Talking about it won't change what happened." He was screaming now, shredding his voice and hearing it crack in his throat and he couldn't seem to stop it. "Talking won't change the fact that I wasn't there, that I left you alone, that you almost died — I almost let you die.”

(idk why the formatting looks all fucky-wucky but oh well)

Memento Mori

Memento Mori is another in the series of cat!Jaskier fuckery fics in my WIP folder.

(Fun fact, the entirety of Memento Mori found its way into a document other than the one it was written in somehow, and in the process I found a very strange bit I began writing one night about a modern AU that I completely forgot about where Jaskier is bemoaning his not-quite-break-up with his definitely-not-BF when he got left at a truckstop in the middle off buttfuck nowhere to his buddy Lambert lol)

“I seem to recall you claiming that you came after me? Or was that a lie like everything else you’ve said?”

“I’ve never lied to you, Geralt and it wounds me that you would accuse me of such.” Jaskier’s voice trembled and Geralt rolled his eyes, feeling an odd sense of embarrassment at simply being in the presence of Jaskier’s performance to the empty graveyard. “But since you asked so very sweetly, I shall tell you.”

Jaskier paused, lifting his head from where it was cradled in the marble lap of another angel, billowing robes carved into the white stone, his leg swinging lazily back and forth like the tail of a cat. “Now that? That was a lie. You didn’t ask sweetly at all, you’re being a bit of a prick about it to be perfectly honest. I have, much to your explicit good fortune, reneged on that contract. I’d say it’s nothing personal, but we both know that’s a lie.”

“Dangerous.” Geralt hummed.

“Oh, quite. But I do like a challenge and would gladly pit myself against Queen Calanthe’s army any given day.” He emphasized the last three words with three loud and unrefined whacks as his boot hit the base of the statue.

“Calanthe, hmm?”

Fuck. That was bad news, very bad news.

“Oh my! Did I say Queen Calanthe, the Lionness of Cintra? Well, damn my careless tongue.” Jaskier held his hand to his mouth, lips forming a pretty little ‘o’ in feign surprise.

“Hmm, one incredibly unstable Cat against the whole of the Cintran armed forces? What could possibly go wrong.”

“Ha!” Jaskier waved the hypothetical away with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “If that impudent child wishes to cut off my head and piss down my bloodied throat, she’ll have to catch me first.”

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t refute the claim that you are incredibly unstable.”

Jaskier shrugged as if the implication were so obvious it didn’t deserve a response. “Oh, and you forget Skellige as well, she took Eist Tuirseach as a concubine or something of the sort.” Throwing a finger up to the sky he let his arm fall to hang over the cradled arms of the graveyard angel, his other arm behind his head toying with his hair. “And now she has the Skelligen navy at her beck and call. But you already knew that, didn’t you, butcher?”

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Naughty little dog. And you walk around as though you’ve done no wrong in this life. Shame on you. He who treats me as some sort of depraved thing. At least I don’t go running around laying claim to unborn royal babies.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Geralt hated the sour clench of his gut and the way he ground the words out between his teeth.

“What kind of man snatches a baby and then changes his mind? Either claim her or don’t but you invoked the law of surprise and now you must rise to the occasion.”

“Her?” Geralt found himself saying.

“Yes. A bright, young girl, she is. Though she’s dreadful at knucklebones.”

Geralt physically shook the thoughts from his head, refusing to entertain even the idea of his child surprise.

"She's better off in the care of Queen Calanthe and we both know that."

“That’s certainly a possibility. I’d like to think even the likes of me would make a better father than you.”

“Is that so?” Geralt laughed so hard his ribs began to ache. “You shouldn’t be allowed within sword’s length of any child.”

Jaskier scoffed indignantly and Geralt only laughed.

“Far worse an influence than any beast and more dangerous than any wild animal I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes, but for all my faults I wouldn’t have abandoned her as our mothers so coldly abandoned us.”

Geralt was getting really fucking tired of this conversation. He stood from where he knelt and with a warning growl, tossed his leather satchel back over his shoulder, adding a very spirited, “I hate you.”

“You’re very rude and I think it’s mostly uncalled for.”

“It’s because I hate you.” Geralt reaffirmed.

“I know you do, darling.” Jaskier sighed dejectedly.

"How long have you been here wallowing in this graveyard wailing like a banshee?"

"Couldn't say." Jaskier batted his eyes, sprawling out over the top of an ivy-covered headstone as if he were trying to scratch an unreachable itch. "For my grief is a prison wherein time itself holds no power."

“Wait. Where are you going? You’ve only just arrived.”

“To bed.” Geralt huffed, sheathing his sword and slinging his leather pack over his shoulder. “I came here to kill a wraith and there is no wraith. Leave, Jaskier. Move on — roam where you will, I don’t care. But go. Your dramatic wails of anguish are scaring the locals.”

Geralt had combed through the graveyard, Jaskier following behind like a lost puppy. And he had found no sign of a wraith or any other monster for that matter.

There went the brothel plans. Geralt wasn't going to take money for the head of a beast that was never there to begin with. Though, dealing with Jaskier was arguably more painful, irritating, and potentially more dangerous than a wraith.

As for the illustration -- I think you understood perfectly actually. Excellent choice by the way. In the great Autodesk Crash of 2021 I lost every file to some corrupted mess and a portion of a screenshot was all I had left of this piece. This is the current WIP version of the recovery. I mean, I spent probably ten hours painting it and was nearly done when I lost all my files. It was so tragic, my guy. Many tears were shed.

Behold, WIP Illustration_120

#honey lemon answers #the witcher #honey lemon draws #honey lemon writes #my WIPS #aw fiddlesticks #honey lemons trash #witcher fan art #wip #wip game

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years ago

Text

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 3 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first two chapters please~)

The next day flows by in a blur for Geralt. He wakes up, takes a shower, prepares a quick but nutritious breakfast for Ciri, and makes oatmeal for himself.

On his way to the hospital, he thinks about Jaskier and wonders if he should call him now. He almost does that, but then he decides against it because he knows that Jaskier is busy having his fourth dream right now probably. It's too early to call him as much as he wants to do so.

His mind wanders on how cute Jaskier sounds when he is sleepy—when he has just woken up.

Cute, but also usually a bit grumpy even though he denies it with every inch of his being.

***

"That shouldn't be legal," is what Geralt thinks when he steps into the hospital room, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's sleeping figure. "I can't believe I'm supposed to do that. God, have some mercy on me. I love my job, I really do, but it sucks big time sometimes. Why should I suffer this way?"

A moment later, he is well aware of how dramatic he is being, and how hard he frowns, making a source face. It's not like him to act like this at all.

Damn.

"That dramatic son of a flower must be rubbing off on me," annoyed at himself, he mumbles before he coughs as if that alone is enough to wake the musician up.

"Good morning," he tries when Jaskier doesn't wake up and slightly turns to the other side of his bed instead.

"Mr. Pankratz, it's your medicine time."

Jaskier slightly opens his eyes just to look at him this time, and the first thing he mumbles is: "What happened to your ears?" before closing his eyes again.

"What are you talking about?" The nurse questions, checking his ears with his free hand that isn't holding the medicine tray, wondering what he meant by that.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Yes... No. Maybe?" Jaskier mumbles again, half asleep as he rubs his eyes, trying to make sleepiness go away.

"You will have to pick one of them."

The musician opens his eyes after a while and smiles at Geralt.

"Morning. God, what a sight to wake up to."

Geralt must be used at this by now. Because whenever Geralt has to wake him up, no matter how much Jaskier complains at first most of the time, he always utters the same words eventually.

"What a sight to wake up to."

Yet, every time he does that, Geralt's heart flutters in his chest.

"You didn't sound too happy with my ears, though. What was that about?"

"Ah, about that. I had a dream that— promise you won't laugh?"

"Can't do."

"Anyway," Jaskier yawns and explains: "I had a dream that you were an... elf."

"I was a— what?" Geralt laughs.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't laugh!" The musician stares at him like he is ready to kill him.

"I never said that," Geralt forces himself to stop laughing. "Well, that explains everything."

"Shh, stop interrupting me. It's mean."

"Sorry, I'm all ears. Not elf ears, though, sorry to disappoint you."

"Don't sweat it. Bad guys were trying to steal Mrs. Ansley's—who was a fairy, speaking of which—cookie recipe, which was also the key of a parallel universe, somehow. You were trying to protect the recipe, then puff. Some gingerbread men came out of nowhere to help you, but you tried to... eat them? Well, not just tried actually. You managed to eat their leader. Therefore they decided to join the dark side. Can't blame you, though. They looked pretty yummy. I was about to hop on my unicorn for help when you woke me up. A unicorn wearing a pasta costume. Pink pasta costume. Yeah, yeah, I know, that makes no sense, is there even a pink pasta costume?" He asks sleepily, raising an eyebrow. "Also, I had a magical lute, I think."

"You think that your whole dream makes sense, but just the pink pasta costume doesn't?"

"I've never seen a pink pasta costume, so..."

"Oh, sorry, right. I forgot you have seen everything else but that. The elf version of me, alive gingerbreads and all. My bad."

He chuckles at that lightly.

"Still more possible than a pink pasta costume."

"The most ridiculous dream you had this week might be this one so far."

Jaskier seemed to have taken it upon himself to tell Geralt about his dreams. This was the eighth dream he talked about this week, and it wasn't even Friday yet.

"It was like," he opens his arms wide as if he is presenting the name of his new song to the whole world, " 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland' I blame the medicines. And you," he points at the nurse. "I also blame you. For looking like... " he then gestures at everything, "this."

"You blame me?" The other man snorts, amused. "If anything, you should blame yourself for having the wrong dream. Have you ever looked at yourself? You would make a good elf, not me. You are as bea— I mean, anyway, medicine time."

"I am what now? Wait, wait, wait, were you about to call me beautiful?"

"I was about to call you bearable, but then I thought that would be mean."

"I think you were about to call me beautiful, but then you thought 'That wouldn't be professional, you are his nurse,' or something along these lines. Also, that's not even how you start when you're about to say 'bearable' they are not even pronounced the— "

"That's not what happened."

"Nahh, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened, but eh, whatever helps you sleep at night, love."

"You're probably thinking you're still in 'Geralt and Jaskier in Wonderland', go back to sleep, you're delusional."

"I am so not! And that would be your problem even if I was. Wanna check my fever?" He says, giving the nurse a once-over, "I feel hot, suddenly."

"Well, that explains why you're delusional, doesn't it?" Geralt teases. "Take your medicine and you will be just fine."

Jaskier sighs and does as he is told.

"Geralt," Jaskier says before Geralt is about to leave, a grin on his face "I think you are 'bearable', too. "

***

Geralt means to call Jaskier.

He really does.

Yet, whenever he is about to call him, something comes up, and eventually, he just accepts that he is going to have to wait for his shift to be over.

For some reason, he doesn't want to call him and get interrupted after a minute.

And he doesn't want to send him a text, because he prefers hearing his angelic voice instead.

So, yeah. He is kind of stuck there for now.

***

Geralt finds Ciri laughing at her own joke as she watches The Office when he gets home, and this reminds him of Jaskier since that's something they both have in common. Once again, he finds himself thinking about the musician.

***

“Shit, it hurts,” Jaskier says, holding his chest.

“Maybe it’s the universe’s way to tell you to stop laughing at your own jokes.”

“Oh shut up, the universe can kiss my ass.”

“Seems like it prefers to kick your ass instead.”

That draws an annoyed laugh out of him, which makes him hiss in pain.

“It wouldn’t send me here if it was trying to kick my ass, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason.”

“I can't believe you still keep using that silly nickname unironically. Don’t you think that it is a bit long?”

“You may be right. Hmm, I’ll just call you ‘Mr. Handsome Nurse,’ from now on.”

“Please don’t. No.”

“How about just ‘Handsome’ ?”

“Still no.”

“Why not? It’s just a fact. You wouldn’t get mad at someone if they would point at a yellow wall and call it a ‘yellow wall’ would you?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I see no differences.”

“Then you better get your eyes checked.”

“Speaking of which—” Jaskier reaches for his scratch book standing on the bedside table “can I borrow your eyes for a second?”

Geralt frowns, wondering what the musician is up to this time.

Jaskier opens his scratch book and stares in his eyes intently for a while and as he scribbles something. "Thanks," he says, "I just needed an accurate model of the stars."

"You know," the nurse shakes his head and answers smoothly: "you could just ask for a mirror."

Geralt can't help but smirk at his open-mouthed speechlessness.

***

He hears a familiar voice singing, and for a moment he is sure that he has finally gone insane.

Drying his hands on a washcloth, Geralt makes his way to the source of the voice, thinking "That must how Jerry feels when he follows the smell of a piece of cheese Tom tries to fool him with."

Jaskier's voice is irresistible to him, just like how cheese is irresistible to Jerry.

Absolutely irresistible, and hard to miss.

He could distinguish Jaskier's voice among all the rest if he heard it in a room filled with millions of men singing a song together.

This voice is coming from their living room. To be more specific, from Ciri's laptop—which she was supposed to use for searching her homework topic, but that can wait for now—

"Or I shall die," he hears Jaskier singing oh so sincerely and dramatically "or I shall die!"

"Dad! Please don't be mad, I swear to God I was going to start doing my homework, but—"

The first thing he does when he sits on the couch next to his daughter is grabbing the laptop and rewinding the video to the start. He then checks if the volume is at maximum.

"Shhh," he gestures, all of his attention is on the video he is watching.

He doesn't even realize that he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees the musician's face appear in front of him on the screen before Jaskier even starts singing.

He is as beautiful as ever in his ridiculous mint green shirt that he left the first four buttons undone.

It has cactus patterns on it.

Geralt can't help but wonder if Jaskier wearing this shirt is actually some kind of a secret message to him and him only.

Didn't he say that Geralt was just like a cactus?

"...prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

His words. Not Geralt's.

What does that even mean then? Something like "I wanna wear you on me like a shirt?"

Okay, he should probably stop because he is reading too much into this and—

"Anyway, so, this song goes to the cruel man who made me want to buy this shirt because it reminded me of him. You know who you are,"

Geralt's breath hitches.

He is not reading too much into this.

If anything, it's vice versa, because Jaskier dedicated a song to him.

Jaskier is thinking about him, too.

Thinking about him too much that he has decided he should dedicate a song to him.

The scene splits into five and one of the boxes on the screen shows Jaskier playing the piano, while in the other he plays the lute occasionally, violin in another one, and accordion in the other one. And in the other, he sings.

Good God. Is there anything this man cannot do?—Besides picking names for babies maybe, since picking names is definitely isn't his strong suit.—

"I tell myself what's done is done

I tell myself don't be a fool

Play the field have a lot of fun

It's easy when you play it cool"

"Does this mean he gave up on me because he got fed up with waiting for my call?" he thinks. But then again, why would he sing a song for him if he gave up?

While watching the video, Geralt is well aware of the fact that he will watch this video again and again and will take special care of each Jaskier— making sure not to miss even the tiniest of the mimic and gesture he does.

"I tell myself don't be a chump

Who cares, let him stay away

That's when the phone rings and I jump

And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him or I shall die

Or I shall die"

He was right, this isn't a song that screams: "I'm giving up." Thank God it isn't. Jaskier puts his hand on his chest as he sings, and Ciri sighs next to Geralt, resting her head on his shoulder as she watches the video with him.

"Oh hello, hello my dear God

It must be him but it's not him

And then I die

That's when I die"

That dramatic son of a flower actually flings himself into an armchair.

"After a while, I'm myself again

I take the pieces off the floor

Put my heart on the shelf again

You'll never hurt me anymore"

While he sings the "put my heart on the shelf again" he puts a heart sculpture on his bookshelf with a serious look and frown on his face. He might have got this heart sculpture just for this video for all Geralt knows.

"I'm not a puppet on a string,"

At this point, Geralt wouldn't be surprised to see actual strings attached to the musician's body just so he could cut the strings. He really wouldn’t be surprised, at all.

Because Jaskier is that extra most of the time.

And Geralt loves that about him.

"I'll find somebody else someday

That's when the phone rings, and once again

I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God

It must be him, it must be him

or I shall die, or I shall die"

The musician's voice goes up effortlessly into an unreachable octave as he sings the last part, and it's impossible not to be impressed.

But then again, the man puts his heart into everything he does, therefore even doing something like folding a simple frog origami seems impressive when he is the one who's doing it, let alone singing as perfectly as this.

He then slowly walks towards the camera as the other boxes disappear and that one takes over the screen.

"Seriously though," he makes an aggressive 'call me' gesture, and the scene fades to black after that.

"Whoever keeps Jaskier waiting must be crazy," Ciri comments and gave a snort of disapproval and frustration. "He must care about this idiot of a guy a lot if he sings for him like this. What a jabroni. It would take him only a minute to call him."

"Ciri!"

"What? I'm right."

"That's not a nice thing to say," Geralt warns as he hands the laptop back to his daughter.

"I'm surprised that you watched the full thing, by the way. Actually, you don't seem too annoyed with me watching his videos nowadays, and you seemed quite interested in this one."

"I just love Vikki Carr," Geralt says. He has seen the title of the video, after all, so he knew this was a cover of her song. "I've wondered how he sang this song."

"Name five Vikki Carr songs then."

Geralt doesn't know five Vikki Carr songs— he can't even name two, let alone five.

"Okay, I think that's enough fun for you today," the nurse pretends not to have heard his daughter. "Do your homework while I go out to get some milk."

"We have milk at home."

"No, we don't."

"I put it in the fridge myself just this morning, so yeah, we do."

"We're out of these cookies you love, though."

"I thought you said they consumed way too much sugar so we were going to come up with a healthy and as I've read from your invisible subtitles, also probably boring recipe we can make together this weekend?"

"I— God, you ask a lot of questions today." Geralt whispers tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting Ciri's "boring recipe" comment slide.

Fuck him for not saying "I'm gonna go get some groceries," instead.

"I just asked one question, but okay. So? You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind, just for one more week, you can have it."

"Really?! Thanks!"

"Anything you want, pumpkin. Alright, I'm off!"

Geralt ruffles her hair before he grabs his wallet, keys, and most importantly, his phone.

Just before he closes the door, he can hear Jaskier's voice coming from the living room once again.

He cannot blame Ciri at all.

***

"If this is another spam call and not the important call I've been waiting for I swear on all my lute strings that I'll crush that damn phone on the ground and dance upon its bloody ruins! Actually, no, wait, that would mean the possibility of missing the call I've been waiting for, but you got my point."

As soon as Jaskier answers his call and starts talking, he feels like all the tiredness of the day disappears. Jaskier's voice manages to do that even when he is simply busy telling him off, having no idea who he is talking to.

He can see that Ciri was right. He is an idiot for waiting for the right time.

"I'm seriously so sick of—"

Geralt finally cuts him off by saying: "Wow, I wouldn't wanna be a scammer or something right now, you aggressive Dandelion."

"Wait a second, this voice— Geralt?! Is that really you? Oh my God, you finally ca— I mean—"

Jaskier coughs as if he tries not to sound too excited, "Heey, the best nurse in the existence," Geralt can almost see his flirty frowning, yes, he manages to make even frowning look flirty for crying out loud, "How's it hanging?" he asks, his voice sounds deep, lazy, and dare he say, sensual.

"I should be asking you the same question. Are you still praying by the phone?"

"Someone does stalk me on social media, I see."

"And someone sings a song and makes a pretty impressive video clip for me, I see. My daughter was watching it, and that's how I found out about it. Just for your information."

"So you're not the one who stalks me online. It's Ciri," Jaskier says, and the fact that he remembers Ciri's name warms up Geralt's heart if he's being honest. "Sweet. Cool. Cool. I'm not hurt by that at all."

"Well..."

"Would you die if you let me be happy for just a moment? Not that I'm not happy to know that your daughter still watches my videos, but it would be nice to hear that you were the one who checked my account willingly."

"I'm sure I would see your video today anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be that soon, I admit, but I would see it."

"Is that so?"

"It is so."

Silence.

But it isn't an uncomfortable one.

"Did you really find it impressive?" Jaskier asks, his voice is full of hope and happiness.

"Well—"

"Nah, I know it's impressive, forget that I asked," he lets out a long sigh, "If I knew making a video clip for you would make you call me right away, I would do that earlier. Were you playing 'hard to get' or something? You know... I find it kinda cruel to make someone who just got out of the hospital keep waiting on the phone for so long. For your information, that 'kinda' is kinda unnecessary here maybe. I call it 'the polite kinda'. Or 'the unnecessary kinda'. "

The next moment, Jaskier's playful tone leaves its place to a caring, worried one as he keeps talking: "If something is going wrong with your life, I take it back though. Ignore everything I said in that case. Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Ah, about that— Don't worry, everything is alright," Geralt replies, "I was thinking about calling you today, but I couldn't quite find the time. I know that's not an excuse, and I know I could call you earlier, but I didn't want to call you only to say 'I have to hang up,' a minute later."

"I’m happy to hear that nothing is wrong. And well, even that would be better than leaving me hanging. Or a simple 'Hey, the best patient ever' text would do. You took so long that I would be lying if I said I didn't think about getting involved in another accident."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"I would get into millions of accidents just to see you, Geralt. Provided that I could have you as my nurse every time, of course. What's the point otherwise? I'm not a masochist."

"Such a flatterer you are, Mr. Pan—"

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Cross my heart and hope do die, I'm just scattering the facts around like they are glitters. Or cake sprinkles."

"God forbid! Accidents, death... Aren't we gonna talk about nice things at all?"

"I've been waiting for you to call me forever. I have every right to be bitter about it."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. How about I start making up to you, starting now?"

"Sounds like you have something in your mind, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I do, indeed. Have you had dinner yet?"

"Does strawberry yogurt count as dinner?"

"I highly doubt it. You were complaining about hospital food, and yet that's what you choose to have for dinner?"

"I've never said I count yogurt as quality dinner, but it's still better than the things you dare to serve people as 'food', I should admit, I thought you already came to terms with—"

"Maybe you should come over so I can show you how a proper, nice dinner looks like. I'm not half bad at cooking."

Jaskier is silent on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Geralt asks finally, "I'm sorry if this was too forward of me or too soon, I just thought it could be nice. You could meet Ciri too, that way."

"No! Yeah! I mean—" if Geralt didn't imagine it, Jaskier sighs and murmurs an angry 'get it together you dumbass,' to himself before he continues talking. "Yes, I'm still here. No, this wasn't too forward of you. I was just taken aback a little bit, sorry. I mean, not every day a handsome nurse who I've been waiting for his call for a decade calls and invites me over for dinner. I'd love that, Geralt."

"I'll send you the address, then." Geralt checks his watch, it's nearly 6 p.m. "Is eight okay for you?"

"Sure, that should be fine. Hey, Ciri still doesn't know, right?"

"I don't think I need to answer that."

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Don't you think she would just grab my phone and call you herself if she knew? Or reaching out to you on every social media possible? Shouting from the rooftops, even?"

"She really likes me that much?"

"She just called me, I quote, an 'idiot', 'crazy', and 'jabroni' after watching your video, so..."

"She did what?!"

"I mean, not directly at me since she doesn't know I'm the 'him' in the 'it must be him', but still."

"Seems to me like you're in big trouble here."

"Don't even remind me about it."

"I'd be lying if I said that doesn't put some pressure on me though. I mean... What if she doesn't like me?"

"Wha— Ciri already adores you. She adores you so much that it's annoying sometimes."

"It's impossible not to like you," is on the tip of his langue.

"They say never meet your heroes. What if when she actually meets me, she goes 'Meh, that's it?' What if I disappoint her somehow?"

"Worrying about earth getting invaded by the aliens in pink pasta costumes and tutus would much more sense compared to this. Believe me."

Jaskier laughs at that, but Geralt can still sense that he is not completely convinced.

"If you say so."

"I know so, Jaskier. I know so."

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt #my writing #nurse geralt au #I Would Get into Millions of Accidents Just to See You #jaskier x geralt

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stressedoutcanary · 4 years ago

Text

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’ Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead,

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed.

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room.

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you.

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one.

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile.

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator.

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement.

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time.

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing.

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation.

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord.

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze.

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

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