#my sister cursed me out and accused me of insulting her because I said I didn't agree with her on something

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

.

[starsologyy]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟐].

002. ─── ✦ DRUNK IN LUV [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM] gojo takes home his drunk girlfriend, who's actually geto's little sister, and aka, somebody he is NOT suppose to seeing at all.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

NOV. 9. 2007. 8:54 PM. GOJO SATORU’S  POV.

satoru knows it’s a dumbass idea to be next to the girl he can’t have. especially at a public library he rented at night, but it was cheap, and no one could possibly blame him. 

if one was asked to elaborate on this institution of knowledge as a birthday venue, one wouldn’t classify this place as a profoundly enormous architectural masterpiece due to its inadequate funding, which lacks to achieve something grand in that matter.

 it’s rather pathetic, looking at it. the knowledge that surrounds them has insufficient funds to where they have lost the dignity to not plaster a scroll of edo period art on the beige walls. but the old lady who runs it; hired satoru a couple of months ago, doesn’t seem to care much.

and satoru isn’t shown to care either since he rented it out for a birthday party for teens who wanted to drink. (when it was only her and him together…)

yet, he feels as if the old woman does care somewhat. she’s bitter, rude, and slips insults off the tongue like the sound of books off the shelves (she wouldn’t be able to hear herself any other way at this age) when he does the shelving wrong. but she’s not always a senile old woman, satoru thinks. she’s nice enough to spare him from a five hour lecture to not spill a single liquid of beer on the ancient books.

 It was only four hours today.  

but never mind that.

he knows he should feel terrible, bottled with immense guilt because he hasn't told his best friend, suguru, about how he likes his little sister. and yet, satoru oddly doesn't feel any of those things.

and satoru gojo, he knows he’s fucked for his apathy.

“satoru!” kana whined, kicking her restless feet against his thrifted, acid washed baggy jeans, “i’m sooooo tired. do you have water?” she asked.

impersonating the spider web that hangs on the corner of the shelf beside them, his barrage of intertwined thoughts rip as he pops his head out of the cramped space and his eventual hangover to rapidly nod his head. 

the snow fallen haired boy soon passes her a bottle of water, watching her chug it.

satoru can’t help the grin growing on his face. “maybe you should go home, you can’t handle your beer.” he teases with a cheshire-like smile. kana scoffs at him before laughing a moment later.

she leans on the table at the end of satoru with a flirtatious expression, “accompany me home then idiot.” kana teases back, and the male’s crystal light eyes widen in a bit of a shock at that invite. the top of his mouth even shrivels as he tries to aimlessly smack his rosy lips for a bit of random moisture.

 “ah well—”

kana rolls her eyes. “my mom won’t see you! don’t be a pussy satoru.” she frowns, “i’m not some fling you’re hiding, am i?” she said as she gave him a side glare, and he rolled his eyes after he shook his head no. 

being afraid of your girlfriend’s mom and your best friend (her brother) will see you, is NOT the same as having another girl on the side, satoru screams within his head. he’s surprised after dealing with her temper and chaotic mess he hasn’t gone ahead and found a different girl yet, but that’s her charm (supposedly at least).

“okay, first of all,” he explains to kana. “if i was hiding you, i would cover up your face with a paper bag everywhere i went,” the boy laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she scrunches her face. “and don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles and look like an old hag if you keep scrunching.” satoru adds in a sing-song manner.

“also, accusing me of being with other girls is also pretty much saying I’m with an old hag. like we’re 90 years old  and I looked at some girl at a bingo game because—”

“just shut up.”  she scoffs, pinching his cheek in response before settling down.

she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt for long he realizes, even if he could technically handle it. satoru pretends as if someone shot him in the foot.

“OUCH!”

“FINE! fine! uragh, i’ll drive you home,  so you can’t complain to me. happy?” he shouts, pouting at the same time. though, it turns to an uncontrollable soft smile when the cerulean in his eyes rise as similarly unmanageable waves, to now mesmerizingly swirl in his pupils once it witnesses the sight of the joyful contortion of her lips. 

“really!? and don’t call me some old hag anymore! for the life of me.” she groaned, and he rolls his eyes to confirm his little tease will be over. 

kana smiles, forcing him up by suddenly jumping up from her seat similar to the cartoon characters plastered on the scratched walls behind him. satoru laughs boisterously at this, only to witness her also hop on his rather wide back once he also leaves the table,  wrapping her muscular arms around his neck to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re heavy!”

“fuck off!”

he clicks his tongue, holding onto her thighs to support herself on him. the silence between their lips pursue the delicate tread of the frail bliss known as comfortability. he didn’t mind the lack of their chat. It doesn't last long however. 

“seeeee, you know you like this,” she drunkenly cheers, her clumpy coats of onyx mascara with the shade electric blue on the tops fluttering lightly on her lashes as she takes in the fresh air once they step outside of the library. “how could you not love this? you should drive me home more,” she giggles. the alcohol seems to have set in, and her incredibly soft hair tickles his chin.

“and waste my gas? yeah fucking right,” he yawns mockingly, and she scoffs as she kicks her legs back and forth (ensuring to leave him a bruise for injuring her egotistical pride.) 

“ouch!”

“what’s with you and injuring me?” he grumbles. 

silence seems to have fallen off the thread of comfort now as he’s rather feeling uncomfortable from the sting of hard sneakers hitting flesh. 

her little ‘hmph!’ reminds satoru that it would mean dead silence between them, killing the conversation and giving tension between them as they both struggle to generate another, but he actually finds it opposingly soothing right now. 

they soon end up in his navy blue sports car, kana in the passenger seat as she rubs her eyes a bit. she’ll regret it later he realizes, but satoru stays silent as his engine rumbles obnoxiously loud, probably waking a couple of crying babies nearby. oops. not enough to wake her up though, so he hopes those moms would forgive him.

──────────────────────────────

the drive isn’t supposed to be long, but the time it takes to arrive to kana’s house stretches far into the greedy hands of eternity.  it desperately holds both souls in the stillness of the blinding rich glimmer from satoru’s sports car, and yet as dreadful as infinity may stretch,  he continues this sloth like pace, driving painstakingly slowly, and prolongs the inevitable.

the last time satoru gojo drove this slow, is when he first got it on his sixteen birthday and mommy wouldn’t pay to get scratches removed. 

yeah…

the reason he drives slowly though, is because he just doesn’t want to deal with what comes with pulling up near the drive through. yet he holds that breath of polluted city, or whatever how much a suburban town in the middle of nowhere can be considered a city, just at the center of his adam’s apple. kana sits restless, and exhausted at the same time somehow throughout all this.

she’s a bit naive, satoru thinks. for getting into a car with a man, to clarify. she trusts him sure, but caution lies clear in folktales of those who have been hurt by the ones they hold the most dear. 

she disregards fear like an idiot living near a radioactive plant. it’s impressive, but he’s the one who agreed, so he’s her neighbor in that dumb scenario. he stays silent as she rants about whatever drama could possibly conjure in the hellhole of the 2nd year of a suburban high school. 

but to be fair, she runs her mouth like an american sprinter about far less worse things than what he used to hear at his old, stuck up the ass, high school, before he got caught sneaking out at four am and was sent to this town like some mass isolation. 

“and then he said it’s not his fault he had to cheat because she just wasn’t getting his needs you know? but I was like nooo are you insane—”

…

“kana?”

…

“you there?”

he glances over at her, and his brows raise to the top of his head at the sight of the slight drool lining her glossed lips. the emergence of a buried sound of snoring in the rippling silence of a rural town where no one dares to stay up past twelve o'clock (or be faced with their mother’s rapid pull on rather sensitive ears) makes him chuckle. it’s amusing to watch, sure, but he quickly rests eyes back  on the ever winding road to not crash his expensive ass car into a boulder.

he really does need a new job. and soon. but maybe watching your girlfriend sleep should be a job in itself he thinks. 

satoru’s arms soon rest easy on his thighs as he gets comfortable with this road back to her place, just an easy step on the gas he also needs to refill. he’s unconsciously keeping a steady pace to not wake her up, but he denies it to the gentle, beating of his stone cold heart by saying he doesn’t have the cash to waste another gallon or purchase another tire to go over a pothole carelessly. 

also, he doesn’t want to wake up some family like he did a while ago. after another five minutes or so, they reach their destination.

──────────────────────────────

he glances over once more. “wake up ugly.” the cheeky boy provokes, pinching the chub of her cheek to leave it a hint more rosy than what kana normally brushes on her cheeks. 

“or else i’ll kick you out for not paying me back for gas.” he mutters to himself, his scarred muscles (from being outside more than some barbaric creature who resides in forests) almost shuddering at the thought of paying those ever increasing expenses. 

kana’s eyelids slowly rise to the sight of the slightest frown on the boy next to her, but they almost already fall shut once more from the alcohol she ingested a while ago. her lips remain shut while her head remains slugged on the back of his white leather extravaganza of a vehicle. 

“we here already?” she murmurs.

“just got here.” he nods.

a part of his aching soul is fond enough of kana, that as the girl holds near and dear inside his very calloused soul, he silently pursues the question of letting her sleep a while longer if her hangover needs so. but he disregards that thought. 

the longer he stays, the more likely he is to be caught. even if he wants his girlfriend to get the sleep she needs. 

kana raises a brow in turn to somehow telepathically question why he hasn’t launched some mischievous joke to wake her up. he can tell what she’s asking from that look in her eyes. 

 “since its your birthday and what not.” he quickly adds, as if to deny a disgusting softness that may cultivate in the gentleness of his self if carefulness continues to lack in the streamlining of hushed words.

“oh. okay.” kana sighs, a yawn escaping soon after as she rummages through the back of the car to find her onyx bag. it has a bountiful bunch of multivariety printed pins stuck to the painfully clear false leather of measly fabric and the same galore of cheap key chains stuck to the strap and zipper, but it seems more endearing than he is to her. 

he’s joking, obviously. 

there’s a quietness now as she continues to try to make sure she doesn't forget anything, and it’s usually familiar, but satoru feels a lump like he wants to gag and renchingly expel the hideous bile of his very stomach from its personification of a burden to ask why it exists. the silence from a bit ago was comfortable. now it’s noticeably not. 

why is she quiet? she normally talks his damn ears off when she wakes up, as much as he does her. it’s giving him an unfamiliar goosebump, similar to when he sees a seven foot male at his basketball games. essentially, it’s not good.

at all.

it shouldn’t be there, and his need for the expulsion of a cheap beer isn’t this feeling either. it’s not the same, even if he doesn’t like to drink very often and pukes after a sip.  satoru only drank beer today for kana honestly, but he usually sticks to more sugar cube filled mockery of these drinks more often than not.

she’s gotta be pissed off for sure, or satoru is in hell for not throwing away the empty milk carton from when he wanted cereal from this eerie silence. 

“you mad at me?” he hums, looking outside the clearness of his driver’s window (that he only cleaned yesterday to impress her).

silence again. he looks at her once more. did he wake her up too early? he doesn’t think he did (but men never know what they did wrong he learned). 

 “why would i be mad?” she scoffs, resting her bag in her lap as she then begins to pick up the things she keeps forgetting to get back from his abyss of a car every other time she enters his car. for example, like that vampy lipgloss from the dollar store, she keeps forgetting it, and always forgetting to take it back. 

“you just seem mad all of a sudden. i don’t know. did i suddenly fuck up, your royal highness?” satoru sighs.

“well, i’m not. you’re just reading inbetween the lines.” she glares out of the blue, and his similarly colored cerulean eyes droop at its very cold sight, like her being merely upset freezes him more than what winter may do in the essence of the common occurrence called frostbite. 

he goes back to looking away though, yet she can somehow notice a snowflake of shame as a glimmer in his eyes that she stares at quite often in the haze of her slugged drunkenness.

“so you are mad.” he states with a sigh leaving his lips after he does so.

she doesn’t respond for a moment.

“and if i am?” maybe she’s on her period satoru wonders. just maybe. 

“i drove you home though, like you wanted.” he seems to be insisting of a conversation that may drive him mad the more she could have the time to glare at him in this enclosure of a car. he shrugs, trying to open up a door that probably shouldn’t be touched. “did i forget to do something else? did you want flowers?—”

“just open the damn car door. im like a prisoner!” she responds, angrily trying to open the car’s side door after picking up her forgotten lip gloss. he grabs her wrist in a rather harsh manner, but it softens at the realization of a small wince on kana’s very face. 

“sorry—but, i wanna talk. i know you’re mad at me, but I thought we had a good time at your birthday party, and you know, i can’t understand why you’re mad all of a sudden,” he mutters, “and for being so dumb.” he

adds, and while he repeats the word ‘sorry’ like a broken cd, she knows satoru says his sorries and apologies as much as meteors appears in the very calming night of this town. or a tsunami and what not. 

satoru doesn’t intentionally hurt her. yet, it’s this time where retribution once more comes forth to punish the way kana’s senseless rambles attempt to shelter her from his notions of affection. he wants to know why he hurt her, but the countless occurrences she has pushed him away has comes to haunt her and her fragile femininity in trying to express herself currently. 

she shouldn’t need a man to help her feel better, she thinks. 

her endless polarity of moods continue to antagonize her in a manner that she will never be someone that she wants to be without agonizing over the smallest matters. it’s a shame when she looks at the worry in his eyes again that she's the cause of. 

they’re pure, and hers are troubled. she doesn’t know how to express herself in a matter of care and gentleness in which other women have been characterized to have known since their heart has beat.  

it’s easy to talk to the boy about anything but her feelings truthfully.

she looks down, because she feels the uncomfortable warmth lining her tear ducts. 

it’s weird, crying on your birthday, she thinks. especially over such a good guy like satoru, she just can’t get the words to slip as much as bile does after a crappy special night out. he carefully holds her for a moment now, as if she’s a fragile piece of glass, letting her head rest in the scent of his woody cologne.

“did you care when i was talking about that random girl earlier?”

huh? he thinks, raising a brow. she doesn’t know how else to distract him. she’s drunk. who’s going to blame her? 

“not really, but i guess it was fucked up her boyfriend cheated.” the white haired boy murmurs. “are you mad because i didn’t show interest, cause i was listening it only didn’t seem like it because—”

“because you were driving, i know.” he raises his brow at what could she be annoyed about if it’s not about that, but he stays silent. “i don’t know what i’m mad about then.”

he’s about to open his mouth but, “i don’t know. okay? maybe it’s because im buzzed. it just happened all of a sudden okay? you know i don’t cry often it’s just you know, you know? right?”

she’s repeating words like a mad man, he thinks. crying like a jester on display after a ball falls from the juggle of his rather childish act. she fits the role of one oddly enough, but he likes the spontaneity of it all. 

“so you’re upset at me because you’re drunk? because this happened all of a sudden you know?” if he says the words ‘you know’ one more time, he might bang his head. 

she nods. 

he sighs of some sort of minor relief despite not understanding it. “you’re always an emotional wreck after a beer.” he grunts, and she rolls her eyes, her fingertips obnoxiously wiping away her sudden tears as if she wasn’t wearing smokey eye makeup at the moment. 

she’s glad he’s not forcing her to say more. he’s glad himself he won’t have to provoke her to another mess of her drunken mind. he’s not equipped to deal with the mental breakdowns, but he still allows her to ramble endlessly about others, and then cry in his arms about nonsensical matters. despite him being the forbidden fruit she wants to taste his bitter lips, so she kisses satoru despite it all, savoring the sweetness of his love despite the fact suguru would kill her for dating his best friend. 

taglist? <3. just comment below!

[fangirlfrom-hell]

Jay and Will Halstead x Halstead sister

Request: Hey! Could u do some sort of imagine of when halstead sister (becca or not:) sees pat halstead die. Obviously they’re relationship was a lil Distnat but he had a soft spot for her..blah blah blah. Basically just like Jay having to literally force her out of the room while she’s sobbing and screaming etc. lots of fluff and whatever!

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

There was a siren, and soon the sound of two car engines parking in the garden indicated that her brothers had arrived.

-"He's in the living room, he can't stand up!" Becca whined going outside of the house, approaching to Jay and Will.

-"Ok, what happened?" She was so stressed she didn't even know who asked. She was now following her brothers inside of the house. Everything was happening so fast.

-"He--uh--he had a pain in the chest and fall down the stairs".

-"I told you not to call anyone!" Pat's angry accusation was heard from inside the house.

-"I know dad, but--He didn't want me to call 911, but he looked so bad that at the end I did anyway. But he yelled to the paramedics, made them go".

-"I'm fine!" Their father insisted with annoyance when his two sons and daughter got to the living room, where he was laying on the couch. Immediatly, Will ran towards the man to check on him. It was obvious that he was having trouble breathing and he was sweating a lot.

-"No, you're not!" Becca raised her voice: "They said he should be taken to the hospital as soon as possib--".

But her father raged before she could finish: "That's enough! Shut up now, Becca".

In a sudden movement, Jay positioned himself protectively in front of Becca and pointed at Pat with his finger, his voice stern: "Hey, you shut up! She's your daughter and she's just trying to help you".

-"Jay!" Will scolded him, it was not the moment.

Scared and crying, she lowered her voice: "He--he refused to be attended and made them go away".

-"Yes! I refused to go and you shouldn't have call your brothers!" He coughed and his doctor son made a sign to calm him down.

-"I didn't know what to do!" Becca cried out to her siblings, mostly explaining herself to Jay.

-"You did good in calling us, Becc". Will reassured her. -"And you are comming to The Med with me". He turned to threaten his father.

Will and Jay carried Pat to one of the poorly parked cars outside the house. "I'll take him. I can turn on the siren and get there faster", Jay ordered. Both brothers placed their father inside the truck, all the while he cursed his kids for what they were doing.

-"Hey! Take care of her". The detective nodded towards his sister, who was freezed in the framedoor of the house entrance.

-"Becca, come on! We gotta go!" Will called her at the same time that the siren sounded, and the truck sped away.

The road to The Med was silent. Will was frowning in concern while driving, thinking on what to say to make Becca feel better. There were tears welling up in her eyes, though she never let them truly escape; she wiped them away with the sleeve of her sweater, trying to keep her brother from noticing. He understood how she was feeling. Dealing with Pat was hard and emotionally draining, especially for Becca, who was just a teenager and had to face his insults and neglect all on her own. No words were necessary; he simply reached over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze before refocusing on the road.

By the time they arrived to The Med, Pat had already been admitted and Jay was standing up in the waiting room. Will wasted no time and immediately entered the ED to inquire about his father's condition. Jay and Becca just stared at each other and he gave her a sad smirk before hugging her. "You were so brave back there", he said.

-"Will hasn't sent you any text yet? It's taking too long" Becca faltered after an hour.

-"He'll be out as soon as he has news". He wished to reassure her that everything would be fine, but his certainty wavered.

Those were the only words they exchanged while waiting. A few minutes later, the head nurse arrived and ushered Jay to his older brother's side. Maggie, with a warm smile, ensured that Becca wasn't left alone and sat down beside her.

-"All I can tell you is that he's in stable condition. Delicated, but alive". Maggie grumbled noticing the teen's anxiety growing.

-"Good". She answered curtly. -"Or whatever". She tried to appear indifferent, but she couldn't completely hide her concern. Pat had been neglectful and offensive to her throughout all those years of upbringing, but he was still her father, the only parent she had left.

Maggie was about to say something when a beep on her phone interrupted her. She clicked her teeth as she read the text. "Come on, I'll take you to your brothers, sweetie".

The Halstead brothers were inside a tiny, empty room, both pale with expressions that were hard to read, but it was obviously nothing good. Jay frowned and pressed his lips together as soon as he saw his little sister coming in; there was this pinkness under his eyes noticeable whenever his eyes were watery. Will sighed and invited her to sit, but she refused.

--"Alright, I'll get straight to the point," the redhead exhaled. - "Dad had a heart attack..."

-"That's what I suspected," the girl interrupted, emotionless.

-"Becc...his heart stopped; he was gone, but Dr. Archer brought him back. This is worse than the last time. Much worse."

-"Oh. Ok, but he is alive". That came out sounding as a question.

-"He's stable for now, yes." He gazed deep into her eyes, and it felt as though he had pierced her soul.

-"What does that mean, Will? Is he going to be okay?" She shuddered.

Silence.

-"Will..."

-"It's uncertain, Becca." Jay joined the conversation to help. "Doctors are still working on him, conducting tests. We still don't know how serious this is. Anything could happen..."

She finally sat down, sniffing.

-"I know this is hard, but there's nothing we can do, but wait and pray". The doctor concluded.

Neither of the siblings moved from their spots; it was as if they had become frozen in place, as if time itself had stopped. Will's phone disrupted the solemn atmosphere: "He's awake".

Jay walked alongside Becca, following Will to the section of the ED where their father had been admitted. Pat lay on the hospital bed with oxygen to assist his breathing, surrounded by numerous cables and machines. He raised his hand when he spotted his sons and daughter entering, but Will hurried to signal him not to make any effort. Becca stopped abruptly, and Jay had to give her a gentle nudge to encourage her to enter. He squeezed her shoulder to let her know he was right there with her.

She felt confused, her emotions all jumbled together. Was she feeling this way because, not so deep down, she was worried and scared for her father? Or was she afraid of how he would react after being brought to the hospital on her account?

-"You wouldn't believe me, but I'm glad you three are here," Pat interrupted Becca's thoughts.

-"You shouldn't be talking--" Will rushed to his side.

-"I don't think it matters at this point, son," their father struggled to reply. Will shivered upon hearing how he was addressed.

-"I know I--I've been an idiot," he groaned in an attempt to sit up but failed.

-"Dad, don't--"

-"Will, please... just let me--" He sighed. "I've been an idiot. And I need to apologize to you before--."

At that moment, Becca started to cry uncontrollably, and Pat noticed her precense as if no one else was in the room: "...specially you". He conffessed looking at her right straight to the eyes. She had never heard such sweet tone on his voice before. After a few seconds of contemplating her, he smiled with teary eyes.

-"Come here, Becca."

The girl turned her head back to look at Jay, as asking for his permission and he nodded encouragingly. She slowly walked to the bedside but didn't dare to approach too closely.

"Look at you, my beautiful baby girl", he sighed. -"You resemble your mother so much. Oh, she will never forgive me. I think I will never forgive myself. But I hope you do... for your own sake". He struggled to catch his breath with each word he pronounced. "I know I've got no excuse. I was so hurt when your mom died, I couldn't even take care of myself, and you were so little and reminded me so much of her that I couldn't---I couldn't even look at you. It was too late when I tried to compensate for it with you, I couldn't even try". Pat confessed, his voice filled with sadness. "I regret it so much, to have seen you grow and become who you are from the distance, uninvolved. I wanted to be for you, but I didn't know how to go back to you...".

Will got distracted with one of the machines and focused on reading the signs from it.

-"I'm sorry, Becca. I am so sorry, sweetheart. For everything. I'm proud of you, know that. And even if you don't believe my words: I love you".

Becca was weeping as she got closer to take his hand.

-"Alright". The doctor said with a lump in his throat. "Enough emotions for today. Dad, you really need to rest now".

But he didn't listen: "Keep taking care of her, Jay. Promise me that".

-"Always". The detective answered simply, taking a step forward, his arms crosses.

-"I'm proud of you both too. Despite me, you've grown into fine men."He turned to his sons: "My boys". A violent coughing fit overcame him and all the machines started to make a sound, indicating that something was wrong. After a hard pain in his chest, Pat loose consciousness. Everything happened so fast.

-"Dad!" Becca yelled, still by his side.

-"What's going on, Will?" His brother jumped.

-"You have to clear the room!" He gently tugged at Becca, trying to pull her away from the bed, but she hesitated. Jay hurriedly joined her side, attempting to separate her from the scene. Suddenly, they found themselves encircled by a team of nurses, led by Dr. Archer, who were speaking rapidly in a whirlwind of medical terminology that Becca and Jay couldn't quite comprehend.

Jay persistently pulled his sister, but it seemed futile; she clung to the bed, sobbing and screaming for her dad, refusing to leave his side. Her distress was palpable, and Jay's efforts to move her proved challenging in the face of her deep emotional turmoil.

-"Jay, take her out of here!" Will pressured.

Jay knew he had to take drastic action to get her out. With tears in his own eyes, he firmly hugged her from the back and started pulling her harder, as he would do with any other victim at work. Her resistance made the process challenging, the girl's sobs and screams reverberated in the room. Come on, come on, Becc, he kept repeating.

The vitals monitor indicated that the patience heart had stopped, the sound it made as an announcement was like a dagger in the Halstead siblings. Doctors kept working, trying to resucitate him, and Becca gave up fighting her brother.

-"No!" She screamed long. If it wasn't for Jay, she would had fall to the floor. "I love you too, dad. I love you". She cried out.

Jay lifted Becca firmly into his arms and managed to pull her out. She clung to him, her cries muffled against his shoulder. Her grip was tight, and her protests were heart-wrenching, but Jay remained unwavering. She couldn't even hold herself up, so they both sank to the floor and settled in the hallway, where he cradled her even closer. She buried her red and tear-streaked face in his shoulder. He began to sway gently back and forth, as if he were soothing a baby.

-"It's all right, it's all right. Take it out" his voice was both comforting and broken. -"I'm here by your side, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered softly as she kept bawling.

-"I should have called you earlier," Becca blubbered, her voice filled with guilt. "Or somehow made him go in the ambulance."

Jay gently separated her from him, noticing the wet patch she had left on his t-shirt. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze: "Hey, this is not on you. Don't you even think about it."

Defeated, Will emerged from the trauma room and spotted his siblings in the heart-wrenching position they were in. Jay glanced at him with questioning eyes, and the doctor simply shook his head in response, conveying the grim news without words.

Jay kissed Becca's hair and took his head back to close his eyes finding his own solace. Quietly, Will sat down beside his brother and sister, sharing the grief.

[kivaember]

me succumbing to the desire to write some kid tao and koshimizu stuff and ofc since this is gonna be set in mortal gods, that means shun'ya's there... it'll give good context to their relationship at least...

me sitting here like god i kinda wish we had more reaction from koshimizu in vanilla smtv about tao dying bt hey that's why fic exists i guess. anyway. i love my raidou oc shun'ya.

teaser under the cut as per usual uwu

-

“You want me to babysit?”

“Bodyguard,” Tsukuyomi corrected mildly. “It’s a great honour.”

Shun’ya, Raidou’s apprentice, clearly didn’t seem to think so. His blue eyes were narrowed into a petulant glare, and his bottom lip was threatening to push out into a pout, rather than the very stern frown he was valiantly clinging onto. Well, not that his frown was all that intimidating to begin with. Just shy of eighteen, Shun’ya’s face was still cursed with lingering puppy fat, and combined with the smattering of freckles over his cheeks, and his dark, fluffy hair, he looked a few years younger than he actually was.

It meant his petulant sulk was more endearing than insulting. Probably why Raidou let him get away with far more than he should (not that Tsukuyomi wasn’t any less guilty of caving to Shun’ya’s wide blue eyes and fat-lipped pouts)…

“You want me to take Tao to the park and walk her to school,” Shun’ya accused. “I’m not sure what’s so honourably great about that.”

“Her status as ‘Saint’ means she is always a target for those who crave power.” Tsukuyomi clasped his hands together and let them rest atop of his desk as he leaned forwards in his seat. “You should know better than most, how vulnerable children with vast amounts of spiritual power are…”

It was a low blow. Shun’ya’s sulkiness instantly evaporated, his expression pained as his gaze lowered.

Tsukuyomi pressed the point. “I’ll remind you that it’s only been a few months since her rescue-”

“Kidnapping,” Shun’ya mumbled under his breath, too low for a human to hear. Tsukuyomi ignored it because, well, he was right. Technically.

“-and she isn’t acclimatising well to her new surroundings. Likely because she has nothing but angels and technicians to speak to.” Tsukuyomi’s tone turned a bit dry at the end. He knew first hand that they were not the most riveting or pleasant conversationalists. “It’s vital to a human’s development for them to socialise and go outside… and this arrangement is the compromise myself and Abdiel have reached.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Shun’ya sighed. “I guess it’s something no one else can do around here.”

“Exactly.” Tsukuyomi punctuated the point with an encouraging nod. As a reward, he obligingly fluffed Shun’ya’s ego a little: “I would trust no other devil summoner - aside from Raidou himself, of course - to protect Tao from the dangers outside. You’re talented and capable for your age, bear enough similarity to her for the average human to assume familial links, and you’re uniquely equipped to understand the turmoil Tao is going through. You’ll not only safeguard her physically, but may be able to offer her emotional and mental support as well, which is important if she is to become well-adjusted.”

“I don’t think anyone will grow up well-adjusted in Bethel of all places,” Shun’ya deadpanned. “You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t grow up to be a freak.”

“She won’t grow up to be a freak,” Tsukuyomi said, though she was Amaterasu’s Knowledge, and his sister had her… quirks, that he politely turned a blind eye to. “You managed to grow up… mostly fine, didn’t you?”

Shun’ya scowled but didn’t rise to the low-hanging bait.

“I guess you already passed this by Raidou,” Shun’ya said rather than asked. The sulkiness was beginning to creep back in, but Tsukuyomi overlooked it. For all of his talent and training, Shun’ya was still a juvenile - albeit a lethally trained one. Some immaturity was to be expected.

And, more importantly, Tsukuyomi knew that while Shun’ya may view this ‘great honour’ beneath him, he’d give an exemplary performance as always. He was predictable in that he refused to embarrass Raidou in any way, and so long as that stick was hovering in his periphery he’ll do as he was told without fail.

Well, he’ll bark a bit before obeying, but Tsukuyomi didn’t mind it. Humans were a wilful species. It was a charm point.

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - #01 "Muddy Waters"

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

A/N: i want to know what people think of this, I feel like it's sounds good in my head but not exactly good in words. Also, this is shorter than what i usually write, i'm trying the "short" chapters a while.

Warnings (under constructions): Violence, mentions of fighting, cursing, light power abuse, war environments.

Words: 2.769 K

Dictionary for this chapter: Parshivets - brat || bratan - brother || dvornyaga - mutt || plague - chuma || Prostite - sorry || Vrediteli - pests || svin'ya - pig || devochka - girl || borot'sya - fight

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Part Two || Series Masterlist

//-//

Chapter One - Muddy Waters

Sokovia, 11 years ago.

You ran to catch up with one of the boys who was running away from you.

You didn't know his name, but you think he lived in the apartment below you, and since everyone always played together, and there were many children, you didn't know everyone's name. The only thing you really needed to know was who you had to pick up.

"Parshivets!" You heard your brother's voice shout through the window into the area where you were. "Come to dinner!"

"I'm kidding, bratan" You retorted as you stopped running and looked up, gesturing to your apartment window.

"Come up now, papa is telling you to!" Your brother ordered before sticking his head inside again.

Grumbling angrily, you waved goodbye to the other children.

When you reached your floor, you saw the Maximoff twins coming out of their apartment, and smiled at Pietro who noticed you from down the hall.

You hoped that your father would let you play with them later.

//-//

There was dust covering your eyes and nose.

You coughed, running your hand over your face, trying to understand what was happening around you, the sound of sirens and explosions muffled by the ringing in your ear.

"Papa?" You called out with hoarseness in your voice, still somewhat aroused. You blinked and realized that what was your room was now just a pile of rubble.

Feeling a sharp pain in your torso, you looked down, letting out a surprised exclamation at the iron wedged in your belly. You whimpered in pain, trying to move. "Papa." You called out again, completely confused and frightened.

You heard voices in the distance, and sounds on the rocks, but your eyes began to heavy again. Maybe you were going to fall asleep, and maybe sleep would take the pain away, so you closed your eyes.

//-//

"She needs medical assistance." A male voice sounded muffled in your ears. You blinked in confusion, the sky above you as something moved below. You were being carried.

"We have vacancies in district twelve." Said someone on the other side, you tried to look, but your whole body ached and you grumbled. The noise attracted the attention of the soldier carrying you on the stretcher, and he looked at you tenderly.

"Don't worry, kid." He spoke. "We found you in time. You are safe."

You felt your throat dry, and you wanted to ask for water, but you were too weak to speak.

"Papa." It was the only thing you could mumble before everything went dark again.

//-//

When you awoke again, you had a large white bandage around your waist, and the pain had subsided greatly. You were in one of the medical tents that you had seen once in the distance when you ran past the area where the soldiers were staying.

You looked around, frightened and confused, trying to understand what had happened. There was a man in a black suit walking around the stretchers, a notepad in his hands.

"Another casualty." He comments as he scribbles something on the sheet after looking at the girl lying a few beds ahead of his. You felt your stomach turn when you realized she wasn't actually asleep the second after. "It's already twenty-four."

The nurse next to him grumbled in agreement, and then she looked forward and noticed you awake, a gentle smile filling her expression as she turned away from the man to walk over to you.

You drank all the water she served you, and accepted the hug she gave you after telling you that your father and brother did not survive the attack. The man in black tried to reassure you that the orphanage in the district was the best in Sokovia, but you kept crying.

//-//

You stood still with your hands behind your back while the nurse measured your height.

"Look how well behaved you are." She comments with a smile, making you smile as well. She takes a few notes on the placard in front of you and then stoops down to your height. "Are you ready to join the other children?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, denying with your head. The nurse tilts her head to the side slightly.

"You don't have to be afraid." She says. "You're a big girl now, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." You reply.

"Then why are you scared?"

You shrug, looking down. The nurse sighs lightly, looking toward the door. You know that the children who have already been evaluated are outside the hospital, waiting for the bus from the orphanage.

"I miss my brother." You mumble softly next, causing the woman to glare at you. "He was better at playing than I was. And he always introduced me to the other children."

"You're going to have a lot of brothers now." It was the best thing the woman could think to say, and you nodded in understanding, ignoring the urge to cry. She handed you a lollipop on the way out and told you to behave. You said you would, but your fingers were crossed behind your back.

//-//

The orphanage was a dirty, dark place. The building was old and made strange noises if you stepped in certain places. And there were many children.

The war in Sokovia had left many marks on their country, and it was noticeable in places like this.

You were going to share the north dormitory with fifteen other children, and you had several rules to follow in your new home. The orphanage sisters repeated the guidelines all the way to the building as you walked down the bus corridor. You talked to no one along the way, your attention on the landscape visible through the window.

When you arrived, and were taken to your rooms to put on your uniforms and get ready for dinner and to be assigned the tasks you had started in the morning, you followed obediently, without really being present in the environment. Everything seemed a bit stuffy.

//-//

You stopped sweeping when the sound of voices caught your attention. And well, they caught the attention of all the other girls who were on the same shift as you, because they all looked away, and rushed to the windows to look out. You imitated the movement, and you could see outside a small circle of children forming in the backyard. It was a fight.

Your classmates ran outside, and you sighed, figuring that you weren't going to finish sweeping by yourself, so you'd better join them.

When you reached the small mess, you observed two boys pushing each other in the circle, exchanging insults, but not really hitting each other. The other orphans watched the scene curiously, waiting for the fight to escalate. You hoped this wouldn't happen, since the taller boy was accompanied by three others.

"You're a cheater, aren't you Maximoff?" Accused the blond boy with irritation. You blinked in surprise as you recognized the smaller boy. Your former neighbor, Pietro.

"And you're a bad loser, Sidorov." Retorted the other boy taking a step back to avoid the blond's hands.

"I'm not a loser, cheater." Sidorov thundered, lunging forward again and pushing Pietro to the ground.

You and the small crowd held your breath. The blond boy stepped forward again and hit Pietro in the nose.

Sidorov's friends laughed and Pietro grabbed the blond by the legs, knocking him to the ground. As they rolled in the dirt, the orphans began to shout "borot'sya" and you looked around. Your gaze caught Wanda Maximoff moving through the crowd and advancing toward her brother.

One of Sidorov's friends held her by the arms and she shouted at them to stop fighting. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race. You weren't friends with the twins, and you had no desire to get into a fight that wasn't yours. But they were the most familiar thing around at the moment, so your feet were moving.

You broke through the crowd and grabbed the garden hose, running toward the direction of the fight again. Sidorov was mounted on Pietro having managed to immobilize him, but before he could land the punch, you wrapped the hose around his neck and pulled him backward.

As he let out an exclamation of pain and surprise and fell backwards, trying to shake off the grip, you pulled Pietro off the ground.

"You could have killed me, girl!" gasped the boy on the ground with hatred in his eyes, their friends let go of Wanda to advance against you and Pietro, but someone shouted that the nuns were coming and you grabbed Pietro and Wanda's hand, pulling them to run away with you.

//-//

Breathing hard, you propped your hands on your knee.

"Did we lose them?" Pietro asked just as breathless as you. Wanda looked back, equally tired from the race.

"Yes." She replied as she looked around.

"Great." You grumbled standing up properly. You cleared your throat and shifted your weight between your feet, not knowing exactly what to say next. Pietro approached you, extending his hand.

"Thanks for helping me out back there." He says with a smile. You ignore his hand to raise your finger toward the bruise on his left eye, but you don't touch your face, leaving your finger in the air pointing toward the wound.

"You look like a badass now." You tease, causing the boy to laugh with flushed cheeks. "It's better than your dorky face at least."

"Hey." He retorts with false offense, still smiling. You look at Wanda next, and she is already looking at you curiously.

"You are Y/N." Wanda says. "You lived in the apartment downstairs."

Looking away, you mutter in agreement.

"We didn't know that other people survived the collapse." Pietro comments next, and you nod.

"Well, here we are." You say with irony, causing Wanda and Pietro to frown. Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't like to talk about it."

"It's okay, neither do I." Wanda commented and you gave her a short smile.

"We should get back." You say next, and the twins nod in agreement.

You walk ahead, kicking up a few rocks on the way, looking back a few times to see if they are still behind you.

They are.

//-//

Sokovia, ten years ago.

"Time to wake up little brats"

You grumbled in irritation as you heard the voice of the nursemaid, then the shrill noise of the bell. Gingerly rummaging in your covers, you got out of bed, equally as all your dorm mates.

"Today the governor will visit the orphanage and I expect you to be on your best behavior, or know that you will be punished if you embarrass Father Novikov." Warned Madame Ivanov, the housekeeper of the Sokovia Municipal Orphanage, or your home since the apartment complex where you lived was destroyed when a bomb fell on the structure during one of the civil war conflicts. "This will be my only warning to you, Vrediteli, I will take special care of those who do not behave."

Madama Ivanov looked directly at you, and you clenched your jaw, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes.

"Bath and breakfast." She ordered next. "And after chores, everyone properly dressed in the main courtyard."

Your colleagues moved first than you as soon as Madame left the room. You sighed, sitting up in bed. You hadn't slept very well the night before, dreaming of explosions again. But you didn't have time to think about it, and yawning, you got up again, heading toward the bathrooms.

//-//

You were covered from head to toe in mud. Madame Ivanov and Madame Pavlova looked at you wide-eyed, as did the rest of the room, and you swallowed hard. The room was completely silent, no one ventured to say anything. The perfectly aligned suit of the governor of Sokovia, now with a dark mud stain on his chest.

"Oh, look at this." The man spoke next, you remained static, staring at him wide-eyed. He chuckled, and you almost relaxed. Then a loud slap hit your face and you gasped in pain and surprise. "Do you have any idea how much that suit cost me, pest?" He asked between teeth, and you felt your stomach turn in anger. The man threatened to advance toward you again, and you didn't hesitate to punch him in the balls, drawing an angry exclamation from him and shocked sighs from all your colleagues.

"Don't ever touch me again, svin'ya" You retorted angrily before running away, intending to escape the punishment of the sisters who were sure to catch up with you eventually.

When you stopped running, you were many blocks from the orphanage, a spot below your ribs hurting badly. The mud dried against your skin and you grunted in disgust at the sensation.

Changing the direction of your steps, you snuck through the alleyways of the city, ignoring the looks of disapproval and curiosity people cast at the sight of a ten-year-old covered in mud in the outlying part of town.

You reached the small laundromat in the mall a few minutes later, and snuck into the northern outer entrance, trying not to be seen by the employees as you reached one of the tanks. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and the place was quite empty. You cleared your throat as you reached one of the windows, and the noise attracted the attention of the girl inside, distracted by the dirty fabrics in her hands.

"Damn it, you' scare the shit out of me!" Wanda exclaimed to you, and you laughed expectantly. She opened the window latch next, and you jumped in. "Why are you covered in mud? And why are you here?"

You shrugged, taking off your T-shirt and pants. Wanda hurried to fill a bucket of water as you walked over to one of the empty faucets, leaning over to wash your face.

Clean, you sighed.

"Sorry for showing up unannounced." You ask remembering Wanda's work rules. She would wake up earlier than you, and go to work in the laundry while you and Pietro would take any service you could get since steady jobs like Wanda's were very difficult. And since labor laws didn't apply to children, you and Pietro took Wanda's lunch whenever possible, and helped her wash clothes so she wouldn't be so tired. The rule was always to let her know because her boss couldn't find out about it.

"No problem." She retorts as she looks around for dry clothes for you. "But will you tell me what happened?"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, ducking your head.

"I was fighting." You grumbled and Wanda stopped the motion of reaching for a t-shirt in the upstairs closet, turning to you next with a worried look.

"Again, devochka?" She asked as she approached and used her hand to gently lift your chin up, searching your face for any sign of injury. Without the mud, the purple in your left eye was visible.

"Prostite, Wanda." You muttered in shame, but Wanda sighed shaking her head.

"Why were you fighting?"

You shrugged and Wanda bit her lips. "I tried to kick Nikolai but he shoved me in the mud, and punched me in the face. So I did as you taught me and ran. Only I ended up bumping into the governor."

Wanda's eyes widen at the story.

"So?"

You ducked your head again.

"He slapped me in the face." You say. "And I punched him in the balls."

Wanda blinked in surprise at the confession, and then laughed. You widened your eyes, surprised that she wasn't angry, and she shook her head with amusement, ruffling your hair.

"You've gone crazy." She commented. "The sisters are going to put you in charge of cleaning the bathrooms for the whole month."

You shrugged again, and Wanda walked away, going back to looking for a set of clothes for you.

"Where's Pietro?" She asked as she handed you a set of gray clothes that were probably laundry uniforms that got too old to wear.

"Gathering coal for Mr. Sidorov." You replied as you dressed. Wanda grumbled in understanding as she dipped your muddy clothes into the water.

"I'll bring your clothes to you when I'm done." She comments as she turns to you again, and you nod in agreement hurrying to climb in the window.

"Hey, Wanda." You call out before leaving, glancing at the girl as you lean on the window. "I'll bring you some candy. In thanks." You say with a smile, and don't wait for a reply, turning around.

//

Tag list> @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia //   @ichala​ ||  @madamevirgo

[skzsauce01]

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap. 

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to. 

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?” 

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

[onesheeptwosheepandachicken]

26 Reasons why Qrow is not Ruby’s father and why Taiyang is Ruby’s father

In response to the toxic aspect of the fandom attacking CRWBY and demanding that their desires for Qrow be chosen over canon, or how they feel their theory is more valid than the show itself? I have researched RWBY to make this 26-point Discussion as to why Canon is valid, and fancanon is not when it comes to Qrow Branwen, Ruby Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, and Summer Rose.

 1.       “Monty said NO”    Most obviously. Monty Oum.

   He said in this tweet that ruby and yang are half-sisters…half-sisters,  which means they share the same mom or dad…in this case Taiyang….

  https://twitter.com/montyoum/status/492070189731565568

Now people have claimed “he obviously meant step-sisters or cousins” Why is it that every time we show the English dictionary to you people or ask you to read it, that you claim you are being attacked or that you claim Monty was misleading us?

 2.       The writers said NO

   Miles Luna debunked this theory on Reddit…

   He pointed out that Ruby sees Qrow as a Role model, so she adapts her colors to be similar to his.

   And you don’t need somebody to be blood to be your role model.

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5d67g/?

 3. “Rooster Teeth said NO” Rooster Teeth even said that Qrow is "Ruby and Yang's Uncle" They also said “Ladies, he’s not your man”

https://twitter.com/RoosterTeeth/status/1067205612331782144

 4.  “But what if Summer had feelings for Qrow? Why does Qrow Serve Ozpin?” Qrow said in Volume 6 " No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good... " So he was saying he wasn't wanted, so no relationship with Summer. SUMMER DID NOT WANT HIM. And he was literally saying he served Ozpin because Ozpin gave him purpose. It’s pretty sad how people think Qrow can only be a complex character if he obsesses over another person’s wife and child. What , you wanna make him Severus Snape, the Lilly Potter stalker who insulted a girl’s face and tried to poison a boy’s pet and publicly outed a teacher?

https://rwby.fandom.com/wiki/Qrow_Branwen/Quotes#So_That.27s_How_It_Is

5, "But Qrow could be lying" Except in volume 6 Qrow literally said "Don't lie...we're better than that"

And in volume 7?

" Long time ago. I just found working alone tends to be for the best "

" Gotta say, I’m still not really used to working with other Huntsmen in the field. "

And finally World Of Remnant on Patch.

" Nice place to raise a family, if you're into that sort of thing. "

https://rwby.fandom.com/wiki/Qrow_Branwen/Quotes#So_That.27s_How_It_Is

  6.  “Qrow fans claim that Ruby and Summer form a core part of Qrow’s character and backstory.” WRONG! The main accusation for demanding Rooster Teeth / CRWBY change the backstory for Qrow would accomplish nothing.

Raven already pushed Yang onto Taiyang to raise on his own.

Qrow forcing Tai to Raise Ruby alongside Yang while Qrow could regularly visit, and while Summer lived with Taiyang, Yang, and Ruby?

It would cheapen Qrow’s character….blood isn’t everything.  Neither are cliches.

 7. “But what if Qrow gave Ruby to Tai to raise after Summer’s death?” Volume Chapter 6, Burning the Candle.

Yang tells Blake that she (yang) and Ruby were raised together by Summer and Taiyang…not by Taiyang on his own, but by Summer and Taiyang.

Yang clearly had memories of being raised by Summer and Tai both,  which meant that Summer and Taiyang lived together raising Ruby and Yang for Several Years.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZkN-53h5Os

  8. “Does Taiyang care about Summer or Ruby?” Taiyang was noted to have shut down when Summer didn’t come back…. Yang noted this in Volume 2 Chapter 6, and Ruby mentioned in the first episode of Volume 3 that Taiyang missed Summer. Qrow also said that Ruby is Taiyang’s “Special Angel”…. Ruby has also pointed out numerous times that Taiyang is Overprotective of Ruby. In fact, Ruby's conversation with Penny about overprotective fathers.

 9. “Qrow knows Taiyang is Ruby’s Father. Taiyang knows Ruby is Taiyang’s daughter. Qrow has referred to Taiyang as Ruby’s father during volume 3 and 7. Taiyang referred to Ruby as his daughter in volume 3.

 10. “Why didn’t Taiyang train Ruby in Martial Arts?” Taiyang is a martial arts fighter.   Ruby has neither the build nor the personality for ruthless hand to hand combat like her sister… Taiyang would trust Qrow, despite his semblance.   Remember how bad Ruby was in v5?

 11. “Qrow’s semblance is not what his fans exaggerate it to be”

Speaking of Qrow’s semblance? He was playing video games with his nieces,   taught at Signal Academy,   and could train Ruby… Clearly,  his semblance is not what theorists make it out to be.

 12. “Why doesn’t Qrow treat Yang the same way he treats Ruby?”

Yang is the daughter of Qrow’s sister,who abandoned the team.

During a one on one interaction between Qrow and Yang after yang vs mercury, Qrow called his own niece crazy, after she had been framed.

Qrow was not empathetic to Yang.

Qrow may not like Yang’s resemblance to Raven.

Ruby is the daughter of his two closest friends, so of course he’d prefer Ruby over Yang.

 13.  “Examples of Taiyang caring for Ruby.”

Volume 2 Ruby was excited when Taiyang sent a package in the mail, not even knowing it was Zwei.

Taiyang was at Ruby’s bedside in V3, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

He also tried to bring her breakfast in bed.

Taiyang said he wanted to chase after Ruby, but had to nurse Yang back to health.

During the V8 broadcast, Taiyang was upset when the broadcast was cut.

 14. “Genetics research”

Black hair is the subtype of the pigment for blonde hair…

Also, Ruby’s got the same hair strand that Yang and Taiyang have.

Finally, black hair is more dominant.

So Ruby doesn’t need blonde hair to be Taiyang’s kid.

https://askinglot.com/is-black-hair-a-dominant-or-recessive-gene

https://www.quora.com/If-a-jet-black-haired-parent-and-a-blonde-parent-have-children-what-color-hair-would-the-children-likely-have

 15. “The STRQ Photo”

The photo....Qrow was with STRQ for four years...do you really think Qrow is not allowed to cry on the photo unless he was romantically involved? Can't a man grieve over the death of a female friend that he was NOT in a relationship with? Or are men not allowed to have female friends? Ichigo and Rukia from Bleach for example...friendship. They were his friends, his family. People seem obsessed with the idea that Qrow cannot care about a woman unless he was romantically involved or unless he's their bastard father.

 16. “Men and Women…as friends, platonic” Harry Potter as a book showed that a boy and a girl can interact and still be friends…

Why can’t Qrow be Summer’s friend?

Why does he have to be her lover?

We’ve seen Qrow talk about Innkeeper’s skirt lengths and leer at Barmaids who flirted with him.

Also, he’s shown to be bonding with both Clover and Robyn.

People act like he doesn't flirt with anyone , and yet he does.

 17. “Bad Luck Charm” Qrow has spent his whole life with his semblance, named after a Crow.

Raised by the Branwen bandit tribe.

“You and I are not the same, you don’t want the burden of my name” Both Branwen and Qrow are names that Qrow hates due to his semblance and past…

People may think of him as cool, but Qrow suffers from self-loathing.

So NO, the Bad Luck Charm song does NOT in fact allude to Qrow being Ruby’s father, but that Qrow hates himself, hence a major part of why he’s alcoholic.

Proof of which is his volume 6 exchange with Ozpin about being useful, which Qrow disagrees with, leading him to drink further. Yang literally said that she had never seen qrow so drunk before in v6.

And Ruby encourages his self-worth leading him to try giving up alcohol….

His alcoholism is tied to low-self-esteem, not relationships.

 18. Manga Anthology

Taiyang was shown in the Manga Anthology to have shut down upon Summer’s Death. That impacted his relationship with Ruby and Yang. Qrow? Is relatively unaffected. The good Uncle helping around the house. Taiyang haters and Qrow stans took this to demand that Qrow is entitled to Ruby, despite Taiyang recovering and doing his best to be a father. Anything Qrow does is worshipped like Mother Teresa, while anything Taiyang does, good or bad, is downplayed and smashed. Taiyang loved Summer so much he was devastated by her death. Qrow was unaffected. Think about that.

 19. “I like Brats” Why does Qrow spend time with kids he’s not related to? Because he likes kids. You know how there are adults who enjoy being around brats? That’s Qrow. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Summer, he liked being around her because she was like a kid. Similar to how Blake likes Ruby’s idealism? And trusts her leadership?

 20.  “Taiyang the 2-timer accusation”

A woman on youtube claimed that Taiyang was a 2-timer who cheated on raven with summer, as there was, in her and her friends’ minds, “no way that taiyang could be with half his team” When asked about TaiQrow as a joke, she was angered that people even ship TaiQrow.

But let me ask you this. Are you the same person you are now that you were 10 years ago? People claim that Qrow was somehow cool in beacon…because he’s cool now. But Taiyang, who raises two kids, and holds a job and a house…cannot be ruby’s father…because he’s not cool? And that somehow he was never cool? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had to be cool to be a parent. I also had no idea people were only allowed to be in one relationship per lifetime. Raven freaking abandoned Tai for the tribe. Summer chose Taiyang over Qrow. People literally make Qrow out to be either an OC in a shipping fanfic, or a Naruto fanfic where Naruto is written to be fawned over by a girl whose canonical spouse, boyfriend, or male friend is somehow rewritten as evil.

1 year…..in 1 year since Raven abandoned Taiyang and Yang, Summer Rose the friend of Taiyang’s who he had known for 4 years, became more than a friend.

So no….Taiyang is not a two-timer…he moved on from Raven.

 22. “Why can’t Taiyang talk about Summer?” To WHO? He’s barely got 15 minutes of screentime, and the writers did NOT do him any favors when they had Qrow demand he leave so Qrow could tell Ruby a secret Ozpin trusted him with, before telling Ruby to run away from home leaving only a freaking note. Terrible daughter. Even Yang was prepared to do the same! To a man whose first wife abandoned him! At least Weiss has a legit reason for acting as she does against Jacques, several at least. Ruby? No. Now why would Taiyang talk about Summer’s fighting style to Yang when trying to get her to stop acting like Raven in her fighting style and semblance? Sure if there was more time…but RT at the end of the day isn’t some money-hungry political entity, it’s a startup at the end of the day, they don’t have the ability to do a full anime episode. Also, Taiyang cannot go out on these active missions…he was a schoolteacher who did not do missions until only recently…he was retired, remember.

 23. “These fanworks make more sense to me”

Qrow fans have tried using fanworks to justify their theory or ship, the same way Blacksun fans or Adam apologists make similar claims, and even Raven fans try to claim Raven is somehow a good mother. What do these fanworks do? Hate on Taiyang. Dismiss Ruby and Yang being half-blood siblings. Ignore multiple elements of the show or scenes. Occasionally shit-talk the writers.

Every time somebody tries to make a “rwby rewrite” or “rwby alt” or “Qrow is ruby’s father au” they cannot do it without completely rewriting the characters in so many forms and even the show, till Qrow, Raven, Taiyang, and Summer are NOTHING like they are in the show…And ONLY how a shipper wants qrow to be.

Or rewriting qrow to be nothing like he is in the show.

Most Alt or Rewrite consists of making Taiyang abusive, a cheater, or refusing to allow him to interact with Summer, while regularly pushing qrowxsummer at each other.

So no…it’s not that it makes sense to them through some fanart….a headcanon that has been debunked is no longer headcanon. A theory that is shut down is no longer a theory. There’s a reason anti-vaxxers and flat-earthers still exist. Because to them, their theories make more sense than reality. Which is why people still believe Qrow is Ruby’s father the same way people believe vaccines cause autism. Neither are true, and no amount of facts will shut them down, but they’re both popular theories.

 24. “Qrow Rings and Cross”

People claim that Qrow was married to Summer or that his cross represents him mourning Summer. Did the STRQ photo, in v3, the same volume as his appearance, not show Qrow with his rings, his cross, and angrily scowling, while Summer was right next to Taiyang?

 25. “What about Summer Rose’s choice?”

Remember how I said making Qrow’s character based on solely Ruby and Summer, ignoring everything regarding the tribe and ozpin giving him hope, and the grimm reaper…was bad writing? There’s a reason people hated v5. Raven was proven to be the deadbeat, Qrow was shown to have friends, and that Taiyang knew about Salem, and of course it was confirmed that Yang and Ruby again were sisters by Raven.

Now how about Summer? Team leader….took a man and a daughter who were abandoned by her friend…and made them her own. Yang calls Summer Rose “Supermom” and “Her Hero”…was literally willing to storm a bandit camp so Raven could use her portal to take Yang to Qrow, so she could get to Ruby. And yeah, I know the RWBY critics scream “why didn’t Yang just look for Ruby in Mistral?” It’s a bloody kingdom, and Yang was pursuing a lead, that Tai had given her, and Qrow told Yang he’d look after her sister. Remember that? Oh wait, RWBY Critics forget, my bad. Anyway, she’s more of a sister to Qrow than his blood sister Raven, she’s more of a mother to Yang than Raven, and she’s more of a spouse to Tai than Raven. Good Stepmother. Non-married couple. Relationship built on trust. Blood is not the same as family. (Example Weiss’s remark to her father) (Or Dom Toretto)

So making Summer into a throw-away character who dies so that a brooding jerk of an alcoholic can claim character development? Making a woman nothing except a throw-away for a man to get development is BAD WRITING. For God’s Sakes, even Pyrrha was written better than that! She interacted with team rwby, nora was always helping her out, and so was Ren (though those shakes are a crime against humanity” But when Qrow fans try to demand he’s ruby’s father? Their fanworks make Summer as much of a flat character as Preston Harvey from Fallout 4, where they make Summer unable to do anything but be obsessed with Qrow and having his child, similar to how Preston cannot think of anything other than “Another settlement needs your help, I’ll mark it on your pip-boy”

 26. Finally, the accusations that CRWBY are lying.

“You have to be ****** if you believe CRWBY when they say Qrow isn’t Ruby’s father” “CRWBY is lying, it’s what writers do” “It’s okay for writers to lie, it’s good for plot” “I’d prefer it if CRWBY was lying to us” “Monty is dead, the writers should change it now” “Monty is dead, nothing else in the writing matters” “Monty was hiding the truth from us” “CRWBY is hiding the truth about Qrow being Ruby’s father” “It makes sense for CRWBY to lie to us” Look at this…Twitter, Youtube, Facebook, Tumblr, Reddit, instagram…. The first quote? Was a woman who was using an anti-autism anti-disability slur defending the theory. Never have I ever seen people so obsessed with a  theory that they would deny reality and be rude to the very writers and original creator. But the QrowxSummer and Qrow is Ruby’s Father fandom group has made countless cases of this. THIS is how they defend their theory? And people upvote, like and support these remarks? SHAME SHAME SHAME

 Conclusion:

I get how people desire qrow to be Ruby’s father for ships or fanfics.

Even to where they make Taiyang a hated character just for the sake of making sure nobody disagrees with them.

But the attacking of RWBY and CRWBY, claiming that “this needs to be fixed”, or getting angry at RT for not giving you the non-canon ship you want? Claiming that just because you want it to be so, that somehow your ship/theory has “validity?”

That reflects poorly on the fandom and critics.

But then again…. It’s easy to ignore what’s real and what’s a fact that when theorists and ship-pushers and CRWBY Haters on youtube tells you to stop listening to monty and the writers, and instead believe whatever you want and claim whatever you want, Because surely you know what’s better for the show than the people who worked on it, right? Ha ha ha, no. THAT is the ULTIMATE disrespect somebody calling themselves a fan could ever give. And if you think or agree with that type of logic, you should look in the mirror.

I looked for backup sources to defend CRWBY and RWBY, you’ll find them below.

Backup sources include:

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-is-not-rubys-dad/422o_0rbCYuoXj36VoB7obK3MXPZRbPKkz5

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/why-the-qrow-is-rubys-father-theory-is-wrong/z668_nQlIxu0dmRdRpEPxqE3qlWlZEmoE2

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-cant-possibly-be-rubys-and-heres-why/8BB5_LPVCmu2bonkw8eEP3Yokg8m8zJlgNV

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/why-qrow-isnt-rubys-father/lXXx_5QoUQuPVGo3Wgko3wJ52mMBl7644P

 https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/is-qrow-rubys-father-short-answer-no/422o_0rbCYupDKezxPxpdje7dRn3nB8YvZ

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPbft3KJd6o

https://aminoapps.com/c/rwby/page/blog/qrow-is-rubys-dad-theory-debunk/d33g_pQEcbu1NKQoMEv0kmDpP6N8bmowkkq

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 20

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, drinking, allusions to/mention of sexual content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell @thatravenpuffwitch

We're on the edge

On the edge

We just might be lovers

Dive in to the glory where we'll be out there

~ Takida - Edge ~

With an exhausted sigh, Orion let himself fall against the back of the sofa in the green room. Even now, more than an hour after their second show of the day had been over, he could still hear the roar of the crowd hanging in the air.

The experience of their charity show still fresh in their minds, every one of them had given everything to make their main show just as memorable as the one before.

Catching some sleep had helped with clearing Orion’s mind of the turmoil that had raged inside his thoughts. Although it had been unexpected, he was glad Lizzie had come to check on him. Before she had arrived, he had felt like a leaf tossed in the winds of his memories, unable to catch hold of anything that would help him weather the storm.

But when he had felt her arms around him, her steady heartbeat had been enough to ground him and return his focus to the moment at hand, not the past and not the future. Who would have thought that the touch of her hand alone would be enough to calm him where, on his own, he needed several hours of meditation.

As they did do every so often these days, his eyes wandered over to where Lizzie was chatting with Skye. All the fans that had been allowed to meet them were long gone, one of them leaving hanging on Everett’s arm.

Skye was impatiently glancing at her phone, checking the time. Orion noticed how she made a point not to look to the door, where Erika was standing with an unreadable face.

Lizzie said something to Skye that made her roll her eyes. Sniggering to herself, she made her way over to him; her movements were less energetic than usual and Orion could tell the exhaustion of the day was already affecting her.

She slumped down onto the sofa next to him. “I think Skye and Erika want us to leave,” Lizzie giggled. “Skye said they ‘have some things to discuss’”. She tried to hide her grin behind her hand. Her blue eyes were sparkling with laughter, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“I can just imagine what kinds of topics they would feel the need to cover,” Orion smirked.

Lizzie giggled again, then sighed and sunk deeper into the plush couch. “Me too, but can’t they just go somewhere else? I don’t want to move, I’m tired.” She grimaced as she tilted her head from side to side. “And my shoulders hurt like hell.”

“We could go back and you let me do something about that,” Orion said so quietly only Lizzie would hear, his smile turning decidedly more mischievous. He almost reached out to touch her, catching himself at the last moment.

Lizzie pursed her lips before they curved into a shrewd smile, the one Orion knew meant trouble. She leaned slightly forward so she was closer to him; she was just far away enough to not seem suspicious to the others but the look in her eyes was intense.

“How could I refuse such a generous offer,” she purred before abruptly leaning back again, “but not just now. I want to wind down a little before we go back.”

She stood up and had to take a little extra step to catch her balance again. “Let’s go get some drinks, what do you say?”

Spending time with her seemed a good way to end the evening one way or another, so Orion got up as well and they set out to leave. It felt strange to just go out with her for drinks, they hadn’t done anything like that in ages. But then again, Lizzie had been right earlier; they were still friends after all.

They were just about to walk out the door, when his eyes fell on Merula sitting in the far corner of the room. She was playing with a lighter that was unfamiliar to him. She was staring into the flame burning up from the small device before she extinguished it again. Orion felt a pang of guilt rising up in his chest; he hadn’t even noticed she was still here.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he muttered to Lizzie and made his way over to his foster sister.

Merula only looked up briefly from the flame she had sparked again when Orion stood next to her.

“I thought you were leaving.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“Not without saying goodbye,” he leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her violet coloured eyes. “Are you okay?”

Merula snorted. “Do I look okay?”

“You have a habit of hiding your true sentiments under a mask of sarcasm and spite, so for the inexperienced observer it is hard to tell.”

She let the flame go out and raised her eyes. “And what does the experienced observer say?”

“That you look even more sulky than usual.” Orion indicated the gleaming lighter in her hand. “Where did you get that? You’re not supposed to smoke.”

Merula’s frown deepened at his words. “You’re not Ethan fucking Parkin, but you sure start sounding like him,” she snarled. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, got it?”

Surprised at her tone, Orion raised his hands defensively; he was usually exempt from Merula’s moods. “I never meant to reprimand you. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“Keep me out of trouble?” Merula snorted. Her eyes went to the door through which Lizzie had left a few moments ago. “How about starting with yourself then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t take me for stupid.” Her eyes grew hard as they turned back to him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Orion pressed his lips together; he didn’t like what he was hearing. What was going on between Lizzie and him was supposed to be a secret, yet in a matter of days three of their closest friends had all discovered the truth.

The guilty expression written over his face was confirmation enough for Merula. She angrily stuffed her lighter into her pocket.

“I can’t believe you’re so stupid,” she hissed. “You of all people, risking everything we have like this. And not even telling me,” she added bitterly. “I thought you trusted me.”

“You know I trust you,” Orion answered, trying to keep his voice steady. “But this was not a matter for me alone to decide.”

“Yeah, I see,” Merula sneered, “she’s fluttering her lashes at you and you’re putty in her hands. Doesn’t matter if what you’re doing is the most stupid fucking thing you’ve ever done.”

Her eyes flashed and she grit her teeth. “And seriously, Lizzie? Of all the girls you could have had, why did it have to be her?”

Orion frowned. “Why would you say that? I sense a lot of hostility in your words.”

“Spare me the bullshit, you know exactly what I mean. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but couldn’t you have just done it like Ev and gotten yourself some random groupie? But no, of course you had to go the complicated way and get yourself involved with someone who is strictly off limits.”

She raised her chin in defiance. “You can’t really believe she’s being serious with you. Just look at how she’s acting, she’s flirting with anyone with a pulse.”

Orion was becoming increasingly annoyed with Merula’s accusations; listening to her, it seemed as if she hadn’t known Lizzie for years.

“No doubt, Lizzie is an affectionate person. But you should know her; she is quick to share friendly banter but not her…”

“Her what,” Merula scoffed, interrupting him, “her love? Her heart? Wake up Orion, she’s playing a game with you.”

“No,” he said pointedly, another flare of anger at Merula’s unwarranted criticism. “You misinterpret the situation entirely. This has nothing to do with love.”

Merula looked him up and down for a second. “So that’s it? Just some mindless fucking around? Seems I have misjudged you; didn’t think you had that in you,” she snorted. “Not her though, she’s acting just as I would have expected. I always knew she was a little -”

“Mind your words,” Orion cut her off sharply. He wasn’t able to keep his anger at Merula’s insults to himself anymore. “If I were you I would think well about what you want to say next.”

Taken aback by his sharp tone, Merula blinked at him. “You snapped at me,” she said, looking completely dumbstruck. “You’ve never snapped at me before.”

“You’ve never acted like a petulant child before.”

“I don’t get it; why don’t you see it? That everybody’s darling thing she’s doing is not real, it’s just for show.”

Orion shook his head. His hand went to the pendant around his neck, tugging at it. “The face we show to the world is not always a mirror of how we feel inside. Only because Lizzie doesn’t let people look through her like glass, doesn’t mean she is a bad person. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Fed up with her, Orion turned to go but Merula grabbed his arm, holding him back for just a moment longer.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said, suddenly sounding much softer than before. She didn’t look at him when he turned his head to face her. “This band is the closest thing to family we’ve ever had; she’s not worth risking that.”

*

Orion kicked the door to his hotel room shut with his foot, while Lizzie kissed him passionately. He could still taste the rich flavour of the whiskey on her lips, the bottle they had been sharing dropping to the ground with a muffled thud as she wrapped her arms around him. It landed right next to the jacket she had brushed off his shoulders; she stepped over it and pulled him further into the room.

In passing, Orion bent down and picked the bottle up again and took another sip. The earthy taste filled his mouth and the liquor burned in his throat, adding to the fire running through his veins. Lizzie pulled him closer again, their lips connecting as she kissed the last drops of whiskey off them.

She took the bottle from his hand, and brought it to her own lips, her eyes never leaving his even for a second. When she stepped back into the light falling into the room from the window, he could see there was a drop still hanging on the corner of her mouth; she spread it over her lower lip with her thumb before wrapping her lips around her fingertip, her smile heavy with promise. Orion exhaled slowly; she knew exactly how to drive him insane.

Within a heartbeat he was by her side again, the energy between them drawing him in like a force field. It had been building over the course of the whole evening; the exchange with Merula had left him feeling stirred up and with the last traces of adrenaline left from their show, his body had been flooded with the same restlessness he had been feeling for most of the day.

The strong drinks served in the bar where he and Lizzie had wound up had been a welcome distraction, just like her lingering looks and fleeting touches. It was a game between them she had mastered to perfection.

They hadn’t even been inside his room yet when Orion hadn’t been able to resist her any longer. He knew it was risky as hell to kiss her out in the open, but the sizzling tension between them had clouded his judgement. He hadn’t cared a single bit who might see them when he had pinned her against the door of his room, and judging by the way she had eagerly returned his kiss, neither had she.

It was stupid, it was dangerous and it was just what both of them needed tonight.

Maybe Merula had been right at least in one thing; Lizzie knew what to do to get him where she wanted him.

But she wasn’t the only one knowing him like the back of her hand. The soft moan escaping her as his kisses trailed down her throat was just as electrifying as the roar of the crowd when they were on stage.

She tilted her head to the side to give him better access and Orion smirked as he felt her fingers tangle in his hair. Her body shivered as his hands wandered up her sides from her hips. She let go of him just long enough to let him pull her shirt over her head, his own following just a moment later.

He rested his hands on her waist, which fit into his palms as if they were made for them, before they went up to her shoulders, giving her a slight push towards the bed. Lizzie let herself fall back into the sheets, pulling him along with her, their lips locked in a steamy kiss.

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him even closer, her hands running down his spine.

“We should close the curtains,” he mumbled with the last shred of rational thinking he could muster, followed by a sharp intake of breath when her fingers dipped under the hem of his trousers.

“Better hurry then,” she breathed, teasingly biting his lip. Her words were slurred from the exhaustion of playing two shows in a day and the whiskey taking its effect on her.

Orion reluctantly broke free from her. She leaned back into the cushions and shook her hair out; it fell in soft waves over her shoulders and Orion couldn’t wait to bury his hands in her honey-brown mane. He kissed her one last time before getting up again; leaving her sprawled on his bed like this was feeling like a crime.

He stepped towards the window to pull the curtains close when he saw the figures dancing in the street outside; the faint sound of music was drifting up to him. He stopped and watched them for a moment.

“Looks like there’s quite the party going on outside,” he chuckled.

When he got no response, he turned around and, after a first moment of incredulity, had to bite back a laugh. Lying on the comfortable mattress, the day had gotten the better of Lizzie; her head had fallen to the side, her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. Her slow and steady breathing showed him that she was fast asleep.

Orion laughed quietly; no wonder she hadn’t been able to resist the lure of sleep, even if he was a little disappointed she’d left him hanging. Playing two shows in one day had taken a toll on all of them.

He knew she wanted to be left alone when she was sleeping, but the bed was only so big and he just couldn’t resist when he climbed into the sheets next to her. He gently ran his hand over the curve of her hips up to her waist. He didn’t want to wake her up, he just wanted to feel her smooth skin under the tips of his fingers.

Responding to his touch, Lizzie murmured something indiscernible and turned around, resting her head on his chest. Orion couldn’t help but smile as he carefully covered them both with the duvet.

They had shared the same bed more times than he could remember, even though Lizzie had made a point in returning to her room when they were on tour. Even so, the sight of her sleeping next to him was not new to Orion.

He was familiar with the way she hugged her pillow, and how she couldn’t sleep without the weight of a blanket on her shoulders, no matter how warm it was. He knew how she liked to sleep with the windows open, and that what she missed the most when they were home in London was the sound of the sea.

And still, even after all these months, they had never spent the night together without sleeping with each other first. This kind of intimacy was against all of the essential rules they had established; they weren’t about emotions, only about fun times between good friends. No commitment, no complications, no heartbreak. It was just another way of relieving the adrenaline in their bodies after they had left the stage.

But Orion couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something felt different; that something else had sneaked into their dynamic over time.

He looked down and watched Lizzie sleeping peacefully for a moment. He shifted slightly so he had his arm around her and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. Just like this afternoon, he felt at ease with her in his arms, all thoughts about past and future forgotten. Everything that counted was right here and now, in this moment, just the two of them.

He absentmindedly twisted one of Lizzie’s curls around his finger and thought about what Merula had said. She was wrong, he decided for himself; this utter peace of mind he was experiencing right now, this was worth risking a lot for.

As Orion felt his own consciousness slip, he rested his face against Lizzie’s soft hair. He pressed a light kiss on her head, her familiar scent of jasmine and mint enveloping him and making him breathe her in deeply.

A memory rose from the depths of his mind, an off-hand remark made by him on a hot summer night on his rooftop. As her body was nestled against his, feeling as if it just belonged there, he couldn’t help but agree.

She really was the perfect size.

His lips curving into a smile, Orion drifted off to sleep.

[lostbbygorl]

LOOK WHAT THE RAIN HAS BROUGHT (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

~~~~

The dark gray clouds that hung in the sky perfectly described the mood of the young woman who ran as fast as she could, hot tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, and feet aching out of exhaustion. But no matter, she still ran with her burgundy dress so soaked she was positive it even reached her corset. The rainfall grew heavier and heavier by the second.

At last, Y/N reached the pillars in the vast garden that offered her some shelter. Her back hit the walls with an inaudible thud, and she shut her puffy eyes and felt pure misery as well as icy rain.

Her head hurt and her mind raced with depressing thought after depressing thought after depressing thought… and then anger!

Levi Ackerman was behind her dearest sister, Christa’s, unhappiness!

Christa had previously been madly in love with Ackerman’s bestest friend, Erwin. The entire family was expecting a proposal when Erwin explained his departure from Trost in a letter which broke Christa’s heart. Christa was still mourning over the man as he had left so suddenly and with barely any explanation. Seeing Christa so broken had dampened Y/N’s mood as well, and now that she found out that the man she most hated was behind this outrage, she wanted to burn all his miserable property to the ground!

Speak of the devil.

Just as the rainfall had gotten calmer, Y/N noticed a figure dressed in an expensive black suit approach her. Even in the pouring rain Y/N could make out the expressionless, solemn, infuriatingly handsome face of Levi Ackerman: one of the richest but also one of the most arrogant, rude, and unfriendly men to walk on earth.

Levi’s usually neat hair was tousled by the raindrops, and his usually spotless attire was spoiled by the mud he was trudging on to reach Y/N. Still, the young woman jumped slightly at the intrusion of a deeply vulnerable moment.

Levi didn’t notice the woman’s tears or her red eyes. His mind was too preoccupied with the heavy confession and proposal he had planned.

It was the two of them alone now, just as he had always wanted it to be. Levi took a deep breath, and with a soft gaze, he stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“ Ms. Y/N, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer”, he started, still very much focused on the young woman’s eyes, completely oblivious to her now confused expression.

“These past few months have been a torment. I have come to Shiganshina with the single motive of seeing you, I have to see you”, he continued, surprising not only himself but Y/N as well. Levi had never confessed feelings to anyone, especially not deeply romantic ones. Y/N was different. She made him feel warm. She made him want to come out of his comfort zone, and she brightened his day whenever they met with her charming wit and honesty.

“ I’ve fought against my better judgement, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank, and all these things and circumstances I’m willing to put aside. I ask you to end my agony”, he finished. He thought he made himself very clear. Apparently not.

“ I don’t understand”, asked Y/N, confused and with no hint of anger in her soft voice. Y/N always was sharp and intelligent. 9 times out of 10 her intuition and hunches were right, but god she hoped that wasn’t the case now, as this hunch seemed absolutely ridiculous!

Levi was screaming inside, but as always, maintained his perfect composure. The time had come, and for the very first time, he was about to say three words he had never ever dawdled on in his life.

“ I love you”, he breathed, his stoic expression softening further. His usually cold expression melted into one of sincere affection and hopefulness. But Y/N wasn’t impressed! Her prior anger had returned, and this time, it was more intense than ever! With her mouth agape, Y/N stared at the man in front of her with eyes as wide as saucers.

“ Most ardently”, Levi cut through the white noise that was the rain with his crisp, deep voice, gray orbs never leaving Y/N.

“ Please do me the honor of accepting my hand”, Levi requested.

“ Sir, I”, she stuttered, her mind reeling once more. She was repulsed, but she’d be maintaining her composure too. Y/N decided to gracefully reject his proposal.

“ I appreciate the struggle you’ve been through and I’m sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done”, she said, her tone as cold as ice. Levi was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a cold, curt response to his proposal. Now it was his turn to have his temper rise…

“ Is this your reply?”, he asked still in disbelief

“ Yes, sir”, Y/N confirmed

“ Are you laughing at me?”, Levi asked, his heartbeat quickening

“ No”

“ Are you rejecting me?”, he said, his already pale skin growing paler, making him look like a ghost.

Y/N didn’t know what part of her response wasn’t going through his skull, and decided to make her point clear once more, this time with less civility.

“ I’m sure that the things you’ve told me which hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it”, she spat, riling Levi up more.

“ Might I ask why with so little endeavour at civility I must repulse?”

“ And I might as well enquire why with such evidence of a design of insulting me you chose to tell me you like me against your better judgement”, Y/N spat back, all composure gone.

“ No, believe me, I didn’t mean-” Levi began only to get off by a fuming Y/N.

“ If I was uncivil then that’s some excuse, but I have other reasons, you know I have”, Y/N shouted back, pouring all her frustration and unheard thoughts onto the man.

“ What reasons?”Levi asked, genuinely lost.

“ Did you think that anything would tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined the happiness of my dearest sister, perhaps forever?”, Y/N finally voiced, lips quivering.

Levi made a little “oh”, realizing what put a damper on their possible relationship. Still, he didn’t back down. Levi may have been in love with Y/N, but his stubborn nature and pride made him refuse to let her off. He didn’t let anyone win in a fight, not even Y/N.

“ Do you deny it, Mr. Ackerman, that you’ve separated a young couple who really loved each other, therefore exposing your friend to the censure of the world for caprice and my sister, to its derision for disappointed hope?”, she began again, this time with a slight cry in her voice.

“ I do not deny it”, Levi deadpanned.

“ How could you do it?”Y/N demanded with a soft voice.

“ Because I believe your sister is indifferent to him”, he said honestly.

“ Indifferent?”

“ I watched them most carefully and realized his attachment was deeper than hers”

“ That’s because she’s shy”, Y/N yelled!

Levi took a second to process her words. That may be true, he thought, but still, he wouldn’t give up.

“ Erwin, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly for him”,

“ Because you suggested it”

“ I did it for his own good’

“ My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me”, Y/N exclaimed, shaking with a rage so pure she could hear her heartbeats in her ears!

Levi’s eyes widened, and he was unable to close his mouth. He realized the depth of his mistake, and internally cursed at himself when he realized that this mistake was nearly impossible to fix. But even now, he still had one last argument to make, and this argument was the strongest and most heartfelt of all. Infact, even Y/N didn’t have much in her mind to counter it!

However, before he could speak, Y/N started talking again.

“ I supposed you suspected his fortune had some bearing on the matter”, she accused.

“ No, I wouldn’t do Christa the dishonor”, he denied, almost offended.

“ But it was suggested”, Levi admitted.

“ What was?”, Y/N asked, loudly, her previously hung head now erect.

“ It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage-”

“ Did my sister give that expression”, Y/N was outraged!

“ No, no, no”, Levi countered, trying to calm her down.

“ There was however the matter of your family”, Levi added. He knew it’d make things more heated, but he had to be honest. Honesty, brutal honesty to be specific, was something Levi was always known for.

“ Our want of connection? That Mr. Smith didn’t seem at all bothered by?”

“ No, it was more than that. It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, and even on occasion your father”, he revealed. The look in his eyes was one of regret yet sternness. He knew that his words had deeply hurt Y/N, perhaps more than hers had hurt him. Y/N was grossly offended! How dare this snobby man insult the people she held most dear? How dare he hit her with the cold truth that she herself knew deep down…

Y/N remembered how boisterous and embarrassing her family was being at the ball where she and Mr. Ackerman had first met. Everyone was staring disapprovingly at them, and some of the wealthier attendees had whispered amongst themselves about her younger sisters. Y/N knew her family had a lot of improvements to make behaviour wise, but that didn’t stop her from feeling hurt.

" I’m sorry”, Levi apologized. He truly was sorry, but he couldn’t change the truth or take back his words.

“ You and Christa are excluded from the category I put the rest of your family in”, Levi added, hoping it’d make things better.

It had done nothing, as Y/N still had more points up her sleeve.

“ And what about Mr. Zeke Yeager?”, she questioned. Zeke Yeager had charmed Y/N months ago, and told her about how Levi had wronged him so terribly without reason. The mention of his name had hit a nerve in Levi. What was that expression on his face now? Jealousy, bitterness?

“ Mr. Yeager?”, he repeated.

“ What excuse do you have for your behaviour towards him?”

“ You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns”, Levi seethed, confirming that he was indeed jealous. Levi strode up to Y/N, shortening the gap that was between them before Yeager was brought up. Levi’s eyes searched for any hint of pettiness in Y/N’s. Maybe she was just as stubborn as he was and continuing an argument that should’ve been resolved by now. But no, to his sadness, Y/N’s eyes were full of affection for Yeager, and anger at Levi.

“ He told me of his misfortune”, Y/N said.

“ Oh, yes, his misfortune is big indeed”, Levi scoffed sarcastically.

“ You ruined his chances and yet you treat him with sarcasm”, Y/N noticed with disgust.

Levi wanted to scream and tell her that her impression of Yeager was completely wrong and that she was deceived. He wanted to defend himself, but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Levi’s stubbornness faltered, and he felt that winning Y/N’s heart would be near impossible now. There was so much she didn’t know, there were so many misconceptions she had, and there was so much she had against him rightfully. Levi hid the sorrow in his heart by letting his usual monotonous tone return to his voice…

“ So this is your opinion of me”, he asked, trying to sound calm and indifferent, but accidentally letting a sliver of sadness seep into the question. Y/N noticed everything, but she couldn’t get herself to care about his feelings right now. She was seeing red, but so was he.

Y/N’s silence agitated the man more.

“ Thanks for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might’ve been overlooked had your pride not been hurt by my honesty in a bit of a scruple about our relationship”, Levi let his tongue fly! He knew his words had stabbed Y/N in the same places hers had stabbed him! He couldn’t keep his calm anymore. His patience and grace was tested, and now Y/N would face its consequences.

“ Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”, he questioned, his voice raising with each syllable. Y/N could feel tears welling up inside her again. My god, she hated this man. He insulted her family and status, then proceeded to hurt her pride and scathingly expose it, and now he was showing his superiority complex!

“ These are the words of a gentleman?" Y/N wondered aloud, her glare burning holes in Levi’s face.

“ From the first moment I saw you your arrogance, your conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you are the last man in the world I would ever be prevailed upon to marry”, she yelled! As always, Levi was silenced by a remark made by the spunky, sharp tongued Y/N L/N. Levi’s heart was glass, and Y/N had dropped it on the floor without a care in the world. How could he have been so stupid to think he could lash out at a woman as strongheaded as Y/N, insult everything she held dear, an get away with it with no harm done? Y/N’s glare lost its intensity as she blinked a few times. Her sight didn’t leave Levi, but it faltered. Levi came even closer to her. Even though she had left scars on his heart, even though she had yelled at him and called out every single one of his biggest flaws, he loved her. He wanted her, and he warmed at the thought of being with her. He looked longingly at her lips, then her eyes, and then her lips again. There was no touching, but Y/N was disarmed.

She felt herself softening, and for the first time she noticed Levi’s attractiveness. Like a magnet, she subconsciously felt herself nearing Levi’s lips. She was attracted to him, yes, but she hadn’t forgotten the prior row, and that stopped her from closing the gap between them officially. She didn’t pull away, much to her surprise, Levi did.

“ Forgive me”, he said once again, knowing she wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but still meaning the apology. Now that his head had cleared, all the most miserable emotions hit him like a cane. There was sadness at the rejection, bitter jealousy at Y/N’s affection going to Mr. Yeager, the pain of having one’s pride being minced to shreds, and of course: heavy remorse for yelling such mean things at the woman he loved…

“ I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, madam”, he whispered loud enough for Y/N to hear. And then he walked away without taking a single look back, leaving Y/N to drench in the rain some more.

Y/N stared at his back as he walked away, thinking of the argument and her feelings towards him. She didn’t understand how a man could infuriate her so much, but still disarm her with barely any effort and make her feel intense warmth.

Meanwhile, Levi’s heart cracked with every step he took. His love remained the same, even worse, it grew more severe. He wasn’t sure he had given up on winning Y/N over, but for now, he’d give her space, and pray to any lord up in the heavens who’d listen to him to change Y/N’s opinion on him, and to make him a better, more deserving man so that he could have her and make her happy, and of course: to make Y/N forgive him for all his grave mistakes which had caused this mess.

[shera-dnd]

Pretty late, but here is the winner of last month's fic raffle! Made it like 400 words longer, because I have so few excuses to make content for my trolls, so I gotta make the most of the ones I get.

Anyways who is ready to see how trolls fight when things go to shit.

Storms raged around the fire giant town, but the loud roar of thunder was easily deafened by the booming laughter of a single troll.

“You should have seen his face,” shouted the large blue troll woman, the alcohol in her veins washing away any sense of the noise she was making, “he still had an alligator attached to his ass when he walked out of that moat!”

“Very funny, Talem,” the other troll complained, taking a swig from his mug, “maybe you could have zapped that thing off my ass instead of pointing and laughing.”

“Sorry, Talum,” she replied, “you know I can’t do the zappy thing unless I’m pissed, and it’s hard to be angry when I’m too busy laughing at your dumb ass.”

“Glad to know my sister has my back,” he rolled his eyes and took a big bite out of the large chunk of roasted meat in front of him. It was extra crispy, just how he liked it, “hmmm, you couldn’t get stuff like this back in our village. Can’t roast stuff like this without way more fire than it was worth.”

Their companion at the table, a fire giant who was easily two heads taller than the both of them, said, “gods, you trolls are always too chickenshit around fires.”

“Oh quiet, Cendis,” Talum countered, “you’re literally immune to the thing. You don’t get to talk.”

“There are only two things that can kill a troll,” Talem explained, “fire and acid. Other than that we’re invincible, so of course we avoid that shit like the plague.”

“Well, there is also drowning, aging, curses, actual plagues…” her brother listed off.

“Okay, but other than that there are only two things that can kill us!” Talem insisted.

“Sure,” he nodded.

The giant woman chuckled at that, “so much for the mighty heroes of giant kind, stopped by a tiny torch.”

“Well listen here you little shit--”

Talem’s insults were cut short as a sharp scream was heard outside the tavern, followed by a deafening roar. That...couldn’t be good.

“Talum,” his sister called, but he was already at it. With a wave of his magic, clarity washed over the trio's minds and they leaped into action.

Talem took the lead as they burst out the door, shield first and mace in hand. Crowds of giants, trolls, and ogres rushed through the rain soaked streets, and for a moment neither of the adventurers could see the source of the commotion.

Until lightning struck.

For a brief moment the bright light brought it into view. A massive creature, towering over the stone buildings, its scales as black as night, its roar deafened the world around it, and its wings spread wide into the sky. A black dragon was attacking.

Several fire giants in guardsmen garbs began lobbing balls of flame at the creature to try to force it to retreat. All it did was make it angrier. The dragon opened its maw and a green liquid began to spew from it, reducing the stone buildings to sludge and fowl vapors, and pushing back the outmatched guardsmen.

“You had to open your mouth!” Talum shouted at his sister.

“What!? What did I do?”

“You had to mention acid! You brought this on us the moment you opened your mouth!” He accused.

They were both 2 seconds away from a shouting match when Cendis grabbed their shoulders and yelled, “leave the arguments for after this thing is dead! Talem, what is the plan?”

“Talum, get the townsfolk away from here!” She ordered, “Cendis, take the high ground and aim for the eyes! I’ll keep that thing busy.”

“Are you out of your mind? You just said--”

“I know!” She interrupted, lifting the large round shield she had in hand, “but as long as I got grandma with me I’m not going down that easy.”

With the orders given she charged ahead. The dragon roared as it saw her approach and spewed a jet of its caustic spit, only for it to meet pyre-forged steel. The jet spread around Talem, melting a hole on the stones street below her, but not a drop touched her skin.

Lowering her shield, Talem roared back at the beast. Her rage called to the storm above and it answered. A bolt of lightning came down from the skies and struck the dragon before her. It did little but anger the creature, but that was all it had to do.

From there it was all about learning the beast’s tells. If it swung its claws, or bit with its maw, then Talem would weave and dodge around it. If it spat its horrible acid, then she would hide behind her grandmother’s shield, and all the while she bellowed again and again, calling more lighting upon the creature.

She knew that one mistake could cost her her life, so it was a good thing she wasn’t planning on making any mistakes. And the more she kept it going, the angrier the dragon became, the more aggressively it chased her, the easier it was to get it away from the people of this town and into their trap.

She heard Talum’s whistle, she knew it was time. She ran towards him as fast as she could. The dragon let out another jet of acid, but her shield protected them both, just long enough for him to finish his incantation. A blast of frigid winds shot forth from his staff, making the dragon reel back, raising its head up high.

Right into Cendis’s line of fire.

A large metal bolt flew through the air, and into the dragon’s eye, then another, and another. The beast stumbled backwards and tumbled to the ground with one last loud roar. Talem could almost see the smug smile on Cendis’s face as the giant rested her crossbow - more akin to a ballista in size - against her shoulder.

While Cendis celebrated, the twins kept their weapons at hand, eyes trained on the beast to see if it would move again. Talem approached the beast cautiously, knowing one of them would have to check for vitals sooner or later. That is when she saw the beast open its mouth. She lifted her shield, ready to block the acid jet she assumed would come, but this time she was wrong.

Bones cracked and flesh ripped as the beast closed its teeth around Talem’s shield arm, her pyre-forged shield now uselessly stuck inside the creature’s mouth. Talum weaved another spell, ready to finish the beast off for good, but before he had a chance to cast it, the creature had taken to the sky with his sister trapped in its bite.

Talem gritted her teeth, trying to power through the pain of having her entire body hoisted by her still regenerating arm. Around them the storm still raged on, powerful winds and pelting rain crashing upon them both, lightning setting the sky alight for short moments, before darkness enveloped them both once again.

That is when she felt it, the acid beginning to build inside the dragon’s mouth, threatening to engulf her trapped arm. Desperately she began to grasp for anything to hold on to, anything to give her enough leverage for her to fight back.

Her fingers wrapped around Cendis’s metal bolts, and she screamed.

She could feel the acid reaching her arm, she could feel herself burn away, and this time she allowed herself to feel it. Talem embraced the pain and channeled it all into her anger, her screams morphing into a lourd roar. And once more, the storm answered.

It was as if the entire storm had converged into the tip of that bolt, and shot straight through the beast’s body and down to the ground below, the thunder that followed raged so loudly that Talem could swear her eardrums had popped, and then they began to fall.

Talem woke up the next nightfall with the worst headache of her life. Actually, scratch that, the worst everything ache. She was vaguely aware of her companions shuffling about, of people being called to the room, but it’s hard to focus right now, hard to make out the voices that surrounded her.

Her right hand reached for where her left was meant to be, driven by a morbid curiosity, but it found nothing there. It seemed she wouldn’t be able to use the family’s shield anymore.

“Did anyone die?” She asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Only the dragon,” answered her brother.

Her body relaxed a little. She would miss the arm, and she would miss the shield, but she had survived, they all had.

“Good.”

And she could live with that.

[walkingshcdow-a]

Things That Happened in the Last Three Days at D&D, According to My Notes

Finnegan’s mage hand carried one of Victor (Trevor’s) molars down into a castle ruin because Victor can use his hexblood magic and own body parts as “bugs” to spy on others. There was minimal, “Mmm, that’s gross, babe,” from Finnegan. 

Once Victor relayed all the info, Carlotta went down alone while Finnegan waited for his BF to come out of his magically induced blindness. This meant Lotta taunted the guards into fighting her and killed one almost immediately, then, looked up and said, “Next?”

Finnegan and Victor join for battle. Victor slices a guard in half. Finnegan, hanging back (because sorcerer and also asshole) is very impressed with his boyfriend’s display of swordsmanship.

For a few rounds, Finnegan fails to hit anything. This wouldn’t have sucked so much if one of the Grells didn’t get its poison tentacles in Lotta. And then Victor. Victor passes his con save, but Lotta doesn’t. Incensed, Finnegan begins to firebolt the shit out of the Grell and critical rolls. That son of a bitch is dead and not hurting his loved ones anymore. 

We go back to fighting cultists but that other Grell is around and Finnegan decides it’s going to be his problem as it comes towards him, except Victor rushes it to defend him and stabs it hard. Finnegan puts the cursed thing out of its misery with a swift Chill Touch and rots it on sight with another crit. 

Victor heals Lotta, who is the only one very damaged. Finnegan? Not a scratch. The perks of speciailizing in ranged fire magic. 

Victor realizes the weird symbology the cultists wear match nothing recognizable. 

We find a study and look for useful things. Lotta and Finnegan study a book call “Retribution of the Ancients” and Finnegan gets to tell the party religious facts that don’t have to do with the Selandrine for once. He still defers to Victor for more knowledge because of course. 

Victor finds a chime of opening... and a secret passage full of a cult sweatshop. No thanks. 

We go the other way and find a room with a very dodgy summoning canvas and dozens of bones upon it. While Lotta runs back upstairs to get the book, Victor and Finnegan move the bones off the canvas and discuss the horrors of the cult. They agree Finnegan should take the canvas to disrupt the ritual, since none of us can figure out how to make it summon a friendly god instead. 

We go down the hall and find a prison filled with townsfolk and the knight we met at the beginning of the game. There are also students under instruction by a cultist. One of them looks familiar - the innkeeper’s son! Victor tells him his father wants him to come home and rolls a Nat 20 persuasion. The young man is ready to come with us... but his teacher refuses to let him. We fight.

It’s a short fight. Lotta kills the teacher and hits a cultist. Finnegan “holds” (re: paralyzes temporarily) the other two cult students and tries to persuade them that if they stop fighting, they will let them live. Somehow that works! 

Finnegan asks the baby cultists their names. One, Tayathanu almost refuses to give her name because she sees it as a sarifice for her god. Victor tells her that any god worth serving will never ask her to give up her identity because that god will see the value of her. The other one, Steven, just came for the free spaghetti dinner and has been stuck here. He’s glad to leave. We try to reason with Teyathanu but she has gulped down some of that Kool-Aid. We also try to heal Steven, but we’re not good at it, so Victor tells the innkeeper’s son to take everyone to the healer. Lotta opens the cell with the chime of opening. 

Finnegan recognizes one of the women as the mayor’s sister, Yaeda and she probably has pneumonia and is #Done with this shit. He tells her that her sister is waiting for her and she says, “No doubt with a lecture.” Lotta accuses her of being pregnant with the cult leader’s baby. She (probably?) is not but is definitely insulted. 

As they go through the halls, Victor keeps finding rooms full of bones. Somewhat petulantly, Finnegan says he doesn’t want to go into another bloody room of bones - mostly because he’s carrying the summoning canvas. However, it almost sounds like he thinks Victor trying to perform funeral rites isn’t worthwhile so they squabble. Finnegan has instant regrets, but what’s he gonna do? Overexplain and apologize? Of course not. Instead, he snarks with Lotta in the hall, asking what witty one-liners she plans to use when she kills Vialis. 

The go into a small room and find chests filled with weapons and personal artifacts from the prisoners. Victor takes Sir Veckan’s longsword, the money, and the fancy earrings. 

In the hall, Finnegan invokes his Inspiring Leader Feat and tells the other two essentially that they are badass and there is no one he’d rather kill cultists with. (I didn’t write down what he said). This gives everyone temporary hit points. 

Lotta invokes her Master of Intrigue Feat to disguise herself as a cultist.

Finnegan makes himself and Victor invisible and then sends him a quiet message: “I’m sorry.” Victor finds his hand and holds it in the quiet before battle. 

Finnegan and Lotta stealthed into the "chapel”. Victor went unnoticed by the sheer distraction of the cult leader and his followers. 

Victor shoves a long sword into Lord Vialis, the cult leader. Lotta shanks Vialis. Finnegan shoots scorching ray at Lord Vialis, a Grell, and Faerl, his archenemy who wanted to byuy his house. Vialis is barely standing and Faerl passes out. 

The fight continues until Vialis stuns the party, blinding Lotta in the process.

The effects of the stunning wear of and Finnegan casts scorch ray at the fanatics and Faerl and kills Faerl. He then turns to the cultists and grins menacingly. “That was satisfying,” he says. “Don’t try me.” He successfully intimidates them. 

The battle continues for a few rounds. Lotta stabs Lord Vialis with her rapier and pins him to his own altar. “This is for Sarah,” she hisses. “Sarah?” he sputters and then dies. 

The cultists and grells continue to fight the party, even without a leader and are shown no mercy. 

When the enemies are nothing but blood and corpses, Finnegan takes Faerl’s hat as a spoil of war and heads north. As he leans against a wall, hoping to look cool for his boyfriend, Lotta rings the chime of opening and he falls backwards into a library. Everyone sees him look like an idiot. Then, Lotta and Victor explore another secret library that opened up. The find Vialis’ journals and his family’s ashes, which he’d been using as an arcane focus. Finnegan finds books. 

Over the next few days, there are celebrations in Greenfast for those who have been freed from the cult. While the party clean out the libraries for interesting books, Finnegan asks Victor about vacationing in Greenfast one day and they joke about building a summer home. Funerals are held for those sacrificed by Vialis. Then, upon returning to Waterdeep, the party hosts a funeral for Sarah and the Yellowcrests. Their ghosts appear to say silent thank yous.

Victor says to the party, “If anyone should ask what happened, we shall tell them the greatest story of how Sir Veckan of the Broken Helm defeated the Cult of the Burnt Tongue.” and Lotta and Finnegan, who have too much vested interest in no looking like they killed a Waterdhavian noble eagerly agree. 

@professor-of-predators - DM

 @tinfoiltemplar​ - Victor Trevor

@dirusso - Carlotta Dirusso

@walkingshcdow - Finnegan Silverguard

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

A whole new life

Synopsis: Health check and pregnancy reveal

Warning: angst, fluff, Ivar, toxic family, mentions of pregnancy

Tagged

@shannygoatgruff@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @lol-haha-joke @queenbeeta @didiintheblog

P.S. Anything in bold and cursive is a flashback.

I don't own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.

The healer was very thoughtful under Ivar's watchful eye, ensuring both Vanya and the child in her belly are healthy. The older woman with gray hair and blue eyes confirmed the Seers revelation. The Saxon was pregnant, still early, but there was a little life growing inside her. 

The woman warned Vanya of morning sickness, mood swings, and other things she will experience, but Vanya was deaf to it all. Luckily Ivar looked like he was listening, mostly because he cursed the woman out at least trice after every sentence. All the young girl could think about was their future, she imagined what the child would look like and if it would be a girl or boy. She visualized the little crying babe in her arms that would smile at her, that she would nurse and love with all her love. She swore to be a good mother, better than her own had ever been. Afterall she would have help from Aslaug at the beginning, so she wasn't worried about that. Vanya couldn't help but smile in glee at what the future held for their little family. 

The young couple left the healers hut and went to the Great Hall for lunch. Ivar kept reminding her to watch her step and glared at anyone who got too close to Vanya. If it got any worse with time, Vanya would go crazy. Wasn't she supposed to go a little mad during pregnancy? Maybe Ivar's covering that field so she can concentrate on the babe?

The two sat down at the table, a thrall poured Vanya's cup with water, but she accidentally spilled a little bit on the Princess. "Watch it, you useless cow!"

"It was just water, Ivar. No harm done." Vanya scolded him, smiling in apology at the poor terrified thrall.

Ivar scoffed at that and glared at his wife. "What if she dropped the jug on you, huh? Did you think about that?" He accused her as Vanya shook head at his overprotectiveness. The water didn't even hit her anywhere near her stomach; it was poured on her knee. He was overreacting.

 "Are you alright, Ivar?" Ubbe asked with a raised eyebrow watching his brother fuss. Vanya looked at him with a tired face, silently begging him for help. Yet Ivar said nothing only glared at the table in distaste and betrayal. 

So Vanya took it into her own hands, she looked at the Queen and straightened her back as if to remind herself she had a backbone. "I talked to the Seer yesterday night, as you told me."

Aslaug looked at the girl with one eyebrow drawn up, urging the girl to go on. She was curious about what the Seer had to say if her vision was the only thing the Gods would reveal. 

"I am with child." The whole room grew silent; even the servants froze in their place. Hvitserk stopped eating, his spoon hanging from his lips, Ubbe sat there with wide eyes, Sigurd choked on his ale, while Bjorn blinked dumbly at the two of them. Only Aslaug seemed somehow put together, a small smirk playing on her lips as she smugly sipped her ale. Vanya had a feeling the Queen knew that already.

"A child?" Hvitserk asked, trying to make sure he didn't mishear his sister in law.

Vanya only nodded with an excited smile. "The Seer told me so, and the healer confirmed it this morning." 

"Congratulations then, Skul!" Ubbe called out as everybody echoed his shout and drank from their cups, happy for the couple. Expect Sigurd, who looked bitter. Vanya knew that spark in his good eye all too well; he always seemed like a snake on the hunt before he insulted Ivar. "Ivar's child?"

"Whose would it be? Do you think I would sleep with another man?" Vanya frowned at the jab glaring at the second youngest son of Ragnar. 

Sigurd only shook his head and lifted his cup to his lips; he pointed with at his younger brother and smirked. "Of course not, Vanya. I would never say that. I am just surprised, little Ivar put a child in you, that's all. It is a wonder how a cripple did it so fast."

Ivar threw his cup at Sigurd's head, but the other dodged the hit and smirked sneered at his brother in triumph. "Stop it, you two." Ordered Ubbe warning his younger siblings tiredly. 

"Are you not worried the child will be like him? Poor babe." Sigurd pressed as Ivar looked like he might climb over the table and murder his brother then and there. Vanya put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him while Aslaug scolded Sigurd. The ginger looked at the Ragnarsson in anger that the cheerful news was used to undermine Ivar. 

"It could always be worse, Sigurd. The child could have eyes like you or such a terrible personality. That would be more dreadful." She spat back at him in a fury making the boys look at her in shock. Even Ivar sat back down in his seat, looking at his wife in admiration and wonder. She never seemed more appealing to him. 

Sigurd gaped at the Princess who never had anything bad to say about anybody. "And what if it is a cripple like him? What will you do?"

Vanya clenched her hands in fists, her nails biting into her palm, leaving behind a sharp sting. "Then I will love the child all the same. Who cares if it can't walk? As long as my child will be alive and happy, I don't care. Your opinion means nothing." 

Sigurd continued staring at her, stunned, his mind not comprehending what's happening. He was used to spitting back insults at Ivar, not Vanya throwing some back in his face. The other watched the conversation carry on, curious how it would end. "I am just trying to warn you, Vanya." He tried regretting his earlier mocking. An angry Vanya glaring at him was unsettling. Like a baby duck going feral.

"And if you ever bring a child into this world, I will listen. But you are neither a woman nor an expert midwife. So shush. Do you have anything else to say?" Sigurd opened his mouth as if he were to retort, but Vanya left him no time. "Oh wait, I just realized I don't care." Ivar looked at his older brother smugly, drinking his ale in a silent victory as his wife continued her angry stare, daring the Ragnarsson to say anything. Meanwhile, the other boys looked between the arguing duo as Aslaug smiled at Vanya, wanting to diffuse the tension.

"Did he say anything about if it would be a boy or girl?" She asked excitedly, happy that her youngest son found love and gave her grandchildren. 

"No. He talked of many children and other things. But not about that." Vanya clarified thinking back to the sinister prophecy about her own future and the payment in blood. Aslaug beamed at that reveal, thinking of all the Ivarssons and Ivarsdottirs she would hold in her arms. 

"And what else did he talk about?" Bjorn questioned, more curious about that than any nephews or nieces Ivar might sire. 

"Vanya is meant for greatness." Ivar bragged, holding her hand in his, grinning from ear to ear like a proud husband. Vanya shook her head at his happy tone. 

"It is not a good thing, Ivar. The Seer said the Gods would be paid in my blood. What if he meant my children? They will be my blood." Vanya pressed back, worriedly imagining dead children with red hair and eyes as blue as a stormy sea. She shuddered at the mental picture.

Hvitserk shrugged his shoulders at that and pointed his spoon at the ginger. "Or your brother. Silas is your blood too." Vanya dismissed the suggestion, rather not thinking about death at all. No matter how much she despised her older brother, she had no real reason to want him dead. He was far away, sitting on his throne, probably terrorizing other people now that she was gone. Silas was no longer a constant shadow in the back of her mind that made her shake in fright. He was a distant memory of what once was. 

Silas stood before her with his hands on his hips while Vanya sat on the floor, cradling her bruised cheek as she tasted blood in her mouth. "I am sorry, My King. I didn't mean to." She begged, looking at him with pleading eyes hoping to calm him. If she seemed pathetic enough to him, he would leave.

"How dare you look at me, you wench. I am your King, and you are forbidden to look into my eyes!" He barked at her, his spit flying everywhere. He looked like a rabid dog, contemplating ripping out her throat. 

Vanya cast her eyes back to the floor, seeing blood drip from her lip and onto the floor. She frantically wiped at the stain with her dress, hoping Silas wouldn't see it. "You are a waste of space! Unthankful, filthy, and stupid. Aren't you?"

"Yes, My King. I am terrible and pathetic. A stupid little girl who never learns." She repeated the words he threw at her a few days ago during a lesson like this. Their father died a month ago, and at first, Vanya thought it was his way of hiding his grief. He was King now, which meant many responsibilities and stress. He had no time to mourn. Yet Silas didn't seem to miss King Osmond at all. All he did was scream, curse, beat and humiliate Vanya while the council ruled in his stead. There was never any love lost between them, but it was never this bad.

"That you are! Thinking you could eat before I ate! Are you that mad? The King eats first! The man always eats first! How dare you eat from MY FOOD, from MY TABLE before ME! And you even talk back!" Silas raged, stomping his foot dangerously close to her hand on the ground. But Vanya didn't dare to pull it away, fearing he would kick her for it. Every time his boot made contact with the floor, she flinched in fright. "It was just one grape, My King. I forgot myself." Silas mocked, his voice high pitched as a mouse.

"Well, I will make sure you remember it this time!" He stomped his foot down with more strength behind it. A scream ripped out of Vanya's mouth as he crushed her palm under him, the crunch of bones deafening to her ears. 

Vanya jumped in her seat as the others gave her a worried glance at her pale complexion. She shook her head, smiling at them reassuringly. The ginger wanted to drink to stop the dry feeling in her mouth but didn't trust her hands not to shake. She could feel Ivar squeeze her hand softly, trying to calm her, but it didn't work. Silas was a monster that was still breathing in Slegia, and as long as he lived, so did the memory of her past. She hated him. But she doubted it was enough to want him dead. Yet the idea made her shoulders relax just a little bit. Had she gone mad?

[sage-nebula]

Do NOT reblog, or I will delete the post and block you.

There are so many posts on here about “eldest daughter this” and “oldest sibling that” but there are no posts that talk about what it’s like to be the middle sibling when your oldest sibling is a complete and utter fuckup in basically every way.

I’m technically the middle child. I have a sister who’s 8.5 years older than I am, and a (technically step-)brother who’s nine months younger than I am. My brother became my brother when I was six and he was five, so the “step-” determination is really meaningless, but I added it to explain how he could be my brother when he’s only nine months younger than I am. Anyway. I have two siblings, one older and one younger, and so that makes me the middle child, right?

Well, yes . . . but also no. 

As you could surmise by the opening paragraph, my older sister fucked up in basically every conceivable way. I won’t get into her whole life story here because that’s not my story to tell (though believe me, there are doozies in there), but suffice it to say that every single choice she made is one that most parents would disapprove of. All three of my parents certainly did. And so what do you think happened when it came to me? 

I’ll tell you what happened. 

Because my older sister fucked up in every way one could possibly fuck up, there was a fear, I suppose, or a concern that I would, for whatever godforsaken reason, follow in her footsteps even though the two of us could not be more different in terms of attitude, outlook, goals, et cetera. As a result, if I did even the slightest thing wrong, the punishment hammer came down on me with all the might of Thor celebrating a delicious beverage. I failed geometry in junior year of high school due to an undiagnosed learning disability (along with undiagnosed severe depression and an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, all following years of abuse at my biological mother’s hands), and I was put under lockdown for the entire summer. I was not allowed to leave the house except to go to summer school, I was not allowed to talk to or see any of my friends, or play video games, or watch television, or be on the internet, or read, or write fiction, or do basically anything besides the aforementioned summer school and listening to music. To this day, my parents think this was a good decision on their part even though they now know about the learning disability and myriad of mental illnesses. They think it was a good call for them to punish me like they did.

And so you would say, okay, but if they punished you that severely because they didn’t want you to end up a drug-addicted high school dropout like your sister, surely they would level the same punishments against your brother, especially since you two were so close in age! Well, you would think that, but nope!

Instead, when my brother was around seventeen, he got pulled over and arrested for marijuana possession. (I think he was pulled over in the first place for speeding, but I can’t remember.) His punishment was to have his car taken away for six months. That’s it. He still had all of his other privileges, was not punished in any other way, he just could not drive for six months. He got in actual legal trouble, but he was still allowed to have hobbies.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that my brother should have been punished more harshly, per se. I’m only saying there was a stark difference in the way that we were treated that my family refuses to acknowledge or own up to even to this day, and it all comes down to the fact that I was never cut slack in either direction. If I was compared to my older sibling, then the fact that she had screwed up so royally in basically every single way meant that I would be made to stand at attention so I could be yelled at for an hour for failing a math class, and then continue to be berated and insulted for how I was clearly never going to college (I have a master’s now, by the by) because of it over the next few days, and yelled at further for having “nothing to say to myself” in the face of all the lecturing. But if I was compared to my younger sibling, why, then it should be expected that he always gets off easier, because he’s younger than I am and the baby of the extended family and, well, I’m older and more mature, so I can handle it better, anyway. And I mean, I guess, for the record, true; I took my punishment in silence because as a victim of child abuse for basically my entire life I never stood up for myself against my parents back then and always just stayed quiet to try to make punishments worse, whereas he threw fits about having his keys taken away every single day for those six months, but also we have to consider how “mature” one really is if that “maturity” stems from a decade and plus some of child abuse.

Because see, that’s the thing, and what has made me really start thinking about this the past few days. I mentioned it on twitter, but a week ago I got into a fight with my mom (stepmom, the better of the two) over politics that has effectively led to her disowning me, I think, which in turn means that my dad has disowned me as well, I think, because I’m pretty sure he’s going to take her side on this one. I won’t get into the actual subject matter here, but the long and short of it is that she accused me of “attacking” her when I wasn’t, and has since then refused to speak to me, even when I tried to offer an olive branch by texting her that fine, I wouldn’t talk to her about politics, but I still loved her. She left me on Read. So the way I see it, she’s not talking to me until I apologize, and I won’t apologize, so she’ll never talk to me and I’m just effectively disowned, I guess. It’s not exactly the first time I’ve lost a parent, and actually, it’s kind of in the same way as the last time.

Fifteen years ago, I left my abusive biological mother to live with my dad and stepmom. (I’m going to keep using stepmom to keep it clear from here on out, just as I use biological mother, even though I do call my stepmom “mom” and consider her as such.) At first my biological mother kept trying to reach out with her pity party guilt tripping about how lonely she was and how much she needed me and yadda yadda, but in the last phone conversation we had, she called me a traitor for leaving her. Keep in mind, I was 15, and she was abusive to the point where the neighbors could hear every profanity and threat she screamed at me from down the street. They told me this. They also told me they always thought about calling CPS, but they never did, but whatever. The point is, on that last phone conversation, she called me a traitor for leaving her. I told her that I wasn’t. She said that I was. I told her I didn’t have to listen to that. She said I did. I said I didn’t, and hung up the phone. I expected her to call right back to curse me out . . . but she never did.

That was fifteen years ago, and we’ve never spoken since.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to speak to her. Actually, the one time it looked like it might happen (at my sister’s wedding), my Fight or Flight response kicked in when I saw her walking toward me and I bolted. I had a panic attack so bad I felt like I was going to vomit. It’s really embarrassing to admit that, but it’s true. The only time I’ve seen her since was at my nephew’s high school graduation (which is the only graduation she got to attend for anyone directly related to her, since my sister dropped out and she didn’t attend mine), but although we made eye contact I looked away pretty quickly and, again, didn’t speak to her. Again, I don’t want to speak to her, this isn’t me complaining, I’ve not lost a single wink of sleep for the fact that she never reached out again despite how my dad likes to go on and on about how she should have “never stopped trying.” (But also, he never picks up the phone to call me for a chat either, despite always telling me how I should call him, so.)

But I just can’t help but notice the similarity. Once again, I have a mother who is refusing to speak to me because she feels I’ve wronged her in some way, and if I want a relationship, then I have to be the one to reach out (even though I already did, but was left on Read, so she wants me to reach out in a very specific way that she won’t even articulate). This isn’t the first time that she (and my dad) have done this, either. When I studied abroad in London, we got into a fight over something stupid over Skype, and I hung up the call. I was 19/20, so you know, not fully mature, but expected to be. Two weeks of silence passed before I had to call them to apologize, because even though their daughter was in a completely foreign country and, hell, could’ve been dead for all they knew, they wanted to Teach Me A Lesson, with that lesson being that unless I behaved the Right Way, they wouldn’t be there for me. And I guess here we are now, about eleven years later, having come full circle with that.

And you know what? I’m tired of it. 

Because here’s the thing about being the second child when the first child is a fuckup in every way: you are expected to not only not fall into those same pitfalls, but also to excel in every single possible way. Not only in terms of grades or whatever else, but also in terms of emotional maturity and support for the parents. This veers into the abuse I experienced, I know (at least some of it), but you know how I mentioned that my biological mother kept going on and on about how much she needed me and whatnot? This is because instead of treating me like her daughter, I was instead treated like her combo maid-servant-therapist. It was my job to wait on her hand and foot when she was home, whether that was through fetching her coffee or being in charge of the refrigerator remaining operational (this sounds specific because it is; when I was about 13 the refrigerator broke and she yelled at me for a.) not knowing it was going to break and b.) not doing anything to prevent it breaking), but also she laid out all of her problems to me day after day, month after month, year after year. Do you know how many times I had to sit and listen to the “your father ran out on me after 22 years of marriage” speech? And when I finally asked her if she could stop she yelled at me because I clearly let him badmouth her but I wouldn’t let her do the same. (He actually didn’t, and neither did my stepmom. She was the only one remaining bitter.) She “needed” me because I was the emotional pillar on top of which sat her own degrading stability. The second time I told her that I wanted to live with my dad (because I told her to her face that I wanted to switch the custody agreement twice, and got browbeaten down twice, before I finally left in secret and didn’t tell her until I was already at his place), she picked up smoking cigarettes again after having quit smoking while she was hospitalized for undiagnosed diabetes and told me that it was my fault that she was smoking again, because I had stressed her out so badly by telling her that I wanted to leave. And like, one, obviously I wanted to leave, is there any question of why I wanted to leave or why that wouldn’t make me just want to leave more? But also two, the point I’m getting at here is that it was always about her, always about her emotional needs, never about mine. My emotional wellbeing was never a priority in that house. I was always expected to be there for her, that was my entire purpose as her daughter. 

With my dad and stepmom it was obviously different, and in a lot of ways it was better because, god, I hated having to be the recipient of the constant stream of stress and misery from my biological mother. My dad and stepmom had each other, so I never had to hear about their woes for the most part. But at the same time, look at what happened when I failed geometry; instead of looking into seeing if they could get me diagnosed with a learning disability, or maybe actually listening to me when I said I felt “burnt out” and pushing a little harder for me to go to therapy, my dad instead yelled at me for an hour and several days after, insulted me, told me I was never going to succeed, and put me under lockdown for the entire summer, cutting me off from my support network of friends. I came from a background of 15 years of abuse, and one fuckup a year or so later lead not to a reexamination of how I was doing, but instead a severe punishment so that I “wouldn’t do it again.” I couldn’t pass a math class in university and in my final year I finally broke and went to my parents about how I really wasn’t going to graduate college because of it, and they agreed to pay to get me examined for a learning disability which, whoops, looks like I had! And my dad still blames me for waiting for so long to get diagnosed and not telling him sooner, when the last time he found I failed a math class that summer lockdown happened. He still hasn’t put the pieces together between that lockdown and why I didn’t tell him about the math classes I failed in university. Amazing.

My point is, with my dad and my stepmom, it wasn’t so much that they used me as an emotional sponge or pillar, but rather that they were pretty much uninvolved so long as I performed adequately, and was the model daughter they could be Oh So Proud Of, but the moment I slipped, bam! Go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not contact your friends. My emotional needs were still not a priority because it wasn’t about whether or not I was okay, but whether or not it looked like I was doing okay in ways that were quantifiable, such as my grades. And I mean, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly keen on opening up about my feelings at that age and I was a pro at masking how I felt and acting like everything was fine because my biological mother would berate me on the car rides to school each morning to the point of tears, and then would yell at me more about how I better clean myself up because god help me if any teachers saw me crying, which would make them think she was a bad parent and that, too, would be my fault. (Protip: Washing your face with very cold water helps clear away the puffiness around the eyes that can be a tell you’ve been crying.) But even so, again, that puts the responsibility on me to do the Right Thing so that they could be there for me emotionally as my parents, and that is just—

I’m so tired of it, man!

I have had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of one. Never. My stepmom once tried telling me that she and my dad would love me unconditionally when I was a teen and she was trying to get me to admit I was a lesbian (funny thing is, even I didn’t know I was gay at the time), and my dad walked through the living room and, not even knowing what we were talking about, was like, “No we won’t.” So that was great. But the thing is this whole thing proves that she was full of it, too. Because they tolerate me being gay (while still trying to set me up with men), but because I won’t apologize to my mom when I haven’t done anything wrong but she feels like I have, she’s giving me the complete and total silent treatment until I do. Because I didn’t perform in the way I’m supposed to, because I wasn’t The Mature One, I’m being cut off. Because it’s my job to be The Mature One, because I was always The Mature One, because I never had any goddamn choice in the matter and the dysfunctional environment I was in when I lived with my biological mother (+ my sister, her baby daddy-now-husband, and their two very young children whom I was often put in charge of despite being in middle school at the time because their parents were often too busy doing drugs and/or sleeping to care for them) required it. Because I had to be Kept In Line so that I wouldn’t end up like my sister, but also it was just me that had to be kept in line despite how close in age my brother and I were. And again, I’m not saying that I wish my brother had also been punished harshly, but more that I wish that, you know, maybe some mercy could have been doled out to me, except it wasn’t, because I had two siblings on either side to be compared to and as a result one toe out of the line resulted in a smiting.

But in the end, it isn’t even really about that. This post isn’t really about how I’m simultaneously the eldest daughter but also the second child. It’s more about the fact that I’ve had three parents and yet have never had the unconditional love of even one, even from the one who said I had it. It’s about how my emotional needs were never a priority for any of the parents in my life. It’s about how I basically had to raise myself and it’s a real goddamn wonder I’m not even more screwed up than I actually am because of it. And it’s also about how I really miss therapy and haven’t been able to go for a long time, and I think this rambling stream of consciousness post proves that I really, really need to find a new therapist so I can go back again, because goddamn.

Anyway, once again, do NOT reblog this or I will delete it and block you, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I need it to stay here. Thank you.

[sweetwritertanya]

Noble Heart (Part 5)

A/N: This is the last part for the series ‘Noble Heart’! For anyone who reads this, thank you so much. This was supposed to be a quick passion project of mine and ended up taking longer than I thought (which is what usually happens, to be honest). For a while, I really didn’t know if I would finish it, but the story was pretty much done in my head, I just had to put write it down, so I forced myself to do it and end it like I wanted to. Again, if you read this thank you very, very much. My original characters stories aren’t as popular (which I totally understand), so anyone who reacts to them makes my day! Hope you all liked this one!

Summary: The newly-wed life is nothing like you expected. Mostly because you wake up to find yourself alone for the first few weeks after your wedding. But Augustus has his reasons.

Warnings: The last part of this story (I would say the last third) is SMUT and the beginning starts with a bit of ANGST! As for the smutty part, this fic will include: erotic body touching, unprotected sex (because back in the day there was not all the wonderful protection you should use!), fast sex, rough sex, sex on top of table.

Word Count: 3636

As you found out, the life of a noblewoman was ridiculously overromanticized and astonishingly overrated.  Life roaming long hallways, footsteps echoing in tall ceilings, wandering around a big house filled with servants but feeling lonelier than ever. You would have never guessed this would be your routine as a newlywed bride.

Oh, the first night was all you ever assumed it would be and so, so much more. Flushed skins clinging together, loud kisses and breathy sighs, indescribable pleasure shared and taken. A world of wonderful passion and sensual gratification you had never known that ignited fireworks explosions in your brain. Hurried movements chasing an addictive high you only had a taste for but was already hooked on.

The first night was everything and all you had. Because the next day you wake up to an empty bed and the news that your husband left for a trip that would take about five days.

Your heart sunk and the cold reality seemed to crash down on you, pressure making it hard to think straight. The biggest fear you had seemed to have come true. You had been used. Now that he had obtained his title, Augustus was leaving you behind. You had fulfilled your purpose.

Five days turned into a week, and then to two. Ashamed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to even confide in your own family about it. You mother was so happy and relieved with your marriage; your sisters were fantasizing with their new life, having a duchess for a sister; your father was comforted with the notion you got married out of your own choice, no longer bothered with a pestering guilt of his own inadequacy for the head of the family. How could you break the joyful lights glistening in their eyes when they saw you? You couldn’t.

Therefore, you swallowed your tears and walled your heart. Requested the maids to help you move your clothes to another room. Stayed inside when you heard the unmistakable sound of a carriage approaching the mansion, stopping by the front door. Inconspicuously peaked through the tall window with a clear vision to the front door and recognized your husband getting indoors.

Jaw clenching together in anger, you sat down on your table with the book you had been reading, not paying any attention to the letters in the page and instead sharpening your ears. In his very much distinctive manner, the footsteps you had been half expecting never came, making you jump in your chair at the soft knocks on your door. This silent man would give you a heart attack someday.

“Adela? Are you there?” His voice resonates in the hall.

You close the book but remain stubbornly sited, not even sparing a glance at your bedroom door. He didn’t deserve even that much.

“I was told you moved your possessions here. I believe we should discuss some matters, Adela. Could you please open the door?”

The pleading doesn’t dither your decision. You were sure nothing would make you open the door for that man that used you so coldly. And yet, his next words did.

“It’s been two weeks. I missed you, Adela.”

It’s the last drop, tears accumulating behind your eyes that lock on to the wooden door with absolute anger and incredulity at his audacity. You stand up from the chair so quick it falls with a loud racket to the floor, your heavy feet marching towards the door you swing open in rage.

You curse yourself for that first split second when you see him, the squeeze of your heart at the sight of the honey-colored eyed man raising his stare to you, almond hooded eyes widening round, mismatched lips opening slightly and evoking memories of how they felt on your skin, covering your mouth. His warm body and skilled hands.

But it was only for a split second. The wound he created, still bleeding open in your chest, calling you back to reality.

“Do not dare to try and fool me again, sir Augustus” you spit out, name still tingling in your tongue but now leaving a bitter taste. “Whatever it is you want for me now, I still have enough self-worth to refuse. Don’t insult me with empty words, sir. I will never flatter myself again by thinking you might harbor any amount of truthful feelings for my person.”

“Adela-” he tries to interrupt, one hand raising up to touch your arm, making you jerk it back before he reaches it. He freezes at that, a guarded mask you were used to see in him at first coming back, hiding his emotions from showing in his oblong face.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” he asks, eerily still.

“I believe n-”

Just as you were about to answer negatively, a commotion is heard from downstairs, a loud unfamiliar voice calling out words you couldn’t quite understand, hushed down with multiple voices of servants overlaying it.

Augustus rushes down the hallway and you find yourself following him, sensing the palpable concern in the air. The end of the corridor leads to the stairs back to the ground floor, into the entrance. You stayed upstairs, observing from the shadows as Augustus ran down the stairs into the ruckus as three servants tried to keep an older man you had never seen from entering further into the house.

“Stop! Let go of him.” Augustus orders, the servants obeying cautiously.

From your advantage point, you could barely see the older man’s face, but you could tell he had dark brown hair, now greying at the sides, and was wearing simple clothing. He seemed to straighten up as Augustus came close, not in a threatening manner but more in relief.

“Gus” the man called.

“I told you that you would not be welcomed here. You haven’t been for years. Go back home, Father.”

Your mouth hangs open at the revelation that this was Augustus father, the one he barely mentioned at all before from his family. By the tone of his voice, the relationship was torn, at the very least.

“Son, you do not belong here. You know what that man did to me, what he did to our family” the man begins to plead, reaching out for his son’s arm.

“He tried to keep you from marrying an unworthy woman by all means possible. And he was right to do so” Augustus argues, voice seemingly calm but his rigid back and fisted hands told you he was holding himself back. He would probably be shouting if not for the maids witnessing the discussion.

“How can you say that!” His father exclaims, obviously frustrated. “Because of that man, you ended up marrying for title and money! How could you say that!”

That hurt. Your heart pinched painfully and you had to press your hand against it, keeping it from breaking apart in your chest. It was something you already knew, but hearing it from someone else made it stone clear.

“You do not know what you speak of!” Augustus proclaimed, raising his voice by now. “Do not throw your own insecurities my way, Father. You are the one who married a woman that only wanted you for power and money! I am nothing and will never be anything like her, you should know better!”

“But… But you told me you got wedded! That you were the Duke now, I don’t understand.” The man was visibly confused and distraught. It was obvious his son’s words hurt him.

Augustus took a deep breath, silence filling the house for a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, as if tired of this conversation already.

“I explained it all when I visited you, Father. But I see now that you didn’t listen to a word I said” he accused, spent. Holding himself back up, he stared at his father in the eye with determination. “The marriage might have started as of convenience, nonetheless it is now of choice. I love her, Father. Much like you loved Mother before she left, once she realized you were no longer wealthy.”

With that, Augustus turned his back and took the first step up the stairs, looking sideways to the servants and telling them to guide the man back out of the house. When he reached the last step up, he looked at you, standing paralyzed at the end of the corridor, mouth slightly open and eyes wide in shock. Avoiding your eyes, in what you could only assume was a form of embarrassment, Augustus turned to the second corridor where his room was and left you standing there for what seemed like hours, your brain tracing circles around those words you weren’t sure you heard correctly.

Love. He said he loved you.

It was later that evening, sun already setting and the grey night darkening the sky, that you heard a soft knock at your door. It was not locked nor was it closed. In a signal of compromise, you only left the door leaning on the frame. A silent invitation to come in, if so he wished. Which he did.

“Can I come in?” he asked, in a lenient tone.

You straighten in your chair next to the round table, blood rushing with nerves and adrenaline beneath your skin. For hours you had been expecting him and still unsure of how to procced if he ever came.

“Yes. The door is open” you allow.

The tall man walks in, deliberately slow and closing the door behind him, a few papers in his hands. He still seems to be avoiding your eyes.

“I believe I owe an explanation to you” he starts saying, glancing back up at you in time to catch you arching your eyebrow at him. So, he corrects himself. “I definitely owe an explanation to you.”

You nod and gesture for him to seat at the chair opposite to yours in the small table. You equally craved and dreaded to hear what he had to say. Taking your offer to sit, Augustus leans back on the chair and sighs before commencing.

“The last few weeks, I went back to my home town. It was only supposed to be a few days, but some matters took longer than expected. I should have warned you before I left, should have waken you up and say goodbye. I realize how foolish I was to just disappear like that. I’m sorry.”

You press your lips together, holding your hands tightly together in your lap, still very much hurt by the manner of which he left, but nod for him to continue.

“In order for all the documentation for the wedding and the inheritance to go through, I needed some papers that were still at my Father’s house. Getting them back was more problematic than I thought. As you may have realized, he wasn’t too pleased with my decision to get married and made life very difficult for me while I was there.”

“I noticed, yes” you confirm.

“Yes, well, what matters is I did end up retrieving all I needed and officialized everything. The inheritance. Our marriage. It’s all accordingly to the law’s requirements, now.”

“I was under the assumption it already was” you bitterly respond, aggravated he never told you anything was at miss.

“I’m sorry, Adela” he apologizes again, eyes set on his lap. “I wish I knew better. I have never been wedded before, I’m not sure how to act. I didn’t have a marriage to look up to when growing up either to guide me.”

Empathetic with him, remembering the words he shouted at his father about his mother, you sweeten you voice and show him understanding.

“I heard about that. I’m sorry, Augustus. Wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

He smiles up at you at that, a small smile that still feels sad but conveys gratitude for your words.

“There were a few other matters that held me up before arriving” he shares, a bit livelier now. “I wanted to present you with a thoughtful wedding gift. According with our conversation before, I though you would be interested in something like this.”

He presents you with the papers on his hands for you to hold and read. Frowning you take them, about to tell him you had no need for gifts until you read the first paper. You gasp instead, holding the papers closer to your face in disbelief, going through them astonished.

“This… This is…” you can barely get your words out, tears starting to form behind your eyes.

“Documents stating you now own a three-story building that is currently being used as an orphanage. I recall your idealist visions of helping the less fortunate children by running a school dedicated to them. If you are still interested in that, you could work there and make your ideas come true. That is, if you still want to.”

“You remembered…” you whisper, still staring at the papers, incredulous. None of this was what you had been expecting for him to say, even in your wildest imagination you never came up with such an excuse for him to have been gone.

“Of course I remember. I-”

He stops himself there, short of what he was about to speak. So, you glance back up at him, eyes glistening, and finish what you had the strongest intuition he was about to say.

“You love me.”

He doesn’t deny it, he doesn’t shy away. Augustus keeps his eyes set on you, guarded but unclear emotions crossing behind the honey colour. Decisive, he gradually gets up from his chair, takes the two steps needed to reach you, takes your face in his hands and pulls it up as he leans down to kiss you.

You melt into it, missing so much more than you would ever admit his kisses, chasing after his lips when he lifts his from yours only to clamp them back together. Augustus pulls your face up and you follow his lead as you get up from your chair, one of his hands falling from your face to your back and sliding down to your plushy waist, leaving a highway of heat behind.

Your arms slide up his and surround his shoulders, pushing him closer at the same time he deepens the kiss, taking advantage of your open lips gasping for air and swirling his tongue around yours, shivers breaking free up your spine at the feeling. He pulls your soft form close to his, missing his step and pushing you against the edge of the round table behind you. The hard edge bruises your rump so you end up pulling yourself up on the table, sitting on it.

Mouths still chained together, rough callused hands roam your plump body from the curve of your neck to the swell of your covered breasts, to the feminine round waist and down your fluffy legs. Fevered skin and breathless whimpers leave your covered lips at his touch, memories flooding your brain of your wedding night and the delicious pleasure he brought you.

But this would prove to be so very different from that night, when he took his time and worshipped your body before taking you to new highs over and over again. No, this time he was famished and impatient, craving your body around him that he had been removed from for so long, just as he finally had you.

The hands at your calves rise up, taking with them the dress that ends up polling at your lap, meaty thighs and simple knickers on display for him. The damp stain indicated how much you wanted him too, no matter how mad you had been with him.

Before you know it, he pulls the knickers down to your ankles, tugs his pants and underpants barely halfway down his thighs and slides the rigid lance that had been forming against your slick slit, hips moving back and forth as he coats himself in your juices. You gasp at the haste of it all, still very much new to these endeavors and unsure of what to expect.  But the way he starts moving only brushing himself on you, the thick pubic hairs prickling a sensitive pearl at the top of your lowest lips, it drives you mad and you moan out loudly, something you would have been ashamed of if any servants were to hear.

Augustus kisses your neck and pays particular attention to the lobe of your ear, that he discovered to be a sensitive spot on your first night together. At the same time he sucks on it, he takes himself in hand and plunges in, one strong thrust that fills you of him to the brim. You wail into his neck and claw at his shoulders.

It’s rushed, and dirty and hot all at the same time. Sloppy kisses, rushed movements, breathless respirations and lustful sounds fill the room. Augustus takes no time to build it up, his ramming is fast and deep, hands cupping your ass cheeks on top of the table to keep your pelvis in place as he hammers at it. Closed eyes and open lips salivating, you feel each thrust with enhanced pleasure and the side of his engorged crown keeps sweeping at a spot that persists on pulling your muscles tighter and tighter and tighter.

The table rattles at every thrust, your moans raising in pitch as you come closer to your end, Augustus’ breathing turning into throaty groans. You arch your back and blindly place one hand at the table, ending up throwing the papers down to the floor. Your breasts look as if about to burst out of the deep cleavage of your garment and Augustus dives his head in between them, sucking and biting without losing his brisk pace.

Mere minutes is all it takes, so unexpected and unlike what you’ve experienced before, for your stomach to drop and an explosion from within yourself drowning your body in heaven-sent pleasure, your legs contracting and clasping your husband’s lean hips in place, fingers digging in to his skin, head thrown back in bliss, closed eyes seeing the universe behind them. Your inner muscles flutter rapidly around Augustus’ length and pull him to the edge with you, his seed stuffing your womanhood with his seed in warm pumps.

You both end up sleeping in that room that night, apologies and lovely confessions hushed under sheets, warm bodies tangled together, lips swollen with lingering kisses. The next morning, head resting on top of his shoulder, fingers playing with the few hairs gathering at the top of his chest, you voice the questions swirling in your head.

“How long have you loved me?”

He takes a second or two before responding, eyes still closed and arm around your back pulling you closer. You glance up to see the small smile on his lips.

“Since you told me you would not marry me” he answers.

You frown, confused, fingers freezing before resuming their task.  

“Which time?”

“The first time.”

“But… wasn’t that the first day we met then?”

“Yes.” He opens his eyes then, looking down at your jumbled expression and kissing your forehead. “It started when we talked in the garden at the back of your house. As you stated your aversion to wed someone for money or a title.”

“Truly? That soon?” You could not believe it.

“For all my life, I thought women would jump at any opportunity to gain power and money. You proved me wrong and I was a little taken back at first by how open you were about it. How you refused me straight when I was sure anyone would agree to my proposition.”

His hand moves up to rub at your shoulder. You look back down at your hand on his chest, moving up and down with his respiration.

“Well, I told you directly, I am not a noble woman. I don’t act like one either.” There was a hint of insecurity behind your words that he quickly caught up.

“I’m glad you are not a noble woman. I much prefer the prodigious noble heart you possess. That was what lured me in. Not your title.” He assured, turning to his side and pulling you close to his chest in the same motion.

“Would you have married another woman if I still refused you?”

“As much as I hate the idea of my grandfather’s inheritance ending up in a stranger’s hands, I suspect I would not have been able to go through with the marriage if I truly despised the woman. If you had told me the day we got married that you had changed your mind, I would have let you go and give up on all of this. Although, I must admit, I’m incredibly glad you didn’t.” You both chuckle happily at that.

That same morning you move back your belongings into the main bedroom, back with Augustus. As much as you would have liked to say there was never another fight that led you to move away from the bedroom, for the years you and Augustus were married you had plenty of times you returned to that room away from him. Out of anger or of hurt, you took your things and got back to that room for the night.

However, that room would not be remembered as the fighting room but rather the make-up room. Every time you two would fight, that was where you would eventually forgive each other, apologize to each other and make-up, kissing away any arguments that lead you there in the first place. More than nights spent alone sniffling, the room was bursting with memories of nights enwrapped in your husband’s loving arms.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 2

The Boy Who Lived

Lily stooped down, and picked the book up slowly, gazing hard at the year before slowly looking around at the others. Then she marched back down to the dungeons.

"Evans, what are you doing!" James protested as he followed her. "We should stay together, we have no clue what's going on-"

"As if he's ever needed a reason to be around her," Peter muttered to Remus as the whole group followed, Sirius and Regulus trialing at the back reluctantly.

They entered to find Lily already fast at work, with James still talking at her more than anything and Peter and Remus hovering uneasily behind him and still looking anxiously around like they were expecting an attack. Alice and Frank were shifting anxiously in place just as uneasily behind Lily with absolutely no clue how they'd gotten involved in this but deeply regretting whatever this was.

Sirius just perched on a stool as far from everyone as he could while Regulus slumped against the wall even further away, feeling even more out of place than the couple.

Lily ignored them all, running back to the still empty cauldron. She dropped the book back in it and turned to the student supply cupboards and began pulling ingredients out.

"Lily, what are you doing?" Alice decided to try since Potter was being so thoroughly ignored.

"Reversing this," she said flatly.

"You're insane," Frank pleasantly informed her, he knew fellow Ravenclaws who wouldn't dare try such a stunt as reversing this problem without a teacher present.  His claim was backed up by Pettigrew.

"He's right, we have no clue what got us here. You're good Evans, but even you're not good enough to create the counter potion for something that more than likely was just invented!"

"Well I'm certainly going to bloody try rather than standing around here doing nothing," she hissed as she began cutting up some roots.

James snatched the book out of the cauldron before she could dump anything on it, and huffed, "well fine, you do whatever you like then. I'm going to see what all of this is about," and he began the iconic first line of the series. The moment he had, the next appeared. "The book's called Harry Potter, and it starts with something as lame as Muggles," James pouted as he again checked the front cover.

"You think anything not about you is lame," Remus rolled his eyes at how this was starting.

"What are you doing anyways?" Alice decided to ignore the boys commentary on how boring this muggle life sounded in favor of asking Evans, who seemed the only one keen on getting them out of this.

"Retro Diebus," she answered without looking up from the spiel she was carefully inserting into a fruit Alice couldn't identify. Then again, she'd never been as good at Potions, or Herbology for that matter, a great disappointment to her head of house she was sure. She would be quite glad to drop both classes if not for her Auror training. It was a good thing she'd found Frank to tutor her, and well...

"I have no clue what that means," she confessed aloud before she could get lost in thought.

"It's going to reverse what Lupin did," she said with utter confidence.

"Are you still blaming this on me?" Lupin couldn't help but yip in protest. "It's not my fault you didn't banish your potion like everyone always does. You're as conceited as you accuse us of being, always keeping samples of your own work to try and improve upon them."

Lily flashed him a look that lesser men would have shrank away from, but James was still ignoring them all and continuing, as well as he really didn't want to see this fight progress. Lily's work thankfully kept her attention as she began stirring ingredients in her very precise method and so didn't take the opportunity to shoot back at Lupin.

She was being diligent as always in this class, even Potter reading about all these mysterious happenings revolving his name or whatever mess was going on. Admittedly she did look up with the same hope the rest of the room felt at the mention of You-Know-Who being gone, but then she dismissed this as whatever insanity was going on with the rest of this castle. Things would make sense if she just finished her work.

However, her hand slipped on her knife she was using to chop up a Nether Wart, and she sliced her finger deeply at the mention of Petunia, and a sister.

"Evans, you okay?" Frank asked in concern as she sucked in a breath and waved her hand frantically to rid the burning pain.

James had instantly dropped the book and rushed to her side, genuine concern in his eyes, but she snapped at all of them, "don't mind me, it's just a cut."

She pulled her wand and prodded the angry flesh, which sewed itself up nicely thanks to her advanced charms work, but then she made a guttural noise of frustration at seeing her brew ruined, smatterings of blood turning what was once a bright white potion now pink.

"You sure you're alright?" Alice insisted after Lily banished her wasted attempt and kept using other curses that weren't magically related.

"I said I'm fine," she snapped, causing Alice to raise her hands in surrender and back off and Frank to scowl heavily at her.

"Hey, don't snap at her just because she's trying to help. No one needs Snape in here."

Lily fearlessly matched his scowl and looked ready to go for her wand again at what she deemed as an insult to her friend. She couldn't understand why Frank would say such a thing, but then to her shock Potter came to her defense first.

"Lets everyone just cool it, we're in an odd situation here." He spoke first to Frank, but then turned to Lily and offered her more roots to begin again. "Here Evans."

She took them carefully, as if fearing they'd take off her fingers next. "I don't need your help, or defense," she snapped at once. Then, she glanced again at Frank who was heavily rolling his eyes, and honestly just to prove him wrong about her and her best friend, as an awkward form of an apology she didn't seem able to spit out, she finally explained herself instead, "err, that was my sister's name. I just, wasn't expecting it to show up-" she stopped herself abruptly and returned to her cutting table, only pausing to say to Frank and Alice, "sorry," before starting her work again.

James simply looked elated at having learned something new about Evans, that she had a sister. He found the idea fascinating, and exchanged a happy look with his mates, but then he remembered why Sirius wasn't quite meeting his eyes and quickly kept going through the awkward silence.

"Knew there was something about that cat," Peter interjected, even if they had already figured this out for themselves. "Not sure why McGonagall of all people is hanging around though."

"If Dumbledore's there, I'm sure we'll get answers to everything," Remus said a little wistfully, wishing their headmaster was here now so they could be getting that sooner.

James read eagerly through the rumors and oddity surrounding his son, Harry. He quite liked that name, he decided, though he wasn't keen on all this talk about what some possible kid of his could have to do with Voldemort. He skipped right over Dumbledore saying the name and ignored everyone else flinching around him like they always did, he found it ludicrous to be so afraid of something like a name, even if he'd yet found anyone to agree with him. Even his best mate, rebellious in all the same ways as him, had it far to ingrained from his parents and still twitched uneasily, though James still refused to look at him now just to mock him like usual.

All of this news was trumped though, when McGonagall said a very simply sentence that meant the world to him.

"Prongs, you okay," Remus prodded him when he just stood there, frozen. "I know this is probably more words than you've read in a lifetime-"

"He's probably overloaded himself," Peter snickered indulgently.

Still there was no reaction, and so Remus once again took it away and easily read up to the part James had stopped, then he too couldn't seem to spit it out with a comically torn expression in place. "Well, err, I'm confident we now have proof these have no bearing on our life."

"What's this?" Peter asked eagerly.

Remus shrugged and tried to read the passage, but James snatched it back and declared as if saying his vows, James and Lily Potter.

Remus gave him a pitying look though, ignoring Lily's splutter of protest and Sirius falling off of his stool from laughing so hard, and asked him, "did you read the rest of that?"

"Eh?" He said in confusion, before finally finishing the sentence and under other circumstances the juxtaposition of his expression would have been hilarious.

"Okay stop, just," Evans raised her hands up as if the motion alone would do this, and it was clearly working. "You've done many insane things man, but claiming us to be married and dead in the same sentence is a new one for you."

"He's not making this up," Lupin defended, while Black was still laughing and Pettigrew looked just as gobsmacked as Potter to be doing anything.

Lily just kept staring at them like she was waiting for a punchline, until Regulus spoke up.

"I can see it."

"Excuse you?" She spluttered.

Regulus shrugged without remorse as he tried to address her, though he was looking just slightly to the side of her, likely from the awkwardness of going from never having spoke to someone to explaining why he'd believe a love story. "I just, I can see you finally caving into someone like Potter, you two are quite the same."

He gave a sideways look at Sirius and didn't elaborate. Sirius' humor had dried up some and he gave his little brother a loaded look right back, he felt there was something off in Regulus' delivery.

Evans just looked scandalized now. "Well I'm so bloody glad you approve!" She missed the look on his face that starkly said something otherwise as she turned back to shouting at Potter. "I however am going to get us out of this insanity and stop fantasizing about Potter knocking me up!"

James honestly looked a bit hurt she wasn't giving this a second of consideration, and turned back to the book miserably. All he could hope now was someone popping up and explaining this mess better than whatever Dumbledore's next tosh was about no one ever knowing.

The only good thing left was Hagrid's arrival and mentioning Sirius, on a motorcycle of all things but that was the least surprising bit he'd heard of lately. He was honestly just happy to even hear of one of his friends in this mess of a story considering everything else that was going on.

James finished the final sentence just as Lily was moving to dump the final ingredients into her cauldron. The pot sizzled for a second, then this time there was a bright flash of light, and all eight of them felt an extraordinary tug upon their very soul and were flashing through nothing, and everything.

HPHPHPHP

So yeah, hope you guys liked! Hope I established everything alright? Any questions you have ask away and I'll likely answer them so long as I feel they're not spoilery for future plot points of this. Can't wait to keep going with this!

As a fun game, I'd love it if you all predicted where the next chapter was going to be, it would greatly amuse me!

[dhwty-writes]

Chapter 12 - Intriguing Intruders and Intruding Intrigues

Ah, yes. Welcome to chapter 2. No, you didn't read that wrong. This begins with the second scene I've ever written for this AU. We've come a long way since back then, especially considering that it was only a little under two months ago and this fic has since taken over my life. Also, thanks as always to @persony-pepper​  for betaing! Now enough of me rambling, here's the chapter:

Summary: Jaskier's liege lord comes to Lettenhove and our beloved ex-bard is struggling to keep it together.

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"Where is he?" Jaskier panted, wincing at how his side ached after sprinting up a flight of stairs. He used to be able to hold his own against a witcher on a horse, for Melitele's sake, what had happened to all that stamina?

"Beggin' your pardon, m'lord, I don't know," Marta answered, her eyes widened in panic. "I've been lookin' for 'im for the past hour. He's nowhere to be found."

"Shit," he cursed, startling the surrounding servants. "Fuck!" he cursed again, just because the first one hadn't been enough to actually voice his frustration. He kicked the wall and howled in pain. "Fucking shit! Start over," he ordered. "I want that damned witcher and I want him now! Marta!"

"Yes, m'lord?"

"Is my cousin presentable yet?"

"No, m'lord."

"Then see to it that she is. You have half an hour; the green dress, if you will."

He turned on the heel and raced down the stairs again, cursing quietly. He shouldn't be surprised, really, that Geralt chose today of all days to all but disappear from Lettenhove. 'That's not fair,' he reminded himself, 'you didn't know eith-'

"Fuck!" His foot slipped on the slippery stairs and he would've taken a tumble down the stairs hadn't he collided with a bulk of muscle.

"Careful, my lord," Geralt said, and held him firmly by the shoulders. "Else a twisted ankle will be the least of your worries."

"Geralt!" Jaskier started a futile attempt to wiggle out of his grasp. "Where have you been, you donkey?"

"Training your horse, my lord," he replied, making no move to let go of him. Instead he calmly looked around, taking in the bustling servants. "What's going on?" He pulled him closer to the wall, to let two men hauling a heavyweight chest pass through. "Are you preparing for war?"

'If only.' He scoffed and smacked at Geralt’s hands. "No. Witcher, you need to leave."

"What?" That finally made him soften his grasp, though he did not lift his hands, nor did he move from where they were crammed onto the same step. "Why?"

Jaskier passed a trembling hand through his hair. It was sweaty already, not a good way to start the day when- "There are guests on their way," he explained as calmly as he could. "I don't know which of my imbecile neighbours chose this exact time for a visit, but there's nothing I can do about it now."

"And why do I-" His hand shot out and caught a young lad by the elbow. "Are those my swords?" he growled menacingly. The poor boy looked as if he might piss himself.

"Yes, I- Geralt!" He tried prying the butcher's hand away without too much success. "Let go of him this instant, you're frightening him!" The witcher complied slowly. "Stop glowering, they are acting on my orders. And you, run along now, and hurry up for Melitele's sake!"

The lad took off again and Geralt crossed his arms and glared. "Why?" he asked again. "Where's he going with them?"

"To your new rooms in the North Wing. Ci- Cousin Fiona is also moving, she'll be living with my sisters." He waved his hand dismissively, cutting him off before he could even start to speak. "It wouldn't make sense otherwise. I wouldn't leave her with you when Józia and Janka are there to take care of her. And as my best friend it's only natural for you to be accommodated close to my quarters."

The witcher frowned, still not convinced. "Why do I have to leave then?"

"Because I do not know who is paying me a visit and what intentions they bear. No-one will look twice at dear Cousin Fiona, but you-"

"My lord, there you are," Jakub came to a halt a few steps below them.

"What?" Jaskier snapped.

"Your visitors. They're bearing the banner of Hangfelt."

Fear gripped him like an icy hand, choking the air from his lungs. "Fuck." He'd known this was inevitable, but still- "Go, Jakub, inform the kitchens right away. I will not be accused of lacking hospitality." He manservant bowed curtly and hurried away.Jaskier turned to follow him.

Geralt caught him by the shoulder again. "What's so important about Hangfelt?"

Jaskier winced. "That's my liege. You need to leave, now."

He frowned. "I don't understand-"

Jaskier was beginning to lose his patience. 'Gods above and below, he's been roaming this continent for almost a century. Should be more than enough time to get a basic grasp on petty politics,' he thought. He almost told him so, too. Almost. "That's not important right now," he hissed and tried to push him away, "we're running out of time."

The witcher didn't seem overly impressed by this display of his measly human strength. "Please, my lord, let me try-"

"You don't need to understand!" he snapped, and Geralt visibly recoiled. If nothing else, it did soothe Jaskier's temper a bit. Wiping his sweaty hands on his breeches, he tried to explain: "My liege, Geralt. Lettenhove is his castle. If he suspects something, anything-" He took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he continued: "If he demands that I hand you over, I won't be able to refuse. I won't be able to protect you from him, do you understand?"

Geralt paled visibly. "Fiona-"

"She'll be fine, she's family. Protected by my name and castle peace and all that. No-one can lay a finger on her without my leave. The Count is not a bad man, he won’t hurt us and break the law: we’re protected by King Vizimir’s peace. But you are not. So, witcher," he straightened himself, "you need to go."

He set his jaw and the grip on his shoulder tightened. "My lord."

"Take your swords and a cloak, and for Melitele's love, stay out of sight. Of his guards, and his men, and most importantly himself. I'll come find you in the woods once all of this is over. Alone. Do not come seek me if there is another person with me." He faltered, taking in Geralt's squared shoulders, his kind eyes, his attentive expression. "I-" Suddenly, the urge to exchange the grip on his shoulder for a tight embrace to calm his fluttering heart became very hard to fight.

"My lord?" Geralt's voice startled him from his trance. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered curtly and bit down hard on his tongue, to shake those ridiculous thoughts. "I have places to be, witcher, and so do you. Unhand me and leave."

Very slowly and very reluctantly Geralt did as he was told and freed Jaskier from his grasp. He allowed himself to wonder, only for a moment, if Geralt might have felt overcome by the same sort of sentimentality. 

'No,' he told himself decidedly as he sprinted down the stairs of his tower, 'do not think about that. You're Jaskier the Bard, not Jaskier the Fool, Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove. If Geralt had no affection to spare before, he surely won't have any now.' 

In the courtyard, what appeared to be the entirety of his staff was bustling around, all doing their best to make the castle presentable for its rightful owner. 

There weren't a lot of orders for Jaskier to give, they all knew what they were doing. The air was filled with the rich smells of half a hundred different delicacies to flatter Lord Hangfelt's noble palate,  and servants hauled casks of wine and ale alike that would surely not even see the first snow. Wiktor was making space in the stables for at least a dozen horses more, as Jakub was berating some chambermaid for one reason or another. It was a good thing Jaskier had already warned them that his visit was rather imminent after his return from the disastrous parlay. That way they weren't completely unprepared.

Still, he winced at the memory. The meeting hadn't been dangerous or anything, gods forbid, he'd never have brought Ciri if there had been so much as the slightest sliver of the chance. It had even been fun, truth be told, until the Baron had begged a word in private with him. Unpleasant didn't even begin to describe the whole affair.

"Why?" Jaskier had asked cheerfully, "Are you afraid to get your ass handed to you by a little child again?"

Daniel of Dergetten had frowned at that but not dignified it with a response. Not until he had sent Ciri ahead, at least. Then his old childhood friend had leaned close and hissed: "What on earth are you playing at, Julian?"

"Me?" he had laughed. "Nothing, dear friend. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"What happened to your sharp wits? Fucked them away on the Path? I thought the man who graduated summa cum laude from Oxenfurt would know better than to believe himself the only one capable of thinking around here."

"Speak plainly."

"Sheltering a witcher in Lettenhove, Jaskier?" he had mocked. "Beneath a mantle of protection that is not even yours to give? Aleksander hasn't forgiven you for your last insolence, yet. What was the year again? 1252? This impertinence might just be enough of an insult for him to finally set you aside. Unless-"

"That's quite enough, Dergetten," he had bristled.

The bastard had only smiled. "Is it, Pankratz? I know where my loyalties lie, as does the Count. Do you?" The memory of his smile choked the air from his lungs. 'Foolish,' he told himself, 'you're a foolish man, Julian Alfred Pankratz, to think you can hide a secret such as this from your liege.' Which meant, there was only one thing he could do.

It was true that Count Aleksander Milas had been lenient in the past when it came to Jaskier's particularities that distinguished him from the rest of his peers. He quite liked his songs, had even encouraged him to tutor his son - which Jaskier had firmly declined - and he hadn't given him too much of a hard time for his prolonged absence from Lettenhove. Upon his return his liege had only laughed, not cruelly, when he had knelt at feet to beg his forgiveness for his negligence. And when his father had died, not two days later a servant had summoned him to Hangfelt to swear his fealty — despite Jaskier's protests that his sister Janina would be much better suited for the title.

"Nonsense," Lord Hangfelt had answered, "how could I accept her oath when the rightful heir is right here?"

So, he had sworn, and Hangfelt had promised a visit once the mourning period was over. He was only off by three days, probably spurred on by Daniel of Dergetten's dutiful report, the little traitor. As a consequence, though, Jaskier was still dressed all in black, as were his sisters. Ciri's green dress was an almost offending speck of colour when she stepped out into the courtyard.

"There you are," Jaskier exclaimed and strode over to her to put an arm around her shoulders. "Come, you'll stand at my left side."

She nodded and together they crossed over where Janina and Józefa were already waiting. The four of them surely made a pretty image, he thought, all of them with their pale skin, dark hair and bright eyes. 'Ciri fits right in,' he noticed, satisfied with the illusion he'd conjured. 

Waiting like this, prettily lined up for their lord to inspect like cattle on a market's day, was torture of the cruelest kind. The urge to fidget hadn't been this strong in him since before he'd left. Images of memories long forgotten flooded his mind, the five Pankratz siblings diligently queueing before their father's high chair to receive his judgement after a day of deeds and misdeeds. It had always been him who had misbehaved most, if wandering off in his mind and quietly humming as he worked could be counted as misbehaviour. It had also always been him to step forward to take the blame and consequences for whatever crime his sisters had committed. It hadn't been his fault more often than not. 'My responsibility to bear nonetheless.' 

When he finally found the strength to abandon those hurtful memories he bowed down to Ciri. "You'll have to curtsy," he informed the princess quietly.

"I know," she replied, barely moving her lips. Absentmindedly he wondered how many stiff ceremonies she had already suffered through. 'Surely too many,' he determined. 'Even one is one too much.' "I've seen it many times."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You do know how, don't you?"

She grew rigid under his touch. "Of course!" she repeated. "I've seen it many times!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. It was Jakub who saved him from the embarrassment of having to explain to a princess how to bend her stiff royal knees. "They're here, my lord," his servant told him quietly.

"Good," he answered. It wasn't good at all. Still, he shouted: "Open the gates!" He heard Jakub repeat his order, and then Marin, too, and then the large winches sprung into motion and opened the heavy oaken gates for the Count and his companions.

As soon as the winches stopped moving, a party of roughly fifteen riders poured into the courtyard. A standard bearer came first, then the Count himself, along with his son and heir, the spitting image of his father. Well, if one ignored the fact that his father was in his forties, overweight, and balding, and not a strapping lad of fourteen years- 'Oh, fuck no, you won't,' he thought and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened.

Behind them followed some brothers or cousins or friends Jaskier couldn't quite remember from his youth, half a dozen guards, and- He nearly cursed out loud when he saw there was a woman riding with them. 'Hangfelt, you bastard.'

To his deepest regret he had to postpone his harangue, though, because Aleksander Milas, the Count of Hangfelt was already dismounting and it was time for their act to begin.

Jaskier stepped forward to greet him with a smile as if he was an old friend and not his garroter. "My liege," he said and bowed with a flourish, "Lettenhove is yours."

"Pankratz!" Hangfelt laughed and displayed his crow's feet for everyone to see. "How good to see you again!" He pulled him into a tight hug that made it difficult to breathe. "How have you been?"

"Fine, my lord," he gritted out and did his best to make a sad face, "as much as the circumstances allow it. Though we are still very heartbroken for the passing of our father."

"And I expect no less, my loyal servant. Which is why I postponed this visit as long as I could. I would not want to disturb your grief."

"You could never, my lord," he answered but the Count had already moved on to his sisters, who were still curtsying deeply. Jaskier nudged Ciri with his elbow to get her to do the same.

"My dear Lady Goldfurt," he said as he beckoned Janina to rise. "I see you still enjoy your brother's hospitality. Is your husband's town so unappealing?"

"Not at all, my lord," her voice and smile were icy, "I am only here to help my brother settle in. He has been away for so long; he hardly knew his way around the castle upon his return."

That made Lord Hangfelt laugh. "Is that true? Have you forgotten all about your home while away on your little adventures?"

"Hardly, my lord," Jaskier forced himself to say. "But it is good to have familiar faces surrounding me."

He nodded. "And what pretty faces those are. Lady Józefa!" He kissed her on both cheeks and Jaskier found himself admiring her self-control. She didn't even flinch from his slobbery mouth. "Has your brother still not found you a husband, Madam?"

"Alas, he has not," she answered jovially, truly an accomplished actress. "Though I trust he will soon correct that mistake. Come spring, perhaps?"

"Sooner still, I hope. I would love a spring wedding. Speaking of weddings, you do remember my sister, Pankratz? The Lady Alina Milas."

The lady in question dismounted her own horse and came over to them. She was Aleksander Milas' step-sister, almost two decades younger than her brother, and the heiress to a rich estate. And his betrothed, whom he had stood up one beautiful autumn evening in 1252 on their wedding day. 'Shit,' he thought and bowed to kiss her hand. This day was growing worse by the minute. He didn't let that show, though. "How could I not? Is it me, Lady Alina, or have you grown thrice as beautiful since our last meeting?"

"Surely I have," she answered coldly. "I was six years old when you last saw me. Though not for lack of opportunities, I remind you."

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Hangfelt just laughed again. "Look at you, Pankratz! She hasn't forgiven you, yet. Well, maybe it is not too late. You are still unmarried, I've heard."

"I am. Though let us not talk of such a joyous occasion yet. You see, my sisters'-" He halted for just a moment, shooting them an apologetic glance. "- delicate nature is still rather frail after our father's death. I wouldn't want to disturb their mourning with festivities."

Lord Hangfelt pouted, which looked ridiculous on a man of his age and size. "You speak of mourning, yet still you have invited guests to your house. I think we haven't been introduced yet?"

"My cousin, the Honourable Fiona Nowak. I met her three years ago in Verden and, after I heard the war had left her orphaned, I had her brought to Lettenhove. It has lessened our grief greatly to have her with us."

Ciri rose from her curtsy and let the Count kiss her knuckles. She obviously had learned self-control from Józefa, for her face didn't so much as twitch. "I am terribly sorry for your loss, Madam."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," she answered and Jaskier could feel the whole courtyard hold its breath, "it was not your sword that slew my mother."

Hangfelt blinked for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I see the family resemblance now! A steel-tongued brat for our silver-tongued lordling. Have you given up your verses and songs yet?"

"Almost, your Lordship," he answered with a forced smile, "there is only one person in the world who might move me to a ballad these days."

"A lover?" he teased.

'If only.' "An old friend."

He frowned. "Not the witcher, I hope."

Jaskier forced himself to smile. "Precisely him."

"Speaking of steel and silver and ballads, then, where is he? Has he left so soon again?"

"Not at all, my lord. Though, he left before sunrise this morning. He does not like to spend the days in company, especially not while he is mourning."

"Mourning?" one of the members of Aleksander Milas' party called. "Are you quite sure he can even feel?" Roman, he remembered the brat was called, the Count's youngest brother and just out of his swaddling clothes when Jaskier had left.

'I am, you prick, and I am quite sure with such a comment you'd have angered him enough for him to gut you for me. He can feel just fine.' He pitied that he couldn't say that to his liege's brother. Instead, he opted for: "I believe he thinks himself guilty for the death of Princess Cirilla."

"Ah," the Count said and dropped his voice compassionately. "I've heard the tales. They say she was raped by half a hundred men before the bastards killed her."

His eyes grew wide and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened. "My lord, not in front of the child, if you please," he said just as quietly. "She's gone through so much already."

"Of course." He straightened himself. "Speaking of children, have you met my son, yet, Pankratz? Aleksander, Lord Retton."

"I'm afraid I have not." Jaskier bowed again, when the lad stepped forward, looking very out of place with his gangly limbs, too large ears and peach fuzz on his upper lip. 'Gods, and I went to Oxenfurt at that age!' he recalled. Twenty years later, the thought of sending a child to that place filled him with terror. He was glad that the boy could not see the grimace on his face. "At your service, my lord."

"Rise, Lord Lettenhove," he said with a thin voice. 'Gods, he's nervous,' Jaskier thought with amusement. "You, uh, have a beautiful castle."

'What pretty lines he has learned.' He had a hard time not smirking when he answered: "I am pleased to hear that. Are you looking for a new keep for yourself, my lord?"

The lad frowned deeply, obviously not understanding the jape. "Not at all."

"No? Are you then making plans for the future, my lord?"

Helplessly and quite confused Aleksander the Younger looked up at his father, who in turn had a hard time to keep from laughing. "Enough of the teasing, Pankratz," he chided softly. To his son he said: "I told you to guard your tongue with that one. Twisting the words in your mouth is his easiest exercise."

"I would never, your Lordship," Jaskier said quickly, smiling openly now.

"Now, don't add lies to the never-ending list of your sins. We're hungry and we're cold, so keep your mouth shut and lead us to your hall and serve us your best wine. We've deserved it."

Jaskier bowed again. "It would be my pleasure." He turned to his former betrothed. "Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour of accompanying you?"

She scowled and for a moment he feared she might decline, but then she took his offered arm. After a glowering stare of her elder brother she even dignified his formal phrases with equally stilted responses as the Count led the way to the hall as if he owned the place. 'Which he does,' Jaskier reminded himself.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Aleksander the Younger stumbled over his words to ask Ciri to walk with him, who graciously accepted and giggled stupidly. Then, as she took his arm she made a barbed comment that the boy did not understand but that made Janina gasp in thinly-veiled horror. He couldn't quite rid himself of pride welling up at that, despite the curtain lecture that surely waited for him once the Count left.

In the hall Jaskier hurried to pull the lord's chair back for the Count and tried to ignore the jealousy seeing him at the head end of his table, his heir at his right-hand side. 'You never wanted the stupid title anyways,' he told himself, 'so there's no reason for jealousy now.'

He himself sat down at his liege's left, with Lady Alina at his side. Opposite to them was Ciri next to Aleksander who looked just as miserable as Jaskier felt. As soon as the other guests had resolved their brief argument about who got to sit next to Józefa and had all settled into their seats, the food was brought out.

It was a lot, much more than needed to feed such a small party and Jaskier felt a little bad for wasting it. But that was the way things were and he could do nothing about it. So he had his guests’ plates and cups filled and kept full, maybe a bit too much so. Roman Milas was drunk before the hour was up.

After lunch the Count got up. "I'll be going on a hunt," he declared, "and you will come with me."

Jaskier's head snapped around. "Excuse me?" he answered with a frail voice.

"I believe you understood me quite well. We're going hunting, Pankratz."

'What for?' he wanted to ask but didn't dare to. It was late in autumn already, there were no hunts this late. Besides, there were no hounds in Lettenhove and they hadn't brought any with them either. 'We're not hunting for game, then,' he thought grimly and fought the urge to divest himself of his lunch again. "Of course," he answered instead. "My pleasure."

He left Ciri and Alina with his sisters and led the Count and his friends outside again, praying to all the gods he knew. He prayed that Geralt had finally learned how to listen to a fucking order. He had no idea what his liege could want with the witcher — and he had no desire to find out either.

It took all his carefully composed self-restrain not to let the anxiety that roared within him rise to the surface. ‘He’ll be fine,’ he told himself, ‘he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. He has to be.’ Instead he tried to busy himself with what he did best: telling stories. Joyously he japed and jested, and he would’ve jigged to, were his feet not planted firmly in his stirrups. 

Aleksander the Elder called for all the raunchy stories of his time in Oxenfurt and he gladly delivered. And when he and his friends doubled over in their saddles with laughter, Aleksander the Younger appeared at his side, shyly asking whether he could tell him about the Academy. The boy wasn’t stupid, Jaskier soon discovered to his surprise, on the contrary. ‘He’s just young,’ he realised, ‘and it can’t be easy to find your voice with a father as loud as his.’

Still, the worry in his chest did not subside and he kept looking to the sky, where the sun inched towards the horizon far too slowly for his liking. Apparently, the Gods had heard his prayer, for they returned some hours later with empty hands and empty stomachs. Dinner was hastily brought out for the hungry hunters and after that the nobles retreated to the fireplace room in the East Wing.

Hangfelt claimed Jaskier's armchair and Aleksander Geralt's, so Jaskier was left standing awkwardly for a moment before begrudgingly retreating to the divan where Alina sat. Like that he was forced to continue the polite conversation, that quickly turned into the dullest interaction of his entire life, until she mercifully begged her brother's leave to retreat for the night.

“You may go,” the Count conceded. “Aleksander, go with her.”

“Father,” he whined pathetically, “you promised I could stay.”

“I promised you could stay the evening,” he growled. “The evening’s over, which means that women and children are going to bed.”

Jaskier hid his smirk and jerked his head in the direction of his sisters and Ciri. The princess was on her feet already and floated over to their guests. “Lord Retton,” she curtsied quickly, “Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour to show you to your rooms?”

Aleksander the Younger frowned and Jaskier smiled proudly. There was no way the young lord could politely refuse such an offer and he damn well knew it. So, he and Lady Alina went with Ciri and his sisters, and left Jaskier alone with Hangfelt and his men.

That finally gave Jaskier the opportunity to talk to the Count himself. "Lord Hangfelt," he said quietly, "might I talk to you in private?"

He scowled but nodded graciously, and allowed Jaskier to lead him to his study. "A drink, my lord?"

"Gladly," he answered as he sat down in Jaskier's chair by the window.

Jaskier poured two goblets of his best liquor — he'd need the courage — and brought them over to his lord. "Your witcher hasn't returned," he remarked as he accepted the drink; their cups clinked together, "and yet it is already dark. He's not very well trained."

"He's not an animal," Jaskier exclaimed indignantly before he could stop himself, "nor is he a prisoner. He may come and go as he likes."

"Not a very grateful guest, then, if he doesn't even come to greet his host's lord."

He clenched his jaw, desperately trying to think of a witty response. He wasn't fast enough though, for Hangfelt continued: "Hm. So, that cousin of yours... She does look an awful lot like you."

Jaskier tensed. 'Shit, I should have shut that rumour down as soon as it left Janina's lying lips.' "I suppose she does," he answered diplomatically.

That made the Count smile brightly. "Well?"

He hesitated. "Well... what, my lord?"

"Are you going to legitimise her?"

"Oh." Truth be told he hadn't even thought of that. He cursed silently. Well, maybe- "I haven't decided yet."

"Well, decide quickly, then. I like you, Pankratz. And as luck would have it, the betrothed of my dear Aleksander passed away from a fever a few months ago. I haven't decided on another match, yet."

For a few short moments Jaskier was stunned into silence, convinced that his ears had to be betraying him. 'Why would the Count want to bind me to his family tree?' Before he had even the chance to gather a clear thought his mouth blurted out: "What would you get out of it?"

Lord Hangfelt laughed. "Ever the clever man. Why, I would get Lettenhove back for a start.”

“Well, my lord, if you want it back, why not just take it?” He forced himself to smile. “You know just as well as I do that doing so is completely within your rights.”

“What, and just throw you out?” He shook his head. “No, Pankratz, I don’t think I’m keen on aggravating you anytime soon. Or your sisters, that is. I can’t afford a feud with neither Goldfurt nor Kerton. Not to speak of his Majesty’s uncle, who is so very fond of your Jolanta. And, judging by your reputation, you’d just flee to Oxenfurt and write a horrible cycle of smear poems that would ruin my reputation beyond measure, but not before seducing at least three of my siblings and my mother.” There was an amused twinkle in his eye. “Is that an accurate assessment?”

Jaskier quickly hid his smile. “I believe so, my lord.”

“I know four things about you. First, you were endowed by the gods with a vivid imagination and a silver tongue. I know about the games you play and it’s folly not to fear you. You could be more lethal than your witcher still. Secondly, you’re too clever for your own good. You graduated two terms early, summa cum laude, with begrudging recommendation letters from all your professors. While simultaneously managing to climb the steps of the Academy to the rooms above the vice-chancellor’s office. Don’t give me that look, Pankratz, I did my research. Thirdly, you know how to survive. You did that for sixteen years while trailing behind a witcher like a lost puppy and fucking your way through nigh every marital bed of the Continent. That’s rather impressive. And lastly, you are filthy rich. In fact, you’re the richest vassal I got and I know that you know how to become richer still. Is that about right?”

He nodded slowly. “Colour me impressed, my lord,” he answered, “I believe you’re seeing right through me.”

“Good.” A smile spread on his face. “So, Pankratz, I have to retract my earlier words. I do not want Lettenhove back. I want you. For good. And I want you to put that clever little brain of yours to good use. I think we can go far, you and I.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “So, why don’t you tell me why you actually wanted to speak to me and we work out a trade?”

“A trade, huh?” he repeated quietly. That was a much better bartering position than he’d imagined himself to be in. “It is true that there is something I wanted to ask of you, though does it not require Fiona to wed your Aleksander.”

“Why ever not, Pankratz? I took you for an opportunist! Wouldn't you like your grandson to be a Count?"

Jaskier's head was spinning as the whole extent of the offer became apparent. He should, he guessed. As a Viscount, that was. He should be delighted with the opportunity to get Goldfurt within reach. If Ciri truly were his daughter, he probably would have agreed without thinking twice about it. 

But she wasn't. She was Ciri, sweet little Ciri, who had suffered so much already, who slept with stuffed animals and clung to his lips with whatever story he told; brave little Ciri, who'd be just as deadly with a blade as her father once she was grown. He couldn't barter her away. Never. Not even to- "She's only ten years old," he said quietly. "I don't want to take that kind of decision quite yet."

Lord Hangfelt snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. She’s more than old enough for a betrothal. Alina was scarcely ten months old when our fathers brokered the engagement."

'And what grief that betrothal brought,' he thought bitterly. ‘My bride was not even old enough to agree to an engagement when I could already be married.’ Another reason why he had chosen to hide in Oxenfurt for four years, though not before his father had forced his hand to sign the damned thing. "Allow me a bit more time to think about it. Please, my lord. I only just got her. Seven years I didn't even know of her existence. Don't take her from me just now. I can offer you something else in its stead."

"Tell me about your demand and we can see about that payment. How bad is it? Treason? Spying? Did you kill someone? Not a member of the court, I hope, I can't help you there."

"None of that, my lord, you'll be glad to hear. It's…” He wet his lips nervously. "Five generations ago my ancestors were granted this keep for their loyal services to your family. They have kept their peace, collected their taxes, furthered their interest. I have done nothing less. These ancient walls have protected those who bore my name ever since. Refugees were among them, and traitors, too, yet with your blessing no foe dared disturb the peace of this keep."

"Yes, as it is tradition."

Jaskier closed his eyes and swallowed his pride. 'Geralt could do it,' he told himself. 'And if the stoic witcher can, so can I.' Slowly, he went to his knees. "My liege, I am asking your leave to extend the Castle Peace that protects me and mine to Geralt of Rivia, as well."

"So, that's why he's not here." The Count of Hangfelt was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "I thought as much, but gods above and below, Pankratz, you are beside yourself with fear. He's a witcher, he will be alright! What are you so afraid of?"

'Why don't you tell me?' he thought angrily. 'You're the one who's been searching for him for the better part of the afternoon.' But right now was the time for humility and humiliation, not anger. "Might I be allowed to finish my plea, my lord?" he asked, his eyes firmly lowered onto the carpet.

He snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Well, then, wordsmith, talk away."

"The Witcher Geralt of Rivia is my dearest friend, whom I have known for almost half of my life. I love him like I would a brother. He arrived on my doorstep tattered and torn from the war that divides our beloved Continent, with bloodhounds on his heels. They turned around as soon as Lettenhove came in sight, but I do not know if they will stop without knocking a second time. It is not only Nilfgaard who calls for his head, but other factions, too, closer to my borders than I would like. I would like to protect him from these threats and any that might follow."

"You're asking for a lot, Pankratz, you know that," Aleksander Milas said quietly.

"I do, my liege."

"And how do you intend to pay for that?”

He swallowed. "I-" His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, but it did not help the dryness of his mouth. 'It's for Geralt,' he reminded himself, 'for Geralt and Ciri.' With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he said: "I accept, my lord. I will become a part of your family and help you with your ambitions. If your sister would still take me after the insults I have bestowed upon her."

"Hm," the Count said. “That’s a lot you offer for a bit of protection for your witcher.”

“It is,” he agreed quietly. “You said it yourself, four sixteen years I trailed after him like a lost puppy. He is very dear to me.” After a small pause he added: “Though I certainly wouldn’t be disinclined to another holding or two in exchange for my service.”

"Fine," the Count conceded after a moment of consideration. "Wed Alina if you're so fond of her, then. I'll draw up the contract."

Jaskier clenched his teeth. 'Shit.' That meant that there would be at least half a dozen clauses in it that he wouldn't like. Maybe if he talked to Geralt- No. He wouldn’t do that to them. He bowed his head instead. "I would be honoured," he answered.

The Count held out his hand and Jaskier took it with numb fingers to kiss the signet ring. "Belleteyn is a wonderful date for a wedding."

"I am inclined to agree, my liege."

"Get up now, liegeman, and go fetch your witcher. He'll have nothing to worry about from me tonight. And tomorrow he can swear to you and he will be safe."

"I am grateful for your generosity," he answered honestly.

"I'm certain you are. Now, stop frowning, this is a joyous day."

It was an order, but Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to follow it. 'A joyous occasion?' he asked himself. 'I sold my hand in marriage to shield Ciri from the same fate, and for what? To protect the man, I have loved for half my life with whom I can't lead a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes. Pray tell me, my lord, what is joyous about that?'