#'yet i did it all so coldly. almost slowly. plain for all to see'

[chirpsythismorning]

☎️🎲 🤼‍♂️ ✈️🚪 ➡️ 🫀🎮⌛️

I've Been Losing You by a-ha

previous ⏪︎ now playing ⏩ next back to playlist

[satorubrain]

Lol, I got this out of a prompt generator, so you can use this as an idea, hehe.

A couple has been dating for about three years, and the man still hasn't proposed. The woman is getting impatient, and after a drunken night out on the town, she proposes to him. He loves her—but he says no—owing to his belief that it's a man's job to propose. This awkward moment leads the pair down a path, neither expected.

You can make the ending a happy one or a sad one. It depends on what you're comfortable doing 😄

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader.

Tags: Fluff, angst, slightly suggestive at the end

Synopsis: You propose to Satoru in your drunken state and he rejects you, mainly because he wants to be the one proposing to you.

A/N: i love writing about heartbreaks healed by love 🫶 idc if satoru is bit too ooc I LOVE IT AND I NEED IT but i genuinely do think satoru is extra expressive when it comes to his loved ones

Satoru has always been a cheesy romantic. Persistently trying to swoon you with his cheesy pick up lines before you started dating, promising you that he'll definitely marry you if you start dating him. Getting stupidly excited whenever he thought about your marriage after you both started dating, making future plans with you. Last week he was screaming about how he can't wait to propose to you. You know he wants to do the big thing but now you are tired of waiting for him.

Sure your drunken state is going against his wishes but what does he mean by no.

"I can't marry you." Satoru says coldly.

What is he saying? You were drunk- just slightly but you were fully conscious and in control of your actions.

"Love- I- I'm not that drunk, I'm serious." You stutter, your grip on the ring box tightening, tears threatening to spill out. "D-do you want me to get on my one kn-"

"Lets just go home now, okay?" Satoru cuts you off, his tone awkward. He gently closes the box before gently taking it from your hand and keeping it back in your purse which he was holding.

The short ride back home is quiet for the most part, other than Satoru trying to make small talk to which you could only respond in small hums. You really couldn't afford to show your vulnerable side to Satoru right now. No matter the reason for his actions, you couldn't find even a glimmer of comfort in his presence.

You just need to be away from him right now. Opting to sleep in the guest bedroom, locking yourself away from him, all sorts of thoughts plaguing your mind. Maybe he's not ready yet or did he fall out of love? You don't know. Covering yourself with the blanket, trying to hide away from your thoughts, slowly losing yourself to the slumber.

Satoru didn't think his words would affect you this much. He thought he'd talk to you while you changed or during your night routine which you religiously follow every night but he didn't expect to see you go directly to sleep without even changing. But he knows you well enough that you'd surely walk out of the house without listening to a single word uttered by him.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to wake up. But his heart sinks when he reads your note on the desk.

"I need some time away, Satoru. Sorry for putting you in such an unwanted situation, I really just thought you wanted to get married, I was wrong. - Y/N"

The lack of any nicknames or hearts or any silly sticker which would make his day, your plain note is now breaking him apart. He feels faint thinking about the horrible misunderstanding caused by his stupid pride. What kind of ludicrous satisfaction was he supposed to achieve by hurting you so badly where you decide to fully avoid him.

"No. No. No. You've got it all wrong" He chokes out almost as if you could somehow hear him, hear him out despite not being in the house. He doesn't waste much time before teleporting to school, desperately hoping you were there.

You obviously weren't. Not just that but you've already left for multiple week-long missions with a strict instruction of location secrecy given by you. Combined with your abilities of concealing your presence even from Satoru, making it impossible to find you.

To most Gojo Satoru does seem like a heartless guy but only few know how he perfectly hides the cracks underneath his impeccable facade.

He's been leaving earlier than usual for a week- turned into a month, decorating your shared home, prepping your favourite food accompanied by a dessert, like a routine he would repeat all the steps everyday. Clinging onto a glimmer of hope that you'll soon return to him and accept his apology along with him.

"Satoru?" you quietly call out his name, sensing his presence inside, as you open the door with a slight tremble of your hand but the sight you were welcomed by took your breath out of your lungs, gasping out loud "oh my god"

Before you realize Satoru has already wrapped himself around you, trapping you in his shaky embrace, inhaling your scent as he buries his face in the crook of your neck "I missed you.... so much"

"I missed you too Satoru" you confess wrapping your arms around him "...but don't you think you did a bit too much?"

"Too much?" Satoru chuckles. "This is nothing, if you'd allow me I'll happily decorate the whole world to celebrate your existence" he proclaims placing a gentle kiss, cupping your face. "also tonight, let me take care of you, please"

Wanting to discover more of this uncharacteristically soft Gojo Satoru you whisper "alright" against his lips chuckling softly, giving into his wishes.

Satoru doesn't let you go the entire time, fearing you'd fly away from him to a location he couldn't reach. Taking your bags inside before closing the door with an arm around your waist the whole time and his chin resting on your shoulder from behind. He has been leaning down slightly due to the height difference but you know he could care less, so you decide to ignore it.

Leading you down the carpet of flower petals laid till the bathroom. You couldn't stop smiling as you discovered more of the scenery Satoru created exceptionally for you.

Getting rid of your clothes gently along with his before he cleans both of you up. Delicately holding your hand while you step into the bath adorned with rose petals and bouquets of your favorite flower around it.

"Are you feeling better?" Satoru asks softly.

"Mmn. Much better, my love" you whisper leaning against the broad of his chest. Hearing his favorite nickname does magic on him, calming his nerves. That's when he finally decides this is the right moment.

Pulling out the ring out of the box he hid behind a bouquet, bringing it in your sight. "My sweet love, I know I messed up big time by rejecting your confession. I just wanted to be the one who confesses to you first yet I took too long. I know it was stupid and childish but please will you forgive me and accept my heart? Will you please marry me and become my y/n?" He sincerely empties his heart to you with a nervous smile adorning his features, his hopeful eyes pleading you.

"I obviously will Satoru!!!" You exhale nodding profusely, holding out your hand. Tears roll down your cheeks as he slips the delicate yet extravagant ring on your ring finger. Satoru stares at your finger for a few seconds before placing a kiss on it. He was about to kiss you next but your hand on his lips stopped him.

"Is something still wrong?" He frowns dumbfounded.

"Nono!" you assure him. Mentally thanking your abilities as you summon the ring you bought for him on your palm before holding it properly. "Satoru, I think I must apologize for disappearing for such a long time and hurting you, so will you forgive me? As you are my place to return, the love of my life, allow me to ask you to marry me as well and become mine?" you ask, pouring your emotions in your impromptu confession.

"I have always been yours" he reminds you, allowing you to slip your ring on his ring finger.

The next moment, both of you are clashing your lips against each other in a desperate yet passionate kiss, souls aching for the touch of your loved one as the hands trace every curve. Bare bodies cling to each other like you two were one.

Though not so very surprisingly the rest of the night was still soft yet fervent. Whispering sweet nothing to the other half while making promises about the exhilarating future. But both of you know, no matter how hard it gets, you both can overcome it. After all at the end of the day, his heart and soul belongs to you while yours belongs to him.

I gave this fic my all. goddamn. So I hope you like it 🫶

[REQUESTS ARE OPEN]

[MASTERLIST]

[bylertapes]

I’ve been losing you (a-ha) 1986

it wasn't the rain that washed away rinsed out the colors of your eyes putting the gun down on the bedside table, I must have realised

it wasn't the rain that made no difference and I could have sworn it wasn't me yet I did it all so coldly, almost slowly, plain for all to see

I can still hear our screams competing you're hissing your s's like a snake

now in the mirror stands half a man I thought no one could break

it wasn't the rain that made no difference nervously drumming on, run away but I want the guilt to get me, thoughts to wreck me preying on my mind

so, please now, talk to me tell me things I could find helpful how can I stop now? is there nothing I can do? I have lost my way, I've been losing you

[onyxmustdie]

hello i am listening to "I've Been Losing You" by a-ha angrily. i am not mad at a-ha. i am mad at everyone else.

I WAS SUPPOSED TO THINK A-HA WAS SOME MYSTERIOUS, ANONYMOUS ONE HIT WONDER THIS WHOLE TIME? THESE GUYS? MORTEN HARKET? MAGNE FURUHOLMEN? PÅL WAAKTAAR? I WAS SUPPOSED TO LET LYRICS LIKE THESE* FADE AWAY INTO THE UNKNOWN?

*It wasn't rain that washed away, rinsed out the colours of your eyes

Putting the gun down on the bedside table, I must've realised

It wasn't the rain that made no difference

And I could've sworn it wasn't me

Yet I did it all so coldly, almost slowly, plain for all to see

[herbertwestswife]

“Don’t leave the door open”, the day I met herbert west.

That day I showed up at the house, prepared to meet new people. My twin brother Dan had told me he had a room available in his house, and would be happy to share it with me. I agreed, given it was close to my new job and I honestly missed my brother. On my drive there, I felt anxious, fiddling with my radio until my favorite song came on, ‘hungry like the wolf’. The house seemed quiet, which was shocking. I never did go to school.. dropped out when I was 16, but I always thought college kids were insane and crazy. I shrugged it off and got my bags out of the car. I was greeted by Dan at the door. “dani!!” He shouted happily. ‘Dani’, the nickname my mother gave me when I was a child. Short for ‘Danika’. Dan hugged he tight in his arms, “oh hun, I missed you!!!. Lemme help-“ he grabbed my bags. I walked into the house and was overcome with a chemical like smell in the hall. “Oh don’t mind that.. my roommate is a scientist!” Dan smiled awkwardly as if hiding a secret. I shrugged it off and walked around, seeing 3 rooms. One with a neatly placed small white label reading ‘Herbert’. The second had a large ‘talking heads’ poster on the door, sharpie scribbled on the bottom. ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ It read. I was unaware of this inside joke but didn’t care. I opened the empty room and saw a plain room, no paint, no bed, not even curtains. Dan walked in and plopped down my bags sloppily by the door, as if too excited to care about them. “This is your room!! I didn’t touch it, because I know you like things specific.” He grinned. “Oh dani, I missed my little sis..” he muttered.

Later that day, I was wandering the house whilst Dan was away at the store. I heard something from the room with the neat label. I opened it slowly, seeing a man with his back facing me. This must’ve been the roommate Dan mentioned over the phone. “Oh, hello!“ I said happily. The man turned towards me, slightly annoyed by my presence. “You don’t bother to knock? Dan told me you grew up southern, but I didn’t expect you to be raised in a barn!” He said bitterly. This hurt my feelings, yet I shook it off as him being nervous. “Oh I’m sorry!, I just got excited!!. I wanted to meet you.” I smiled. He was rather gorgeous, perfect plump lips and a upturned button nose, and big dough eyes. Not to mention his glasses made them even cuter. His hair was neat as well as his clothing. “Well you’ve met me, now leave.” He said coldly as he turned back to a glowing green bottle. I nodded. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m Danika..” I said, almost afraid of his rage. He turned to me once more and stood up. He was only a few inches taller than me, yet still stared down at me. “Well, Danika. I’m Herbert.” He responded. “There. Now LEAVE.” he pushed me to the door. I walked out and frowned, looking at my feet. He suddenly stopped me in my tracks. “You’re Dan’s sister, correct?” He questioned. I nodded. “W-well.. I didn’t know that! Don’t tell him I said any of that.” He muttered. I just nodded again before retreating back to my room. His hands were so warm, it made my stomach twist in a strange needy way I’d only ever get in high school when boys would compliment me. I retreated to my room and sat in the corner to read a book. Hours later, Dan had arrived to inform me of something. “Hey!!, so since I have a girl over tonight.. you can’t sleep in my bed-“, he hesitated, “You’ll sleep in Herbert’s room with him.”. Oh how that sentence felt scary and arousing all in one. Sharing a room with that hotheaded beauty? Count me in!. I agreed eagerly, mind racing with ideas. I had always been Hypersexual, and easily aroused. And so it began.

That night, whilst fixing myself up for bed, herbert walked in, brushing his teeth. He glared at me. “You’ll either sleep on the floor, or I do. Which do you pick?” He questioned. He noticed how I wore nothing but a tee shirt and panties to bed, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t a playboy centerfold, put pants on.” He spoke, annoyed. I nodded and stood up, bending over to get my shorts. I prayed he’d stare at my ass. I put them on and smiled. “I choose uhm… hmmmm..,” I looked down. “The bed?” I chose. Herb groaned in annoyance at this, nodding. He spit into the trashcan and cleaned his mouth, getting ready for bed. To my surprise, this neat man slept in his boxers!. I smirked, “this isn’t a playgirl centerfold, stud. Get some pants on.” I joked, which he wasn’t amused with. “It’s much different. I’m not wearing practically nothing. Your so called ‘underwear’ are one thread away from being just a waistband!” He explained. “Oh and it’s much different from morning wood rubbing against my ass?” I mocked. He didn’t expect me to have a potty mouth. Dan didn’t have much of one. “Just get in bed.” He complained. He turned off the light. I stopped him. “Don’t leave the door open..” I muttered softly. I was always afraid of doors and windows open at night. He closed and locked the door, crawling into bed.

I was between the wall and Herbert, and god he smelt so amazing. He stretched a bit and took off his glasses, slowly taking mine off of my face and putting them next to his on his bedside table. He was so gentle with me, it was confusing. He sighed softly. “Good night, Danika.” He said calmly, “good night, Herbert.” I replied. It took only a few seconds for him to be asleep and wrapped around me. He was snoring ever so gently, clung to me. I enjoyed the touch and melted into his arms, letting his soft chest hair lay against my cheek.

I’m starting to enjoy this man’s company..

[breathings-of-the-heart]

Stuck on You (Levi Ackerman x Childhood Friend! Reader)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just want to preface by saying that this is a TWO (maybe a three if i decide to write an epilogue drabble) PART SERIES, and I have just a few more scenes to write before I can post it! I don’t expect this one to do so well, to be honest, but it’s been so long since I’ve written anything I’m proud of and I think I’m happy with how this turned out. So yes, stay tuned for part 2 which i will link at the end once it is posted. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, season one/no regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 3.5k 

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

5 years ago

“Why is it that you always seem to be on my case the most?” Your frustration was obvious and your patience dissipated, feet shuffling in their spot as you finally turned to face him. “You never nag Isabel this much.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t respond, scanning your body for injuries. After asserting that you were indeed okay, he stepped over the unconscious man who laid on the ground, jaw set in anger as he walked forwards until he was so close you had to tilt your head slightly to keep eye contact.

Your snappy behavior was uncharacteristic. It only fueled his temper. The raven shook his head in disapproval, trying to keep his anger in check as you glared at him defiantly.

“Isabel doesn’t make such careless mistakes,” he pointed out coldly. “You almost got yourself hurt, (Y/N)! What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to cover your ass?”

The both of you stood there in silence for several minutes, gazing at each other and listening to your uneven breathing. His face, unlike so many others, never really did reveal everything he was thinking. Feeling. You were dared to search for something else in his steady gaze besides disappointment, but for once, you could not tell what you saw. It was infuriating, humiliating, and hurtful.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a brain inside your thick fucking skull.”

His harsh words didn’t normally cut you, but this time you flinched, looking away from Levi as all the fight drained out of you.


Wearing your jewelry out at night was a careless mistake, that you could admit. What was hard to swallow was the fact that you had just been mugged, and nearly assaulted, yet all Levi could do was find the time to scold you, not seeming to care at all if you were shaken up by what happened.  

It didn’t scare you that the other man’s hands found their way onto your skin. It didn’t scare you that something bad could have happened had Levi not knocked him out. You weren’t afraid of any of it; you were afraid that all the raven-haired man could see you for were your mistakes.

“So you think I’m a burden then?” you asked, choking up.

Your change in tone caught Levi’s attention. You suddenly looked smaller, and more vulnerable than the last time he looked at you. He sighed again, shaking his head softly. It took all your strength not to shy away from his fingers as they threaded through your hair, stopping on your shoulder and tugging you against him. You let Levi do it nonetheless, knowing this was his way of saying sorry; knowing this was his way of saying: “I’m tough on you because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”  

You pressed your ear against his beating heart, letting the sound soothe you.

“No, brat. I don’t think that. Let’s just go home, and forget about it,” his voice was more gentle this time.

You sniffled and nodded, chest bursting as Levi placed a feather light kiss on the top of your head. 

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

You never thought you’d miss the Underground. Especially when taking into consideration the miserable days after Levi, Isabel, and Farlan took that fateful deal, and were forced to leave you behind.  

Your feelings on the matter were conflicted, of course, but you were relieved and happy that the people who mattered most had such a big opportunity. They didn’t need to see you crying, nor hear about how scared you were to be by yourself. Each one deserved better than that, so you put on a brave face as they reassured you over and over that they’d come back. You beamed as brightly as you could, sending them off with words of encouragement as you continued fighting off the lingering feeling of dread as they left. 

You didn’t want to be a nuisance. Never wanted to be the reason they’d hold themselves back. 

Although he didn’t show it, Levi took it the hardest. He implored you to stay alive, in a scolding tone that he only ever used when he was worried. You could hold your own, but weren’t a fighter like the other three. The stern male had only ever been thankful of your gentle nature in the past, surprised to be cursing it now that he couldn’t protect you. But for him, you’d try your hardest, knowing that with a little faith and patience, you could be reunited in the future. 

The goodbye had been bittersweet, your lips slotting against his for the very first time. In a way, the way he kissed you seemed more like a promise than a farewell. His arms were wrapped around you all night, warmth lulling you to a sleep that otherwise, would never have been able to claim you. 

Parting afterwards the following morning became all the more difficult because of it.  

When Levi pulled a few strings with his newfound respected status and got the military to sponsor your citizenship, you were over the moon. Becoming a soldier was the last thing you expected out of your life, but wherever Levi and the others went, you would gladly follow. You felt at home again, throwing your arms around the man for the first time in months and giggling at the fact that while he accepted the gesture and patted your head awkwardly, his lack of affection never changed. 

But you were quickly learning that the ideological existence that lived right above your head was just an illusion. You came only to find your friends dead, and Levi more closed off to you than he’d ever been before. Up here, things were far from perfect, and as time went on, you instead yearned for the past if only to appreciate it better a second time around. And although things slowly got better, life was not yet finished throwing its hardships your way. 

The last person you had left slowly became out of reach, as time apart inevitably distanced the two of you and gave someone else the opportunity to fill that hole in his heart. 


Reality, you found, was much crueler under the blue of the sky.

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

“You don’t have to deny it, Levi. I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at her,” you whispered, wringing your hands together in a feeble attempt to rid of the painful churn in your stomach. “I see it because you used to look at me that way.” 


It was admirable, at least, the effort you put in to keep your voice even. But the silence that followed those broken words was pitiful. The silence made it even more difficult to meet the gaze of the man in front of you. Levi had every opportunity to deny the truth of your burning statement; to bring you back into his arms and reaffirm his love like he used to. Like he would if maybe things were different. 

You knew, he had no desire to do that now. Instead, the Captain’s eyes screwed shut and a light sigh escaped his perfect lips, the warmth of it tingling your skin. It was nostalgic, almost, being alone with Levi like this. His face was nearer to yours then it had been in months, enough so that you could make out every tiny detail. The irony of it seemed mocking: for once, you couldn’t bear to look at him. Not that you needed to, with every feature of his sure to forever haunt your memory. 

But now all you could see were the interactions they had. Your vision consisted of watching as their bond and understanding grew. It was created in such a short amount of time, but hardly unpredictable with the amount of time Levi and Petra spent together. Even if Levi himself had not realized it, for you, it was plain as day. You knew him better than anyone. Could see that there was no pain in Levi’s eyes when he looked at her. Afterall, unlike you, Petra wasn’t a painful reminder of the past.   

Despite his physical closeness, this was the most detached you’ve ever felt from the male. The space between you was strange and unfamiliar. Lonely and cold.

At your words, he exhaled through his nostrils. 


“I would never be unfaithful, (Y/N). I never have been,” he spoke firmly, in that certain tone of speaking only he could manage. “I promised I would never leave you.” 

A tear spilled down your cheek, despite your best brave face. It was too much to handle, even for a calloused girl like you. Because despite everything, Levi had always been there. It seemed scary to have life any other way. 

Said man took your hand gently, handling it like porcelain. It wasn’t until his skin touched yours that you realized your fingers were shaking, and your facade was crumbling. His gesture was another reminder of what once was. The familiarity of his skin a testament to all the time spent simply existing with one another.

How did it come to this?

“A lot has changed since then, it seems,” you laughed softly, for once pulling away from his touch. “I bet you can’t even look at me without thinking about those two, huh?” 

You never once thought it was his fault. Even if you told him that, you knew Levi would always take accountability. Knew he would blame himself for taking Isabel and Farlan away from you. You should have seen this coming. It was inevitable that your love would be tainted, and that he’d find it somewhere else, even if it was unintentional. 

“(Y/N), wait—“ there was a small panic that awoke in the raven’s steely eyes that only those who truly knew him would be able to detect. 


“—You know how I feel about you, don't you? I want to be the one who you'd wake up next to every morning. The person you'd trust enough to spill all your secrets to, the one you want to hold close, the one who would make it hurt too much to ever let go. I want to be the person who can make you smile, or laugh until you can't breathe. Your first and last thought of the day, and the one you wonder about even when they’re not around.” 

You swallowed a whimper, fists clenched at your sides as your restraint came undone. It was all you’d ever wanted since you were small and starving and Levi was all you had to hold onto.

"But more than anything I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

And because that’s how much I love you.

“I’d spent the rest of my life with you, if you asked me to,” the stoic Captain stated, as simply and mindlessly as if reciting the weather. 

You knew it was true. You also knew better than to let your mind wander to that fantasy, or to let a world come into fruition in which you stopped Levi from pursuing his happiness; held back simply because his loyalty knew no bounds. You refused to be that selfish. You’d rather die a miserable death, a thousand times over. Rather endure this anguish for as long as it resided in your heart then watch his indifference turn to hatred as years of a one-sided relationship droned on and on.

He doesn’t want you anymore. 

“I know, Levi.” You paused for a long moment. “Petra's wonderful. I don't hate either of you, I want you to remember that." 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying desperately to forget the feeling of Levi’s lips on your skin, your face against his chest. The warmth between your ribs or the butterflies in your stomach, or the fireworks of passion that only he could make you feel. Tried to forget the rare but special, secret words of affirmation only your ears got to hear, and the goosebumps they’d send across your skin. 

You wanted to erase it all, if only to make it easier to walk away with the knowledge you’d never feel any of that again.  

It was pathetic. 

There wasn’t anything left to be said. So with the task near impossible, looked at your lover, your best friend, your rock, your Levi, and turned away.

You only managed three steps before a voice followed you and a hand closed around your wrist.

“Is this what you want?” He sounded apathetic, but you knew better. His underlying worry only made the pain feel worse. 

“I don’t know.” At the very least, you were honest.  

"Will I see you again?"  

As adaptable as he was, Levi was never a fan of the unconventionality that was “change.” He was never surprised, quick to go with the flow, even if he preferred certainty and steadiness. 

This conversation, though, was one he never expected. 

"Of course," you forced a tiny smile, knowing it was more convincing than it felt. "I just need a breather. I'll be back for dinner." The words tasted bitter in your mouth. 

That was the first and only lie you'd ever tell Levi Ackerman, having handed in your resignation papers to Erwin just yesterday.

Forgive me, Levi. 

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

Snow fluttered down from the sky, coating the local shops and roofs of buildings with a thick, white blanket. Merchants and store owners alike grumbled their disapproval, bustling to sweep the front of their shops. The air was crisp and biting, yet you relished in the feeling and absorbed the atmosphere. Drunk garrison soldiers loitered around merrily, cheeks flushed from alcohol, catching the flakes in their hair and occasionally slipping on hidden ice in their drunken stupor. It made you chuckle softly, the residences of Wall Roses’ inconvenience the source of your contentment-- this was your first time seeing snow, the real thing a thousand times better than anything you read about in any book. 

You strolled through the marketplace, a basket holding bread, dried meats, cheese, and several fruits resting in the crook of your elbow. Your coin purse felt lighter than it had that morning, yet you carried on nonetheless, curious as to what Wall Rose had to offer. Children ran past you, throwing snowballs at each other and nearly running into you because of their haste. The sight made you grin as one of them bumped into one of the street market’s booths, knocking over a few items as he went. 

The woman behind the counter chastised them, her shouts growing louder when they barely spared her a glance and blended into the crowd of shoppers. Nick nacks and books were left scattered in their wake, askew on the cobblestone ground.

“Need help, ma’am?,” you asked her, picking up the objects from the ground. 

“Thank you, dearie,” she sighed gratefully, taking them from your hands. “Kids these days, so reckless and always in such a hurry.” 

You laughed airily, mirth swimming in your eyes. 

“You’re just lucky they didn’t steal anything,” you joked, reminiscing about your own thieving past. Your attention turned towards the noting the soldiers now dozing off on top of their card table nearby, tutting their behavior lightheartedly. “Levi, if only the police were like that back when we--” 

Out of habit, you turned around to meet his gaze, heart clenching when you remembered he wasn’t there. Your fists clenched to prevent you from smacking yourself at your carelessness. He’s not here, dumbass. 

“What was that, hun?” the woman behind the counter inquired, preoccupied in sorting her things. 

You put on your best smile, shaking your head before your thoughts could fill with images of a certain raven-haired, steele-eyed, heart-stopping male. The back of your eyes stung, the momentary joy of your first real winter quickly fading away.  

“Nothing important.” 

This is for the best, (Y/N). You’ve only ever gotten in the way, his whole life. Let the man be. 

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

It had been a few years since that last encounter with him. Part of you still wondered if Levi tried looking for you after realizing your true intentions of never coming back. You hoped he didn't, imagining instead that he'd made the most of the opportunity you'd given him. Prayed that it wasn't all for naught and he instead pursued what (or who) truly made him happy, instead of worrying about other people. In truth, you became content with life, learning to look back on memories fondly and being thankful for their existence. 

Residing above ground was enough reason to be grateful in itself, and you did your best to make the most of it. Your days were now spent in ways that paid tribute to your humble beginnings: individuals from the underground who managed to secure citizenship to the surface were put into your care. You helped men, women, and children alike assimilate into living on the surface, which included introducing the area, and assisting in finding housing and jobs. It was rewarding work, but more than anything, reminiscent to be able to see the wonder when their eyes meet the clouds for the very first time. The flickers of hope from your clients were things you carried with you every day. Your chosen profession left plenty of free time, however, as it was relatively rare for individuals to pay the hefty toll of climbing up those stairs. 

Your life was average, and for the most part, uneventful. The quietness that accompanied mediocrity proved to be comforting, however. It was a far cry from the days of constantly looking over your shoulder and needing to carry a knife in your boot, just in case.

At first, it was difficult not to cry at the thought of the stoic, raven-haired Ackerman. The heartache weighed down in your chest for a good amount of time. The simplest things reminded you of Levi, but after a while, instances where he’d cross your mind became fewer and further between. With a nicer home than anything you previously owned, a livable income, and an overall peaceful existence, you didn’t have any regrets. 

At least, that was what you told yourself until you heard the news. 

On off days you worked as a waitress at one of the many taverns within Wall Rose. Large tips were one of the many perks that drew you in originally. The chatter of the customers and frequent bar-goers was a welcome ambience, and an opportunity for you to combat the occasional feeling of loneliness. 

Occasionally, Scout Regiment gossip would filter through, especially about Humanity’s Strongest and the new titan shifter Eren Jeager. Updates were nice, knowing Levi was safe and thriving in what he did best. But as you placed a pint of beer on one of the tables and overheard a heavy set man babble loudly to his comrade, dread splashed over you in waves.

“The Captain was the only survivor in his squad. He wasn’t even with them when it happened, poor guy. He must feel terribly guilty.”     

Your vision became hazy as you tried not to panic; of all the rumours that filtered through the drunk mouths of customers, you had never heard bad news like this before. The last you’d heard, human kind was given a beacon of hope, and things were looking up after Eren Jaeger managed to plug up the hole in Trost. 

“Excuse me, but which squad did you say this happened to?” you heard your voice say. 


Across the table, the other man took a swig of his drink, and grunted indignantly. 

“Levi Squad, the best in the military I heard. A shame, but I suppose even the top in the Survey Corps are still just suicidal maniacs when it comes down to it.” 

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!  

After that, everything became white noise. You could only register every third movement, heart thundering in your ears. The tray you’d been holding to carry the drinks clattered as it fell to the ground, causing a few gasps and strange looks to be thrown in your direction. In your horrified state, dread weighed down like lead in your body. You rushed to the back room, tears clouding your vision as you tried not to stumble. 

You gripped the edges of the washroom sink, dizzy with this newfound information.   

Levi has now lost more people that he loved, and was probably experiencing the same survivor’s guilt as he did with Isabel and Farlan. He was most likely suffering alone right now, never having been one to let people see his vulnerability so easily.

You did not witness first hand what your friends’ deaths meant to him. When the Captain waited for you at the top of the staircase, his expression never seemed out of the ordinary. Levi was kind enough to let you enjoy your first few days up with him simply enjoying the newfound freedom. He made the excuse that your two other comrades were out on business somewhere, and would be back to see you soon. Maybe, at the time, your excitement blinded you from the deeper emotions hidden in his voice. 

When you found out the truth, their passing broke you. The fact that Levi shouldered any blame, however, is what twisted the knife. He had been grieving by himself; feeling that pain without anyone to comfort him. He had to put on a brave face just to see you; secretly spending that last month alone, probably relaying over and over how he would break the news to you. 

Your remorse increased tenfold when it was him who held you, and him who put you back together, just like he had to for himself. And now he was by himself all over again.

I have to do something. 

Splashing water on your face, you straightened up and looked in the mirror, a sudden surge of guilt coursing through your veins.

You refused to let Levi be alone this time around, no matter how he might feel about you now.

~~~~~~~

Part Two!

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 49: Something to Prove

Where Tristan interrogates Gordian about Corypheus' plans, but learns more than what he bargained for.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The wine was cool when it glided down Dorian’s throat. The rain had finally stopped, yet the echoes of distant thunder from the west still drifted through the Plains. The muffled sounds that came from within the tent made Dorian’s stomach twist. He drank some more, trying to make it stop. 

“How’s your head?” came Bull’s question from behind him. 

“Never had any complaints,” Dorian quipped, without thinking. 

Bull chuckled softly, standing beside him with his arms crossed before his chest. “Good to know.”

“How’s the prisoner?”

“Well enough. Boss is currently rearranging his face. With his fists.”

Dorian winced. “I thought he was done with that,” he murmured. “How he deigns to get the man talking if he punches out all of his teeth is truly beyond me.”

“Gotta soften them up a bit first, before you get them talking,” Bull said in a pleasant tone. “Besides, Gordian should have known he had it coming, when he trapped you behind that barrier.”

“Yes,” Dorian sighed. “I suppose he should.” There was little that could be done to quell Tristan’s anger and loathing for the Venatori on the best of days, let alone now, that one of them had had the audacity to attack Dorian directly. Not that he’d been in any real danger, as Dorian had pointed out to him several times on their way back. There was hardly a lackey of Corypheus that could truly hold their own in a fight against him. But Tristan, if nothing else, did have a flair for the dramatic that could match Dorian’s own sometimes. 

“I think I’ve had enough fresh air for now,” he said, tucking his flask back into his pocket. “Let’s go back inside, and see if there’s anything left of our captive to have a conversation with.”

The inside of the tent they’d dragged Gordian in felt uncomfortably stuffy. The air smelled of blood and mud. Gordian was tied to a short wooden pole, with his hands behind his back, his head lolling forward. Tristan stood above him, wiping his knuckles on a piece of cloth; the fabric, once white, was now crimson.

Tristan’s eyes were dark when he glanced at Dorian and Bull over his shoulder. He tossed the bloody cloth to the side, then picked up the leather bag that Harding had brought him a little while before. Inside were health potions, their contents vibrantly red in the dreary half-darkness of the tent. 

“Give him this,” he said sharply as he tossed one vial at Sera. “Make sure he drinks it all.” 

The elf caught in the air, hopping off the barrel she’d been sitting on. “I say we leave him like this,” she huffed, yet strode to the man regardless. “He’s not worth wasting a good potion on, is he?”

“I want him talking,” Tristan said coldly, “and I have no time to spare to wait for him to recover.” His features were hard, the trembling shadows of the lamp in the corner carving stark shadows along his cheeks and the line of his jaw. He watched as Sera tipped Gordian’s head back, emptying the contents of the vial, little by little. From his corner of the tent, Solas watched too, leaning against his staff, his face an expressionless mask. 

“There, all done,” Sera said, clapping the man hard on the back when he started coughing. Gordian’s wounds started healing slowly, though the bruises remained, as did the puffiness around his left eye, which was almost swollen shut. “Ready for another round?”

Gordian scowled up at her, his eyes still hazy. “Get your hands off me, you filthy knife ear—”

“That’s enough of that. Sera, leave him.” 

Tristan crossed his arms before him, and Dorian almost let out a breath in relief. As much as Gordian disgusted him, he wasn’t sure he could stomach another round of watching the man’s face getting beaten to a pulp. There was a side of Tristan that frightened him at times: he couldn’t quite understand how the same man that was so soft and gentle with him, that treated him as if he was precious and fragile, could just as easily turn stone cold and ruthless with those that slighted him. Not always, not with everyone, but just the thought of what he could do when pressed made Dorian somewhat uneasy.  

“What is your purpose here?” Tristan asked Gordian. “What were you sent to do?”

Gordian glanced up at him, his eyes hazy. He said nothing, only kept staring at him with a scornful smile painted on his lips. Tristan’s gaze hardened, his fingers digging into his arms where his hands lay folded. 

“I asked you a question.”

Gordian’s expression didn’t shift. “I heard you the first time, Inquisitor.” He uttered the word with so much contempt, that even Dorian winced. 

Without a word, Tristan picked up the bucket of ice cold water that stood beside him, and threw it forcefully on Gordian. The Venatori gasped, blinking, crimson-tinted water dripping from his hair and his beard. His eyes were wide and focused now, the haze lifting, and Gordian stared at them all around him, his chest heaving with his panting breaths.

“Was that truly necessary?” Dorian muttered, to which Sera shrugged carelessly, perching herself on the barrell. 

“Serves him right,” the elf said, gathering her legs underneath her and boredly chewing on a wheat stem while Gordian gradually returned to his senses fully. 

Dorian sighed, then reached into his coat pocket and removed his small notebook, the one he always kept with him. Some of its pages had been soaked by rain and mud during his tumble with the Venatori, but his notes were blessedly intact. He'd hoped to find some time after the fight to make some notes on Gordian's magic, when his memories of the barriers and incantations he'd used were still fresh in his mind, and now was as good a time as any.

“Did that cool your head?” Tristan said pleasantly, setting the bucket down. "Ready to answer my questions now?"

Gordian coughed again, shivering and sputtering water and blood through his split lips. “You’ll pay for this,” he hissed, voice hoarse and trembling. “Do you hear me? Corypheus will know. Corypheus knows all. He will make you all pay! He—” Gordian stopped talking when Tristan took a slow step towards him, sliding a knife out of his pocket. Its edge was sharp, thin as a hair.

“One more word,” he said in a low, threatening tone, “one more word that I don’t care to hear, and I’m cutting your tongue out.” 

Gordian swallowed, glancing at the knife, then in Tristan’s face. “Curse you,” he tried again, “curse all of you—” He stopped again, when Tristan moved closer, brandishing the blade. “Alright, alright,” he said shakily. He shrunk back into himself, pressing against the pole he’d been tied to. “Have it your way.”

“Good.” Tristan leaned on his back leg, twirling the blade between his fingers. “If you value your life, you’ll tell me everything I need to know. Yes?”

The Venatori nodded, once, and with much reluctance. 

Read the rest on AO3!

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Losing you [Regulus Black x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Challenge

December 10 – Losing you [Regulus Black x Reader]

Title: Losing you Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader and Sirius Black Word count: 2.7k Published: 10 December, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warnings: abuse, abandonment issues, family problems Notes: I have been thinking a lot about Sirius and Regulus’ relationship and I decided to write it down, because I couldn’t get it out of my head. This is also a part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar where I post something each day from 1 - 25 December. Summary: You have been watching your boyfriend, Regulus drifting away from his brother, Sirius. When the opportunity arises, you decided to get involved and lend a helping hand to the brothers. Inspiration: [x] [x] [x] By @alessiajontrunfio‘s artwork Challenge: This is my entry to @blisfvll‘s writing challenge [x] [x], prompt is in bold and also @teheharrypotter‘s two weeks of angst challenge [x] [x].

“Please leave me alone.” 

10/12 - Slowly drifting away from each other

Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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You were seated on a couch in the Slytherin common room, holding your boyfriend’s hand as you watched the flames reaching higher in the fireplace. You laid your cheek against his chest, listening to his regular heartbeat, making you feel relaxed as his arm wrapped around your waist. Regulus has been rather quite recently, his usually warm and welcoming gaze now empty and broken. You knew it was all because of his brother, Sirius, even though he didn’t talk much about him.

You knew that there was a time when he looked up to his brother, when he worshiped him, but Hogwarts changed it all, before their family turned them against each other even more. You knew all about it, but Regulus talked to you as if he was giving you facts, he never showed emotions when the subject came up. After Sirius left Grimmauld Place, the warm flames in Regulus’ eyes faded, before they completely disappeared.

Sirius was well known for his flirty behaviour, his big mouth and obnoxious personality. His fame preceded him. But you knew that the reason Regulus never talked about his brother after he left their home, had nothing to do with how popular he was, nor was it about envy or jealousy.

One night you got hold of him when Slytherin won a quidditch match against Gryffindor as he was drunkenly stumbling across the common room, murmuring under his breath.

*

“Reg, what are you doing?” You asked the boy as you placed an arm under his armpit and held him up, helping him walk to his dormitory.

“We won.” He chuckled, which was quickly stopped by a hiccup. You knew him for so long by then, you knew that chuckle was a phony act of his, but you didn’t want to push for the subject.

“Yes, indeed. We won against Gryffindor.” You replied with a smile carefully painted across your face. You opened the door to his dorm and helped him to his bed.

“He deserved it, you know? He and his friends and his house, always acting so happy, not even caring about others who are suffering around them. He deserved to be defeated.” He hissed, his tone growing angrier after each word leaving his lips.

You frowned at the boy, before you decided to speak up. “Reg, is it about Sirius?” You asked, hoping he would open up to you in his drunken state. You sat down beside him, on the edge of the bed, getting hold of his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. He nodded, but he didn’t speak up just yet. His eyes were fixed on the wall across the room as silence fell upon you.

Regulus broke the quiet atmosphere as a scoff left his lungs. “You know, I hate him.” He spit in an angered tone. “He thinks he can do whatever he wants, he can just walk out the door and leave everything behind. He doesn’t think of the consequences, he doesn’t think of others. He is just plain selfish.” He scoffed in anger, a hiccup cutting him off once again.

“Maybe you should sleep, love. You will have a terrible headache in the morning.” You spoke, trying to avert his thoughts. You didn’t like to see the pain in his eyes, the tension in his body, his fingers holding yours stronger, almost squeezing them.

“You know, back in the day-“ he started with a shaky voice. “I got in trouble. I set the curtain on fire in our living room. I thought mother would go mental, that she would punish me. I was shaking out of fear, I was crying. I honestly was terrified.” He stopped for a second, trying to collect his thoughts. “When mother saw what happened, I thought that was it.” He chuckled painfully. “Well guess what, that idiot brother of mine took the blame. I watched as mother used the cruciatus curse on him and I didn’t stop her.” You wrapped your arms around his shaking form as tears slowly left his grey eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You whispered into his neck, hinting a small peck on his soft skin. “Sirius took the blame on purpose. He didn’t want to see you suffer.” You tried to sooth his pain, but it didn’t seem to work.

“You don’t understand. I watched as she was screaming at him, whilst I hid behind the stairs, like the coward I am. I watched as he shouted in pain and fell on his knees. I watched as his body rolled on the ground, before his voice was gone and he suffered silently, his teeth clenched, tears falling from his eyes. It was all my fault.” He cried out, his voice weak and shaking. You drew random circles on his back trying to sooth the boy.

You helped him up on the bed, taking his shoes off, before you climbed in and pulled him to your chest. You caressed his arm and hinted a small kiss on the top of his head, waiting for him to finally fall asleep, guarding his dreams, chasing his nightmares away.

*

Since then you haven’t talked about what happened. Sirius did come up in your conversations sometimes, but it was mostly initiated by you and Regulus quickly shot your choice of subject down. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

But you couldn’t keep quiet. You saw the hurt that the distance between the brothers caused and you didn’t want to watch the love of your life losing himself any longer.

“You should talk to him, you know?” You asked, but he didn’t reply. It was his usual defence mechanism. Whether he didn’t acknowledge the subject and pretended not to hear you talk or immediately changed it. You didn’t like how he handled it though. “You should know me by now. I will keep nagging you until you talk to me.” You spoke as you leaned away from his chest and folded your arms in front of you, pouting at the boy’s ignorance.

He heaved a deep sigh and averted his gaze from the fireplace, meeting your eyes this time. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about him.” He spoke in a cold tone.

“But I do. You can pretend to not care, but it won’t change the fact that you actually do. He is still your brother.” You spoke, opening your arms as if offering the solution.

“No, he isn’t. He stopped being my brother the moment he stepped out the door.” He hissed, fairly irritated by your choice of subject and the thought of his brother.

“You very well know that’s not how it’s working. You have to talk to each other. I don’t like to see you hurting.” You caressed his cheek with the back of your hand, but he just pulled away.

“I’m perfectly content where I am and I love you, but you should understand the most when I don’t want to talk about something.” He explained in a serious tone, but you were always one to push the boundaries.

“Look, I understand, and I love you, Reg. But that is the exact reason for my nagging. I know you way too well to recognise when you are lying to me. Your brother is important to you and you can try to pretend that he is not, you can keep lying to yourself, but it won’t change the truth.”

He heaved a deep sigh and gently shook you off him as he stood up. He started walking towards the exit of the Slytherin common room, before you got hold of his wrist and stopped him.

“Where are you going?” You asked with a deep frown.

He lifted his arm and pointed at the clock above the fireplace, which showed 7pm. “I’m hungry, so I am heading to the Great Hall. Is that a problem?” He asked coldly. You just rolled your eyes and linked your fingers with his, squeezing them.

“It is, if you don’t ask me to come with you.” You shrugged playfully. “You should know how grumpy I can get when I’m hungry.” You grinned at him, trying to lighten the mood, which earned you a scoff from him, but he couldn’t hide the tiny smile curving in the corner of his lips.

You walked up from the dungeon, heading to the Great Hall, hands linked together. You loved the feel of his warm palm against yours, his long fingers engulfing yours as if providing you safety.

“Hey Reg.” You heard a familiar voice, almost identical to Regulus’, maybe a tad deeper. You didn’t have to think to know who he could be. As you both turned around, Sirius stood behind you with a sympathetic smile. You looked up at Regulus, his jaw tense, his gaze ice cold. A look you have never seen from him before. “How do you do?” Sirius tried again, but this time you couldn’t miss the grimace Regulus wore, nor could Sirius miss the painful look in his brother’s eyes, although he couldn’t interpret it.

“Do not talk to me.” Regulus replied, his tone sharp as a knife, almost warning, one could say. His hand squeezed yours tighter as if it could help him keep his anger at bay.

Sirius walked up to his brother and placed his hand on his shoulder, causing Regulus’ body to tense under his touch. “Regulus, please, let’s talk.” He held onto his brother tighter as if it was the only way to keep him from walking away. You quickly squeezed his hand, reassuring him that you were there for him.

“No! I don’t even care about what you have to say.” He shook his head, his teeth clenched. “You left that hellhole as you called it, now be happy and just please, leave me alone.” He sounded firm, but Sirius knew his little brother. He could feel the desperation in his voice, he just couldn’t understand.

“You’re still my brother and that will never change.” He replied, his eyes following Regulus’ every movement.

It was visible he didn’t expect his brother’s cold behaviour. Although they had their ups and downs, having different views on the Wizarding world, you never heard Regulus talk to anyone with so much hatred. And after all that you knew about them, you were sure it was not meant for the older Black, but more towards the situation they found themselves in.

“You lost all your rights to care about me as a brother when you walked out that door and left me.” He hissed in anger. You tried to whisper to him, calm him down, before he decided to say something else that he could regret.

“I never left you, Reg.” Sirius raised his voice, a panicking tone hidden behind his words. “I still care about you, but I couldn’t stay in that toxic household anymore. I couldn’t handle mother’s curses, I couldn’t handle her beatings, her hatred. It hurt too much.” Sirius’ grey eyes glistened of the unshed tears. You never imagined seeing him so broken after all the rumours you have heard of his obnoxious and selfish behaviour. He didn’t seem like the one you heard rumours about.

“Then go and celebrate and stop pretending like you care.” He scoffed as he tightened his grip around your hand and started pulling you after him.

“Regulus, talk to him. It’s been going on for so long.” You tried to get to him, but he seemed too determined to leave. “Regulus Black!” You raised your voice, stopping the boy in his steps. “Stop running away and face him.” You tried to convince him, but his body just tensed at the thought.

“Reg, please.” Sirius begged him from a few steps away from you, his tone desperate for his brother to hear him out.

Regulus stood beside you, his eyes full of pain, his body tense, his hand squeezing yours involuntarily. You lifted your other hand, caressing his arm, trying to calm him down.

“Why should I? You made it very clear that you don’t care about us. That you don’t care about me.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“That’s not true, Reg.” He shook his head immediately. “I do care about you. That’s why I have been trying to get in touch with you, but you are pushing me away.” Your eyes widened at his statement. Regulus never told you about his brother’s attempt to mend things. “I was mad at you, for being naive and listening to our mother, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are still my brother.”

“It clearly does. You have just walked out on me.” He hissed in anger.

“And do you realise how guilty I feel about that?” Sirius asked, his voice weakening. “I know that you love our mother and I know we have different views. And as much as I disagree with your thoughts, I don’t want to lose you.” Desperation was clear in his voice, but Reg just shook his head, trying to leave once again. However, you didn’t let him. You pulled his arm back, steading him beside you.

“Reg, talk to him.” You whispered.

“Regulus, I am trying to make things right here. I know you feel betrayed, and I can’t express how guilty I feel about it, but you are my brother and I don’t want to lose you.” Sirius was almost begging Regulus and knowing your boyfriend you knew he wasn’t far from giving in. You watched as he swallowed, his adam’s apple moved up and down firmly.

Regulus took a deep breath, his eyes finally focusing on his older brother. “Why did you leave without a word? I know our relationship wasn’t always the best, but you keep telling me I’m your brother, still you just walked out on me.” For the first time you finally saw Regulus opening up and you couldn’t deny how proud you were.

“It was a hasty decision. I didn’t think it through. I got up and left. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. But I never meant to ruin our relationship any further.” He shook his head as he walked closer again, placing his hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “It was horrible there, and I felt like I was sinking deeper, that I was being suffocated each and every day I spent in that house. I couldn’t handle our mother lashing out on me all the time and I just felt like I had to leave.” He breathed. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, nor do I want you to feel like I am asking you to. I really just want to make things right. You are my brother and I don’t plan on losing you.” He spoke full of determination. “Do you think we could try again?” He asked.

Regulus stood beside you, his breathing shaky, his hands sweating in your hold. “I guess it wouldn’t be that bad.” He replied coldly, but both you and Sirius knew it was just an act. Inside he was more than happy to start again with his brother. Sirius patted his brother’s shoulder with a happy grin across his face.

“Why don’t you two go to the kitchen and grab something from there, talk things through maybe?” You asked, both boys looking at you with a surprised expression.

“Now?” Regulus asked.

You tilted your head with a sweet smile as you spoke up. “Right now.” You stood on your tiptoes and hinted a small kiss on his lips, before letting go of his hand.

“But we said we would eat together.” Regulus tried to argue, but you knew it was all about his defence mechanism kicking in.

“Believe me, I think I can eat alone too.” You giggled. “You two have a lot to talk about, love. Now shoo!” You said.

“But-“ he tried to argue, but you cut him off.

“You asked me what I’d like for Christmas, didn’t you?” You asked and the boy nodded diligently. “I want you to go and sort things out between you. Now.” You added the last part in confirmation, which earned a chuckle from Sirius and a playful eye roll from Regulus. You kissed his cheek and left the boys behind, heading towards the Great Hall.

The next time you met Regulus, the welcoming and warm gaze he wore before was back in his eyes, shining brighter than ever. Words of his brother still limited, but showing continuous growth.

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[eleanore-delphinium]

Reciprocate I (2021 Version)

DISCLAIMER: Repost with additional details and edits from same title piece found in DAMIRAE ENTRIES (A03).

Part 2: Reciprocate I

Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

~.~.~.~.~.

Reciprocate I: Raven

'There she was again at the foot of her bed, in her room in the Titans Tower—weeping. It was like she was grieving. But knowing her—she probably was.' Damian couldn't help but think as he stood unmoving by her bedroom door.

Raven's head was buried into her hands as she cried.

This again. How many times has Damian seen Raven like this? How many times had he come and comforted her?

Raven noticed someone's presence inside her bedroom. And she knew that there was only one person who would come into her room in the state that she was in.

Damian Wayne.

Damian Wayne who is the leader of the Teen Titans at the age of nineteen, which Raven had been a member for seven years and at twenty-one she has been one of the longest active team members, alongside Garfield or also known as, Beast Boy.

'Garfield. It has to be him again.' Damian thought bitterly as he gazed down on the floor with a darkened gazed. And how many times had he comforted her over him? Of all people, how many times had he comforted her over Garfield?

"Damian?" Raven called out in a broken sob as she wiped her tears and glanced to her left side to find, and to no surprise, that it really was Damian who was inside her bedroom. Garfield would never come to comfort her after their arguments, she came to realize at some point, the one that did that was Damian. When she met his blank gaze after he looked up from the floor, she couldn't help but give a faint smile and cried again.

"We broke up again." She cried into her hands and in response to her words, Damian just clenched and unclenched his right fist. Of course, Raven would not feel the turmoil he was feeling and had not seen his reaction. She always failed to notice him.

He wandered very frequently, like right now, if his existence held any weight to her at all. If he was someone that would make her react the way she was, about a man who didn't see her value the way he did.

"And what? This is for the nth time. Am I supposed to be surprised?" Damian said in a rather cold voice laced with something else he couldn't identify at that moment. But his breathing was uneven and yet Raven still didn't notice as she stopped crying and stared at him- and he regretted his tone. He regretted making her look so broken and hurt and he simply just wanted to undo how he had said his words. But the thing was—he meant it, with every beating of his aching heart.

"You don't understand." Her voice comes out so weak that his heart sunk for her or maybe for him. "This time—" Raven's eyes widened a bit. "This time—it's for real. No more do-overs. No more makeup. This time—" Raven started to hyperventilate. "This time we're really done."

And saying the words aloud—despite it not actually being loud enough perhaps because of how broken and in pain she was, made Raven realize how true the situation really is. Only a tear slipped down her left eye as she sat there frozen and very unmoving. The situation sinking deeper into her soul.

This time it's for real. The words echoed in both their heads, and yet their emotions towards those words were quite different, almost opposite.

How many times had he heard that-was he supposed to believe it? But seeing her empty gaze and unmoving body—he knew—that this really was for real. And in Damian's mind he had already reached out to caress her face to comfort her.

There was a small amount of happiness in the back of Damian's mind as opposed to Raven's sheer grieve over those words: This time it's for real.

'Until that 'for real' becomes another lie.' Damian's mind couldn't help but whisper to his heart, the small glimmer of happiness damped just as quickly as it came. He shouldn't even find happiness in her sorrows.

"He says he's leaving the team— he's going to join Young Justice." Damian was surprised to hear this as the information had not gotten to him yet. "He told me not to follow him—because this really is the end of the line for him and I." She pressed her lips together.

He didn't know what to say, how to comfort her at this moment. He stared intently at her but with as much a gentle gaze he could offer. If what she said was true, perhaps this was his chance. He shook his head, to shake the thought out as it should not be the priority now but he couldn't help it. His heart has become so weary.

"Raven." He called out to her as he approached her slowly. Her eyes flickered to meet his gaze and as she did so, silent tears fell from her eyes again. "Maybe that is a good thing."

And Raven did not take it well. What did Damian mean? Her tears fell faster as she broke into a sob, she covered her mouth with her right hand, unaccepting of what he had just uttered to her.

"Raven." He called her again, as he sat beside her and touched her left hand with his right hand. "This could be a good thing. You can finally let someone take care of you the way you deserve."

This wasn't what she wanted to hear and it wasn't what she expected to hear from him.

Of all the times Damian had comforted her over her numerous break-ups with Garfield he had never—ever—said such a thing to her. And she felt as though he had punched her yet all she could do was wept loudly in response.

Damian sighed and hesitated to hug her, but eventually was able to wrap his arms around her shaking form. It was not the tightest hug he could give, but it was all that he could muster to give to her. And this time he couldn't help but wonder if she could hear his aching heart from such a close distance.

"I love him, Damian." She wept as she gave him a tighter hug and Damian flinched at the words she spoke. But of course, Raven failed to feel it, just like the pain that he was clearly resonating from deep within his bones and soul.

Love? Damian wanted to snicker at her and yet it was also something that would be directed at him.

"Have I not tried everything to please him? Where have I failed?" She pulled away from his embrace, the distance between their faces only a mere two feet away. Her hands were on Damian's chest as she looked up at him. "Am I not enough?" She sobbed as he furrowed his brows at the words he knew to be so ridiculous to hear.

Not enough? He felt the anger that he had buried a long time ago shimmer from very deep within him.

"Is my love not enough? Is this why he never chooses me? Didn't I try everything to please him? Do I not deserve love? Is this why I'm always—just—I'm never chosen?" She ranted as her left hand wrapped around Damian and her forehead rested on the back of her right hand that was on Damian's chest over his heart. And Raven continued to cry. Her words reflected the way he had been living for how many years now.

He silently bit his lip. Even though her hand was already resting so firmly over his heart, she still couldn't feel or hear his heart breaking at that very moment. How many times had he let her break his heart over and over again?

"You call this love?" He whispered unexpectedly. And when Raven pulled away to look at him with confusion on her face—Damian understood that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. He can't take it back now. He looked down at her, mirroring her confusion but water was pooling on his lower eyelids.

"How can you call this love?" He said in such a low voice with plain disbelief and confusion. "How many times have you cried over Garfield? How many times have you said you two will never get back together—and yet somehow you get back together—despite how many times he has hurt you. But you hurt him too—but still—the pain you two inflict on each other—when will it be enough?"

Raven felt like he had dumped cold water on her and as Damian looked at her expression- even, he had felt that he had dumped cold water on her.

His mouth quivered as he contemplated whether he should take it back-of how he should take it back. But he had meant every single word and Raven's face was ashen from his words. She took in three long breaths controlling the ache in her chest. She found that at this moment, she was more hurt over what Damian said than over her breakup with Garfield. Damian wondered when his cycle would come to an end.

"How could you say that?" It came out barely as a whisper and her grief over her break up had become forgotten. She wiped the tears off of her face, as she completely pulled away from Damian by standing up from her bed.

"How could I?" He asked with a broken laugh as he stood up to face the door, Raven behind him as he secretly wiped the tear that slipped out of his eye. "How could you not? How many times have you two broken up in the span that I have been a part of the team? Let's not count when I wasn't part of the team! How can you—" A pause as he controlled his temper and the tears that wanted to fall. Damian closed his eyes as he deeply inhaled. When his green eyes opened there was a coldness befitting a son of an assassin and he turned to look at her.

"You two—not respect one another enough to just call it quits the first time—or maybe by the third time of your break ups. Why would you—you two—drag out this pain for all these years?" Damian's voice had a hint of suppressed tension in it. And Raven laughed at his rant, but the laughter sounded so resigned that Damian's heart couldn't help but flinch. She had looked away from him as she continued to laugh.

"Of course, you wouldn't understand how I feel!" Raven paused from laughing to stare at his green eyes coldly trying to compete with the indifference he was showing her. "I can't believe that I had thought you understood me—I can't believe I expected you to understand!" Another fit of broken laugher. Damian clenched his fist at her words. The disdain she had for Damian—he felt. And yet she still did not see his feelings- she still did not feel his feelings. How his heart at this moment was aching because of the love he had for her that he could never say out loud.

"I knew him for seven years Damian! Seven bloody years! And I love him. I love him so, so much." And Raven could not help but start to cry again. "I love him- for seven years."

It was a fact, it was undeniable. It simply is. He smiled brokenly at her, the indifference gone.

"Time does not guarantee that you are meant to be with someone." Damian said it so simply and when the words fell on Raven's ears—she froze.

"Why are you doing this?" She whispered not expecting an answer, as she simply had just spoken what was in her mind. She really did not expect this from Damian.

"Just because you know someone for a long time and love them just as long—it doesn't mean you could not love someone with the same intensity even when you just met." He continued on his voice soft and in a very resigned manner, and yet Raven wanted to scream at him and ask why he was continuing on.

Why was he doing this?

Her heart was aching enough already. Why were you adding to that? She wanted to say but found her lips could not form those words.

"Get. Out." Raven heard herself say after a minute had passed, it came out softly and with no weight to it. Damian looked at her with evasive eyes. "Get Out." She said a bit more firmly to which Damian stood unmoving with furrowed brows in front of her.

He seemed like he wanted to tell her more, but Raven did not allow him to. She wouldn't let him break her heart again. Why did this feel even worse than her breakup?

"Get Out! I said get out!" She yelled. Damian glared at her with his jaw clenched and hands in a fist. She tried to match his anger as she glared back. But Damian knew he was at a loss, he would give anything to make her happy. And so he concedes and leaves quietly out of her bedroom. Before the door was fully closed, he heard Raven fall on her knees and wept again, muttering something he couldn't quite catch.

"I love him- for seven years…" She whispered and repeated. She wondered for a split second if she was trying to convince herself of this fact. And she continued to grieve alone in her bedroom.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian was in the gym room of the Titan Tower. He was punching a sandbag with wrapped hands. He had been at the gym for a few days straight to vent out —in fact since his first failure at comforting Raven over her break up. He had tried to be unbiased, but everyone had a tipping point and Damian Wayne simply hit his tipping point on the matter.

Even so, he tried to act accordingly as the leader of the Titans. He had started comforting Raven in the pretense of his obligation as the team leader. But maybe it wasn't a pretense—and if so—when had it started becoming a pretense? When did he start convincing himself that it was part of the duty as the leader? When it was clear-looking back- that he had a weak spot for Raven and that he gave her special treatment.

Raven and Garfield appeared to be as civil as they could around each other after their recent breakup. And finally, Garfield had talked to Damian about leaving the team. Something about moving up the ladder. And God hearing that made Damian want to punch the man.

What did that entail 'moving up the ladder'? Did Raven not fit Garfield's desire—is that why they broke up this time around? She wasn't too high up that ladder? But Damian never voiced out the thoughts that invaded him as he heard Garfield say what he did.

In fact, Damian tried not to comment about Raven and Garfield's relationship, or lack thereof, just as he always had but the same could be said with anyone else. He tried to be as much of a team leader as needed be—and he did not—absolutely did not mention their personal romantic relationships with one another unless it was to remind them that he does not wish for it to affect the group dynamic. And maybe that was what led him to comfort Raven the first time around.

Damian valued the team dynamic too much just for a couple to ruin it. But when it was Raven who was so upset over her relationship, he would find himself in front of her door and then in her room, comforting her the best he could and with more effort than he would if it was someone else.

After Raven kicked Damian out over what hopefully was the last break-up of Garfield and Raven, Damian went out of his way to avoid Raven in the most casual and indifferent way possible. It almost bordered normalcy and yet it was clear that something had changed.

"Damian." A familiar voice called out to him, but he did not hear it as he was focused on his punches.

"Damian." He paused and Damian steadied his sandbag and turned to look behind him with furrowed brows.

"Raven." He greeted simply and was about to continue punching the sandbag again. But she called out to him again and he sighed.

"What is it?" He asked indifferently and with a sharp edge, his hands on the sandbag, keeping up the appearance of steading it.

"I'd like to apologize." He raised an eyebrow, shook his head and mock punched the sandbag and it swung a bit.

"You don't have to—" He steadied the sandbag. "I should be the one apologizing." His eyes do not look at her though.

"I suppose." She said quietly after what felt like a minute had passed in silence with no apology from Damian. "But you made a good point." He stiffly nodded, the apology he has been meaning to say was at the tip of his tongue. Another minute passed in silence.

"I know you're looking out for the team. Thank You." She said quietly, waiting for Damian to respond but he just nodded again and another minute of silence.

"I—I think I will take your advice—" Advice. She had called it advice; Damian's eyes looked up at her. He was surprised to see her violet eyes look at him intently with patience. "I—I should move on—close that part of my life. Start a new book." Damian's right eye twitched in surprise. The apology he had been meaning to say still stuck in his mouth.

She smiled at him and she nodded and then did a 180 turn on her heel.

"I'm sorry." He finally said but it was only a whisper. His disappointment and anger in his own inability to apologize properly made him clench his right knuckles against the sandbag, as his eyes followed her back. For a moment he thought she froze on the spot, but she continued to walk away.

'No. She had heard. But she did not give me a hard time over it.' Damian thought as a faint rueful smile found itself on his lips.

She deserved so much better. He sighed aloud as he looked up at the cieling.

~.~.~.~.~

'Why was I back in this situation again? Had she not said that it was over for real then? I guess today is the day it finally became a lie.' Damian stood inside of Raven's bedroom as if he had seen a ghost.

Last time he was here—she was twenty-one. Now he is the twenty-one-year-old and she is twenty-three. Two years had passed since the last time he was in this situation—in her room—watching her cry herself raw on her bed.

And yet Damian knew—it has to be about him again.

Garfield.

His right eye twitched at the thought. An empty smile on his lips as he looked at Raven sob.

'Didn't you say it was over—so what is this.' The words never came out of Damian's lips, but it almost had but she felt his intentions. And if Damian had known that his thought had been conveyed to her through his emotions—then maybe he'd think: for the first time she finally noticed my feelings.

Raven noticed that Damian had entered her room—how could she not with what he was emitting. It has been so long since the two were in this situation. It had been two years to be exact. And she felt guilty—because the last time he had comforted her in here—she said her and Garfield were really done.

And here she is—the proof of a lie.

"I—" Raven tried to muffle her cries but failed. "Him and I—we hooked up." And to Damian those words were crushing but not as crushing as what the word 'hooked up' entailed. Was she—she couldn't be— "And so we secretly dated after that." Damian couldn't help but sigh when he heard her say that.

It wasn't as bad as the thought of Raven being pregnant. He thought that he must be an awful person for thinking such a thing.

"But then… does that mean—" Damian looked at Raven in confusion, piecing something together in his head. How long has she been lying?

"For almost a year." She softly sobbed as she wiped a tear away. Damian felt like he had been punched. A year. He had been trying to make her happy for two—but that one year—that half time he placed in effort, even when it was masked mostly as group activities—was happiness that Damian was not able to give her—but Garfield had.

And Damian simply saw the truth of the matter, the recent year when Raven seemed even more happier than the last—it was not because of him. He should have known. No—he must have noticed—Ah. That is right. He had seen the signs but chose to ignore it.

"Isn't he with that girl named Terra?" Damian asked softly, quite blindsided by the truth. Raven nodded in response and he felt that same old anger he had not felt since that time two years ago—in this room, seeing her nod to his question- return to the surface. A symbol of agreement resulted in an anger that had been buried which was now reignited.

"But they had taken a break when Garfield and I got back together." She quickly added before he could say something and oddly enough that subsided a bit of Damian's anger. "It was just a hookup, no attachment. He was upset and hurt and I was lonely—and we knew each other well." Raven had stopped crying at this point and was picking on her fingertips looking for hangnails with furrowed brows.

She sighed as she looked up at her ceiling as she let her silent tears fall, "It wasn't supposed to mean anything—"

"But the love you had for him was reignited, right?" Damian couldn't help but cut her off with a bite in his tone. And he chuckled—it was empty and shallow. "So, what is it this time? Am I supposed to be surprised you broke up again? Well this isn't the first break up you two had—and last time surely wasn't the last!" A hollow laugh came from Damian as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"God, how stupid!" Damian suddenly yelled and Raven stood up to glare at him.

"How can you call me stupid! I loved him whole-heartedly for seven years and I continued to love him for two more—you don't forget that. Even when it's muddled—it's a fact that I have loved him for so long and invested so much into him—into me—for him and me- us. And even when we broke up—I will always love him. He will always have a special place in my heart." Raven paused to calm herself, the words she was spilling felt as thought she was stabbing herself too. "Even when he broke up with me now—because he realized he loves Terra." She bit her lip and Damian looked at her like she was the stupidest person on earth.

Damian suddenly laughed, it was a rather wholehearted laughter and yet it held such muted grief.

"You think I called you stupid?" He looked at her in the eyes, and something about his stare hinted to a degree of insanity. "You actually think I called you stupid?" He shook his head with a faint smile on his lips as he glanced at the space beside her. "I'm the one who's stupid!" Raven took a step back in confusion as she studied Damian with a knot in her chest—she thought that Damian looked a little mad.

"I like you! For the longest time, I have liked you!" Raven looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. "I might even actually love you—but what do I know—after all—you said it yourself: I don't know what that is like!" Raven looked at him thinking when had she said that, and she realized it must have been the last time they were in this room together when he was comforting her. She had opened her lips to tell her that: that was not what she had meant, but Damian continued on.

"But you never noticed my feelings for you! I was just a fly in comparison to Garfield. Maybe if I wasn't three years younger than you—then maybe you might take me seriously! Or maybe if I had known you first than Garfield—then maybe you would actually look my way!" Damian's stare had started to become a hateful glare. "You know when you two broke up for reals-" He said mockingly. "I thought that maybe—maybe—this was it. This was my chance to get you to notice that I have liked you for the longest time. Maybe this was the moment you would let Garfield go and let someone else show you—just how much you deserved to be treated. How special you are to that one person—how important you are to at least one person." Damian's angry glare softens into resignation.

"It didn't have to be me. It could be anyone." He paused as he pressed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut for a second and he looked at her again. "That is fine. I don't think I deserve that kind of special someone to dote on—and love me." He paused again, but Raven didn't know what to say as he looked down on the floor. "But I wanted you—" He looked back at her again with mournful eyes. "I wanted at least for you, to be happy. I wanted to know that all the years you spent crying over some stupid guy over a stupid little thing because of a stupid relationship—is happy. I wanted that for you." He pressed his lips together as he shook his head and evaded her shock eyes.

And then the silence allowed the two to think of what had just happened. It gave Damian the time to really process what was happening—what he had said and he was shocked at what he had done.

No.

He had just confessed to her.

No.

He looked up at her with a shocked expression, his eyes so wide in realization. He had said aloud the thoughts that have been plaguing him for years, the glimpse of how his thought process has changed as Raven's relationship with Garfield became a bane of his existence—of what he thought was also her's and Garfield's.

Damian's face paled, wishing he could take back what he had just said and done. The secrets and frustration he had held in was finally said. And it sat between them rather heavily.

"I—" They had both spoken at the same time and a pause followed. Damian stared at Raven, unsure who had spoken—was it her or him. Before anything else could be said and done, Damian stormed off with his fist clenched and with long strides close to a dash.

Damian had been punching the sandbag aggressively for almost two hours now following his confession. He was embarrassed and frustrated. And thinking of so many ways to take back what he had said and done. Prior to those thoughts, he had evaluated how he could have handled the situation better.

Damian gave the sandbag a very powerful right punch that the poor weakened sandbag gave in to the hit. His fist was inside the sandbag and as he was about to pull his fist out, the sand spilling out from the hole, he heard Raven calling his name. He turned to his left to look at her with furrowed brows, and her eyes shifted from him and the sand pouring out from the sandbag, her expression worried.

Raven had been calling out to Damian a few times already before he had noticed her. If Damian knew he would be greatly disappointed with himself.

"Damian…" She started at Damian's fist that was still half inside the sandbag.

"Look—forget what I had said. I said it to distract you. I did it as my obligation as the team leader." He said coldly as he fully retracted his fist from the sandbag, more sand poured out from his action. He looked away from her as he checked his fists for damage. He was surprised to see that he had bruised and had cuts on his hands. His right hand had the most damage.

"No." Raven said as she took a step forward, he turned his head at her with a glare. Raven does not back down. "We need to talk about this."

Damian was contemplating how to bolt from this situation and Raven could tell his intentions. So, before Damian could act about his thoughts, she grabbed his fists and he flinched.

"Seriously, we can't have our leader's fists injured." She said as she checked his injuries up close, turning his fists in her hands, taking her time. He was quiet but his jaw was locked and his brows so closely knit to each other.

"I—" Raven looked up at him, straight into his eyes and Damian was startled as his eyes met hers. "I had noticed your feelings before." She softly confessed and Damian's fists clenched, before he could yank his hands away from hers- Raven firmly held his hands in hers. "I had noticed." Her expression seemed to have glazed over and she sighed aloud and dispelled her thoughts.

"I had noticed. But it became overlooked as I was more focused on—other things—" And for a moment her eyes glazed over again. "On Gar." A sad smile on her lips.

"His love overshadowed your little crush on me. I—focused on him and me so much that anything else was just white noise. I forgot that you had a crush—it was just an afterthought that was forgotten." To Raven, Damian looked as though he wanted to yank his hands off of hers and storm off, but with clenched jaws he fought not to. "And I am truly sorry." She said as she healed his hands.

Raven licked her lips and pressed it together but her eyes looking at the ground, "And—yes—our age had been a factor – why I didn't take you seriously. There was one time that I considered the possibility of dating you. And our age gap-" Raven made a displeased face. "bothered me. And three years, I know it isn't much," She glanced at Damian. "But it's undeniable that at some point I was of legal age and you weren't. And that—that unsettled me. But mostly—it's because of my love for Garfield- that made me always overlook your crush. And—I really am sorry."

Raven was looking at Damian with wavering eyes, she felt guilty, but she was also very sincere on her apology.

'This,' She thought. 'is the final push I needed to really move on from Gar.' As she lets go of Damian's hands.

"I hope, everything said and done today—doesn't affect our relationship—in fact I hope it clarified the things between us." Raven said dispelling the guilt she had. "You are a great leader Damian, you always think of everyone, and I guess that is why you never said or did anything that could be permanently damaging to the team."

With that Damian buried the thoughts that he was having, like did he have a chance to be with her now? No—Raven is right—he couldn't risk the team dynamic. But he also came to love her a little bit more. She seemed to always see something more in him, things he could never see in himself.

'It's probably why you never attempted to confess to me—to not add to the mess that was Garfield and me.' Raven had mulled over in silence with a smile that was neither sad nor happy. Which made Damian curious if it was a smile out of happiness or sadness because then he would know the meaning behind her smile.

~.~.~.~.~

Three months after Damian's sudden confession, Raven took the initiative to go to Damian who was in his bedroom.

It was rather late at night but she had made a decision already and wanted to tell Damian at that very moment. The room was rather dark but they were both used to it, their eyes adjusted well or maybe even better at the dark.

After Damian's confession, their relationship was rather strained- how could it not be with such a revelation? But the two worked hard to flatten out the strain and finally they were in a position that was back to normal but never quite the same. But it was perfect—in the oddest way—it was perfect and they were content.

"Damian, I know it's late…" Raven rubbed her left elbow with her right hand. "But with everything that has happened these past few months—I know I have to tell you this now."

Hearing this Damian was worried. "Please Raven, continue." He said as he pats the space beside him, on his bed. But she shook her head in rejection and she avoided his gaze. He understood that the words she was going to say were difficult on her part, and he waited patiently. He quietly observed her as she chewed on her lips and finally sighed.

"I'm planning to leave." The oxygen in Damian's room felt like it wasn't enough for him to breath. And Raven instantly became worried seeing him in a mix of shock and fear. She approached him cautiously, her hand extended towards him. Raven was two steps away from Damian when he suddenly shot up to his feet and she froze as she studied him.

Damian was ashen, his jaw clenched and his fists flexing, but his eyes that were on her—seemed to go through her and in his green eyes she saw him shredding his initial reaction into oblivion. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath and when he exhaled, that was when Raven found herself unfrozen and had touched Damian's arm. She looked up at him, a fear in the base of her throat that felt like it was going to burst, but he only glanced at her in silent confusion.

"I don't plan to leave now—I was just making you aware that I will—maybe in a few months." She blurted out, in order to speak before Damian could. "I think it's for the best—it's still kind of hard to see Garfield. Especially now—no maybe particularly now—because I really want to move on from him."

"He will always affect you." Damian whispered with the smallest hint of resignation. And before Raven could acknowledge it, he added, "It can't be helped, our team and Young Justice cross paths now and then—and recently it seems to be more frequent." His tone was that of a firm leader that Raven completely forgot his previous remark.

"Yes, that is exactly it." She softly agreed. In the silence that followed she realized that she was still resting her palm on Damian's arm, she pulled away quickly and looked away from his general direction.

"I'm not planning to leave anytime soon—so you really don't have to worry about my replacement yet." She said jokingly but he only quietly nodded as he observed her.

Not even a week after Raven's revelation of leaving due to the difficulty of seeing Garfield, the three found themselves in a room in the Titan Tower. Damian was standing in front of Garfield while Raven stood by Damian's left side with her arms crossed over her chest. A rather strained triangle was formed between the three.

"We need your help on this Damian, I'm here to try and convince you." Garfield said as Damian took notes on Raven from the corner of his eyes. She looked as neutral as she could, but he knew that she must be having difficulties seeing him so soon— with Garfield acting as though him and her were not a thing a few months ago.

"I don't think I need convincing, Garfield. If it's an order from the league I cannot say no to it." Damian simply responded.

"Well, that is true, but I guess I am here for formality's sake." He replied but his eyes glanced at Raven, who had caught his eyes and so did Damian.

"Raven is my right hand, and she has been in the team the longest. We will discuss how we can best assist and inform our team." Damian firmly decided, Raven nodded her head, arms still crossed.

"Oh—well—" Garfield glanced at Raven then Damian, "I thought maybe I could—"

"We need to discuss how best to help as soon and as quickly as possible." Damian cuts in, and Raven nodded again silently. Garfield at this point is blatantly looking at Raven. He had intended to try and talk to her, but it seemed that she did not want to.

"I—" Garfield had begun to say.

"We will contact you Gar." Raven quietly said before Garfield could say anything else.

Maybe she did want to talk to him, it's just that they were more focused on the mission and intel he had just provided. Garfield thought as he nodded absent-mindedly.

Damian turned to leave and Raven followed before the conversation between the three could be dragged out by Garfield.

Damian walked quickly to his room and Raven followed absent-mindedly. When they arrived in Damian's room, Raven just stood in the center blankly. Damian cleared his throat.

"I know this isn't the best place to bring you in—" She heard him say and she glanced at her surroundings, realizing where she was. Damian had led her to his bedroom. "But you don't have to participate if you don't want to." Raven simply shook her head.

"No. I am a part of this team; I am just as responsible as you are Damian." And he knew her well enough to know that Raven had made up her mind, and that she will not change her mind. If only he had known then, what would happen in the mission- because he had allowed her to go, then maybe things would be different for him and her.

"I know you wanted to leave because of Garfield—and this happens—if you ever want to leave this mission half-way, I totally understand." Raven looked at him with a gentle gaze, glad for Damian's thoughtfulness. But this was work, she should be able to do this mission. And maybe—this should be the last. And she nodded as she responded to his offer, little did Damian know that Raven was thinking of having this as her last and final mission as a Titan.

A good way to end a bad relationship she supposed—working one last time with an ex she was trying to avoid.

"I need to call in for a team meeting." Damian sighed while shaking his head and putting a hand on his forehead. And she smiled faintly at him, but her mind steered back to a green skinned boy, she still knew she loved.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian did not expect things to turn out like this. They were pushed in a corner, the creature facing his direction trying to spot anyone on his side. Tim was somewhere behind the creature tending to a team member who had fallen. Damian was unsure if Tim was tending a Titan or a member of the Young Justice team from his hiding place behind a car.

Terra attacked the albino twenty-foot creature. And Raven who was on the far side of Damian's general left area, heard Terra's battle cry. The next thing Raven knew was a knot in her heart as she heard Garfield who was in vulture form, screaming Terra's name.

Raven instantly stood up from her hiding place and ran to the center still very far from Damian. Raven saw Terra's body flung towards her general direction and Raven catched her by putting a shield around Terra which slowed and protected her from a dangerous fall. But the act left Raven extremely vulnerable.

Garfield had landed near Damian and shifted back into human form. Raven's eye caught the black eyes of the creature—if you can call them eyes. And she realized what it was about to do, she placed a force field around herself quickly as she reprimanded herself for her stupid move of going out of her hiding place to help Terra out. She knew completely that her decision was impaired due to Garfield screaming Terra's name with such fear. She hated herself for being affected by it.

She hated that she still places him in high regard.

Suddenly—it was quiet. Raven's face twisted into confusion. The shield around her was up, so why did she feel the blood drain from her? She felt rather weak. She heard Garfield screaming her name—she couldn't help but smile. Thinking that Garfield could still scream her name the way he did when he screamed Terra's—was oddly comforting. She turned to look at her left where Damian and Garfield were, confused as she could hear another male call her name.

Raven's eyes landed on Damian's face, a contortion of shock and fear and maybe five other more emotions that she could not quite place. He was screaming her name, looking as though at any moment now, he would run to her. And she was even more confused. She turned back to look at the creature, but with her gaze that was casted down, she noticed what had happened.

Yes, her shield was up. But there was a black spike that passed through her shield. No—it wasn't that it passed through, it seemed that her shield allowed it to—or to be exact her shield couldn't close onto the black spike. She followed where the spike continued on after passing her shield, and she was in a state of serenity to see that it hit her- just below her sternum.

The mix of screams from Damian and Garfield was something she tried to focus her mind on.

Her shield dissipated as she found herself coughing blood, and the black single spike on her chest retracted. She stared at the creature blankly as the spike entered its palm. Raven slowly dropped to her knees; her brows furrowed. She could not think straight.

They were still screaming her name. She turned her head, initially planning to look at Garfield, finding it so very odd to hear him call out her name the way he was. She never knew that he would be worried about him like that after everything they had been through. But when she turned her head to the left, as her body tilted back—it was Damian who her eyes laid on.

And her eyes widened as she realized the truth. She could only hear Damian's screaming now—but she was aware that Garfield was screaming her name too because he was in clear view from where she now laid. But her eyes focused on Damian.

For the first time she had seen and felt Damian's fear, something she was certain he couldn't express prior to this moment in time. She could just feel him telling her not to give in, but her eyes were droopy. She felt tired.

And for the first time she truly felt his feelings for her. The rawness—the intensity. How could she have missed it?

Raven tried to extend her hand to Damian, feeling rather guilty—and hoping she was at least able to convey her apology though the act. But it was so very difficult to keep her eyes open.

'I should have known.' Raven thought as she tried to keep herself conscious. 'I shouldn't have taken you for granted. I should have given you the chance—I should have taken the chance sooner to move on from a relationship that did me no good.' Raven thought she saw Damian running towards her—but maybe it was just an illusion.

'If there is some other life—I wish to give you a chance. I wish to be happy with you.' She swore to herself.

And her eyes fluttered shut. Raven was unsure if she indeed felt her body being lifted up from the ground. Damian held her gently in his arms as he glared at the creature's back who was currently distracted by Tim on the other side.

'I should have seen and felt you. I am a pathetic empath for missing such an important thing. It was clearly so obvious—and clearly in front of me. You do love me Damian, I wish I could tell you that. You had loved me for the longest time—and I did not notice.

It's pure and true—it is still love; The love I have been wanting—I'm glad I got it from you.' Raven silently confessed to herself, the words she wished he could hear, she wished that she could have confessed it to him.

~.~.~.~.~.

This is a 3-part one shot.

Finale: Reciprocate III: The After

Tumblr: Eleanore_Delphinium

A03: Eleanore_Delphinium

FF: karencow

[red-jaebyrd]

Somebody That I Used to Know

Here is the long awaited sequel to “My Brother’s Keeper”. Sorry it took so long I was in in the process of moving out of state. Thank you to @brokenhearted-queen for your awesome beta work! I really appreciated it.

This wasn’t part of the plan, but since Jason and his brothers had arrived in Bludhaven nothing had happened according to their plan. They weren’t supposed to make contact with Ric this soon, this fast, but it happened. They had agreed in the beginning to simply sit back, watch him, and make sure he was safe from The Court of Owls.

As far as Jason knew The Court had been trying for years to acquire Dick to their cause to become their Talon. In each encounter they were not successful. Opportunity struck when Dick had been shot in the head. What better opening did an evil organization need to swoop in and take advantage of an asset with amnesia? Jason, Tim and Damian could not allow that to happen, which meant they had to get to Ric first.

The plan eventually was for Jason or Tim to insert themselves into Ric’s life and keep him safe away from the Court.  Acquire the intel they needed to further implicate The Court and figure out a way to reverse the damage they had done to Dick and hopefully fix it.

But then Ric’s cab broke down and Jason had a crisis of conscience. He couldn’t in good faith just leave Ric with a busted cab on the side of the road, so Jason helped and then got invited to have a beer. It was only supposed to be one night; one beer and Jason would disappear and “run into” Ric again at a later time.

Except Jason’s curiosity had got the better of him and he had allowed himself to get attached. All those nights talking with Ric, Jason came away learning new things about himself and  his long lost brother, or rather, a man that looked a lot like his brother, but wasn’t his brother. Jason found that Ric was very easy to talk to. Not that talking to Dick was difficult, but sometimes conversations with Dick would turn into the older man telling Jason what he should have done, rather than just letting Jason talk.

Jason had discovered that he could truly talk to Ric about everything, especially all the shit that had happened to him lately like losing Roy and the fallout with Bruce. To his surprise there was no judgment from Ric, just empathy; no unsolicited advice, just commiseration. It was unsettling yet welcoming as Jason began to realize that this was the exact brotherly relationship he had always wanted with Dick. How fucked up was it that it had to take a bullet to the brain and amnesia to make this happen for both of them.

Before Jason knew it, he and Ric were becoming fast friends. Ric didn’t suspect a thing and everything was going back to the original plan. Only this time, they had an active eye on Ric instead of solely relying on CCTV footage.

All of it was going great until that fucking Talon had attacked them, Jason and Ric had moved together, fought together in sync like no time between them had passed. Like a bullet to the brain hadn’t changed anything between them. Muscle memory had taken over and Ric was not letting up. It had been just like old times all those years ago out in the field as Robin and Nightwing fighting and kicking ass. The victory had shattered when Ric called him ‘Little Wing’.

All the air had left Jason’s lungs as the familiar nickname reached his ears. Ric saw it too as his smile faltered realizing the strange name that had come out of his mouth.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ric stared wide eyed at Jason, his breaths coming in ragged as the fight had ended. “What just happened? I don’t know why I called you that. Why did I call you that?”

Jason looked around. They were out in the open standing over an unconscious assassin in plain sight. This was not the place to have that conversation.

“Later, not here. It isn’t safe,” Jason said in clipped tones. He grabbed Ric by the shoulder and steered him toward his car. “I promise I’ll explain everything. Get in the car.”

Ric was quiet the whole ride to Jason’s apartment while Jason told him everything; how Jason knew him; how long they had known each other and their connection to Bruce Wayne. But once they got inside, Ric didn’t hold back and Jason couldn’t blame him.

“All that time pretending to be my friend, was it all an act?” Ric snapped.

“No, I wasn’t pretending,” Jason confessed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Was I just another case to solve, another problem to fix?” Ric shouted, gesturing wildly at Jason and pacing the small space of the living room. “Or was it all just… just a means to an end…to get what you wanted; to get him back.”

The accusation sucked, but it wasn’t that far from the truth. Jason glanced over and saw Tim eavesdropping near the hallway. Jason motioned for Tim to come into the room. Tim hesitantly inched his way slowly next to Jason waving nervously at Ric. Ric ignored him.

“No, it wasn’t like that, Ric. I swear,” Jason sighed, putting his hands out in a calming gesture. He looked over at Tim for help.

“He didn’t lie about his name, only about who he was to you, or used to be to you, to Dick,” Tim rambled talking with his hands and almost hitting Jason in the face. He quickly shoved them in his pockets. “Not everything was a lie; he just didn’t provide specific details about how he knew you.”

Ric glared at Tim causing the teenager to look away in shame. Tim quickly shuffled way from Ric and Jason and sat on the couch.

“Really not helping, Tim,” Jason sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation.

Ric looked up and finally noticed Damian who was edging into the room from the hallway. Ric’s jaw clenched in anger. “You’re working for him!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at Damian. “Did he…did Wayne hire you to find me?”

Damian shrunk under the accusation. He looked close to tears even with a scowl on his face. This was getting worse by the minute. The boy stomped off to the kitchen out of sight from Ric.

“Bruce didn’t send us. We’re not doing this for him,” Jason scoffed. “Fuck that. We’re doing this for us, for you. You belong with us, not here on your own.”

Ric crossed his arms in defiance. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own before you guys came along and fucked things up.”

“Bullshit!” Jason argued, leveling a look at Ric. “You’re waking up in strange houses, drinking all the time to numb the pain and dull your memory from all the nightmares. I’ve seen it. I’ve heard it from your own mouth what those nightmares do to you. Your memories are coming back and you're scared shitless.”

“Fuck off!” Ric bellowed, stalking away from Jason toward the dining room table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Jason had hit a nerve. He glanced at Tim and hoped he saw it too. Tim nodded and headed to the desk grabbing a thick file folder from the top drawer.

“You have to believe us when we tell you that you’ve been played by the Court of Owls this whole time,” Tim interjected, handing Ric a thick file folder. “They took your memories of us with a regimen of drugs and deep hypnosis. They knew that taking away your memories of us would make it easier to groom you into their Talon. So if anyone lied to you, it was them, starting with Dr Haas.”

Ric haphazardly flipped through the documents in the file and then set it down on the table in front of him. He jammed the heels of his hands in his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t do this right now.” He crossed his arms angrily and turned to Jason, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I thought you were my friend, but you lied to me.”

“I -” Jason started, but shook his head in frustration.

But that was just it; Jason had never lied to him at least not about anything they had talked about at The Prodigal. He may have omitted names in their discussions as well as certain details concerning their shared history, but Jason was truthful about everything else. All of their conversations were based in truth. Jason made sure he had never lied to him, not like Dick had done all those years ago while he was ‘dead’. It still pissed Jason off whenever he had thought about it.

“You know, I didn’t have to say yes to that beer, but I did and let’s just say a part of me was curious to see you.” Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I wanted to see if you remembered me, but I didn’t need you to remember. In all honesty I didn’t want you to remember so imagine my immense relief when I met you and you didn’t have a clue who I was. I was just a random stranger to you.”

Jason walked over to the table positioning himself next to Ric who was still standing in front of the table staring daggers at the folder. Jason leaned against the table and tilted his head to get Ric to look at him.

“And every time we sat down and had a beer, all the baggage and history of all the horrible shit I had done in the past was not rubbed back in my face by the guy who had my brother’s face,” Jason continued. “The ‘Golden boy’ was gone and in his place was this guy, my friend who never offered a lick of advice to me but instead just listened to my bullshit without judgment. I got to do the same in return for him with no agenda of jogging memories. It was perfect.

“So yeah, I’ll admit that I took advantage of a bad situation. I bent the truth a bit and left out certain details. But, I never lied to you, not like you lied to us all those years ago.”

Ric’s head snapped up at Jason’s last sentence. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Jason, low blow. Now’s not the time for this discussion!” Tim cut in standing between Jason and Ric.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Tim and crossed his arms. Tim opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. Instead he shook his head and walked away leaning against the wall. Jason took a deep breath and refocused his attention back onto Ric.

“Once upon time you faked your own death and didn’t even let us in on the secret.” Jason said coldly. “For months we thought you were dead. Don’t remember that do you, Dickie? Well it sucked.”

Ric rubbed his right cheek and returned his focus to the contents on the table.

“You said your lie was to protect us, but it was really to protect you, to protect Bruce, to protect the mission. You put the mission ahead of us, because that was what we had been taught. It’s how he raised us in this life.”

Jason slumped in the chair next to Ric and caught a quick glimpse of him biting his lip. Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he continued.

“And you know what, as much as it sucked, being lied to by you and believing that you were dead, I get it now. I get why you had to lie and carry that secret. So yeah, I kept who I was from you and I put ‘this mission’ ahead of your feelings, but I did it because you’re a Rob-.” Jason stopped to clear his throat. “…because you’re our brother. I did it because that’s exactly what Dick did for us.”

“I’m not him anymore. I-I don’t…” Ric shook his head, gesturing at an old picture of Dick from the file folder. “I –I really don’t know who I am right now.”

Jason closed the file folder and pushed it out from Ric’s reach.

“I know who you are. You’re my friend, Ric and like I told you at the bar, you’re still the same guy I met on the side of the road with a broken down cab,” Jason reaffirmed. “You’re still the same guy I have beers with and play pool. And you’re right. You’re not Dick Grayson, but that’s not gonna stop us from trying to protect you from yourself and every other motherfucker lining up to take advantage of an amnesic former vigilante.”

“How do I know I can trust you guys?” Ric challenged, crossing his arms and leveling a look at Jason.

“You don’t, but just hear us out,” Jason said, getting up and pulling out a chair for Ric. “If you don’t like what you hear you can leave. We won’t stop you.”

Ric furrowed his brow at Jason for a split second but sat in the chair keeping his arms crossed.

“Excuse us for a second,” Tim said as he steered Jason by his sleeve into the kitchen out of earshot from Ric.

“What are you doing?” Tim whispered loudly as he kept his grip on Jason’s sleeve.” We can’t just let him leave.”

“We can’t force him to stay.” Jason retorted, yanking his arm out of Tim’s grip.

“The hell we can’t.” Tim argued. “Damian and I worked too hard on this to give up now.”

“Do you think I want to let him leave? You don’t think I want to tie him to a chair and make him stay? We can’t force him to stay, otherwise he’ll take off and then what?” Jason snapped. “Once he hears everything we have to tell him, he isn’t going anywhere.”

“You better know what you’re doing, Todd.” Damian said, glaring at Jason as he opened the cupboard to retrieve the box of tea bags.

“I do. Stay in the kitchen, understood.” Jason instructed, putting his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Tim and I will handle this.”

Damian nodded, placing a teabag into the mug and pouring hot water into it.  

Jason and Tim made their way back into the living room to talk to Ric. Jason’s palms started to sweat at the thought of getting this all wrong and Ric storming out of the apartment in anger. Jason was already taking a risk by giving Ric permission to leave if he didn’t like what they had to say. But Jason had to remember that they weren’t showing Ric video footage of his shooting, nor were they force-feeding him memories of Dick Grayson and his old life. They were simply explaining their presence in Bludhaven and showing Ric evidence of him being duped by The Court.

Tim kept wringing his hands despite the determined look on his face.

“This is gonna work, Tim,” Jason reassured squeezing Tim’s shoulder. “Like you said, you and Damian worked too damn hard collecting evidence and research. He’ll believe us.”

Tim nodded, swallowing thickly.

He watched as Ric fought to sit still in the chair. Ric uncrossed his arms and leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs. He ran a hand up and down his neck in exhaustion before massaging his temples. He then straightened up, crossed his arms again, and started bouncing his knee up and down so fast Jason was surprised Ric’s calf wasn’t burning. He looked like a spring ready to snap and hightail it out of the apartment. Finally Ric got up from the chair to pace the space of the living room. Jason knew he wouldn’t last long sitting still.

“We were only going to keep an eye on you and not interact until absolutely necessary,” Jason explained entering the living room from the kitchen.

Ric continued to walk around the apartment. He looked like he was listening, the tension in his shoulders was still present, and Jason could also see the muscles working in Ric’s jaw. Jason glanced at Tim to take over.

“We hadn’t planned on ever really talking to you…” Tim continued clearing his throat. “…not this soon at least. Our main intention was just keeping you safe, because you’re important to us.”

Ric finally stopped pacing and turned around to face Tim.

“I don’t know you,” Ric said flatly. “I barely know Jason.”

Tim’s shoulders sagged in defeat at Ric’s words and Jason could see the muscles in Tim’s jaw clenching. Jason knew the kid was fighting back tears. Jason walked over to Tim blocking his view of Ric and gave him a one armed hug. It wasn’t a Dick Grayson hug, but it would do in a pinch.

“Kid, you alright?” Jason quietly asked crouching at Tim’s level to get him to look at him.

“I will be,” Tim sniffed and took a deep breath. He plastered on a fake smile that did not reach his eyes and returned his attention to Ric.

“I know you don’t know me, but you trust Jason and I know a part of you wants to trust me too,” Tim reasoned, leveling a look at Ric. “Deep down your gut is telling you that we are important to you too, isn’t it?”

Jason watched as Ric’s shoulders slumped and his anger deflating as Tim’s words sunk in.

Ric stalked over to the table toward the file folder and opened it. He thumbed through it slowly and thoroughly.  Jason and Tim watched as Ric took in all the evidence Tim and Damian had collected over the last few weeks. Photos, notes, detailed documents of his past medications and prescriptions and their intended effects on the nervous system, particularly his. Ric sunk into the nearest chair as he held aloft a sketch of his neurologist, Dr Haas.

“This is all so fucked up,” Ric turned to give them both his full attention still holding the picture of Dr Haas. “So what you’re saying here, what these documents are saying is that I was drugged and hypnotized with suggestive thoughts to alter my memories so that I could be lured into an old secret society called “The Court of Owls’?”

“Sounds far-fetched but it’s on par with their reputation,” Jason added.

“Yes, you are the key to them continuing their work,” Tim clarified, pointing out certain photos of the Court to Ric. “You are who they refer to as the ‘The Gray Son of Gotham’. Their intention was to raise you into taking over your great-grandfather’s position, to be their Talon, basically their enforcer.

Tim pulled out a chair and sat next to Ric.

“We wanted to get close, but not so close that we would give ourselves away to you.” Tim continued, talking nervously with his hands. “That all backfired when Jason ‘met’ you sooner than we had intended. Still, the meet proved to have been beneficial because now we had an active eye on you.”

“So you were spying on me?” Ric quipped. “Were you also wearing an earpiece?”

“No,” Jason retorted, appalled that Ric would even suggest such a thing.

“Jason wouldn’t wear one,” Tim replied nonchalantly.

“Shut up, Tim.” Jason said through gritted teeth.

Jason turned to Ric. “Everything I ever said to you was never made up or fabricated. Again, I never lied to you. I swear. I just omitted names and certain details. Everything you told me, I never shared outside the bar. I promise.”

“Ric, are your memories coming back?” Tim asked.

Ric cringed at the question, his shoulders inching toward his ears. He swallowed thickly and looked over at Jason. Jason gave him an encouraging nod to answer the question.

“Yes, I think so,” Ric answered, looking down at the file folder and thumbing through the photos. “Mostly in dreams, but tonight was the first time I remembered something while I was awake. I think the muscle memory of fighting that Talon with Jason triggered something.”

“How so?” Tim probed.

“I called Jason ‘Little Wing’. At the time I didn’t know why I said it,” Ric explained. “It just came out as the most natural thing to say to him, but in the car I remembered that I used to call you that when you were younger?”

“When we had fought together as Robin and Nightwing,” Jason finished. “I hated the nickname at first, but I learned to like it later on. You still call me that now even if I’m not so ‘little’ anymore.”

Ric nodded and rested his chin in his hand and slowly scrutinized every piece of paper in the file folder with his free hand. He didn’t say a word the whole time. His brow furrowed in thought as he read page after page of notes. Ric’s silence was starting to unnerve Jason. He was still always so used to Dick being chatty regardless of his emotions. It was what made him annoying and endearing all at the same time. Jason had to remind himself that Ric wasn’t Dick. Maybe silence was how Ric liked to process things.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham,” Ric said breaking the silence. “I’m not ready to see – I don’t want to see Bruce just yet.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going back there for a while,” Tim assured. “It really isn’t safe to go there. We’re going to lay low here for the time being. You can stay here until we clear this mess with The Court.”

“It’s just that everyone who says that they know me keeps wanting me to be someone I can’t remember and I can’t handle it right now if he…”

“You don’t need to be anyone other than yourself, Ric. It’s okay. No one here is going to tell you how you should or shouldn’t be living your life.” Jason said the last sentence louder so it carried over to the kitchen. “Right?”

“Correct,” Damian answered from the kitchen.

“We’re still interested in getting to know you. Will you give us a second chance, please?” Tim asked. “We won’t push an old life you can’t remember down your throat.”

Just as Ric was going to answer Tim he stopped and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? Is the old man here?”

“Alfred? No, it’s just the kid making tea,” Jason replied, his mouth going suddenly dry.

The smell wasn’t just from any ordinary tea. The scent was of home and comfort that brought with it memories of simpler times when a cup of tea fixed everything. The rich aroma of Earl Grey tea filled the living room and flooded Jason with memories of sad times turned to happiness with a simple cup of tea with Alfred. Jason almost couldn’t take it. Tim stared at him with wide eyes. Ric looked lost in a memory triggered by the strong scent of bergamot. It was Alfred’s comfort tea. At least that is what Dick had named it all those years ago when they had tried to coax Jason out of a bad mood. It was the type of tea Alfred had made on bad days that contained just enough caffeine to counteract anything from crying jags to bad moods. It was the tea he’d make in the special Robin’s Egg blue teapot with matching cups. It was Alfred’s way of comforting them the only way he knew how, with a cup of tea and a listening ear.

Jason didn’t even know he had Earl Grey tea in the apartment. Alfred must have stocked his pantry with it the last time he was here and now Damian had found it.

Damian walked into the room handing a steaming mug to Ric. “Drink this. It –.”

“–will make you feel better,” Ric finished. “He – he used to say that to me on bad days while he handed me a cup of Earl Grey tea.”

Damian sat in the empty chair next to Ric, cradling his own cup of tea. “He said it to all of us, Richard.”

Silence filled the apartment as Ric and Damian drank their tea. Tim gathered the scattered contents of the file and placed them back into the folder. Jason made his way into the kitchen to collect himself. He slumped against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath.

The evening’s events replayed themselves in his mind’s eye. Jason shook his head as he thought about what they could have lost tonight. They got lucky that Ric hadn’t bolted out of the apartment and disappeared. Tim had known that playing to Ric’s instincts would pay off. Jason had known that if he stated his case and showed the evidence, the detective buried inside of Ric would wake up and believe them. It had been a gamble, but it paid off. Jason rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Exhaustion was starting to settle into his bones.

“Hey, you okay, you’ve been in here a while,” Tim asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“I’m fine. What are they doing now?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“They finished their tea and now Damian is trying to get Ric to play ‘Cheese Vikings’.”

“Is it working?”

“I think Ric is warming up to him. They’re no longer scowling at each other, so that’s progress.”

Jason nodded.

“What’s wrong, Jason?” Tim asked, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “You did it. You brought him back to us.”

He knew he should be happy, relieved that all four of them were finally under the same roof. But Jason couldn’t help but feel like he was slowly losing his friend. He didn’t go into this to just get Dick back, even if that is what he had told Tim and Damian at the start. He went into this to also keep Dick safe. But then he met Ric and they had gotten to know each other, which is when everything got complicated. There was always the possibility of Ric getting his memories back, that was a given; and with getting those memories back there was the possibility of Jason losing his friend. Jason just thought he’d have more time, but then that Talon fucker attacked them and Ric had called him ‘Little Wing’, and all bets were off.

Was it even possible at this point to have his brother back and still keep his friend? Jason didn’t know.

Jason grabbed two beers from the fridge. He opened one and took a swig.

“I’m happy he’s safe now. It’s just been a long night.”

Jason wasn’t going to bother explaining his apprehension to Tim. The kid was finally smiling after months of wearing a perpetual scowl to match Damian. There was no doubt Tim was happy that Ric decided to stay with them, and he should be happy. He and Damian worked damn hard collecting and curating all that evidence just to prove to their brother that he had been duped by the very people that were supposed to be helping him.

“You’re lying.”

Jason glared at him. “Just drop it.”

Both of them made it out of the kitchen and into the living room with Ric and Damian. Ric now had a controller and seemed to be doing an okay job navigating the game.

Jason handed the unopened beer to Ric and sat in the armchair next to the couch.

Ric handed the controller back to Damian to open his beer and took a drink.

“You know, I’m still a little mad at you,” Ric groused with no heat in his voice.

Jason smirked. “I know, but you’ll get over it.”

[jawritter]

Broken Me...

Ch. 4

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunately have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Language, sad Jensen, touch starved, angst, fluff if you squint.. I think that’s it for this chapter...

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2265

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

“Jensen?” You hiss, looking up and down the hall, and then back at your sleeping friend before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind you..

Jensen stepped back a little in the narrow hallway, not wanting to crowd you, shifting his feet a little uncomfortably before looking back up at you with an almost a shy expression covering his face.. 

"Hey." 

You more than a little dumb founded, of all the people you expected to see standing in outside your motel room door in the middle of the night, Jensen was not one of those people...

You couldn't tell if he was angry or not. Personally you felt like everything was your fault. 

You didn't know why, but there it was... 

He and Danneel had obviously separated before he got here... 

Still you couldn't help the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach... 

So you stood there examining your feet... Waiting for him to say something else...

"Hey." You echoed him.. Needing desperately to break the silence that had fallen between you. 

"Let's go grab a coffee down stairs, I think I owe you an explanation." He finally said after what felt like forever. 

You still couldn't look up at him for some reason, a strange feeling crossed between shame and confusion from all the drama making you feel more than a little stressed to even be seen with him in public right now..

"I'm a little underdressed." 

You were wearing an oversized, faded black shirt  that had Stewie from a Family Guy holding a bazooka on it that said 'I don't play well with others', and a pair of pink, purple, and black plaid pajama pants and ankle socks.

Jensen laughed slightly. 

"You look fine sweetheart, and besides, I'm not much better off."

Curiosity got the best of you at that point, making you really look at him for the first time since he knocked on your door..

He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, red and black pajama pants, and flip flops. His hair was sticking up at cute random angles, and his face was a little redder than normal, his eyes had an unnatural red tent to them, and looked as if he’d either had a little too much to drink earlier, or he had been crying.. It was hard to tell which...

"It's like 3 am, nobody is gonna be down there." He said, shifting his feet uncomfortably on the floor, and looking around the hall... 

He was a mess....but he still looked attractive as ever…

He hadn't shaved all day, so he had a nice five o'clock shadow going, and even though he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed after a long night out he still looked beautiful. 

There was a look in his deep green eyes… One you didn’t quite understand that just wouldn’t let you turn him away...

"Fine, let me grab my wallet." 

You turn to open the door to your room, but he quickly stops you as if you go into the room, you will just leave him hanging in the hallway... 

"I'll pay." He said, reaching out and grabbing your hand in his, then quickly letting it go as if he’d crossed some unseen line. 

"Okay." 

You silently followed him to the elevators and watched as he pushed the button to the bottom floor, both of you riding in silence, not saying anything until you both had your coffee ordered from the tired looking girl behind the counter, and found a booth in the very back of the kitchen/ eating area of the hotel..

There was nobody in sight. Just the desk clerk, and the girl working for the coffee shop. The hotel was almost eerie quiet compared to all the cayos and movement of earlier today with fans and vendors working throughout the hotel, now it was all but deserted...

"I'm sorry about what Danneel did." He finally said almost in a whisper, staring at his untouched coffee cup that was sitting in front of him. "You didn't do anything wrong, and you didn't deserve that. She was just pissed, and was attacking me. Still you shouldn't have been caught in the crossfire." 

He looked exhausted when he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing it harshly, and you just wanted to reach out and hug him..

"You can't control what she does Jensen. Don't worry about it. It's not that big of a deal." You tell him, not wanting him to feel like he owed you anything.

You definitely didn’t want him to feel like he owed you any sort of apology or pity..

"I read the comments." He said, staring you down now, his eyes are cold and hard, emotionless, and that’s just not like him at all. From what you’ve seen online anyway.

"It is a big deal. She was trying to make me look bad. Like I was the one who did wrong, and I didn't do shit." He said flatly, clenching his fist on the table in front of him. 

"I came home early from Vancouver. I was going to surprise her. When I came through the door I found her fucking a cashier from our brewery in our living room." He said, still staring you down.. 

You didn't realize your mouth was hanging open until he smirked at you.

"Yeah that was pretty much my reaction too." He gave you a hollow laugh under his breath. "I stormed out and drove here. When I got here I called her and in so many words told her it was over. I was filing for divorce." 

He wasn't looking at you anymore, just rambling like he needed to get all this off his chest. 

"She said it was my fault she was cheating on me...... Said she was lonely, and I was never home...." He broke his sentence looking down at his lap taking deep breaths to steady himself. The unshed tears forming in his eyes was enough to make your heart want to stop beating.

Reflexively you reach across the table, and touch his hand, he stiffened, but didn't pull away. 

"None of that is your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve what she did. As far as the post to the internet... You're the one that has to get up there in front of a room full of people to answer their......question." You tell him, but he's still just staring you down coldly…

But he hasn't moved his hand... 

The man was hard as stone... 

You could tell this had cut him deep... 

It's not something he would just get over or be okay with in a month or two, this was going to take him some time to get past everything she’d done to him, and you had a feeling it didn’t start today with the cheating, but he had been manipulating him and using him for awhile now..

"You don't even know me.......why are you being nice to me right now........ Is it because I'm famous.... I have money..... What, what's the reason you didn't tell me to go fuck myself like you rightfully should have? I pulled you on stage. I'm the reason there was even a video for her to post." 

You hadn't noticed until he'd stopped speaking he had laced his fingers in yours. 

It shocked you.....

His words were hard, but it was like he was doing all he could to seek affection and comfort from someone..

"You didn't do anything wrong. She's the bitch that made a post out of a damn cell phone video." You tell him, becoming a little distracted by his thumb making little circles on the back of your hand. 

"I don't care about your money, you can keep it. I don't care about you being famous. If you were a UPS driver or somebody flipping burgers at Burger King you still deserve to have better than what she’s done to you. 'Cause you were gone a lot and they were lonely.' That's the biggest bullshit statement I've ever heard, and definitely not a valid excuse for someone to be unfaithful." 

He was looking down, jaw clenched, so you decided to stop talking. Not knowing if you were pissing him off, or if he was just tired of talking about it because it was still pretty fresh.

"She wasn't the only one that was lonely." He said, one hand spinning his untouched coffee on the table. "She at least had the kids. I had nobody." 

You sit watching as his walls slowly start to come down, walls you didn’t even know were there until they started to crumble.. 

"I came home a little early cause I wanted some time alone with her... You're not human if you don't crave intimacy from someone, and I’m not talking about sex... Just to have someone to hold while you sleep... Someone when you wake up in the middle of the night you can roll over, and wrap up with so you don't feel so alone......so empty...... I just wanted to be able to be in contact with another person... Just for a little while before I had to be alone again." He still had a grip on your hand, but he still wouldn’t look at you, not directly. Like he was a little ashamed of his own confession.

You were pretty pissed at Danneel before you got down here, but now, now you were even more pissed. 

It wasn't fair what she did to him, she didn’t deserve someone like Jensen.... You wished someone would crave you like that, just to be near you… Yet she threw it all away...Then tried to blame him for her fuck up... 

"I wish I didn't feel so alone." He said, taking his hand from yours. You already missed his warm hand wrapped around yours. Your skin is still tingling where he’d been touching you.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just dumped all that on you. Come on I'll walk you back to your room. It's 4:30 in the morning, we both need to get some sleep." He said abruptly, standing and waiting for you to do the same. Walls firmly back in place..

The elevator ride to the 5th floor was a quiet one, and the walk to your room was just as quiet. You both stop in front of the door, facing each other. 

There was a look on his face you didn't recognize, pain, fear, loneliness maybe…

"Well I'd say goodnight, but... It's kinda already morning." You say, putting your hand in the door. 

Without saying anything Jensen pulls you by your waist into his chest, and for a moment you were too shocked to move, until you hear him take a very unsteady breath. The both of you just stood there holding onto each other for the longest. 

Finally, when you looked up at him, his eyes were unfocused, his mind somewhere else. Reaching up in a moment of boldness you touch the side of his face, bringing him back down to reality...

"Where is your room?" You asked, he looks at you confused. 

"Very end of the hall." He said, jerking his head in that direction. 

You break away from him and grab his hand, you lead him that way. He followed alone behind you, quiet and confused.. When you stopped at the last room he unlocked the door, still confused, but he held it open for you to come in.

Stopping just inside the door he turns to face you, his face guilty, and pained. 

"I'm sorry I can't do this." He breathed out, but before he could get too carried away you reached up again touching the side of his face. He leans into your hand without realizing what he was doing.. Or maybe he did… He was a hard person to read when he was acting, and this was no different...

"We're not going to do anything." You tell him, grabbing his hand leading him to the side of the bed. 

"I just couldn't stand the thought of you alone again tonight." 

Understand hit him hard, and the walls around him broke again, this time like a dam, letting loose a flood of tears in their wake. 

Lifting the cover he crawled into the bed. Holding the cover up for you to climb in too..

You climbed in the bed next to him, and he wrapped his arms and legs light around you. Taking another deep shaking breath. 

"Thank you." He finally whispers once he gets control of his emotions some...

"Let's get some sleep. You got a lot of people waiting on you in a few hours." You say, running your fingers through his hair, hoping you weren’t pushing him too far.. He was so hurt.. So broken... 

You don't know what gave you the boldness to do this. 

You just could leave him alone. 

Not like that..

Not that hurt. 

Not that alone. 

He didn't deserve what she did. He deserves to be treated like a damn God as hard as he worked for his family. 

Not to be cheated on and lied to.

After only 10 minutes you felt him relax, and his breaths deepen, finally falling into a deep sleep. You drifting off to your own deep sleep wrapped up in the arms of someone you'd had a crush on for almost 15 years. It wasn't even about that at this point though. You Couldn't stand how broken he looked. 

You just wanted to put him back together.

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

Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ 

Binge Tag: @sarahbaker2010​

[carrera-ffxiv]

Eyes Wide Open

Dawn hummed and swayed from side to side in his wake. He glanced over his right shoulder, “You seem to be in good spirits. Hope the aetheryte travel wasn’t too taxing.”

She shook her head softly with a scrunched face and tried to fight the smile that grew at her features, but it bled through. She couldn’t seem to contain it, “Mmn, I’m okay. How are you? I didn’t expect you of all people to drag me out of the clinic. The smell of the ocean is nice...” she listened to the waves ebb and flow along the beach, the sand giving way to her steps. The whole experience was nostalgic: the smell of sea salt along with the cool ocean breeze reminded her of Limsa Lominsa. 

He stopped along the way and looked out to the water, hands in his pockets. “How’s your eye? Look out there,” he pointed a moment, “What do you see?”

She paused, “Mn… I can see some things. Sometimes. I can see life. Aether. The little fishies out in the distance, the birds flying overhead. The little sea cucumbers and seaweed, and corals. So many corals. Little shimmers of brilliant light floating in the water, a million little lights, it’s beautiful.”

An unimpressed huff came, “Hmph. Not enough. Does it still hurt? What colors do you see?”

She furrowed her brows a bit, feeling judged and apparently not up to par, “It’s… a bit sore, I feel a bit of a dull ache. Oh, uhm… everything’s bits of… blue?”

“You must be healing still. You should be able to see far more than that. You should be able to see elemental aspects of aether, different colors, and more than a few sporadic creatures. Concentrate on mending your eye whenever you get the chance; as in actively engage in healing it at all times, even now while we’re out for a walk. Even while you’re working or lounging at home, make an effort to weave mana and regenerate that connection.” he sighed, looking out to the glimmering sunlight reflecting from the water.

She felt chided somehow, like a child; she wasn’t enough as it was. Hadriel had a way of sounding critical whenever he spoke, even when he was trying to be helpful. “Over here.” he led her up stone stairs right along the beach. She did as he bid her and kept at yet another complex task of managing passive mana expense.

Dawn quickly realized that she hadn’t done that a great job reconnecting her new nerve endings in the first place. She felt a sharp tingling as a million tiny blue lights became a billion, and then a trillion. More detail returned to the world as the seconds passed, and at least through her left eye, she could see the hidden aether along the earth; she saw the tiny blue lights hidden within the sand, stone, and wood. Instead of little lights within the darkness, it was like a whole canvas had lit up. He pivoted after a few steps and she looked up to see a manor the size of the Company estate was before her, right on the beachfront of Shirogane.

“Uhm… where are we?” she hesitated and he answered. “It’s my house. Come.” she could see his form more clearly, reaching out with a hand as he beckoned her forward. “Oh. Well, then. This is nice.” she answered flatly.

Dawn was guided inside and led to his office on the ground floor. He closed the paper partition and moved his way over to the wall of books. Pulling on a series of them, another partition gave way to a hidden entrance; Dawn shifted her head, it seemed like a hallway had opened up in his office. Given the layout, she felt it was where the passageway to the estate rooms in the company would be. She tapped her cheek a moment; if Hadriel had a hand in both designs, it only made sense.

“Well?” he motioned for her to enter. She felt a bit worried as she thought about their last interaction in private, a nervous hum coming from her.

“Look, I’m not going to pluck your eye out or anything so just, come on.” he beckoned again. She took a hesitant step and let her feet do the leading. She felt nervous, a few steps and a turn brought them to a new room.

“So, I wanted to help you prevent anything like what happened to you in Bleakpoint from ever happening again. I want to teach you. Pick something. Whatever calls to you.” Her eyes shifted around and noticed an armory of aether-infused weapons. And books, many books. Everything here was hidden away from plain sight for some reason or another. There were small displays littered around with tiny artifacts and gems.

She shook her head softly, “Who said I wanted to learn how to use a weap-” she stopped; the pendant resting at her chest flared with heat. She silently wandered around the room drawn by an unseen force; a hand finding and resting on a gunblade. It was finely crafted, no doubt. Then a kodachi, a katana, a shortsword, a claymore, countless other blades bleeding out aether. It was almost a beautiful sight, if not for the fact that they were all weapons that were forged for one explicit purpose: death.

Her eyes settled on an elegant curved blade that shimmered brighter than the rest. It was similar to a katana, but perhaps too large and a bit unwieldy. Her grasp was drawn to it and she inspected it. It felt right- it felt like it belonged in her hands. 

“Tsukiyo… I figured.” he sighed a bit with crossed arms as he watched Dawn look entranced at the blade she held in both hands. “It’s an odachi, an Eastern greatsword.”

“Where did it come from?” Dawn asked curiously.

“It’s a blade from a set I forged, three weapons altogether. Two of the three were katanas forged for my friends, Carrera and Adala. The blades were named Taiyogari and Tsukiyo, respectively. Their last sister is mine, Sakegari. Figures that you would be drawn to that blade. To hers.”

She ignored most of his expositional dialogue, “This was hers, Adala’s?” she continued admiring the blade with a touch, her right hand holding the hilt as her left ran along its blade. A saddened tone came from her forlorn demeanor, “This sword… my eye, this crystal, they all belonged to her, didn’t they? Why pieces of your friend? What happened to her?”

“I had her killed. So I could salvage her eye and soul crystal.” It sounded like it was just a simple conversation to him, as if he was listing what he had for breakfast that morning. “I had intended the crystal for my use, and the eye for you, but it seemed like you had the more pressing need.”

Dawn grit her teeth together. Her hand wrapped around the blade and began to bleed.

A hand rested along her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze, “It’s alright. Take a breath. You don’t have any enemies here. What’s done is done.”

Blood flowed freely along the edge of the odachi as trembling hands tried to keep the blade steady. “Oh? You said she was your friend, though. Am I your friend, too?”

“... Yes, you’re my friend.” he answered coldly, knowing full well what she was getting at.

Dawn gushed in a distraught tone, “So, when you need the eye and stone back, I imagine I’ll be gone as well.”

“No. Those are yours to keep. My friends that I spoke of before had or, have, their days numbered, I only expedited her death because you, again, had the pressing need.” he sighed a bit, another squeeze came before he released and patted her head. “One by one, all our days are numbered. My wife, as lovely as she is, can be attached to things. Broken things, and people that might not benefit her. You’re one of those things. Still, I love her so. And so, I help you.”

“But…” Dawn piped up, concentrating, watching the blood dripping from her hand. “You, it wasn’t you. You’d think that it would be you, at least, to send off your friends. But you didn’t. You sent someone else.”

“I imagine that would upset her but I can’t show all my cards just yet. I think a part of her would understand that, and what I’m doing.” He spoke in almost a bitter whisper.

“So, you sent someone else…” she concentrated, her expression pained as she recalled the gunslinger that killed her previous iteration. She began to take in sharp breaths again and kneeled onto the cold marble floor, clearly on the path to something in between hyperventilation, an anxiety attack, and a nervous breakdown.

“Breathe,” he demanded of her, “Breathe and focus. You can do it. You’re in control, no one else.” 

Over minutes, Dawn managed to breathe in and out slowly. Deep breaths. She rested the odachi carefully along the ground and focused on healing, bright white energy sparked from her hand as her flesh mended. “I... I’m not in control.” “… Adala. She’s here too. Right? She’s not happy. You had her killed. Nijah,” she looked distraught as he held onto her own wrist, watching a spark of light searing in her grasp. “You used Nijah to kill her, and now I see her; I see her in my dreams, beating me to death. Because, you thought it some measure of mercy to get your friends to kill each other on my behalf…”

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not all about you, Dawn. Stop sounding so ungrateful. The blade is yours, if you want it. And I’ll teach you how to use it, if you’d like.”

Her temper flared. Her hands shook and she tried to find some measure of control. Her fists tightened and her knuckles grew white from the sheer pressure.

G̷̲̀̑ŏ̴͔͈͔͂̐ŏ̷͇̺̏̀d̴͓͐́́ ̵̨͕̋̋L̶̖̞̙̿u̴̯͓͒̋͝ċ̴̫͉̂̈́k̸̖̘̞̇͝

G̶͔̬̳̱̻̳̠̔̈́ȯ̷̪̺̠̼̯̔͋̇͌͝ȏ̴̱͖̠̮̦̘̎̉͒d̶̲̺͚͍͛͗̿̎̕ ̵͖̣̺̰́́̿́͛͝L̶͓͎̖͍͐̈́̂͘͝ù̶̦̣̥̑͝c̶̣͒̎͂̃̎̓̍͠k̵̩̞̮̮̲͔̅ͅ

G̷̭͉͋̈́̔̆̂̾̒̈́ǫ̷̧̹͔̝͙͍͓̟̼̩͔̓̋̑̂̍̏͆͐̃̽̕͜͠͝͠ͅo̸͓̦̪̰̿̏̄̆d̸̗̟͖͍̳͍̯̭̺͇͎̈́͒̀́͆͆̍̚̚͝ ̴̧͍̠͇͍̘̱̞͕̳̮̀̂̌̚L̶̢̡̢̠͈͚̫̙̪̩͛̿̂̅̇̒̒͐͒͆u̸̡͚̲̩̼̫̯̬̙͙̘̱̟͊̅͗̐́̃͒̚̕͝c̴̢̱̠̟̤̰̀͒̓̆͊̍͗k̸̙̦̯̰̯̗͖̼̾̓̾̋͝

G̶̨̛̬̺̣͔̜͔̹̩̗̠̖̩͙͙͈̻͉̾̏̾̀̈̆́̓̕͝o̷̢̡̝͙̜͉͕̼͚͍̅̒͝ớ̴̞͍̈͛̆̈́̃̊̈́̊͆̐̂̿́̑̃͂̈́͒̀̿d̷̢̜̜̥̤̟̹̞̭̥͈̻̭̟̱̺͇̖̫̔̊͗͋̊̎̒̎̾͜͝͝ ̴̡̢̥͖̤̦̦̦̮͚͝Ḻ̴̛͚̪̱̪̳̦͍̪̦͙͖̫̩͈̜̩̇̋̌́̈́͋͛̾͜͝ų̷̧̨̡̛͕̲̳̼̝̝̪̜̦̳̯̜͖̻̹̖͕͋̀͗̈́̏̄̈̋̌͑̂c̸͓͛̎̈́̈́̄͂̔̚͘ͅķ̵͈͛̾̈́͐̀̔̕̕͝͝͝

Ģ̵̦͍̙̙̗͚̑̓̾̾͊̑̍͝ǒ̶̢̧̧̟̝̖̳͉̫̠̭̠͕̳̦̺̖͙̙͓̭̲͙̙̮̭̯̰̠̒̑̂̉́̈o̷̻͕͎̘̩͉͎̖̯͖̰̦̻̩̬͌̅̆̈͘d̶̢̢͖͚̪̞̫̖̠̖͇͚̝̪̳̭̮͚̦͓̙̲̥̞̳̀̆̀͋́̊́͑̀̒̍̊͗͐̕͜͜͝͝ ̴̡̧̨̢̢̺͎͔͙̯͙̟̹͕̱͔̞͚͓̺͈̩͈̪̲̘̤̣͈͎͚̹͛̏̋͛̾̂͐̇̆̈́̋̉́̓͑͐̊͊͐͐̉̒͐̚͜͜͜͝͝ͅL̸̢̧̨̧̡̛̛̛̩̹̱͙̹̣̘͎̯̪̟̤̣̣̤̥̯͇̼͍̈͋͊̒̀̎̒̌̔͑̎͛̇́̈́̈́̈́̔͛͌́̈́̏̚̕ǔ̵̧̢̦͔̟̻̺̳̮̳͉̹̖͚̥̺̼̖͓̤͉͎̖͓̩̜̳̗̪͕͕̂͆͂͑͗̅̽̋͠ͅc̴̢͚̙̤̙͙̞̮̥̠͈̗̘̙̠̞̫͈̦̤͔̱̳̘̪̬͆̓͐͜k̴̛̲̯̼̪̬͓̆̅̈́̌̂́̿̃̓́̀̑̊͗̕̚̕̚͝͝͝͠ͅ

[agathaharknes]

Okay, hear me out: Yennaia as parents!! (Yennefer comes back from a risky assignment with an unknown artifact. Tissaia touches it and, without anyone else noticing, receives a vision of the future--a future where she and Yen are married and raising a family 👀)

I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE 84 YEARS!!!!!!!! Also, I changed a tiny little thing that I think makes this So much better, so whoever you are, please don’t be mad!

Yennaia prompt: Yennaia as parents. (Yennefer comes back from an assignment with an unknown artefact. Tissaia touches it and, without anyone else noticing, receives a vision of the future- a future where she and Yennefer are married and raising a family.)

LINK TO ARCHIVEOFOUROWN IN THE REPLIES

Word count: 2.6k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

She rubbed her temples, a migraine working its way from the right side of her head to encompass it all. Eyeing through narrowed eyes the books sprawled around her desk, she belatedly noticed that some were threatening to fall off, almost making her chuckle, because no matter how much she might have changed since her conduit moment, Yennefer was still as messy as ever.

Tissaia sighed instead, leaning back into her chair, contemplating changing the contents of her pipe to something stronger than Kaedwenian tobacco, nevertheless, she was called back from her thoughts, just as she was about to summon the herbs, by a loud groan coming from the woman in front of her.

Who by the looks of her, wasn’t faring much better, with both hands clasped together as if in prayer, her forehead resting against them, black silky hair covering the rest of her face from view.

They had been at this for weeks, ever since the mage came back from an emergency call from Istredd, who had found only Gods knew what in those ancient ruins he studied as a saner person might their lover. And from the annoyed twist of her carmine lips and the crackling of chaos around her when the younger sorceress had portalled into her office, the boy had put up quite the fight to give it away to someone that wasn’t from the Council or the Chapter.

(Creating a way to erase memories might just be the Arch-mistress’ greatest achievement, not that anyone would ever know the author behind that particular spell.)

But neither could be trusted with the current political climate, after Sodden… well, everything had gone to shit after Sodden. The only good thing to come out of it being that Yennefer had decided to stay for the time being at Aretuza, then again not without imposing herself on Tissaia, of course, for the Rectoress now had a shadow that followed her everywhere except the laboratory.

Alas, Margarita had taken over her classes, since she was still recovering from the dimetirium, so her overwhelming amount of spare time had been spent trying to figure out what the golden ball in front of them was. A lost cause, probably, now that she considered it coldly.

Even so, hours and hours of hard work had borne no fruits. Nothing in her office, her mind or the immense library her school possessed had given them even clues.

Such an inconspicuous looking thing that it was… The most dangerous kind, if her five centuries alive had taught her anything.

It had slight cracks that looked intentional as if it was holding something on its insides of great importance, yet other than that, it wouldn’t look out of place in the workshop of a famous blacksmith. It certainly didn’t look like something found in an elven gravesite.

There had been moments when it had called to them, yes, to the Arch-mistress and her rebel. Distorted whispers, chants in Elder, beckoning them to touch it, still, they never did. That might just be suicide, considering the sheer power it exuded and after the battle with Nilfgaard, neither sorceress was keen on ending it, no matter how willing they had been on that hill.

‐

“It’s time to accept life has no more to give.”

‐

“You’re worth more than Nilfgaard could ever give you.”

‐

No, they didn’t need any more blood on their already soaked hands, thank you very much. That didn’t mean Destiny agreed with their passivity, though. Those gods-damned whispers. They hadn’t even had lunch!

Fingertips tinted white, Tissaia de Vries, resident Ice Queen, was actually considering throwing the sodding thing into the ocean, from her window office.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Really?” Said the violet-eyed mage and were the Arch-mistress in a better mood or her lungs not burning or exhaustion not weighing down on her like talking to Stregobor at length did, she might’ve listened to her conscious, to her control or just to reason because what she did next was shocking to both her and Yennefer.

She extended her bare hand as if possessed, ignoring the high-pitched wails of the younger mage who insisted she had only been joking, because what else was she supposed to do in this bloody hovel of a castle that was filled with cretins and hormonal teenagers?

The sorceress might have also noticed that her former pupil was just as willing to put herself in the line of fire for her as she had been on the battlefield.

They touched the metal. Together.

And their whole worlds were shaken to the core.

╌

Sitting up so fast she almost fell off the bed. A bed? Blue eyes opened to gentle sunlight coming from the window, the cold air hitting her bare skin, making goosebumps form on her ivory skin.

Looking down on herself she took notice that she wasn’t only naked but on a foreign bed, one that resembled the one in- Oh, fuck.

Cautiously she looked to the person next to her, holding the sheet against her bosom, trying to recover whatever she could of her destroyed modesty. The sight that met her was red, full, lips, her beautiful mouth open so wide her jaw might be dislocated, violet eyes and equally bare olive skin.

Tissaia and Yennefer both screamed.

The younger mage put space between them by jumping out of the bed and thus revealing herself completely to the brunette, who just responded by covering her petite form with the sheets. Hiding in a makeshift cocoon, her hands came up to cover her eyes like a toddler, only to find a wedding band on her ring finger, falling down the mattress, on her arse, accidentally, in her fright.

About to scream some more the pair were startled by a tentative knocking on the door and a child’s preoccupied voice, “Mama, Mummy, why are you screaming? You promised we could sleep in since aunt Rita almost burned down the kitchen yesterday!”

She could perfectly see the pout of the baby girl in her mind’s eyes, the fantasy upsetting her beyond belief, a visceral reaction she had only ever had with one girl out of the dozens she had taught. “It was a bat, it came through the window!” Tissaia responded on reflex, the words out of her mouth before she knew it.

The raven-haired mage followed suit, not knowing what was happening, just that she had the urge to make that tone of hers go away as fast as she could, “We’ll make it up to you! What about pancakes, sweetheart?” Covering her mouth with her hands, she made the same discovery that had the mighty Rectoress of Aretuza reacting like Fringilla was about to throw the powder at her face again.

“Okay! I’ll go tell Duchess!” And with that the girl, who they somehow knew was four and feasted on those pastries as King Foltest had done on wine, was gone, leaving two gobsmacked mages behind. King Foltest was dead.

“Whatever in fuck’s name happened?” Hissed the Arch-Mistress, crawling up to the bed and covering herself with one of the quilts she took from it. She threw with her free hand another one to Yennefer’s face, which the younger mage immediately wrapped around herself like a towel.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one that touched the bloody artefact.” Walking to the wardrobe she pulled out a dress, glaring at the offensive garment for being a plain thing that she would have never in her right mind spent her coin in. Taking, as well, from one of the drawers a shirt and a skirt that could only belong to Tissaia, since they were so small, passing the clothing to the brunette and avoiding her eyes. “And like an idiot, I tried to stop you.”

She made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door closed. “Balance and control, my arse!” After throwing a pillow at the closed door, the brunette put on the outfit, frowning at her reflection in the mirror whilst simultaneously doing her hair up in her normal bun, almost hyperventilating when she noticed that her necklace was nowhere to be seen.

Breathing as deeply and slowly as possible, she went looking for some footwear and found worn boots by what the Arch-mistress assumed was her part of the bed, fastening the shoelaces with her teeth gritted and her hands shaking with electricity. Gods, she knew looked like a bloody peasant and that the pendant was gone and that she was now probably married with a child, but burning the house down with lightning wasn’t going to help matters at all.

Tissaia’s mind had never been this troubled as when she slid down the wall, her head resting against her knees, her arms hugging them. The brunette had dreamed about something like this, for years, decades even, but that was all she let herself have, never thinking she could get over the hurt of allowing herself to embrace it, knowing it was impossible.

Flashbacks assaulted her then, blood coming from her palms as she dug her nails in the skin. The coup on Thanned, Princess Cirilla and the witcher Geralt, the Lodge of Sorceresses and the end of the conflict and then… peace. A wedding. A gift. A baby. Her daughter. Their daughter.

Her whole frame shook, dry sobs coming from her lungs. Teeth biting down on her wounded hand to not make a sound. The grief. The loss. The happiness. The love. It was unbearable and still the best that had ever happened to her. Still a fabricated fantasy.

Inside the laboratory, her violet eyes filled with tears, letting some of them, the most stubborn, fall. This was all she had ever wanted, but not like this. Gods, not like this. From what little she could see they were happy, so happy in this reality and yet she knew it would slip from her fingers like water the moment that fucking ball decided to take this from her.

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to take comfort in applying the green eyeshadow on her eyelids, the lipstick on her lips, as a thousand memories fought for the spotlight in her mind. Gripping the brush so hard she broke it when her clever mind managed to solve the riddle of this existence.

They were in the future.

Racing to the door she opened it with magic, almost tripping in her haste to get to her wife. Stopping dead in her tracks when she saw what Tissaia had been reduced to.

Her thoughts unguarded for the first time she could remember, flowing in the stream of chaos that was always present around her. There were so many things to decipher she just stood still for a few minutes and then her heart broke. The ocean inside her was killing her. “Oh.” She whispered.

“Tissaia.” Yennefer knelt in front of her, taking her hands and healing the half-moon cuts in her palms. Blue eyes fluttering open, the light in them belonging to a broken woman, to a dead one. As she almost made herself. Gods, please, no. Anything but that. Anything. Even so, it was the truth and she was thankful for the knowledge in a way, for the opportunity to stop her, to hide her from the world that would come to want her head on a pike.

She hugged her, burying her face in the crook of her neck, smelling in the scent of her. “Please.” When that wasn’t enough, the younger sorceress manoeuvred them so the woman was on her lap, her chin on the crown of her head, rocking her back and forth, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, until the Arch-mistress was able to pull herself back together somewhat.

Her hand went to her cheek, her thumb caressing her reverently, tears leaking down blue orbs, but not for the reason the mage would’ve thought. “I’ve never wanted anything- I wish with every fibre of my being this was real.” Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she rested her forehead against the brunette’s. Yennefer had never been so grateful for thought transference.

Their eyes opened. Full of love, full of life. This was right. All their sacrifices were worth it, would be, knowing where the path ended, knowing the story ended and began again with them. A decade from where they left, together in that office studying the artefact and the wait couldn’t matter less when this was the endgame.

The door opened, and their gazes landed on a child, half dragging, half carrying a white cat into the room, her white shift barely covering her feet and Tissaia gasped, the familiar tingling in her head warning her of a conduit moment, her daughter’s. “Everything felt so wrong.” The child whimpered and getting off Yennefer as fast as she could she scooped her baby into her arms, Duchess landing gracefully on the floor, looking at the three of them suspiciously.

“It’s fine. Everything is fine now.” The sorceress whispered, blue meeting violet, her fingers moving one strand of chestnut hair behind her tiny ear. Slowly turning to the younger mage, who had clapped to get their attention, a choked sound leaving her throat when she realised just how much like them the toddler looked.

Controlling herself and smiling, the raven-haired mage said, “Now, who wants blueberry pancakes, with lots of honey?” The cat mewed, making the little girl giggle and she knew instantly, who she had taken the sound of her laughter from and putting her olive hand on Tissaia’s, Yennefer guided them down to the kitchen.

╌

She heaved, her hand against her chest, against the coolness of the pendant and she saw the younger mage was the same.

A vision. A gift.

The Arch-mistress tackled the raven-haired sorceress, kissing her for all she was worth. Kissing her again and again, until their bodies protested the magical strain they had just endured, loudly enough.

Frowning, when helping her up instead of happiness she sensed in her aura a deep paranoia. “Darling?” Not meeting her eyes, she answered, fiddling with the cloth of her elaborate skirt, but not letting go of the hand that held hers.

“Yes?” It came in a breathless whisper.

Tissaia grabbed her chin, frowning. “What’s the matter?” She nudged her consciousness with her own, finding steel doors firmly locked, still, she persisted, until she was sure the answer was ready to leave her tongue.

“Now that you know what will happen, will you… will you stop the coup?” ‘Will you change fate? Knowing the price of keeping the Brotherhood?’ went unsaid. Destiny was a fickle, wilful thing and they knew this better than most people. A give and a take, as the still Rectoress had restlessly engrained into her pupils.

The brunette laughed, reminding her of what was awaiting them if they dared. “Of course not.” Kissing Yennefer again to shut her up, she continued, “No. Every great empire has fallen. Every great empire will. I know this. I always have.”

Never in her life had she been this openly honest, vulnerable. She couldn’t bring herself to care. “It’ll hurt me, it might break me, to see what I created in ashes, but if I have to choose… my choice will always be you, Yennefer, it will always be our baby.”

Tears fell from her eyes again, this time the Arch-mistress cleaning them. “My choice will always be the both of you, too. When the world falls into the darkness, which we know it will, please remember I love you.”

“I promise.” She muttered.

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #2

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s favorite torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con.

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“Choose,” Sauron demands coldly, and Maitimo knows better than to disobey.

He’s tried a couple of times, in the beginning, when he was still in possession of his dignity, his clothes, his anger and spite, his hair. It never ended well.

The first time he said no when Sauron ordered him to play along in one of the dark maia’s sick experiments, the enemy crushed his throat by standing on it

seeing as you don’t know how to speak, you don’t need your vocal cords, do you

until Maitimo choked on his own blood and passed out; his voice still doesn’t sound the same. The second time, a considerable length of a Balrog’s whip was shoved up his unprepared behind

if you can’t figure out how to kneel properly, we’ll have to keep you from sitting down, won’t we

and then yanked back out with such force that a lot of charred, stretched flesh came with it. Sauron needed a week to put all of his intestines back where they belong, and Maitimo has been awake for most of the procedure.

The third time when he said no, he had to watch another Balrog spear the restrained body of an elf that Maitimo had known since birth, on the enormous, glowing length of his inhuman cock, inch by painstaking inch, until the screeching screams of agony had turned to bloody gargles.

what kind of leader are you who won’t even suffer to protect his own people

The beast then proceeded to fuck the dying body for another 20 minutes straight, right before Maitimo’s eyes before light of life finally left that poor soldier.

These days, Maitimo knows better than to disobey Sauron.

So he points, dully - with his chin as that is the only part he can move at least half an inch right now - to the middle one of the three spacious jars waiting on the table next to his usual spot on Sauron’s examination stretcher, though he really couldn’t care less. The plain metal vessels all look the same, and none of them will contain anything good.

The movement has his throat tenses up, and Maitimo tries his best not to gag around the thick tube threaded through his ring gag and shoved deeply in his mouth, just far enough to make sure everything coming through it will make it down to his stomach, not far enough to spare him the taste of whatever his tormentor will choose to fill him up with this time.

Maitimo hasn’t eaten in more than two weeks and he should probably be grateful that he will be at least rid of the clenching knot of emptiness that his stomach has become for a few minutes. But he knows Sauron well enough to know, the price for that little moment of comfort will be far too high.

“A smart choice, pet. You are starting to learn.”

Sauron absently pats his belly, then gives a firmer smack to the slightly bulging skin below, and Maitimo groans when his inner muscles clench around the other, much thicker tube deeply lodged in his rectum.

It doesn’t hurt, not like the variety of spiked phalluses and cocks he’s been raped with since being taken prisoner. But it sits far enough inside of him to ensure that whatever Sauron will choose to empty into that funnel at the end of that second tube, will go deeply into his body and not come out anytime soon.

Maitimo could live with that too, he supposes; after almost a year in the misery that is his life now, he’s no stranger to the humiliation of enemas anymore. And as painful as burns from too hot liquid are, as revolting as it is when one of his abusers chooses to fill his abused ass with all the piss they have in them that day, sometimes until Maitimo can taste it on his tongue ... That kind of traces usually go away and heal quickly.

It’s the sound he’s afraid of tonight. Almost as thick as a finger, stretching his limp cock open to its limits, and Sauron hasn’t bothered to lube up that third hollow tube before thrusting it all the way in until it’s bottomed out in Maitimo’s dehydrated bladder. His urethra throbs and stings, and he knows he’s bleeding but that’s not what worries him. Bleedings stop.

It’s the additional sheer helplessness of knowing he’s about to be filled up from several sides at once, and that there’s nothing he can do to control or stop it, that has him shivering in cold sweat and yank in vain on the straps and shackles that tie him down on the table. That keep his scraggy legs up and spread widely, all of his most sensitive parts on obscene, vulnerable display for his captor’s too hot, dainty hand.

Though Maitimo’s struggling is achieving nothing but more sore muscles and a little quiet rattling, of course, Sauron feigns exhausted disappointment. “Now, now, don’t ruin that good impression with fidgeting, pet. You’ve been doing so nicely the last few weeks. You’re on a good way to become my favorite test subject. But you really ...“

The maia’s lithe, tall shape bends down over Maitimo’s bare crotch, the unnatural white of his skin that shows under the low, pointed cut of his black tunic, flushing with just the hint of pulsating red as he stretches out his long forked tongue. With a purr, he licks over the sturdy shining metal protruding from Maitimo’s tortured orifices.

“... need to learn how to keep still.”

Sauron presses down on Maitimo ‘s lower body again, intentionally and harder this time, while Maitimo thrashes against his bonds once more, wailing into his gag when the metal inside his ass and cock heats up within seconds, blistering highly sensitive tissue, eating away at muscle that won’t be working as it should for days. Weeks maybe, depending on when Sauron decides to sing his body back together this time.

“Oh, pet. What did I just say? Looks like I have chosen a good time to help you work on your discipline.”

Sauron feigns another bored sigh, betrayed by the considerable bulge under his tight pants, when he reaches for the pot that Maitimo has chosen earlier. With the handle fastened to one of the many hooks in the frame of this hated, dreadful table that Maitimo has spent most of his last months on, Sauron angles the vessel right above the first of those three funnels that promise another few hours of greater pain than Maitimo has ever known it in his whole life.

“Now be a good little pet and have your dinner. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you for choking on your own tongue again.”

Maitimo does wince and retch when the first taste of filth and salt and ash hits his tongue, because if the smell hadn’t given it away yet, now he knows exactly what this is. He’s been force-fed by one of the cocks violating him frequently too often not to. But this will go down his throat whether he actively helps it or not, so it won’t make a difference. And he’s really not interested in snorting Balrog piss from his nose, so he obeys, because what else is there to do?

An unpleasant but still a lot more bearable warmth than the one before spreads in his stomach, and for a moment he thinks, he can do this, he will be okay.

Then Sauron places the second of the bowls over the funnel hanging over his reddened, swollen hole, and Maitimo’s guts are being set on fire. He’s not exactly sure what it is or how he even still makes it to scream between swallowing the too quickly, relentlessly dripping liquid.

But somehow, some way, he still can take it, he still can stay awake and lucid, and that’s all that counts. Because when he blacks out, Sauron always gets angry enough to make his ordeal even worse, and Maitimo doesn’t think it actually can be right now.

That is before Sauron opens the lid of the last vessel and the smell of vinegar hits Maitimo’s senses.

His eyes go wide enough to almost pop from their sockets. Somehow, without ever wanting it, he croaks out a plea between the metal confinements stretching his jaw painfully open, and then he almost does choke because he forgets to swallow and he can talk no more.

Not that it matters. Sauron doesn’t even comment on his little moment of verbal weakness. With the hand not busy hanging up the third bowl, he’s languidly, almost disinterestedly rubbing his raging erection through the leather fabric of his clothes while he sets the third and last vessel and tips it into position.

A sensation of liquid lava travels through the already too-hot metal in Maitimo’s cock, hitting his insides like that hot-red poker that Sauron raped him once with in the very beginning, when he dared to say no to riding his cock in front of his fellow prisoners. He screams and screams, spluttering snot and bile and piss through mouth and nose, wheezing and coughing between the desperate, unintelligible pleas for mercy from his throat that he knows he will not be granted. Blood is seeping from the wounds of his restraints on his wrists and ankles, his hips and shoulders. He can hear the bones in his neck crack dangerously from his useless strain against the straps on his jaw and forehead tying his head down, and he knows, he won’t be able to turn his head for weeks to come once this is over.

Which it won’t be before he’s ripped open and poisoned from the inside out by body fluids and acid whatever other shit he’s being fed; he doesn’t need to hear Sauron’s next words to know.

Visibly satisfied with his work, Sauron gives him another absent pat on his stomach that is slowly but certainly bulging with too much liquid pouring into him from three sides.

“Much better. Now let’s see how much we can put into you before you start tearing, shall we? It’s really for your own good, pet. We don’t want a mess like last time when you next provide some well-deserved entertainment for our hard-working soldiers. Learn how to be grateful how well I’m looking out for my favorite subjects, and you can make your life in these halls so much easier.”

He bends over Maitimo’s head to press a humiliating kiss to the top of his sweat-drenched head before walking back to his desk to pick up his usual parchment roles for his notes on their little experiment, the half-hard erection between his legs already forgotten. He seldom wastes time fucking Maitimo himself these days. There’s so much more entertaining techniques for him to use on that broken shell of an elf that was once a High King.

Maitimo is left alone hurting, bleeding, desperate and losing another fragment of his soul to ever-lasting hopelessness.

[cityofwexfordsl]

The Fate of Gunne Sitricsson

It was a completely shock to Gunne that he was still alive. Slania Sargenis, in a primal and almost supernatural fury, had managed to overpower him. Yet, she did not kill him, but rather took him in as her prisoner. He was put in chains and was put in the center of their camp at first.  Then, they put him in a semi-burned building which they deemed a suitable ‘prison’ for him. No one spoke to him at first, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He felt humiliated. Not only had Jacob Adair outwitted him, and won against him despite having a smaller army, but he, along with Slania, had bested him. Just as Geir tried to bait Jacob, Jacob and his allies baited him, and unlike Jacob, he fell for it. He spent a long time in that prison of his, wondering if either Geir Lundsson would arrive, or his son Ottir back home in Waterford would go and save him, perhaps at least arrange something with the Adairs and Sargenis.

One night, Gunne had fallen into a slumber and was stirred awake by the sounds of the door opening. Instead of the usual soldier who silently gave him scrap sof food and water every few days, it was Jacob Adair. The door was closed behind him, and he approached, eventually setting down a plate with scraps of meat, and a cup half full of water. Gunne eyed it suspiciously, only to earn a smirk from Jacob.

“If you do not eat or drink on your own, we will have to force feed you. You’ve been told this before, so do not make this harder on us both.” Jacob said as he backed up a few steps, and sat down, his back against the wall by the door.

Gunne silently nodded, and slowly began to eat. The meat was dry, but secretly, he was thankful to eat for the day.

“...Aren’t you planning to kill me? Why have you kept me alive this long?” Gunne asked wearily, looking up at the new Jarl of Wexford.

“I wanted to, but my dearest cousin Slania wanted to prevent another war, so she actually got in contact with your son Ottir and I believe she’s retrieving his response,” Jacob said as he watched Gunne eat, “...Why did you do it?”

Gunne paused and smiled to himself. He finished his meal, and set the plate aside. “The Sargenis are Saxons, people who abhor my people. They did harm to the northerners who were here first, and I’ve seen first hand how they work. Geir wanted your kin out, and I was more than happy to help with that. It was for our survival.”

Jacob crossed his arms and raised a brow, “I was raised with Northerners. Why the fuck would I side with Saxons?”

“You are an ambitious man. I could always see that in you. Ambition makes men dangers,” Gunne replied, “Your cousin who claimed earldom was dangerous. He called upon Saxons, did he not?”

“That cousin is long gone. You should have not mistaken me for him. He made your plight possible. Those of us who remain are not as blinded he was.” Jacob grumbled, looking more irritable.

Gunne smiled bitterly, “You can say that now. But, it happened to even my friend Geir. It’s why he lost this settlement. It will happen to you.”

This prompted a confident grin from Jacob. “I have my wife and my cousin to keep me in check. I’m not worried.”

As if on cue, the door behind Jacob opened and Gunne stared as Slania Sargenis stepped into the room with them. The tall, redheaded woman was just as stunning in plain clothing as she was in armor, but while she looked terrifying on the battlefield, there was a grace to her movements then as she stepped forward and gave Jacob a hug in greeting before handing him a piece of folded parchment. When she turned to him, she nodded.

“Jarl Sitricsson,” Slania greeted him, her calm voice almost soothing to him.

“Uh... hello,” He replied, feeling uncertain, “Did you see my son?”

Slania frowned and Jacob made a face upon reading the paper; a surprised one. 

“You may want to read this yourself,” Jacob told him, handing him the paper, sounding surprised, and also somewhat amused.

Gunne took the letter, to his horror, read Ottir’s response:

Your tactful suggestion surprises me. I appreciate this, but I write to tell you that such negotiation is not possible.

Gunne Sitricsson, the man who calls himself my father, made a decision that has cost Waterford greatly. My warnings and pleas went on deaf ears, and he must pay for the damage he has cost us as well. 

I give you my word not to retaliate upon whatever you decide to do with him. In fact, after you do what you need to do, let us meet formally. I heard you are the right hand of new Jarl of Wexford. Perhaps this is a gift from the gods to allow us to start our relations anew.

Gunne felt a great rage as Jacob reached down and took the paper from him, and Gunne felt his hands go limp as he did, feeling defeated. He looked down, realizing that Ottir truly intended to take the Jarldom from him, and would not go to save him, as a good son should have. There was no sign from Geir or his son. He was there, alone, and at the mercy of his captors.

“What shall we do with our poor prisoner?” Jacob asked Slania, putting an arm around her as she continued to look at Gunne. “He is, after all, your prisoner.”

There was silence in that small room for a while, and finally, Slania declared in placid tone:  “He is to pay for his crimes and bloodshed here in Wexford. I call to sentance him to death.”

Gunne’s eyes widened and as Slania turned to leave, he took a hold of the hems of her tunic, causing her to turn around in startlement. 

“No, please,” Gunne weakly begged, the fear of mortality and death suddenly seizing him, “Lady Slania, please --”

Jacob knelt down and took his hands, forcefully taking them off his cousin’s clothing. “You have no right to fucking touch her, you pathetic piece of shit,” Jacob snarled angrily, “You are to die, Gunne Sitricsson, because this is the fate the gods have written for you. This is your destiny.”

---

Days later, in the middle night, the doors of his prison opened. A large, tattooed man entered with Finnegan Hall, the inn keeper, coming in right behind him. Finnegan unlocked the chains binding his feet to a wall in his prison.

“It’s time, Gunne,” Finnegan told him as the taller man took a hold of his arms roughly, forcing him to stand up. 

“...I can walk.” Gunne mumbled, and he saw Finn nod to his counterpart, causing the man to release him with a shove. Gunne looked over his shoulder to look at the man. He remember seeing the larger man on the battlefield briefly, and there was an odd glint in his eye that made him afraid enough to turn back around. He was led out by Finnegan, followed by the intimidating man.

A crowd of people were outside, waiting for him. Torches were lit, making a path to what seemed to be the middle of the city. Gunne was led down his lit path, with the people of Wexford eying him with disgust, hatred, and fear. The moon was full in the dark sky, and there was a cool breeze that sent a chill down his spine.

As Gunne walked, he could feel his heart beat painfully hard in his chest, and a few times, he felt like fainting, but he was determined to take his sentance like a man worthy of the gods. Eventually they made it to the center of the city, and the torches then formed a circle. At the center was Jacob, with a beautiful dark haired woman holding a baby in one arm, and a young blond boy’s hand with the other. His family, thought Gunne, who to his surprise, had survived Geir’s direct attack.

Standing by the Adairs was Slania Sargenis, and a man who as tall as the giant of a man following him. He had seen him on the battlefield too. Beside the tall man was a very petite woman, who coldly glared at him. He next saw Katy Areli, a woman he once knew when they were much younger, and behind were her parents, and a younger blond man he assumed was her brother. 

They had all come to see him die.

Finnegan led him to a block in the center of the circlr. He and his tattooed companion stepped aside as Jacob walked forward, holding a large sword. He gestured for him to step towards the block, and he did, fighting the urge to vomit as he did. Jacob then motioned for Gunne to kneel by the block, and he did, looking around at the people one last time. He then put his side of his head upon the block. He watched as Jacob’s wife leaned down towards their son, speaking to the boy in his ear. Then, he observed Jacob circle around him, and soon, he heard his footsteps approach him from behind.  He looked towards Slania, who watched intently as she stood directly in front of him alongside Jacob’s family. He then looked towards the roofs of the buildings there, and that’s when he saw it again.

A crow, but it wasn’t the black crow he saw with Jacob a few times before. It was the hooded crow, with grey on its back, and as it perched on a roof directly behind Slania, it stared directly at him. Gunne stared back, and there was a thought that emerged in his head: Our gods are not the only ones here.

Jacob began to speak in a loud, thunderous voice:

“We offer to the gods Jarl Gunne Sitricsson of Waterford. May they find pleasure in our sacrifice.”

Gunne felt the cool sharpness of the edge of the sword Jacob held on his neck. Gunne kept his eyes open, as  he felt the sword’s edge leave his neck. And then there was a swoosh and then ...

He suddenly fell to the ground and felt strange. The world became distant. He heard echoes of cheering as he felt himself be lifted, but he felt so light. He looked to the side slightly and briefly saw the shoulder of the tattooed man who had escorted him before he was raised higher, and higher. He could see Jacob, splattered with blood, smiling up at him.

As echoes became more distant, the world around him became darker. He felt cold, but oddly, the cold didn’t hurt him. It comforted him.

The darkness consumed him, and everything went still.