#guilting me by saying my aunt was crying herself to sleep every night

[firefighter-diazbuckley]

me and my sister spent an hour on the phone ranting and psychoanalysing our absolutely insane dad & his family because they’re the absolute fucking worst and such a unique brand of awful and crazy

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 5

A/N: this went in a completely different direction than the original comic did but I think its better this way. More angstier.

Chapter 4

The glow of blue fire emanates from the Witches’ house. As the three brothers watched, the child tucked safely into Lucifer’s arm, the mood was solemn.

“So, it’s over? What happens now?” Beel asked.

“We go home,” The Avatar of Pride replies, “And we help Mammon do his best to move past this...” He turns to look at his brothers, the glow from the fire casting a dark shadow over his face. “We’re finished here. Let’s go.”

A portal was opened as the eldest walked through followed by the others. On the other side, he found Levi and Belphegor trying to move Satan’s old crib from the attic down to Arella’s old room.

“Come on, Levi, put your back into it!” Belphie said as they moved down the stairs carefully. “I’m practically carrying this thing on my own here.”

“I'm trying! A shut in like me isn’t meant to be moving something so heavy.” Levi groaned as he hefted the crib up further.

Lucifer only cleared his throat as the seventh and third-born brothers looked his way. “Where’s Mammon?”

“I used my powers to put him back to sleep so he could rest up before the kid got here.” The Avatar of Sloth replied. “He doesn’t need to be over-tired and dealing with an infant at the same time. It’s a recipe for disaster, if you ask me. ”

At the commotion, Arella came out of the kitchen where she was washing out all of the old baby bottles they would need. “Oh, you’re back. I can take him now. Beel, would you help them with the crib please? It’ll be going in my old room for the time being, and Satan, would you finish drying the bottles for me, please?”

Both brothers nodded with Beel stepping forth to take the crib from his brothers and Satan headed to the kitchen. Levi and Belphie let out exhausted sighs as they headed off to their rooms and the only two left now in the entrance hall were Lucifer and Arella. She held her arms out for the little one and Lucifer was all too happy to oblige her.

With a small cry of discontentment, the baby settled into her arms quickly as she shushed him. She rocked him gently until he was back to sleep. Seeing her step so readily into the role of motherhood left the demon impressed.

“He’s already had a diaper change around two hours ago and he ate around an hour ago so he should be fine for a little bit.”

”Alright, he is frightfully thin though which worries me, but he’s in good hands now.”

“Why are you doing this, Arella? You know you don’t have to and yet here you are, embracing a child that’s not even yours.”

“Do I need a reason?” She smiles as she looked up at him. “I don’t think I do. I suppose if I have to have a reason it would be that I just want to help Mammon. He can’t do this alone. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

The Avatar of Pride only nodded. “You humans never cease to amaze me with your generosity. Has he thought of a name yet?”

“He threw a couple names out there but ultimately he couldn’t decide so he asked me to choose the name from the ones he suggested.”

“And?”

“I chose the name Cyrus, from the Latin meaning sun. Right now, it’s a very dark time in our lives, but I hope one day he’ll be bright like a little ray of sunshine.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” The demon hums. “But are you sure you’ll be alright tonight? You’ve been up nearly all night. You have to be exhausted by now.”

“I’ll be alright. This isn’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter. When I graduated from Cambridge a couple years back, I earned myself a degree in biochemical engineering. I can’t tell you the number of sleepless nights I had cramming in last minute reviews. This won’t be anything compared to those. I’m obviously not planning to go to RAD tomorrow, so I can just sleep when Cyrus sleeps.”

“You can take online courses then. We’re going to try to pass him off as your child for that to work you’ll need to be absent from RAD for an extended period of time. If word gets out that my brother was assaulted, the mockery he’ll face will be absolutely ridiculous. It’ll be easy since demons don’t know much about human anatomy. We can always say it was a surprise pregnancy and you never showed.”

Arella only nodded at that. “Thank you,” she turned and headed to her old room for the night to settle the baby.

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

Mammon slept for a full eight hours before waking up with a start. While he felt rested, there was also an odd sense of worry flowing through him. He looked around frantically and then realized what was missing. Arella wasn’t with him. He got out of bed and made his way around the house looking for his mate. She would be in the last place he looked- in her room. He shrunk back at the sight of his child resting against her chest, as a soft purring noise filled the room. The sight reminded him just how much he wanted them to have a child of their own together.

The demon stood there, mesmerized by the sight in front of him until his human noticed him. She motioned for him to join her on the bed, a bright smile enveloped her features as he did just that.

“He’s beautiful, love.” She said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you want to try to hold him?”

He shook his head as he rested his cheek against her. “I don’t know if I can right now...” The Avatar of Greed only frowned. He wanted to hold Cyrus but he still felt like none of this was real. “It feels like a bad dream... Like I’ll wake up any second now.”

“That’s alright. If it helps, you could pretend that he was always our son to begin with. It might help you in the long run.”

“Do ya think... maybe I can trick myself like that?” He reached out and stroked the child’s cheek. “’Rella, I don’t get it... How can somethin’ so beautiful be born from somethin’ so horrible?”

“Sometimes the best things come from tragedy, Love. I’m so proud of you for being strong enough to take him in, do you know that?”

Mammon would only nod in response as a tiny hand came to wrap around his finger. For a moment all the air was stolen out of his chest as he recoiled from the contact slightly. The feeling of a crushing weight on his chest that he had only felt in his worst nightmares had returned. Suddenly, he wondered if he made the right decision as the realization set in that he was a father now. What if he was never able to love his son? What kind of damage would that do to his child? Could he do this?

“Mammon?”

“I-I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he takes a few deep breaths and he’s able to calm himself. “I'll take him now. Hafta get past this at some point. I hafta be the parent he needs.”

“You will be. I have faith in you.” Arella kissed his cheek before carefully transferring Cyrus to his father. “I know you’ll be a fantastic father once you’re able to see him separately from what his mother and aunts did to you.”

He only nodded as Arella cards her fingers through his hair. He thought this would be a monumental challenge at first, and it still was but as long as she was here, he thought maybe things would go smoother.

—————————————————————

The crying was the worst part for Mammon and Cyrus was unfortunately a fussy baby. Over the past few weeks since he’d been brought home, there were multiple times where the white-haired demon had to leave the room whenever his child cried or pass him off to his adoptive mother, feeling too physically sick to listen to or even look at the child.

The end of the spring term was nearly upon them and since exams would be coming up. Mammon took every chance he could to stay late at RAD for some extra studying with Satan and Asmodeus, knowing he had to get his grades back up. But the guilt was eating away at him. Arella was at home all day, typically alone, with his child. Any good father- any good mate- would be rushing home to give his partner a break to take time for herself and Mammon knows this but even when he doesn’t stay late at school he finds himself dragging his feet to get home.

He stared and stared at the work book in front of him. It was curses and hexes, one of his most hated subjects and arguably his worst grade. Eventually, he just shut the work book, taking of his glasses and just rubbing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. This caught the attention of his younger brothers.

”You alright, Mams?” Asmo asked as he set his pen down.

”Am I a bad father?” The white-haired demon countered with his own question.

”No, of course not.” Satan frowned. “Given everything that happened, I’d say you’re doing great.”

”It doesn’t feel like it,” he frowned. “This is my kid and yet it feels like Arella’s doin’ all the work. Takin’ care of him all the time, stayin’ home with him all the time… It should be me doin’ all the work not her! I’m the one who said I’d keep him and yet I can’t bring myself to do anything for him. A-And its not like I don’t know how to take care of a baby. I’ve done it before.”

The Avatar of Greed ran a hand through his hair in frustration before packing up his things.

”Where are you going?” Satan yelled after his brother before being shushed by the librarian.

”Home! To apologize to my mate and force myself to take care of my child.”

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Next

Masterlist 2

[haileyyanneupton]

🎆intertwined🎆

burzek oneshot

warnings: mention of miscarriage 

masterlist | series masterlist 

When the pregnancy test came back with two defined lines staring back at her, Kim had no idea what to do or how to feel. After losing her first pregnancy, the doctors had told her that the likelihood of her being able to conceive again after sustaining such trauma was slim to none. Standing inside of one of the stalls in the district bathrooms wasn't where she had ever imagined having a bombshell like this unleashed upon her, but alas — there she was. The world had stopped to a halt around her; how could this be possible? 

"Hey Burgess! You in here?"

The sound of Hailey's voice snapped the brunette back to reality, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she kept her eyes trained on the plastic object in her hand. Despite being able to hear Hailey's footsteps growing closer, Kim was at a loss for words. It was as if her vocal cords had spontaneously paralysed themselves — no matter how much she wanted to force out the words, she was in too much shock to be able to do some. "Sarge is looking for you upstairs. Something about —" Hailey cut herself off as she pushed open the unlocked door to the stall Kim was in without warning. The panel hit her arm — hard — but Kim was too numb to feel it. That's gonna bruise, she thought.   "Shit, sorry!" Hailey's face contorted into one of guilt as she raised a hand to her mouth, but the guilt was quickly replaced with concern as she caught a glimpse of her friend's expression. "Kim? What's wrong?"

There was a piercing silence for a few moments before Kim finally raised her head to look away from the object in hand and instead at Hailey. Her eyes locked with the blue eyed girl and in the same second, the words spilled out of her lips without any warning. "I'm pregnant." Hailey's eyes widened. "You — You're — What?" "I'm pregnant, Hailey. I'm. . . I'm pregnant." Hailey wasted no time in pushing her way into the stall, standing beside Kim as she craned her neck over to see the test. As soon as she too saw the two lines, no matter how faint they may have been, a grin burst out onto her lips as she grabbed her friend's arm excitedly. "Kim! You're pregnant!" Hailey exclaimed in a hushed tone. "This is good, right?!" Kim stared numbly. "I — I don't know. This wasn't meant to be able to happen. It wasn't — I don't . . ." Despite it coming as a shock, both Adam and Kim were overjoyed at the news once it finally hit each of them. Kim was quick to go on leave; she didn't want to get herself in the same situation she had gotten herself into last time. Adam wasn't opposed either, especially with her pregnancy being marked as high risk from the moment the test came up positive. She was bored and miserable the whole time, but that all went away the very second that her baby girl was placed into her arms, wrapped in a pastel purple blanket and looking more beautiful than either of her parents could have ever imagined. Born at 4:17am on the 22nd of April, Baby Grace Nicole Burgess-Ruzek was Kim and Adam's new pride and joy. The first few days (and nights) were rough. After being discharged from the hospital, acclimating themselves to what living with a newborn was like. Sleep was quickly slipping away from them, and despite the fact that they could stare at their child for hours and hours on end — Grace was a particularly colicky baby even at just a few days old. Kim was tired, sore and frustrated. Rocking Grace in her arms, the crying baby only ten days old, her eyes were barely staying open. "Kim." Adam entered the room yawning. "Give her to me so you can get some sleep — God knows you need it." Kim shook her head stubbornly, still rocking side to side with the newborn. "I'm okay. I just can't get her to stop crying." "You just gave birth and you've barely slept for the last week. You can go rest, babe — I've got her." Adam came up behind the woman and their new daughter, wrapping his arms around them from behind as he kissed Kim's neck affectionately. His touch was warm and more than welcome to the woman whose mind and body had been to hell and back to say the least. "I don't wanna leave her," Kim mumbled into Adam's arm, her head resting against him as she let her eyes flutter shut. "She's crying." "She's not upset, babe. Remember? The doctor said some babies just cry a lot." "Adam, I'm biologically inclined to feel the need to respond and help the baby — I can't ignore it. You and your man brain can just tune it out." "My man brain?" "Yes. Your stupid man brain." "I think that might be the sleep deprivation talking," Adam laughed as he planted a kiss on his fiancée's neck, rocking the three of them back and forth comfortingly until they all could get even just a little bit more sleep. 🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆 Kim and Adam got married just after Grace's second birthday. Little Grace was the flower girl and practically stole the show away from the couple, winning over everybody's hearts when she stole the microphone from Hailey at the ceremony to sing about Minnie Mouse. "Hey, little miss! Give your Aunty Hailey back the microphone! She was actually saying something nice about me for once!" "Uh uh!" Grace cackled loudly, a grin on her face as she held the microphone close to her chest. "My turn!" Anybody in that room could see the love that Adam possessed for his little girl as he scooped her up into his arms, his face lighting up at the sound of her infectious laughter. Everything that man did was for Grace and for Kim — he loved them more than anything in the world. By the time Grace was four, Kim was the one to take her to her first day of preschool. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit emotional at seeing her only child off, but she kept a brave face as she knelt down in front of her and held Grace's tiny hands in her own. "You feeling good about today, Gracie?" Kim asked, a small smile on her face. "Duh! I'm gonna make so many new friends, Mommy!"  Grace rocked back on her heels with a grin. "I just wish Daddy could'a come with us." "Surprise!" Both Kim and Grace looked up to see Adam standing behind them with a lopsided smile. He was still in his uniform after working a patrol shift, both girl's faces lighting up with joy. "Daddy!" Grace ran up to her father and hugged his leg, giggling happily to herself.  Kim was relieved to have her husband there with her as she too gave him a quick peck on the lips, looping one arm in with Adam's while the other hand rested on her daughter's shoulder. "What are you doing here, Daddy?" Adam glanced over at Kim with a chuckle. "I figured your mom might need some emotional support. . . and I couldn't not come for your first day of school, kiddo!" "It's gonna be so great. I'm gonna play with so many toys and I'm gonna paint and play in the sand and swing on the swing and use the building blocks and —" "Okay, Grace," Adam let out a hearty laugh at the four year old's enthusiasm. "Take a breath. You don't want to lose your voice before you even go in there." As their daughter bounced up and down on the spot while waiting for the doors to her classroom to open, Kim couldn't help but find it difficult to stop herself from choking up slightly, her hand finding Adam's for comfort as he gave it a light squeeze, knowing how she was feeling all too well. She wouldn't ever admit it, but Kim had definitely taken her time in getting Grace ready that morning, slowly doing her hair and taking in every second so that it wouldn't feel like her baby was growing up as fast as she was.  It seemed like just a few months ago she was holding a little infant in her arms —now, she had an independent, headstrong and ever-so-stubborn four year old with dark brown hair and eyes that resembled honey. She was a perfect mixture of both of her parents, both in looks and personality, leaving those who met her in a spin to say the least. It took all of Adam to let go of Grace's hand that morning, and even more of Kim to stop herself from weeping as she peppered her daughter's face with kisses to hide her bittersweet sadness. "You make sure you be nice to the other kids, okay?" Kim told her daughter sternly between kisses. "And if you need anything, Mommy took the day off of work today so you can call me and I'll answer, okay? And make sure you eat all of your lunch! Oh, and for the love of God — don't take your shoes off and lose one again, baby — just don't take them off at all. And if anybody is mean to you or —" "Mommy." "Yeah, Gracie?" "Stop talking now. My class is goin' in." Kim let out a strained chuckle as she nodded lightly, giving Grace's arms one last rub as she stood back up. "Mommy and Daddy love you very much, okay?” Adam grinned from beside his wife. "And we hope your first day of big school is a good day." As her teacher made the last call for students and both Adam and Kim watched their daughter walk inside of the classroom, time sped up even more than they ever could have though from that moment on. Next thing they knew, Grace was turning eleven and about to start middle school. She spent most days after school helping out Trudy at the front desk for some pocket money, and although at first her parents had been opposed to it, it became apparent very quickly that Grace and her Aunt Trudy got along like a house on fire. Grace was a hard worker — Trudy liked that about her — and after the eleven year old had gotten a hold of the ropes, she wasted no time in putting her to work. Grace loved it too — there was something about the chaos that comforted her (just another way that she was like Kim and Adam). The twenty-first district was practically Grace's second home, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. "Whatcha doin, Grace?" Adam had asked as he came downstairs to check on his daughter midway into his shift. "Having fun?" "Oh, tons of fun! I'm sorting out these papers and answering the phones. See? These ones with the red dots in the corners go into the 'important' pile, these ones with the purple dots go into the 'tomorrow' pile and the ones with the blue dots go into the 'not worth anybody's time' pile!" "I bet your Aunt Trudy taught you that last one, huh?" A face-eating grin exploded onto Grace's lips. "Duh." "Alrighty," Adam gave a small chuckle at his daughter's endless enthusiasm for the tasks that he would rather smash his head into the wall than do. "Your mom and I will be finished around eight, and then we'll head home, alright? You can order yourself food if you want, otherwise we'll pick something up on the way home and have a late dinner." "Kay. I love you." "I love you more, kiddo." Her father gave a quick ruffle of the hair before jogging back up the stairs to Intelligence, causing her to make a face as she smoothed it back down before getting to work once more, ever determined to make everybody proud. 🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆 It was nearing on one in the morning, and after working on a particularly difficult case, Kim had come home to Adam and her daughter who was sleeping soundly in her bed. Kim would be lying if she said that the kidnapping case they had just closed hadn't shaken her to her core — two kids, one of them Grace's age; it was a lot for her to handle. Walking towards her daughter's bedroom, Kim stood in the doorway as the ground gave a subtle creek beneath her weight, the woman staring and watching Grace just to calm herself down. "You okay?" The sound of Adam's voice had come as a shock to Kim, who quickly swung around in surprise before relaxing as she realised who had crept up behind her. His hair was stuck up and across his face in every direction by the hands of what looked to Kim like sweat; the hot Chicago summer had done a good job at keeping the house at an uncomfortably warm temperature all day and all night. "Did I wake you?" Kim whispered back to Adam, her hand finding his which had perched itself up onto her shoulder softly. She had purposely dodged his question, in fear that she wouldn't have an answer to provide him with.   "No, you're fine," he shook his head in response. "I was still up. You know I can't sleep when you're not home." Kim gave a small, partially forced smile. "I know." There was silence for a few more seconds as both Kim and Adam listened to their daughter's light snores, the sight of her brown hair strewn across the pillow while holding a purple toy in her hands somewhat consoling for the two of them before Kim finally spoke up. "I just . . . I had to see her. Hear her. Today was so — it was. . . " "I know." Adam wrapped his arms around Kim, pulling her closer into him as her head found its regular place on his chest. "They were the same age as her, you know? It's just . . . It's so scary to think that — that . . . " Kim's voice had trailed off, but nothing more needed to be said. The unspoken words were enough, and standing there all together provided each of them with enough comfort to ease their aching hearts, even if they didn't know it. Adam's hand had found Kim's at some point, their fingers intertwined perfectly in with one another as if each crack and crevice had been purposefully placed so that the other hand would simply snap into position. Their little family wasn't much — but it was theirs. Beautifully and indescribably so. 

a/n: honestly the thing i’m looking forward to most right now is annie’s reaction to this lmao girl’s gonna lose her shit

tagging: @detective-buttercup @ruzek-halstead @lissethsrojas 

[aprilsrant]

Be brave, little wizard.

PAIRING: Neville Longbottom x Aunt!Reader (platonic, of course) | Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N) and Alice have been best friends since they were kids, way before Hogwarts. After everythin that happened to her and Frank, (Y/N) is the one that takes care of Neville.

WORD COUNT: 2,9k

WARNINGS: pretty sad, angst, character death, change of canon (big detail but i think it was necessary), mentions of Neville’s parents being tortured, reader kills someone, ups. If there are more and there aren’t here, please tell me.

A/N: This took me ages to even start and I’m really sorry, but now that’s here I feel so proud of it. This has to be the fic of my own that I love the most even if I broke my own heart while writing it. The end is kind of rush because it was almost 3am, sorry.

English is not my first language.

MASTERLIST | WORK IN PROGRESS.

Gif below is not mine.

One could never find Alice Fortescue and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) far away from one another, one of them would always follow the other. Both girls became joined by the hip after a particularly hot day in July when (Y/N) and her family visited the Ice Cream Parlour on Diagon Alley, owned by Alice’s uncle, Florean. 

After that, Alice and (Y/N) did everything together meaning it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that their friendship only grew stronger on their days at Hogwarts. They had their fair share of fights of course, people always do, whether the matter is relevant or silly, but they knew better: arguments happen and proving your point might be important, but friendships hold more value than being right. 

Although the Wizarding World was turning more dark and dangerous with every passing second because of Voldemort’s hunger for power and his ruthless Death Eaters hunting down muggleborns and what they liked to call blood traitors, Alice and (Y/N) still tried to find joy and happiness in the littlest of things, exciting over Alice and Frank’s wedding, daydreaming about the day they could get a proper and big ceremony, instead of a small gathering with the closest of friends and family members. 

On July, 30th of 1980, (Y/N) understood what Alice was to her. The girl with the plump, always happy looking face was, not only her closest confidant, but her sister as well. They may not have been related by blood, yet they loved each other like family. Thick as thieves, as the muggles would say.

(Y/N) had barely sat in the brown, ugly chair beside her best friend’s hospital bed, with her newborn boy asleep and unaware of the silent tears running through both of the girl’s cheeks, when Alice confided. 

“We want you to be Neville’s Godmother.”

Her eyes stopped looking at the baby boy tucked in her arms to glance towards Alice’s direction, who was now being hugged from behind by Frank, both of them with large grins on their faces and reassuring expressions.

“M-Me?”

“Well, of course you, (Y/N)!,” exclaimed Frank before letting go of Alice for a second and getting shushed by both of them to keep him from disturbing Neville, “you are practically Alice’s sister after so many years of friendship,” he continued, now in a more quiet voice.

“He’s right, you are my sister and I can’t think of anyone else being better than you as his godmother.”

Several hours later, Harry Potter, son of Lily Evans and James Potter, was born. (Y/N) had gone to their room a day after to deliver her congratulations along with the ones from Alice and Frank, encountering Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew hunched down over the crib in which Harry was sleeping peacefully, staring at his small frame and his tiny chest barely rising with every breath. 

None of them imagined how fast things could change for the worse. 

(Y/N) knew Alice’s choice of career was dangerous, being an Auror was never an easy task but with Death Eaters and Voldemort bringing chaos and destruction to their world, the job was even harder. Still, she never thought she would be escorted to St. Mungo’s after receiving the news that her best friend, her sister, and her husband had been tortured by a group of blood supremacists seeking for their Master, not after also learning about the Potter’s deaths and how they’d been betrayed.  

A healer explained to her what had happened to them, but she didn’t care, she didn’t want to listen; she didn’t have the strength for it. She could only sit beside Alice and grab her hand, and cry and beg someone, anyone, to bring her back. 

“Alice, please, I need you, please,” (Y/N) repeated between sobs, almost like a mantra, ”Neville needs you, he is your son and- and he needs his mother, please, Alice. You can’t leave us.”

During her fourth day in the hospital, which she would only leave to eat and shower because of Augusta Longbottom’s insistence, a diveleshed Remus Lupin walked through the doors of the Janus Thickey Ward. He sat down beside (Y/N) and neither of them talked for a long time, until Remus decided he needed to say something.

“I don’t have much to say, (Y/N), but I know how close you were and I’m so sorry,” the boy whispered while reaching to grab her hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“I’m sorry too, Remus,” she whispered back, biting her lip and trying to not cry again,” neither of them deserved this.”

Neither did us, the pair thought.

“Where is Harry?,” (Y/N) asked him, suddenly remembering that the Potters had left a child too, “is he staying with you?”

“N-No, no. He is with Lily’s sister,” Remus answered after swallowing harshly, “what about Neville?”

“Augusta, Frank’s mum, will take care of him.” (Y/N) glanced over the old woman sitting beside her son while her grandchild rested on his crib. “I’ve been thinking about asking her if I can move in with them, I- I don’t feel like being alone right now.”

“You are always welcomed to visit me,” he assured in a low voice, as if he wasn’t sure of how she would react, “I know we weren’t the closest of friends back in Hogwarts, but- but you can count with me, we can count with each other.”

The sixteen year old (Y/N) would have been a stuttering mess if Remus Lupin had said that to her back in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Alice would have laughed at her embarrassed expression, joked about her sweaty hands and insisted that the Gryffindor returned her feelings, to which she would refuse to accept.

Now her best friend was in the hospital, a place she could never leave, her husband in the same condition and their son would have to grow up without his parents. She would have the chance to watch Neville first steps, to hear his first words, to celebrate the arrival of his Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven, to compliment his achievements, to just be there for him every time he’ll need it. It wasn’t fair and she would give her soul in an instant to anyone that claimed they could bring Alice and Frank back, even if it meant not seeing them again.

Taking care of Neville was easier than (Y/N) had expected. He’d only cry if he was hungry or if his diapers needed change, and for moments the woman wished for him to be more like the kind of babies who won’t let you sit down and relax, so then she wouldn’t have to force herself to block the blinding rage, the never ending desire for vengeance and, the worst of all, the guilt sinking down in her stomach and numbing her mind every single time Neville would look at her and smile, or whenever a giggle would escape his mouth after watching (Y/N) conjure tiny, golden lights with her wand. 

The first time Neville properly talked, which meant he didn’t just babble like he usually did, (Y/N) swallowed all of her tears in front of Augusta and only let them out behind her room’s closed door after dinner. That same night, she sent a message through her Patronus to Remus, asking if she could Apparate in his flat right away. When she received an affirmative answer, she didn’t waste any time, quickly informing Augusta where she was going in case of an emergency.

The minute she was in front of his door, she’d started to regret her decision. What was she thinking? They weren’t particularly close, they would see each other from time to time since he would visit Neville once or twice every two weeks and he would go with her to see Alice and Frank, but never really talked about the important things, just making light conversation and asking each other how they were doing, both of them knowing that neither would answer the question truthfully.

After coming to the conclusion that she needed to do this, needed someone to confide in, (Y/N) raised her fist and knocked on the door two times, waited, and knocked again —his idea so they could know it was the other behind the door—. 

On the other side of the threshold was Remus Lupin with his wand pointed towards her.

“Bowtruckle,” she said confidently, although her hand was clutching tightly around her wand.

“Thunderbird.”

She loathed the idea of having safe words, but he had insisted on it because of the few Death Eaters still on the run and causing havoc. Even if she’ll never mention it to him, the second the word she had picked up for him to say left his mouth, tranquility invaded her system, calming down most of her fears. 

“We could have chosen better words,” (Y/N) commented while she entered his apartment, which looked like he had tried to tidy everything up before her arrival but had failed miserably. The space was small, not a problem since he lived alone, but that meant you could see all of the rooms. There were mugs on every surface, clothes thrown over the sofa and a bin filled to the top with chocolate wrappers. 

“The whole place is a mess, I’m sorry,” he rushed to say while flicking his wand and enchanted the cups to clean themselves, different items of clothes, mostly sweaters, flew across the flat and ended up in the laundry basket, “I-I wasn’t expecting you to come today.”

“It’s good, Remus, I don’t mind,” (Y/N) assured, following him and sitting down on the maroon sofa that occupied pretty much all of the living room, “I should be the one apologising for showing up with such short notice and at this hour, but I… I guess I needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh, okay. Did something happen? Is Neville alright?”

“Yes, yes, he’s fine, brilliant actually,” she answered quickly to not worry him,” the thing is, he said his first word today and, and, well, he called me mum.”

“And now you feel guilty,” Remus assumed. (Y/N) had filled with tears once more, blurring her sight and dripping down her cheeks. When she started to sob, shaking her shoulders while her hands tried to muffle the sounds, Remus understood it wasn’t just guilt, but the grief she hadn’t let herself experience. Pulling her closer to him, Remus rested his chin on top of her head while his arms embraced her figure.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Remus,” she whimpered, “I’m not, I’m not trying to replace her, I swear.” Her hands found his old, forest green sweater, fingers clutching desperately to the fabric while her cries increased. “I could never replace her.”

“You are not replacing Alice, (Y/N),” he denied. His fingertips rubbing her arm tenderly, knowing nothing would be enough to comfort but still trying, just for her to know he was there. “You’re doing your best and there’s nothing wrong with Neville seeing you as a mother figure.”

“I don’t want him to,” the words left her mouth in a whisper, as if she was scared of what Remus would think of her for saying them out loud, for crossing her mind, “I shouldn’t be his mother figure because she should be here. She should be the one to feed him, to play with him, to get to know him and- and she is not, she is not here, Remus.”

Neville is four years old when he asks his Auntie (Y/N), because yes, he understands that she is not her mother, about the middle size portrait hung in the living room. The little boy doesn’t recognise the man nor the woman carrying a baby painted in it, for they don’t like his aunt, or granny or Remus, (Y/N)’s friend who always gives him chocolate when Augusta is not in the room.

(Y/N)’s heart beats loudly after hearing her godson’s question, the tightness in her chest making her feel trapped. Sitting down Neville beside her on the sofa, she glanced down to the boy, who was the spitting image of Alice.

“The people in the picture are your parents, Nev,” (Y/N) began in a soft tone, her fingers playing tenderly with the curls of his brown hair, “and the baby the woman, your mother, is carrying is you of course.”

“Why aren’t they here?,” he asked after climbing and settling on her lap, his head raised to look at his aunt.

“Because they- they need to be in another place.”

“Will they- will they come back, auntie?”

“I don’t know, Nev,” she lied while hugging him and planting a delicate kiss on one of his round cheeks, the lump on her throat growing. 

She’d hoped he didn’t ask more questions or else she’ll have to explain the tears. He didn’t.

(Y/N) wouldn’t dare to say that the pain and the guilt abandoned her completely, but with each passing year things got just a little bit easier and her heart less heavy. 

The first time Neville visited his parents wasn’t so terrible as she had imagined. (Y/N) had put him aside before entering the doors leading to the Janus Thickey Ward and explained, one more time, the situation to him, making sure he was ready.

“You need to be brave, little wizard. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Neville was nine years old when Alice gave him a gum wrapper, something that quickly became a “tradition” between the two of them, mother and son. She would never recover and she would never watch Neville grow up and become a man, but such simple gesture showed him consistency and, most importantly, that Alice’s love for him could never be taken away from her. 

People would pity the death most of the time, (Y/N) had been guilty of it, but after everything that had happened she realized it was so much worse for those left behind. You are expected to overcome your grief and move on with your life, but the void and the mark someone is capable of leaving in you never goes away and it’s the reason why it hurts so much to lose them.

Although (Y/N) hadn’t been alone, Augusta and Neville would never understand her pain and she’d never understand theirs for they were very different. Therefore, Remus Lupin became her rock in the darkest times and she became his, confiding in each other during their most vulnerable moments. 

They would spend entire days together, playing with Neville and telling him stories of their years at Hogwarts; drinking tea near the fireplace during winter while discussing books, politics, muggle movies or whatever topic they could think of; celebrating birthdays just for the sake of Neville, who loved the cake and giving presents. It was clear that falling in love with Remus hadn’t been much difficult for her, it was, instead, getting him to open up and let her in his life in a whole new way. 

(Y/N) respected his decision, it was better to have Remus as a close friend and companion than not have him at all. She would stay with him on the days near the full moon —he told her after quite a few shots of Firewhisky and she admitted she’d been suspecting for a long time now—, look after his wounds and sleep on his sofa, because she could never take his bed in those nights (especially the rough ones). 

On May 2nd, he left her behind.

However, she had barely escaped the claws of death, her only thought being Neville and how she needed to stay alive for him. 

Bellatrix Lestrange was the last Death Eater standing, the mad woman fighting Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger in the middle of the Great Hall, while Harry Potter faced Voldemort all by himself.

(Y/N) didn’t know how or from where she had gathered the strength to send all of the three girls behind her with a swift motion of her wand, but seeing Lestrange, one of the Death Eaters responsible for her best friend’s fate, shouting the Killing Curse to the Weasley girl had ignited the fire she’d tried so long to extinguish. Perhaps because Ginny reminded her of Lily for a second, or because she was tired of watching innocent people die around her.

She was now standing a couple of metres away from Bellatrix, the one that’d tortured her sister into insanity, taking away all of her life. But (Y/N) wouldn’t become one of her victims, she wouldn’t be a name on a list and she wouldn’t let Bellatrix take another person from Neville’s life.

It hadn’t been easy and she should have felt sick of it, but the lifeless body of Bellatrix Lestrange and the roars of people all over the place, brought her a bittersweet feeling of satisfaction. 

Sitting down beside Neville after the final battle finished, she threw one of her arms around his shoulders and kissed his forehead, silently thanking whoever had watched over him. 

“Earlier, I saw you on the Courtyard defending a group of students from the Dementors,” he began, “and your Patronus was so, so extraordinary. What did you think of, aunt?”

(Y/N) allowed herself to smile softly.

“I thought of the day you were born, of course.”

TAGLIST: @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @gcdric @shadowsinger11 @thisismynerdyself @cappsikle @idont-knowrn @theweasleysredhair @aesthetically-hailey @slytherinsunrise @bannerbubble @lilac-wrists @storyisnotover​ @minty-malfoy​

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[ghostdrew22]

Bloodlines || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: alcohol and some angst

WORDS : 1767

~~~

Song - Bloodlines by Sleeping With Sirens

"Try not to be like mom and dad, realize you're just fucked like them."

"Are we bound to lose? Maybe we just don't get to choose."

"Is it in our DNA? Was I just born this way?"

~~~

"Another one." Draco Malfoy declares to the bartender as he slams his empty brandy glass back onto the bar. He's always loved muggle bars- the awkward stench of desperation and misery wafting through the air, and the weird music they play to keep themselves busy- absolute chaotic perfection.

Not that wizard bars are much of an option for him- after the war ended six months ago, most wizards cut ties with the Malfoys and made a public show of shunning them. In wizard bars he's usually followed by cold stares and hushed whispers- about his parents and their sentence Azkaban- which makes it particularly difficult for him to drink away his sorrows in peace.

So this is now how most of his nights are spent- hopping from bar to bar and getting blackout drunk in an effort to erase the itch of memories from the war. The silence of the night is too heavy in the Malfoy Manor- all it does is remind him of the muffled screams and pleas of people that had been trapped in his house only months before- and he can't sleep there at night.

Sometimes the moonlight creates dancing shadows across the hallways- shadows that so starkly resemble death eaters floating through his house- and it takes everything in him to not set the entire house on fire. Every time he pulls out his wand he remembers the way his aunt had tortured Hermione Granger in their foyer, and he wishes that he could just snap it in half. Every time he thinks that he can move on and escape the past, it just finds another way to follow him.

He takes his refill and starts sipping it- hoping that peace will find him before the bottom of the glass does.

~~~

Across the bar- drowning her sorrows in a bottle of gin- is Zara Jameson. Her and the blonde had known, and hated, each other throughout their Hogwarts careers- constantly bickering and arguing with every opportunity that had presented itself. She'd hated him and everything he stood for- the spoiled, pretentious Slytherin prince- and her hate had only grown when the Dark War had fallen upon them and he'd found himself on the wrong side.

But that last night- when Voldemort had finally been defeated- she'd seen a shadow of the boy she'd always known as he walked to his parents, and all the hate had completely dissipated. She'd spent years despising him and yet in their final moments together she could only muster up pity for the blonde- realising that he'd only been a product of his parents love, or lack thereof.

She takes a sip of her gin and takes a look around the room- trying to find someone that she can use as a distraction for the night. Her eyes spot that familiar tint of blonde and she almost falls over- reality hitting her like a freight train. While he's being haunted by the memories of the war- thinking about them with every waking moment he has- she's been doing the opposite and pretending that it had never happened.

Even though the pain of losing her parents and friends has never left, she's managed to shove it down so far that it's merely a dull ache of a memory now. But seeing him sends all those memories flooding through her mind again, at full force- the sound of screams filling her ears and drowning out the music that's blaring through the room. She takes a deep breath and runs her hands down her face- trying desperately to collect herself- before doing something that she never thought she'd do.

She gets up and walks toward the blonde for a chat.

~~~

"I'll have some of what he's having." Zara tells the bartender as she sits herself beside Draco- who hasn't yet turned to look at her.

He groans, "Look, I'm not particularly interested in-" The words fall out of his mouth once he turns to find that the girl sitting next to him is Zara. He looks back it his glass quietly and gulps- remembering the way she'd looked terrified the last time he'd seen her.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy." She rolls her eyes- picking up the glass of brandy that's been dropped in front of her and taking a swig of the foul drink.

"You'd actually be surprised how many times I've had to decline women's advances." He sighs and takes a sip of his drink- still refusing to look at her. "Even when I look like this." He gestures to his appearance.

Zara takes him in- noticing the way his hair has grown longer and now falls in his face slightly, and the stubble he has forming by his chin. "You look the way you should after something like that."

"What the fuck do you want?" He turns to her finally and asks- his voice raw like he's been crying for hours. "I hope this isn't some kind of scolding session, because believe me I've had enough of those."

"I'm not here to argue with you Malfoy."

"Are you here to console me? Because my parents are in Azkaban and I'm alone now? Or better yet, mock me for my misfortune?"

"I'm not here for any of that."

"Then what is it? What could the great Zara Jameson possible want with the tainted Draco Malfoy?"

"I just thought maybe you could use some company."

"Not sure it'd look good if you were seen with me. Your parents might disprove." He mumbles- remembering how much her parents had hated his own, not that he blames them.

"My parents are dead, Malfoy. Killed by death eaters- people like your parents." She says coldly as she finishes her drink, "I came here because I thought that maybe if anyone could understand trying to forget that it'd be you, but maybe I was wrong."

Draco feels guilt cage him and grabs her arm to stop her leaving. "I'm sorry, please stay."

"Are you done spitting in my face?" She crosses her arms.

"Yes." She slides back into the seat and gestures for the bartender to bring an entire bottle. "I'm sorry about that- the last six months have been rough."

"Don't I know it."

"Um, I'm sorry, about your parents-"

"No. No apologies." She opens the bottle and pours brandy into her glass before passing the bottle to him. "I've heard so many of those that I think I can probably predict what you'll say next."

He refills his glass and twirls the liquid around nervously. "Have you managed?"

"Managed what?"

"To forget?" He looks at her hopefully.

"No." She takes a deep breath in, "I didn't have the strength to obliviate myself."

"I didn't either." He blinks away the memory of all the dead bodies in his house, "I think I deserve to remember."

"I think we all deserve to remember."

"Why?"

"So we learn our lesson- so we learn to be better."

"What do you possibly have to learn? Your parents weren't death eaters- they weren't murderers."

"That doesn't mean they were good people. They might not have been death eaters but they were horrible people too, Draco."

"You called me Draco." He remarks absent-mindedly.

"I think you deserve to be separated from your family name." She smiles at him softly and he looks at her with a puzzled expression- not understanding where this newfound tolerance of hers has come from. "I want to be separated from my family name."

"Why?"

"There's too much weight in it." She sips her drink. "Everyone wants me to follow in my parents footsteps and take over their dynasty."
 "You don't want to?"

"Not at all."

"Why not?"
 "Why do you keep asking me for explanations?" She laughs and he shrugs with a sheepish smile.

"I'm curious Zara."

"You called me Zara." She smiles at him again and this time he gives a genuine smile back. "I'm worried that following in their footsteps will turn me into them."

"It doesn't have to." He pops some peanuts from the bar into his mouth and continues speaking, "You can change what you were born into."

"Can I really?"

"Yes, Zara."

"I don't know, maybe we just don't get to choose."

"What do you mean?"

"The fight between nature and nurture is non-existent if they're both the same." She sighs and takes some peanuts as well. "Is it in our DNA? Are we bound to lose?"

"You can't let the weight of their failures bury you."

"What am I meant to do?"

"Create your own legacy- change what the Jameson names stands for."

A silence falls between them as she ponders on his words- deciding that there is some merit in them.

"I think the worst part, is that I didn't like them enough to grieve them and it makes me feel guilty." She says after some thinking. She hasn't told anyone this- not after they died and not after she buried them.

"I feel the same way about my aunt. A part of me had even felt relieved and I haven't been able to forgive myself for it."

"Maybe we don't get to forgive ourselves- maybe instead of grief or pain we just get guilt."

"Well if that's the case then I've got guilt to spare." He downs his drink and decides that he's had enough brandy. He calls the bartender over and asks for a bottle of vodka with some cans of red bull- a mixture he'd learned from a muggle he slept with a few weeks back. "You know, I can still hear them."

"Who?"

"Everyone." He shudders, "Everyone that my family ever hurt in our home- I hear their screams every night when I try to fall asleep."

"You're still living in the Manor?" She asks in astonishment- watching him pour a shot of vodka into his glass with half a can of red bull, and doing the same.

"I can't leave."

"Why not?"

"It's a broken home- I keep hoping that I can rebuild it."

"What's it like to be all alone in a broken home?"

"Like living with shadows. I see them everywhere I turn."

"You need to leave."

"I don't deserve to leave- it's fair that they haunt me forever." He smiles sadly, "Someone needs to pay for what my parents did."

"Yes- them, not you." She places a hand on his shoulder. "Their debts aren't yours to pay."

Another silence falls upon them as they stare at each other- the real versions of each other. For the first time Zara can see the real Draco Malfoy that had been hiding underneath his jaded persona- the vulnerable and empathetic boy he'd tried so hard to hide in an effort to gain his parents approval. Draco Malfoy can finally see the Zara Jameson that everyone at Hogwarts had fallen in love with- the strong and intelligent girl that he'd been too blind to see.

"You're not so bad Jameson."

"Likewise Malfoy."

{}

Okay, that's it for my first one!  I wrote it with the name Zara instead of Y/N because I had already envisioned a Zara and by the time I realised that it was just going to be a one-shot, it was too late. The rest will be written with Y/N- unless requested otherwise ofc.

But let me know what you think and please drop in a request for me.

love you all,

jean <3

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Date Night - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Damian Wayne,  Pairing: timkon Summary: It was date night. The first in over a year. At least, it was supposed to be. A/N: For patreon supporter and overall hella person, @mayleebaby28!! Thank you for all your support and kindness over all the years. You’re positively amazing! Happy birthday! Amelia was adopted as a baby, probably through some case they were working. Jon was covering Tim and Conner’s patrols for them. Damian stayed the night, just because, and either slept on the couch or in a guest room. One of them definitely snored, and Damian definitely sent a picture of them passed out in the tent to at least Jon, and probably Dick and Cass too. Amelia was, of course, not sick in the slightest, haha.

~~

Conner whistled while he dried off after his shower. It was nothing fancy – an early dinner, a drive-in movie, and maybe a bar or nightclub for a drink or two afterwards if they were feeling really wild.

But hey, a date was a date, and this was the first one they’d had in over a year.

So to say he was excited was a bit of an understatement. Because when was the last time it was just them? Titans, friends, family – it seemed like they were always surrounded. Always with someone. Never the two of them. Never husband and husband.

Never just Conner and Tim.

Giddiness led his movements as he brushed his teeth and combed through his closet. Tim had reminded him all day that it was casual, that he could wear sweatpants and a hoodie if he really wanted to. But Conner was feeling kind of mischievous, feeling the need to be downright sexy. Conner wanted to see the gleam in Tim’s eye when he was absolutely turned on, when he wanted to do nothing but rip Conner’s clothes off.

So he bypassed the sweatpants, digging for the jeans Tim claimed were his favorite.

He was just pulling a button-up shirt around his shoulders when he heard a whine in another part of the house. The other bedroom, their daughter’s bedroom.

He was already on his way over there when he heard Tim respond to her, murmuring softly. She – Amelia – whined again, adding an extra haughty pout this time too.

Conner smiled.

But when he ducked his head into the room, he felt his smile falter, just a little. Amelia was cocooned in Tim’s arms, leaning her cheek pathetically against his collarbone. Tim was gently rocking her back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

That was the face of a man clearly not thinking about getting ready for a date.

“What’s wrong?” Conner asked anyway, stepping into the room. Amelia glanced up at him and sniffed, lifting her hand to curl her fingers up and down in a wave.

Tim turned towards him a little bit. “She’s warm.”

Conner smirked. “She’s always run warm.” He ran his hand down her hair. “But also, you always run cold, so you kind of think everything is warm.”

“This is different.” Tim countered. “I don’t think she feels good.”

Conner glanced down. “Don’t feel good, princess?”

Amelia pursed her lips. Shook her head. And Conner had to hold in his laugh.

Because Amelia had Tim wrapped around her finger, and even at four years old, she absolutely knew that. She knew she had Conner too, of course, but Tim was absolute putty in her hands, every time.

And the one thing she knew even more surely than that was that she hated – hated – being away from her dads, for even a moment.

“We should stay.” Tim whispered immediately. Amelia squeezed his shirt in her fist.

“I think she’s alright.” Conner pressed the back of his hand to Amelia’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel warm to me.”

She sniffed loudly.

“I don’t know…” Tim sighed, rocking her again.

“Damian’s babysitting tonight, and, as he likes to remind us, he’s practically a doctor himself anyway. So if anything really was wrong, it’d be better she’s under his care anyway, and then we’d just be in the way.” Conner tried. He stroked Amelia’s hair again. “Don’t you want to see Uncle Damian?”

Amelia twisted her lips. As much as she loved her dads, she adored her aunts and uncles even more. Damian especially, because he always brought one of his pets with him.

“If anything, it’s just a little cold.” Conner continued. “What do you always say when you get a cold? You just have to sleep it off.”

Tim scowled. “I think there’s a difference between me and Amelia.”

“I mean, there’s not, healthwise, but thanks for proving my point that you’re a workaholic and purposefully don’t take care of yourself anyway.” He half sang. Tim rolled his eyes as Conner laughed. “…Do you really want to stay?”

Tim sighed, sheepishly shrugged his free shoulder. “I mean…”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door. Conner let out a longsuffering sigh, ruffled Amelia’s hair, and left the room to answer it.

It, of course, was Damian.

“You may have come all this way for nothing.” Conner drawled, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t buttoned his shirt yet. He winced as a silent apology, quickly wrapping the two sides around his chest.

“Oh?” Damian hummed, stepping into the house anyway, good old Titus right behind him. “Is Amelia playing him like a fiddle again?”

“Unfortunately.” Conner nodded. “She’s convincing him she’s sick.”

Damian politely took off his shoes. Titus, less politely, gave a whole body shake. “Is she?”

“Not that I can tell. She doesn’t feel any warmer than normal, and her sniffing I’m pretty sure is from crying.” Conner listed. “Mind taking a look while you’re here anyway?”

Damian nodded and smiled, glancing over as Tim appeared from the hallway.

“Hey.” Tim said, almost shyly. Damian nodded as Titus trotted over, licking at Amelia’s bare toes.

“Hand her over.” Damian ordered, holding his hands out. Amelia, finally, unlatched from Tim’s shirt to reach out herself. Damian cooed as he took her, and he almost instantly disappeared further into the house, Titus happily trotting along with him.

As they heard Damian start speaking, Tim looked back at Conner with an apologetic grimace.

“Do you want to stay?” Conner asked again with a smile. Tim leaned against his chest and sighed.

“Just in case.” Tim admitted. “Just this once.”

Conner laughed, because Tim always said that.

Tim closed his eyes, hid his face against Conner’s chest as he snaked his arms under his unbuttoned shirt. “…She got me again, didn’t she?”

“Maybe.” Conner offered, holding Tim back. “But that just means you love her.”

“It means I spoil her.”

“It means you’re a good dad. A great dad.” He put his finger under Tim’s chin and lifted it. “And that just makes me love you more.”

Tim smiled sadly, tiredly. “I really was looking forward to a night out.”

“I know.” Conner promised.

“You’re wearing my favorite pants and everything.” Tim almost whined.

“I am.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Tim swore. “I promise.”

“You know you don’t have to.” Conner smiled, kissed Tim’s forehead. “Any time I get to spend with you, even with other people, is good enough for me.”

Tim closed his eyes, and leaned deeper into his space. They stood there for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from the other room. Voices, mostly, but then the sound of a few closets being opened, and…moving furniture?

But before they could ask, Amelia reappeared in the mouth of the living room, hand clutched to Titus’s collar.

“Daddies.” She hummed, moving forward. Titus, awkwardly crouching, walked kindly next to her. “I’m sorry I ruined your day.”

She meant date, they knew that, but that didn’t stop them from smiling anyway.

“You didn’t ruin anything, princess, it’s okay.” Conner promised.

“But!” She cried. “Uncle Dami and I made you sumthin.” She spun away, dragging Titus with her. “Come on!”

She ran down the hall, but Conner and Tim both saw her run her snotty nose along her sleeve anyway. They glanced at each other, and did as they were told.

And they were both surprised into silence when they entered the living room. Because suddenly, there was a blanket fort set up in the middle of the floor that had not been there ten minutes ago. Damian was walking around it, gently hanging Christmas lights from the garage along its triangular roof.

“For your day.” Amelia promised. “You guys stay in the tent, and Uncle Dami and I will stay on the couch and not bother you.” She nodded confidently. “It’ll be like we ain’t even here.”

Conner raised an eyebrow, glancing at Damian. “Her idea.” He admitted with a smirk.

“You…okay with that?” Conner asked. “I mean…you don’t have to stay, since we aren’t going out anymore.”

“It’s fine.” Damian waved off. “Though I do ask if you will be doing anything…dirty, to please not do it in the tent, or at least give me enough time to take Amelia and leave the area.”

Both their faces lit up in embarrassment.

“Also, I am not Pennyworth.” Damian reminded. “While I will expertly design and build you a tent in your own home, I am not preparing your food. Get your own.”

Conner laughed, even as he leaned down and picked Amelia up, throwing her gently in the air. “You’re amazing, sweetheart.”

“I won’t bother you.” She said again, bowing her head in guilt. “Even when I want something. I’ll get Uncle Dami to get it.”

“It’s fine. You can bother us.” Tim said. “Thank you for being so thoughtful though.”

She nodded and pointed towards the TV that the tent faced. “I picked out a movie for you.”

“And I left alternate options by the player.” Damian called, implying without saying so that Amelia probably picked one of her own movies, about cartoon pigs or clue-finding dogs.

“Thank you, baby.” Tim kissed her cheek, but frowned a little. He caught Conner’s eye and shrugged. “…I still think she’s warm.”

Conner laughed and rolled his eyes, even as Amelia pointed towards the tent and demanded they go to it.

So they did, and Amelia waited patiently as the two crawled awkwardly in through the opened flap. They both flopped onto the pillows and blankets that had been laid out inside, and stared at each other in the dim glow of the Christmas lights.

“Okay, have fun, Daddies, goodnight!” Amelia screamed, vanishing around the side. There was a second of feet noisily slapping along the floor, then a grunt from Damian as Amelia tackled him onto the couch, and let out a fit of giggles.

Conner and Tim smiled at each other. Tim slowly rolled towards Conner, flopping an arm across his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered. Conner smiled, tucked some loose hairs behind Tim’s ear.

“Love you too.” He promised, leaning down to meet Tim in a kiss. The kiss instantly dissolved into multiple, adoring, but quiet, Damian’s request at the forefront of both their minds.

After a few moments, though, they settled, leaning into each other as they listened to Amelia entertain her uncle. Then, they went through the movie suggestions Damian had left, picked one, and set it up to play.

It was lame, and Damian would tell them that for weeks to come, but they both fell asleep before the movie ended. Before the movie really even got started.

But that was alright. Because they were together. Because, in a way, they still got their date.

Because when they woke up the next morning, they found Titus guarding the front of the tent, and their daughter snuggled between them, fast asleep and holding both of their hands.

Conner smiled as he rolled deeper into the embrace of his family. “You know what?” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss Tim good morning. Tim hummed in response. “I think this is better than any date night could have been.”

Tim yawned a smile, and burrowed himself and his daughter even deeper into the blankets, and his husband’s space.

[terrm9]

CHAPTER 3 - Waiting

Keiki was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed with Sienna, Jackie, Rafael and Elijah surrounding her, waiting for a slightest hint of... something. Rafael couldn't let go of Sienna's hand, not when now, instead of crying, she just kept whispering "it's going to be okay, everything will be just fine, everything must be alright". She was clearly fighting with enormous anxiety and used the positivity so typical for her to deal with the situation. Jackie sat on the chair next to Keiki's head, her head propped on her knees. She was now looking at the ground, finally able to look around the room she was in, but she couldn't bring herself to say a single word. She wanted to badly to snap at Sienna for repeating those stupid words full of hope, she wanted to scream, to make her stop, but she was physically incapable of saying a single 'shut up'. Elijah just stared out of the window, trying to find some sort of distraction on the busy street under the hospital room.

The door suddenly opened and obviously exhausted and uncharacteristically serious Bryce Lahela walked in, the scrubs he was still wearing bringing odd mixture of disinfection and sweat to the room.

"Hey guys. Thanks for staying with Keiki. I met Dr. Mirani on my way here and he said that she suffered from concussion but should be okay within week. I got here as fast as I could."

"How did the surgery go?" Elijah asked nervously.

"Ugh... as well as such surgery can. She is alive."

"What are her chances of actually staying alive?"

It was Jackie, finally able to find her lost voice.

"As for now, I have no idea. Dr. Emery was fantastic, guys you should have seen her, she simply didn't allow Chiara to die on that table. But it was brutal. She has so many injuries, lost such huge amount of blood..."

He trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"It's really bad, isn't it?" Sienna whispered.

"It is really bad, yeah. Dr. Emery told me not to get my hopes up, because the chance of survival or chance of recovery is very low. But she doesn't need to be always right. Very low does not mean none and if there is even glimpse of hope, I simply believe in full recovery. I already got my hopes up, because if someone can get through this, it's Chiara Ray. I mean, she's been through so much shit, in her early life, in her intern year, in her med school and she always, always pulled through and got stronger on the way. She is a fighter and she will fight this. We just have to keep believing in her."

There was a long silence after Bryce's speech, everyone dealing with their emotions on their own. Sienna's cheeks were soaked with silent tears again, Jackie played with hem of her shirt and Elijah just kept staring out on the street.

"I'm gonna get us some hot chocolate," Sienna declared out of nothing

"On the wheelchair?" Rafael raised his eyebrow, looking at her freshly casted leg.

"I need to do something."

"I'm coming with you."

Sienna and Rafael left the room without any other word and Bryce followed her, intending to change into clean set of clothes. Shortly after they left, the door flew open again revealing Aurora furiously walking in.

"What the hell, guys? What happened? I came home after the night shift expecting all of you to be home and the flat was empty! So I tried to reach Chiara, then Sienna, then Jackie and Elijah and none of you responded, so I tought maybe you went to the beach or something. I called my aunt, who is supposed to have three days off and she picks up at last telling me she just got out of the surgery of Dr. Ray? What does this mean? I ran all the way from home."

As Elijah started to fill her in on what happened, Sienna, Rafael and Bryce came back with five cups filled with hot chocolate.

"Ah Aurora, hi! Sorry I didn't know you would come, I'll go for another one," Sienna was about to go get another hot chocolate.

"No need. Just tell me what happened."

Aurora was left speechless when they finished. She grew very fond of Chiara and admired her as a doctor but also as a person. She couldn't imagine her lying on the cold operating table, more dead than alive.

"How about you girls? Sienna, Jackie?"

"We are fine. I have a broken leg, that's all," Sienna answered.

"Oh, I look much worse than I feel. I'll be back to work in a day or two," Jackie said angrily, not wanting to talk about herself at all.

"You think we could go and see her?"

"I don't think they would let us, not now. But when I went to get the chocolate, I talked to Danny and he told me that Dr. Ramsey is staying with her."

They all shared a silent look deciding whether they should talk about Dr. Ramsey or not.

"He really cares about her, right?"

Elijah broken the silence with sincere question.

"Oh he does," Rafael nodded. "I mean, I knew he had a soft spot for her when all it took for her to convince him to play softball was to ask him, but damn this was something different."

"Of course he cares about her. He is her mentor, she is important part of his team. And she saved Dr. Banerji's life."

"I guess he really does respect her for that," Rafael admitted. "But still, this was something else. He was going to lose it in the E.R."

"What happened in the E.R.?"

Aurora and Bryce asked at the same time.

"His whole body was shaking when he heard the news. I didn't know if he was going to punch someone or faint. And when he heard she was in the operating room, he just stormed off."

"She means a lot to many people."

Sienna closed the discussion up with only one sentence and the group remained silent. Every person in the room felt the same heavy feeling on their chest, but somehow sharing their fear has brought some ease into their breathing.

On the other side of the third floor, there was nothing nor someone that could possibly bring ease into Ethan Ramsey's breathing. He was sitting on the wooden chair as close to Chiara as he could get, his hands resting in his lap helplessly, afraid to touch even her finger, scared that he would cause more harm to her. Ethan kept staring at her, failing to swallow the bulge that formed in his throat hours ago. He hated crying. He hated it so much that he learned how not to cry even when needed to. Sitting here next to her, he wished he could just cry. Cry and scream, let some of the emotions out of his system, share them with someone. But the only person he could imagine sharing such grief with was the very same person that made him feel this way in the first place. And so he didn't make a move or a sound, remaining motionless on the chair, his jaw clenched.

 How could I let this happen? If I wasn't such coward, I would start the speech I was preparing myself for and she would never leave the office.

 Damn the speech, I could've just kissed her and she would stay with me.

The thoughts of what if's and what could and should have been were costing him his sanity, but Ethan couldn't just stop thinking. He couldn't forgive himself for losing so much time. For not expressing how he really felt. Oh, he should've done that long time ago, but he was afraid of admitting that he cared for her enough for them to be more than just star crossed lovers. How much he wanted to be with her, to call her his, his Rookie, his Chiara and yet, he couldn't bring himself to talk to her about them, guilt eating him up for being so selfish. He wanted her despite their potential relationship being unprofessional, unethical, so wrong on so many levels. Still, he longed for her.

 She deserves better than me.

He couldn't help but think so, knowing that she expects much more from relationship than he could provide. He could give her his time and attention and physical affection, he would adore her and push her to be the best doctor she could be, but that would never be enough. She needed him to love her the way she loved and he wasn't capable of love. He didn't believe in such thing in the first place. Caring for someone, liking them, wanting to spend their time together, those things made sense to him. But love, love was like hope or faith, there were zero science explanations to back those feelings up. To make them valid. He couldn't tell her he loved her, because he didn't believe in love.

Not like any of that mattered now. He never told her how he felt or how scared he was of ruining her career and her life by wanting to be with her, he never expressed his belief that she should find someone better for herself, someone who would shower her with 'I love you's' every day. He never said a word and now she could die any minute.

Ethan lost track of time or of any outside situation for that matter, therefore Harper's presence in the room took him by surprise.

"Ethan, I need to check in on her, so please leave us. And I think Naveen would like to talk to you before he heads home today."

"What time is it?"

"8 PM."

"Can I come back when you are done with examination?"

He needed Harper to say yes. He couldn't leave her.

"You need to sleep Ethan. What was the last time you slept? Or eaten for that matter?

"I'll sleep when I feel like sleeping. I'm staying with her overnight."

With that he left the room, determined to find Naveen without talking to anybody else.

Dr. Banerji was sitting in his office, waiting for the younger man to come. As the door opened and Ethan entered room, he noticed just how devasted he looked. He hasn't seen him like that ever since his own dying.

"Ethan. Thank you for coming. Can I get you something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. Thanks, anyway. You wanted to see me?"

"I wanted to check on you, dear boy. I see that this situation drained any life from you and I am concerned."

"I'm just scared okay? And hopeless. So fucking hopeless."

Ethan thought he would lose it now. That the tears would finally come. They didn't.

"I know you are worried about Chiara and I know that you would raise the hell if that would help her. But starving yourself or refusing to sleep will only destroy you too."

"Maybe I want to be destroyed."

"Ethan, don't say that."

"I don't know Naveen. I just... the last time I felt like this, it was when I thought you were dying. But at the time at least I could do something. I ran tests and studied not-so-known illnesses and I tried to save you. Now all I do is sitting on the damn chair and wait for her to wake up or die. It's killing me."

Naveen took Ethan's hand into his own and squeezed it with all the emapthy he had, hoping that the brilliant doctor in front of him could feel that he knew. He knew how Ethan felt about Chiara. He knew how much she meant to him and that it was her who saved his own life, after all. Dr. Ray stood by Ethan's side everytime he faced tragedy and when he needed her, she was there. Naveen knew that very well, without ever needing to talk to Ethan about it.

"I called her mother. She said she would catch the first flight in the morning and should be here by the noon."

Naveen broke the silence with the statement.

"You expect me to talk to her."

Ethan didn't ask, he knew it was true.

"I think it should be you. You know Chiara very well and her mother needs to hear the truth from someone who knows her pain."

"And what exactly the truth is?"

"Oh, Ethan..."

"Okay, I'll talk to her mother. I'll be in the I.C.U. with Chiara."

He left, expecting Harper to be done and without stopping anywhere, he found his way back to the I.C.U. room, spending his sleepless night there.

~

"Mrs. Ray, hello."

Ethan shook hand of the woman in front of him, trying not to stare at her hair. Hair with the same colour as Chiara's.

"Dr. Ramsey, it's nice to finally meet you. Chiara talks about you all the time."

She tried to smile and failed miserabely. Her eyes were puffed from crying and she was holding her purse so firmly as if it was her own dear life she was holding onto.

"Oh?"

"All the good stuff of course. Dr. Emery informed me about the surgery. Now you tell me... and I need the truth... will she get through this?"

At this point, she was crying again and Ethan couldn't help but hug her.

"She is a warrior, Mrs. Ray. I know Chiara very well and she fights whatever comes to her life. Nothing is certain, but I believe in her."

Ethan didn't know if he was trying to convince Chiara's mother or himself.

"I can't lose her too, Dr. Ramsey. Dr. Emery told me the driver that caused him was drunk. Is that so?"

"Yes, it's true. He has some broken ribs and waits for his time in jail."

"Is that some kind of curse?"

Ethan motioned for them to sit down before asking: "What do you mean, curse?"

"Oh, I should have guessed Chiara never told you. She doesn't talk about it and she would never bear the idea of you pitying her. But you already do pity her now, so I can as well go on."

Ethan nodded with his eyebrows high, holding hand of the woman who looked like she needed to throw up.

"Chiara is the oldest of my children. She had younger brother and sister, both adoring her. She was always such a good kid, taking care of her siblings, doing her homework, helping other kids at school. She wanted to apply for med school since forever and her father couldn't be prouder. He supported her every step, not to my delight. Chiara is excellent painter, art is huge part of her and as an artist myself, I always hoped for her to follow my steps. I thought being doctor wouldn't make her happy. But she applied for the med school, got in and I realized that the special spark she holds inside of her is only released when she talks about medicine. When she was in her second year, her father and brother died in a car crash. Drunken driver on the truck crossed the crossroad on the red light... they were both dead immediately. She lost her spark then, nothing could bring it back. But she stuck with the medicine because she wanted to make her dad proud. She finished the school and when she was accepted to her programm here in Edenbrook, that's when her spark returned. I remeber her screaming: 'Mom I'll get to work with Ethan Freaking Ramsey!' I hardly understood what that meant, but the expression she held at the moment was enough for one of my many wounds to heal. And now... now I am losing her too."

She was crying again, leaning against Ethan's chest, as he tried to soothe her pain by hugging her tightly. The bulge in his throat got bigger, even though he didn't consider it possible.

"You're not losing her. She never gives up and she won't give up this time either. I'll be here, Mrs. Ray, I'll take care of her and I promise you, Chiara doesn't die, not on my watch. I am Ethan Freakin' Ramsey after all."

He felt his own strenght coming back at his words. He started to see what Naveen and Harper were saying about him needing to eat and sleep. At some point, Chiara might need him and he needs to be ready to save her. Mrs. Ray managed to create a small smile, wiping her eyes.

"Thank you, Dr. Ramsey. I can't stay here, Alicia - Chiara's sister - needs me back to San Francisco. Just... just promise me to take care of her, okay?"

"Of course. Here, this is my number," he handed her a piece of paper with his quickly written number. "Call me anytime. We will inform you about everything. Now, I'll let you see her for a few minutes, if you want."

~

Two weeks have passed and Dr. Emery stood side by side with Dr. Ramsey, consulting results of Chiara's new CT scan.

"Pretty impressing, I must say. The swelling on her brain is retreating and as far as I can see, there's no evidence of irrevisible damage on the brain. Of course we'll know better if she wakes up."

"When she wakes up," Ethan muttered under his breath, not accepting the possibility of her not waking up.

Harper looked at him with raised eyebrows, but never said a word.

"However, we are far from winning this, but so far, Dr. Ray here convinced me that nothing is ever as hopeless as it seems. With her lungs working on their own completely now, I propose transferring her from the I.C.U. to your wing of the hospital, Dr. Ramsey. As a surgeon, my work is done her for now. Her brain needs to start working and that's your field. She's all yours."

Oh how I wish she was all mine, Ethan tought but didn't say a word. He just nodded and left the I.C.U.

One would say that Ethan Ramsey's life was back to normal. He was back to work, giving interns hard time, reading journals, cracking cases, avoiding people. Looking more tired than usually, his hair longer and more messy, his stubble slowly turning into beard, everyone knew that he wasn't completely okay, but how could he be after all? Little did they know that for the past two weeks, Dr. Ramsey only left hospital once. He slept on the couch in his office every night so that he'd be close in case Chiara's state changes. Little did they know that every time he had some spare time, he'd spend it next to Chiara's bed, looking at her. Naveen's heart was breaking for Ethan's pain. He was probably the only one to notice how much weight Ethan lost, eating two raw bars a day at best.

The very same evening Chiara left I.C.U., all of her friends decided to spend evening in at Donahue's again. Sienna spent last fourteen days at home, not being able to work with a broken leg and Jackie with Elijah came straight home after their shifts. But tonight, they let themselves feel certain bliss of normalcy and met at the bar. Aurora was already waiting for them and Danny decided to join them too.

"Shouldn't Bryce already be here?"

"I'm sure he will come any minute now."

They ordered beer for everyone and tried to talk about work, about their patients, about anything but Chiara's still critical condition. Not too long after their order arrived, Bryce walked in and after long time, he looked like himself, smiling brightly while winking at the group of interns.

"Whoa there, scalpel jockey. Enjoying yourself? Did someone make you feel so cheerful?"

Jackie furrowed her brows at him.

"Oh you better believe someone did," he smirked.

"That's why you are late?"

"Exactly. I needed to check one very particular woman's chest, in case you need details."

"Ugh, no thanks, Lahela."

"I waited for Kyra's surgery results," he rolled his eyes. "I wanted to make sure I got it right before spilling the news."

"Are you saying-"

"Yes! The surgery worked! I mean, she's going to be in so much pain for the next few weeks, but the chances of recovery are amazingly high and the cancer is gone."

Sienna started to cry and even Jackie's eyes shimmered with tears.

"Holy crap, so there are still good news available in this world," Elijah sighed and finished his beer. "We are drinking to that. And we should let Rafael know. He might be on the other side of the States, but he still cares, right? Oh I am actually feeling happy right now. Have you talked to her?"

"I haven't. I thought we should all talk to her together tomorrow, since she still doesn't know about Chiara. I know we needed to protect her before the surgery, but she needs to know now. Will you go with me?"

Everyone nodded, except Aurora who sighed: "I don't think Carrick will let me switch shifts. But you guys say hi from me and tell her that I'll come to see her on Saturday."

"Sure thing."

They ordered another round of beer and for the first time in what felt like forever, they didn't feel the heavy stone on their chest. They felt victory.

Later that night, as the young doctors leaving the bar allowed themselves to laugh at some stupid joke Bryce said, Dr. Ramsey laid on the not so comfortable couch, scotch in his hand, looking at the ceiling above him. He missed her. The sound she would make when she cracked some particularly difficult case. The laugh when she teased him. The smile she saved for him and only for him. He missed even her temper that could drive him crazy at the times. Without giving it a second thought, he unlocked his phone and opened the Pictogram app. He needed to see her with her eyes open. He needed to see her full of life. Clicking at her profile transferred him into completely different world, the one where she laughed on the beach, smiled proudly with diploma in her hand, posed for a selfie with her roommates. He scrolled to the end of her feed and starting to observe the photos from the oldest one to the last one she posted. He swallowed hard when he realized that she posted the photo only few hours before the crash, smiling carelessly into the camera with her friends surrounding her. The photo was clearly taken at the concert they attended. She looked so happy, so relaxed, so very much alive. He just kept looking at the photo, memorizing every single detail about her, imagining she was still there, dancing to music and laughing with people she loved. And there it was. After all, Ethan felt a single tear streaming down his cheek.

~

Days passed in some bizarre blur, summer nights turned into ashy evenings of fall, sun gracing city of Boston with its presence only exceptionally. It was exactly one month since the accident and as the end of his shift arrived, Dr. Ramsey found himself sitting next to Chiara's bed again. It became some kind of bittersweet routine for him to come to her room anytime he could and talk to her about work. Chiara was actually doing good, considering everything. Her lungs worked perfectly, her broken spine was slowly but surely healing. Her brain's swelling was gone now, however the brain itself wasn't working the way it should, putting her into state of coma.

"Mrs. Potter is going home tomorrow, the treatment worked exquisitely. I wish you could see the face of her son when we told him she would be okay. I think even Baz had tears in his eyes when the little boy hugged him."

Ethan realized quite well that what he was doing was stupid and he laughed at himself for being this pathetic. But it helped him keep her sanity, so he came everyday and talked to her about every single patient.

"I almost yelled at Hirata today, though. She asked if I was looking for someone else to take your place at the team. I mean, what the fuck is she thinking?"

Repeating the scene with June Hirata in his head made him wrathful all over again.

"She just kept saying that the team needs the fourth member to work. I told her that we were fine, with Naveen helping us when there's too many difficult cases. But she was really determined and I couldn't listen to her, so I snapped at her, I told her to shut the fuck up. It was... intense. Definitely not my proudest moment but what else could I do? How would I even offer the position? 'Hello, we need a new member for our diagnostics team. The only problem is that we have no idea for how long we can provide the spot for you. Maybe for two weeks, maybe for two years, maybe we'll keep you for good. Nobody knows.' Huh? No one would even accept such position. Listen Rookie. I know I've been telling you the other day that you should take your time and heal, but life is pretty hard without you, so could you wake up? Could you do this one last favor for me and just wake up? Please?"

~

Elijah, Sienna and Jackie were standing next to the nurse station, too deep into the debate to notice someone watching them.

"...what are we going to do? I tried to talk to Farley but he said that he couldn't afford to lose those money. It's been five weeks since the accident which makes two checks. And none of us actually has that much spare money."

"We don't have that much even if we put our savings together."

"Should we call her mum?"

Sienna asked nervously, biting her lip.

"Nope, that poor woman is going through hell. We'll find a way, okay? We could ask Aurora."

"Mass Kenmore has cut its budget just like Edenbrook. She basically works for free now."

"We'll figure it out guys, okay? We always figure it out somehow. I gotta go, but I promise to find a solution."

The three of them went their separate ways, Jackie determined to get some coffee from the cafeteria.

"Dr. Varma? Could I talk to you for a second?"

Ramsey's voice snapped her our of not so bright thoughts and she turned on her heel to face him.

"Yeah? Is something wrong with Chiara?"

"No change. It's just... I didn't mean to eavesdrop... well..."

"Get to the point, Dr. Ramsey."

Despite feeling anxious and nervous for the past few days, she found some weird sense of satisfaction on how the tables have turned now. She still remembered clearly how he said those exact words to her in her intern year.

"Right, sorry. Look, I heard you talking about Chiara and some money problems. I understand that it's... rather difficult for you to pay for her checks?"

Jackie raised her eyebrow, surprised, but didn't deny what he said. She nodded and let him continue.

"I don't mean to offend any of you by my offer, but would you let me pay for her checks? I've been second year resident once and I know how much you get paid. And I know that Dr. Ray's mother is going through a lot. Paying for your apartment is, well, no problem for me and I would like to help at least this way."

"Wow, I expected you to talk to me about that woman who can't stop vomiting in the room 232. Look, Dr. Ramsey, what you are offering is really nice and, uhm, surprising, coming from you, but I am not sure it would be appropriate."

"Consider it a loan, then. When Chiara wakes up and gets her life together again, she can pay me back."

"I need to talk to my roommates about that, it's not my decision to make after all. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Okay. I'll be happy to help. Oh and Dr. Varma?"

"Yeah?"

"I am sorry for how I acted the night of the accident. I yelled at you and that was wrong."

"It's okay, Dr. Ramsey. We've all got our ways of dealing with pain."

With that she left, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts. He automatically turned towards Chiara's room and after the door closed after him, he started to talk.

"It's not work today. I just need to let this out. I miss you, Chiara. I really miss you. It's gotten to the point where I just keep staring at your photos and hope that it could wake you up. I never confessed to you about the photo I have of you. After the first night we spent together, day before your ethic trial, you sat on the floor in my apartment, wearing one of my shirts, reading some random history book you found. I was making some coffee for the both of us, watching you from the distance and in that moment I couldn't resist the urge to take photo of you. So I did. And I was too embarassed to admit it to you, that I found you beautiful and wanted to have the moment immortalized. I never found the strenght to delete the photo though. And now that you are here, I find myself looking at the damn photo every day, not believing that I was once lucky enough to have you in my shirt reading my book in my apartment. I really miss you. And I can keep missing you, knowing that it won't last forever, knowing that you'll wake up. I can handle missing you as long as I have hope."

He indeed did sound desperate. He never even believed in hope. But after the long weeks without her, feeling only fear, allowing himself to feel something as pathetic as hope was enahncing.

[glassartpeasants]

Apologies if this is too personal, but where are ur guys' parents? Shouldn't they intervene at one point? It seems like ur the only one aware of what he's doing and worrying 24/7 abt him. I fear that ur brother might one day get into trouble and wont be able to get out of it without getting seriously hurt.

to understand everything on why I don’t snitch on him I’d have to start off at the beginning, a brief summary

My mother and father have never married when I was a child and have only been together for 5-6 years out of my entire life. Me and my brother have been through everything together. We were in foster care after a huge physical fight my mom and dad had. They were both doing drugs at the time which is another reason for us going into foster care.

During foster care, we lived with our super religious aunt and uncle. They treated us differently than they treated their own kids. There kids got to sleep upstairs in the warmth of separate beds while me and my brother had to sleep in a cold unfinished basement with only one bed and one blanket.

Our parents separated after that. My mother had gotten custody of us cause she somehow managed to get cleaner faster than my dad. She picked us up and drove us to her side of the family's grandparents' house who I am still super close.

She fucking leaves us there for about a good solid 4-5 months while she's off with her fiance in Montana getting married. She picked us up afterward and moved us to Montana, away from every family member we’ve ever had. My stepfather had turned abusive and abused my mother.

She left him and then 1-2 years later married another man who turned out to be weird. I don’t really remember him because of how little he was involved in our lives. So yeah he left a little bit before we moved back into my home state where I continue to live now. During our time in Montana, our father had gone to prison and served about 2 years. I wrote to him almost all the time but my mother never sent the letters that I wrote to him back. We were there for about 5 to 6 years total. 

We moved into this little shabby trailer house where my mom turned complete bat shit and just abused me and my brother in general. She had no job which meant we never had any food. She would threaten to kill herself in front of me and my brother which left my brother crying so hard he puked. She never helped me with any of my homework which caused me to fall all my stuff in middle school.

She was doing drugs at that time too. Hard ones I'm pretty sure. She brought random men over all the time and was convinced that our house was haunted. Random people were over almost every single night. Her so-called friends had literal sex on my fucking bed. She never listened to us. me and her would fight constantly cause of how bad she was as a mother. She never paid attention to us, never cooked us supper or anything for that matter.

Once we were finally taken away we were taken back to our aunts and uncles' house who treated us like we were exactly like our mom. Never trusting us with anything and looking at us like we were unworthy of anything. They thought we were stupid. Thankfully we got out of their house in about a month or two. the longest month of my fucking life.

My grandparents on my father's side got custody of us and we lived there for about a year before our father got to take us to our new home. We still live here. OUr father had gotten a job at many different places cause a lot of them were limited-time jobs but he made good money. HE finally got a job at my workplace. HE was the one who got me the job.

He quit though after a while cause my boss refused to pay promotion for him. TO be fair she really is cheap and my dad worked his ass off every day for them but they really didn’t appreciate him. SO he quit and got a new job which is where he works now.

My father's job requires him to work out of town during the week so he leaves me and my brother home alone. 

Ever since we left my mother's house my brother has changed. Its like he doesn’t need me anymore and just won’t listen when I say I care about him.

So a major reason why I don’t snitch on my brother is that we’ve been through everything together. We were always hand and hand and watched out on everything side by side. Snitching on him could break that bond I'm still trying to hold onto. My dad is kinda known for being harsh. And of course, you heard my rants on him. Him telling me that he’s suicidal so he should be able to hang out with his friends in Dad's old car if he wants.

I feel like if I told on him he would never forgive me and or never talk to me again, and I just can't handle the thought of that. I told him that what happens if you get in a car wreck but he only says it's not gonna happen. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried to protect him and everything but he never listens. It’s like he knows how to guilt trip me to get what he wants so that I feel hella guilty whenever I try to put my foot down.

[kittybellestark]

Falling Apart At The Seams

Part 4 of 5

Read Part 3 

Read on AO3

Part 5 will be out a little bit late because I have to drive across the country and back to get my brother, but it is already written so have no fears, you will receive the final part.

TW: conversations about past sexual assault, ptsd, trauma post kidnapping.

-

Tony was used to being kidnapped. 

It was old hat. An easy routine. Get kidnapped, find out who has him, learn the motive, then pull out a bad ass move and break out. 

Simple. 

Coming back and re-adjusting to regular life though? That always hurt. Sometimes it was physical but most of the time it was mental. Finding a new pattern and safe space. Places where Tony used to feel his safest were regularly torn from him, beds, showers, garages. He didn’t find much comfort in the dark, or looking up at the sky at night, pools and baths were a nightmare and these were all things he once loved. Tony just needed to do this again.

It was always a struggle for Tony. His mind was always too fast, it was why he couldn’t sleep as a child or even now. His mind goes too fast and it’s impossible to stop. Tony was never able to describe what it felt like to think to others, but he imagined it as NASCAR on drugs with trains derailing, there was heaviness and music and commercials, impossible to solve problems and lectures from MIT. Where most people would already be moving on from being kidnapped Tony was still living through it, the entire experience on repeat, volume turned all the way up. Re-adjusting was the hardest part.

If he was anyone else, it probably wouldn’t be like this. 

Tony hated the shame he felt being wheeling into the tower. He hated that Peter was in the room, listening to Mary shouting her confessions as she pulled and pushed trying to get out of the grips of Natasha and Clint. Screaming desperately to Peter that she wanted to give him another sibling, how Peter was named after his father. Watching Peter’s face fall, watching him realize who Tony was as he was rolled in behind Mary on a gurney- that was torture. 

And Tony was helpless. Normally Tony would talk, say something to Peter, anything to get that look off his face. The look of betrayal, hurt, denial. But none of this was normal. It’s not normal to find out you’re abandoned child is also the one you invite into your home and watch movies and create things with. 

Tony was still dealing with the effects of the drug as he was wheeled in, which left him incapable of doing anything. Useless, even.

Peter didn’t deserve this.

“... Because it was an Avenger arrest and Mary admitted to what happened in 2000 she’s going to be held in a secure Avengers facility instead. Jimmy said the FBI approved Peter and May staying in New York because of everything.” 

Sure, yeah, an Avenger arrest. It was mostly a Pepper arrest. Pepper was definitely the strongest Avenger. And she wasn’t even an Avenger. Well a case could be made for her being an honourary Avenger. An Avenger by association. 

“Rhodey, I appreciate you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pepper moved across Tony’s Medbay room, staying behind Rhodey, careful to keep her distance. Rhodey frowned, squeezing Tony’s hand. Tony squeezed back, thankful to have a wonderful med-team who reversed the drug’s effects instead of making him wait it out.

“Tony,” Pepper spoke softly, carefully, “Peter is your child, he is upstairs hurt and confused. I know it’s going to take you time to come to terms with everything, no one is expecting any less. But, that child you thought you’d never meet is here and you know how good he is.”

Peter was good. Undoubtedly one of the best kids out there. Kind, caring, doing his absolute best. Peter was a treasure. An anomaly. Spent the first half of his life in an abusive home, put into witness protection, full identity change and still lived a life full of trauma. And yet Peter was full heartedly kind. And he was Tony’s son. His child. The one he sent years running away from. Peter came from bad, lived right through it all still trying to make it to the other side. 

He was a ray of sunshine to Tony and the Avengers. Bright eyed and still so innocent, yet incredibly snarky. But the memories, they’re tainted now. Which of Peter’s mannerisms come from Mary? What parts of Peter come from Tony. Every moment from lab days to movie nights, team dinners all covered with the memories of what Tony did to Peter. And what Mary did to Tony. Tony left him with Mary to grow up, let him be in her presence and learn from her. 

It’s been fifteen years of guilt. Sixteen years of self-hatred. Twenty-four hours a day re-living the feeling of absolute torture. Five years of not being able to wear a watch because it felt too much like he was being chained. Eight years where Tony couldn’t sleep on a bed that touched a wall. Tony has struggled since the moment he woke up on the creaky mattress. He has struggled every time he goes outside to see someone who is pregnant, and whenever he see’s a child.

“I don’t know if I can. I’m not- I can’t- what if I look at him and can’t see anything past her. I can’t be a person he can go to if I see him and only remember where he came from.”

Peter was upstairs. His child, his son, who he abandoned. Tony knew that child Mary was carrying was his, of course he knew. He was forced to watch her as her pregnancy progressed up until the start of the third trimester. Mary ruined Tony’s life in the quest for a child. Tony didn’t want to ruin Peter’s life because he was running from the months of torture and a child he never met.

It isn’t like Peter’s life hasn’t already been filled with trauma. Peter already had to deal with being in witness protection, Mary trying to kill him, kidnap and sell him. Now not only would Peter learn how he was a product of rape, but he’s been raped too. Not only was Peter the product of rape, he was named after Tony. Mary had named Peter after the person she raped, and how was Peter supposed to live with that knowledge? Tony could hardly stand it himself.

“If you’re worried about Peter because of your past, then you’re already doing better than you think you are.” 

Pepper was too nice to him. She was too nice to a person who knowingly abandoned their child. Tony set Peter up for a life of misery. Because of Tony Peter had to go through all that he did. What happened to Peter was all Tony’s fault. He should have done better. Tony should have done better the night he was taken, and he should have done better when his fate was sealed. Instead Tony didn’t only let himself suffer but Peter as well. 

A knock at the door stopped the conversation from moving any further.

May Parker stood there, and it was obvious that she was tired. Her hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun, her face red, and there was a fading water stain on her old grey sweater. Even though she looked exhausted she kept herself to stand in a guarded way, like she was trying to keep the exhaustion and emotions away.

“I have a teen upstairs who exhausted himself out from his hysterical crying. A super soldier had to restrain Peter to stop him from hurting himself. We need to talk. Any chance we can be alone?”

Peter needed to be restrained. He was hurting himself in his hysteric’s and Tony couldn’t help but blame himself. If he had done better, looked at the pictures or not been kidnapped again Peter wouldn’t be in pain. Mary said everything, she screamed it all for Peter to know and now Peter was hurting. Tony should have been better. He could have done more to make sure this never happened. Peter was hurting because of the truth and the way it was delivered. Things should have been explained to Peter in a better way. Peter didn’t deserve this.

“Uh,” Tony hesitated. Pepper left the room but Rhodey stayed. “I’m sorry, Rhodey needs to stay here. I can’t- uh, we’ll not even get to a conversation if he leaves.”

Her eyebrows raised, but she seemed to accept this stepping into the room anyways.

Tony tried to pretend that he wasn’t bothered by her presence. That her brown hair wasn’t actually brown, that May wasn’t a woman standing over him in bed. She was just Peter’s aunt. May wasn’t Mary even if her name was one letter removed. Rhodey is here and he won’t let anything happen. He’s had Tony’s back since MIT, it’s not like Rhodey will turn his back on Tony now. They’ve been through too much together.

“So you and Mary?” The rest of the question left unsaid.

“He was born in April, right? Of 2001?”

Looking at May wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t using her nice face. She was too close. Tony was too guilty. He never should have left that party, not with Mary. It would have been so much easier if that night he’d gone to Happy and Rhodey before he left. Everything would have been easier had he just taken some responsibility.

“So you knew you had a child,” Angry, May was so Angry. Tony just needed to not think about it, “you knew about Peter.”

Rhodey’s hand was warm. Tony appreciated the comfort he was getting despite not doing anything that deserved it. If anything Tony deserved to be punished for what he’d done. For abandoning Peter with Mary. For letting himself get kidnapped by her again.

“I went missing in 2000. About half way through the year. Suddenly I reappeared in January of 2001. Rumors went around that I was in rehab or other’s believe it was a really bad bender, we never denied any of it. No one knew what actually happened until two years ago when I told Pepper what happened. I was supposed to be a playboy, no one was going to believe me.”

The silence was deafening. 

Every second that May didn’t speak was another second that Tony imagined a slow, painful death at her hands. She wouldn’t believe Tony, there’s no reason she should. Tony had a reputation, and people couldn’t see past that. He put on an impeccable mask for the public to tear apart so no one would know what he’s actually like. It was a great mask, a great cover, a great story, but it had come back to haunt him before and this will just be the same. May wasn’t going to believe that Tony Stark, Iron Man, an Avenger, was kidnapped by some Mary Benson. No one was going to believe him.

He never wanted anyone to know. 

What if no one believed Tony? He would lose all his friends, his life. Tony would only have Pepper and Rhodey. While once in his life they were all he had, now Tony had so much more. He didn’t want to lose the people he had now because of one person.

Tony needed to be alone. He can’t do this. Mary ruined his life, both now and sixteen years ago. She took a hold of Tony’s life and wouldn’t let go.

“So Peter is... Mary raped you?”

That was disbelief. That was disbelief. May didn’t believe him. Tony never gave her any opportunities to actually believe him. He took Peter out of the country without her consent and never told May about Spider-Man. Those were very big reasons to never believe a word out of his mouth. Tony wasn’t trustworthy. May will think things were the other way around. Of course she will, these things don’t happen to a guy because of a girl.

Tony needed to breath. He needed to answer May.

Words. Tony just needed to find words. He needed to answer her. Words. They do the things that lets him communicate. Words have always been easy. He just needed to vocalize. Admit what happened to someone who isn’t Pepper or Rhodey. Just confirm it.

Speak, Tony. Speak!

“Yes,” Rhodey answered, his voice strained, “Mary kidnapped him and abused him for months. Peter only exists because of it. Tony never wanted what happened to him and he’s been struggling ever since.”

Again there was silence.

The silence wasn’t very nice. It was tense and it hurt, sharp around all the edges. And Tony’s chest hurt and this was all his fault. There was no one else to blame. Tony should have done better.

“Oh. Tony... You- oh.”

She understood?

May understood. She understood. There wasn’t going to be screaming or yelling or arms waving in the air. No telling Tony he’s a bad person or that he’s a liar and did everything that Mary actually did. He wasn’t being told he was wrong for abandoning Peter or that he should own up to his mistakes. There was just understanding.

Tony finally looked up at her. His eyes were filled with tears making May blurry. But he could see her enough to see the pain she was in. The pain he created was written all across her body. Her hunched shoulders, the hands covering her face, the space between her eyebrows creased, the way May was leaning completely forward. Tony caused her pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, May.”

May straightened herself out, letting herself sob only once. “Tony, it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. Peter won’t either. We’re family now so we’ll get through it. We’ve got this”

Family. Huh. How about that.

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[jisungiepwark52]

afraid ; han jisung

" i can't let go or i can't catch you "

" yahh y/n~ " you heard someone called out to you as you turned behind to see your best friend, jisung. you guys been friends for as long as you can remember. it won't be a lie to say you fall for him.

you guys hugged each other as you both chatted on the way to your class. you both arrived there and sat on your individual seats.

" hey your friends with jisung right? " a voice said as you looked up to see haeun. she's one of the prettiest,kindest and smartest girl. an ideal type of every guy.

you nodded at her and she gave you a pink envelope. " help me give this to him please. thanks " she said as she ran off to her seat.

" hey what did she give you " you heard your tablemate, minho asked. you showed him the envelope as he gasped.

" yoo she's giving a love letter to him. see. theres a heart after beside his name. a pink envelope. " you looked at him who's inspecting the envelope.

you would be lying to say you weren't jealous. you wanted to tear and throw the letter away, but you were in position to do that. you sighed as you put in your bag probably giving it later when you both go back together.

you looked at his seat to see haeun sitting beside talking and laughing. you looked down hoping not to see it again.

" jisungg~~ lets go home. im so tired today " you said as you moved near to jisung as he was packing his bag.

" sorry y/n. im hanging out with haeun today " your heart dropped.

" oh okay. i understand see you tomorrow " you said to him giving him a wave as he went out of class with haeun. you looked down biting your lips hoping your tears not to flow out.

you began walking home alone. never have you ever walked home alone cause jisung was always there to accompany you. " if she's moving so fast on him why did she give me this letter. why couldnt she just give it to him herself. " you thought " it's okay y/n its just one day. " you talked to yourself as you plugged on your earpiece and continue waking home.

well it wasn't one day. more like everyday. everyday jisung couldn't go home with you, he was 24/7 with haeun. even during project works when he could choose his own partner he would be with haeun. no more sleep overs, no more walking back together. no more shopping together. he was with her that much that you couldnt even give the letter she gave you to him.

jisung was laughing, his gummy smile showing. his eyes becoming smaller. but the reason wasnt you. it was haeun. you would be saying you didnt feel lonely. you felt that your heart shattered. he just pushed you to the side. you still had the letter in your hand. you gained the courage to go to them.

you put the letter on his table as he faced you. " haeun wanted to give you this letter last time but i couldn't find time with you so here it is " you said smiling trying not to cry.

" y/n wait lets hang ou- "

" sorry ji im going back home im not feeling well " you said cutting his sentence as you walked back to your seat to get your bag and telling minho to inform your teacher that you went home as you exiting the classroom.

this was the third day. the third day since you've been crying non stop. since you gave him haeun's letter. he probably doesnt care about me. he's probably together with her now. you thought

you took out your diary. you wrote all your happiest and saddest memories in there. including the days you went home alone.

' dear diary,

well its the third day now. my heart still hurts. why am i so weak. i should be happy for him if they're together. but why am i not? why didn't i confess earlier. i cant let him go or i cant catch him - '

the bell rang. stopping you from writing as you made it through your apartment. opening the door to see him. your eyes widened. your tears threatening to fall any sooner. your glossy eyes staring at his big eyes.

" ji- "

" stop y/n. why? why are you not going to school. why didnt you answered my texts. why? am i a bad friend " jisung said as his tears realised from his eyes. guilt. was what you felt. you made him cry.

" i- had to " you said as you looked down.

" what? " jisung said with a confused face.

" you spent too much time with haeun jisung. i went home alone. when was the last time we did out movie night. you won't probably remember. your probably together with her now. getting a letter of love is every guys dream and you got it from her. she's everyone ideal type. probably yours too. but why jisung? why? i can't let go or i can't catch you. i love you so much jisung but it's better for us not to see each other anymore. sorry. " you said as you sobbed. covering your face with both hands, not wanting to see his reaction.

you moved back, wanting to close the door. am i finally letting him go? you thought as you closed to door but instead felt a hand on your wrist. you looked up to see his red eyes looking directly into your soul.

" y/n. what makes you think im together with her, when the person i love is in front of me " he said smiling to you holding your small hands in his.

he leaned in closer to you. your heart beating faster. his soft lips on yours. your eyes widened. you closed your eyes enjoying the kiss. he pulled away from the kiss putting his forehead on yours. looking at you sweetly.

" the letter was from my aunt who i haven't seen for very long. as for haeun, she's my cousin but she was scared to give the letter directly to me cause she didnt want to give the letter to the wrong person. but she remembers you from the pictures i had in my album. i hanged out with her so much was to get advice on how to confess to you. y/n i love you more than you think i do. i love you as if your my world. out of the billion people in this world i choose you. your my light. im sorry for making you go back alone. ditching our movie night- "

" ji i love you "

[razorblade180]

Rosebud prep 12

It’s the day after Ruby and Jaune return. The sun is still rising above the Vacou sand dunes but rays still pierces through their window. A ray lands on Jaune’s face and the light stirs him awake slowly.

Jaune:Mmmggh Ruby? I think we need better blinds.

....

Jaune:Ruby?

His hand moves around to try to find her. Reluctantly he opens his eyes ti see his wife wasn’t on the couch anymore. Most of her clothes were still on the floor where the fell last night. ‘At least that means she’s still here, hopefully.’ His shirt was missing however. Fine by him. Jaune wasn’t even in the mood to wear pants right now but for the sake of her absence being potentially bad, walking around in boxers could end badly. “Ruby? You still here?”

“Just upstairs. Don’t worry, still here.” Her voice reassuring him, given recent events . “You don’t have to come up here though if you don’t want to J-”

The sound of footsteps cut her off. One by one they grew louder until suddenly, it stopped. Ruby couldn’t see him yet but she knew he right outside the doorway. A slow inhale followed by an exhale reached her ears. This had to be difficult for him. Jaune pushed open the door and saw Ruby standing in the middle of the room wearing his shirt that was comedically oversized on her. Too bad they were both too down to smile about it. Jaune walked behind Ruby and wrapped his arms around her waist; the comfort loved immensely for the both of them. Her hands raise up to meet his and holds them in place.

Ruby:You didn’t have to come in here with me you know?

Jaune:I’ll never let you go through something alone. That’s what it means to be a partner right? Not to mention your husband. Guess that makes it double, no, triple my priority.

Ruby:Triple?

Jaune:Am I not your best friend?

Ruby:Weiss might feel someway about you saying that.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. Silently they looked around nursery everyone spent so much time building. The burgundy walls the connected to the soft purple carpet they spent forever installing. Blake’s old book shelves filled with children’s books and was next to the playpen Weiss bought. Some toys Ren and Nora generously donated from their orphanage. The crib Jaune and Ruby spent hours picking out......

Ruby’s grip on Jaune tighten ever so slightly. A piece of her wanted to drop to her knees but she refused to allow it. Not just for Jaune either, if she cave into sadness again then who knows when she’d get up again? Jaune felt Ruby lean more into him and he depended the embrace. There was always something about the way he held her that Ruby couldn’t explain. Whatever it was, she was thankful for it. Life seemed a little more manageable with it; Ruby felt a little stronger each time.

Jaune:You okay?

Ruby:I will be. One step at a time, things get better. They always do with enough time.

Jaune:Keep talking like that and someone should make you a headmaster.

Ruby:Sounds stuffy and boring. I like the field.

Jaune:I would hope so. The Storyteller, very majestic.

Ruby:So you heard?

Jaune:Maria has told everyone about her handy work. She’s very proud of the nickname, and of you.

Ruby:You know me, I am to a please. Speaking of which, last night was nice. *red* Really nice. A years worth of attention in one night is....

Jaune:Intense?

Ruby:Numbing. That’s worth a story in its own right.

Jaune:Well, it is important you don’t forget to create your own while trying to help others with theirs.*kisses her cheek*

Ruby:Trust me, no way I could forget. Too many important people wouldn’t stand for it. Besides, I tell plenty of people just how great the people in my life are. I’m not the only famous person on Remnant ya know?

Jaune:Wouldn’t mind meeting them if I got the chance. All the people you saved.

Ruby:.....Let’s do it.

Jaune:What?

Ruby:Let’s take a trip around Remnant. Just the two of us; like a second honeymoon. We can explore, see some sights, meet some people, reconnect.....a year without you is big regret. I won’t to make up for lost time. *interlocks fingers*

Jaune:A second honeymoon huh? Hehe, only you come up with ideas like this.

She flashes a smile before looking around the room again. A resolve in her dim eyes trying to break its way through.

Ruby:One day, we’ll fill this room with a child’s laughter, but no need to rush. Right now, healing with you is what matters. I know you said you weren’t upset with me but I can’t help but feel like I should tell you again that I’m-

Jaune’s right hand removes itself from her grasp and raises to tilt her head up. Just like that, her words were cut off by another kiss. Not like she minded. This was her favorite way for Jaune to tell her to shut up. Ruby’s free hand went to his hair and slightly tugged it; silently asking him to lean down a bit more for a longer kiss. Instead he uses his other hand to hook around the back of he legs and the one on Ruby’s flushed face went to the center of her back. She got the message and hopped into his arms. The entire time they never separated from each other from the simple and passionate kiss. Finally Jaune pulled back which led to a bit of Ruby’s frustration. She almost leaned in for another but managed to control the impulse.

Jaune:Let’s go take a bath.

Ruby:Okay...

xxxx

One week passed before the two set off on their journey. In that time, things already seemed to get a tiny bit easier. Smiles lasted longer, sleeping wasn’t restless, and the air itself, it felt less tense. Then a month passed; now the two sit on a boat that travels the known seas. Jaune watched the ocean hypnotically while Ruby laid back in a chair; eyes closed in serenity.

Ruby:You know, I kinda forgot what it’s like to just sit down and let things....drift I guess is the word? No destination really planned. We’re simply going.

Jaune:Yeah. Last time we were on a honeymoon though, I don’t remember packing our weapons too. Not that I’m complaining.

Ruby:Better safe than sorry. Not to mention the public has gotten in a habit of running up to me and asking for help. Most of the time it’s legit. Also kids like to get picture of me with it. So be ready for that.

Jaune:No worries. You look sexy when you’re working anyways. At least that’s what rumors say.

Ruby:Your opinion?

Jaune:Well.....*smiles*

Bzzz!! Bzzz!!

Jaune:Your scroll is ringing.

Ruby:Hold that thought, it’s Yang. *grabs scroll* Hey sis.

Yang:H..hey Ruby.

Ruby:You okay? *stands up* You sound a bit weird.

Yang:Y...Yeah! Just....

Ruby:Yang?

Yang:.....Promise you won’t get mad, or upset? It’s just, I really want you to be the first to tell you this but I’m not sure how things might turn out. I know you’re in a sensitive time in your life but-

Ruby:*pulls up face time*

Yang is caught off gaurd and jumps as Ruby looks at her; noticing that the blonde girl is wearing a night shirt and sweatpants. Her skin is practically glowing but her face screams anxious, yet exhilarated.

Ruby:.....So you took the next step?

Yang:.....*nods* I’m....pregnant. Hehehe *tearing up* For almost a month.

Ruby:*grins* Congratulations, I mean that.

Yang:Really? I...I was really scared to tell you. I’m also scared that maybe...something.... what if comes back?

Ruby:Don’t worry. I’ll-

Jaune:We’ll won’t let that happen.

Yang:Jaune?

Jaune:*walks into view* I promise. We’ll help you every step of the way. Clothes, medicine, talks....

Ruby:Extra food, room building, the day of the birth, we’ll help however we can. It’s what good Aunts and Uncles would do right?

Yang:....*crying* You guys are so....so...*sobbing*

Ruby:H..hey! I don’t remember hormones kicking in that fast for me.

Yang:It’s not that! It’s....why couldn’t I do that for you!? I care about you both and I was so excited to be the coolest aunt ever while still being your big sis. But when it was all said and done.....I let that slept through my fingers. I couldn’t run fast enough.

Ruby:I never blamed for that day. You did the best that/

Yang:It’s still infuriating! Jaune understands.

Ruby:*looks at him*

Jaune:I don’t know if you ever knew but, Yang was rushing up the building and made it to the roof too. So did Weiss.

Yang:She hasn’t said anything much either but she’s still frustrated over that day too. *sniff* Ruby you’re the world to us. Blake still chastises herself for not noticing any kind of clue. So to hear you say that you’ll be there for me when I failed so hard......I’m so sorry.

Yang’s hand covered her mouth and tears kept flowing like I broken dam. Ruby could only watch from the other side of the screen as her own heart started to break. Has everyone been carrying this pain? Why didn’t she see it before? Would Weiss and even her own uncle have a similar reaction to her sister? After all this time of thinking the only people struggling to progress was her and Jaune, was that wrong? Did everyone feel stuck in some way. That had to be true to some extent; which meant Ruby couldn’t help but feel terrible. ‘Have I....been being selfish this whole time? Did going it alone hurt everyone?’

The thought made her stomach feel like a knot. Their happily ever after really was a long way to go, and she had been a contributor to that. Ruby’s lip started to quiver but the feel of Jaune’s hand grabbing hers pushed away the bleak thoughts. He looked at her with a soft smile that said everything she needed to hear without a word being uttered. Ruby nodded and looked back a Yang who was still torn up over her own guilt.

Ruby:Yang, listen to me. You’re still the best sister I could ask for.

Yang:....

Ruby:I don’t know if my words will reach you but I hope they do. You’re someone, that deserves the world; all of you are. Not because you want to help me as much as possible, but because people like you, Blake, Weiss, you try your damnedest with anyone in need. Life though, it gets the better of us. We fail when we don’t want to. And I know it feels like we shouldn’t have failed with Dustin but..*tearing up* we did. It happened. He’s gone.

........

Ruby:Let’s learn from it, and makes sure it never happens again. Down but not out. I learned that from watching you. So please, don’t waste tears on me. Grow with me instead.

Yang finds it in herself to look Ruby again. Her little sister’s eyes are clearly fighting back their own tears and the brilliant silver shine still remains clouded. Yet, they never looked more determined. Yang wiped her face and nodded.

Yang:Can you by any chance, stop by a visit? I really want to hug you.

Ruby:You couldn’t stop me from showing up anyways. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I love you. Now stop putting stress on the baby. Leaders orders. I gotta go. Also tell your wife the good news! You’re having baby! Be excited.

Yang:*takes a breath* Yes ma’am. Ruby, I love you too. *hangs up*

Ruby:......

Jaune:How are you feeling right now?

Ruby:Honestly? Like shit. I should probably call Weiss now. Who knows just how rough she’s feeling.

Jaune:You know, crying is still okay Ruby. If you wanna take a moment to process.

Ruby:*fidgeting with scroll* That feels a bit wrong. All things considered. I can manage.

Jaune:*cups her face* This isn’t about managing Ruby. It’s about allowing yourself to go through the sadness. There’s strength in tears. No need to rush grief. I’m not.

Her heart felt like it skipped at those words. Ruby’s entire body trembled and her jaw clenched. Tears managed to leak out despite her desperate attempt to fight them back. She could feel instinct to just run off; to not be seen like this. There was nowhere to go however, and Jaune knew that. He slowly pulled her into an embrace that he could tell was hard for Ruby to accept. The poor girl’s mind weighed down with still so much frustration.

They stood like this until finally, a whimper. Then the whimper gave way to more tears. Ruby’s arms went up to hold Jaune tight and it was all over from there. Mournful wails echoed through the air and tears stained his shirt. If Ruby had been a bit quieter then Jaune’s own sniffling and pain might’ve been heard. It was hard, taking steps together. But not as hard as doing it alone. One day everyone would come out on the other end fine, but for right now, they stood in place and just simply cried.

xxxx

Blake:Hehe, is it weird I’m not used to see you both so much anymore?

Ruby:*rubs head* Is it bad I get lost getting to your house now?

Blake:You’re fine. *hugs her* I’m glad your here. Both of you.

Jaune:Would’ve been here sooner but had to find another boat, grimm attack, more grimm. It’s been an interesting two weeks.

Ruby:He’s slightly out of shape is what he’s saying.

Jaune:Hey! I’m getting my groove back. Oh! Congratulations by the way. We probably should’ve lead with that.

Blake:*smiles* Thank you. I’m still kinda in shock about the whole thing. My parents have already gone full grand parent mode. I can barely keep up.

Ruby:It’s not over yet. Dad told me he sending a bunch of gifts this way so be ready for that hurricane. Where’s Yang?

Blake:*steps aside* getting cozy.

Ruby and Jaune walk in and hear snoring coming from the other room. “I know that snore anywhere.” Ruby peaks around the corner and sees her sister knocked out on the couch. Drool drips onto a black and yellow pillow and a bit on her arm. Yang is completely spread out on her back. Ruby looks at blonde’s stomach and sees the baby bump.

Jaune:Damn, this makes me wish I took a picture of you during this time. I could swap the heads on them and it would be the exact same photo.

Ruby:Rude. I slept gracefully.

Blake:You snored and drool all throughout Beacon.

Ruby:*red* Well....yeah.

Blake:Weiss drops by when she’s can. She’s super excited about all this; probably more than anyone else. We can call her and try to set up some plan or something for whatever might happen. It might calm her nerves about the whole thing.

Ruby:Actually, right now I got something I want do.

xxxx

Yang:*waking up* Mmmm, Blake, what time is-

Ruby:*sleeping next to her*Zzzzzz

Her breath slightly tickled Yang’s nose. The girl had snuggled up right next to her and held her close like she used to do all the time. Yang reached over gently brushed a few red strands of hair away from Ruby’s face. She looked so...peaceful. Time had made Ruby older and definitely into a beautiful young woman, but the face of the little Yang loved and cherished was still there plain as day. She planted a kiss on her forehead and raised a giggle out of her. Ruby opened her eyes smiled.

Ruby:Hey sis.

Yang:Hey yourself. Whatcha doing?

Ruby:Oh you know, trying to make everything okay.

Yang:So the usual?

Ruby:That is the usual, isn’t it? I’m sorry we weren’t able to talk about what you were going through sooner.

Yang:Can we make a promise right here? No more apologies. I think we’ve had more of those than actual conversations at this point. Between us, we will always be good.

Ruby:Deal. So, what happens next?

Yang:Nothing. I’m keeping this moment for as long as I can.

Ruby:Sounds like a plan. Your baby sure is going to be lucky to have you.

Yang:So will your next one. Never be afraid to start again.

Ruby:I know. I’m just waiting for something. A feeling or a spark.

Yang:With Jaune?

Ruby:No, there’s plenty of fireworks there. Those might actually be stronger than before and I didn’t think that was possible.

Yang:*wiggles eyebrows* I bet there’s been a lot of “apologizing.”

Ruby:*red* Shut up dork. I think I’m just waiting for some gut feeling to jump back into that process. Not counting the ending, my pregnancy was a bit rough; definitely painful. I have to steel myself for that again and just feel...man it’s hard to explain.

Yang:You’ll know it’s time when it happens. I can understand. Well when you are ready, I’ll be there to support you.

Ruby:I know you will. You’re my awesome big sister. I love you.

Yang:And I, love you. *kisses forehead* The original duo. Now and forever. The energetic strawberry to my sunrise.

Ruby:I prefer gold and silver sisters.

Yang:Ooooo that’s pretty good. We starting a new legend.

Ruby:Please, we always were one.

The two of the smile before dozing off again. Both revitalized. Both finally finding their groove again.

Part 11

[7deadlycinderellas]

in the dark of the moon I planted, but there came an early snow 1/4

Ao3 link

It hadn’t been hard, really.

The Hound had been far too distracted by filling his gut with his coveted chicken that he hadn’t realized she’d slipped away. With Needle clutched tightly in one hand and blood still rushing under her skin from killing Polliver, it had been easy. The stout gray mare tied up outside had shown no distress at her untying and mounting her. She moved surprisingly fast for an old nag.

The day after she leaves, it begins to rain. She doesn’t feel the cold or the wet. She’s just pleased it’s covering her trail.

That day the hunger begins to get at her. All she manages to find is a handful of berries, and she barely checks to see if they appear to look edible before shoveling them down. Might that be better, if they gave her stomach cramps and shakes and she died out here, alone.

She has no idea where she’s going. Is she still in the Riverlands? She thinks about finding a village, it’s dangerous out here for a lone girl.

She finds one one day, and stares from out in the trees. The people look blessedly ordinary. They push their carts and smile and laugh. Their buildings are still in shambles. The war has not stopped here. Arya sees several crying.

Arya turns her back to them and leaves.

She wonders if the Hound is still following her.

The rain continues, and the air becomes colder.

The hunger pit in her stomach gets stronger the further she rides. It grows and grows and threatens to swallow her alive. To burst forth from her gut, a demon all it’s own.

She steals a loaf of bread off a windowsill. The beast abates, enough for the girl to feel guilt.

She’s getting closer to the sea, she thinks at least. The smell of salt is on the air, the way it was on the Kingsroad when they passed through the Riverlands. She guesses that she’s heading southeast,  she’d tried so hard to turn away from the Eyrie, and away from wherever it was the Hound wanted to take her. Her Aunt Lysa. She might be her only remaining family, but Arya has never met her.

At night, as she recites her list, her mind cycles through their faces.

Her father, she is glad Yoren stopped her from seeing him. Her mother, throat slit from ear to ear like that Frey man had laughed about. Robb and Grey Wind, defiled even in death.There are rumours out of Winterfell, about Bran and Rickon that she can’t even contemplate.

Who knew what had even become of Jon, at the wall?

Sansa, wed to a Lannister, rumor had it. Though Arya mused, the Imp was far superior to Joffrey. Lost to her either way.

She doesn’t let herself think of Gendry, of his face as they dragged him off tied like a hog, sold for coin like one too.

Afterwards, she goes through her list of names again, before passing out with Needle on her lap.

She keeps her ears perked up, and at the tiniest hint of voices in the distance, she and the old nag will flee.

One night, she hears men laughing. Even without hearing their words she feels the rage ball up in her chest and has to press her head into the ground to try and block it out. They’re probably only laughing at a fart.

Though most days she prefers the rage to the numbness.

She tries to exhaust herself, so that the dreams won’t plague her. Even the wolf dreams, where she runs through the underbrush, the scent of blood on her nose, don’t please her the way they used to. If she ran into Nymeria, would she even let her see her? Or had she gone wild again?

The smell of salt leaves the air, and Arya’s less sure of where she’s going. Eventually, she finds another village, but to call it a village seems wrong. It’s a corpse. Buildings are crumbled, destroyed, burned. The fields too. The people too, walk around as though dead themselves.

Arya remembers vaguely hearing about the rampage committed by Lannister men led by the Mountain. That had been near Pinkmaiden. Clearly she was further west than she had first thought.

It was easy enough to tie Nan (she’d decided sometime before Nan was a good enough name for a horse) to a tree and begin helping the men and boys who were clearing debris. They don’t ask questions.

She’s not sure how long she’s been here, fetching and carrying, sleeping in the woods, eating the gruel they all share when they have it, not talking to people. Maybe a sennight or two. It rains the whole time.

It helps. She still feels cold and angry inside, but now she’s too tired to dwell on it, and in the freezing rain she supposes no one else can tell.

Sometime past the third sennight, one of the women who brings them food twice a day shoves a bowl of gruel into her hands and tells her to take it to the smithy.

“We need more nails, and he don’t come outside for nothing it seems.”

The forge could barely be called a building anymore, half of it’s roof has been caved in and smoke billows from it. But it is still being worked.

She didn’t give it any sort of thought. There were thousands of blacksmiths across all of Westeros, every keep and every town and every village had one.

She had absolutely no reason to think that when she came in and called out, “the men need more nails”, the smith would turn to her voice and she would meet a pair of blue eyes she was certain belonged to a dead man.

She drops the bowl.

Sometime later, over the remains of the gruel, she asks.

“What did the Red Woman want with you?”

Gendry wipes his mouth and says, as slowly as possible.

“My blood. She would have killed me, but one of Stannis’s men put me in a boat and set me free.”

Arya is skeptical.

“You got here from a boat?”

Gendry shrugs.

“I can’t row, or swim. I tried to follow Ser Davos’s directions….but I got lost. Got out as soon as I saw dry land. Meant to head back to King’s Landing, got lost again. People here needed help, seemed a good enough place. Better than King’s Landing. No kings and queens.”

No kings and queens to help them rebuild from the rampage of the king’s man, Arya thought.

They’ve finished up, and Arya plans to leave to sleep beside Nan again, when Gendry asks.

“What about you?”

Arya had been hoping he wouldn’t ask.

“I ran from the Brotherhood, got grabbed by the Hound. Immediately. Made it to the Twins, then we left. He let his guard down and I ran again.”

Gendry’s face goes cold. It’s not been warm before, not even like it had been when she’d seen him last.

“There-there have been stories making their way here about the Twins…”

Arya’s voice is even, dead.

“They’re true. I was there. I was outside. They killed my mother, my brother, his wife, their child, most of their men. Many men I’ve known since I was a child. They slit my mother’s throat and threw her body in the river. They killed my brother’s wolf too, cut off his head and sewed it to Robb’s body…”

Her words are pointed. Saying them makes the ice in her gut begin to burn again. It’s something more than the nothing that it’s been.

Gendry, to his credit, lets her talk.

When night falls, Arya looks him up and down.

“Where have you been sleeping?”

He points to a blanket in the corner, in the part of the forge that still has a roof.

He has a blanket, she has a horse. They’ll get soaked either way, so when she tilts her head out the door, he follows her without comment.

Her stomach swoops slightly, when she realizes that in the handful of moons since she’d seen him, she’s already gotten a bit taller.

The first night, overcome by the memories of the nights on the road to Harrenhal, she rolls onto her side and lays a hand across his shoulder.

His muscles tense up underneath her fingers.

“Please don’t touch me.”

His voice is rough, rougher than she’s heard him before. She obeys, rolling to lay in the opposite direction, heart a little more of a hole than before.

In the morning, she shows him Needle.

“The Hound and I found Polliver. A fight ensued, I got this back and stabbed him through the throat.”

“Just like Lommy,” Gendry says, with understanding. He doesn’t flinch. Maybe someday she’ll even tell him about the stable boy.

It’s while they’re still in Pinkmaiden that they hear what happened to Joffrey.

As soon as they’re away from the others, Arya doubles over in laughter. It’s hollow laughter.

“I wanted to be the one to do it,” she admits, “I thought I’d slit his throat with Needle, or poison him, or choke him on a chicken bone if I had to.”

She giggles more at the thought of Joffrey’s beautiful golden face purple with lack of air.

“At least that’s one name off your list.”

She still recites the list every night, without fail. She leaves on the Red Woman and the others, and she feels Gendry shift at her back every time. His breathing is rough, even in sleep, and some nights he tosses and turns. Bad dreams, Arya imagines, much like her.

After maybe two or three moons, Arya’s feet feel the need to shift underneath her.

“I don’t think we should stay here,” she tells Gendry, “As things get better here, people will start to talk, to ask questions. Especially if they see me with Needle.”

A girl wearing trousers was unusual enough, a girl with trousers and a sword would definitely be remembered. And though she knows she’s no beauty, she has felt her arms and legs lengthening and suspects her years of disguising herself as a boy are coming to an end.

The first days in Pinkmaiden, Arya had tucked Needle carefully away under a rock near where Nan was tied. Once she’d found Gendry, she’d taken to leaving it in the forge.

Gendry’s face is grave.

“Where can we go?”

Arya sighs, tucking her knees up to her chest.

“I don’t know. Winterfell has been taken, Riverrun’s under control of the Freys. The Hound is probably still in the Vale trying to find me. I’m not going back to King’s Landing. I don’t know enough about the Stormlands or the Reach to risk it…”

Gendry’s quiet for a long time.

“We could just pick a direction and go. If something happens, we’ll pick up and move again. We’re getting good at it.”

She looks at him, a touch of longing in her eyes. He doesn’t want to leave her again. And she supposes that that’s something.

They set off in the night, with little more than the clothes on their backs and some of Gendry’s tools. They still have Nan though, and that’s something too.

Despite their plan, Arya deliberately does not guide them west. The Westerlands are Lannister lands and if they end up there Arya does not think she will be able to keep a lid on her rage. These days, she mostly settles for level instead of dead. She would have thought rage would keep her warm, but most nights it just threatens to help her freeze.

It’s in a tavern, somewhere in the Riverlands that they hear of King Tommen’s coronation.

Arya shoves her last bite of her pie down. Gendry had a tiny bit of coin left from what Davos had given him, but they didn’t want to waste it. That day, they had found the tiny tavern, off the beaten path, and they were just too hungry to resist. They forage some, hunt and trap with their miniscule knowledge, but it barely keeps them fed.

“Looks like a babe he does,” the man swears, “Not even a hint of a beard.”

“Babe or not, he still the spawn of incest-”

The innkeep comes over and cuts him off with the slap of a wooden spoon to the head.

“There will be no talk of that here. I won’t be bringing the king’s men down on this place.”

And Arya and Gendry slink off to their spot in the woods.

“I remember Tommen,” she admits, “He was really shy, always off playing with his kittens. Joffrey was horrid to him as well.”

“Do you think he’ll make a better king than his brother?”

Arya shakes her head slowly.

“They’re right, he’s basically a babe. He’ll be under one thumb of his mother and one of his Hand, Tywin.”

Gendry can’t keep the distaste at the name of Tywin Lannister off of his face. Arya thinks grimly, that he had somehow seemed to like her.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll kill each other.”

And Arya laughs, again.

After a day or two of hitting water, with a sinking feeling Arya realizes they’ve hit the God’s Eye. It’s a decent spot, good fishing as long as winter hasn’t set in. But up, directly north of the God’s Eye lies Harrenhal.

Sometimes at night, Arya wakes up early in the dark, and thinks she’s still there.

Sometimes she stares off into the lake, where the isle of faces lies. Maybe they could swim out there, live among the weirwoods, like the children of the forest did.

It’s by the shores by the God’s Eye that Gendry wakes one morning to Arya rustling through their belongings, her breeches unlaced and halfway down her legs.

“Arya, what are you-”

“Do you have any bandages, extra stockings, an old shirt maybe?”

Her voice is almost panicked. He almost joins her when he notices the dark red stains on her smallclothes, before his mind catches up with the situation.

She eventually finds an empty burlap sack that she slices with Needle and folds thick. It would do until they could reach a village and she could trade for some lambswool.

She spends most of the morning in the lake, nude from the waist down, trying to scrub her small clothes clean. She can’t fight the feeling that the blood might attract predators, even though part of her brain insists that that’s stupid.

When she returns to camp, Gendry can’t look at her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she chides him, sitting and eating from their pitiful stash of nuts and berries. She’s the same as yesterday, just now bleeding from the cunt.

Later that day, she admits.

“Know what I keep thinking of? If I hadn’t ran when I did, I might have been with the Hound when this happened.”

She wonders if the Hound knew anything about how women’s bodies worked. Would he have let her ride her own horse now?

She laughs roughly, though Gendry remains silent.

Later that night, with her stomach aching, she wishes Gendry would rest a hand on her middle, just for the hint of warmth. Arya remembers the stories her septa told her, of lost maidenheads and childbirth. It wasn’t fair. Did every part of womanhood involve pain?

And quietly, a few moons later, she confides to Gendry.

“I’ve flowered. If I had gone back to my family, they could marry me off now. Might have already betrothed me to someone, for all I know.”

But they’re dead now, she doesn’t say. They’re dead, and she can’t know. Can’t be angry at them, even if they had done it, because they’re dead and she’s grieving. She continues though,

“That’s all a highborn girl is. A tool for her family to use for their benefit, no input from her required.”

She’s needling him, because after all of this, sometimes he still slips up and calls her “milady.” The last time had been in a tavern, in front of people. People who might hear him.

Sometimes she catches him looking at her now. Looking at her in a way. It doesn’t bother her, the way she often thought it might. In fact, secretly she might admit she likes it. But she hates what comes after, the look of self-loathing that always seems to follow. She hates that he still thinks of himself as less than her.

And he still won’t touch her.

One early morning, Arya twitches awake to the sounds of leaves rustling. She smells the man’s breath, heavy with ale, before she feels the hand even reaches to cover her mouth.

Her heart hammers itself to life. She still sleeps with Needle under her.

The man is alone, and drunk. It is easy enough to slice up the arm that’s grabbing her, splitting the artery that bleeds heavily. He screams and falls half on top of her, his weight trapping her, pressing her into the ground.

She hadn’t even realized Gendry had woken, but the man clearly hadn’t either. Had he just seen a young girl asleep in the grass, ignoring the lad and horse along with her? Arya’s mouth tastes of bile as Gendry pulls the man off her, and she crawls to her feet and slashes his throat. He howls as he dies.

Gendry is breathing as heavily as the bull he was often accused of being, and looking at Arya like she was a creature from one of Old Nan’s stories.

The dead man has a dagger in his belt, and Arya feels a fresh rush of bile at the thought that he could have used it. He could have gutted her before she could even grasp for Needle.

“Take it,” she tells Gendry, “You’re not armed. What if you had been on your own?”

She thinks on the man’s throat gaping open, and retches, remembering what had become of her mother. She imagines Walder Frey meeting his end in the same way, skin sagging open as the life drained from him.

The rains start again. They’ve managed to avoid Harrenhal, but Arya still often notices patches of land that ring familiar to her mind. The rain stops this, leaves them wandering.

There’s no water to fish in, they can’t forage as easily in the rain. The hunger begins to get to them, and so it’s unspoken between them. They must find an inn, somewhere to both fill their bellies and rest their bones. They’re down to the very last of Gendry’s coin, miraculously having not lost it to robbers.

It’s raining too heavily, so they don’t recognize it. They tie Nan up as best as they can, and push through the front door against the wailing wind.

The inside isn’t large, but it is blessedly dry, and a girl about Arya’s age approaches them, her feet skidding.

“Are you lookin’ for a room or just a meal?”

Arya barely opens her mouth when a head sticks out from where the kitchen is and yells.

“Willow! The soup’s done!”

Arya freezes. She feels Gendry go tense beside her. Not a sound will escape.

Except from the cook.

“Arry? Gendry?” Hot Pie says, abandoning his soup to come out and embrace the both of them. He’s somehow gotten both taller and rounder since the last time they’ve seen him, and Arya watches as Gendry’s face pinches and winces at the touch.

Sickness slides into Arya’s gut like an oil slick when she recognizes where they are.

“Sit, come on,” Hot Pie insists, “It’s been what, nearly two years? WIllow, bring us some bread and ale.”

“No,” Arya says firmly, and Gendry agrees.

“We won’t be staying.”

“What, why not?” Hot Pie asks, confused.

“Because this was the inn where those Brotherhood fucks brought us, and if they find us again, we’re fucked,” Gendry explains.

There’s a harsh laugh from behind them, coming from a woman who looks like Willow, but older.

“As if those fucks would come back here, now that winter’s coming. Bridge out over the hill stopping most of our business. Used to come by all the time they did, buying our ale and brings us more orphans to protect, but where are they now that they need food?”

“That’s Jeyne,” Hot Pie explains. “Masha Heddle died a bit back. She runs this place now. And she’s right, the men of the Brotherhood don’t come here anymore.”

“They probably stay near Acorn Hall now that the bridge is out,” Willow interjects, “There’s always whores over that side.”

Hot Pie’s voice quiets a bit before his next comment.

“There’s stories come from a couple of the younger boys about the lot of them now...but we don’t know for sure. It’s been moons since we seen any of them.”

The food they are served is more than adequate at least. Throughout supper, a group of young children make their way into the walls, soaking wet. Most of them are thin, but obviously not starved. One of the older girls, maybe Arya’s age, but looking far more Sansa, hands a bag of flour to Hot Pie.

“Miller says use it slow. With winter on the way, the wheel won’t turn if the river freezes.”

A couple of the children approach Arya and Gendry throughout the meal, most out of curiosity, some of suspicion. They answer questions in vagaries. Some of the younger children try to touch Gendry affectionately, as Arya once had. He still scoots away.

One of the older girls tries to touch him a little less innocently. She’s the one that sort of looks like Sansa, like she’s used to boys acting a certain way around her. Gendry jerks so violently at her touch and her coquettish voice that he falls off the end of the bench, and quickly excuses himself.

“Are you and him, like,” The girl, her name is Elinor, later asks Arya when they’re alone, “Or is he one of those men who just doesn’t like girls?”

Arya sighs. Once she would have felt a glimmer of pride to be considered on the same level as the Gendry, that ordinary people might think they went together.

“No. Someone’s hurt him.”

The room they are given is the size of a pantry, but the roof doesn’t leak, and if the door only sticks instead of closing, that’s fine enough too.

Tossing the bag of their meager possessions at the foot of the narrow bed, Arya mentions.

“One of the older girls asked me if I was yours.”

Gendry’s expression is gruff.

“Should have said you were my sister again.”

Arya sighs and sits beside him.

“That isn’t going to work anymore, we’re too old and we don’t look anything alike. I don’t think it will be an issue here. This place is full of orphans, we’re just two more.”

Arya swallows the sob that surges up in her throat at her own words. She’s an orphan now.

Gendry nods.

“Hot Pie says we can probably stay as long as we’re willing to work. If we hear anything from the Brotherhood, we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

They’re both silent. Neither of them are ready to sleep yet, it’s too early and they’re too warm and too full. And there’s too much between them.

“What did the Red Woman do to you?” Arya finally asks.

Gendry turns away.

“I already told you, she wanted my blood-”

Arya cuts him off.

“No. I asked what she wanted you for before. I want to know what she did to you to get it.”

Gendry stares at the floor, but eventually begins to talk.

“On the way to Dragonstone, she asked me if I knew who my father was. She insists it was the former king.”

Arya pauses before commenting.

“You do look like him, in a way Joffrey and Tommen certainly don’t.”

That’s not to say she sees a bit of fat, drunken, lecherous Robert Baratheon in his though.

Gendry nods.

“When we got there, she sent me to my rooms, and then came up alone. Started telling me all kinds of big words, things about king’s blood, and how important I could be. And then she started taking off her clothes, and mine too...at that point, I would have done anything she said, I couldn’t think. I barely remember any of it, until the point I realized I was chained down and couldn’t move, and then Stannis was there, and she was dropping leeches on my cock, and there was fire and chanting...I cried and screamed, and no one cared. Then they left me alone in a cell for days. Davos let me out when he realized they intended to sacrifice me to their Red God.”

Arya watches his face. There’s shame there, shame and fear and violation. In his face, she sees ghosts. Ghosts of the girls Lannister soldiers would drag into bushes along the road. She feels the ghost of the man by the road, and his ale soaked breath.

“I’ll kill her,” she says, even and low. “She promised we would meet again. When we do I’ll split her down the middle and let her entrails spill out on the road.”

Gendry’s avoiding her eye.

“If all she needed was your blood, there’s a thousand ways she could have done that. She didn’t need to…”

Gendry’s eyes are squeezed shut now.

“I fall asleep and she pops up in my dreams. When people touch me, I remember her touching me. Fuck, whenever I see a pretty girl, I remember her and suddenly I’m disgusted at myself and want to retch.”

Arya shifts, moving so that she’s kneeling on the end of the bed between Gendry’s knees. She looks him in the eye.

“I’m going to hug you. But first, open your eyes.”

He obeys.

“This is just me. We’re not in Dragonstone, we’re in the Riverlands, at the Inn. Both of us have our clothes on. I’m not the red woman. I’m not that tall, I don’t have red hair, I don’t use big words when little ones will do. And lets be real, my tits are tiny.”

Gendry’s laugh is rough.

“I’m going to hug you, and that’s it. I think we both need it. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

Gendry waits, his eyes trailing shut. But then, there’s a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.  

Her arms fit more easily around him, than they ever did before, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. After a long moment, she feels his arms come up around her too. Before Hot Pie today, she can’t remember the last time anyone hugged her.

“You were right,” he admits, “We did both need this.”

He doesn’t let go.

“Don’t talk about killing her anymore though. I don’t like knowing you had so many demons that needed killin’ even before you took mine upon you..”

Arya sighs, breathing in the scent of his neck.

“Alright, I won’t talk about it. I will do it though, I have to. She tried to take you away from me and nearly succeeded. They’ve already taken my family, they won’t get the rest of my pack.”

Eventually they part. They sleep back to back that night, still not touching, but Arya hears Gendry’s breathing much more evenly than on the road. She waits to recite her list until she’s sure he’s asleep.

And outside the window, she swears she hears a wolf howl.

[boat-dock]

chapter 4 of my Hosie fic

a little angst, a little tension, and a lot of Hope worrying 

Hope was standing on the far side of the room so there was a bed between her and the twins. As much as she wanted to be alone right now she needed to know that they were ok after everything that happened. 

Josie’s eyes light up when she saw Hope and she opened her mouth to speak but Hope beat her to it,” are you ok?” trying to stop her voice from shaking. 

“Are we ok?” Lizzie gaped,” what about you Hope you actually died,” they both moved toward but she backed away. She couldn’t trust herself not around them, not around anyone. It would get better with time, she would learn control, but right now she was an unstable baby vamp. Caroline had called her family and they would be here tomorrow night to bring her home, just for a little while, till she got used to her new situation. It had been far too long since she’s seen her family or just been back to New Orleans, so maybe this would be for the best. She would miss her friends and this school but she’d come back. 

“Of course I’m ok.  We all knew this was coming,” she replied motioning to herself to emphasize her point. Her becoming a vampire was inevitable it was literally in her blood. “ I mean it’s strange and different but I’ll get used to it.” 

“Of course you’ll get used to it,” Josie stated,” but that’s not what we asked. We asked if you’re ok now.” Hope couldn’t help the small grin that appeared on her face. It was nice to have friends who cared enough to check on her even when she pushed them away. She’s been trying to work on the pushing people away thing but change is never easy. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it but I willing to listen if you guys need to talk about anything.” 

“We don’t really want to talk either,” Lizzie answered,” which is why we have barricaded ourselves in your room because no one in their right mind would bust down your door to get to us tonight.” she wasn’t wrong, everyone had left pretty quickly as soon as Hope told them too. People were always afraid to come into her room, Hope was used to that, what she wasn’t used to was people using it as a sanctuary. 

Hope walked swiftly to her dresser and pulled out two pairs of pajamas,” you’re always welcome here,” she said as she tossed them to the twins. Hope turned her back as they changed, doing her best to give them privacy. 

When they were dressed Hope noticed the cut on Lizzie’s head,” Hey Liz, that cut on your head do you want me to heal it?” she’s seen her aunt Freya use a simple healing spell for things just like this before. 

“ Thanks but no thanks, I’m steering clear of vampire blood at the moment.” 

“ No blood,” Hope says,” just a spell. At that, Lizzie nodded her head and Hope moved in to do the spell. It should have been a basic spell, one she’d been doing since she was 10, not that it was taught at school, but then the blood hit her. It was barely there and dried but the smell still caused Hope’s fangs to slide out. She stumbled back as she felt the veins crawling down her face. “ Never mind,” was all she could choke out, hoping the twins wouldn’t notice. 

Of course, they did.” Are you alright?” Josie asked in a soft voice, pushing her dark hair out of her face. 

Before she could respond Lizzie cut in,” this could be good practice. Come try again Hope this time focus on the magic, not the blood,”  she was right, Hope could do this, it was a simple spell and her magic was begging to be used right now. She placed her hand on Lizzie’s forehead over the gash. Focus on the Magic, not the blood she repeated to herself. With the amount of magic Hope has, magic always came easy, most of the time she didn’t even need to speak, she could just will the magic to do what she needed. That’s what she was doing now, she pushed her magic out with a low hum in the back of her throat and focused on the magic flowing out of her. 

“Wow,” Lizzie breathed, examining her newly healed head in the mirror,” you have to teach me that.” 

Hope put distance between herself and the twins, by moving to her window seat on the other side of the room. “ you guys take the bed I’ll sleep over here.”

 “What no, we aren’t kicking you out of your bed,” Josie said shocked that Hope would even suggest that, “ it’s not like we haven’t all shared a bed before.”

“Yes but as you saw earlier I don’t have the best control right now.” Hope tried to keep her voice light, so they could move on from all this. Josie wasn’t thinking the same thing. She was next to Hope on the window seat in seconds,” Hope you have more self-control than anyone I know. With the amount of power that you have the fact that you don’t lose it every single day is amazing. That being said,” Josie rolled up her sleeve and held out her wrist to Hope,” drink,”

 “No way,” Hope said leaning away from Josie,” no way, am I feeding on you. Your parents would kill me.” 

“My parents will never know and I trust you, Hope.” she gulped as Josie held her eyes, once again pushing her exposed wrist toward her.

“And if anything goes wrong,” Lizzie started.

“Which it won’t,” Josie interrupted.“

Of course it won’t, but if it does I’ll be right here to stop it.” this was not happening, this could not happen. “It’s practice Hope just like the spell, once you know you’re in control you’ll be able to relax,” 

Hope’s eyes were wide with fear as her fangs slipped out. This was a bad idea, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from biting Josie’s wrist. All thoughts left her mind and all she could think about was the blood. The hunger was overwhelming and unending, there was no way anything in the world could be this good. Hope was bordering on euphoria.

 Josie’s words cut through her trance,” that’s enough Hope,” she dug her teeth in deeper, ” Hope,” she ground out

. Hope pulled back and sucked in a deep breath to settle herself, Josie pulled her hand away and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. When Hope’s breathing returned to normal and her eyes looked human again Josie placed her hand on her shoulder,” Good job Hope, I knew you could do it,” they locked eyes again for a moment and all Hope could here was Josie’s heartbeat.

 “Can we go to bed now, it’s been a crazy few months and I’m beat.” against her better judgment Hope ended up sandwiched between the twins trying and failing to get some sleep. Lizzie was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, Hope could tell by her breathing. Josie, however, laid away and silent for about half an hour. 

“Hope,” she whispered in the dark,” you awake?” she shifted so she was facing Hope.“

Yeah, can’t sleep?” she asked trying to keep her voice low so she didn’t wake up Lizzie.

“no,” was all Josie answered. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Lizzie answered that question earlier, Hope realized, not Josie. Guilt pooled in Hope’s stomach as she realized just how easily she’d overlooked what Josie needed. She couldn’t do that again.

Josie was quiet for a moment and Hope almost that she fell asleep. She leaned in closer to Hope,” it’s just all so messed up,” she muttered laying her head on Hope’s shoulder,” between the prison world, Kai, and you- you died Hope right in front of me,” Josie sniffled and Hope’s heart broke in two. She hadn’t meant to worry Josie, everything she’d done was to keep her safe.

Hope linked their hands together,” I’m here Jo and I will never happen again literally.” her attempt at humor didn’t hit his mark, so she squeezed her hand hard.” I don’t know if your mom told you this Jo, but your parents called my family,” Hope paused unsure of how to tell the brunette that she was leaving,” they’re sending me home.” 

“No- no they can’t do that,” Josie stuttered. Even in the dark Hope could see the panicked look on Josie’s face. 

“It’s just till I adjust, “ Hope tried,” they think it’s what’s for the best.” 

“When do you leave,” 

“They should be here tomorrow night to pick me up.” Josie didn’t answer, instead, she dug her face into Hope’s neck, it was wet with tears. “ hey stop don’t cry,” Hope said as she pulled Josie’s face-up and wiped the tears away with her thumb. 

“You’re going to come back aren’t you?” Josie asked locking eyes with Hope.

“Of course, I’ve always come back haven’t I?” Hope wasn’t expecting an answer and Josie didn’t provide one, all she did was smile. That smile warmed Hope like a ray of sunshine.

They stayed like that for a moment just enjoying each other’s presence, Hope didn’t think she could ever get tired of looking at Josie. When Josie broke the silence it was with a complete change of subject that threw Hope for a loop,” what’s going to happen when your family gets here,” she inquired,” are they going to kill uncle Matt for what he did to you?” 

It would be a lie to say that Hope wasn’t worrying about the same thing, “not if I can help it and don’t worry I’ve got a plan.” she replied,” but that plan starts with us getting some sleep.” If only it were that easy, even when Hope closed her eyes, Josie never did. She stared unabashedly at Hope for what felt like an eternity before Hope spoke up,” what is it Jo?” she asked her annoyance giving way to laughter.

“You had a crush on me.” Josie snickered. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Lizzie told you,” Hope groaned, turning her face away. She was honestly surprised Lizzie hadn’t told her twin before, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for the conversation that was going to follow.

“Can I ask why?” 

Hope blinked against the darkness for a moment waiting for the right words to come, but they didn’t, not her own words anyway someone else’s,” who wouldn’t.” a grin spread across both their faces,” now get some sleep, I’m serious.” 

They both did eventually and actually slept rather peacefully. She woke up to the sound of her bedroom door slamming with a loud bang, Josie did too, they both jumped awake and frantically looked for the what caused the sound. All they found was a note left on Lizzie’s side of the bed which was surprisingly empty. Hope read the note aloud,” gone to make amend with mom, left breakfast on the table - heart Lizzie.” She was glad Lizzie had gone to talk to Caroline, but the rest of it didn’t make sense,” wait Lizzie can’t cook.”

“And she didn’t,” Josie answered reaching to the bedside table and grabbing a tray.” pop-tarts and chocolate milk. Oh and a blood bag.” 

Hope laughed slightly, at least she was making an effort,” well I’m not one to pass up breakfast in bed.” they sat and ate together, simply enjoying each other’s company. Hope figured this would be the last peaceful moment she’d have for a while, as soon as she steps outside this room, all eyes will be on her. Hope finished the pop-tart rather quickly and moved on to the blood. 

She ripped it open and started drinking without even thinking. She nearly choked on the blood,” oh god that’s vile,” she groaned,” animal blood.” 

“Not as good as the real thing?” Josie asked sipping her chocolate milk.

“Not even close,” Hope answered before deciding that she needed to drink the rest despite the taste. If she was going to continue going to school here she’d have to get used to it.

“Did I taste good?” that was a very loaded question. Hope’s eyebrows shot up but she quickly composed herself and put on a classic Mikaelson smirk.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” the question threw her but most things about Josie did that these days. 

Hope had no idea when they’d gotten this close to each other.” I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want an answer.” Josie retaliated with a smirk of her own and Hope’s heart skipped a beat. 

“What do you want me to say, Josie, that’s it’s all I can think about. “ Hope’s traveled to Josie’s lips then to her neck. She could feel Josie’s breath before she pulled away breaking the tension between them. 

She was off the bed and to the door before Josie even knew what was happening, ” come on Jo I told you I had plans today, wanna help?” 

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XIII

December 28, 2277.

“Wait. Enclave? What the hell is an enclave?” Butch asks, brows furrowing.

“In this context, they’re the other group of power-armored assholes running the other radio station with patriotic music, and fancies themselves as the United States of America, though I think they really are what remained of the USA. They’re also the bitches responsible for my dad’s death, so there’s that,” Percy tells him.

“Holy shit,” DeLoria murmurs, throwing back another shot. “Hey hey wait, how do you know that? I didn’t pay much attention to history class but I don’t remember Mr. Brotch mentioning anything about the American government going all psycho with power armor.”

Percy pauses, brow wrinkling. “Dad mentioned something when I was younger, about how some of the history books we study as kids didn’t paint the entire picture, and when we were reunited in the wasteland, at some point when one of his scientists switched to the Enclave radio during dinner, he asked her to turn it off. Said it was run by fascists that came from a failed pre-war government.”

“But how does your old man know about that when the vault was sealed- oh. Oh right. The Overseer lied to us.” Butch finally gets it. “Damn.”

“Yeah, and look at where that got us. I always suspected that things weren’t always what it seemed. Plus, the truth slips out of Old Lady Palmer’s mouth whenever she mentions dad “arriving” in the vault. My doubts were confirmed when I looked through Almodovar’s terminal, before I opened the door. There were scouting reports. Pictures of giant ants.”

The bartender serves Percy another shot and she gulps it down before resuming her story. The number of cigarettes in DeLoria’s box is dwindling, and so did mine.

“Then when I got to Megaton, some of the locals knew about the brainwashing stuff, and all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. Finding out that dad was parroting the Overseer’s propaganda hurt. The worst part is? I haven’t forgiven him before he died.”

“I um… I’m sorry, Perce.”

My friend shrugs at DeLoria. “It is what it is. I miss him already. He’d know what to do. I wish I didn’t argue with him before those assholes...”

A sniff resounded in the mostly empty bar. Soft cries escaped Percy’s lips, tears streaming down her red face. I wanted to offer an arm, a hand, anything , but DeLoria already wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Right. Great. That’s probably for the better. Sticking my non-existent nose in her business is becoming a dangerous habit.

Last night was probably a mistake.

“Okay, I think you had enough alcohol for the night,” the barkeep announces, and takes the scotch away. “The two of you, make sure she sleeps it off.”

“Hey Butch, you said you were gonna start a new gang, right? May I suggest ‘Our Dads Got Fucking Killed by Fascists’ for the name? We three could be the first members,” Percy slurred in between sobs. How she can find humor in the situation is beyond me.

“Yeah, she’s wasted alright,” Butch mumbles. “Hey, um, I don’t exactly have caps on me yet. Is Perce gonna pay the tab?”

I scoffed, fishing around Percy’s pack to pay off our bill. After tossing a few caps to the old lady, I helped Percy to her feet, and so did DeLoria. It was a struggle. I am a few inches shy of seven feet, DeLoria’s around six, and Percy is just a little taller than five. DeLoria looks at me with a weary smile. The two of us did the best we can to ensure this small girl doesn’t land face-first into the ship’s metal flooring. Us both being inebriated and Dogmeat bumping into us every three seconds did not help. I heard a patron that frequents the bar snicker at the sight of us, a girl about Percy’s age with the shittiest pigtails I’ve ever seen. On a human, anyway.

“Y’know what? Just carry her,” said Butch, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t working. I need to get some shuteye for my first day as a barber tomorrow too. See you two around.”

“Goodnight, Butch,” Percy slurs, half of her ass leaning on a nearby table for support.

I nodded at the greaser and he left the premises, the confidence in his gait replaced with drunk swaying and awkwardness. Gathering our gear, I carried Percy’s pack and weapons on my back, then I swept her off her feet in a bridal carry.

She’s gotten lighter.

“Hey, big guy,” slurs Percy, hiccuping. “You do know that I am -hic- perfectly capable of walking, right?”

“The last time you said that, you almost fell off the boat.” I started heading towards the exit.

My friend sighs, shaking her head in resignation. “I might as well enjoy riding you then.”

I froze in my spot. The girl with the shitty hair snorted her drink and outright laughed at us. I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at Percy but I know that she’s even redder now, and she felt a few degrees warmer in my arms.

She stammers, slightly flailing. “I mean, I might as well enjoy you- the ride! I might as well enjoy the ride! Dammit!”

“Sleep it off, Percy.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” the bartender barked at us. “Get the fuck out of my bar and go hump each other someplace else. I’m closing shop.”

We left in a hurry.

Percy was breathing softly, seemingly asleep when we arrived in the Weatherly Hotel, the only clean place to sleep on the boat, where we were greeted by the owner and a Mr. Handy. Beside her, the boy we rescued and brought from Grayditch stands up and runs to us.

“Hey! You two came to visit! Whoa, what happened to her? Is she hurt?” the boy exclaims.

“She’s fine, just tired. We need a room.”

“Hi, Bryan,” Percy slurs. She wasn’t asleep after all. “Shouldn’t you be asleep already?”

The owner smiles. “She’s right, Bryan. Off to bed.”

“Aw. Aunt Vera, I wanna hang out with Percy and Charon more.”

“You can do that tomorrow when Percy is feeling better,” Vera replies, and she nods to us. She had the room unlocked and I stepped in, placing Percy on the bed, and I dumped our gear on the floor. I locked the door behind us afterwards.

While I made sure nothing was out of place, Percy was sloshing water in her mouth, which she spat in a bucket. Staying clean even when she cannot take a full bath are some of her habits and rituals that I got used to. They’re probably good ones. She’s not resistant to disease like I am.

I turned to check on Percy. She had stripped down to her underwear, glasses haphazardly tossed to the bed.

The alcohol in my system is impairing my judgment. I should be turning around and should not be watching Percy tend to herself, but I just watched her. Life in the wasteland claimed some of her softness, and she had a few scars here and there, but she’s still attractive. Her legs are toned from all the walking we do, and her shoulders slightly are wider than her hips. When she turns around though, her behind is… something else.

Wait.

I’m looking at her bare ass.

I need to turn around. I need to turn around, but my body isn’t letting me. I can feel myself tenting at the crotch of my pants. This isn’t good.

When she turned to me, naked, swaying, and smiling, I thought I was in another dream, but I felt her warm breath and I know I’m awake. Things are happening too fast. My eyes dared to meet hers, then it trails below, to her small erect nipples, wet and shiny from her half-bath, and the dark patch of fuzz between her legs.

Damn it. I wanted to claim her. Act on the fantasies I have about her on nights that my body was too warm for my own liking. Put those nipples in my mouth. Bury my face between her legs. Pin her against the bed and make sure the entire boat hears her cry out my name.

“Big guy. Come to bed with me?”

But I hear the slur in her speech, and it took all of my willpower to shake my head.

“No. Percy. You’re drunk,” I say to her firmly.

“And?”

“I don’t want you to do things you’ll regret later, and I do not want to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

“Wait, who said anything about- I just want to sleep next to you again, Charon.”

“Naked?”

Mouth open and brows furrowed, she looks at herself, and curses. “I am- oh no, I am so sorry, holy shit,” Percy apologizes. “Fuck. Fuck! Stupid ass drunk idiot! I’m never drinking again,” she says to herself.

“Keep your voice down. I’ll go look for something you can wear.”

“Dammit, Charon I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to harass you like this, oh my God-”

“I do not feel harassed, but I appreciate the apology. Now, refrain from making any more noise,” I tell her, and I reach into her pack. A flimsy red nightgown was the last thing I expected.

“Percy, is this fine? This will not protect you from the cold much.”

She looks at me, then at the thing, and snatches it from my hand. “Yes! Um, thank you Charon. I found it when we were looting and-”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Percy. Get dressed.”

She nods, turning around and dressing herself, then she clears her throat. “All clear. Your turn.”

I cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for sleeping, Percy’s back in sight, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. When I finished changing, I got in bed.

We lay on the bed next to each other, but she seems so far away.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Charon. I don’t want you to think that I’m like some of your former employers who, uh, used you for your body.”

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“That’s a relief. You’re important to me.”

I look at her, and she’s facing me now, eyes soft and filled with a feeling I cannot describe. “Thank you. You are important to me too.”

Burying her face in my chest, she wraps an arm around my waist. I pulled the covers over us, and I held her.

“Night. Love you.”

February 7, 2278.

Two days after DeLoria’s first visit, he came over again. He brought with him a few of Percy’s belongings from Megaton, including Dogmeat’s teddy bear. The mistress entrusted a copy of the house key to the greaser, much to my dismay, but the dog has been restless without Mr. Bubbles and having it back gave me some relief.

It smells more like dog slobber now than it did Percy, but Dogmeat is still comforted by it. He misses her. I miss her too.

Dr. Li said she is getting better, but she’s still cautious. The doctor told me to not have too much hope; she had seen patients seemingly recover only for them to crash after a few days. It scares me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my life if Percy dies.

Dammit, I don’t want to think about that. She is going to live. Percy is a tough gal.

At this point, only Dr. Li, the greaser, and I are allowed in Percy’s room. She caught one of the scribes she entrusted attempting to extract blood from my partner without her authorization. I know something’s up, but the doctor isn’t budging. What is she hiding from the Brotherhood about my partner?

One of these days, I might need to confront her.

Smoking isn’t allowed in Percy’s room, so DeLoria and I just chewed bubblegum in silence while I maintained our equipment. I sorted out Percy’s change of clothes, came across that flimsy red sleepwear, and tucked it under her other belongings, what’s left of my skin burning hot. I’m doing my best not to let my mind wander to that night. Butch is fiddling with his Pip-Boy, identical to the one my partner owns, and I sigh in relief in knowing that he didn’t see me touch that thing. He already has several wrong ideas.

While I was hastily putting it away, a slip of paper fell.

It turned out to be a photograph. She found a camera when we stormed Paradise Falls, to save some kids. I remember the look on her face when Little Lamplight’s brat of a mayor told them that slavers took their friends.  We ended up opening the slave pens and trashing the place. Percy and I told them to find Hannibal Hamlin in the Washington Monument. Meeting Hamlin was one of my nicer memories from the past few months.

I’d do anything to see the determined gleam in her eye again.

I look at the photograph. It’s of me and the dog. Why would Percy keep something like this?

In the photo, I am asleep, taking a nap on the couch, and the dog was laying on my chest, looking at my partner behind the camera. I flipped it over, and there was some writing on it. Months of being taught by Percy paid off. She taught an old dog new tricks: I learned how to read.

“1-13-2278. Charon and Dogmeat.” This was two days after we got rid of my contract.  “The two loves of my life, after scotch,” she wrote under that. There’s a hollow heart drawn next to it.

I snort at the caption, knowing Percy’s sense of humor. Calling me Mr. Dreamboat, joking that I am her boyfriend… hell, she managed to freak out a few of the bigots in Tenpenny Tower with it once.

Now that I’ve thought about it… the playful nicknames, the touching, the concern, her putting me above herself, the trust she puts in me, the “love you” she mumbled while piss-wasted when I slept next to her in Rivet City; how did I miss all the signs?

Was I too taken in by the belief that smoothskins cannot harbor these feelings for ghouls? What did that damn kiss in the rotunda mean?

Does she even know the consequences of that kiss? If blondie wakes up and tattles to the Brotherhood about the Lone Wanderer kissing her ghoul bodyguard before running inside the chamber, it will ruin her. They might treat her even worse than before. My fears of people hurting her because of being associated with me gets worse as the days pass. There are so many things I want to ask her, so many things I want to talk about, but she’s still lying there, unconscious, under life support.

This can’t be the way things end.

Does she love me the way I love her?

I just want to know my place in her life.

[nicoletterogers]

an oath

trigger warnings: mentions of death, gun violence, survivors guilt, gun shot wounds

“Liam?”

Her own voice startled her as she called out into the familiar, empty apartment. everything was exactly the way she remembered it--piles of newspaper stacked messily on the chair by the door, jackets strewn over the couch waiting for nic to get tired of the mess and put them away. there even was the familiar smell of something cooking--for whatever reason, liam had gotten the culinary gene share for both himself and nic, and he put it to good use. it’s why family dinners were always at his place and nic was in charge of bringing the frozen garlic bread. or whatever bread side they were having. 

Tonight smelled like ziti though, which made sense why she held a long loaf of Great Value frozen garlic bread in her hand. she always preferred this version to the boxed texas toast--it felt more authentic she’d tell liam when he’d beg her for a box of that. he’d relent, always--because she was his little sister and that was the way the universe worked. at least in terms of garlic bread. 

Nic stepped cautiously into the kitchen, clutching the long loaf tighter than usual. Something didn’t feel...right, about this set up. Her eyes traced the kitchen, her detective senses triggered by the uncomfortable sensation in her chest. her vision swept the background before the began their inspection of the counters--knives, onions, san marzano tomato cans (liam only ever made fresh tomato sauce, he didn’t do the pre-made stuff). all normal, all nor--wait. her eyes caught the date on the clock in the corner and she dropped her garlic bread immediately. may 13, 2018. 

may 13, 2018. no, no it can’t be. she blinked. may 13, 2018, the clock still read and her heart stopped. 

“Liam!” she called, her voice more frantic. it felt familiar because it was familiar--it was the worst day of her life.  “Liam--Liam!” she tore through the apartment into his bedroom, where a completely confused Liam Rogers looked at her. 

“Nic? You good?” he asked, unlacing his shoes. Nic remembered that he specifically asked for sunday nights off, but since the station was working a particularly big case, he had to work earlier in the day to support. He stopped fiddling with his laces when he caught sight of her face. “Hey--hey, what’s going on?” god, she missed his voice. his voice alone almost sent her into tears. 

“I--” she couldn’t get words out. She couldn’t get anything out, because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and never let go. “You’re still here.” Nic breathed and threw herself onto him...only to have the scene disappear and she left holding herself in a dark alley. 

Her stomach tightened and she shook her head. No, no no no. She repeated. This was some kind of sick and twisted dream--why was she here? Voices began to surround her and she ran to hide behind some trashcans on the side. nic peaked her head through a small opening and listened to her coworkers start talking 

“Oh--oh my god.” Detective Peraltiago breathed. “Fuck.” They weren’t supposed to curse on the job, but she didn’t blame him--how could anyone blame him? He was standing over his former coworker and one of his closest friends over the station. “Captain!” He called gruffly, moving quickly to escape the emotions that threatened to overtake him. “Captain, I need you here now.” 

The tone of his voice must have signaled something was definitely not right and Nic had never seen Captain Gerhardt move so fast in his life. Silence followed as she watched the two men take in the scene. Finally, Captain Gerhardt spoke into his walkie. “We’ve got a 151(a1)--corner of Michigan and 51st. Detective Liam Rogers, unresponsive, two gunshot wounds in the chest, no witnesses or perpetrators.” His voice sounded hard, clinical--and Nic felt her entire body grow cold. 

She used to think hearing about what happened on the phone was the worst way to learn--but she had been wrong. Where she stood now, looking into the scene itself--that was worse. 

“Someone’s gonna need to call Nic.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait before we--” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you know how she--”

“Captain?”

Another long silence, before it was cut short by her cell phone ringing. The groups attention flew to the trashcans but before she could make out their shouting, the scene changed again, and she was sitting on a cold stone bench in the rain.

Nic was dressed in all black--but not her usual attire. for the first time in a long time, she was in a dress. a simple black dress, but a dress nonetheless. if liam was here, she thought, he’d laugh and ask her why she thought to dress up for him. But in all honestly, she didn’t have many words to say today at all. The funeral had ended hours ago, her coworkers had left in the big black cars, even her father had made his way to grieve separately. But Nic stayed. She’d stay until she was told to leave. No amount of rain could make her move--but this was not by choice. She had found she was stuck, unable to get herself to stand or do anything but stare at the headstone directly in front of her. 

Rest In Peace Liam Samuel Rogers. April 4, 1986 to May 13, 2018. Beloved Son, Brother, and Officer.

Her eyes constantly read the gravestone, taking in the words as if she had never read them before. The pain was still as fresh for this version of Nic than it was for the version that sat there on the actual day of the funeral. Tears dropped like bullets from a machine gun onto her folded up hands, adding to the rain that was drizzling heavily over her. 

“Why did you have to go so soon?” she screamed at the grave, her ability to control her emotions becoming obsolete. “I needed you! I needed you more than you could have ever imagined and you just left!” 

Silence. 

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. You promised me when you took this damn job you wouldn’t leave! We had plans, Liam. You were supposed to be the fun uncle, the one that taught my kids how to sneak cookies from the cookie jar and swear when I wasn’t looking! They were supposed to love you more than me and I was supposed to get into fights with you about it! Family dinners were going to get bigger, and you were gonna find someone to marry too--so then I could be the cool aunt and exact my revenge!” She wailed, dropping her face into her hands.

“You were supposed to be there the night he cheated, Liam. I was supposed to have you to comfort me. You were supposed to be in your apartment and I could go and eat ice cream and brood and not talk about anything and we could watch Jeopardy together. Or Who’s Line is it anyway. or whatever documentary you felt like you wanted to watch. And we’d sit in silence and i’d feel better. I’d be ok because I know you’d be here.

“But you left--you left with no goodbye, no warning. You walked out of that apartment and you never walked back in. I lost a piece of myself that day that I’ll never get back. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have never let you walk through that door, I should have never made you take out the trash. If I can’t protect you, Liam--who can I protect? I can’t protect you, I can’t protect Rowan, I can’t protect Gabe or Mig or Venice or Ruby or...anyone! Liam i couldn’t protect my brother, what makes me think I’m good for anything or any one!”

A strangled cry broke through her throat and Nic fell into the mud, her whole body wracked with sobs. Sobs she had been holding in for the last two years, over every imaginable piece of grief she could hold on too. her life had been one big cover up and now she could no longer cover it up. there was too much grief, too much sorrow, too much pain to hold onto any longer. 

so there she sad, full of mud, leaves and soaked by the rain that finally matched her inner turmoil. as the emotional tsunami passed, she lifted her glassy bright eyes to the headstone and sighed. 

“Liam, I--” another sob passed her lips. “I���m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

immediately, nic woke up with a gasp. she looked over at gabe, who seemed blissfuly unaware of her nighmare. good, she thought and slowly slipped out of the bed and onto the porch. tonight she’d sleep on the patio, among the gently swish of the wind and waves. perhaps then she might be able to be peaceful. or, perhaps, at least she could avoid waking her best friend up and ruining his sleep. if she couldn’t do anything else in her life right, at least she could do this. 

nic settles into a chair and takes a deep breathe. maybe she’d skip the sleep tonight--out here she couldn’t harm anyone else. at least for the next couple hours anyway.

( @malnatimedia​ )

[millie1536]

Lambs Blood

TW: Blood, Scars, Mentions of death

“Aunt Joey!” Izzy called out, running over to where Joan was sitting at her keyboard. “I was playing Haus of Holbein last night and Kitty timed me and I played it twice as fast as it is in the show and I didn’t mess up once!” Izzy recalled, bouncing with excitement, “Do you want to see? Can I show you now? Or maybe after the show? Yeah, after the show sounds-“ Izzy trailed off. The excitement seemed to fade from her eyes, replaced by worry. “Aunty Joan? Are you alright?” Izzy asked, a wave of guilt hitting her when she realised how oblivious she had been.

“I’m fine, Izzy.” Joan forced a smile, “Why don’t you show me how fast you can play the song?” Izzy just shook her head.

“No.” She said simply, sitting down on the ground beside her aunt, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just a little tired.” Joan tried to shrug it off but winced as the fabric of her shirt rubbed against her back.

“You’re lying.” Izzy told her. Joan couldn’t help but smile at how observant the girl could be. “Are they hurting?” Izzy asked quietly. Joan felt her stomach twist. She hadn’t told Izzy about her scars, had she?

“What do you mean?” Joan eventually responded.

“Your scars. Are they hurting?”

“What scars?” Joan knew that playing dumb wasn’t going to work but she was too frazzled to think of anything else.

“The ones you pick at all the time.” Joan felt her face burn with shame, Izzy must have noticed because she quickly added, “You know Anne picks at her scar too? Sometimes when it hurts she picks at it. She says it’d because then she’s in control of the pain. Kitty scratches hers in her sleep sometimes, but don’t tell them I told you that because I don’t think they want anyone to know.” Izzy fell silent but Joan could sense that she had more to say. After a few minutes she spoke again. “I pick mine too. It feels nice and it tickles when they bleed. Anne and Kitty don’t know, but Bessie caught me doing it once. She didn’t get mad at me though, she just asked me to go her when I feel like picking. Sometimes I do.” Izzy shrugged.

“Jane said the same thing to me.” Joan said quietly.

“It’s her day off today, I’m sure she’d like some company.”

“She’ll have you to keep her company,” Joan gave the girl a small, half smile, “besides, I’m working today.”

“I could play.” Izzy suggested.

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, I could.” Izzy stood up, folding her arms. “I know how to play all the songs and-“

“And what happens when it gets to Kitty’s song?” Joan’s voice was harsher than she had intended it to be. “What happens then? Are you just going to cover your ears and shut your eyes until it’s over?” Izzy took an involuntary step away from Joan when she stood up suddenly. “It’s not easy for her. It’s not easy for any of us but at least I get to hide behind my keyboard and Anne gets to hide behind jokes and Bessie’s able to get lost in the music and ignore everything else. Kathrine doesn’t get to hide, alright? All those people who talk about how impressive it is that she can cry on command? They don’t get it. They don’t get that this was real for us. We lived through this and we have to relive it every night. Do you really think Kitty wants you to see her like that? Do you think your sister wants you watching as she relives everything that happened back then?” Joan was breathing as if she had just run a marathon.

“N-no.” Izzy’s voice shook. As Joan’s breathing returned to normal and her anger began to clear she noticed the tears running down Izzy’s cheeks.

“Oh my god,” She murmured when she realised what she’d done, “Izzy, I’m so sorry. I-“ Joan took a step forward but froze when the girl flinched. “I’m sorry. I…” Joan sighed realising there was no excuse for snapping at the girl. “I’m sorry.” She said again before turning and walking backstage.

Joan didn’t stop walking. She didn’t stop when she came to the stage door or when she left the building. She didn’t stop when Bessie called out for her or when she felt the scar around her ankle finally break beneath the constant friction of her sock.

She didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom.

Joan collapsed onto her bed, screaming in pain and anger.

That’s it, She thought to herself, Now you’ve done it. Everyone already hates you and now Izzy’s afraid of you. Nice going.

“No. They don’t.” Joan cried out, her voice muffled by her pillow, “They promised they didn’t hate me. Jane promised she wouldn’t leave me this time.” Before Joan had a chance to talk herself out of it she picked up her phone and texted Jane. Usually she would have called but she didn’t trust herself to speak after what she had said at the theatre.

Joan sat there, watching her phone, waiting for a reply. The longer the waited the more convinced she was that Jane wasn’t coming. After ten minutes Joan threw her phone down beside her fell back against her bed.

She lay there, sobbing for what felt like years. She didn’t hear the front door opening or the two pairs of footsteps entering her room. She did however feel the mattress dip beside her.

“No. Please.” Joan whimpered, “I’m sorry. Please, Peter I-“

“Shh, Joan, sweetheart, it’s just me.” A gentle voice cut Joan off.

“J-Jane?” Joan whimpered, turning her head just enough to confirm who was sitting beside her.

“I’m right here, little lamb.” Jane reassured her, “Where does it hurt?” Joan just shook her head. “Joan, sweetie, I can’t help if you don’t tell me where it hurts.” Jane made sure to keep her voice as calm as possible, the last thing Joan needed was to think Jane was mad at her.

“All of them.” Joan’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Alright,” Jane nodded before turning her head slightly, “Go get a bowl of cold water and a soft cloth.” Jane instructed the person behind her. Joan couldn’t see who it was and she was in too much pain to care. “It’s going to be alright. Do you think the cold water will help them? Or would you rather me not touch them today?”

“Water.” Joan sniffled as she moved her head to rest on Jane’s knees. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, you have nothing to apologise for. How many times have you helped me when I get phantom pains?” Jane asked, gently smoothing out Joan’s hair, “Let me help you, please.” Joan nodded, her eyes falling closed. A few moments later she heard a bowl being set down on the bedside table.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” a voice said quietly, “I don’t want to crowd her.”

“Thank you.” Jane replied. Joan was too exhausted to even consider trying to work out who the other voice belonged to. “Joan, love, would you like to rest for a bit or are they burning?”

“Burning.” Joan found that one word was about all she could manage to get out and was relieved that Jane was asking closed questions, something the woman rarely did.

“Alright, are your clothes rubbing against them? The door’s shut and no one’s going to be coming in.”

“Off.” Joan winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. With Jane’s help Joan removed the clothes that had been aggravating the already painful scars.

“Oh sweetheart.” Jane murmured, wrapping a soft blanket she had gotten Joan for times like these. Angry red scars crisscrossed Joan’s skin. A few had broken and were bleeding. “I’m going to start with your ankle, alright? Would you like to lie back down?” Joan nodded, slowly laying back against her pillow. Joan’s ankle seemed to be causing the girl a considerable amount of pain on it’s own. The scar left behind by an abandoned bear trap, dripped blood down her foot and onto the bedsheets.

Joan cried out in pain as the damp cloth was pressed against the wound. The water dripping from the cloth quickly turned red. After a few minutes Jane was able to stop the bleeding.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Jane did her best to comfort the girl as she wrapped a bandage around her ankle.

“Please, Jane.” Joan lifted her head slightly to meet Jane’s eyes.

“Of course,” Jane moved quickly to sit beside Joan who wasted no time in crawling into Jane’s lap, “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” Jane ran her fingers through Joan’s hair, noting how she seemed to relax at the touch. She wasn’t sure when Joan had fallen asleep but Jane felt herself relax a little as Joan’s breathing evened out.

“Is she alright?” A small voice came from the doorway. Jane’s immediate instinct was to make sure that the blanket was completely covering Joan. She quickly adjusted it at the top so that only her head peeked out from beneath it. “Jane?”

“I’m sorry,” Jane whispered when she realised she had forgotten to answer the question, “Yes, she’ll be alright.” Jane opened one arm to the young girl in the doorway who just looked between the two women on the bed. “It’s okay, she didn’t mean to yell at you.” Slowly Izzy approached the bed. “She’s just under a lot of stress at the moment.”

“Because she’s the MD?” Izzy asked, keeping her voice at a whisper so as not to wake Joan.

“Yeah,” Jane nodded, “We couldn’t do the show without her.”

“Jane?” Izzy didn’t look up at Jane, instead watching the way her fingers continued to smooth out Joan’s hair. “What’s an MD? Everyone always says that Joan’s the MD but what does that mean?”

“Why don’t you ask her when she wakes up?” Jane suggested, “I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you about it.” Jane patted the bed beside her signalling for Izzy to sit down. “How about we all try and get a bit of rest, yeah?” Izzy nodded, climbing up beside Jane and curling up beneath her arm.

When Joan awoke she found herself wrapped in a blanket in Jane’s arms. She was about to sit up when she noticed the small figure that had latched onto her arm. Izzy lay curled up beside her holding onto Joan’s arm as if it were a teddy bear.

“She’s really sorry she upset you.” Jane spoke suddenly, Joan rested her head back against Jane’s chest.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Joan sighed, “She was just trying to help. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. I don’t know what came over me it was as if I just kind of exploded. I’m really sorry.”

“You’d been keeping that in for a while hadn’t you?” Joan nodded against Jane.

“I know you told me not to but I was being stupid and I thought I could handle it myself but…” Joan shut her eyes tight in an attempt to rid them of the tears that were threatening to spill out, “She was so frightened.” Joan bit her bottom lip when it began to quiver, “She was shaking and crying and she flinched when I stepped towards her.” Joan lost her battle against the tears and buried her face in Jane’s shirt. “She thought I was going to hit her.”

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s over now.” Jane held Joan close as she cried, “Look at her,” Jane gently moved Joan’s head so that she was looking at Izzy, “She’s worried about you. She’s not scared of you.”

“But she was, you didn’t see her.” Joan couldn’t seem to look away from Izzy, “Oh god. Anne and Bessie are going to kill me.” Jane felt Joan begin to tremble in her arms, “They’re going to kill me just like he did.” She whimpered, then with a humourless laugh she added, “All they need to do is cut along the lines.”

“Joey?” Joan froze, “Please don’t die. I won’t let them hurt you.” Izzy’s voice was scratchy with sleep and her eyes were still half closed.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Joan was quick to pull Izzy into her arms, “I thought you were asleep. I’m not going to die, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Izzy had her arms wrapped around Joan’s neck, “Are you alright?” She asked, looking Joan in the eye. Joan realised then just how worried Izzy had been about her, Izzy rarely made eye contact and when she did it never lasted long. This time Izzy sustained the eye contact.

“I’m alright.” Joan nodded, “I’m so sorry I snapped at you, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Izzy said as she rested her head against Joan’s shoulder, nuzzling into her.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Joan asked, her voice was serious and Izzy lifted her head once again, “No matter what happens I’ll never hurt you. Alright?”

“I know.” Izzy gave her a small smile, “I love you, Joey.” She said as she snuggled back against Joan.

“I love you, too.” The two of them lay there in comfortable silence, holding onto each other while Jane had her arms around them both.

“Joey?” Izzy sat up.

“Yeah?” Joan looked at the girl warmly.

“What’s an MD?”