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starry-eyes-love · 2 months

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Nursing

Masterlist

Pairings | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader, No Outbreak, AU, One-shot

Summary | Your six week old daughter, Isabell, is fussy and won’t settle down enough to nurse from you. Joel, being your soft and understanding husband (and an experienced father) soothes you and shows you how to relax. Who knew seeing Joel sing to Isabell, and whispering soft praises into your ear would help calm your fears at being a mom.

Word Count: 2.7 K

A/N: This is a super cute, soft, and fluffy story. This one has been living in my head for a long time because well, being a mom sometimes is super hard. And no one talks about the difficulties with feeding your little one. I just wanted a cute fluffy story with Joel being the best husband in the world. Enjoy :)

Warnings | soft!Joel, fluffy!Joel, fluffy story, descriptions of struggles with feeding (nursing), Joel reassures you and tells you how great of a mom you are, age gap (but no specific age stated), slight body description but nothing too specific (reader just had a baby 6 weeks prior), Joel sings a lullaby, original character reference (Isabell, your daughter), this is just super fluffy so enjoy!

“Oh, I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair. “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby.

You sat in the room that was washed with soft pastel colors, the warmth of the June sunrise gently creeping in through the half shaded window. It was early, the world not fully awake to start the day yet. You wished for a few more hours of sleep, something that you haven’t seen much of these past 6 weeks. You sat gently rocking back and forth in an old sewing rocker, one that was handed down through the generations of your family. The gentle creaks that it provided soothed you. It reminded you of the days when you were little, when you were the one that was fussy and needed to be gently rocked back and forth. Now, many years later and an adult woman, it was your turn to try to soothe the fussy child in your arms, Isabell, your daughter.

The tiny bundle of joy that you held in your arms was the reason for the lack of sleep that you and Joel had received these past six weeks. And right now, she was struggling to calm and soothe herself yet again. She was exceptionally fussy at the moment, struggling to nurse, and she was letting the entire world know how frustrated she was.

Sighing at your daughter you softly said, “You know little one, for someone so small you sure do fuss a lot. You’re just like your daddy, always fussing, aren't you?” With that statement your daughter opened her eyes and looked up at you, tears streaming down her little chubby cheeks. You gently touched her head, full of hair that was dark and curly, just like her father. She was a blessing, a hard blessing at that.

Joel and you had been married for eight years, trying to have a baby for the last six. You two didn’t think that it would happen, especially after all the tests were done. They couldn’t figure out what was causing your infertility issues. Then somehow by some miracle, Joel convinced you to go on vacation with just him for two weeks. It was everything that you two needed, a nice and calm relaxing vacation; one where you had conceived your daughter by the end.

Joel and you had gone back and forth over names for months after you found out you were pregnant. The two of you couldn’t decide on a girl's name. Every name that the two of you came up with just didn’t feel right. You didn’t want to know the sex of the baby ahead of time, you wanted it to be a surprise.

Joel was hell bent on wanting a boy, swearing up and down that you were pregnant with a boy. Then when your baby came out, after 18 hours of hard labor, you watched your husband absolutely melt at the news that he gave you a little girl. You’ve never seen your husband cry so much in his life, tears of joy as he held his little girl for the first time. When she was all dried off, he handed her to you while he kissed you gently on your head, saying that God fulfilled his promise to him. At the time you raised your eyebrows at your husband, as Joel wasn’t a religious man. But it was within that moment that the name Isabell came into existence. Isabell, name meaning God’s promise. Both of you felt like her name fit the entire situation perfectly. She was your miracle from above, one that you thought you two would never be able to have.

You were so lost in thought, remembering your daughter's birth as you continued to gently rock back and forth, not noticing Joel standing in the doorway. After a moment you heard him say, “I don't fuss darlin’. If anyone fusses, it's you baby.” He was leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and letting out yet another yawn. His curly hair was unruly and messy, looking like he just woke up. He had on black sweatpants with a gray T-shirt, with faded words of ‘Miller Construction’ on the front of it. It was the same shirt he had on when you first met, when he proposed to you, and when you conceived your daughter. Now instead of being new, it was worn but had a ton of memories associated with it. And it was your favorite shirt to steal to sleep in. It was then that you realized you weren't the only one not getting enough sleep recently, especially at the worn out look on your husband's face.

Your husband, the amazing and caring man that he was, helped you out as much as possible with tending to your daughter. He was an experienced father, two girls that he still cared for. Sarah, his oldest, was biologically his and now was 16. Ellie, who was his adopted daughter, was now 14.

In Joel's eyes, Ellie was just as much his daughter as Sarah was. Ellie's parents, his best friends, had died in a car accident when Ellie was 10. Joel had immediately taken her in, looking after her, and had requested to be her legal guardian. He was originally Ellie’s godfather, was present when she was born, and loved her like she was his own. A year after her parents had died, after all the adoption red tape was finally finished, Ellie Williams officially became Ellie Williams Miller, his daughter. It was Ellie's decision to take his last name on adoption day, still keeping her original last name with it.

“No Joel. I don't fuss, but you do, a lot.” You said, teasing your husband gently.

Being a new mother was hard, it wasn’t like the storybooks that you remember reading as a child. No story talked about the lack of sleep, the emotional ups and downs, the worry of not knowing what to do, and the anxiety of being home alone with a brand new baby that you didn’t know personally as your husband worked long hours. Intimacy wasn’t present at all for either of you, exhaustion being the biggest culprit.

‘No sex for six weeks’ the doctor had told you on discharge day from the hospital. At first you were upset at that order, but now, six weeks later, you have no idea how you would have had sex anyways.

Your body was a complete mess, bleeding for the majority of the past six weeks, something that was normal after delivery. Your hormones were chaotic, and you still looked pregnant as your womb slowly shrank back down to normal size. Sex was the furthest thing from your mind, and your husband’s too. But now by the end of the six weeks, you finally were settling into a routine. Life was 100% different, that was for sure, but you were finally finding comfort in it.

You were shook from your thoughts once again by the baby in your arms starting to cry, upset at the world about something. “Shhh, it’s okay honey” you said, picking her up and patting her gently on her back. After a few pats she immediately started screaming and crying loudly. Tears started to gather at your waterline, frustration at not being able to soothe her.

“Gimme her,” Joel said gently, stepping forward after seeing you get upset. You got up from the rocker willingly and handed him your daughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Aw now come on baby girl, what’s the matter?” he said, gently bouncing Isabell in his arms. It was in that moment that she let out a wail, telling her father, and the world, that she was upset.

Joel looked over at you and said, “Breathe mama, it’s okay” as he tended to his fussy daughter.

“I don’t get it Joel, I’ve tried everything. I keep thinking that she is hungry, but she won't nurse.” You said, crying right along with your daughter.

“Do ya have a fresh bottle for her darlin’?” he asked, rubbing gentle circles on his daughter's back, trying to soothe her as she continued to cry. You went to warm up a bottle of breast milk.

The first two weeks of feeding Isabell was hard, she wouldn’t always stay latched as you tried to nurse her. The doctor had told you to get a bottle that mirrored a human nipple, to try to get her to eat as she struggled eating in the first few weeks of life. You took her struggle personally, feeling like you were failing as her mother. But your doctor, and Joel, had both reassured you that this struggle was very common for babies in the first few weeks of life.

That’s why everyone said nursing was so difficult. Not only did it physically hurt to have her feed from you every three hours for the first six weeks of her life. But the hardest struggle was whether she would be able to stay latched on. For you, nursing was something that you wanted to do but this constant struggle was making it hard, and making you very upset. You just wanted to feed your baby, and not feel like a big fat failure as her mother. That was something the storybooks never seemed to mention. Oh the joys of motherhood.

As you handed Joel a bottle of warmed up breast milk, you watched him try to soothe his daughter. Joel was an experienced father, and always knew just what to say or do.

“Oh I know baby, I know.” Joel said, slowly soothing his daughter while sitting down in the rocking chair. “I know, the world’s so big and scary, and you’re just so little. It’s okay, daddy’s here honey, daddy’s here.” You watched Joel slowly quiet Isabell as he gently rocked her. He slowly hummed to her the same lullaby that he hummed to Sarah when she was a baby.

When he got Isabell to quiet down enough to feed her, he gently placed the bottle by her mouth, encouraging her to latch. She slowly accepted the nipple, quieting once she got some milk in her tummy. All you could hear now was the gentle creaks of the chair, and her gentle suckling noises as she was fed.

“There you go baby, just like that.” Joel said, rocking his daughter as he fed her from the bottle of your breast milk, gently singing the lullaby now outloud.

“Bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby, bye-o-baby bye. Daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, daddy still loves you, my bye-o-baby bye.”

As you sat there and watched your husband feed his daughter, you started to cry, but this time it was tears of joy. Joel was the most tender and loving man you had ever seen. So patient and understanding, and so soothing, not only to your baby girl but also to you. “Ya wanna try to nurse her again baby?” Joel said quietly, looking up at you sitting in the corner, arms hugging yourself.

“No you got her to eat and-”

“C’mon darlin’, let's see if she'll nurse again” he said, standing and gently walking down the hall to your shared bedroom. You quietly followed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teenagers in the room down the hall. You had no idea how those two girls could sleep through all of the wailing your daughter just did, but teenagers could sleep anywhere.

Once you got into your shared bedroom, Joel motioned towards your side of the bed and said, “Take off your top darlin’, and sit down. Don’t sit against the headboard though, I’ll give her to ya once you’re situated.”

You raised an eyebrow at Joel, wondering what he had planned for you, but you followed his instructions without question. You learned quickly with Joel that when he gave you parenting advice, especially with a newborn, that you should listen to him. He raised Sarah by himself, since she was a newborn as her mother had died a week after giving birth to his daughter. You didn’t know much of that story, something that Joel never wanted to talk about, so you didn’t press him. You couldn’t imagine being a young single dad, alone with his first daughter, trying to raise her by himself after he just lost his wife.

“Ok, I’m all set” you said, while looking over at Joel who was swaying side-to-side gently, holding Isabell.

“Ok little one,” he said, speaking to his daughter. “You need to eat from your mama, cause your mama is only trying to help you. I love feeding you baby girl, but mama needs to nurse you right now, ok? Daddy will stay right here though, so no fussin’.”

Joel slowly handed Isabell to you after taking the bottle out of her mouth. She immediately started to fuss. You tried to silence her by getting her to latch onto you right away, but once again, she wouldn’t latch on, so you couldn't nurse her. You were just about ready to give up when you felt your husband grab you by the waist and pull you backwards, situating you hard against his chest.

Joel had removed his shirt before he sat down behind you, his back was now against the headboard. He wrapped one of his arms around your side gently, holding Isabell’s head as he whispered in your ear. “Baby, ya gotta relax, you’re so tense. C’mon mama, breathe.” Joel was slowly kissing you on your neck and bare shoulder, attempting to get you to relax.

“You’re an amazing mom,” Joel said, whispering in your ear. “It’s okay to be scared, honey. Hell, I'm still scared, even with raising Sarah. But that’s normal with being a parent. But this honey, ya gotta relax and trust in your instincts. Isabell knows what she needs, baby. She knows how to nurse, she wants to nurse. But ya gotta relax so she can. She’s hungry mama, and she needs your milk. So give her what she needs.”

Joel was gently holding Isabell’s head at your nipple, trying to encourage her to latch. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. When you exhaled you tried forcing yourself to relax, to trust the guidance from your husband. As soon as you relaxed, you felt your daughter latch on where she finally started to nurse. When you opened your eyes, you looked down at her and saw her feeding from you. She had the most beautiful big eyes that you’ve ever seen. You sighed a content sigh, especially when you heard her make the cutest little suckling noises that she did.

“She looks just like you with those big eyes,” Joel said, holding you close to his chest and kissing you tenderly on the cheek. You were silently crying, emotions taking over you once again. You felt Joel wrap his arms around your waist and slowly massaged your belly, while gently brushing away the tears from your cheek.

“You carried her right here for nine months,” Joel said, laying his large palm over the lower part of your belly. “You gave me the best present in the world, another beautiful baby to love. So stop your fussin’, thinking that you’re not a good mom. Baby, your body has already done miracles. And I'm damn proud to be your husband, and the man that gave you her, our little miracle.”

You looked back at your husband, at the tenderness that he was giving you, lip quivering slightly. Joel leaned forward, gently kissing you on the mouth. You parted your lips and allowed his tongue to have access to your mouth. He gently massaged his tongue with yours; slow, delicate, and in no rush to advance it into something else. His kiss said everything to you, that he was proud of you as a mother, wife, and person. But most of all, this kiss told you that you were his true soulmate, and that he loved you unconditionally. When he pulled back, he gently wiped the tears from your eyes once again. He pecked your forehead before leaning back against the headboard and taking you with him.

You sat there, your bare back to his bare chest, breathing together in unison, as your daughter quietly nursed from you. You couldn’t believe that 12 years ago, a simple ‘hello, what can I get you’ in a coffee shop would lead to having a family with the man behind you. It’s been a long and hard road, but one that was worth it in the end.

End story

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

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transsexula · 10 days

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Hate seeing people say that Transandrophobia isn't real because, in their words, the "androphobia" isn't something people in real life face.

Now. Maybe this is because when I see this opinion, it's attached to someone who is either transfem, AMAB, or who has only ever lived in incredibly liberal areas.

Meaning: They do not have the life experience to speak on that.

It's simple, I can use myself as an easy example: I grew up on the west side of the US. My extended family and parents were very Christian, very conservative. The community I grew up in was in turn the same- very conservative, very Christian, very fundamentalist. Certain Disney movies were banned from the house for featuring witchcraft, or other "morally reprehensible" things. DISNEY MOVIES.

With this background, I'm sure you can tell where this was headed: I can clearly remember being in the pharmacy with my mother. I was small. I saw a lady with what I now know is a pixie cut- incredibly short hair, bright bold pink. Her girlfriend was there, and her own hair was incredibly butch- like they went to a sports clips and asked for what the guy next to them was getting. I was amazed- I'd never seen a woman that looked like that before. I voiced so with awe and wonder to my mother. I was supposed to get a haircut in an hour. "I want that! She looks so pretty and nice"

Who was visibly disgusted. Grabbing me, yanking me away, muttering "no. You don't want to look like that. Let's go."

Fast forward a few years. I'm too young to be drinking a beer, my uncle has stayed up late. We are watching music videos and sharing interests, when we see a rather masc looking woman in a video. He's disgusted. He makes an offhand joke about how she needs to be reminded of her feminine ways. I know what violations he's implying so vividly. He opens up about his fantasy of hatecriming two butch "women" he saw. I'm too afraid to speak.

There's a debate in church. Should women be allowed to wear above the knee shorts? We really didn't like that they can wear pants. Really, the pastor says in his sermon- it's the woman's job to maintain her feminine nature, in opposition to her husband's masculine nature. These blurring lines aren't good for people.

And- I don't want to get into the people I've known who've been hurt, abused, forcefully feminized, beaten for being masculine- the men that feel entitled to their bodies, because they feel entitled to a say in how they present.

The reason you don't see the abuse for being masculine, is because you come from a world where it's widely accepted in ways that not every culture, not every state or country has.

Gnc women, trans men, transmasc nonbinary people- if you're in the wrong place, born to the wrong family, you may never be safe enough to wear pants. You may not be able to cut your hair. Or be anything less than the perfect, ideal woman.

You get punished for not being what you have been assigned. For the act of defiance against others perception, you can be killed.

So, yeah. There's a lot of androphobia. There's a LOT of fear of the masculine. It just comes out in ways you aren't expecting, as someone who hasn't had to experience it. You don't know what to look for. Where to look. It's everywhere but you can be blind to it if you're insulated enough.

Hell- even terfs are falling into severe androphobia. It's their whole motto. What am I, if not a failed woman to them? Mutilating my perfect feminine form? Being a man is the ultimate crime to these people. Are you really telling me JKRs very public campaign hasn't made life hell for ALL of us? We are all losing healthcare due to this.

#transandrophobia #transphobia #AGAIN THIS ISNT TO START SHIT THIS IS TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS A THING #the reason i didnt attach this to a post about it is because of that specific reason #im tired of people acting like we are all just safe in big cities

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floridaboiler · 7 months

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source - https://twitter.com/CalltoActivism

I absolutely love this story…….. It made me cry.

"An 87 Year Old College Student Named Rose The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know.

I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned round to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.

She said, “Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?”

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, “Of course you may!” and she gave me a giant squeeze. “Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?” I asked.

She jokingly replied, “I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids…”

“No seriously,” I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

“I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!” she told me. After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.

We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months, we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this “time machine” as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us.

She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, “I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.”

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, “We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success.

1) You have to laugh and find humor every day.

2) You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.

We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!

3) There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.

If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old.

If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.

Anybody can grow older.

That doesn’t take any talent or ability.

The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change.

4) Have no regrets.

The elderly usually don’t have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.”

She concluded her speech by courageously singing “The Rose.

She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year’s end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.

When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they’ll really enjoy it!

These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.

REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL.

We make a Living by what we get,

#Deep Thoughts #Positive Vibes #Motivation

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charlottecutepie · 3 months

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☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf william afton #michael afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf x y/n

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looseduke · 1 year

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okay insane thought about names and the feelings i have about them as a transgender blended family kid. it requires a leap of logic where the fantasy high parent couples remain dating and get married or otherwise legally bind themselves together but follow me on this for a moment. also i don’t know or care if this follows canon im just deciding it does

gilear took sandra lynn’s last name

could not afford to change it after the divorce

gilear is just one of those ppl who really likes having the same last name as his life partners, doesn’t have to be his name, he just thinks it’s nice

(sandra lynn liked her name and though she has Many Issues and might have changed her name in an attempt at normalcy gilear’s name was definitely something outlandishly stupid and he suggested it first anyway so it worked out)

do u see where im going with this

gilear seacaster.

fabian is furious but this ain’t about him

something so funny about taking your (way funnier if they don’t even get married) girlfriend’s dead husband’s last name

he keeps faeth as a middle name bc it’s still a connection to fig that he values and wants to keep

anyway. jawbone hears about all of this. absolutely loves it. thinks it’s awesome

jawbone o’shaughnessy-faeth!

yes with the apostrophe and the hyphen. yes every time.

he likes the connection to gilear and fig as much as he does the one to sandra lynn <3

when consulted fig was SUPER enthusiastic about another dad. gilear was like sigh. that might as well happen. im already being dunked upon by my mean stepson. go ahead.

okay the grand finale. the reason i even made this fucking post

adaine kills her dad, gets adopted, and starts to wonder if she should change her name

adaine makes amends with her sister, and starts to wonder if she should keep it

jawbone lets her know right away that he’ll support her decision no matter what, but it takes a long time for her to decide

it takes watching gilear and fabian bicker over their shared last name, watching fig get sappy over gilear holding onto the name faeth, watching fig and jawbone get sappy over THEIR shared last name, watching sandra lynn hide a smile whenever it comes up, watching, watching, watching

watching her sister learn and grow and love her unconditionally

she makes her decision, and when her dad brings her home from the fantasy dmv, there’s a new name on her ID

adaine abernant-o’shaughnessy-faeth. yes all three names. yes with the apostrophe. yes with the hyphens. every time

it’s for her dad, yes, for the man who gave her a home, who helped her find her strength, who is always her safe space, but it’s for more then that too

it’s for her sister, who for better or worse is in all of her earliest memories. who never underestimated her. who’s trying, every day

it’s for her sister, who called her awesome on the first day of school. who’s always there for her. who wears her heart on her sleeve and teaches adaine it’s okay to be emotional. who’s her best friend

it’s for the man who took her in when he had next to nothing to offer, who shared his extra garlic knots and vending machine snacks, who hosted his daughters strange friends night after night without question or complaint

and it’s for the elven woman sitting across from her at the dinner table, who understands her greatest fear better then anyone else and has built a life for herself despite her mistakes. who protected her on their quest. who opened her house for about 6 teenagers to live there permanently and anywhere between 3 and 10 more to hang out as much as they want

adaine abernant-o’shaughnessy-faeth, the people’s oracle <3

#there is absolutely nothing wrong with being family and having different last names. or having the same last name and not being family #but personally #choosing my name and who got to be included was one of the most powerful things in the world and i want that for her <3 #dimension 20 #fantasy high #adaine abernant #also i personally am an o’[name]-[name]#and let me tell u. every computer hates you so much forever. but it’s okay

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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canon happiness series lore:

if simon ever dies, he would make price promise to be a father to his daughter and keep you happy.

ghost made price swear on the little cross he wears after his first meeting with mellie that price has to protect both his daughters and keep you happy.

price breaks his promise every day by keeping simon alive. he couldn’t die when he has two beautiful children waiting up all hours of the night for him, simon couldn’t die when he was all you had.

UNCANON LORE:

if simon did die, price would move in and immediately be at your side. he’d take care of the funeral, he’d take care of the girls, he’d sit with you when you needed to sit under the shower spray and cry.

it would be years later that the lines would get blurry, the girls older and their memories hazy of their real father - only winnie remembers simon. mellie only knows price as her dad, the one who walked her and her sister to and from school, the one who showed up to career day, the one cussing out the principal for not disciplining the boy who had hit winnie. mellie wouldn’t remember the days where she clung to her real father, crying whenever anyone dared to take her from him.

he would sleep in your bed. his arms around you and your back to his chest. you didn’t know that you subconsciously face away from him, because you always faced simon when he slept and now he’s dead. if you face away, you won’t feel the pain when price leaves too. price’s presence doesn’t replace simon’s, he just creates a new mold to fit into - being the loving father and doting husband that simon was. just now, he wears a silver wedding ring and you still wear the gold one from many years ago.

you would have a son. a little creature that simon was so scared to love, but john cradled that boy in the delivery room like the most precious thing in the world. john’s little boy murmured in that little blanket and all you could feel was simon’s fear. simon had rubbed off on you more than you thought. you loved your son, he looked beautiful but you were so scared that that little boy would become something that price could still be - lifeless, a bullet to a heart with only his best friend to comfort him as he went.

price would love him anyway. he loved you anyway. he had retired right after simon was killed, so taking care of all of the kids would be no hassle. even as little oliver got older, he was just like his sisters, which in turn meant he was just like simon. loving, caring, emotional. price took pride in the girls and his son. god might have taken away his best friend, but He gave price a chance to see simon again.

you told price once that you hoped you went before he did so you never had to live without him, and you did. peacefully, on a wednesday afternoon in your sleep. winter grace, melody ivy, and oliver simon were by your side, captain john price held your hand and told you that it was okay. your babies were grown, kids of their own; little kittens and big dogs to keep them company. that he would be okay, that simon was waiting for you.

he had passed two days later of a broken heart. the woman who gave him a family, even if you didn’t mean to, had given him the one thing he wanted in life and now you were gone. only melody was with him, helping him pick out photos that he wanted to use for your funeral. she had asked a question about simon when she found a photo of him and you, price couldn’t utter a word. her whole life she believed price was her father, you wouldn’t correct her as it would bring up too much pain. only winnie would talk about him. he told her what flowers you wanted, that he would like white tulips when he goes. melody only laughed, saying, “dad, you’re not goin’ for a while.” price made sure that melody knew you were to be buried next to lieutenant simon riley, that price’s grave stone be smaller than the lieutenant’s. he wanted to be buried next to you, and to make sure that you got your favorite flower every month and that the cross that you wore when you died be kept by winnie. he had promptly gone upstairs to take a nap and simply never woke up.

mellie kept his wishes. she, winnie, and oliver attended the joint funeral - burying them together next to their mother’s lover and their dad’s best friend. the two children named by simon riley and the one named after him stood over the gravestones, all three children grieving a different parent. captains mactavish and garrick, as well as colonel vargas and his husband former sergeant major parra would stand with them. the four soldiers left dimes on price’s grave. three soldiers left dimes on riley’s, but only one placed a quarter. captain mactavish.

those men would watch over the riley girls and the price boy, walk the girls down the aisle and hold oliver’s son when he was born. they would take care of any of their needs, did anything they asked.

the 141 was buried together, and when they joined their friends in the afterlife, everything was finally alright. your hand held onto simon’s, price’s hand on your shoulder. a little boy was on simon’s hip, one who looked exactly like him and you. the son you lost. and that little boy squealed at the arrival of every one of his uncles, a little boy that was full of happiness.

you had a good life.

———

yeah i just rambled for thirty fucking minutes. what did you expect from me. i’ve cried over this. now i want to write a price family fic because FUCK that’s why

also if you know the coin rule that we do in america, good on you.

also oliver’s name will make more sense in the lover chapter of happiness

#i’m sad and i needed the thoughts out of my head before i exploded #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #happiness series #captain price x reader #john price x wife!reader #john price x reader #simon riley x you #captain john price

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myhairpintrigger · 4 months

Text

Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 4

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

read previous parts here!! part 1 part 2 part 3

word count: 11.7k

warnings: nothing really, everything is canon typical. examples of an unhealthy relationship

taglist: @il0vebeingdelulu @mellowarcadefun @budugu @eir964 @arwensloanebarnes @marytvirgin @chaoticcoffeequeen @claire-loves-music

“Look at her, with her chin held high. She sympathizes with the witches, you know.”

“I heard her husband tried to kill her and she only escaped because of the Sun Summoner.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong- she’s only here to spy on her family. She’s the Darkling’s whore, now.”

“Someone told me that she was the one that orchestrated the Darkling’s death. But what can you expect? Poor girl. She’s a princess and she was forced to marry a monster.”

“Rumor has it she’s carrying his demon child.”

People love rumors. Even “good” and “noble” people love them. Powerful men love them, proper ladies love them, everyone will indulge a rumor or an especially interesting piece of gossip.

The only thing people love more than a good rumor is a very public fall from grace.

You’d once been Ravka’s darling. The crown jewel of the Lantsov family. People loved you, they adored you. You hadn’t really kept up on public appearances after your wedding, but after that, there had been a steady decline in your popularity.

No one wanted to see the promising young Lantsov daughter married off to the Darkling.

Then of course after the mishap on the Fold that left Novokribirsk consumed by darkness, you had become hated. Feared. Despised.

Most people thought that you had helped the Darkling organize the entire ordeal, and those who didn’t believed you to be spineless and foolish.

Eyes were on you now. Narrowed eyes. Accusatory eyes. So many eyes.

You grasped Vasily’s arm tightly as he led you through a crowd of Ravka’s nobles and their families. You weren’t entirely sure what everyone was doing here at the Grand Palace, but you knew that it was a political meeting of sorts.

Your father had taken ill and Vasily was ruling in his place. An interim ruler of sorts.

You weren’t supposed to be here, you were supposed to be in your bedroom, but you had tried to sneak out. You wanted to go riding, you wanted to clear your head. Unfortunately, your brother had found you before you even had a chance to make it to the stables.

You and Vasily had never gotten along well, but since you had returned home after running for weeks and weeks, from town to town, he’d stunned you with kindness and concern. He believed every word you told him about the Darkling and about how you had to escape him, unlike your mother who strongly believed you would bear his “devil child”.

The two of you made your way through the crowded room in silence, and you held his arm as if it were your lifeline. You had heard the same gossip since you returned home. You heard it from town to town when you were trying to get home from Kribirsk, and you heard it now, all around you.

You had both nearly made a successful escape from the crowd when you heard someone call out your name.

“Princess y/n!”

You and Vasily both spun around to see a woman standing behind you. She held a glass of wine in one hand and the hand of a small child in the other.

“Y-yes?” You asked softly. Vasily gave your arm a gentle tug, but you turned to him and gave him a pleading look. He relented and allowed you to talk to them, but he didn’t let you let go of his arm.

“My husband. He was in Novokribirsk when the Fold swallowed it whole. When your husband murdered an entire city.” The woman deadpanned, swirling the red wine in her glass.

You let out a dejected sigh and gathered the skirt of your lilac colored dress in your free hand and you gave her a sympathetic look, “I am sorry for your loss. I, too, am grieving the loss of the city of Novokribirsk.”

“You don’t look it.” She shot back.

“I assure you-“

You were cut off by the woman flicking her wrist and splashing the entire glass of red wine all over the bodice of your dress. You gasped and took a step back before Vasily dropped your arm and brought his fingers to his mouth. He let out a loud whistle and a few guards came running towards them.

“This woman has just… assaulted my sister.” Vasily announced and pointed at her.

The guards moved towards her, likely to detain her, and Vasily grabbed your arm and tugged you away.

“It’s your fault! My child will never see her father again! You cannot silence me! There’s a thousand just like me!” She screamed and you could hear her grunt and struggle against the guards, but Vasily would not let you look back.

Once you both had made it out of the grand hall and into the corridor leading to the staircase, Vasily let go of your arm and he pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket. He handed it to you and motioned to your exposed chest and neck.

“You might want to wipe that off before it gets sticky.”

You took the cloth from his hand and you dabbed off the droplets of wine that had made it to your chest. You let out a small sigh and looked up at your brother, offering his handkerchief back to him. He took it and stuffed it back in his pocket before he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Things will get worse before they get better. But they will get better. You’re here to stay, y/n. Let their tongues wag, sister. You are royalty. It doesn’t matter if they love you or hate you now, their opinions can be swayed. And they will be. Just not today.” Your brother said softly and you shrugged.

“They have their minds made up. I’m only as good as my husband in their eyes.” You stated, motioning to your stained dress.

“Y/n, their minds will change.”

“And then what? Tell me what then? I’ll be in their good graces until a man close to me screws up and then I’ll be cursed all over again. I am a woman, Vasily. I will always be blamed for a man’s poor choices,” You pointed out, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Our own mother thinks I am corrupted.”

“She’s just scared and confused, y/n. Father lays dying because of the Darkling. She’s just… naïve. No one ever accused her of being the brightest. But she never had to be.” He explained, trying to set your mind at ease.

You placed your left hand on your forehead and you sighed, “I just wish this past year had never happened, Vasily.” You breathed, shaking your head slowly.

Your brother eyed the hand you had on your forehead suspiciously and then he reached out and grabbed your wrist, “You know, Mother might have an easier time believing you if you didn’t still wear your wedding ring.”

You glanced down at your hand as your brother held your wrist and you frowned, “I don’t see it as a wedding ring. My friend made it. I think of it as a gift now. He’s the one that helped me escape, Vasily.”

Your brother rubbed a hand over his face and then he lowered his hand and placed it on your shoulder, “Sister, what happened to you was awful, and I’m sure it’s going to stay with you for a long time, but I think the best way to begin to move past it is to let any and all Grisha go. They are a poison to our society.”

“Don’t marginalize an entire group just for the actions of a few bad people, Vasily.” You whispered, frowning.

“Y/n. We aren’t going to talk about this right now. I must join the meeting. Go to your room and stay there. Get some rest, just… go.” He sighed. He patted your shoulder once and turned on his heel, making his way back into the hall.

You watched him disappear into the crowded room and you rubbed your face exhaustedly. Grasping your skirt in your hand, you trudged up the stairs with a sigh. You made your way to your bedroom and you closed the door behind you. You stared at the door handle for a moment and then locked it. Ever since you’d run away from Aleksander, you couldn’t help but feel like he was only one step behind you everywhere you went, like he’d always find you one way or another.

Everyone said he was dead, torn to pieces in the Fold, but deep down, you had your doubts. You couldn’t explain how or why, but you just felt like he was still out there.

When you had begun your journey back to Os Alta from Kribirsk, you didn’t stop for more than an hour at a time, bouncing around from village to village, town to town, moving constantly. Then the news began to spread. The first time you heard that Aleksander was presumed dead was when you sat in a small inn, warming your hands by a fire. From then on out, you slowed down a bit. Then the rumors about you came, and you began to move much quicker again.

You slowly pulled your dress off of your body and let it fall to the floor, kicking it aside. You’d pick it up later- you just wanted to lay down now. You grabbed the nightgown you’d worn last night off of the end of your bed and pulled it on before you laid down on your mattress and yanked the blankets up over your shoulders.

It wasn’t overly late, but there was nothing else to do except sleep at this point. You didn’t want to see anyone.

You lifted your hand up and held it over your face and you peered up at the delicate ring that you wore still. You’d had enough sense to take it off of your ring finger, and now wore it on your middle finger. As pathetic as it may seem, you didn’t feel right taking it off.

Your husband’s words echoed in your brain for what seemed like the hundredth time this week as you lowered your hand and bit your bottom lip.

“Your country will hate you. You will be cursed with the title of my wife for as long as you shall live. You’ll be treated no better than Grisha.”

You lowered your hand down onto your stomach and you looked up at the ceiling with a small sigh. Until today, it had only been rumors. Gossip. Today you’d had red wine thrown at you. What about tomorrow? Things couldn’t just keep getting worse.

But you’d find that they could.

And they would.

“Mother and I have been talking.” Vasily stated, setting his cup of tea on the table next to you.

You looked over at your brother for a moment and then you shrugged, stirring a bit of honey into your tea.

“What of?” You asked, looking back down at your tea.

“Well, we think that perhaps, for the time being, we ought to send you to Ketterdam. To study at the university, or apprentice under a politician-“

“The Fold was hardly safe to cross a month ago. What makes you think that it is crossable now?” You asked and pulled your spoon out of your tea. You pointed the spoon at your brother and clicked your tongue a few times, “I’m not going to Ketterdam, Vasily. That’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he reached out to push your spoon away and he sighed, “Sister, there have been threats made on your life. Last week you were attacked more or less. If we are going to take risks, I’d rather it be this one rather than just sitting here and wait for you to be attacked.”

You blinked a few times and looked over at your brother, “Come on, Vasily. This feels like a punishment.”

“It’s not a punishment, sister. Being in Ravka just… is not a great fit for you right now.”

You laid your hands flat on the table and you ran your tongue along the backs of your teeth angrily.

“And what does Father say of this?” You asked, drumming your fingers against the tabletop.

“He agrees, y/n. You’re a sitting duck. For many reasons. One, there are people in this country who think you should be held responsible for the Darkling’s actions, we aren’t going to wait for someone to try to hurt you. Two…” Vasily trailed off and he let out a small sigh, “Mother and Father told me not to tell you. But I’m going to because you are bound to find out on your own regardless. Sister, the Darkling lives.”

It was as if your blood turned to stone and your heart had stopped beating. Your mouth felt dry and it became very difficult to swallow. Your vision came in and out of focus and you let out an unconvincing, incredulous laugh.

“He disappeared in the Fold. He didn’t emerge. He lives not.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince; yourself or Vasily.

Your brother shrugged and he took a sip of his tea, “I’m only relaying what I’ve been told.” He remarked, setting his teacup back down onto its saucer.

The clink of ceramic made you jump slightly and you looked over at your brother, “He cannot be alive, Vasily. He will come for me. I ran from him. In his eyes, I betrayed him. He will come for me. He can’t be alive.” You pleaded, feeling sick as you glanced down at your own tea.

“That’s precisely why we’d like to send you to Ketterdam, sister. With a full team of guards. There are smugglers that are very good at what they do that can safely get you across the Fold. Once you’re across, you can go straight to Ketterdam. You’ll be safe there.” Your brother explained, reaching out to touch the back of your hand, “We can’t afford to lose you. Not when we are faced with losing our father, Nikolai hasn’t been home in over seven years… please. Go willingly.”

You felt shaky and lightheaded, as if you hadn’t eaten for days, panic filling your chest and your lungs as if it were a mere inhale. You looked away from Vasily and you stared at the wall for a long time before you gave your brother a very slight nod.

“Do you promise that these smugglers can get me across the Fold safely?” You asked slowly, your voice sounding distant in your own ears.

“We have had major success with them before, and they aren’t Grisha.” He insisted, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Okay.” You whispered and gave Vasily a small nod.

“It’s for the best.” Vasily said softly and gave your shoulder a little squeeze before he stood up from the small table you two sat at, “Perhaps you should start thinking about packing.” He remarked and then walked away, likely going off to speak to your mother or whatever else he deemed important.

You stayed seated at the table for a long time and you looked down at the ring that fit snugly on your middle finger. You bit your bottom lip and you shook your head once. Surely he was going to look for you at some point, you just didn’t know what point that would be.

Maybe, just maybe, if you left as soon as possible, you could get ahead. Leave Ravka, get halfway to Ketterdam before he caught wind of it- if he caught wind of it at all, of course. You slowly rose from the table a few moments later and you shuffled out to the hallway.

You glanced at the set of double doors at the end of the hall that led outside towards the Little Palace and you bit your lip. You checked over your shoulder briefly and then you quickly made your way outside. Once you were positive you hadn’t been seen or followed, you walked briskly towards the Little Palace. You swung the doors open and moved inside quickly before closing them again.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were back here, you hadn’t been since you’d returned back to Os Alta. Vasily and your mother had forbidden it. As nice as Vasily had been, you had come to realize he was just as wary of you as your mother.

Whatever.

Nothing you could say would change their minds, and nothing short of being the one to remove and deliver Aleksander’s head to them would make them ever think that you weren’t somehow in on what he did.

Of course that hurt, though. You had never felt loneliness like this before.

You wandered through the halls silently until you reached your old shared bedroom and you pushed the doors open.

The place had been ransacked. Likely by guards and probably your brother as well, looking for anything that might help them with the Fold.

Your wardrobe hung ajar and some of your dresses had been tossed to the ground, but for the most part, your things had been untouched. You wandered around the room silently, feeling a small pang of guilt in the pit of your stomach. Feeling guilt for what happened was insane to you, yet there the feeling was.

You glanced at the bed and almost felt tears rise to your eyes. You swallowed them back.

Despite your husband’s perversion of Alina’s power and his endless chase for his own, sometimes when it was just you and the silence, you missed him.

Not the power-hungry him. The version of him that remembered that you liked sunsets and took time out of his nights to show you them. The version of him that surprised you so excitedly with a dress that matched his own ensemble. The version of Aleksander that fussed over you being cold, that wrapped you in his cloaks and offered to carry you.

Your relationship with Aleksander was complicated. It was up and down and there were a lot of things on his end that he never told you of. Loving him was so short, yet trying to forget him would last you a lifetime.

Some days you were convinced that your relationship was founded on lies and deception and that it wasn’t even healthy for either of you. Then, other days you were certain he was the love of your life, and it pained you that his drive for power made you collateral damage.

You would have stayed forever if he had seen sense, chosen you over his want for power. But he didn’t, and that was a painful reality.

You turned on your heel and took a step towards the door before your foot hit something on the ground. You looked down to see one of your husband’s large, thick cloaks and you sunk to your knees. You gathered some of the fabric up in your hands and you held it against your chest for a moment. You ran your fingers over the soft cloak and then you let out a long, sad sigh.

You wondered if he ever thought of you the way you thought of him. Sweetly at times, scornfully at others. It was hard to imagine that he’d think of you fondly, though. Especially after you ran away.

You did what you needed to do.

That’s what everyone told you. Your mother, your father, Vasily. All of them. It was the right thing to do. You would have just been a little trophy that he got to show off as if to say “look at me. I’m so powerful that even the Ravkan princess would take my side.”

That was his plan all along. You knew that. He’d all but admitted it. The luxury of love and care he offered was a reward for submitting. It was wrong. Everything was so wrong about his proposal to you the night he had planted the amplifiers in himself and Alina. He’d gotten one thing right, though. You had turned out to be hated and blamed by the masses, just as he had predicted. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

Some days, for just brief seconds, you weren’t so sure.

You shook the thought off as quickly as it had come and you stood up, dropping the cloak back to the ground.

No, you did do what you had to do. To keep your freedom.

You quickly left the room and you took up an unforgiving walking pace back to the Grand Palace. Once you’d gotten back inside of the Grand Palace, you slammed the doors behind you and you walked back to your room as if you’d been there the whole time.

You approached the stairs and took one step up before you saw Vasily come barreling down the stairs. When he saw you, he shook his head and grabbed both of your arms.

“Where were you?” He asked in a loud tone.

“I just went back to the Little Palace to find my dress from Mother!” You lied, trying to pull away from Vasily.

“Sister, something has happened.” He said sharply and then let go of you.

You felt your stomach sink and you looked up at Vasily, urging him to continue with your stare.

“I don’t have the time nor the patience to explain. We are leaving Os Alta. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” You asked and looked up at him, shaking your head, “But what about Ketterdam? We just-“

“I know! But we must leave tonight. We will figure out other ways of getting you out of here but just go get yourself ready for travel.” He commanded and you found yourself reeling.

He pushed past you and bolted down the hall, not saying another word to you.

You stared after him for a moment before you walked up the stairs. You’d nearly made it to the top when your mother came around the corner and stood at the landing at the top of the stairs. When she saw you, her face paled.

You stopped in your tracks and looked up at her. You gave her a small, watery smile and you took one step towards her.

“Mother-“

“You reek of the darkness.” She spat and she walked down the stairs past you hurriedly, leaving you standing alone at the top of the stairs.

You felt as if she had slapped you. You wished that was all she had done.

Sounds of bustling and loud voices echoed from downstairs and you pressed your fingernails into your palms. Tears stung your eyes and you slowly dragged yourself down the hall to your bedroom.

Coming home had likely been a mistake. You wished that you’d gone across the Fold with your husband, and then ran from there. Somewhere far away from here, perhaps to Ketterdam or even beyond, because as you stood there in your bedroom feeling an endless loneliness swirl in your chest, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps you’d traded one prison for another.

Days upon days on the road had been torture. Only Vasily had spoken to you, and you stayed near the back of the group, perched on your horse.

That was, until now. Vasily had summoned you up to the front of the group with him and he offered no explanation until about an hour of awkward silence had passed. Your brother turned to you and he gave you a small sigh, slowing his horse a bit so that he was right next to you while you rode yours.

“Doing alright?” He asked, looking you up and down.

You shrugged and kept your eyes ahead, watching the trees in the distance grow closer and closer, then finding new trees to watch; repeating this.

“You’ve been a bit sour lately.” Vasily commented and you snorted once.

“Our parents are disgusted by me and I was uprooted from my home within a matter of hours. Besides, you won’t even tell me where we’re going, Vasily.” You explained and shot him a look.

“We are going somewhere very safe. A sanctuary.” He replied, giving you a shrug. He led his horse up a small hill and you were quick to follow.

He stopped at the top of the hill and pointed at an old building nestled against a cliffside.

“That is where we are going…” He trailed off mid sentence and you watched him carefully. His eyes were fixed on a small group of people standing outside of the building, and you slowly turned your head to look, too.

People in brightly colored coats stood in front of the building and a few other people were there too, in the drab colors of the First Army. There was Grisha down there, and First Army, evidently. You stared at them all for a moment and realized that these must be Grisha that didn’t side with Aleksander, or else they’d likely be locked in cages or dead, especially with members of the First Army with them.

“Come on, then,” Vasily said in a hard tone, “let’s go see who they are and what they want.” He said slowly. You nodded once and followed him down the hill, holding the reins of your horse so tight that the leather of the reins left indents in your skin.

The ride down the hill was easy and as you slowly approached the building, everyone’s heads turned to you and your brother. You recognized a few of the Grisha from your time at the Little Palace and you searched your brain for names but couldn’t come up with any. Next, you looked at the group of First Army men to the side and you widened your eyes with recognition. A blonde boy in a decorated army uniform stood speaking to a much older man in a similar uniform.

You gasped loudly and you clambered off of your horse as it still moved, ignoring Vasily’s protests. You ran the rest of the way to the group, pushing past a few of the Grisha.

“Nikolai!” You cried, and the blonde boy turned his head to see you sprinting towards him.

A warm, elated smile formed on Nikolai’s face and he stepped forward with his arms open. You ran straight into your brother’s arms and wrapped your own around his shoulders. His arms closed tightly around your torso and he gave you a tight squeeze, letting out a mirthful laugh. An excited smile of your own covered your face and you felt a sense of comfort that you hadn’t had for many months.

“Oh, y/n!” Your brother exclaimed, pulling back. He placed his hands on your arms and he looked you up and down a few times before he let out another laugh, “Saints! Look at you! You’re so grown!”

You felt giddy with delight as you stared up into the face of your brother and you reached up to mess up his blonde hair.

“It’s been seven years, Nikolai!” You exclaimed, the smile on your face not fading even a bit, “Why on earth are you here? Where on earth have you even been? I-“

“That’s quite enough, sister.” You slowly turned your head around to see that Vasily stood behind you now, also off of his horse, “I’m sure the last thing Nikolai wants is for you to be yapping his ear off.”

“I don’t mind.” Nikolai interjected firmly, dropping his hands away from your arms, “I was actually really looking forward to seeing her. When I heard you were all heading this way, I started telling everyone about you.” He remarked and looked down at you with a smile.

“Yes well, we didn’t expect you to be here. With company.” Vasily said stiffly, and you wondered what his problem was.

“The more the merrier. That’s what they say, at least, and if it’s true, I’ve got a merry little sanctuary going on here.” Nikolai quipped back at Vasily.

“I can see that.” Vasily murmured and then cleared his throat, “Why don’t you help us get everything inside, Nikolai? Have your… help aid us.”

You looked around for a moment before realizing that Vasily was less than thrilled to see Grisha here. You pressed your lips together and looked over at him with a frown.

“The help? Oh no, brother. You’re mistaken. They’re here because they want to be. No one here is above or beneath anyone. We all help each other.” Nikolai’s voice was calm and friendly, but you could always tell when he was masking his sternness behind kindness. This was one of those times.

Nikolai looked down at you and smiled, a real, genuine smile. You felt a little less lonely in that moment and he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“We have much to catch up on, and we will, believe me. But I’m gonna help get everyone situated. Maybe you should go inside and meet everyone.” He suggested and you gave him a nod.

You leaned forward and gave him another brief hug before you pulled back. You turned your head and gave Vasily a pointed look before you turned on your heel and walked inside of the large building.

Once you stepped inside, you looked around. The room was bustling with Grisha in their brightly colored clothes. You took a few more steps into the building before you heard your name called.

“Y/n?”

You turned to where the voice had come from, and you almost had to do a double take.

Alina Starkov walked towards you with a tall, lanky boy behind her, who you vaguely recognized as Malyen. Both of them approached you swiftly and you looked up at Alina, a bit shocked.

“You’re alive.” You breathed, looking her up and down a few times.

“I am, and I’m so glad to say the same for you.” She said softly and reached out.

She grabbed your hands gently in her own and she gave you a sympathetic smile. You smiled back at her and took a step closer to the girl, giving her hands a friendly squeeze.

“What happened, Alina? How did it come to this?” You asked quietly.

Her smile fell and she turned to look at the boy next to her and she gave him a little nod.

“Let’s take her to a room. So we can speak privately.” She suggested and he nodded once.

She let go of one of your hands, but kept ahold of one of them so that she could lead you through the halls of what was your supposed sanctuary.

She led you to a room with double doors and the tracker boy with her pushed them open for the two of you and you followed her inside. Once the doors were closed, Alina brought you to the foot of the bed in the room and she sat down on it, tugging you down with her.

She gave you a sad smile and then she sighed, letting go of your hand.

“You were smart to disappear.” Alina remarked and you nodded once.

“I gathered. What even happened? I know things have gotten bad-“

“Bad is an understatement.” The tracker boy, Mal, said from where he stood a few feet away.

Alina nodded once in apparent agreement and she let out another sigh.

“The day we went out into the Fold, Aleksander was… furious. He came and got me from my tent and he told me you’d be coming with us. Which, I was fearful about. He brought me to his tent, but when we arrived there, you were gone. I’ve never seen him lose composure like that,” she said, a distant look in her eye, “he was angry and he was shouting and he was commanding anyone that could hear him to go and find you. But you had just… vanished. It was like he’d lost his mind for a moment there. Some soldiers theorized that you’d been taken, and he nearly had accepted it, but Ivan wasn’t convinced. He told Aleksander that you likely ran deliberately. At that point, he didn’t want to waste any more time, so he continued with the voyage, and he said he’d ‘deal’ with you later. I don’t think he expected to lose.” She explained and then folded her hands in her lap.

You blinked a few times and you looked down into your own lap. The ring on your middle finger seemed to burn into your skin and you bit the side of your cheek sharply. You stayed silent for a while and then looked back up at Alina, puffing out your cheeks slightly.

“What happened to him? To you?” You asked, placing your hands down against the fabric of your riding pants.

“Mal fought him off mostly. He was swarmed by volcra. Mal and I… we got across the Fold and ran. Went into hiding for a while.” She answered.

“By volcra?” You said and perked your head up. If he was swarmed by volcra, there was no way that he would have survived. The rumors of his survival must have been just that: rumors.

“Yes.”

You shuddered at the thought and then you looked up at Alina, giving her a small smile. You didn’t know if you should mention what Vasily told you about your husband being alive. You probably should have, but you didn’t.

“I think… that’s for the best.” You remarked slowly and then laid your palms flat against your lap.

There was a small silence in the room and you didn’t know how to fill it. You tapped your fingers against your lap quietly and puffed your cheeks out slightly. You’d never taken the time to speak to Alina, really. The two of you had exchanged words in the Little Palace a few times but nothing groundbreaking was ever said. To be honest, you never really wanted to converse with her. Not until now, at least.

Alina’s hand grasped your shoulder and you looked over at the girl next to you. She was giving you a small, sympathetic smile.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. At least one of us made it out.” She remarked and you raised your eyebrow.

“But did I really make it out?” You asked, thinking of what your husband had said to you, about how your country would hate you. You felt a bit resentful towards your parents and your brother, Vasily. You couldn’t help but believe you had only traded one bad scenario for another.

“Yes, I can’t even imagine what would have happened if you’d gone into the Fold with us that day.” She said and you blinked a few times.

You’d wondered that, too, a couple of times. You wondered if things would have turned out differently, you wondered if you’d be with Aleksander now, you wondered if your country would still despise you so. You thought you’d done the right thing but it seemed there was no right thing to do. Only the preferable one. The one to save face. You sighed and then gave Alina a small smile.

“I think I’d like to be alone.” You whispered and Alina nodded.

“Of course. I’m right next door- if you need anything.” She said, rising from your bed.

She gave you a small wave as she and Mal left the room and you flopped back onto your bed.

Your mind raced upon being left alone and you tried to clear it by shaking your head a few times. You felt confused, angry, exasperated, and tired all at once.

You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, trying to fight back the consuming thoughts of Aleksander.

You sat between your two brothers at dinner that night, bouncing your knee anxiously. To your left, Nikolai sat sipping his wine next to Alina, and to your right, Vasily sat and picked at his food while your mother fussed over his hair as she sat next to him.

You had finished your first glass of wine and reached across the table for the bottle, only to have the back of your hand smacked by Vasily.

“Sister, we will not have a repeat of the last time you had control over your wine intake.” He spoke, giving you a condescending smile.

Nikolai reached across the table and grabbed the bottle of wine and poured some in your glass before he set the bottle back down and turned to Vasily with a grin.

“No harm done, brother. This is fine wine, after all, she’s got good taste.” Nikolai remarked and then winked at you.

You gave your blonde brother a small, appreciative smile and you grabbed the glass, taking a sip.

Vasily snorted and your mother looked over at you and Nikolai before she shook her head with a small scoff.

“Don’t defend her, Nikolai. The last time she was given wine she made a fool of herself.” Your mother snapped, but Nikolai only laughed and nudged your side.

“If you cause a scene tonight, you’ll have my appreciation. Maybe even some new pearls.” He teased and you turned to look at Nikolai. You giggled softly at his offer and then you shook your head.

“Mother and Father already covertly wish for my swift beheading. What makes you think they’ll not beat me with sticks?” You asked and took another sip of your wine.

“I gathered that Mother wasn’t too pleased with you at the moment. Why?” He asked and took a bite of his food.

You sighed and then shook your head once, glancing down at your own plate.

“She thought I was expecting the Darkling’s child. But clearly I’m not pregnant, so now she just hates me for being his wife. But that’s odd, because,” you held up your finger and jabbed it towards your mother and father, “the marriage between the Darkling and I was their idea.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes and he reached out for the bottle of wine for himself, grabbing hold of the neck of the bottle.

“Yeah, I heard about that. Thought it was a bit of an odd pairing but what do I know? Alina told me that you escaped him. Is that not enough for our parents?” He asked and poured himself more wine.

“Evidently not. I thought Vasily was on my side, but it seems not. But I mean, no one else is. The entire country hates me.” You remarked and then looked up at Nikolai, “you know people and their rumors.” You said and then gave your brother a weak smile.

“I don’t hate you. And I am on your side,” Nikolai began, giving you a sympathetic smile, “you did the right thing, you shouldn’t be punished for it. Sometimes running is the brave thing. Sometimes you have to walk out, have to give up. It doesn’t always feel right, but it’s braver in the grand scheme of it all to have cut your losses and started over fresh.” He said and then placed his hand on your shoulder, “I think you’re brave. Braver than me, even. I’m proud of you.” He said softly and then squeezed your shoulder.

You looked at your brother, surprised. You shook your head once and then you let out a sad laugh.

“Oh, Nikolai. I’ve missed you more than you will ever know.” You murmured and then rubbed your eyes.

You pulled your hands away from your eyes and it looked as if Nikolai was about to say something more, but Vasily’s loud voice stopped him.

“Why must you always play the diplomat, Nikolai?” Vasily asked, holding his wine glass close to his lips. He shot a look at you and then one at Alina, “Grisha dining beside true Ravkan soldiers is a bit too much for all of our stomachs.”

You made a disgusted face at Vasily and opened your mouth to protest, but you were stopped by Alina’s voice.

“We’re all Ravkan here.” She snapped

“Doesn’t have to be us versus them.” Nikolai added.

“Your bigotry is rather outdated, Vasily.” You chimed in, earning a look of disdain from your mother.

“General Kirigan should’ve thought of that before he tried to murder our father and stage a coup.” Vasily shot back and then gave you a nasty little smirk, “That said, absent their Darkling, the Grisha are rather easy to manage. Though, it seems our sister has become more difficult to manage in the lack of his presence. Why do you think that is?” He asked and kept his eyes on yours, accusingly.

“By “manage” do you mean “execute”, moi tsarevich?” Alina asked, sharply, and this seemed to be enough to draw your brother’s accusatory eyes away from yours.

“That fate is reserved for traitors to the Crown, Miss Starkov.” He answered and then looked back at you, lips curling upwards.

“If the Second Army requires a leader loyal to the Crown to assure their fealty, then I will lead them.” Alina said calmly, leaning over the table to look at Vasily.

Your oldest brother tore his gaze away from you and smiled at Alina. He laughed and took a long sip of his wine, glancing at your mother who was also giggling.

“Why should I believe you have any loyalty to my family? I hardly have any within it.” He remarked and eyed you and Nikolai amusedly.

Nikolai glanced at you for a second and then he looked at Alina. The two stared at each other for a moment and then Nikolai grabbed his wine glass and stood up.

For a split second, you thought he might leave the table. He began speaking instead.

“Today marks the start of a new era of cooperation between Lantsovs and the Grisha” he began and held his glass up in a toast, “I’m delighted to announce my engagement to Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner and the new leader of the Second Army. Together we will build a better future for Ravka.” He finished. He shouted praise to Ravka in the native tongue and raised his glass higher before taking a sip and sitting back down.

You gaped up at your brother and blinked a few times. Vasily muttered something in your mother’s ear and you whipped around to look at them.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” You snapped, staring at the two of them, “you’re no better than the rest of the gossipers in this country. You just sit on pretty chairs.” You hissed and then stood up.

You looked down at Nikolai and Alina and gave them a smile, “I’m happy for you both.” You said softly and then patted Nikolai’s shoulder before you pushed your chair in and left the dining hall.

You walked out into the hallway without looking back, but you heard heavy footsteps behind you. You didn’t turn around, and you wouldn’t have either, if your brother’s clammy hand didn’t clamp itself around your wrist. He yanked you backwards and you found yourself face to face with a seething Vasily.

“You wretched brat!” Vasily screamed. He lifted your wrist up and snatched the ring off of your middle finger and threw it down the hallway.

You gasped loudly and tried to yank your arm away from his grip, but to no avail.

“After all I have sacrificed for you-“

“Sacrificed for me? What have you sacrificed for me? You’ve sacrificed nothing of your own. You’ve sacrificed my reputation. My name. You’d sooner see me dragged through the mud before anyone blackens your name, Vasily.” You snapped back, reaching out to shove his chest as you yanked your wrist free of his grip.

“You selfish-“

“I’m allowed to be fucking selfish!” You exclaimed and balled your fists up, “After everything that’s happened to me, I’m allowed to look out for myself! I was married off with no say to someone wicked and I am now blamed for that! Once again, another example of how a man’s poor choice becomes my fault! Father chose the Darkling for me, and now he’s angry at me for it? Please. He’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

Vasily seemed shocked by your words and he struggled to form any of his own, it seemed. His brows furrowed together and he looked as if he might reach out and strangle you at any second before you heard Nikolai behind him.

“Vasily, I think it’s time to leave her alone and go back to the table.” Nikolai suggested, striding towards the two of you.

Vasily only seemed to grow angrier and before you knew it, he was lunging for you. You shrieked and jumped backwards and Nikolai jolted forward and grabbed Vasily by the arms, yanking him backwards.

“Enough! All three of you, enough!”

You all turned to see your father standing in the hallway with his hands on his hips and his brows furrowed angrily. Vasily shook himself free of Nikolai’s grip and he smoothed his hair back before going to join your father by his side.

“There are wars being waged out there! There are battles to be fought! That is to be expected, but I will not have my own children causing turmoil!” He bellowed, “All of you, get back in there and sit down. Pretend to like each other if you must, but behave! I’ll not have you bring more shame into this family.” He spat and then eyed you and Nikolai.

He turned around with Vasily and marched back into the dining hall. You inhaled deeply and turned around, scanning the hallway for your ring.

“Y/n…” Nikolai began as you dropped to your knees and began to search the floor for your wedding ring.

“Just go back to dinner, Nik. I’m going to my room.” You said with a small sigh as you continued to look for the little piece of jewelry.

“What are you looking for?” He asked, lowering himself down to the ground with you.

You let out a huff and turned your head around to face him.

“A ring.”

“Your wedding ring.” He corrected and you blinked a few times.

“I don’t think of it as a wedding ring.” You protested and continued crawling around the floor to find it.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know.” Nikolai said softly and you froze. You didn’t turn around.

“I don’t miss him.” You said flatly, but you knew it was a lie and so did Nikolai.

Nikolai moved towards you and placed his hand on your back gently, sighing.

“Y/n, it’s okay to miss him,” he repeated, hand still against your back, “he was your first real… suitor. I’m sure despite the arranged marriage aspect, you did come to love him, and that’s okay. You aren’t a monster for loving someone,”

He said softly and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side, “our parents failed you, sister. Your husband failed you. This country failed you. You are young and you were taken advantage of in so many ways. Our parents took advantage of you, I’m sure the Darkling did as well. You can condemn what he’s done and not agree with what he believes and still miss him.” Your brother said softly.

You felt tears spring to your eyes and you leaned against his side, sniffling once.

“I feel so stupid, Nikolai,” you breathed and turned to look up at him, “I do miss him. I miss him dearly. I sometimes question whether or not I did the right thing when I ran. It’s so hard to accept that this is just how it is now. He said he loved me, Nikolai. He told me that he’d always protect me, and I believed him. I let him persuade me so many times with soft words and affectionate touches, I was weak. I was weak and now I’m paying for it.”

“You weren’t weak. You didn’t know better, little sister.” Nikolai whispered and then he pulled away from you. He stood up and walked down the hallway and crouched down.

He picked something up and came back to you, kneeling in front of you. He held your wedding ring out towards you and gave you a small smile.

“You did the right thing. You did the brave thing. Now let yourself grieve.” He said and you gently took the ring from his fingers.

You slipped it back on and Nikolai offered you his hand. You took it gratefully and he pulled you to your feet.

“Everything will turn out for the best, sister. I promise.” He said, giving you a kind smile.

You returned his smile briefly but then let the smile fade from your face.

Best for who?

The following weeks were hardly eventful and you found yourself bored in your so-called sanctuary. No one ever let you go far outside and when you did go outside- which was a rare occurrence- Nikolai or Alina and Mal accompanied you.

With little to do, you’d taken to following Nikolai around. Most days, he’d entertain you by telling you stories of his time at sea as the two of you wandered the halls of the old building you occupied.

Today, you hoped, wouldn’t be any different. You had risen from bed rather late in the morning and by the time you went to seek Nikolai out, he’d been gone for a while. You spent the morning in your room while you waited for Nikolai to return and you read through one of the three books you’d been able to pack up and bring. But you’d been at this now for hours, and you started to grow deathly bored of your own company.

With a long groan, you slowly rose from the bed and you shuffled out into the hallway. You heard people talking from further out in the hall and you made your way towards the voices curiously.

You rounded a corner and saw Alina, Mal, two other Grisha, a man in shackles, and Nikolai all standing together. You padded towards them all, catching the last words out of Nikolai’s mouth.

“He claims to have escaped from a very alive General Kirigan.” Nikolai said to Alina in a quiet voice.

Not quiet enough, you thought. Because the words still reached your ears.

“He gave himself up without a struggle. We found this on him.” Nikolai added and handed something to Alina, “He says it’s one of Morozova’s journals. I for one, am dying to know more, but he’s insisted he speak with you.”

You came closer and Nikolai caught sight of you and he let out a small sigh, slowly taking a step towards you.

“What’s happening?” You asked quietly, looking up at your brother.

Nikolai swept his arm out towards the group in front of you, and you glanced over at the man in shackles. You were instantly hit with recognition.

The man in shackles had ragged hair and he was dirty, but you knew him from anywhere. It was David Kostyk. The Durast that helped you escape from Aleksander.

You took a step forward but Nikolai grabbed your arm and shook his head, “No.” he said quietly.

David seemingly hadn’t noticed you yet and he stepped towards Alina, only to be stopped by one of the large Grisha you recognized as a boy named Tolya.

“Alina…” David began, “I know I wronged you. Please believe that I regret my role in that deeply. I know you have reason to distrust me, but I have no loyalty to General Kirigan.”

“He survived the Volcra?” Alina asked, almost shakily.

“I’m afraid so,” David began and then he shook his head, “He also knows that you survived and you’re in East Ravka.”

“Tell us where he is.” Mal demanded.

You moved to step forward again, but Nikolai stopped you once more and sent you a warning look.

“No, no, no. That would be a very bad idea.” David said, clearly afraid.

“You can’t expect us to trust you unless you’re willing to share information.” Alina piped up.

“Confronting him would be suicide. Kirigan used merzost to create something in the Fold. Creatures that do his bidding. The size of two men! Formed of pure shadow! They have no breath to take, no heart to stop, no blood to drain, yet they live. They live and they kill. They are nichevo'ya.” He said quietly.

Nothings. Your Ravkan was weak, but you understood what he said.

“Bullets, blades, fire, all simply pass through.” David breathed, “and they all walk freely in sunlight. I fear that merzost may be the only way to kill them.” David finished and then his eyes flickered over to you. You gave him a small smile.

A look of surprise and then terror washed over his face and he blinked a few times.

“So how did you manage to get away, then?” Mal asked.

David struggled to answer Mal and he let out a tired sigh, “Genya. We tried to escape together, but the nichevo'ya… She sacrificed herself to get me out. I don’t know if she survived.” David said, on the verge of tears.

You felt sadness for him and you gently grabbed Nikolai’s arm and looked up at him with a frown. He gave you a look of sympathy and then he let out a sigh, puffing his cheeks out.

“A smart spy will always play the victim.” Tolya pointed out.

“No, no.” David whispered desperately.

“You make a valid point, Tolya.” Nikolai said and you pulled on his arm, “As leader of the Second Army, Alina, this is your call.” He said slowly.

“I trust him. With my life.” You said quickly and suddenly all eyes were on you.

You felt a bit nervous and your brother gave you a sharp look but you let out a sigh and shook your head.

“I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for David. He helped me escape the Darkling.” You explained vaguely, looking over at the terrified Durast.

“Take him to a holding cell.” Alina finally said and you felt your face fall.

“Alina-“ you began, but Nikolai gently grabbed your arm and he shook his head.

“We can discuss this, but not here.” He said firmly, but the kindness in his voice never left.

You met his eyes and stared at him for a while before you finally nodded. You knew you’d be able to talk some kind of sense into Nikolai, and in turn, he’d likely be able to talk some into Alina. David wasn’t a bad person, you knew this wholeheartedly, and you also knew indefinitely that if he claimed to not be here on the Darkling’s orders, then he certainly wasn’t.

“We need a moment alone.” Mal piped up and you and your brother both turned to him.

Nikolai’s eyes flickered between Mal and Alina for a moment and then he nodded.

“Of course,” he said and offered his arm to you, “come, sister. You and I can also speak privately.” He remarked.

You gently took your brother’s arm and he led you down the hall towards his makeshift office. Once the two of you were securely inside, he closed the door and he looked down at you.

“Alright. Tell me everything you know about David Kostyk.” Nikolai said patiently and walked towards his desk. He sat down in the chair that was placed in front of the wooden desk and he folded his arms, looking up at you expectantly.

“David is a friend. He is the one that created the collar for Alina and he did put the amplifiers in both my husband and her, but you must understand, he had no choice. He regretted that choice. He’s the one that aided me in my escape. He came to the Darkling’s tent and he gave me a disguise and he let me run.” You explained and wrung your hands together.

Your brother seemed to consider this and then he gave you a little nod before he raised one eyebrow.

“You’ve never mentioned this before.” He stated and leaned forward a bit in his chair.

“I didn’t want it to get back to the Darkling. He would’ve hurt David.” You said and then walked to Nikolai’s desk. You laid your hands down against the desk’s cold, wooden surface, and you let out a sigh, “Look, if he’s alive like David says, then we need everyone we can get. He’ll come for Alina.”

Nikolai nodded once and then seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before speaking again.

“He’ll likely come for you, too, you know.” Your brother remarked and slowly rose from his chair.

“I disagree. I think he values Alina much more. I’m dead to him. He gave me an opportunity to join him and a promise that my life would be misery if I didn’t. He’s making good on the promise, reuniting with me would be nonsensical.” You reasoned.

Nikolai shrugged and dragged a hand through his blonde hair, “You aren’t in the clear just because you ran, y/n.” He mused and then stood up, “I’m going to have a word with Alina about Mr. Kostyk. Why don’t you wait here for me?”

He suggested.

You gave him a little nod and then you sat down in one of the armchairs near the desk.

“Can I see him? I consider him a friend, Nik.” You murmured softly, feeling sadness grow in the pit of your stomach at the thought of David in a cell.

“I… don’t see that being much of an issue eventually.” He answered and walked towards the door, patting your shoulder reassuringly as he passed you. He left the office and closed the door behind you, leaving you in the silence of the empty office.

Nearly an hour and half had gone by according to the clock that sat on Nikolai’s desk, and no one had come back to the office. At first you spent your time rifling through papers in Nikolai’s desk, but you found nothing of interest, so you’d sat back down in the uncomfortable armchair you had initially been in.

Now you sat, spinning your sparkling wedding ring around your middle finger. It was a band of thin rectangular diamonds framed in gold. It was missing one stone, and you assumed it had gotten lost when Vasily threw your ring across the hallway weeks ago. It wasn’t noticeable, though. You just wore the part with the missing stone on the back of your finger, hiding it from sight.

You pulled the piece of glimmering jewelry off of your middle finger and slipped it on your ring finger, holding your hand up in front of your face to see. It fit much better around your ring finger, as it was intended to spend the rest of its days upon that specific finger. While it fit on your middle finger, it was slightly too tight and oftentimes you had to slip it off in the mornings when your hands were swollen.

You admired the way the ring sparkled in the sunlight that filtered through the window and you smiled just a bit, wiggling your finger.

Just then, the door swung open and you lowered your hand quickly before turning around to see Nikolai standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean for that to take so long, my apologies, little sister.” He hummed and then let out a little laugh, “you could’ve left, you know.” He remarked.

You rose from the uncomfortable armchair and walked over to your older brother, shaking your head.

“Punctuality was never your strong suit.” You replied and smiled up at him.

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t give you a time frame.” He quipped and then he smiled down at you, “Alina spoke to David. She’s deemed him trustworthy enough, which is good. If you still wish to speak with him still, I can take you to him.” Nikolai offered.

You nodded vigorously at his offer and you gave him a small smile, “I’d really like that.”

Nikolai swept his arm towards the door and motioned for you to exit his office and you did so with a certain excitement. He led the way downstairs and through a few winding halls before he pushed open a door and stepped inside with you.

You hadn’t been in this area before, and it was apparent why. The walls were shabby and there was dust everywhere, settling over everything. Nikolai walked towards a row of doors down a hallway that was in the same condition and he unlocked one and opened it up.

As the door swung open, you shuffled into the doorway to be met with the disheveled face of David Kostyk inside. His eyes lit up when he saw you and you slowly turned around to look at Nikolai who stood behind you protectively.

“Nik, can we have a moment?” You asked softly and turned around to look up at your brother.

He looked into the makeshift cell for a moment and then studied David and gave you a short nod.

“Okay. I’m not leaving this wing though.”

You nodded and watched as he made his way back down the hall before you walked inside of the cell and gave David a little smile.

The Durast gave you a small, awkward wave due to the shackles on his wrists that held his hands apart and he seemed to relax tenfold.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he began, taking a step towards you, “I kind of hoped you would’ve ran somewhere besides Ravka.” He confessed and let out a very small laugh.

“I didn’t really know where else to go.” You admitted and then shook your head, “But it’s really, really great to see you, David. I was worried that perhaps something happened to you. Or that you’d given your loyalty to the Darkling. Neither were necessarily preferable.” You said with a slight shake of your head.

You turned around and slowly pushed the door closed so that it was only open about an inch and you turned back to David, letting out a quiet sigh.

“He lives?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

David eyed you with trepidation and finally nodded just once.

“He does.” He confirmed, his lips tugging themselves downwards into a frown.

“I don’t understand how that’s possible, Alina told me he was swarmed by volcra.” You folded your arms over your chest and looked up at David.

David was never an overly confident presenting man to begin with, always holding himself with gracelessness and awkwardness, but he seemed smaller than usual now. He seemed almost fragile. He seemed much less awkward and instead afraid. He seemed to shrink back a bit at the topic and he pursed his lips and looked down into your eyes.

“He used very dark forces to keep himself alive.” He said slowly, eyes shifting away from yours, “I really wish you would’ve run away. Out of Ravka, y/n. There isn’t a safe place in this country. Not anymore.”

You kept your eyes on his face and you shook your head a couple of times, “I couldn’t abandon my family, David-“

“He’s not going to stop until he finds you.” He interjected sharply and then looked up at you with furrowed brows, “You were practically all he spoke about. If he wasn’t rambling on about his nichevo'ya or Alina, he was talking about you. He’s completely obsessed.”

You blinked a few times and then shook your head, as if that would make what he said less true.

“Let him obsess over finding me and delivering punishment for my ‘transgressions’ against him. It doesn’t mean he will.” You said in a small voice. You were unsure if you believed it, though.

“No, it was nothing like that. He’s reached a state of limerence, Princess. It’s a madness that I never thought I’d see in him. He has himself convinced fully that he’s going to rescue you from your family and put you on a throne next to himself. He still wears his wedding ring.” David explained, leaning his back up against the wall behind him.

Your ring seemed to burn through your skin when you heard this, and you realized you’d not moved it back onto your middle finger. Slowly, you clasped your hands behind your back, wanting to keep your hand out of sight now.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, “he said that if I didn’t take his side that I’d be a traitor.”

David seemed to hesitate as he looked up at you and he pressed his lips together until there was no trace of them on his face. He finally swore under his breath and fidgeted with his fingers.

“I think that at one point, he loved you. But I think that love became… an obsession. Something he clung to in a way that simply cannot be healthy.” He said slowly, tapping on the wood that held his hands apart.

You could tell this conversation was making him uncomfortable and you felt a bit guilty for bringing it up.

“What does that mean, David?” You asked, despite a little voice in the back of your head telling you to drop it.

“I think it means that you need to get out of Ravka before he comes searching,” he paused for a moment and then shook his head, “because I worry that if he does find you again, you won’t be able to say no to him.” He said reluctantly.

You narrowed your eyes at David and you shook your head, “I’m very capable of resisting him. I ran from him once, I could do it again.”

David very slowly shook his head and he nodded towards you, swallowing one time, nervously.

“You still wear your ring, too.”

“Not because-“

“You don’t have to rationalize it to me, Princess. No one could blame you for missing the man you married. You relied upon him for comfort and protection for a while. You two had a very strange and unique bond. I’m sure that hasn’t been forgotten by you. While I don’t doubt your capabilities, Princess, I can’t in good conscience undermine his ability to crawl underneath your skin.” David stated in a shaky voice, as if he were afraid of your reaction.

He had a point, and you couldn’t deny that. Many times he’d found a way to make you give in to him, always knowing what would make you soften. He always used kind words and gentle touches to persuade you to see things from his perspective, always saying just what you wanted to hear from him. He would promise you he loved you, assure you that you were safe with him, he’d give you the affection and adoration you had sought after, and time after time, it proved effective.

He was a master of manipulation, you knew it. Everyone did.

Your eyes flickered to David and he gave you a sympathetic look, chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously.

“I will not let him.” You finally answered, eyeing David with the same trepidation he had looked at you with earlier.

David shrugged slightly and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice if he finds you.” He mumbled and then he looked around the room, avoiding your eyes, and just like that, you realized you’d lost another friend.

Your nose twitched and you realized that you’d really lost everyone. Your mother, your father, Vasily- even if he was truly insufferable. You’d lost your country’s favor, you were sure to lose Nikolai at this rate, and you seemingly already had lost David.

You lost Aleksander, too.

The thought hit you out of nowhere and you almost jumped by the way it had startled you.

Everything he had said would happen if you didn’t take his side, was happening, and you weren’t too sure how to handle it.

On one hand, you wanted to let it all roll right off your shoulder, to come off as unbothered and in control. On the other hand, though, you wanted to lash out and condemn everyone who had turned their back on you just because of him.

But the truth was, you weren’t in control, and you weren’t unbothered. Everyday became more difficult and everyday brought more accusatory stares. Some from Grisha, some from Mal Oretsev, most from your parents and Vasily, and some from a few of the First Army soldiers that came in and out. Now, you felt the same stare from David as he watched you from where he stood against the wall.

It was almost as if he was hearing you work all of this out in your head. You didn’t think he’d ever say it but you wondered if he was thinking “I told you so”.

What was the point of trying to prove everyone wrong when even the truth of the matter wouldn’t sway their convictions? Your case fell on a faulty jury, your judgment was passed by a thousand unjust judges.

Your truth wasn’t the truth they had decided on for you, and to them, it was just a story. A way to save face.

It didn’t matter what you said now, didn’t matter who you swore allegiance to. You were whatever they made you, and they made you more and more a villain everyday. No amount of reassurances and support from Nikolai could erase that.

The realization that your reputation was now as tainted as your husband’s made your eyebrows knit together in frustration. You slowly lifted your eyes up to David and you gave him a disparaging frown.

“I best be going.” You mumbled, not waiting for a farewell from the boy.

You turned on your heel and marched out of the cell, closing the door behind you with a force you didn’t fully intend on. You squared your shoulders and made your way back to the hallway where Nikolai stood and he gave you a small smile when he saw you.

“That was a little bit more brief than I expected.” Nikolai noted, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“I heard all I needed to hear.” You replied, shortly.

“I take it by your tone that it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear.” He prodded, taking a step towards you.

You shrugged complacently.

“It never is.”

#grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine #the darkling #the darkling x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

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hoverboards-and-dragons · 1 month

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A Lilith character study about Lucilith

Lilith thinks about how her husband would die for her, she'd kill for him and how their experiences during creation really did fucked them up but its probably fine.

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

Lilith didn't trust easily.

She doubted she could trust at all anymore.

She was an admitted selfish woman, unapologetically ambitious, truly sinful.

She belonged in hell and she couldn't be prouder of that, of a kingdom that called her wholly it's own and loved her as fiercely as she loved it; of standing for herself among those who only knew how to kneel and demanded the same from her.

The only reason she'd say Lucifer didn't belong in Heaven was that he was simply far too good that wretched place. Even if his revulsion for her home and pride weighed heavy on her heart.

Good things didn't 'happen to' Lilith, every good thing in her life had been viciously fought for and defended: except for Lucifer.

Lucifer was the best thing to ever happen to her, the only good thing that ever just happened to her. Stepping into her life and simply giving her all the admiration, freedom and power she had could have ever desired, ever been denied, as if she deserved it, as if she didn't have to fight for it.

Lilith didn't trust easily, and small dark part of her doubted that there even was such a thing.

But she remembers what it was to be held against Lucifer while his body split the sky, all six wings shielding her without a thought to even trying to slow his own decent; and that pure relief when he saw her almost unscathed, even as his broken form was painting the ground gold in a quickly deepening puddle.

It remained her that she did know what trust was. She had a truth lain before her that not even her deepest skepticism could deny: that new scorned woman in Paradise, that had to learn all gifts came with strings, the benefit of the doubt only led to loss and that no one acted without agenda.

Lucifer was exactly who she had always seen. After everything was stripped away, there was nothing else hidden under mask or act.

He looked at Lilith like she centred the entire world, like she deserved everything and more, all of creation and anything belong it.

Because he truly believed she did.

How many nights awake had Lilith spent battling with that realization, that he was real, that anyone could be that openhanded, that endlessly eager and willing to put someone else before themselves, with no fear or hostility or even hesitation.

That he loved her.

Chose her.

Chose her before God.

(She shelved those thoughts for another time, she was spiralling enough without a contemplation of just how high his place in the universe - that he saw her as leagues above - actually was.)

She didn't bother with questions of deserving like Lucifer sometimes did. She didn't care if either of them deserved each other.

Lilith didn't 'deserve' anything, she wanted things, and then she took them.

Just like every other rare commodity Lilith got her hands on, she coveted him selfishly.

She couldn't let it ruin him. She may love hell, but Lucifer was something special, unreproducible and irreplaceable. He would not be torn down into just another sinner out for himself and his power.

Especially with the toll this separation from his family was already on him.

If she was any less sure it wouldn't help him, she'd storm the gates of Heaven itself and tear those pitiful excuses for siblings, kin and a Father apart limb by limb.

Did they not understand what they were so callously tarnishing?! This pure true divinity so infinitely rare even upon their holy kind! Tossed aside, forgotten and left to rot.

No.

Lilith wouldn't allow that.

She had always lived, worked and thrived in the scraps discarded from Heaven's over abundance. She knew the endless potential in things they habitually overlooked.

She would love and adore him like they failed to. Utilize every piece of him he offered, make fools out of everyone who'd ever given him up.

And they would learn to fear her at his stead.

Heaven has freely given her the rope they will hang by.

#Lucifer was hurt #Lilith was hardened #they are mutually obsessed with each other <3 #I like my women a bit deranged #and I like my men into it #when y'alls traumas fit together like puzzle pieces #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel headcanons #hellaverse #lucilith #lucifer morningstar #lilith x lucifer #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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ystrike1 · 10 months

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Tracing the flower funeral - By Komura (9/10)

Control is framed as a fetish here. "The master is actually the butler" is kind of overplayed at this point, and it's a little silly. How can an employee get away with abusing their unwilling employer? This story writes around that. The "butler" is a powerful man who just so happens to have a fetish for servitude, and he has a favorite lady.

Lady Yurimiya is a wealthy heiress runaway. She had no life back at home. She is a very minor member of a very major family. Nobody in the upper crust is interested in marrying her or befriending her, but she had to follow all of the strict rules anyway. It was a very pointless and boring life.

Mr. Souichi Nakiri, her "butler", is looking for her. This story gets weirder with every page. Souichi used Lady Yurimiya like a doll, and nobody stopped him. That's...really horrible, but why was he allowed to terrorize the poor woman. Lady Yurimiya can't be treated roughly by a mere employee. That would reflect badly on her family.

Something isn't adding up...

Lady Yurimiya is not an idiot. She ran away to get a job and live in reality. She dyed her hair. She made friends. She loves her new life.

She tries to reason with Souichi.

Souichi doesn't care about her logic. He liked taking care of her. Managing her every move turned him on. He misses controlling her, and he wants her to go back to her old life.

She resists.

Really hard actually.

Lady Yurimiya puts up a decent fight.

Souichi traps her. The situation worsens. The Yurimiya family wants to marry her off to a lesser family, to get rid of her. She will be given to a man who will never love her. She will be the "bride that isn't quite pure enough" for the rest of her days, if she ever gets dragged home.

If she doesn't accept "help" from Souichi someone else will come take her.

Souichi stays over.

Lady Yurimiya tries to set boundaries, but Souichi disrespects her at every turn. His Lasy Yurimiya is a reserved raven haired beauty. He refuses to accept the blond and bubbly girl she has become.

The Nakiri family is actually more influential than the Yurimiya family. There's...alot to unpack here. Souichi is "serving" Lady Yurimiya voluntarily. Running away from home was never going to work...because a family even more influential than the Yurimiya Clan has laid claim on her.

The situation with Souichi isn't really explained. He might not be the Nakiri family heir, but he's high up. High up enough to spend his life role playing as an abusive butler.

He also knows Lady Yurimiya is afraid of him, and he doesn’t care. It reassures him. Fear makes people easier to control, after all.

His insults are brutal.

He tears apart her appearance.

Her job.

Her dreams.

She only needs to be a doll wife for him.

If she refuses her future husband will be a thousand times worse, and a million times more neglectful, than him.

He humiliates her in public.

He hands in her resignation slip for her, in front of one of her close work friends.

He cuts her important ties for her, before they leave.

He makes her look like a snob too, so her friends won't try to contact her.

He thrives on her misery and her happiness. Either one is good enough for him. He's obsessed with her. Her smile doesn't matter, as long as he has her. Souichi is an extremely selfish, spoiled and capable yandere. He seems like the kind of guy nobody says no too. Maybe you've met somebody like him. The classic spoiled kid that can't take no for an answer.

That's him, but he's a scary adult so it's extra freaky.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #smut #Tracing the flower funeral

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an-au-blog · 4 months

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An au where sanji cheats on charlotte pudding with zoro. But like not really. Is it cheating if u r about to be married off against ur will. Which is messed up. Sorry. But this has so much feelings. If u cd write as a one last time thing. A closure. He is forcefully being married off to her and one last time with zoro is all he asks for .

My first thought was... he wouldn't do that to a woman... but then I thought... well she's pretty honest about not wanting him though... plus - corruption happens gradually.

Idk how agreeable with the timeline hut uh...

EDIT!!! I started doing this in canon but then I stopped because I thought "okay, but this would be better in royalty au", so I started doing that. Sorry for taking a while. I haven't been on my usual groove lately:/

(ok, uhhh here I go making stuff up now)

Sanji had a bit of an on and off relationship, if one could even call it that. It started off as a moment of weakness but then they started enjoying the comforting touches, the hugs, the lingering kisses. It was nice to feel needed, wanted. And not long after, they became... something. Neither of them knew what... but it was something...

Then the WCI thing happened and Sanji felt more alone than ever. He heard how she talked to him behind his back. She started talking like that in front of him too. He was unwanted, unneeded. There was no Luffy, no Nami... no Zoro.

... ok so uh sorry, wait, royalty au now

Sanji was sent off to marry a princess. He had no idea who she was, but what he did know was that he'd get away from his family. Away from his brothers and father at least. That was enough. After his mother's death, his sister was the only one who he felt alright around.

At first he was so happy to have a chance with a beautiful girl like her. But whenever Sanji tried to meet her before the wedding, she told the guards to refuse him. During the wedding she acted sweet, but it seemed more like she was happy at the guests, rather than him. But he was sure it was fine. After the wedding she acted like he wasn't there. When they got to their bed chambers, she finally turned to him and told him she was "Oh, so tired, would you mind leaving the room for me just for tonight, husband dear?" And of course Sanji would! Sure it might have been a political arrangement, but he'd do all he could to be the best husband for her.

One night kicked out of his own chambers turned into two, turned into a week, turned into several months. She hated him. She didn't want to even look at him. Whenever he was in the room, she'd walk out, not even trying to make up an excuse. He would hang around the kitchens a lot, and from time to time he'd hear the staff whisper about how the mistress would talk badly about the mister. He would listen to all the insults she had said about him and how she wished he'd never been born.

It was better than living in fear of being attacked by his brothers or father... but he felt even more lonely.

He grew tired of having to listen to the servants talking about how she talked behind his back. Tired of having their eyes filled with pity on him every time he tried to distract himself with cooking.

He took a trip into town, he paid one of the servants to give him his clothes. Oddly enough the servants seemed to like him quite a bit. So at least he had some of them to cover for him (not that anyway would look for him).

He looked for a bar or restaurant. He had never actually gone out of the castle gates. No one offered to take him out for a tour or even tell him about his people. All he knew about the things around him was because of books and what he's asked from servants.

He soon finds a bar/tavern. Upon walking in, he bumped into someone. He was going to apologize, but then the man scowled at him. He looked dumb, with three swords and green hair. What a pretentious bastard.

Comments were exchanged and before either of them realized it, they were fighting. The owner of the bar/tavern came out - an old man with a braided mustache. He stopped the fight. Turned out that the moss-headed guy was named Zoro and was a bounty hunter, who was in town not for long. "Such a shame though," the swordsman said "I would've lived to spar again, you're almost like an equal."

"Oh yeah?" Sanji gave in "Come any time, I'd love to kick your ass."

"What do you know about anything, castle-loving freak."

Sanji stepped back at Zoro'z words. They were a joke, he was sure but how did he know? "Wh- what do you mean?"

"Isn't that the uniform of the castle servants?"

Sanji could breathe again. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to change..."

Time passed and each day Sanji would go to the tavern. The owner - Zeff, would let him cook in the kitchen sometimes. Zoro was there for a weeks woth of time and then left without a word. A shame, Sanji felt that they could have had a beautiful friendship... Life continued and not much changed. A year more locked out of his chambers, servants whispered about other people being more welcome in the young lady's room than her own husband. He didn't like that word anymore. It felt hollow when it came to her.

And then Zoro came along again. Sanji didn't know he could be that happy. They went back into a routine. Zoro left now and again for jobs, but the days of his absence started to get less and less. First it was several months, then five or four, until he decided to stay for almost a year in town. Sanji didn't want to hope too big, but he gathered up the courage to ask "why"? Why would he keep coming back to a town with no work for him.

Zoro didn't even try to lie that it was work. Sanji had seen him taking up small jobs and sleeping in the tavern for free. Sanji even tried giving him money, but he's as stubborn as a mule.

The swordsman looked at Sanji and told him why, it was "because you're here."

Sanji didn't believe it at first, he wasn't something anyone would want to stay or go anywhere. But then Zoro kept talking about how he wanted to take Sanji with him and travel. But how could Sanji say yes... how could he say no...

He said he needed time but Zoro took it as a no. He left and this time his voyage was almost as big as the first time. But when he came back, he wasn't alone.

Sanji didn't even notice that he was with other people. The moment he spotted him, he leaped into his arms and kissed him. He kissed him like he wished he did a year ago. He told him that he was an idiot and that he didn't mean it as a no, and then he heard the people behind him. Zoro introduced himself again, as the right-hand man of the future king of the pirates.

Luffy laughed and said "So you're the cook that my ship needs! That's so cool! Join my crew!"

#you gotta understand i am very tired and have been struggling with statistics for 3 days this is all i can do atm #zosan #zsz #sanji x zoro #zoro x sanji #royalty au #answers #op

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ryujnn · 1 year

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► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ a photograph without a face.

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ closing one chapter in your life means opening the next — starting the first few pages off with gin, tonic and your husband.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ gojo being flirty. mature language. mature themes if you use a magnifying glass. mentions of death and funerals.

► note ﾟ｡ ⋆ GOJO X READER CONTENT WOO!!! i can’t wait to write their dynamic now that she’s starting a new chapter *cries* i love this series so much. dont forget to send me an ask and lmk how you enjoyed the chapter!

tag list. visual + character board. prev. next.

“Will you be home late, Mrs. Gojo? We’ll have the guard on watch prepare to let you in whenever you arrive.”

You smiled at the lady, bowing slightly to thank her. “Yes, I’ll be home a little later than usual,” Brushing your palms against your black dress, hands shivering just slightly. “If my husband arrives before me, tell him I’m sleeping.”

Not like he’d check anyway. Silly — that’s what it felt like — sneaking in and out of where you lived and making alibi’s. That happens in movies, not marriages.

The lady bows, nodding with your request. She’s not sure what the tension between you were, she’s noticed since you first moved in — newlyweds don’t act or treat each other the way you both do. Is that her business, though? It is not.

“Alrighty,” She sends a warm smile. “I know today’s a rough day. I hate funerals.”

Unaware how to respond, who would even like funerals? All you could muster up was another nod, another small and forced smile, and a wave as you left.

As you exited the entrance, watching your car pull up to escort you to your family home — you’re met with another car, Ichiji to be specific, honking his normal pattern to alert Satoru that he was outside and not waiting fifteen minutes for him again.

With wide eyes, wanting to avoid the man at all costs after the situation last night, you clutch your purse to your chest and run as fast as you could, strapped heels, to your awaiting vehicle. Even with the smallest steps, bag held to your chest to control the movement of your bust and to keep a hold on your purse; the scene was pitiful.

Walk… or Run of Shame to your own vehicle? With nothing to be shameful of? What the hell was this marriage?

Once you were settled in your car, huffing out a breath and tugging your seatbelt on, you prayed and thanked the gods before you that you hadn’t bumped into Gojo, and he hadn’t seen that embarrassing scene.

All the while, your husband had been watching from his window on his side of the house. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, finding the whole thing silly. If you were avoiding him or running late, he wasn’t sure where you were headed, but wherever it was; you must’ve been in a rush.

Cute. He’s been noticing that adjective popping up in his mind whenever he saw you. Even when you didn’t see him catching a glance — he was always watching.

Cute; when you walked into your shared kitchen and spotted your husband with a towel wrapped around his waist, the back of muscles flexing all the scars he had littered on them. He’s never seen you so red..

Cute; whenever you wake up while wiping your eyes, walking diagonally to the bathroom and almost running into the wall.. every morning.

Cute; the way you softened and eased when he arrived as your knight and shining armor around Geto; saving you from the fear of being humiliated in front of your students.

Whatever was in the water, he wanted it out; fast. He has too much going on, has a promise to fulfill and children to look after. He’s gotta try and save his best friend from doing a horrible mistake — and protect Japan of the upcoming war Suguru declared. He doesn’t have time to fall in love with the woman he married.. however that sounded to a persons ear.

But he can care, right? He can care, he can find the things you do cute. Just, not too often. And there goes that honking again — Ichiji! The man’s having a moment here!

You’ve never been to funeral.

The way your clan works, there weren’t funerals unless it was for the head of clans and unfortunately, you weren’t alive when the originator died. Whenever a female baby was born, then unfortunately put to their deaths, they would simply be buried by a guard in a random landfill spot in town.

You’re convinced your mother was only being granted a funeral because she gave birth to another five bearer — two at that. Because she was lucky enough to have kept both kids and died from her condition.

As the people who never spoke to your mother or even cared to check on her condition, only worrying about Ryou and how he’ll become the successor of the clan… they’d take the stand and speak up about her amazing life and how much of an amazing mother she was.

You’ve only seen five percent of the people attending this funeral, and there were over three hundred.

“An amazing healer she was. She healed my son’s foot after our yearly baseball game, the home run Ryou threw was quite the ball.”

“Ryou, I know it must’ve been hard to see and hear about your mothers passing while traveling.”

“Son, your father will teach you what your mother couldn’t finish. All you need is family.”

“My heart aches for you, Ryou.”

Was it mentioned that Ryou Shio sat next to you, his sister, who’s in between her father and brother — front row as if he’s watching a hockey game.. sucking up all the attention?

You quiver. Ryou never even visited your mother while she was sick, only on the yearly athletics. It made you ill knowing he was the only child receiving condolences when you were the one picking your mother off the floor and escorting her to the bathroom. You were the one braiding her hair when she couldn’t do yours or her own anymore. You were bathing and feeding her.

You.

No matter how much she used her healing sorcery and technique, it was never enough — it would never heal her.

Once your third brothers wife’s cousin, who didn’t even know your given name was Shio, cried about the loss of your mother and how extremely broken Ryou Shio must be, it was your turn — the final speech — to lay your mother to rest once and for all.

“Hello,” You clear your throat, catching everyone’s attention. They weren’t amused, they weren’t as shocked as they were when your twin brother was up here speaking. But that’s okay, because this wasn’t about you, or your bother — just your mother. “Thank you all for attending. I’m Y/N.. Gojo, maiden Shio, and Himari Shio was my mother.”

That got everyone’s attention for sure. There was only one Gojo known.. Satoru Gojo. Six eyes. The propaganda— the man everyone wanted to meet, see, touch and maybe even more.

“My mother wasn’t physically the strongest. She’s never trained or fought… she stayed home with me. Nonetheless, she’s stronger than anyone else here.”

The way the faces turned at you. Some scowls, some head turns and a few with genuine confusion on your statement.

“She might not have fought physically, but she definitely fought for me. I could’ve ended up dead, just like some of your daughters are.. but I’m not.”

“She fought for her children unlike any of you did. That makes her strong, makes you weak. Me, the child that should’ve died, I’m going to battle my brother; whether I die or not. Why? Cause my mother trained me not to quit. Trained me to keep my hair tied up because I always needed to be ready to fight.”

“Trained me by hiding my toys around the house and making me able to scope out places that no one would think of — or show me places people would think of. Trained me by purposely asking for things on the other side of our estate, making me run so my stamina could build. My mother did that after fighting for her daughters life. She’s the strongest while all of you… you’re weak.”

“Y/N!” Your father stands, making up for both Ryou’s hard expression and his very own.

“You’re pathetic,”

Next Ryou stood tall as if he could give a shit about his mother to begin with. “Y/N?!”

“And my mother deserved better than this excuse of a clan.. created by someone who couldn’t get it up in the first place.”

The gasps filled the room like music— and it was a song you’d love to hear on repeat. You’ve got some nerve, you know you do.. but you could care less. Just months until your fight and whether you win or lose, you wouldn’t want to have any regrets to begin with.

Like clockwork, your father stormed up the steps and onto the platform, aiming right for you. All you could do was tilt your head, placing both hands on your hips and await for what was next.

“You’ve lost your mind,” You’ve heard that before. Maybe a few screws did go loose. He’s got a deathly grip on your arm, immediately stopping blood circulation in your vessels. He tugs you forward, causing you to stumble on your heels. “You want to be scattered with Himari? I’ll sprinkle your ass right with her.”

Even though his words were low, eyes could read lips like a book if interested enough. “Be careful now,” You match his volume, moving closer to his ear — to the audience, it looks like a hug. “Won’t win ‘daddy of the year’ if you’re abusing your kids publicly.”

As much as Sousuke despises you and the fact your breathing, you have a point. He releases the grip on your arm and sends you another warning look before stepping away to the microphone.

“My deepest apologies for my daughters behavior. She’s handling this pretty rough considering her relationship with Himari,” Sousuke’s putting on a show. Revealing grieving eyes and a painful stare. “The service will start in a few minutes, please meet us out there.”

As the people sitting in their seats stand to make way outside, your father catches glimpse of a figure walking dangerously close and moves like the speed of light, holding an arm out to block your brother.

“You just had to make it about you, huh?” Ryou’s held back by your fathers burly arm, who’s trying to calm him down and beckon him to just leave it alone.

You shrugged, keeping a bored and unamused expression on your face. “That’s rich coming from you,” You almost chuckle. “Considering no one’s here for my mother, and only to see you in the flesh.”

“Sounds like jealousy.”

You roll your eyes. Yeah, you were definitely jealous — it was the whole reason you were going through with the battle. Did your brother have to know that? No, he didn’t.

Sousuke drops his arm from your brother, though he kept an eye on both of you. Considering the tension between you both, he was afraid the fight would start earlier than it should’ve. And from your expression alone — he’s sure he’d be watching a fight and not you just getting your ass handled.

You wouldn’t allow it to go any further. You’ve said your peace, and the only thing really binding you with your family was your mother. Now that she was gone, and this was about putting her to rest — you didn’t have to be here anymore. Didn’t have to talk to your family for anymore arrangements or asking to speak to your mother.

In a way, just a slim way, you were free. Just like her.

A small chuckle left your lips as you clasped your hands behind your back. “I’ll make everything easy, I’ll go. I just ask for one more thing.. after, you won’t have to speak to me until the fight,”

“Keep me some of her ashes. I’d want to sprinkle them at our lake.”

You’ve never had one of these before.

The last time you almost downed an alcoholic beverage, your mother ended passing out. You’ve never had the time to enjoy alcohol, either. Taking care of your mother, wedding planning, funeral planning — and hey, even planning your own death!

(Lmao.)

“Drink the whole thing. If you sip it, you’ll hate it.”

And you’ve taken that advice too literal. Now you’re several shots in, this new foreign feeling giving you pure euphoria. You’ve got a small smile on your face, resting your jaw in your palm, babbling to your bartender.

“I can.. I can shoot water from my nipples too!” A small giggle leaves your lips, using your free hand to point at your breasts. “F’you wanna see, I… I can show you.”

“Ah, no! It’s alright!” He chuckles back, making a mental note to cut you off. He can’t ignore the little grin on your face, eyes fluttered closed with your cheeks burning a faint red. You were cute. “Can I see your phone?”

Normally, you’d say no. But the fact he’s even asking for your phone makes you giggle even more than you were before and you’re sliding your device over to be bartender who’s served you an amazing selection of fruity beverages.

Normally, you’d be thinking: What the fuck? Absolutely not! Asking for my phone to put a tracker on it or something? Creeper.

Instead, you’re thinking: That’s so funny! A bartender asking for my phone.. this isn’t T-Mobile! Silly bartender, bartender so silly.

He accepts, triple clicking your phone for your emergency contacts. The first number he calls, the phone goes straight to voicemail. It then tells him the number has been turned off, and though it confuses him — he goes to the next number.

Ring.

“What’s wrong?”

The sudden question catches the bartender off guard, nonetheless, he clears his throat cautiously. “Hello, Is this Mr. Gojo?” Earning a hum in return. “I have… what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Pour me ‘nother.. one of those sweet thingies. Want sugar on my cup this time, no salt puhlease.”

“Your name.”

“Mm.. Shio!”

There’s no point trying to get anything else out of you, nonetheless, he relays the message back to the man on the phone.

“I have… Shio here. She’s had a lot to drink. She walked here, and she’s offering a few things I’m sure she’s not supposed to.”

There’s a soft breath on the other line before he speaks up. “Thank you. Could you send me the location? I’ll be there a few.”

And as requested, the bartender does.

Within 10 minutes of the call, there’s a jingle at the door, revealing at six foot man in his work uniform. Ivory hair falling past his cerulean blue eyes. He scoped out the room until his eyes fell on you.

He’s made his way over, leaning against the bar until your flutter your eyes open, your mascara catching under your eyes. Whether you were crying or sweating, it makes his heart pang. He wants to comfort you, hold you and tell you it’s okay — but he doesn’t even know why you were sad today.

Doesn’t even know where you were.

He doesn’t know anything going on with you anymore. Himari’s not here to tell him, knowing you wouldn’t, so now he’s in the dark.

Either way, he wants to get you home.

“You.. mm, hi.” You sit up in your seat, trying to fix your hair subconsciously. His gaze wasn’t intimidating— it wasn’t scary, but you still wanted to make sure you looked nice for him.

All for him.

“Hi.” Satoru responds, squatting down to the ground. He looks up at your from his position, sending you his thousand dollar smile. “Havin’ fun?”

You’re peering down at him, nodding quickly to his answer. “Sleepy.”

He chuckles, shooting up from the ground. He grabs your hand gently, intertwining his fingers with yours. He could coo at the size difference, but he’s gotta keep it together. He’s got to get you home and in bed.

“Thank you, bud,” Gojo bows slightly to the bartender, who returns it. He pulls a big bill from his back pocket, and he’s sure enough it’ll cover everything you had and even slip in a tip, tossing it over to the bar.

“I’m gonna go lock the door, stay right there.”

Of course you wouldn’t. You dropped your stupid, wobbly heels and made your way to the kitchen. You knew you wouldn’t be able to jump on the kitchen island, so you opted to crawling up on it.

You were sure you looked trashy. Black dress riding up as you struggled to get up on countertop, but you could care less right now. You felt great. Warm, happy — free.

Once you were settled, you caught sight of your husband. He’s got his hands covering his eyes, waiting for you to give him the ‘okay!’ to drop them. He probably caught glimpse of your ass, considering you were just on display.

And the cute smile on his lips as if he’s seen underwear for the first time.

The image makes you giggle, shaking your head at him. “M’all covered now,” Gojo drops his hands cautiously, making his way over to you at a comfortable distance. “You could’ve looked f’you wanted. You’re my husband~.”

Now it was Gojo’s turn to turn red. Sure, he’s looked at you in dresses, or those tight jeans you wear to the school.. but imaging you in your underwear? God, he feels like a pervert.

He shakes his head. “You’re only sayin’ that cause you’ve been drinking,” He nods his head over to your side of the estate. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“M’serious,” You extended your leg, attempting to pull him forward. “I.. I wouldn’t mind. But I don’t think you’d want to. S’okay, I jus’.. Don’t care if you look or stuff like that.”

Now his curiosity is piqued. He tilts his head, ignoring your little attempts to pull him forward. “You don’t think I’d want to? What’s that mean?”

You shrug your shoulders, a natural yet drunk pout on your lips. “Y’don’t let me touch you,” You hold your hands out, palms facing him. “I’ve only touched you during the wedding. You always have the.. thing on. But you let other people touch’ya. I know we’re not as close, but, ‘dunno. Guess I was thinkin’ I could too.”

“You wanna touch me?”

Nodding yes, please. Maybe it was the liquid courage, maybe it was the recent thoughts you’ve had. You’ve wanted to touch your husband badly. A hug, a kiss, even if it was a shove, you wouldn’t have minded.

There’s just something intimate about being able to touch someone without feeling uncomfortable, or untrustworthy to the point where your frying your brain just so they wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on you.

You didn’t think you were that bad.

There’s something Gojo can’t miss in your eyes. If he travels away from the intoxication and the sadness.. there’s something else. He wants to see it without the other two— therefore, he doesn’t look too deep.

But he’s caught a glimpse of where your mind wonders.

In return, he raises his palms to yours, leveling himself until you were skin to skin. He watches your eyes widen and soften within seconds. Your hands cup around his wrists, and up his arms. With the little strength you have left, you pull him forward more, until he was between your legs.

Really close.. that’s what he was. You thought you were dreaming for a moment. He smelled sweet yet so masculine, like a woody caramel.

Your hands raise cautiously to his jaw before pulling them away, covering your hand over your mouth. “M’sorry,” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes together until it was painful. “That’s too much. Sorry—”

“I didn’t say stop, did I?”

Gojo knows he’s playing a dangerous game. There’s a slim chance you’ll remember this in the morning, and even if you did — so what? After the day he’s had today, what he’s witnessed alone.. it put a lot on him. And for some strange reason.. all he wanted to do was see you.

Hear your voice, even if it was from an argument.

See you smile, even if it wasn’t for him.

With his invitation, he watched you sit up like a child being offered candy before dinner. Your small hands cupped his cheeks, squishing them together and giggling at the way his glossy, pink lips puckered.

He’s got the prettiest lips.

You wish part of you didn’t hate him. You wanted to know why he married you — you wanted to know why he cared so much yet so little. You wanted to know the relationship he had with your mother — who Suguru Getou was and why he was so stressed out lately.

You wanted to know a lot, you wanted to know too little.

You were tired.

Gojo felt your hands drop from his face and watched the excitement fall from your eyes as he countered this moment over. Even for the few minuets you enjoyed roaming his skin and exploring something you never had, he loved every second.

You look down to your legs, “Sleepy.”

He clicks his tongue, laughing gently at your small words. “Let’s get you to bed then, hm?”

His large palms scoop under your thighs and pops you up into your chest. Your legs wrapped around him stomach cautiously, your head resting against chest once your arms laid over his shoulders.

Satoru made sure his steps were calculated and slow, just to keep you in his arms a few seconds longer — and to enjoy this moment just a little bit more. Come the morning, this would all be a dream to you.. and be his reality.

💭: @torufilms @luckimoon @itxtoyll @96jnie @goldfishesarecute @clreamon @creolequeen11210 @michikoyuu @patchi-chi @chieeeeeee @parkchanyeol-kr @shadowarchon @willowsversion @whoreforfictionalmen18 @weebotaku21 @regalillegal @rahhhhhrs @luckimoon @chuurroo @xiaosie @nonoiix @gh0stwish @ayatoru @zohraaa @dazailover1900 0 @tookiostqr @catoru-s @justwinterlights @kash2 @lightblueexorcist t @tuzuis4thwife @nakachuchu @96jnie @clreamon @emissaire @vernasce-blogs @tsukifv @michikoyuu @oi-loverboy @holeyahsama @sanzuandmikey @vynlover27 @mnoaeiu @ginger0322 @prettyroxy @softiebadbitch @planetmarz @sugurugetosbitch @immikasasgf @reiners-milkbiddies @bebetiny

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elena-mayfair · 1 year

Text

Fears

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, unsettling images, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: He wanted her to trust him, he wanted to reveal the darkest depths of her mind, he wanted to explore her fear, he wanted to take it away from her, use it and exploit it. But the dance between nightmare and dream, between care and torture was a delicate art requiring careful movements. In the end, he didn't want to break her, on the contrary, he wanted to fix her. Liberate her. And perhaps in the process satisfy his own desires. Word count: 8k Note: Gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

Y/N could remember very well the time when she was a young girl, full of hope, full of joy, full of hopes and dreams. She remembered vividly all the teenage fantasies she used to dream, all the plans she used to make, all the goals she wanted to pursue. She could retrieve from memory every single part of her adult life that she had imagined, clearly as if those dreams had never left her. She never wished for much, never wanted too much, all she desired was a peaceful, warm, happy life. A loving husband, two sons, a house with a white picket fence, a loving family, a simple sweet apple life. Just as vividly as she remembered all her teenage fantasies she recalled the pain of disappointment when all her dreams crumbled into nothing, the bitterness with which she lived with every day. For Y/N's life quickly turned out to be quite different from what she wished it had been.

As a young girl she created in her mind an image of her future self. A strong woman with a smile on her face and a kind heart. Drawing inspiration from strong fictional characters who, despite hardships and adversity, always maintained a cheerful and good nature, this is how she wanted to be. Yet she had not assumed that one day she would become one of them, the pain and trauma they had to deal with included. Not much remained of that hopeful young girl, only a realized image of her own fantasies now devoided of the beauty and warmth she so desperately longed for. Kind but cautious, sincere but reserved, who loved life but walked through it completely alone, she began to realize more and more how broken she really was. How much each successive blow she received from life seemed to be the one that would tip the cup of bitterness and push her over the edge. And yet, balancing on the edge of resignation, she kept on clinging to life. She kept looking for wonders in the dark corners of everyday life, searching for joy in the midst of anger and disappointment, trusting as she pushed aside fear and prejudice, she continued to smile, even though more often than not her smile was stained with contempt.

And yet on that evening, when she was with him, she smiled. She genuinely smiled. That evening her eyes shone as before, her voice was soft as before, that evening for the first time in a very long time, she just felt herself, she felt normal. As if for a fleeting moment, her dreams were revived once more. It was a beautiful moment, fleeting, ethereal, which like a lovely dream came and went, leaving only the reality. And even though she knew she had no reason to, Y/N felt sad, broken. How could she feel sad when she had spent a wonderful time in the company of a fantastic man? How could she feel sad when that man made plans for the future in which he included her. How could she feel sad when the future seemed bright and exciting.

Yet she knew well that just as little happiness had befallen her in the past, there was little chance that happiness would befall her in the future. After all, why should the future be any different? Why should she cling to delusional hope?

She knew these moods all too well, days like this came without warning, out of the blue. Days in which she couldn't smile, couldn't sing, couldn't pretend, and yet she did. She would go to work with a smile on her face, at work productively she would always be full of energy, always close to her colleagues, always bright, always determined and focused. Her mask fitted her face perfectly well. Long ago she had learned to answer a concerned question about her well-being with a nonchalant, "I'm fine, just tired, didn't sleep very well." Long ago she learned to disguise her anger with a smile. That in this case, there is no point in being honest, after all, people didn't care. After all, she was always alone in the end anyway.

"Why do you insist that you can handle all this alone?" Jonathan sat comfortably in an armchair and observed as you tried to avoid the subject through cooking, "we were making such good progress and now over the course of a day you take not two, but ten steps back and shut down completely."

"I'm not shutting down!" you denied, "there's just nothing to talk about!"

"You know I completely disagree with that. You would have to be blind not to notice how withdrawn you are."

"Hey, I didn't invite you here to give me another psychoanalysis!" you turned on your heel angrily threatening him with a spatula, "I wanted to take my mind off all this, not talk about it."

"I don't even know what you mean by all this," he pointed out calmly, "as your…"

"I thought we were no longer contracted therapist-patient agreement," you snarled.

"As your friend, I'm worried," he finished in a stern yet gentle voice.

"There's no reason! Sometimes I just have these moments, it will pass!" shifting your focus away, you angrily stirred the pot, "They come just like that, for no reason. Some trivial trigger that opens all my carefully sealed boxes and bad memories and negative emotions pour out one by one," the words flew out nervously, "I don't need therapy! I need a friend who will take my mind off all this! I can handle the rest on my own. I just need some time to lock them up again…" Jonathan's hand rested on yours stopping your frantic movements. You didn't even hear him approaching. You looked at him, into his intensive green eyes that revealed understanding and concern.

"It is no achievement to box up negative emotions and experiences and shove them deep into the back of your mind," he began as his eyes shone intensely, "the trick is to eliminate those boxes. To free the mind from pain and fear. To take control of the fear."

"Do you have any magic drug that will do that?" you smirked.

"I may have one," he replied, "but it won't work if you don't talk to me."

Jonathan turned off the gas under the pot, took both your hands and pulled you to sit with him for a moment. You knew well what he was getting at, yet you couldn't say no to those mesmerizing green eyes. In all the chaos you've been experiencing over the past few weeks, it was he who was always there when you needed him, like an anchor that held you safely to the ground. He answered every phone call, came whenever you needed him, listened, understood, and wanted to help you. Without knowing when Jonathan Crane went from being an unwanted therapist to a very wanted… "friend?".

"If you're about to say something among the lines you have to open up and trust me, you can't hold it all in because it will eat you up from the inside then spare me please," you started before he could say anything, "let's have dinner watch a movie and just have a nice time. Since you're not my therapist, in the literal sense of the word, please do what I want for once!" Jonathan merely tightened his hands on yours as if he was trying to stop your rush of thoughts.

"Y/N you need help. And even though you know this you make it much more complicated than it needs to be," the green of his eyes seemed to darken along with the tone of his voice, "It's really quite straightforward. You've got…well…" he paused as if picking the right words, "let's be honest. You've got issues. Major issues."

"I've asked you…" you tried to interrupt him, get up, walk away, serve dinner. You couldn't. His hands were clenched tightly on yours and his green eyes were hypnotizing.

"The only way we can even begin to resolve them is through therapy. Intensive therapy," he affirmed in a calm voice and added, "unless you don't want to get better?" you remained silent. "But of course you do…"

"I'm doing perfectly fine!" you attempted a confident tone.

"Do you now?" he didn't believe you, "Tell me. How can you possibly be fine after everything that happened to you?"

"Head up, chest forward and always keep fighting!" you smiled cockily.

"How long?"

"As long as it takes. Until I collapse."

Jonathan let go of your hands and moved away a little staring at you intently. Some part of you wanted to use this moment and run away, to break the tension that hung in the air, to get away from him as his close presence made your confidence vanish with each passing second. Despite this, you stayed. Even though his hands let go, he still had a pull on you, without saying anything, by simply being close.

"You see life as a struggle," he began after a brief reflection, "you said it yourself. Always keep fighting, until you collapse. You're an intelligent woman, tell me, is this how it supposed to be?"

"Maybe not, but we have no control over what Destiny has planned for us."

"You think everything that happened to you is destiny? Everything that has happened to you since you came to Gotham not to mention the things you stubbornly refuse to talk about. Do you really think it's destiny?"

"That's the way I see it," you began, aware that you won't be able to escape this conversation, "Destiny deals the cards of fate, looks at what he has on hand and throws it. To one Destiny gives happiness, to another wealth, to yet another fame, to someone else love, then he reaches for the cards of trauma, pain, and suffering. Destiny looks at them for a moment, then throws them to those who have already been dealt them in the past and are still standing. Throws them to them because he knows they can handle it."

"Fascinating that you talk about destiny as if it were conscious being capable of making decisions. Even more fascinating how you see and perceive the events in your life," the intense green of his eyes shone with sheer fascination, "there may be a bit of truth in what you say. I am a psychiatrist, not a philosopher. However, I dare say there is something else, equally important, that you are overlooking."

"What's that?

"Choice," one word, spoken in a low half-whisper, pierced you to the core, "your choice. The choices you make when faced with adversity. The choices you made that led you to where you are now. It wasn't Destiny that told you to come to Gotham, it was your own choice. You chose to work at Wayne Tech, you chose to sign up with me for counseling, you chose to renew contact with Harleen, you chose to drive the car off the bridge, you chose to confront Harleen at Amusement Mile, you chose every single day to get up, lift your head high, smile and keep going. Destiny, if you want to include it, may have laid out the paths of fate before you, but it was you who chose to walk them," as he spoke gazing into your eyes intensely a single tear broke free and ran down your cheek in a silvery trail. "So now I, not destiny, present you with a choice. Will you choose to continue to abuse yourself and stubbornly refuse the help I want to give you, or will you be brave enough to take the hand I extend to you and let me guide you through your fear."

"Jonathan…" your voice trembled as you tried to answer. You didn't have to. With the back of his fingers Jonathan gently wiped a tear from your cheek and gazed deeply into your eyes as if trying to reach your subconsciousness. Emotions took over you. You didn't fall apart with tears. Even though his words struck straight to your heart you did not allow yourself to cry, crying was personal, could see it. Instead, you moved closer to him, curled your legs up, and cuddled into his side as he put his arm around your shoulders. "Alright, let's do this…" you whispered into his chest, "whatever you think is right. I trust you."

"Do you now?" he asked quietly while brushing your shoulder. Snuggled into his chest, with your eyes closed, you couldn't see the satisfied smile fading over his face.

"I do…" you murmured, "I don't know why. You know very well that I'm rather cautious when it comes to people. The last time I trusted someone…." you sighed heavily, "you know…"

"Don't try to sabotage yourself justifying it with bad experiences," his low smokey voice sounded from deep within sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, "don't let fear control your actions."

"Choices…."

"Choices indeed…" his fingers moved in a soothing rhythm over your bare skin, "if you let me, I'll teach you how to control fear, how to use it and turn it into a weapon more powerful than all others. All you have to do is let me."

"Over the past weeks, you showed me more support than anyone else…" the warmth of his body was so pleasant, so soothing. Even though a part of you screamed that you shouldn't, you wanted, craved this closeness, didn't want it to vanish. "I can't remember the last time…" you paused.

"Stop that…" he whispered and wrapped his arms around you tighter, "we'll take care of all this tomorrow."

***

Tomorrow came. It came and brought with it worries and doubts. Just the previous evening everything seemed so simple and you were so determined. After the evening full of fascinating conversations about all kinds of topics and the movie you watched together, you felt wonderful. You haven't brought up the subject of therapy again, for which you were grateful to him. You didn't feel uncomfortable even though you had spent well over an hour, silently listening to the calm beating of his heart. He didn't seem bothered either. Not so long ago he had been Doctor Crane, a psychiatrist whose persistent piercing gaze made you want to run as far away as possible, now he was….

"Who?" you wondered once again as you walked down the quiet city streets. You couldn't find the right word. Somehow "friend" didn't seem like the right one. You quickly chose not to think about it any longer. Too much was going on. Too many events occurred one after another. You couldn't think about it because if you started, you would have to start thinking about everything else. "I jumped in front of the pointed gun. I met not one, not two, but five vigilantes! Harleen lost her mind. Batman promised to help her. Why was Jonathan in Arkham? Batman also asked me to trust him! I'm flying with Bruce fucking Wayne to Metropolis!" thoughts and events on which you should reflect flashed through your mind one after another. "At that rate I'm gonna lose my fucking mind by the end of the year!" You pushed them all aside. You had neither the mental strength nor the desire to process them all. "Just go with the flow," you decided.

That evening the city was supremely quiet, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Gotham was somehow hearing you and adapting to you. As if it was whispering "let it go…", as if it was tempting "take what I give you…". A gentle wind swept over your face bringing a pleasant autumn chill, the empty streets murmured with the quiet hum of life giving rhythm to your steps. And yet, despite the all-pervading calm and gentleness, an eerie feeling kept returning time and again. A strange tingling in the back of your neck as you changed direction, a feeling of tension as you turned down a side street, everywhere you looked there was peacefulness, yet you felt uneasy. Stealthily glancing over your shoulder, you tried to spot movement, in vain. Friend or foe? Safety or danger? You briefly clenched your hand on the tiny bat-shaped transmitter hidden deep in your pocket. Would he really show up? If you pressed a small button, if you were in real danger, would he save you? How long would it be before he jumped off one of the roofs, before the shadow of his flowing cape covered the light of the setting moon? Or was he already here? Maybe that tingling sensation on the back of your neck was his own watchful eyes following your every move? Or maybe it was just a delusional hope. A fantasy of a Dark Knight who would save you from danger.

You let the transmitter out of your hand and sped up your step. Friend or foe one thing was certain, in Gotham the shadows had eyes, watchful eyes, peering at you from hiding, tracking your every move, your every step…watching over you. You smiled to yourself and decided to accept the new feeling. It felt good.

Jonathan anxiously counted down the minutes until Y/N's arrival, minutes that seemed to pass unbearably slowly. He counted down each one of them as he listened for footsteps on the stairs, eagerly anticipating the sound of a soft knock on the door, looking forward to the moment when she would finally appear here in his office. For here came the opportunity he had been waiting for for a very long time, which came to him on its own, reluctantly asking for help, offering his complete trust in return, and he could take advantage of it. For weeks he had been working to convince her to finally trust him, for her to give herself to him, to surrender her mind to his control, and it seemed to him that today was the day. Exhilaration pulsed through his veins as he once again inspected the tiny pressurized container attached to the oxygen mask, the small vials that were about to be filled with blood, the strap fastenings he might need, as well as the cream-colored envelope discreetly tucked aside. The envelope intended as a reward if she was good, if she obeyed him, a temptation of sorts. For he knew full well that in order to maintain a good relationship with Y/N, he had to preserve a perfect balance. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted to reveal the darkest depths of her mind, he wanted to explore her fear, he wanted to take it away from her, use it and exploit it. But the dance between nightmare and dream, between care and torture was a delicate art requiring careful movements. In the end, he didn't want to break her, on the contrary, he wanted to fix her. Liberate her. And perhaps in the process satisfy his own desires.

A quiet knock finally sounded, and before he had time to answer, Y/N entered his office. She was smiling as always, but doubt lingered in her eyes, fear already nestled beneath the surface of seeming fearlessness. "Good…" he decided, "now all that needs to be done is to amplify it."

"You're here, finally," he greeted her with a hug, "I was worried that you would change your mind and not come," empathy, she expected empathy and care, so that's what he had to give her.

"I'll be honest if it had been anyone else but you I would probably have told him to go fuck himself," she sassed with a grin letting him take off her jacket, "what's all of this?!" observant as ever, she hadn't even had a chance to enter the office properly and had already noticed the changes in her surroundings.

"I had to make some adjustments," he kept his tone of voice calm and controlled. Although he wanted with all his heart to push her onto the bed and let his desires finally take over, he knew he couldn't. It was a dance. "We talked about it. I used the word intensive therapy for a reason," he surrounded her with his arm gently urging her to come inside. He was so close, he couldn't let her back out now.

"That looks creepy…" she looked at the bed, at the prepared empty vials, at the leather straps hanging loosely at its sides, fear clearly affected her face, "I don't know if that's such a good idea…."

"But I do," he tried to discreetly tug her closer, " we've talked about this. I understand your hesitation, but it's the only way."

"When we talked about this I thought you meant stronger drugs and conversations from which you would not let me escape, no…" she frowned, "whatever the fuck this is!"

He was losing her. Instead of following the impulse he decided to operate cautiously, decided that he wanted not only to satisfy his desires but also to really help her, and now he was losing her. The more he steered her toward the bed the more she resisted, the more he pressed the more she retreated. He couldn't let her go. Thinking little, he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him, forcing her to sit down with him. He sat close, very close, the scent of jasmine dawned on him as her hair waved with a sudden movement. He took hold of her other hand, as if accidentally brushing her exposed knee in the process, and looked deeply into her eyes. She liked it, he knew it and used it.

"I won't let you back down," he lowered his tone of voice and she trembled slightly, "we talked, we tried to talk. It doesn't work and you know it. There are topics, areas of your life you don't want to talk about. You stubbornly refuse to do so. There are also ones you claim you don't remember," for a moment she tried to slip away from him but he wouldn't let her. He could see that she felt uncomfortable. He could see that she wanted to escape. He was too close to let her do that. He only tightened his hands over hers forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me! If you can't make the choice yourself, I'll do it for you. If you don't care about your own well-being, the fact that I care will have to be enough!"

"Just give me a moment alright? Is not that easy."

"I know you're scared. And rightly so. I won't lie to you, it won't be a pleasant experience. But I promise you that I will guide you through your fears and nightmares. I will take your fear from you, and free you from it," that was his plan, "do you trust me?"

She nodded. Even though he saw fear and uncertainty in her eyes, he would not give her the opportunity to object. He got to know her, he understood her, and he was sure that this was what she desired. Although she presented herself as strong and independent, in reality she wanted to trust him, wanted to be subject to him, wanted for someone to take control, to take the decision out of her hands.

"Alright…" he smiled dimly, "then take off your dress," he instructed, "we need to connect the heart monitor."

It was a pleasure to watch her succumb to him. As she freed her hands from his, she pulled off her shoes, then her tights, and finally unzipped her dress and let the black material slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor. He didn't look away, but neither did she ask him to.

"What now?" she asked, standing in front of him in the silk chemise. To his surprise, he saw no shame in her eyes, only quiet determination. She felt safe with him. His plan was working.

"Lie down comfortably and try to relax," he instructed, standing up and turning on the oxygen pump.

"What are these straps for?" she asked, musing apprehensively on the loose pieces of leather hanging on the sides of the bed.

"I do not know what your reaction will be," he explained, "it is for your safety."

"My reaction to what?"

"We'll start with a small dose," he adjusted the valve altering the flow, "we'll increase it if necessary."

"Dose of what?" she asked, "you won't give me pills as usual?"

"The time for pills has passed. You can take them at home to balance your anxiety," he put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to lie down. "No more questions. Now it's my turn," he put the oxygen mask to her face and smiled, "breathe….breathe deep. Let it into your system. Let it take control of you. Let me see your fear."

You ran. You ran forward. You ran blindly. You didn't look back. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your lungs were burning with fire, and yet you ran. Your bare feet echoed on the cold white floor, blood pulsed in your ears, your head spun, yet you didn't stop. You kept running.

"Stop her!!!" you heard from afar.

Steps. In the distance, behind you. Heavy. Threatening. Quick. They ran after you. They were chasing you.

"Don't let her get away!!!"

Your muscles were burning but you didn't stop. They were getting closer.

"What do you see?" a low throaty voice ripped through the surroundings, louder than anything else, coming out of nowhere and everywhere at once, "tell me what you see!" he ordered. The voice caused you pain. Intrusive. It wanted to invade the reality around you. "Tell me!" it demanded. You pressed your hands tighter to your ears.

"I can't… Can't answer him. I must not…"

The footsteps came closer. Kneeling on the floor, you pressed your hands with all your strength and yet you could hear the clang of metal, the click of safety pins being unlocked, heavy gasps, the clatter of chains.

"There she is!!! Stop her!!!"

You struggled to get back up, supporting your hands on your knees. They were getting closer. You had to get up, you had to move. You had to run.

"Tell me what you see!" the voice demanded once again.

"No!!!" you shouted desperately breaking through the sound of heavy boots, through your own heartbeat, through the intruding voice. You smashed the white tiles on the walls, smashed the floor under your knees, smashed the light, time and space.

Nothingness.

Endless darkness.

Emptiness.

"What are you afraid of?" the same grave voice came from the void, "tell me your fears. What are you running away from? Where are you running to?"

You fell. Into nothingness, between time and space, between fear and desire. You were falling into the abyss of nightmares.

"There is no way out of here…"

You closed your eyes. Darkness enveloped you, blissful darkness, silence.

"I can't…I won't…"

"Oh now, don't be so stubborn. I'll take it from you whether you let me or not."

"No, you won't!"

You opened your eyes. The void was gone. You found your feet resting on the ground again. Confused for a moment, you looked around at your surroundings.

"It can't be...no…"

The dark brown rug under your feet bore the marks of your shoes. Mud, grit, dust, ginger cat hair. You should vacuum it, but there was no time for that. Yellow warm light brightened the hallway, the hallway you knew so well. The brown old-fashioned wainscoting on the wall, the light brown furniture, the big mirror that, although it had fallen off the wall several times, never shattered. You took a few steps, carefully, reluctantly and the smell struck your senses, a smell you hated. Sweat, the sour stench of acid, the stuffiness of an unventilated apartment, the stench of death.

"Where are you?" the voice asked, "who will you see when you enter the next room? A dying father? Or perhaps a mother? Is that what you are afraid of? Of death? Oh, how cliche."

"I'm not afraid of death," you growled answering him for the first time.

"Then what haunts you? Sickness? Pain? Loss? Who left you? Abandonment issues? Did you look after someone? Who did you let down?"

An unknown force pushed you toward the bedroom, a bedroom that you remembered all too well.

"You must face your fear," the voice pressed, "show me your fear."

"Fuck you!"

You turned around sharply and pushed with all your strength against the thrusting force. It resisted. It wanted to push you deeper into the nightmare. You clenched your teeth, dug your heels into the floor and, straining all your muscles, broke through the force. You grabbed the door handle and fell out into the hallway. A hallway that should have been in colors of gray and green. And yet, once again you got blinded by the white.

"You resist, not good…" Jonathan watched as she winced and thrashed on the bed. Fear, pain, despair painting on her face. Although her eyes were wide open, she could not see him, she was too far gone. She stared into space in terror as tears ran from her open eyes. "Beautiful…" he wiped a tear from her cheek and pressed it to his lips. The bitter saltiness tingled pleasantly on his lips. He was ecstatic. Fear was delightful but she needed a little more. He opened the valve and pressed the mask to her face again.

"Give me your fear."

Whiteness surrounded you again. Cold, raw, menacing. The white light illuminated your face, hurting your eyes, blinding you, hiding everything beyond.

"I don't understand why you tried to escape," someone's voice came from the shadows, "after all, you signed yourself up for this. Why would you want to escape now. We want to help you."

They wanted to hurt you. You knew it. You yanked hard but someone's hands held you down.

Jonathan ran his hand over her exposed shoulders, over the blemished pulsing veins that seemed to shimmer green against the glistening skin. Slowly, as if he wanted to memorize and learn each and every one of them. He secured the leather strap on both wrists then led his hands slowly up. He paused at the hollow of her hand, gently wet it with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, then pierced the vein with a small needle. Red blood rushed in a rapid flow, through the plastic tube, straight into a bag attached next to the bed. She moaned as the tears ran down her cheeks again. But he did not stop. He ran his hand higher. Over her neck, over her delicate skin, over her inflamed cheeks then stopped for a moment staring into her wide-open terrified eyes only to follow the trail of sweat down with his fingers and stop his hand on her firm breast, listen to the pounding of her desperately beating heart.

"Give in."

"There is no way out," you tried to struggle but couldn't. An unknown force tied your arms and legs, you couldn't move, "when we're done with you you'll thank us. You will be stronger than ever. Nothing will stop you. You will be my greatest creation."

"I am no one's creation! I am myself!" you shouted fiercely.

"Not anymore," the man replied but you couldn't see his face, the light blinded you mercilessly, "the moment you signed the papers you became our property. My property! I can do whatever I like with you. Notch, cut, test, modify until I deem you finished. Until I consider my work finished."

"I won't let you!"

"And what will you do!" a sneer tore the silence, "You have no power here! You belong to me! My…"

"My property."

"No…" you wept.

"Give me your fear."

"No!"

"Stop resisting. Why are you fighting with me. Let go. Let me take it from you. Show me…."

You closed your eyes and when you opened them again the reality around you changed once more. The cool sun brightened the blue sky, and the singing of birds, the smell of fresh grass and blooming flowers brought the first signs of an awakening spring. The smell of flowers…

Lilies…

The world took shape. The ground trembled and parted, and marble and granite emerged from between the bushes and grasses. One by one they shot to the surface of the earth, bringing with them the smell of earth, of loss, of emptiness. In the distance, candles flickered under two spreading yew trees, with a bright twinkling glow. They called out to you.

"Who lies there?" a voice broke through the chirping of birds, "Why don't you go over there? What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want to."

"Who have you lost? Who has abandoned you?"

Staring still at the flickering candlelight, you took two steps back. The light came closer.

"You have to look. You have to show me."

"I won't…" you whispered in a trembling voice.

"You have no power here. You belong to me. You will do as I say."

"No, I won't..."

"Why are you resisting? Why do you refuse? Don't you know that the path of freedom leads through pain and fear?" the voice seems to have softened, as if to urge you to submission, "Let me help you. I can set you free. Free you from dread and fear. Take it away from you. You will never be afraid again. Never again will you feel that feeling that paralyzes your body and mind taking control of you," he tempted.

"We need to feel fear," you replied finding the remnants of confidence within you, "fear is essential. Fear is a natural part of human existence, without it we would be broken, defective."

"Don't resist…"

"It's not an achievement to get rid of fear, to stop feeling it," you raised your head high, "it's not admirable," you took a confident step forward, toward the tombstone, toward the flickering candles, "it's not inspiring," you sped up, "it's nothing to be fucking proud of!"

"You're wrong…"

"The real power is to take control of your fear!" you could see the shimmering golden letters against the marble gray, "to know it, understand it, and control it! Not to get rid of it! Not to let it control you! True strength is to fight despite fear! To fight along with fear! To never give up! Always keep fighting!"

"You're wrong. I will prove it to you. Give me your fear."

Before your eyes could read the golden inscription on the marble stone you turned sharply and with burning fierceness threw into space.

"You cannot have my fear!!!"

She woke up. She blinked, and her conscious gaze returned to her eyes. The fear was gone, what remained was exhaustion and confusion. He knelt down beside her bed and began to undo the straps. He said nothing. The blood bag had long been hidden. The toxin pump turned off. He only left a small vial of blood in plain sight, a check of hormone levels, as he planned to explain later. He freed her one hand, then the other, and helped her up.

"Are you okay?" he asked caringly, at least that's what he hoped.

"I am…" she replied and the same fierceness lit up in her eyes, "what happened?"

"You had a strong reaction, I had to tie you up so you wouldn't hurt yourself," he explained taking her hand and gently massaging her wrist. "I would like you to tell me all about what you saw. You were crying and screaming. I can only imagine what you might have experienced."

"My biggest nightmares…" she whispered staring into his eyes. There was something different about her, something changed. All traces of fear and anxiety were gone, in her eyes burned strength and anger.

"Tell me about it," he insisted.

"Not now, not today," she refused then looked at him again, "I don't want to be alone today. Can I sleep at your place?"

"Of course, Whatever you need."

Two hours later she fell asleep peacefully cuddled in his arms.

***

The night was deep and dark when you suddenly woke up. The nightmares that just a few hours ago you saw with your waking eyes now returned in your sleep, more intense than before. Even though there was no voice demanding for you to give your fear to him, even though there was no force pushing you deeper into the nightmare, you were more afraid than before. In the dream, you wandered over the marble monument with the golden letters once again, but this time you took the time to read them. You fell to your knees and pain tore at your heart, tore at your soul, tears ran uncontrollably down your cheeks and then you woke up. Your fevered mind could not register reality for a moment. The dark bedroom did not look like yours, the bedding did not smell like yours, and the pillow on which your head rested rose up and down in a calm rhythm. Jonathan was lying on his back with one arm embracing your shoulder as he slept deeply. You looked at him for a moment, at the sharp features of his face, at the defined jawline shaved smooth, at his dark brown hair, at the firm muscles hidden beneath his plain black t-shirt. So calm, so handsome, so caring and yet….

It only took a moment for your thoughts to start slipping away. A few hours of sleep cleared away the initial exhaustion, bringing new strength, new restlessness, and anger. When you asked him a few hours ago if you could sleep at his place you didn't think much. You didn't question your actions, you didn't question your choices, you didn't wonder, you simply didn't want to be alone. But when the shock wore off, when the terror passed away when you regained some of your strength you discovered that you wanted to be anywhere but here. This was not right.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and off his bed. Quietly you dressed, tied up your messy hair, threw your jacket over your shoulders and walked out into the dark cool night, leaving only a short note on the kitchen table.

I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you up. I'll be in touch.

The cold night air awakened your face and your thoughts. Even though the watch on your phone indicated three o'clock in the morning the city was awake, after all, Gotham never slept. Someone was always going somewhere, someone was always coming back from somewhere, someone was always just wandering the night streets. You didn't care. You had only one thought in your head.

The first stop turned out to be a 24-hour store. A pack of cigarettes and two cups of coffee, one white and the other black were all you bought. You ignored the taunts of the guy behind you, ignored the slimy smile of the cashier, you paid and walked away with a confident pace.

The white corridor. A hospital gown. Escape. Soldiers.

You lit a cigarette. Thick biting smoke filled your lungs making you slightly dizzy. It had been years since you had last smoked, yet that night you decided to forgive yourself for this little stumble. You walked ahead.

Family home. Dirty rug. The smell of sweat, acid, the smell of….

You inhaled deeply, ignoring the burning sensation in your throat. You closed your eyes as if to push the images away from your mind. You did not slow your step.

The blinding light. Helplessness. Lack of control. Pain.

Gotham Bay loomed in the distance. The breach in the bridge's railings, still unrepaired, was becoming more and more visible. But this time you headed in the opposite direction, towards the tall building overlooking the place. Carefully, wary of spilling your coffee, you climbed the closed fire escape stairs and made your way up.

Cemetery. Marble gravestone. The smell of lilies.

You choked on smoke as you climbed another floor. You weren't particularly athletic, and the old habit didn't help in getting up to the roof. You pushed away another thought focusing on your breathing and conquering the last steps. Finally, Gotham appeared to your eyes in its majestic beauty, twinkling with a million lights, like an endless ocean of stars in a black sky. You sighed in awe, lit another cigarette and pressed the tiny transmitter hidden deep in your pocket.

Time passed. Minutes, tens of minutes, you couldn't tell, you didn't care. You stared at the glow of flickering lights on the horizon, listened to the quiet whisper of the city, letting the breeze from the bay sweep over your face, taking your cares and worries with it. Before doubt had time to invade your mind, the air suddenly changed, as if electrified, when the soft sound of a falling cloak announced his arrival.

"You came…" you whispered without looking at him.

"You called," a low murmur brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Are you alright?"

"I honestly don't know…" you answered when Batman stood next to you. He didn't look at you, instead he gazed into space as you did. "I brought you coffee," you smiled innocently handing him a cup, "black cos you seem to me like the type who despise cream and sugar. I'm afraid it's gotten a little cold by now."

"What are you doing on the roof in the middle of the night?" he asked, accepting the paper cup from you.

"I'm thinking…"

"On the roof?"

"I suppose you do that quite often," you smirked, "and no wonder. Gotham is so beautiful from up high. So peaceful."

"That's true…" he agreed quietly and added after a moment, "when I gave you the transmitter, I was clear that it was so you could call me if you were in danger."

"Do you define danger only as a state of physical threat?" you asked glancing at him, "I honestly didn't think you would show up."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know…" you took a sip of coffee, "judging by your appearance you probably have more important things on your mind," you pointed out the dirt on his face and his suit.

"I gave you a transmitter for a reason."

"I know…" you whispered.

You both were silent, staring at the ocean of lights and stars. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye trying to read his reactions but he only calmly sipped his coffee. He waited. Perhaps initially angry that you had called him for seemingly no reason, he now seemed to understand that the reason was hidden deep inside you, that he was the one you wanted to talk to.

"Do you ever get scared, Batman?" you finally asked but seeing his surprised look you added, "you do what you do, putting yourself out there in danger, do you ever get scared?" your eyes met like so many times before and once again he seemed to be weighing the words in his mind, thinking over what to answer.

"All the time…" he replied after a brief reflection.

"How do you do that? How do you do what you do? How do you prevent fear from taking control of you?" the questions came one after another, " back then when you pulled me out of the water…." you searched for the right words, "I was a complete stranger to you. And yet you pulled me out of the sinking car. Why?"

"And why did you jump in front of the gun that Harley was aiming at Robin?" the question came from deep inside.

"Because it was the right thing to do," you answered almost immediately, "but this is different. It was an impulse! I was reacting to the situation!

"If you were to do it again?"

"I would do exactly the same thing!" you replied with confidence, "but you do it every night! You knowingly put yourself in danger…" you took a step forward closing the distance between you and looked into the eyes hidden beneath the mask, "tell me why, please. I need this."

Tension hung in the air. Standing just a step away from him, you were sure he saw the quiet despair in your eyes, the simmering questions, the traces of fading fear. You were sure he saw it all as you did, a shadow of worry flitting across his stoic face, a flash of blue in the black of his eyes when his mask fell a little as he spoke in a low husky tone.

"Because I made promises," he began, "because I swore that I would do my best to protect those who could not protect themselves. That no…" he hesitated. The mask broke for a moment, revealing the man hidden beneath it, a man who had feelings, a man who hid pain, who was afraid. "Because I swore," he finished.

"And yet you say you feel fear."

"I do," he admitted, "so do you…"

"Hey, I climbed up on the roof to talk to the Dark Knight!" you chuckled "fear becomes a relative term!" however, you became serious upon seeing his stern eyes. "I'm sorry. It was stupid…" you reached into your pocket and pulled out your cigarettes. You lit one, inhaled the smoke and closed your eyes relishing the feeling. "I don't usually smoke," you explained, "I quit years ago. Its just...today I decided that I could forgive myself for this bit of weakness."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"You're right…" you continued your previous thought ignoring his question, "I do feel scared. But not because of what has happened since I arrived in Gotham. I'm not afraid of the Joker, let alone Harley…" you paused acknowledging the name you used as you spoke of her, "no…. that's not what I'm afraid of. My fears…they came here with me. Even though I was hoping to leave them behind."

"The past has a habit of following us wherever we go…"

"Someone recently told me to let go of my fears, to give them up…" images broke into your mind again, "if someone told you that they could take away your fear," you turned to him again, "take it away from you, make you never feel fear again, would you let them?"

Once again silence fell between the two of you. Yet this time Batman was not analyzing his answer but your question. So strange, and yet so sincere.

"I wouldn't…" he finally replied, "Giving away your fear to someone, even if it was possible, would mean giving away the force that motivates you to action. Fear, if you let it, can be a paralyzing force, can be the thing that sabotages your every move, your every plan. But if you take control of it, it can become one of the strongest forces driving your actions. It's all a matter of choice."

"Choice…" you repeated quietly.

"It always comes down to the choices we make. Do we let it control us, or do we control it. I wouldn't give my choice to someone else. "

"Neither would I….neither would I…"

***

Chapter nine: Dreams - part one

***

Author note: The choices were made... right? I'm very curious to see your reaction, hope you will enjoy it? Enjoy it's such a bad word here. But I've decided to focus heavily on Crane this chapter, and I wasn't exactly planning to exactly that route, but that is where the story lead. I don't usually question it. I allow the story to lead me, not the other way around. Next chapter will be much lighter in tone, but I can't help it, I do like my dark stories. Anyways, as always, thank you for all your responses! I tagged those who asked to be tagged. Sorry for not replying, it is truly a mirricle that this chapter came to be today. I had a busy two weeks. At the end, as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~ Tag list:@clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke

108 notes · View notes

lumelii · 11 months

Text

hi ho! it's been a while. but i come bearing a gift. hope you like it!

word count: 3.3k

content warning: slightly nsfw at the end, a whole lot of angst, bullying (?)

Let me know if i missed any tags. Thanks as always to Moni @karamfilmare for being my beta.

Why won’t the ringing stop?

You were sure her name had been given as she was introduced to you, but the words did not register over the incessant peal which started as soon as you saw her with Yuuji across the room. You didn’t need her name though. Yuko Ozawa, the daughter of an old friend of Mr. Nanami’s from Oxford College. She and her father were staying with the Nanamis while her father attended to business in London, though this was the first time you had seen her out in public. From what you understood, her family lived in genteel poverty somewhere in the countryside, not enough money to spend the social season in London.

Your cousin’s hand on your arm was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling as you stared at Yuuji and Yuko. The look was plain on his face as he watched her. His lazy smile, the soft crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his gaze sparkled and wouldn’t be ripped from hers even if a fire broke out in the Gojo’s grand ballroom.

You must have been taking too long to respond to her introduction, not able to even curtsy without the fear of falling on your face. Ichika stepped in, curtsying deeply enough to support you as well as you did your best attempt to maintain some sense of decorum.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ozawa.” Ichika smiled brightly from the corner of your eye. The grip of her hand tightened slightly, a silent prompt.

“A pleasure.” You parroted emotionlessly.

“The pleasure is mine. Mr. Itadori speaks highly of your family.” Yuko’s smile was kind. It didn’t make you hate her any less.

“I’m sure more than we deserve, he is complementary to a fault.” Ichika gave Yuuji a teasing look.

“You surely jest, Lady Okkotsu. I only give credit where credit is due.” His eyes went to your cousin only for a moment to smirk before he focused his attention back to Yuko.

The ring in your ears dulled slightly, enough for you to finally take in the woman before you instead of only looking at Yuuji. Her hair was simple, curled at the sides similarly to yours and tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck, though she had no adornments in her hair nor at her neck or ears. Her dress was of a quality far beyond what her family could afford, and you recognized it immediately.

“What a lovely dress.” You commented, right in the middle of whatever Yuko was saying to your cousin. The other three members of your small circle turned to you, a range of confused expressions on their faces at your interruption.

Yuko recovered exceptionally well, smiling politely as she looked at the skirt. “Thank you. I didn’t have anything suitable for tonight since it was such short notice. Mrs. Nanami leant me one of her dresses.”

You knew this already. The style was slightly older, but not enough to be outdated. The dress itself was hard to forget, however. Monica Nanami had worn the dress during another party at the Gojo residence in London many years ago. The white muslin gown gathered just below the bust, the light, flowy skirts skimming the floor. The overskirt was intricately embroidered at the edges in gold and multi-colored thread which matched the embroidery along the vee neckline and edges of the bodice. The women at the party had fawned over the wearable piece of art the whole night, and Monica had given every opportunity to praise her husband and his taste. Mr. Nanami’s ears had turned permanently red from all the attention, both from the women at the party and from husbands who gave him a good-natured ribbing for making the rest of them look subpar. It had been a fun, intimate night. You had wondered if one day, Yuuji would do the same for you when you married. If you would married.

That dream was disappearing faster with every second Yuuji looked at Yuko with all the adoration in the world.

“How fortunate then, your stay with the Nanami family.” You took a small drink from your lemonade glass, watching her over the rim.

Her smile became confused but she hid it as best she could. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She looked at Yuuji. He gave her a reassuring smile and looked at you, his brow slightly furrowed, a question in his eyes. You were behaving erratically, you knew this. But you just didn’t care anymore. It was clear your goal, why you had agreed to this flirtatious farce with Megumi Fushiguro, why you sacrificed your own beliefs for the mere chance Yuuji Itadori might notice you, was for naught.

You were never even a consideration to him. Now, your pain would be everyone else’s.

“They take great pride in their charity work.” You continued. “Though your father must have known that, reaching out to such an old friend for help.”

“(Y/N).” Ichika murmured your name as a warning. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t allow yourself to cry, and your anger needed a release. A barbed tongue was your only option.

“Mr. Nanami wouldn’t dare refuse. And how fortunate that he brought his young, unattached daughter with him knowing Nanami’s son would be in town for the season.” You pushed onward, even as Yuko’s face crumbled. “You must have known Mr. Itadori is the heir of his own fortune.” You made a point of looking between Yuuji and Yuko, then up and down at her dress. “Why else would you base yourself enough to wear another woman’s gown, if not to capitalize on the opportunity of a ball to sink your hooks into someone so far above your station?”

The unmasked pain you had caused in Yuko’s eyes should have made you feel something. But it didn’t. You wanted her to hurt. She was living what you had always wanted. What years of pining and waiting had never dimmed. Yet she came into town, and within weeks Yuuji was at her beckon call. You hated it. You hated yourself. Why had you never realized your feelings would never be reciprocated? Why now was it necessary for this innocent girl to suffer? This pain could not be leashed.

“That’s enough, Miss (l/n).” Yuuji hissed. His eyes flashed with an anger you had never seen before as he glared at you. But you found it was not as devastating as it would have been five minutes ago. Let him feel the pain you felt as well, seeing his love hurt. He should have been aware of your desire. You didn’t try to hide it. Yet it was never even addressed. You didn’t mean enough for even an acknowledgment.

Yuko forced a stiff smile and curtsied, murmuring an apology before she practically sprinted away. Yuuji didn’t give you a second look as he chased after her, which made the chasm in your chest widen further.

“What is wrong with you, (y/n)?” Ichika demanded once they were both gone. Her eyes were hard as well, though her expression could have been interpreted as genuine concern. “You’re not cruel, what was that about? You don’t even know Miss Ozawa.”

Her grip was still on your arm. It was too tight. The room was too hot. Your heart in your chest was pounding too hard. And the tears you had been fighting back since Yuuji and Yuko approached you seemed to be coming one way or another.

You wrenched yourself free from her grasp and ran out of the room. The entire house felt too cramped, though it was one of the largest in the city. You found the patio doors and pushed your way outside running into the garden to find a secluded spot.

The fresh air should have improved your breathing, but as you finally found a secluded alcove your gasping only grew worse. You had never felt this kind of pain before. You were young when your mother died. You hardly remembered her face, let alone her voice. The grief you may have felt as a child had been forgotten with time as time blunted whatever pain you experienced. If it was anything like the hurt that currently clawed through your chest, you were glad you didn’t remember.

As a slight breeze blew through the garden, you realized that at some point in your solitude, you had begun to cry. You wipes furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin, but more took their place. Your gasps had turned to sobs, so forceful you bent over and braced your arms on the stone bench in front of you. Your tears stained the cool limestone beneath your hands as you failed to stop the emotions pouring out of you. You were not like this, you weren’t emotional. You thought you were in control of yourself, but events from earlier and your current outburst proved otherwise.

Had you been wrong all along? Had you confused Yuuji’s kindness as possible interest on your part? You had thought with time, maybe he would see you as more than his friend’s cousin and would pursue you as the other men in the ton had. You had ignored them all for him, and when he did not show his affection you became desperate enough to enter this farce with Megumi Fushiguro. But was it a farce? Megumi, though distant, had shown he cared in his own way throughout your arrangement. Was he interested in truly courting you? And why was it that a small part of you wished he was? You clutched your head in your hands. No. You couldn’t think of this now. That couldn’t be a possibility. Megumi made it clear your arrangement was purely for gain. And you loved Yuuji, you would have him.

“Y/N.”

You looked to the entrance of your little alcove. Megumi stood there, his face obscured by the darkness. The sight of him made you tears begin anew. He was only a reminder of what you had done and how it was all seemingly for naught. You wiped furiously at your cheeks to rid them of the wet tracks on your skin but they were replaced with new ones. You would not allow Megumi to see you cry.

“Not now, please not now.” You sobbed. “Leave me be.”

“What happened?” He stepped further into the small garden. “Are you well?”

“No!” You shouted. “I’m obviously not well! Now why don’t you go back inside and leave me to crumble in solitude instead of reveling in it?”

His face was infuriatingly passive as always, and you could see every inch of it now in the moonlight. Something about it set a change in you, and your sorrow morphed into anger.

“So, are you satisfied?” You straightened to face him, your chin held high. “You were right. My plan didn’t work. Yuuji is now seemingly completely and utterly enamored with Miss Ozawa. He does not desire my company. And now, all my work is for naught and my reputation will be ruined.”

“I do not enjoy seeing you in pain, Miss (l/n).” Megumi’s face still did not change. He could at least pretend to care, but he did not. He never did.

“Oh, I am sure you do not!” You laughed mirthlessly. “You have only been telling me this whole time to set my hopes aside because Yuuji did not want me, that this plan was ridiculous, that it would never work. Well, you were right. Enjoy your victory and leave me in peace!”

“What victory?” He stepped closer so he was only feet away. He was angry now, you could see it in the way his brow was drawn and the hard set of his jaw. His green eyes sparked dangerously as speared you with his gaze. “Do you think I revel in this?”

“Yes! You were right, I was wrong. And I hate it!” The words were bubbling inside you, just as they had in the ballroom, and you couldn’t stop them even though you weren’t entirely sure you meant them, but you were hurting and you wanted someone else to hurt too. “I hate you!”

“Do you?” He moved closer, crowding your space even as you stepped back until you were almost chest to chest. If you breathed too deeply, your bosom would brush against the lapels of his jacket. Your breath quickened to prevent any part of you touching him. The look in his eyes was dangerous, challenging as a cruel smile spread across his face. You were grateful for it. You didn’t want his pity. You wanted a release to this anger, and you knew he could provide it. “Please, Miss (l/n), enlighten me. Why do you hate me?”

“I hate how you never smile. I hate how you act like you’re above any social interaction and avoid everyone at all costs. I hate how you pretend you dislike something I know you truly enjoy so as not to give someone the satisfaction that they know something about you. I hate how you look someone up and down and you give them that indolent smile like you know something oh so devious and they’ll never know it, because who could ever be as clever or even compare to the great Megumi Fushiguro?” You spat.

“Is that so?” Your chests were touching now after he stepped forward, but you would not back down. He had tried to hold the upper hand this whole arrangement, but no longer. There was nothing left for you to lose. You had already lost Yuuji, though did you ever really have him in the first place? The thought caused the gaping hole in your chest to widen, the pain renewed. You could not hold onto this. It needed an outlet, and it stood before you.

“It is!” You yelled in his face though he did not flinch.

“Good.” Before you could blink, his large hands were cupping your face, his fingers lacing through your hair. You barely registered the intimacy of his touch because a breath later, he surged forward and planted a kiss harshly on your lips.

You started at his touch and his brazen action. Even if you were to attempt to retreat his arm has already encircled you, keeping you held to him as his lips commanded your own. But you didn’t want to pull back

It was the events of the night, you were sure of it. There was no other reason why your arms had found their way around his neck encouraging him. You were hurting, his touch filled the gaping hole in your chest just a little more. To know someone wanted your affection, or at least your touch. You were desirable. Why didn’t Yuuji see that?

You’re lying. A small voice inside you crowed as Megumi slanted his mouth over yours, deeping your kiss after the placement of your arms around him showed you weren’t resisting his advances. This wasn’t just because you were hurting, that you needed another’s touch. You had found yourself wondering over the past several weeks as you spent more and more time with the dark-haired man who was now running his tongue along your bottom lip, what it would feel like to touch him, to kiss him. To have this arrangement between you be truthful, rather than a ruse to spur your true target into action. What would it be like for Megumi to hold your hand and smile, to send you flowers sincerely instead of keeping up appearances? Was there even a possibility that he felt that way? As his tongue explored your mouth and you reciprocated in kind, albeit clumsily, maybe it could be true.

This feeling was different. There was a coiling deep in your belly, growing tighter as Megumi’s large hand covered one of your breasts and gently squeezed, finding your nipple through the layers of fabric and teasing until it was a hard nub. You gasped against his mouth at the jolt of pleasure that shot to your core and arched into his touch. This was wrong. You were with a man unchaperoned in the dimly-lit gardens. He was touching you inappropriately, and yet you wanted more. This was an extraordinary sensation, one you never would have thought would come at the hands of Megumi. Why was he expressing such outright desire when you were certain he tolerated you at best?

When Megumi’s hand left your breast you almost whimpered at the loss. It traveled lower down your body, tracing your silhouette over your dress, squeezing any soft place it landed until it was finally behind your knee. You wondered what he was planning, why would his hands stray so far down? It was then he hoisted your leg up so it was around his waist and you were balancing on your other foot. You gasped at your sudden unsteadiness and clung to him more tightly to prevent from falling. Megumi had no time to spare. He attacked your mouth again, commanding your lips for only a brief moment before he broke away again and started kissing down your neck. A whine escaped from you while he sucked on your pulse point then licked up the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin.

“Megumi.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you moaned his name. His head snapped up at the explicit sound, green eyes flashing with a fire that matched the one growing in your stomach. The prospect of what burns that fire could cause almost scared you. Almost.

A loud crash caused you both to look over to the entrance of your small hideaway, still clinging to each other like monkeys. You couldn’t bear to let go yet. One of the small statues flanking the arched hedge entrance had fallen, its head broken off as it hit the ground. It was the force which caused the statue to fall in the first place that made you and Megumi both start in horror.

Yuuji stood at the entrance, his hand outstretched like he had tried to stop it from falling but had been too late. His eyes, however, were fixed on the pair of you and your sordid embrace. You wished you could discern the expression on his face. Shock, obviously. But there was something else behind his eyes. You didn't have a further opportunity for study as he had turned and was running back the way he came before you had finished your breath.

“Yuuji!” Megumi had released you and started running after him, pausing just for a moment to raise his hand in a ‘wait’ sign to you, and he was gone as well.

You didn’t allow yourself to wait. You couldn’t. Realization was setting coldly into your bones now at what you had done and what the repercussions would be if anyone were to find out. You were ruined. What would become of you now? Your uncle and aunt had graciously taken you in and treated you like one of their own to give you the opportunity of a life you never would have never been offered, had you lived with your father. And now, you had taken their generosity and spat on it. Their investment in you was now for naught.

Your hands shook as you smoothed your hair just enough to be presentable before you ran out of the gardens, around the house and to the carriages waiting out front. People would speak of your absence. It was certain their tongues were already wagging at your outburst against Yuko in the ballroom, but it didn’t matter. All you cared about was getting back home and hiding, Maybe then, you would wake up and find this was all a cruel dream.

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