#happy endings r hard with infidelity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Ivy & Stone, Chapter Four: Back In The Garden

pairing: victorian au!frankie morales x reader, victorian era!javi g x reader

chapter rating: E (18+ ONLY, secret relationships, class dynamics, period-realistic gender dynamics, infidelity, descriptions of panic/anxiety, one mention of infertility, oral (fem receiving), unprotected piv, angsty-ish/happy-ish ending?)

word count: 5.3k

series masterlist

“Mr. Morales,” Lady Elizabeth called out for Francisco as he stood inside of the estate’s greenhouse, tending to the Lady’s deeply cherished and highly finicky orchid collection.

Autumn rain drizzled against the glass windows, creating a rhythm that had nearly pulled him into a trance, not that it had been difficult for him to get lost in a daydream as of late. His mind was always elsewhere, wondering what Florence was doing, if she was happy, if she was thinking of him just as constantly as he thought of her.

Every night when he looked up at the stars and moon, he liked to imagine she was also still awake, watching them and thinking of all the fleeting moments of pure bliss they shared. And on the nights he missed her so much that he could feel it in his bones, his eyes would take pity on him and paint the image of her face upon the moon, always smiling down at him, reassuring him that her heart was still just his.

“M’lady,” he bowed as he realized someone had spoken his name, halting his task and setting his watering canister down onto the wooden countertop. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to arrange a bouquet of flowers—I think my daughter likes violets—“

“Roses,” he corrected without thinking, the woman’s brows only creasing in curiosity. “Lady Florence always requested roses, m’lady.”

“Ah…roses then,” she shrugged as she walked over to one of the bright purple orchids and smelled it. “I will also be needing your assistance in the lord’s library later this week. It seems a few shelves had collapsed.”

“Of course, m’lady.” Francisco suddenly realized the implications of her request for flowers, his heart racing with a reckless sort of hope, one that could easily have crushed him if he’d been let down. Knowing that he couldn’t outright ask if Florence was coming back to the country, he quickly thought up a clever way to find the answer without stirring suspicion. “I could tend to the library later tonight, if you wish.”

“No, no.” The lady turned to him and shook her head with a small, rare smile. “My daughter is returning this eve. I do not wish for her arrival to be met with the sound of hammering.”

“Of course,” he nodded, using every last ounce of his strength to not crack a smile at the knowledge that tonight, even if he wouldn’t yet have the privilege of properly reuniting with his love, he’d have the comfort of knowing that she was here. “I will go gather the bouquet, then.”

“Thank you for your constant hard work, Mr. Morales,” the typically cold lady of the house surprised him with a bit of appreciation, stunning Francisco. “I am not as vocal about my appreciation as my husband, but I assure you, your good work and loyalty to my family has not gone unnoticed. I haven’t discussed it with my husband, but I believe a raise in your wages has been more than earned.”

“Thank you, m’lady—“

“In return, I trust whatever is going on between you and my daughter will end promptly.” Francisco felt his heart drop to his feet as the beautiful and posh woman only half a decade older than himself stared at him with a piercing knowingness. “I do not wish to know the extent of your affair, but I ask you—“ She shook her head and sighed. “No, I beg you…allow her to find someone that she can create a life with. A life she deserves.”

“That is all I want,” he whispered, too afraid of her to speak at full volume or address the fact that asking him to spend his life without Florence in it felt like sending him to the gallows.

“Yes…that is until you see it with your own eyes.” The lady bowed her head a bit, a smug look on her face as she eyed him up and down. “Be sure to have the bouquet ready before four o’clock, Mr. Morales.”

He watched as she walked out, draping her shawl over her hair as she walked through the garden in the drizzle, her posture straight and chin lifted high. Francisco, however, had all but fallen into the wooden chair behind him, his head falling into his hands as he considered his options. Should he warn Florence about her mother’s awareness? Should he avoid her altogether? What if this was Lady Elizabeth’s way of letting him know her daughter had already found someone capable of giving her a decent life?

With his heart threatening to give out on him, his mind spinning so fast he came down with a case of motion sickness, Francisco rushed out of the greenhouse and stood in the cold rain, not caring about the cold he’d likely catch as a result. As he allowed the rain to pour over him, he wondered what had brought Florence back to him so soon after leaving. She wasn’t supposed to be in the country again until late January and it was still only November.

“Mr. Frankie!” A young Leonardo came sprinting towards Francisco as he stood there, cleansing himself of his anxiety as best as he could. “Have you heard? My sister is coming back home!”

“Yes…your mother told me.” Francisco opened his eyes, looking down at the young teenager who had just barely blossomed into something more mature than a little boy. Leonardo held his umbrella tight, shielding himself from the rain, while he looked up to Francisco with hopeful eyes. “Are you excited?”

“Anxious is a better word,” he replied with a nervous chuckle, taking the umbrella handle from the young lord and holding it so it covered both of them. “It’s been two months since I’ve seen her. I…worry things may have changed on her part.”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything,” the young boy offered, walking back into the greenhouse with the gardener. “Surely she feels the same, Mr. Frankie. Or perhaps even more so! Perhaps that’s why she’s come home early in the first place.”

“Yes,” he replied, tone laced with downtrodden skepticism. “Perhaps.”

Miss Florence and her elder brother Benjamin sat in one of their family’s carriages, a few hours from the Bell Manor in the English countryside. It was a gloomy day outside, rain pattering on top of the wooden and iron roof, the country fields looking bleak and hazy, nearly disappearing in the distance.

“I haven’t seen the country like this in years,” Florence noted as she stared out the window.

“You always talk so fondly of the country,” Benjamin replied, puffing on his pipe. “And yet it’s beauty doesn’t seem to strike you now.”

“It’s still beautiful, it’s just…not as I remember it.” Florence looked down at her lap with a pit in her stomach, her guilt making her feel nauseous.

“Are you alright, sister?” Benjamin asked with a crease in his brow.

“Yes, yes, just…” She paused for a moment, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people simultaneously? To not favor one over the other?”

“I hardly believe it’s possible to truly be in love with just one person,” he chuckled before focusing his eyes on her melancholic expression. “Have I been blind so far, sister? Have I missed you falling for not one suitor, but two?”

“No—“ She shook her head quickly. “It was only a thought.”

“As you say,” he chided before puffing his pipe again.

In an effort to distract her mind, Florence pulled out a sketchbook she had recently purchased along with a few charcoal pencils. Benjamin raised an eyebrow at his sister, having never seen her draw before.

“A new hobby, I take it.” Florence’s eyes shot up from the half-finished sketch of Frankie’s cabin. “All that time with Lord Javier seems to be taking affect on you.”

“Meaning?” She snapped, embarrassed that he’d picked up on their flirtations.

“Meaning he’s an artist. They love to spoil the mind of reason with all their creativity and…passion.”

“You sound like mother,” she commented with a groan.

“And you sound defensive.” She rolled her eyes at his accusation. “There’s no shame in finding love. Even I have fallen into something of the sort.”

“You?” She asked with a chuckle of disbelief.

“Yes, me.” He scoffed.

“Well, who is the jewel who managed to catch your wandering eye?” She prodded, happy for the focus to have switched to him.

“Do you remember Lady Maribel?” He spoke with a softness that could only be attributed to a budding fondness at the thought of her existence.

“Of course. Lord Javier’s cousin.”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I’ve grown quite fond of her. I’ve been taking chaperoned walks with her every morning as of late.”

“Where have I been during this budding romance?” She grinned, amused by her the thought of her typically cavalier brother swept up away in love.

“Yes, where have you been, sister?” He challenged with a smirk and an eyebrow raise. “Lost in fantasy?”

“Ridiculous,” she denied swiftly, turning her eyes back to her sketch. “What is there to fantasize about in town? Societal collapse?”

“Or becoming the viscountess?” He quipped again, enjoying the red flush on her face as she pretended not to hear him. “You may have not set out on falling in love at court, but it seems to have found you regardless.”

Florence sat with a sick stomach as she let his words simmer in the air.

Love indeed had found her in the most unlikely of places. She wouldn’t deny that to herself any longer. The only thing she needed to come to terms with now was the fact that she was also in love with Frankie—that had never changed.

A man may have been afforded the luxury of keeping two women at the same time, neither woman having enough independence or power to object to the arrangement, but she was no man. She was simply a young woman of noble birth, meaning that her entire existence revolves around finding an equally noble man and providing him with heirs.

But what if that wasn’t what she wanted from this life? What if all she wanted was to experience love, desire, joy…freedom? What if all she wanted to do was to be able to love who she loved when she loved them? To love the worldly painter and the humble gardener? To build a life with the adventurous artist who filled her with excitement and passion, and the good-hearted servant who fulfilled her and understood her so deeply she wondered if he’d found a way to inspect her heart without her knowing?

Though she knew this world in which she had the autonomy to choose such a life was simply a fantasy, but she ached for it. If she had to make a decision, she was afraid she’d choose wrong. No matter what side. To choose passion and adventure would take her away from the solid roots she’d grown deep into the earth of the countryside. To choose humility and peace would tear her away from her family, from her country, from her birthright.

No matter the choice, she’d be a loser in the end.

“God, the country is so bleak,” Mr. Seaworth groaned in disgust as he looked outside the living carriage, the fog and drizzle bringing a rare scowl to his typically jovial face. “To think that anyone would choose to live out here.”

“It’s not the place for men like us,” Javi commented, his brows furrowed as he worked on a sketch of Florence that he planned on giving her as a token of his affections, the inspiration being his point of view when she stepped into the ballroom the last time he’d seen her. The night she captivated not only Javi, but every other man in London.

“Us? Seems as though your priorities have shifted,” Mr. Seaworth noted with a smirk, looking to Lady Maribel who sat beside Javi. “Javi seems to be quite smitten with the Lady Bell.”

“Yes, he’s a man with good taste,” she shot an encouraging smile her cousin’s way, her eyes falling to the sketch. “She’s quite beautiful.”

“And that’s the least interesting thing about her,” Javi added, lifting his eyes to stare ahead at Mr. Seaworth, challenging him to make another comment. “Regardless of my love life, I can assure you, dear friend, I won’t be moving to the country.”

“You say that now,” he quirked an eyebrow and stifled his smirk with his pipe, lighting the end of it and taking a few quick puffs before speaking again. “Truthfully, the minute you agree to marry her, she will bend you to her will.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Lady Maribel chimed in. “Perhaps her will is the wiser of the two.”

“Perhaps,” Javi conceded with a nod. “Though I don’t imagine Florence wanting to stay out here forever. She’s too…curious. About lice, about art, about the world. I’d quite like to take her to Spain—to my home.”

“Well, to do that, you’d have to marry her,” Mr. Seaworth commented under his breath, earning a glare from his best friend.

“That is the plan,” Javi confirmed his intentions, much to the shock of his two companions.

“You’re proposing?” Lady Maribel asked with a giddy smile. Javi blushed as he turned to her, nodding with a bashful smile.

“I’m quite sure she’s what I’ve been searching for all this time. More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.” Javi sucked in a sharp inhale, keeping his grin on as he exhaled and turned back to his drawing.

“Are you sure? Don’t you wonder what kept her so averse to marriage in the first place?” Mr. Seaworth questioned, clearly unwilling to let the topic die peacefully.

“What do you mean?” Javi asked, not bothering to look up at the playwright.

“I mean to say…perhaps she’s unfit for marriage,” he suggested with a shrug, the implications of his words finally earning the attention of the viscount-heir. “I mean no offense of course, she’s a beauty, no doubt, but…perhaps there are things she’s withheld from you purposefully.”

“Speak clearly, Seaworth,” Javi demanded, his smile now long gone.

“Perhaps the reason she was adverse to marriage is because she can’t fulfill her marital duties—providing you with heirs…someone to carry on the Gutiérrez name.”

“Remember yourself, my dear friend,” Javi warned in a rare display of intimidation. The painter was usually a rather timid man, but it was clear Mr. Seaworth had struck possibly the only bad nerve Javi had. “Do not dare speak such unfounded speculations to anyone else or else I’ll make sure your theater never fills another seat again.”

Mr. Seaworth’s remorse was written clearly on his round face, his mumbled apologies satisfying Javi’s ego, the small amount that remained from his noble birth. But, he could not deny that his friend’s speculation had found it’s way into his mind, nestling in the most anxious place it could find, filling him with unnecessary concern for the future. It wasn’t an heir he cared about, truthfully, but more so his lack of knowledge on her past.

Who was she before she met him? She’d mentioned she had tasted desire and craved more of it…who was responsible for stirring such feelings within her? Was he still around? Did he still hold that same weight over her?

Whoever he was, Javi hoped he knew how lucky he was to have tasted even just a bit of Florence’s beauty. The Lord himself might strike Javi down for idol worship if he knew the lengths the painter would go to be presented with the same opportunity.

Frankie stood outside the manor with the rest of the servants, everyone dressed in clean uniforms as they awaited the arrival of the beloved Miss Florence. Though Frankie stood amongst the help, he couldn’t help but feel like an outcasted member of the family, what with Lady Elizabeth shooting him daggers every time he dared to look her way.

His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest as he saw the carriage in the distance, the knowledge that the love of his humble life sat inside of it filling him with both excitement and dread. He feared deep in his soul that something had changed, that she’d realized her worth in town and had now come home to break him into a million insignificant pieces only to go on and have a peaceful life with someone else.

By the time the carriage had rolled up in front of the manor, he could hardly hear or see straight, his anxiety threatening to knock him unconscious.

He watched as her older brother stepped out of the carriage first, adjusting his coat and top hat before lending his hand out for his sister. Frankie felt his heart stop at the sight of her gloved hand coming into view, the rest of her that followed simply the nail in the coffin to his yearning, aching heart. He swallowed thickly as she stepped out of the carriage, his wild eyes glued to hers in hopes that she’d sense him, that she’d feel the heat of his desire from the yards that separated them.

Florence’s eyes scanned over the estate and group of servants waiting in front of it before finally landing on Frankie’s. He cracked the faintest of smiles, only to have it torn right off when she quickly looked away as though she didn’t even recognize him.

In that moment, Frankie would have preferred taking a dagger to the heart than to have to continue standing there, forcing indifference when he was burning on the inside. Her smile and laughter as she greeted her family only twisted the knife she’d struck into his chest, which now began to physically ache over his emotional distress.

Clearing his throat, he quietly made his exit from the welcome party, sneaking off to his cabin to call it a night. There was no point in standing there looking like a fool any longer. It was clear to him now that everything before, every kiss, every promise…it had all been just a fantasy. A delusion. But delusion or not, his heart had bought into it, committed itself to it—to her.

How could he convince himself to let go of a fantasy he still half-believed to be reality?

Florence had to be patient all afternoon and evening, biding her time until she could sneak out to Frankie’s cabin and properly greet him. The prying eyes in front of the manor was no place for even the slightest of lingering stares, forcing her to feign indifference the minute his eyes met hers. Truth be told, the split second she spent staring into his dark brown irises made her feel more at home than even the sight of her beloved family—even the sight of her literal home.

The comfort she found in him went beyond blood and land, it was something transcendent, something that lived beyond the realm of the physical. He was home to her, but how could she face him knowing she’d found home in another as well?

Once her family went to bed, the entire Bell clan under one roof for the first time in a year, she waited only as long as she needed to before she was slipping on her boots, sneaking down the staircase, turning corners until she was cracking open the back door to the garden.

Once the early winter chill hit her, she smiled. Now there was only an acre of distance between her and her love, and in just a few minutes, she’d have him close again.

Or so she thought.

When she arrived to his cabin, out of breath and panting, she stood outside of his door, knocking gently at first until the icy cold started to get to her. Her knocks grew more urgent with each passing second until he was whipping the door open and glaring at her, looking at her with pained, tired eyes.

“Go home,” he ordered as though standing here in front of him wasn’t the only place she ever wanted to be.

“No,” she shivered not just from the cold of the air around her but his icy demeanor, crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to warm up. “I’ve missed you. I’ve spent hours, days, weeks wondering what it would be like when we met again, and this is the first thing you ask of me? To leave you? To go home? As if you aren’t exactly that?”

“You hardly looked at me, you never wrote—“

“I had no time—“

“Why?” He inquired, crossing his own arms over his chest.

“Because! I…had appearances to make, people to entertain, an image to uphold—“

“Of course. I should’ve guess your image would take priority,” he chided, moving aside to let her in regardless of his irritable state.

“You’re being so cruel,” she whispered as she walked to the fireplace, her eyes unable to meet his. “Do you not feel for me the way you used to?”

“Of course I do,” he whispered back as he watched her stand there, frozen by his cold welcoming. Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, he walked to her, wrapping his arms around her. “Forgive me…I…just assumed you’d come to tell me your feelings have changed. Blame my cruelty on my paranoia.”

“I don’t want to quarrel,” she looked up at him, the ache in her chest fading to a soft tingle, a buzz of excitement and the comfort of adoration filling her instead of her guilt. “I’ve missed you.”

“Sweet love,” he cupped her cheek, his brow creased as he studied her the way he studied the shelf of poetry and literature in the corner of his living room. “I have been just surviving, living enough to be considered alive…the entire time carrying on just for the hope of seeing you again.”

“Frankie,” she whimpered, melting into him like she’d dreamed about for the last three months. “Take me to your bed and claim me for yourself again.”

Frankie only groaned in response, his hands holding her face slipping to her waist, squeezing her as though to make sure she was truly there, asking him to unravel her. Once he was sure she wasn’t an illusion, some desperate hallucination to cure him of his longing, he was scooping her up bridal style, staring at her with worshiping eyes the entire way to his bed.

Florence reached up and pet his jaw, her eyes studying the way her absence, and alternatively her presence, seemed to affect him. The light in his eyes had gone out, but she could see in real time as they began to sparkle again the longer she was around. It was both a gift and a responsibility meaning that much to a person, but she knew he carried the same burden. No matter what fire Javi lit inside of her, nothing could compare to this. To him.

Frankie laid her down on his less-than-adequate bed, though Florence on multiple occasions detailed how it was her favorite resting place, even in all its modest glory, for it was where he laid his head. His eyes swept over her as she laid on his pillows, staring up at him with awe and reverence, as if he was anything to revere. In her presence, he very nearly believed he was.

“You are so beautiful it makes me ache,” he confessed as he sat back on his ankles between her thighs, her nightgown shimmied up around her hips. He didn’t know which part of her to worship first, his rough hands ghosting over her newly exposed skin as though she was a piece of fine art, delicate and fragile. “I’ve never seen anything more worthy of worship than you.”

“You must not have seen yourself, then, Frankie,” she smiled, her hand gripping the collar of his white blouse, tugging him forward so that he was laying on top of her. Frankie chuckled as his lips ghosted over hers, one hand reaching to cradle her face while the other slid up and down the outside of her left thigh, hitching it around his hips. Florence filled in the gap between their lips with a feather-light kiss that had Frankie desperate for more, a whimper leaving his lips at the taste of her.

“I need to taste you,” he moaned, deepening the kiss. Florence nodded against him, giving him the permission to do whatever he wanted to her.

Soft, needy moans spilled from both sets of lips as he kissed down her chin and neck, his fingers unbuttoning her nightgown and his lips following quickly behind, kissing every inch of skin freshly exposed until he was tugging her knickers off and tucking them in his back pocket. When he took in her waiting heat dripping with arousal, his brown eyes turned black, shaking his head at how desperately he wished to never leave this bed.

“So sweet,” he praised as he ran a finger through her arousal, gathering it on his fingertip and lifting it to his tongue to get a taste of her. He moaned at the fruity tang of her elixir, his eyes meeting hers. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”

Florence shook her head bashfully.

“You, my lady, are missing out on the sweetest thing in the world.” He repeated his actions, only this time lifting his fingers to her lips. Florence sucked his digits into her mouth, humming around them when she tasted herself. Frankie could wait no longer, leaning his mouth down to swipe his tongue up and down her seam while she was still sucking her arousal off his finger, a deep growl vibrating against her as he worked over her bud over and over in slow, efficient circles.

“Oh, Frankie,” she mewled, finally releasing his fingers with a wet pop so that she could give him the praise he was due. “You’re a gift from the gods.”

“Tastes so good,” he spoke mostly to himself as both of his hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider as he began to eat her without restraint, his tongue lapping and flicking and swirling and suckling until he could feel her walls begin to flutter around nothing.

“I need you inside of me,” she begged, back arched off the bed as she held his head against her core, their eyes locking over the expanse of her torso. “Please…please fill me.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, slipping two fingers into her heat and earning the most sinful and holy of moans, her eyes squeezing shut as he curled his fingertips up, up, up until she had lost all coherency, babbling about how good it felt right there. “Let go…let go and I’ll fill you, my sweet Florence.”

“Yes!” she gasped, her eyes opening to lock with his as warmth and fuzziness trickled through her every nerve, her body seizing as her climax washed over her, his tongue’s skillful swirling combined with his deft fingers launching her into the most earth-shattering pleasure she’d ever experienced. Frankie beamed proudly as she writhed for him, tears falling from her eyes into her ears as she praised him like a god. “I love you, I love you, I lo-ove—“

Frankie interrupted her with his cock slipping inside her slick heat, pressing in all the way to the hilt and staying there until her tight walls relaxed around him. Florence reached for his face, pulling him down so that his forehead was resting against hers.

“I love you,” he reminded, placing a kiss to her cheek. “And I will never stop.”

Florence couldn’t form words anymore, her need for him transcending her entire vocabulary. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him close, burying his face in her neck as his hips began to snap into hers languidly at first before turning animalistic and desperate.

“So perfect,” he praised through a muffled voice, his lips moving against her pulse. “You’re everything I could ever want.”

“Frankie!” she gasped, nearing another release already.

“Wait for me, my love,” he ordered, kissing her collarbone. “Wait for me.”

“I’m so close,” she warned, her eyes squeezing shut as she held off her orgasm for him.

“Look at me,” he whispered his demand, his words not reaching her through her bliss. He lifted his face to look down at her, a smile growing on his face as he sped up his thrusts just to watch her face contort from the pleasure. “My sweet love…look at me.”

Florence peeled her eyes open and gasped at his beauty—his hair a mess, cheeks flushed, skin glowing from the light sheen of sweat covering it. He looked like a work of art, the affection in his grin snapping the tightly wound cord of ecstasy before she could stop it. Frankie moaned at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him, pulling out just in time to paint her stomach with his seed.

When Florence opened her eyes again, her bliss now just a light buzz that made her feel safe and relaxed in his arms, she ran her thumb over his cheekbone, Frankie still panting with his face screwed in pleasure.

“My love,” she cooed with a grin on her face. “How could I have ever left you? Even for duty, even for my family…none of it is worth the distance I put between us. Forgive me.”

Frankie shook his head adamantly, finally opening his eyes to take her in, her torso littered with his release, her skin sweaty and glowing, her smile threatening to give him a heart attack.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he assured, leaning down to kiss the valley between her breasts. “You are here. I won’t dwell on anything else now.”

She hummed in agreement, for a moment truly forgetting about all that had happened in the city.

“I must ask, though…what’s brought you home so soon?” He lifted his head to look into her eyes, noticing the guilt in them. “You’ve met someone.”

Florence stayed silent, her eyes frantic as they darted between his.

“It’s alright to admit it…I never once doubted that you’d find someone more suited to your station.” Florence shook her head, her brows furrowing as she reached for his face. He grabbed her hand and sighed, kissing her palm. “Do not try to deny it. Do not attempt to lie to me, my love. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Frankie, I love you.” He nodded in agreement.

“I know that,” he whispered, kissing her palm again. “But that does not mean you do not love another as well.”

“Frankie,” she exhaled, a sob threatening to break free. “Please…”

He shook his head, letting go of her hand so that he could lean down and kiss her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere until you send me away,” he assured. “I love you enough to allow you the freedom of choice.”

Florence closed her eyes and felt a few tears stream down her cheeks and into her ears, overwhelmed by the goodness of his heart and her inability to cherish it as much as he deserved.

“I only ask this…does he love you the same? Would he love you if he knew about us…about this?” Frankie asked, no judgement or malice in his tone, simply curiosity. Florence swallowed thickly and shrugged, unsure of what Javi would think of the entire arrangement. “It’s alright, my love,” he comforted, laying down beside her on the mattress and pulling her into his side. “When you’re with me, you don’t need to carry the weight of being anymore. You can just be you, and I shall just be me. How does that sound?”

“Like a dream. You, Francisco, are a dream.”

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @laureliciousdefinition @alwayslurkinginthebackground (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x oc #frankie morales angst #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #javi gutiérrez x oc #javi g x oc #javi g smut #javi g #javi g fluff #javi g fanfiction #javi g fic #javi gutierrez #ivy & stone

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laufire · 11 months

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Top 5 toxic ships

just five......... alright I'll try lol.

in no particular order, and trying to go with different "types":

Ruby & Sam (Supernatural). Sometimes that seducer/betrayer dynamic hits JUST RIGHT. And they included BLOODSHARING so they win. Similar dynamics can be found in the central "couple" in Lust, Caution, Sherlock/Jamie Moriarty in Elementary... Potentially Helo/Athena and Six/Gaius in Battlestar Galactica... we'll see.

Helly R & Helena (Severance). They have that mirror-images, I-created-you thing that's just *chef's kiss*. AND they combine it with one of my favourite we-share-a-body-and-are-NOT-happy about it cases. The toxicity is OFF-THE-CHARTS. The body horror. The haaaaaate. Everything. It's hard to find something as !!!!! as these two but there are traces of it in Elena/Katherine, Eleanor/Max, Black Swan, Buffy/Faith, Cersei-Sansa... it really works for me lol.

Eleanor & Henry (The Lion in Winter). YOU KNOW what kind of marriages I'm talking about lol. They hate each other but they are the only ones who GET the other, truly. And I do think the husband's infidelity adds a certain layer to it, because something like that is seen as denigrating for the woman (ew), yet it's undeniable these are THE ONES for them in a way nobody else is. It's not that she's lesser and he cheated, it's that he's a pig lol. Alicia/Peter in The Good Wife fit the bill; maybe Jason/Medea LOL, or Catherine/Henry in Reign.

Jennifer & Needy (Jennifer's Body). Toxic teen girlfriendism is just so especial <3. Shoutout to other examples like Jackie/Shauna or even Lilly/Veronica... there are other toxic teen girlfriendism films I must watch asap to add them to the list.

Merteuil & Valmont (Dangerous Liaisons). Love a good awful couple of manipulators that destroy each other <333. There's some overlap with #3 but here I think it's key that their ending is frustrated; there are divorce vibes, they separate or never quite find the moment of synchronicity, iykwim (although ig you could say The Handmaiden has a happy example). Elena/Stefan if I could set aside my Caroline-related-issues lol. Bela/Dean in a better world, Asriel and Marisa! Catherine/Heathcliff. Silverflint at their best (worst); actually, Avon/Stringer too, so ig this is what it takes for me to ship slash xD

#talking to the void #my thoughts #replies #anonymous #top 5s #favourites: samson and delilah #favourites: somebody else might end up being me #favourites: mirror mirror on the wall #favourites: to fall another moment into your gravity #favourites: romantic tragedies #favourites: vultures in lurve #ty!

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ao3feed-ichiruki · 1 year

Text

Just Friends

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9N4Dt2j

by LunaticR

Rukia knew that her relationship with Renji had been a mistake, an idiotic impulse taken at a time of high pressure, and from which she was having a hard time getting out because Renji didn't want to leave her. If she left, the whole Kuchiki fortune was gone and he needed it.

Until those photos reached her and she found the perfect excuse to break up with him. Her friends suggested a couple of ideas for Renji to learn not to play with a Kuchiki, but what made everything better was the return of her best friend.

* IchiRuki * AU * Adult Characters * This story starts with RenRuki but ends with a beautiful IchiRuki

Words: 5598, Chapters: 1/7, Language: English

Fandoms: Bleach (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Abarai Renji, Inoue Orihime, Ulquiorra Cifer, Arisawa Tatsuki, Matsumoto Rangiku, Hinamori Momo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Aizen Sousuke, Kuchiki Hisana, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kurosaki Masaki, Kurosaki Isshin

Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia

Additional Tags: Infidelity, Consensual Infidelity, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Ratings: R, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, sex friends - Freeform, Sex, Classism, elitism, Blackmail, Non-Consensual, AU, OOC, Ichiruki, Happy Ending

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9N4Dt2j

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #ichiruki

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taneshadeva · 1 year

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Heart Broken

Karma by Queen Naija (R&B)

Karma was a song inspired by one of Queen's original song called "Medicine". She made the song to express how she felt after she had been in a marriage of 3 years with a child that was crumbling due to infidelity by her former husband. In her song she explains how she's always been there form event in "the darkest moments" and it wasn't enough for him. She expresses the support she gave him but still wasn't satisfied.

youtube

Heartbreak Anniversary by Giveon (R&B, Electronic, Soul)

Heartbreak Anniversary is a song based a relationship breakup, and the song is about getting over an ex, it is was poetic. He originally came up with the song when he heard music while walking into the studio and he said "this sounds like an I got my heart broke a year ago song,’ and I keep feeling that pain when it comes around". In his song he explains how " Balloons are deflated

Guess they look lifeless like me

We miss you on your side of the bed, mmm

Still got your things here

And they stare at me like souvenirs

Don't wanna let you out my head". He expresses how he felt by comparing hisself to deflated balloons and that he misses her and that stuff she left behind reminding him of her.

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Ball without You by 21 Savage (Rap)

Ball without you reflects on a relationship that he lost and expresses feeling betrayal. 21 Savage contemplates his capacity for love and whether love or loyalty matters most in a relationship. The song shows how he gets emotional about a woman he's no longer with. As he says in his song " You runnin' 'round drinkin' liquor Takin' pictures 'cause you miss me (I know you miss me)" expressing that he believe that she is doing this to gain his attention and he interprets it as she misses him.

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Change by Deftone (Rock)

Change reflects an individual is actually enjoying the experience, as in ‘feeling so alive’. He takes this person, imprisons him or her and ‘pulls off their wings’. Or put more simply, he stifles and takes away the source of their newfound joy and then ‘laughs’ about it. He meets his fate at the hands of the addressee. And then in the aftermath, the latter once again reclaims that feeling of happiness which Chino previously stole away. Rather this piece reads more distinctly as sort of a revenge fantasy or story of justice, if you will, in which the vocalist clearly does the subject wrong but eventually ends up on the wrong side of a gun, while the addressee, who was his victim, remains chillin".

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All I wanted by Paramore (Rock)

All I wanted reflects a girl expressing her love to her lover. But, the lover never really got that she loved them so much. She is thinking about when she first realized that she fell in love with them (go back to the beginning and relive the start). She loved her lover for who they are. It wasn't about money or anything else. It was all about the love she has for lover!

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The Heart Wants What it Wants by Selena Gomez (Pop)

The Heart Wants What it Wants reflects one of Selena's former relationship with a well known artist. The song expresses love is a powerful emotion that overrides any logical thoughts or advice that one may receive. Even when you know it may not be the best or healthiest thing for you, the heart still wants what it wants. The song also touches on the idea that when it comes to love, there isn't always a happy ending or guaranteed success, but that doesn't make the feelings any less real. It can be difficult to deny true emotions even when the path ahead may be uncertain. Such as when you are romantically or sexually attracted to someone, then no amount of logic or reason can dissuade you.

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I chose my theme to be Heart Broken because I recently suffered a heartbreak that I am still trying to cope with. Just recently (a little over 2 months ago) I lost my Grandfather on February 19, 2023 and it has been very hard as I am still grieving and learning to cope with his death. Ever since then I've gone down hill, with school and procrastination, hiding my feelings. Ive been throwing my self in work so I don't have to deal with it. But music has been a coping mechanism for me as it helps me calm down, and brings me hope and happiness. Although the music I chose are more based on relationship heartbreaks, I can feel there pain in there music, and I can relate to the pain.

#Youtube

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popmusicu · 1 year

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When life gives you lemons...

Since we are in the XXI century, Beyoncé has always been on the scene. She was first part of a famous R&B group of singers, Destiny’s Child, and she is the only one of them that keeps on succeding even though the group disolved on 2006. She’s been making hit after hit since then, some of them with her partner, the rapper Jay-Z. They’ve been on a relationship since almost the beggining of the 00’s, they also got married and even had a child. Nonetheless, this doesn’t mean this is a happy story, I say this because they have gone through hard times together and I want to adress a specific moment in their relationship.

It turns out that around 2014-2015 Jay-Z cheated on Beyoncé…but it wasn’t the end of them, they forgave each other and they coped in they’re own ways. In her case, she made a masterpiece of an album: Lemonade.

Each song of Lemonade (except for Formation, which is the only single of the album and is not part of the story) is a part of her story, going through every emotion she felt and ending with forgiveness.

This album is also a visual album, which means the story is also told with a cinematic experience. It starts with “Pray you catch me” => Chapter 1: Intuition. After this Bey goes through denial, anger, apathy, emptiness, accountability, reformation and forgiveness, in that order and each corresponding to a specific song. This feeling are followed by resurrrection, hope and, finally, redemption associated with “All night”, a song about loving each other…all night long.

This is THE conceptual album by Beyoncé because of the story telling, the mix of sounds going from reggae, blues gospel, through hip hop, rock an even going to country music. She is clearly one of the most influential artists of our generation and I find very impressive that she was capable of transforming such a negative experience as the infidelity of your longterm partner into such a complete and majestic album. In a way, life gave her lemons and she made…Lemonade.

David Garrido Vásquez

#Albums #I love this

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

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hi hii I was wondering if you had any taekook x reader fics ? 🙈 , also wondering if I could I go as 🗯 anon if that's okay? I love ur recs so much and ur page is a LIFESAVER , ily bae <3

🌷 Dear 🗯️ anon! I am sorry for answering so late. My drafts are all messed up but I was able to focus on this. On my 📍 pinned post, I actually asked if you meant love triangles or MMF smut but you didn't reply. So, I'll just put both =)

Enjoy! Much love and credit goes to all these wonderful writers who brought these fics to life 💖🥳

TaeKook Fics (Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook)

Love Triangle/s

M/M/F Smutty One Shots/Series

#ReadwithMe (fics in my reading queue/planning to read)

Love Triangle

All I Want @ardentlyjae - series [6/6] | 126k | War AU, Soldier!Taehyung | Heavy Angst, S

I actually read this on AO3 but I realized it’s on tumblr too. I remember this fic every time I hear Kodaline’s All I Want, which the fic was inspired by

Anima Meaology @arckook - series [5/5] | 26k | Soulmate AU, soulmate glitch (those with mismatched tattoos on their wrist) | A, F

I read this long ago on AO3 when I had this soulmate AU-fixation phase and I saw it on tumblr recently. Just had to read it again 🥺

Aquarium, Part 2 @whatifyoulivelikethat - two shot | 6.9k | cheating/infidelity, healing/comfort, second chances | A, F

I really like this comfort fic 🥰. Also shows that people deserve second chances, even the person who caused so much hurt. Screamed about it here and here

Change @junghelioseok - series [10/10] | 39.2k | a kind handsome stranger (Taehyung) makes you question your deteriorating relationship (Jungkook) | A, S, F

can I just say that Taehyung is such a sweetheart here 🥰? I always envision Paris Taehyung 2018 in this

Everything Goes @jamaisjoons - one shot | 24k | Fuckboy!Taehyung, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Stranger!Jungkook, unrequited love | A, S (really angsty)

First Light @inktae - one shot | 24k | Bestfriend!Taehyung, Masked Jungkook who can’t seem to leave the forest, Fantasy AU, based on hotarubi no mori e | F

If you’ve seen my fic recs list, inktae is always part of my recs. The way they write is just emotionally and visually haunting. Their works are just masterpieces. This is beautifully heartbreaking and heartbreakingly beautiful.

House of Cards @aiimaginesbts - series [10/10] | 40k | infidelity au, taehyung in an arranged marriage with someone else, roommate Jungkook | A, S, F

don’t we all want to have a roommate like Jungkook who will be there to comfort you over your heartbreak over someone else?

Stealing the Bite by wildernessuntothemselves - series [6/6] | 37k | witch!reader x werewolf!taehyung x vampire!jungkook, supernatural au, fantasy au | S, A

I mentioned before that some are divided re the ending, so I wonder what’s going to be the reactions of others

The Muse @daddychims - one shot | 30k | Author!Reader, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Fuckboy!Taehyung, Coworker!Jungkook, Taehyung offered OC to watch him have sex with another so she could write an erotic scene | S, A, F

The Universe of Us (read on mobile) @/taesthetes (officially closed her account) - one shot | 21k | Dream AU, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Kimi no Nawa-inspired | F, A

I am never going to shut up about this fic lol. It’s not exactly a love triangle, ugh hard to explain but please read this wonderful fic. Check their other KTH x R x JJK soulmate fic Cloud Ten too.

When You Least Expect @johobi - series [12/14 + drabble] | 118k | Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, Childhood Friend Taehyung, set up with another guy (Jungkook) | S, A, F

ugh, I want to put another tag about Jungkook but I guess it’s a surprise. I just love the drama 🍿

🌷 I’m forgetting two more fics but I’ll update this once I remember. I haven’t read recently released fics too! I’ll add if there are good ones that come along

MMF Smutty One Shots/Series

A Piece of You @httpjeon - one shot | 13.9k | abo dynamics, camboy AU, camgirl AU, fan jungkook joins the cam session | S, F

All’s Fair @kimvtae - one shot | 13k | soulmate AU, college AU, dating Taehyung for a year but different name (Jungkook) showed up on OC’s wrist (lol it’s not a problem if you can get them both) | S

Blacklisted @/httpjeon - one shot | 21k | dom/sub AU, CEO AU, “after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men” | A, F, S

Business @btssmutgalore - two shot | 28.9k | executive!reader, inventors/start-up owners taekook | S (seriously, how could I have missed including this here)

Dulce Periculum @forgottenpasta - two shot [2/2] | 16k | Hybrid AU, Tiger Hybrid!Tae, Owner!Reader, Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook | S, A, F

Easy Like Sunday Morning @ofsugakookies - one shot | 11.8k | boyfriend AU (yes, both of them), dom!taehyung, sub!jungkook | S, PWP

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - two shot [2/2] 11.6k | Hybrid AU (dog hybrids) | S, A (side note: I realized I’ve read all of their fics! give their masterlist a try)

Just Kidding @/whatifyoulivelikethat - series [5/?] | 21.1k+ | nympho OC, friend Taehyung, tae’s roommate Jungkook | S, kinda F, crack

this is actually fun 😊; and the episodes are written in a drabble-ish sort of way so you won’t feel like it needs to be updated to get the story moving. It’s basically just reading fun scenarios of nympho OC and these two satisfying her needs *wink wink

Not So Digital @jiminables - sequel to Digital Boy | 2.7k | camboy!taehyung, bestfriend!jungkook, short mxm | S, slight F

Playing to Win @tayegi - one shot | 8.6k | FWB AU (tae), sort of enemies to lovers (jungkook), TaeKook (mxm), originally Taehyung x OC (fwb) | S

okay this is one of my favorites! I’m amazed at how the power dynamics were written. Taehyung seems a dom with OC but with Jungkook he is all soft and sub; then, there’s that dynamic between Jungkook and OC who disliked each other originally. I just found the shifting so interesting and the writer was able to display these changes in dom/sub behavior among the three characters really well

Pour Up @jungkxook - one shot | 14k | fuckboy AU, fratboy AU (applies to two of them), one sassy OC, one kind of jealous Koo | S (thank you dear author for reposting this! 🥰)

Shhh @bang-tan-bitches - drabble (with OT7 sequel) | 2.7k | PWP (just pure hot imagine)

Shameless @imaginethisbts - one shot | 5.1k | established relationship (jungkook x oc), Taehyung’s POV, exhibitionism | S (not exactly threesome, because JK and OC are just doing it in front of people, Taehyung had a bit of action in the end)

Sugar & Spice @divine-bangtan - one shot | 20.8k | Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU, Baker AU, Noona AU, Assistant!Jungkook, Rich!Taehyung, pining Koo, a bit of M x M | S, F, A (it’s all good everyone ends up happy 😊)

Sugar and Spice @sunkissedjk - two shot [2/2] | 8.6k | Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar (jjk) or spice (kth) | S

ugh this is such an indulgent imagine. If taekook are your friends and they help you decide what type of sex you prefer through a demonstration, wouldn’t you want for multiple demos before deciding? *wink wink

Sacrilegious @therealmintedmango - part of the Gods and Monsters series | 15.6k | Demon!Jungkook, Fallen Angel!Reader, God!Taehyung | S (so sinful 😈💦)

Sweat Pea @nitaescence - series [10/10] | 63k | DDLG!AU, caregiver!jungkook, caregiver!taehyung, little!oc | S, F, A

so I’m glad there was an ask about caregiver!jungkook because I remembered this. I actually checked if there’s a follow up drabble because the ending is open to any interpretation so I’m curious how other readers interpreted it

051 + Scum’s Wish @scriptmin - one shot | 3k | bestfriend!jungkook, pining!oc (unrequited), rebound!taehyung | S, A

it’s actually kind of sad 😭 but I added this because it's good to have variety. Not all smutty pieces will be a happy one

Tattooed Two @/httpjeon - one shot | 8.5k | tattoo artist AU, boyfriend Jungkook joined by his bestfriend Taehyung | S, F

The Doms Next Door @tatertotthethot - series [3.1/?] | 33.8k+ | BDSM AU, Poly, Neighbor AU, Tattoo Artist AU | S

I really love this series. It’s so funny too, I remember Jimin here - he’s THAT bestfriend you want to have. PLUS TaeKook are absolutely hot. If you're not interested in being a sub or partaking in bdsm, you will reconsider

The Hush Series @suga-kookiemonster - two shot [2/2] | 16.9k | coworker’s friends TaeKook, sort of E2L (Jungkook), dom!taehyung, a bit of voyeurism | | S

okay, I really like author’s writing. It can be about sinful delicious smut scenes but I noticed the members always have this developed characterization. I actually find Taehyung so adorably charming - makes me wonder if irl tae is secretly sinful too behind that sweetness lol

Thic Trilogy @btsinned - series [3/7] | 37k+ | CEO AU, Hybrid AU, College AU, Chubby!Reader | S, F, A

🌷 I’m throwing in fics in my reading queue #ReadwithMe

Attitude Adjustment @s0seo - one shot | 11.8k | Roommate AU | S

Chain Reaction @kissmetae - one shot | 3.2k | boyfriend Taehyung and friend Jungkook helping OC relax | S

Cherry @kpopstories - series [4/?] | 29k+ | college AU, fuckboy AU, love triangle | A, S, F (this is part of my ongoing reading list)

Cobalt Blue @hauntedlilies - one shot | 11.3k | artist AU, “you asked Jungkook to draw you like one of his french girls” | S

When You’re Mad @honeyj00ns - one shot | 3.8k | established relationship (boyfriend Jungkook), enemies to lovers Taehyung, Taehyung is JK’s bestfriend, Christmas AU, College AU| S

Madam Cupcake @craztextae - series [6/?] | 69.2k+ | Sugarbaby AU, Idolverse, idol!jungkook meets OC through an app called “sugarmamas(.)com” | S, F

Player Two @minjoonalist - one shot | 10.6k | Gamer!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Taehyung, Brat!Reader | S

Tag Team @goodnight-tae - one shot | 5.2k | stripper AU, TaeKook are roommates and friends who share most things 😉 | S, PWP

Whoa @bangtanlalaland - one shot | 4.7k | skater!taehyung, 1970s AU, coworker!jungkook | S, PWP, Crack

posted: 2021 March 12; updated: 2021 May 12

link to other fic recs here

feel free to recommend a fic

#🌷 chats #taekook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic recs #taehyung fic recs #taekook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #ggukkiereadingcollection #🗯 anon #asks #bts x reader #bts smut

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tillidontneedfantasy · 3 years

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A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.

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shedobewritingalittle · 3 years

Text

Hurt

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: In a post-snap world, the reader and Steve are falling apart.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Talks of death, talks of a dead child, infidelity, depression

A/N: this kinda just a fucking bummer. Sorry.

Almost an entire lifetime ago, Director Fury himself had told her that marriage and children only complicated life. At the time, Y/N had brushed it off. She was going to be an SHIELD agent, so she wasn’t going to have time for a spouse and children. And she was completely fine with that at the time.

Now, a part of Y/N wished that she had listened to her boss as she glances down at the shiny granite headstone.

Y/N didn't mean to fall in love with her teammate. Steve and her had a great friendship and it just sort of transitioned into an equally great relationship. Life happens and all that. They had gotten married shortly before the Accords caused the team to fall apart. A year into Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Y/N being on the run, a smaller, tinier person joined the team.

Steve and Y/N were over the moon about the new addition to their family. Their son James (named after Steve’s best friend) was the sweetest little boy and had both of his parents wrapped around his tiny finger. They quickly adjusted to being parents, managed to balance their new roles and being on the run almost effortlessly. Sure it wasn't ideal, but they had to make do with the situation they were in. Things were fine and the little family was happy.

And then Thanos showed up.

Everyone had lost someone the day that Thanos snapped his fingers. No part of the universe was left untouched. Both Y/N and Steve were still reeling from the losses of their friends and teammates as they rushed back towards the royal palace. They had left James with Queen Ramonda and both of them needed to make sure he was safe, needed him to be okay. Death and destruction was all around them and dust hung in the air was they moved their legs faster and faster.

Instead they were met with the Queen Regent's sobs and a pile of dust amongst James's toys. It was an image that would be ingrained in Steve and Y/N forever.

Once both of them settled into a new apartment in Brooklyn, Y/N had joined a group for mothers who lost children in the Snap. Upon entering the meeting for the very first time, she was met with the glares of every mother in the room. Each one of their gazes seeming to scream at Y/N "This is your fault. You're the reason why our babies are gone.". The leader of the group took Y/N aside and asked with faux sincerity if the Avenger could leave. She couldn't blame them. Y/N would ask herself to leave too if she was in their shoes.

Y/N never told Steve what had happened. She knew he wouldn't understand. No one would ever turn Captain America down, no one would feel uncomfortable by his presence. Y/N on the other hand? Well she wasn't a cherished hero. She was just on the team.

Y/N didn't mean to distance herself from her husband, but it just happened. The day that James turned into the dust, a part of Y/N died. It was hard for her to put her feelings into words when everything just hurt. Y/N tried to talk about it, but her throat would just tighten with emotion as she tried to gather her words. Her days would blur together and Y/N would find herself unable to leave her room. She tried not to sleep, knowing that if she did all she would see is that pile of dust amongst his toys. Steve was patient at first, letting her take her time. Yet as one year without their son turned into two, his patience grew thin.

Y/N was trying her best, she really was. Sure it didn't seem like a lot of progress to just leave the house for short amounts of time, but it was just so hard. She’s lost people before, but none of those losses made her ache in such a way. Her arms felt empty with no child to carry and she felt so alone. Everything reminded her of James. A child laughing, the bounce of a ball, the crunch of the leaves underneath her feet as the seasons changed-everything reminded her of her son. She couldn't even look at her husband without her heart aching in her chest because their son looked just like him. She knew that Steve just wanted her to find a way to get through it and get over it. He had given up on helping her, spending more and more time at his meetings. Y/N just kept telling herself that they were helping him, so it wasn't a big deal if he was gone for most of the day. If he wasn't here, they didn't fight.

Before Thanos, they really didn't fight. Sure they would argue about stupid little things and make up almost immediately, but now? They fought about everything. Y/N asking if Steve could handle grocery shopping for the week would turn into a three hour long screaming match. Steve got pissed off about every little thing she did. Fighting with Steve was exhausting because somehow he always found a way to make Y/N feel shitty about anything she had and hadn't done. There wasn't anymore making up after their fights, no sweet kisses and I love yous. Only doors slamming shut and a lot of words that shouldn’t be thrown around so carelessly.

She tried to ignore it when he'd leave their apartment after they had a fight. Tried to ignore how loud the door would slam, how'd he'd mutter something under his breath as he grabbed his coat and keys. She even tried to ignore the smell of a perfume that wasn't hers when he'd come home, slipping under the covers without bothering to shower. Y/N even tried to ignore it when he left her alone on Mother's Day, stuck in the apartment surrounding by images of the son she had lost while he was out doing whatever he did before coming home smelling like that perfume.

Y/N knew exactly what he was doing and she didn't know if had it in her anymore to fight with him. She tried to pretend like it wasn't happening until she just couldn't anymore.

"He's cheating on me, Nat." Y/N told her friend over their weekly coffee date-a sign of her progress. Natasha was stunned by the confession and was even more shocked by her friend's tone. Y/N said it like she was talking about the weather, her voice lacking any sort of emotion. The red head sitting across from her slowly put down her cup of coffee.

Y/N has been trying to tell Natasha since it started, but she just didn't know how to say it. Steve was one of Natasha's best friends and Y/N didn't want to tear them apart because of what Steve was doing. However, Natasha was Y/N's friend too and she had no one else to talk to. Y/N was at a crossroad and both of them ended in disaster. It just finally got to the point where she just had to tell Natasha and Y/N knew she shouldn't feel guilty about finally saying it, but she did.

"What do you mean?-I-Are you sure?" Natasha questions as Y/N keeps her eyes down, just nodding in response. Nat's eyebrows furrow together as she continues, "When-When did it start?"

"Two months ago. He-He started to leave after we'd fight and he'd come back smelling like perfume. It's more frequent now. No fights needed." Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it makes Natasha's heart ache. There was no anger in Y/N's words, no resentment. Natasha hates how her friend has come to terms with Steve's infidelity. To Y/N, it felt cathartic to finally say what has been happening. She didn’t want Nat to go and knock some sense into Steve or anything like that. All she wanted was to finally say it aloud, to tell someone what was going on, even though it just made the whole situation real. Y/N turns her head to look out of the window, letting out a shaky breath as Natasha reaches out to hold her hand. Her other hand was left holding her mug of coffee, the gold wedding ring seemingly weighing a tons

An hour later, Y/N sees them as the cab she is in pulls up to the curb. Steve and a young brunette laughing and smiling as they walk out of the apartment building and it feels like Y/N is being stabbed in the chest. Ignoring the pain she's in, Y/N forces herself out of the cab, some sadistic part of her just needing to get out. The other woman sees her first, eyes widening. It takes a second for Steve to realize what had happened, the smile dropping from his face.

The three of them stand there for what feels like an eternity, Y/N still holding onto the cab door. Steve opens his mouth and closes it, not even knowing how to work his way around this. Y/N was seething, sadness quickly turning into rage. It was one thing for Steve to be sneaking around at night, for him to be hiding the fact that he was cheating. It was another thing entirely for him to be walking around with the other woman, not caring who saw.

Y/N knows that grief manifests itself in different ways, but this is straw that broke the camel's back. Steve had found a way to completely forget about their son and his wife, distracting himself with his stupid little grief circle and a young mistress. Y/N wants to scream at him and make a scene, but she just doesn't have it in her. Tears fill her eyes and as Steve moves to take a step forward, Y/N slips back into the cab, shutting the door behind her.

There's a chill in the air as she walks through the cemetery, wrapping her coat around herself a little tighter. It was freezing out and Y/N knows that she should've gone somewhere warm, but here she was. Her feet carried her where she needed to go, working on pure muscle memory. The hero comes to a stop in front of a small stone headstone.

Their therapist had told them that having a place to visit James would bring them comfort in a way. She had also said that burying him would ease some of the pain and help with the grieving process. Y/N didn't want to say that burying that tiny box filled with the dust they had gathered had only made her feel worse. Steve and Y/N had tried to visit as much as possible, even decorated his grave for each holiday, but then Steve stopped showing up.

There's a bouquet of wilting sunflowers in the little hole by his headstone, which she had left for James on Thanksgiving. They'd be replaced in a week or two by bright red poinsettias to signal the change of seasons and holidays. Another Christmas without her baby boy would turn into another year without him. Y/N's throat tightened as she realized that James has been gone longer than he was alive.

As she stood there, the cracks in their relationship became apparent. Y/N knew Steve wasn’t the perfect partner, but all of their big issues had been washed away by all of the good things. When they were dating, everything came before Y/N, which she understood at the time. Saving the world comes first and all that, but as she looks back on it, it wasn’t just saving the world. Others were just put in front of her and she had just chalked it up to Steve just being selfless. He’d miss dates and anniversaries, always giving her a half assed excuse and that thousand watt smile. Steve would always come apologize, holding a bunch of red roses. Each time, he’d look down at the flowers and say that he gotten her favorite flowers. She never had the heart to tell him that her favorite flower was peonies. When they were married, the search for Bucky always came first. Y/N hadn’t minded at the time because she knew how important Bucky was to Steve, but that mess quickly turned into the Accords.

Steve never told her that Bucky had killed Tony’s parents. Hell, he didn’t even really discuss choosing Bucky over the team with her. Steve had just assumed that Y/N was going to stick with him regardless and because Steve had assumed it, so did everyone else, so she was just forced to go along with it. She had been forced into a pair of restraints while Steve jetted off to Siberia with Bucky. Steve never asked if she even wanted to go on the run with him, once again he just sort of assumed. Y/N just fulfilled her role of the dutiful wife

When Y/N found out that she was pregnant, she wanted to take a plea deal like Scott and Clint did. A life on the run of was no life for a baby and Y/N knew it. She was on the brink of reaching out to Tony when she had told Steve that she was pregnant. The thought of her child having a normal life immediately disintegrated as Steve told her that they were going to make this work. The cracks just keep getting bigger and bigger, spreading further and deeper into their relationship. While she had originally thought there was just a few issues suddenly turned into dozens and dozens of red flags.

Time seems not to touch the cemetery, so she doesn't know how many minutes or hours have passed when someone walks up to stand beside her. Y/N knows who it is immediately, but she doesn't bother to greet him. Instead, her eyes just stay on the headstone and they stand in silence for awhile, Y/N slowly coming to terms with what she was going to have to do.

"I'm not doing this anymore, Steve." Y/N finally announces, forcing it through the emotion that currently strangling her. Her glove covered hands are shoved into her pockets, her wedding ring burning her flesh as she continues, "I want a divorce."

"Y/N, I-" Steve starts, his body turning towards her. Y/N simply shakes her head. She’s utterly exhausted and doesn’t have it in her to fight with him anymore. She feels like she’s aged three lifetimes in the past few years. Y/N loves the man beside her, she truly does, but she knows that she can’t just let this cycle of hurt continue. She couldn’t just forgive Steve and pretend like he hadn’t been cheating on her because there was just so many things wrong in their relationship. Their marriage was damaged beyond repair and Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to fix it. Somethings just don’t need to be fixed and somethings-well somethings shouldn’t be fixed at all.

"Don't. Not here." Y/N tells him cooly, not wanting to fight with him in the last place that is left untouched by their deteriorating relationship. Her eyes study the small Virgin Mary engraved on her son’s grave. They had so many choices of what to put on his headstone, but something had told her to choose Mary. A remnant of her Catholic upbringing, she had told herself at the time. Now she just hoped that the Virgin was watching after her son wherever he was.

“You can keep the apartment. I didn’t even want it. I-I’ll stay upstate with Nat.” She’s leaving no room for arguing, so Steve just nods in response, putting his hands in his pockets. Y/N wanted to tell him to leave, that there was no reason for him to be standing there with her, but James was still his son too, no matter how little he seemingly cared.

So the two of them stood in silence as the cold afternoon turned into an even colder evening in December, the sky darkening quickly. Lampposts flickered on in the cemetery, covering everything in dim, eerie glow. Their breaths came out in small clouds and their toes went numb in their shoes, but they continued to stand there, looking over their son until the sky tuned black above them.

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers

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detectivesplotslies · 3 years

Text

Too many memories, two many occupants

Description: The game is over, and someone has to answer for how it played out. Tsumugi's the obvious answer, as perfectly so as her cosplay. Features VR AU and postgame spoilers. Word Count: 3591 Read on AO3 here

Chapter 1: Beyond Notice

During the trial it had been a lot easier. Having an opposition, having a role, having a part to stick to. There was the audience, there were the fans. There were her brilliant cosplays! There was the vote. She had known what she’d press. She knew where it would get her.

Waving her last, she knew what it really meant. But something within her still grew quiet. Something mourned. The triumphant grin of despair wouldn’t surface, no matter how hard she tried. Her contestants. Her classmates. Her victims. Her cast. They had sentenced her… themselves… to this.

Even though she knew better, she felt numb. Her feet were heavy, rooted to the spot. The others were out of sight. Her executioner flew around above, raining his destruction down on them while she retreated inwards, her vision narrowing. Waving, as her cosplay fell away, as the school crumbled, she should feel the heat of the explosions, but none of that reached her.

She saw the rock. She made no move. Part of her was ready. Part of her was resigned.

It went dark.

Even though Tsumugi knew better she was almost relieved.

Until it was time to wake up.

---

Coming to feels hazy, disorienting. Her limbs jerk awkwardly, as if starting awake from a nightmare, eyes still seeing darkness but hands brushing against cords, glass and consoles. A pair of hands brush her cheek as they remove her headset, and she flinches involuntarily. One of her own hands goes to her face, tugging at its electrical tethers, still taped to her in various nerve points.

She’s not wearing her glasses. Panic washes over her just as the blinding light of the room that refuses to adjust for her does, and her other hand frantically reaches around the pod for where they must have fallen. She’d never leave her glasses. Without her glasses she’s not… she’s…

The light becomes less intense as she blinks, and she can make out the blurry silhouettes of three people in front of her, standing at attention, waiting patiently. One holds a hand outstretched with something silver clasped in it.

Shakily she takes it, unfolding the arms and sliding them carefully onto her face. The unfocused world comes back into sharp clarity. She half recognizes the faces of those who are in front of her. The silence remains. Is she supposed to say something? Eventually the one who returned her glasses clears her throat, and gestures to the others. They begin to remove the wires quickly and efficiently. Tsumugi crosses her arms and rubs at them idly as the rest are secured, feeling like this should be a more private process. As the last wire is removed the one who’s clearly in charge clears her throat again and nods to her.

“The Board would like to see you.”

Slowly, Tsumugi pushes herself out of the seat, wobbling on her feet as she does so, gripping the side of the chair shaped pod, carefully avoiding the lit LCD consoles lining the edges. The trio before her make no moves to help, nor does she request it. The legs beneath her quiver a few times, threatening to fold before her knees lock with some promise of support. Her hand gripping the side betrays the truth though, trembling with effort.

“Alright, take me to them.”

---

They aren’t happy.

There’s some general gratitude that an ending was guaranteed through her actions, but thanks for it are brisk and short lived. There are bigger problems now.

Lost footage was bad enough, but a protest live on air? Sure, there were tons of supportive fans out there with a continued commitment to the brand, but the vocal few were making themselves heard. Sponsors were pulling their funding. Team DanganRonpa needed to make a statement. They refused to take fault, they had the consent waivers, despite the impassioned display on screen. They needed a scapegoat to take the fall, and who better than the face of the disaster? It was for the good of their franchise, and their only chance to hang onto enough profit to keep the company running.

They are firing her.

The show must go on, but they would make a good faith decision to change their methods for the next season. With a brand new production team.They were advancing their technologies still and R&D was indispensable right now, so the focus went towards the writing talent. It was her failure, anyways, they posited. The simulation hadn’t flickered once, even when the jig was up.

Tsumugi is silent and numb as she is told this. Turmoil brews as a debate begins around her about when to release the announcement.

How dare they do this to me? I worked so hard for them! Without me this season would have never got off the ground! Who else had the brilliant idea to move into a space epic? To introduce new worlds for the future of the story? Who risked their life to bring down every last obstacle? Who gave up their classmates? Was chased down for this mad show and they care more about sponsors? How dare they place the blame on a highschooler, when I-

Wait, no, she’s not…

She runs her fingers over her temples gingerly, swaying slightly on her feet. The discussion in front of her ebbs, attention back on her, and some expressions exchanged before they agree to resume once she’s more aware. Perhaps they were too prompt in calling her here, but they had assumed she wouldn’t need long to adjust, since she knew the truth.

They didn’t realize knowing the truth was the crux of her dilemma.

---

Deleting memories when a consciousness was plugged directly into a simulation was very simple. The centers of the brain known to store them were easily targeted without physical intervention, leaving common sense and learned skills. Untethered knowledge, learned without recalling how. The amnesia effect here was valuable. Recalling this knowledge caused a disconnect, and when memories were implanted the brain would do something extraordinary. It would map a route from the presented memory to the knowledge, all on it’s own. Connecting the neural dots and repairing the damage as though it were never there, without guidance or supervision. The human mind was a brilliantly sophisticated device.

Every cast member had been selected with some semblance of knowledge or aptitude for their assigned talent, even if it was utterly average. The knowledge was filled out for each, with painstaking researchers drafting long memories of ancient tomes, infidelity cases, star charts, blueprints, masked faces, island maps and coastal vistas. They filled in as much as possible, but even if they missed something, the mind was resilient, and would work out the holes on its own.

It wasn’t the same for her however.

There was a perk to being the ringleader for the whole affair. The person in charge had to know some of the infrastructure that was keeping them there, some of the motivations. Lest the show fall apart, or even worse be boring. So the game master went into the simulation without memory deletion.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t memories implanted. That would be too simple. They had to provide some true evidence of their talent to back up the enhancement of their skills and knowledge. Without a sturdy foundation built on confidence any additions would crumble and refuse to attach. Having worked in the costume department for a few seasons before her promotion, her suggestion of cosplayer had been approved almost instantly. Soon the research team was looking up Cosplay Masquerade winners from years past and the details of every prized piece of workmanship, photography and character acting they could find, and drafting it into a light for her as well. Tsumugi had been excited, and had even helped pick her absolute favourites to be remembered as costumes she made.

Ideally, this booster pack of memories for her talent would supplement her own enough to use to her fullest if the time came in game. Her script outline didn’t even call for her reveal, but having been behind the scenes a few seasons, she knew a lot more was up to chance than Team Danganronpa liked to let the media know. She wanted a strong backup at her disposal, should the need arise.

However, when the game began, something hadn’t been quite right. Backstory memories were implanted as planned, but the talents were yet to be placed. Already in the simulation, she couldn’t ask The Board if this was deliberate. It could be a marketing scheme to boost audition rates for the next round. But already her concern grew.

The human mind is a fascinating thing.

The others spoke of being grabbed and taken here. The dots were already connecting, firing on all cylinders, looking for solutions to lost memories that didn’t need answering. It wasn’t as though they erased everything of course, it was impossible to work with a blank slate, so the bits remaining were playing havoc with their reactions. She alone had none missing, and merely nodded along. With the arrival of the talent light, she had an inward sigh of relief. Soon it wouldn’t matter, this would overwrite any unintended connections left by this stunt.

They received the memories.

Tsumugi had never expected them to feel so real. Every costume she had lovingly picked out, from footage and articles, she could feel in her hands, as though she touched the fabric and threaded the seams. Every pose she had seen a cosplayer photographed in, she was viewing outwardly, seeing the cameramen she never even imagined existing prior, while holding her position with careful grace. Every character, be they dramatic, loud, shy, soft or brash, came to her in vivid detail. Their tales, their backstories, their struggles, their gestures and voices.

And it clashed against her memories of Danganronpa.

All these characters, all these series, they were not the ones she grew up on. They were new and relevant, often references classics, selected for memorability, for the audience. And yet now they were intimately hers. They crowded for attention, buzzing and vying for a place as her favourite.

Her true favourites, the reason for her years of work and devotion, were shoved to the very back, not forgotten, but duller. Flatter. The Ultimate Cosplayer was vibrant! Though plain outwardly her skills were undeniable! She wasn’t some drop-out made-seamstress made-scenario writer. Why would she ever want to be?

Therefore, it couldn’t be that surprising how lost in thought she was at her introductions, she spent far too long trying to remember the lines she had written to poke a reference to the show. There were a lot more than 52 killing games to think back on now. She regretted not stocking the A/V Room with more of these shows...

----

With an escort, she goes to her office to clear it out. Memorabilia lines the desk and walls, from seasons past. She looks them over passively as she is handed a box, and begins to take each thing down one by one. Every character, name, and mascot was familiar. Security waits at the door, and she wonders why. What could she possibly do here to harm them anymore than she supposedly already had? She had not been allowed online yet to confirm anything told to her, but she had resolved that when they spoke to her again she’d make it a condition before her termination. They couldn’t plainly believe she’d take their word on it when they put her… no that wasn’t right…

They didn’t put her anywhere, she put herself somewhere.

She shakes her head slowly a moment, the numbness in her hands having returned. Before she can react the snowglobe in her grasp slips out of her clumsy unfeeling fingers and shatters on the floor. Water and glitter splash the floor as tiny Monokumas skitter outwards past her feet across the room, freed from their little round prison. Security whirls around to face her at the sharp sound she doesn’t hear. She stands there staring at the base of the glass bauble, dumbfounded.

She vaguely recollects that that had been special. A collector’s item, given to her by someone perhaps? Limited edition? But she felt nothing staring down at the wet shards remaining, her arm hanging limp at her side. Whatever it was before, it was trash now.

Tsumugi is ushered out with her box half packed, with no mention of if she could come back for the rest. Part of her wants to scream to get the rest and cling to it all! It took so long to amass! Without it, what is there to prove her efforts? A larger part of her was happy for it to be out of sight.

She unceremoniously leaves the box in the corner of her recovery room. Not one of her own things is taken out to put anywhere. She likes the room bare and plain. Like her. Just like the girl she thinks she is.

---

Unlike before the game, when the research team and writers had meetings, strategy plans and long discussions, the classroom where Tsumugi stood with the Game Master interface was lonely and cold. There were no intricacies to any of the selections, they were mere branching paths. Sure, she recalled some of the writing details for each from before the season launch, especially the ones she had chosen as her outlined route, but how simply the screen stated them to her was troubling.

The talent had been supposed to be this simple too, but it had depth she hadn’t expected. The selection hovered over the Ultimate Hunt and the mass funeral choices, the ones her writing team had OK’d. She wondered what depth she’d feel seeing fake people mourn her. Would they seem fake?

She pressed the button and waited for the light to pop out of the locker, adjusting her glasses idly and looking out the dark wire barred windows. She thought about her ‘classmates’, who had nothing in their heads remaining to help them deny these. It really was a perfect system. For them.

There was a thud in the locker. Tsumugi returned to her task, like so many all nights she’d pulled before, both real and fictional. She walked over to retrieve it, carefully tucking it into the interior pocket on her coat. Once it was placed that was their plot, no rewrites, no erasing anything. Living the story was a lot more nerve wracking than writing it.

---

Tsumugi knows her way around the building without help, but that doesn’t stop security from falling into step and walking with her whenever she leaves her room. She supposes it’s not to help her, anyways, so it’s not an issue. There’s no regimented schedule for her during recovery, though doctors have visited her room a few times and there was one impromptu check-up with an actual CT scan.

She tells them all she feels fine. Everything is fine. She’s readjusting just fine, thank you for asking. No, no abnormalities. No numbness. No confusion. She does admit to being very tired. That one is a safe answer, it usually makes them leave faster so she can rest. They aren’t very good doctors, she thinks. She wonders if they are just as poorly attentive to the other patients’ issues and lies.

Without a schedule, Tsumugi avoids the cafeteria at what she guesses would be the busier times, but even doing so she has caught glimpses of her cast.

A girl sitting with an untouched meal laid out before her. Her hands clasped in front of her in her lap, eyes hidden behind loose grey hair.

A tall silent boy gazing out one of the few windows into the courtyard. He traces his no longer ringed fingers along the surface.

A coughing bout in the hallway followed by the rush of feet and a familiar loud voice shouting them off.

Echoes of their more vibrant selves, haunting the halls.

She walks into the cafeteria and stops. There are voices but she’s already through the door before she realizes it, eyes darting to the table to the right of the door. Sitting there in what sounded like a disagreement were Shuichi and Maki, with Himiko sitting idly beside the latter cheek resting on the heel of her hand while gazing at the door. The other two don’t notice her but the small redhead locks eyes with her instantly. Her posture stiffens as her eyes widen. The two girls stare at each other for a moment, the conversation a buzz in the background as the air thickens. Shuichi, who’s back is to the door must have noticed because he stops mid-sentence and glances over his shoulder. He freezes.

It’s Maki who stands, nudging Himiko behind her, taking on that intimidating stance. She’s glaring daggers across the room at her, and Tsumugi backs up involuntarily, right into the security guard who was following her into the room. Clumsily, she stumbles forwards to step out of his way and adjusts her glasses, the other three’s eyes still locked on her. Not wanting to leave, but unsure of what to do with herself, Tsumugi steps forwards to the adjacent table and quietly takes a seat.

The eyes on her and the silence are wrong. She’s not someone who gets stared at, at least not when she’s not trying to… this isn’t what she should… what should she…

A placid smile spreads on her face and she nods her head to them. “Good morning, Harukawa-san, Yumeno-san, Saihara-kun.” Her eyes squint almost closed in the forced smile, her cheeks pushing upwards under her glasses that help mask the dark bags. Practiced. Placating. A face both of her make. Painful.

“What do you want?”

Himiko isn’t who anyone expects to talk clearly, Shuichi turning to look at her. Maki squares her shoulders, trying to seem bigger. But the smallest of them narrows her eyes and waits.

“Nothing in particular, really,” Tsumugi drawls, folding her hands in her lap. Out of sight as they clench and fidget.

“Oh sure, your goons won’t give us a moment alone, but you don’t want anything. Like we’d believe that,” Maki says before Himiko can continue, venom in every word. Himiko’s mouth hangs open in the interruption, closing again with a pout.

“My goons,” Tsumugi repeats, noting the pointed look at the security detail that followed her in. “Fortunately, they should have provided you all with your contracts by now, and you can see your rights there. Please do use them to your benefit.”

“Oh right. The contracts we don’t even remember signing,” Himiko mutters.

“That is outlined in them as well.”

“This lack of contact with the outside was not, though,” Shuichi cuts in. The sureness there is from someone who clearly read the contract over more than once. Someone looking for loopholes. The memories he received must still be working overtime. She wonders if he’s as glad to have them as he was when he was when the process was explained? Probably not.

“That’s not my area, I’m afraid the simulation and preparations were my purview, Saihara-kun. Feel free to exert your rights in your contract, though. The company has to uphold it.” The strained smile slides into a more natural one as she continues to speak. It’s easier when it’s not about her.

Shuichi raises a brow. Perhaps he had expected resistance? “So they’re breaking their agreement then, holding us here?” he continues, as if to clarify.

“If that’s what the contract promises, then I suppose that’s the case,” Tsumugi answers. They should feel fortunate they got the opportunity to sign those at all, she thinks. Her hands clench tighter. They are fortunate they don’t remember.

“Like we trust you to keep promises,” Maki spat.

“You don’t have to,” she tuts, “Just use the contract, it’s your tool.”

Maki moves so quickly that thankfully Tsumugi doesn’t have the time to flinch. Himiko grabs her by the crook of the elbow before she’s rounded the table towards her.

“Stop it, let’s just talk somewhere else.”

Himiko stands, and moments later Shuichi follows suit. Maki’s expression doesn’t show any agreement, but she leaves with them nonetheless, glaring back over her shoulder on the way out. The security officers never stray from their posts. As soon as she’s sure they’re gone, Tsumugi lets out a held breath. A few moments pass, and she finally goes to get her meal.

She hopes that they really heard her. Their contracts are so much more flexible than her own. They hadn’t bequeath their identities, their citizenships, they weren’t intellectual property of the company no matter how some of the creative team liked to spin it.Their participation was a limited matter, and she was sure her classmates could argue their way through with that fine print at their disposal. She knew that much. She’d seen them face harder things than legal jargon together of course!

...Her classmates? No. Her cast. Her co-stars. A grimace grows on her face as she returns to sit. They never once had a class together, and the game could hardly be called one… not now. Not with her. Together they could bond in their ignorance. Her contract wasn’t flexible. Her consent was different than theirs. She wasn’t new, or at least not all new.

And she couldn’t leave until they decided the best way for them to kick her out. She takes a bite of her food thoughtfully.

If they can kick me out.

#ndrv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #tsumugi shirogane #shirogane tsumugi #team danganronpa #fic #my writing #danganronpa v3 #vr au #postgame #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #himiko yumeno #my mugi #dissociation #memory #Some of you may remember the preview I posted for this one

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Live And Die This Way

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie Whitnall)

Book: Ride or Die (post book 1)

Word Count: ~5900

Rating: R (language, brief 30 diamond content - N*FW, referenced violence)

Summary: How do you create the life you crave? And what is the cost?

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 4 - MC. This is a direct companion piece to my Colt entry “He Knew” and will reference many of same events covered there, but it does stand on it’s own. This piece was envisioned first, with my Colt piece kind of springing forth from the future I saw for those two while crafting this fic. In addition to the content mentioned in the rating, content warning for infidelity.

Ellie didn’t know how to feel about college. Not so much about her coursework - that always made perfect sense after years of AP and honors classes. More about her “college experience” or whatever cliche phrase described how it was to just live as a freshman in Turren Hall on the west side of Langston’s quad.

She liked her independence. She could eat what she wanted, go where she wanted, do what she wanted. If the end of her senior year had been more traditional, she probably would have been buzzing from all of her freedoms. She had her first taste of alcohol. She made out with a cute boy at a house party. She ate ice cream for dinner and ordered pizza with Rebecca, her roommate, at midnight. She was enjoying herself.

But her new friends acted like these little things were the pinnacle of independence, and it was hard for her to relate to that. Not when she’d experienced the thrill of pushing the speedometer up over 100 MPH, felt the power of an engine revving at 5000 RPM, and jumped from moving vehicle to moving vehicle at highway speeds.

She liked her new friends and classmates well enough, but she never talked to them about who she’d been in Gramercy Park. She didn’t bring up the MPC and her brief time with them. She certainly never mentioned Colt.

It’s not that she disliked college, she just was struggling to put it all together, the person she was in New Hampshire with the person she’d become in LA. On the weekends, she found herself just going on drives, trying to reclaim that thrill, that rush. She found a county highway about 20 miles from campus where she could floor it and feel the speed settling deep into her bones. She always went on these trips alone, even as she started seeing Chris more and more often. He wouldn’t get it.

Chris wanted to officially be her boyfriend. She’d sensed it for months, but he finally asked her one Saturday in April. His roommate had gone home for the weekend, so Ellie had spent the night in his room. She liked Chris well enough. He was a chemical engineering major, he was cute, and with his short, curly, blond hair, he looked nothing like either of the guys that had turned her life upside down one year earlier.

The trouble was any connection between them was superficial. On paper, they seemed so similar - both of them had been valedictorian, science and math nerds, only children raised in protective Catholic households. But he only saw “Langston Ellie,” he only liked that part of her. He didn’t have this drive for something more - more thrilling, more adventurous, more stimulating. So she kept things between them casual, and when summer break rolled around and she made her way back to LA, she didn’t feel any guilt about trying to track down Colt.

He must have gotten a new phone with a new number as part of his plan to “lay low” and evade arrest, and Kaneko Auto Shop was still a boarded up shell, scorch marks visible along the walls. But she eventually found him, less than 36 hours before she was leaving, of course. It was almost fitting, seeing him at the sideshow, the place where she’d first met him. She wasn’t sure if he saw her, but she spotted him right away, standing off in the shadows, talking with a couple of men, wearing that same leather jacket.

At some point, he must have noticed her, because he couldn’t just let her dance with Darius and Riya. Instead, he’d wrapped his arm around her waist, and it was like stepping into a time machine, as if no time had passed, as if they’d seen each other last week, not last year. Riding back to his new place and falling into bed with him was the first time she’d felt truly awake in ages.

Any illusion that sex with Colt just seemed better than sex with Chris because he’d been her first and she hadn’t had a point of comparison went straight out the window. It wasn’t that sex with Chris was bad, but with Colt… it was raw and primal and intense, and those were not ever words that could be used to describe Chris. Chris in bed seemed scared he would hurt her, so he just tried to coax her to the peak of pleasure. Colt wanted to stake claim, to possess her, to drive her higher and higher. He knew how strong she really was, and it made her heart soar.

She knew she was heading back to New Hampshire, and that tonight with Colt would be just that - one night. It’s why she didn’t ask him about the Brotherhood. Hearing about his inevitable ventures into bloody vengeance would just lead to a fight, and there was little point in ruining this little moment in time with that. This was a reprieve, not a promise, and that meant some things were better left unsaid.

So the sun came up and Colt drove Ellie back to her father’s home, but not before adding his new number to her phone. She packed up her suitcase and tanked up the Shokai Fourier and made the drive across the country, back to Langston and a world of academics and being a “good girl.” But now she had another outlet. Anytime she craved that thrill, she would text him. Sometimes it was a bratty little insult. Sometimes it was a barely clothed selfie. But he always responded. And as she started sophomore year, it felt like she might be figuring out a way to merge the two sides of her life.

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

Texting Colt became a new form of an adrenaline rush when she somehow stumbled into a relationship with Chris. She knew it was wrong, that Chris didn’t deserve the way she was treating him. Being kind of dull was not failing. But the problem was that “Langston Ellie” didn’t have a reason not to date him. So over Valentine’s dinner, he became her boyfriend.

It was a balance, that thrill that came from sneaking out for a drive or shooting Colt a dirty little text versus the pit of guilt that sat in her stomach. She tried to justify it to herself when the guilt got to be too much, telling herself that nothing physical had happened with Colt while she and Chris were together, but that was a flimsy excuse.

The issue was that she felt like herself, vibrant and happy, and the more she pushed the boundaries on what was acceptable in her personal life, the more she excelled elsewhere. She was setting the curve in almost all her classes. Her research was going well enough to get approved for the Summer Scholars Program, which came with a generous stipend. It’s like she had to be doing something “wrong” to feel complete, and since stealing cars wasn’t an option at the moment, this is what she settled for. She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person.

But she kept living her double life for months and months until one day in October, things all came to a head. She got a call from a number with a 310 area code, but she didn’t recognize it, so she let it go to voicemail. When she finally got a chance to listen to it an hour later, after her meeting with Dr. Frisch, it felt like the world might just swallow her whole. Her father was too young, too healthy to have a heart attack, to need bypass surgery, to be in the ICU.

It had taken her 15 hours to email her advisor, request a leave of absence, and receive approval, email Dr. Frisch to withdraw from his research group, and to pack up her room in the off-campus apartment she and Rebecca were renting and load up the Shokai Fourier. She spent far too much of that time breaking up with Chris.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to let him know about Dad until he’d texted her after dinner time, asking if she was still on for an ice cream run to Gilly’s. What followed was him coming over, with hours of talking, of him trying to calm her, tell her everything was going to be fine. She’d gotten frustrated, asked him how he could possibly know her dad was going to be okay. It was messy and awful, their first and last fight, all culminating with her kicking him out and sending him back to his apartment when he dared to suggest she was too emotional to be making these decisions in the moment.

The drive to LA was a long one, filled with tears and regrets. It felt like her fault. She’d put him through hell senior year, only to leave him all alone to flit off to college, where she had just coasted by, chasing down the high of adrenaline in destructive ways. Instead of stopping at a motel to rest, she drove the 3000 miles basically straight through, resting for a few hours in a parking lot in Iowa, but otherwise relying on Red Bull and coffee to get her through the drive. She’d gone to drop off her stuff at her father’s place, but when she arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to unlock the door. Even though the latest update from Dr. Ginde had been that her father was improving, she couldn’t bear to go inside, to see memories of him and her mother plastered everywhere, all by herself.

So she’d driven over to Gramercy Park. The shop was open now. She knew that was the plan, but it was still nice to see it with her own two eyes. She locked her car and went inside, taking in the bustle and the activity, cars hoisted on jacks, an air compressor hissing in the background. If she had recognized any of the people working in the shop, she almost could have believed that no time had passed.

Some guy with dreads went to go find Colt for her as she stood there, feeling both out of place and at home at the same time. Finally, he emerged, grease streaks on his t-shirt and jeans, his hair just a little shorter than she remembered. He took her into his office and listened as she told him what happened. No questions, no platitudes, no infantilization. Just understanding and comfort, and when she told him she didn’t know how to go home alone, he’d just told her to follow him back to his place.

Staying with Colt was like falling back into a former life. She hung around the garage, reconnected with Ximena, and went out racing and to sideshows. She visited her dad every day in the hospital and then in the rehab facility, taking notes on all his doctor’s instructions and researching new, heart-healthy recipes for them to eat as she got him settled back in at home. And even though she and Colt never talked about it, suddenly they were together, with her toiletries tucked into his medicine cabinet, a second towel hung in the bathroom, and her favorite yogurt stocked in the fridge. It all felt comfortable, and she felt at peace with her life for the first time in a long time. She could get that adrenaline rush she craved so badly as she drag raced through the streets, getting to know Colt’s new crew, and she wasn’t hurting anyone to do so. She felt happy, so as October bled into November, she emailed her advisor, preparing to extend her leave of absence.

She never thought Colt would object to her plans to stick around, but he was cruel and livid when she told him she wasn’t heading back. At first, her anger flared, righteous and indignant. How dare he try to tell her what to do. She’d thrown her clothes that were scattered around his place back into her duffel bag and headed straight to her father’s home. He didn’t comment when she tossed her bag into her old bedroom, just pulled out the Parcheesi board and sat down at his usual spot at the kitchen table.

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling, so she made her way into the kitchen.

“Dad, you can’t have bacon anymore. It’s not on your ‘safe foods’ list.”

“I figured whatever sent you here yesterday might warrant an ‘Ellie special,’” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s turkey bacon.”

She bit her lip as she sat down at the table, wondering if she should risk stressing him out by bringing it up, but he crossed the bridge first as he set her plate in front of her.

“I suppose you were staying with that boy with the yellow GT?”

She shook her head. “No, the boy with the motorcycle.”

Dad just let out a sigh and gave his head a little shake. “They’re all still wanted criminals, Ellie. The statute of limitations hasn’t run out. But I suppose you already know that.”

“Dad…”

“Look, I know you’re an adult, and you can make your own choices. But I hope you know what you’re doing here. If you get caught up with him in something again… I won’t be able to spin it that you were just a kid who got roped into the whole thing by a dirty cop who convinced you that you could be an informant and help him.”

“I know what I’m doing, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t. That’s what scares me the most. Oh well, you’ll be back at Langston soon enough, I suppose.”

It was Ellie’s turn to sigh as she filled him in on how her plan had been to stay, to work in LA and to help him recover, at least for one more semester. When she finished, Dad just stared at her for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, before he spoke.

“So, let me see if I have this right. This… Colt told you to go back and finish your degree?” As she nodded, he just shook his head. “Never thought I would be on the same side as a little punk.”

She shoved her chair back from the table, abandoning her breakfast. “Dad, it doesn’t matter whose side you’re on, because it doesn’t matter what you think or what he thinks. This is my choice.”

But as the days ticked by, and her dad seemed stronger and stronger, she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She’d gotten upset because it felt like Colt was trying to decide what was best for her, but as she thought back on their fight with a clearer head, that wasn’t really a fair assessment. He wasn’t trying to control her; he was trying to push her. At the end of the day, he liked her strong and sharp, ready for the next challenge. And while being back in LA felt good and right in so many ways, just hanging around after her father’s medical emergency wasn’t the way to go about it. She wanted to come back here, but she needed to do so the right way, as an active choice, not a passive situation that just happened.

So she went back to school and worked her ass off, taking summer classes to make up for the shitty schedule with not enough engineering credits she had to settle for after she registered late for classes. She was a semester behind now, but that was manageable. She lost her research position, but that was okay. She didn’t need to build her resume anymore. She had a job lined up already.

When she signed papers granting her 50% ownership of Kaneko Auto Shop, everyone in her life thought she was crazy. Rebecca had pestered her for months with info about engineering firms that were hiring and master’s programs. Riya had told off Darius for telling her she was being foolish, but as soon as he left to go get them takeout, she’d told her she must be out of her mind to legally tie herself to that Kaneko boy in any way. Her father just shook his head and went into his bedroom, closing the door with a thud. But Ellie didn’t care. It was the first time she’d felt fully alive in almost five years.

It was invigorating, to finally be living a life that was 100% her choosing. She wasn’t held back by her father’s restrictions, her peers’ perceptions, her own perfectionistic expectations of herself. She was just… Ellie. She wasn’t bound by anything or anyone. All her fears, concerns, and worries were nothing in the face of all the possibilities ahead of her. Ahead of them.

Colt had always seen her. It was why she’d been drawn to him in the first place. He didn’t treat her like a child that needed protecting. He respected her agency, her autonomy, her abilities. He respected her opinions and suggestions, and slowly but surely, they were able to expand and grow the shop and their territory. Not too fast, as that would attract the attention of both rivals and law enforcement, but steady enough that people had to take them both seriously. He wasn’t just coasting on his father’s reputation, and she wasn’t some sheltered little girl who had slept her way into this world. They proved themselves, and they were thriving. And finally, Ellie felt like she was living the life she was supposed to be. She felt like herself, fully realized and alive.

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

It’s not that she and Colt lived in some bubble of pure domestic and professional bliss. They disagreed about how aggressive to be when rival crews inched in on their turf, about whether a drop would be worth the payout, about whether or not the new mechanic was trustworthy enough to drive on their next big job. And when they disagreed, they disagreed. It was never violent, but it was loud and passionate. They pushed each other time and time again. It was just how they worked things out, and they always were able to come to an understanding in the end.

Ellie never questioned their arrangement until she was pregnant. In their four years as equal partners, both personally and professionally, she’d never had any qualms about the life they were living. It was exciting and thrilling, but their risks were always calculated, or so it had seemed. They were smart about things. It’s why their territory had nearly doubled in size over those four years with only one misdemeanor arrest for petty theft for their entire crew over that time.

But when she heard that heartbeat over the sonogram, Ellie knew that she had to change the way she thought about risk and reward, because risks that were acceptable to take when it was just her and Colt, conquering south LA one block at a time, where not okay when there was going to be a child at home depending on them. Colt, on the other hand, seemed to take the opposite approach. He was hungrier and more ambitious than ever. He wanted to move more volume, expand to new neighborhoods, to grow bigger more quickly than ever.

“This will be our legacy. All of this, rebuilt and passed on to our kid,” he told her over and over again. And any of her pleas to slow things down, to take a step back, were met with annoyance and frustration. “If we slow down, we won’t be able to keep what we have now. Others will take notice and swoop in. It’ll be a moment of weakness.”

He worked nearly around the clock, always trying to strike a better deal, to find a better score. Part of her had even worried that he would have left her at the hospital with just her father if he got word of a deal on hot merchandise while she was in labor. But when the contractions came, he was at her side the entire time. He was antsy and impatient, sure, but most of that was probably due to having to spend 26 hours straight in a confined space with Dad. Over the years, that relationship had never evolved beyond frosty tolerance.

When Margot Graciela Kaneko came into the world, 6 lbs 4 oz and screaming like a banshee, Ellie swore she saw Colt wipe a tear away. She hadn’t seen him cry since that awful night in May nine years ago, when he’d had to watch his father sacrifice himself. When she forgot all about how horrible it was that Colt had kidnapped and planned murders because he’d looked so broken and human, not at all like a ruthless kingpin wannabe who had no moral code. With all their shared daddy issues, it had felt cruel to bring up her concerns about his moral compass when his world had just shattered to pieces.

For his part, Dad cried openly when she told him his granddaughter’s name, forgiving the use of Kaneko as her surname when he realized she shared her middle name with the abuela she would never get to meet. For a moment, they felt like a normal family. Not a detective father who had to turn a blind eye as his daughter and her boyfriend ran one of the ten largest auto theft crews in LA. Just three adults who loved a little baby girl more than anything.

Colt was always a loving father. He adored Margot, and she wanted for nothing. Toys and clothes and books littered her nursery in their new two bedroom house, a home security system installed with door and window alarms, motion sensors, and security cameras. He took pride in every developmental milestone she reached and bragged about her constantly. The office at the shop was covered with her drawings, and when she started 4K, her first attempts at writing letters and numbers joined her colorings and paintings.

He just didn’t seem to have any desire to strike a work-life balance. It didn’t exactly surprise Ellie. They had both thrown themselves into that shop for years, their only goal and purpose. For both of them, work had been their life. But now, she felt like they needed to handle things a little differently. More cautious, less aggressive in their growth schemes. It was a point of disagreement between them regularly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, Ellie. I’m building this for us. For her. Since when are you fucking timid about growing the shop?”

“It would be nice if you could eat dinner at home with us more than a couple of times a month.”

“Just bring her for dinner with the crew.”

Round and round, over and over. Her asking him to take a step back and spend more time with Margot while he dove deeper and deeper into his work, acting like bringing Margot into that world as a preschooler was a solution. At times it felt like her own personal Groundhog’s Day, her living the same day with the same damn fight time and time again.

She’d been venting to Mona one afternoon in a coffee shop as she waited for a contact to bring them info about a new shipment that should be passing through over the weekend. It was a little risky, combining her work with a meeting with Mona now that she worked as a consultant on grand larceny cases for the LAPD. Initially it had been a condition of her parole, but it ended up suiting Mona just fine. She was a free-lancer at this point, so she only took the cases that she wanted, and she was well paid for it. Not as well-paid as Colt and Ellie, but without the overhead and without the risk.

“He just is so single-minded, and he doesn’t understand why it bothers me.”

Mona laughed at that. “He’s Kaneko’s kid, Ellie. I don’t know what else you were expecting when you picked him over Logan.”

It was strange to think about it like that. She knew that Logan and Colt had both wanted her back then. And for a while, she and Logan were happy. But while Logan had tried to shield her from his world, Colt had encouraged her to immerse herself further. He saw potential in her, and it had been so liberating, being seen as a woman, not a child. And once it came out that Logan had only pursued her at Kaneko’s instruction, she’d just been done. She felt like a pawn and a fool, hurt and violated, so she’d turned to the only person she could count on to be blunt and direct, to respect enough at least for that.

“Have you heard from Logan at all?”

Mona shook her head. “I think he made it to Detroit, but that was years ago.”

“I hope he’s doing okay,” Ellie said as she took a sip of her coffee. Mona just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push that topic any further. She was right. The traits that drew her to Colt in the first place were wrapped tightly with the ones that frustrated her now, all of which were proof that he was very much his father’s son.

“So other than Colt being an ass, how’s life?” Mona asked, drawing Ellie out of her nostalgic musings. She pulled out her phone and showed her a video of Margot cruising around on her new balance bike. For better or worse, this was the life she had chosen, and for all its frustrations, she knew she still had plenty to appreciate. She wouldn’t have wanted a different life, anyway.

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

Margot was heavy in her arms as she rang the doorbell, praying that he wasn’t working tonight. He really wasn’t supposed to be working nights at all anymore - his cardiologist’s recommendation as part of numerous lifestyle changes - but Ellie knew he would still pick up an overnight now and then. She’d never really felt like she was in a position to question his judgement given her own career choices.

She rang the bell three times before she saw a light flip on the hallway. She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted to have to pick the lock. A few seconds later, the door cracked open. Her father looked disoriented, his hair sticking out in numerous directions, wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an old Honor Roll Parent t-shirt.

“Ellie? What’s going-” he started, but dropped his voice to a whisper when he noticed Margot passed out against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Ellie nodded. “We just need a place to stay.”

He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say more, but after a second, he just nodded and stepped aside, letting them pass through the door. He followed a few steps behind. Ellie could feel him staring at her as she carried her daughter into her old bedroom, tucking her in on the far side of the bed.

“I need to go grab our stuff from my car. Can you stay with her? She’s going to be confused if she wakes up and isn’t in her bed.”

Dad just nodded again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his hand soothingly over the back of his granddaughter’s head. When Ellie returned with the duffel bag and tote bags she managed to fill, all she knew she could carry at the same time as Margot, she dropped them on the floor. Anytime she had come to stay before, she’d only brought a couple days worth of clothes, so she knew the amount of luggage she’d brought was going to attract attention. He was a detective, after all.

“How long are you staying?”

All she could do was shake her head, willing herself not to cry. She felt lost and heartbroken, but more than that, she felt stupid. Stupid for ignoring everyone’s warnings about Colt, for thinking that she could have the thrills and excitement of that life without causing serious harm, for having a child with a man who could order the murder of someone without batting an eyelash.

Dad stood up and crossed over to her, wrapping his arms around her, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. She started sobbing into his chest, feeling like a child all over again. But the pain kept pouring out of her, and her father just took it all, even after everything she’d put him through over the past 13 years. And when the tears finally slowed, she let him guide her to her old bed and tuck her in right next to her daughter.

The next week was filled with rounds of Candyland and Guess Who, drives out for ice cream and donuts, and trips to the park with Abuelo. All things that Margot loved, things that would hopefully keep her happy and from asking questions that Ellie wasn’t ready to answer. How do you tell your four year old that her Daddy, the man she thought was the best on the planet, had decided to make some phone calls to end a man’s life, so they couldn’t live with him anymore? Ellie just wanted to put off that conversation for as long as possible.

But Margot was bright and curious, and all the distraction in the world wasn’t enough to make her forget her home and her father. Ellie stumbled through it the best she could, telling her that Daddy had done something very naughty that he thought was the right choice, but that was actually something really bad.

“Is Daddy in a timeout?” she asked as Ellie tucked her in, her brown eyes wide with wonder.

“Kind of, sweetie.”

“How long do Daddy’s timeouts last?”

“A long time, Margot. A very long time.”

She nodded, like it all made sense to her now. Ellie knew she couldn’t keep her from Colt forever, but until she felt like she had her feet under her again, this was probably the best approach she could hope for. She dropped a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and flipped off the lights, gently closing the door and making her way into the kitchen.

The Mancala board was set up this time. While the days were filled with fun activities for Margot, the nights had been a series of board games, just her and Dad. Just like the old days. He hadn’t asked her many questions. Ellie suspected he was so glad she had left Colt, that he didn’t want to push his luck and say the wrong thing that might send her running back to him. But tonight she was going to have to broach the subject.

“Dad, can you watch Margot tomorrow night?” she asked as she dropped her stones down, one by one, working her way around the board.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Probably to the shop or our house. I’m going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“He’s… been riding by on that... bike of his,” Dad ground out, glancing up across the table, his eyes flitting nervously. Like she hadn’t known that was the case. She knew exactly what his bike sounded like. Besides, she knew it would be his next step. She had dozens of voicemails and unread texts from him.

“I know.”

“Do you… what I mean is… what do you want me… are you… Ellie-”

“We’re done, Dad. I don’t want to see him.” She interrupted his ramblings, and glanced up from the Mancala board at him. His shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. “But we have a kid together. I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

He let out a little hum as he contemplated his next move. “Ellie, what happened?”

She shook her head. No way he wouldn’t feel obligated to turn Colt in if he heard that he’d ordered Shaw’s shanking. “I really can’t tell you.”

“If he did something that-”

“-I still own 50% of the shop, Dad. Plus, he’s Margot’s father. This is going to be hard enough on her without him behind bars.”

She could practically feel her father’s stare, attempting to bore a hole in the top of her head as she kept her eyes on the board. She knew he wanted to know more, wanted to say more. Finally, he said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you’re looking at a custody battle, him behind bars would be very helpful.”

She turned her head up and frowned. “I’m not going to throw him to the wolves. It won’t make things better, trust me.”

“Honey, you say that now, but when custody battles get going-”

“He’s not gonna fight me for custody,” Ellie interrupted. “Not as long as I let him see her every now and then.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m gonna let him buy me out of the shop well below market value. That’s always been his priority, anyway.” She’d been mulling it over in her mind, and it seemed like her best move. They both got what they wanted. As long as she promised not to do what his mother had done, to take his kid and move as far away as possible, he would probably agree. He got his father’s legacy and a relationship with his daughter. She got the chance to shield her daughter from the harshest realities of the world where she was born. It was win-win.

She knew she was screwed professionally at this point. She’d spent the nine years since college in a job that would do little for her resume. It was a small price to pay for her daughter’s safety and well-being, though.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to get enough to get a little apartment for us, at least until I figure out what I can do for work-” she started explaining, but Dad reached across the table and grabbed her hand, cutting her off.

“You’ll both stay here as long as you need.”

“Dad, you’ve already dealt with so much of this drama. I’m not going to ask you to house us indefinitely.”

He shook his head, still holding tight to her hand. “I know you could do it on your own if you had to, Ellie. You are bright and resourceful and so determined when you need to be. But I’m your dad, and this something I can do to help you out and keep you safe.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words. His desire to protect her from a harsh world was still there all those years later. And while it had been the bane of her existence as a teenager who thought she could handle everything that life would throw her way, his attitude felt different now that she had Margot sleeping in her childhood bed, a direct result of her own attempt to protect her child.

“Thank you, Dad,” she choked out, forcing a smile as a couple of tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

“Of course, Honey. You’re both my girls, always.”

He was right, more right than he could know. Because if Colt was cut from the same cloth as his father, well, so was she, at least where it counted. She would protect her daughter and as a family, they would get through the bad times. She hadn’t always made the right choices, but she had her daughter and she had her father. And for the time being, that would have to be enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

ROD: @mskaneko @burnsoslow

#rodaw #colt kaneko #colt x mc #rod fanfic #choices fanfiction #n*fw #cw: infidelity

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doctorcanon · 3 years

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The Final Days of Ryoko Shinonome (Modern AU Idea)

Just something that randomly came to me. A modern AU with the Older pilots in mind. It would take place in Okinawa during the closure of several Army Bases (that have reopened since) in 2007 when Bush was in office and leaving several Japanese and American servicemen who fought in the Middle East at the height of the conflict without any VA benefits, unable to join the Japanese Defense Force and many with debilitating injuries, specifically loss of eye sight. Will handle subjects such as: Terminal Illness, Narcissistic Parental abuse, PTSD, Infidelity and Death = like lots of discussion about death.

Ryoko Shinonome: A 35 year old civil engineer who has been diagnosed with metastatic brain cancer. Despite battling it for a number of years, she now has a very limited time to live. Suffering from cognitive impairment and Vascular Dementia, she needs constant round the clock care. Her adopted brother Ei moved in with her after her fiance Tetsuya suddenly called off the wedding shortly after her diagnosis. However, she often forgets and Ei has to break her heart all over again. On the days she’s aware of her condition, she’s started getting her affairs in order and is currently working with Renya Gouto to arrange her own funeral and cremation.

Ei Sekigahara: Ryoko’s younger brother, though they aren’t related by blood. Her primary caretaker due to the fact that he’s recently been released from military service and doesn’t have a 9 to 5 job. The stress of Ryoko’s care and his own personal demons have really done a number on his mental health. He ends up having to hire a hospice nurse who encourages him to attend a support group for veterans. Can and will kill Tetsuya Ida on sight.

Iori Fuyusaka: Ei Sekigahara’s girlfriend and Tsukasa Okino’s Younger sister, a beloved elementary school teacher and all around ray of sunshine. She and Ryoko didn’t really get along in the first place but the latter got violent with her during one of her episodes. She truly does want to help, but only seems to be making the situation worse. Something her mother Chihiro says she’s quite good at.

Keitaro Mirua: A Routine Care hospice nurse hired by Ei Sekigahara for Ryoko, also a former soldier. Honestly, the man is a goddamn saint; he’s sweet, kind and maybe even a little shy. He’s been through a lot after he was injured in the field. Now that he has control over his life, he wants to help others. He attends a support group for former combat veterans and encourages Ei to attend as well. Trying to find the perfect ring to propose to his girlfriend.

Takatoshi Hijiyama: Miura’s closest friend and Tsukasa Okino’s husband. Also attends the same support group. Really, really struggling to adjust to civilian life, even more so after realizing that his injuries are more severe than originally thought. He has, however, discovered a great love of cooking through his physical therapy and enjoys taking care of his often workaholic husband, sometimes too much if you ask Tsukasa.

Tsukasa Okino: Former coworker and friend of Ryoko Shinonome and very talented Biomedical Engineer. Tends to get really lost in his work and hasn’t heard from Ryoko in a long time and is shocked to hear that her condition is terminal. This puts a lot into perspective not just with his husband but with his family. He decides to reach out to his estranged sister Iori. Unfortunately, Iori wants to bring their mother into it.

Yuki Takamiya: A physical therapist who once treated Shinonome and became pretty close with her and Ei. Occasionally comes by to drop off meals and see how Sekigahara is doing. Sometimes she invites him to the kickboxing gym to get him out of the house, she thinks that the support group is a good idea. After all, therapy helped her a great deal after her husband passed away.

Shu Amiguchi: Met Yuki Takamiya while visiting Ryoko, his former coworker, at the hospital and hasn’t left her alone since. A fellow engineer, he’s much smarter than he lets on. He works pretty closely with Okino too. He was actually really close to Ryoko since she dated his brother Tetsuya. Ei doesn’t really like him, but his weekly visits make Ryoko happy so they don’t talk that much. He believes that Tetsuya broke up with her because of her condition and that was the last straw and he stopped speaking to him.

Natusno Minami: Miura’s girlfriend, Iori’s coworker and Yuki Takamiya’s little sister. The absolute life of the party and a joy to be around. She’s the reason Keitaro Miura is still alive. Knows Ei more through the kickboxing gym and hasn’t really made the connection that Keitaro’s newest patient is Ei’s sickly sister that he keeps mentioning. She and Miura have been dating for almost six years now and she’s really starting to wonder if they are ready to spend their lives together.

Tomi Kisaragi: The elementary music teacher at the same school as Natsuno and Iori and a voice teacher outside of those work hours. The sounding board for a lot of relationship issues despite the fact that she’s not that helpful. She and Tsukasa Okino are old friends from high school. She’s the one who convinced him to help Megumi get a job at Shikishima as an engineer. May or may not have a history with Tetsuya Ida. She doesn’t like to talk about it.

Nenji Ogata: Tomi’s Not-boyfriend and a supervisor at Shikishima’s sales branch is often used as a liaison with the R&D department. Since he was desperate to make a name for himself outside of his family name, Nenji has an...interesting past. After falling on some hard times, his father, a former executive of Shikishima, gave him a job. Needless to say, his department doesn’t like him and he takes on a lot of extra work and stresses himself out. A frequent visitor to the kickboxing gym so he knows Takamiya, Minami, Hijiyama and Sekigahara pretty well.

Juro Kurabe: Once known as Juro Izumi. An old friend of Ei Sekigahara who suffered a TBI in the field and is basically a different person. Underwent cognitive therapy alongside several other patients including Ryoko Shinonome. He and Ryoko are close friends and he’s just devastated about her diagnosis. Another person who will assassinate Tetsuya Ida on sight. Works with Yuki Takamiya quite a bit but is having a lot of trouble with mobility.

Megumi Yakushiji: She really looks perfect on the outside. She’s great at her job, a great cook and a near perfect caretaker to her husband Juro. However, appearances can be deceiving. The man she married and the man she’s taking care of are two different people. But her love for Juro might not be enough to get her through their hardest day, sometimes he doesn’t even remember her. There’s only one person who sees the cracks in her facade, not her best friend Tomi or her coworker Tsukasa but Tsukasa’s husband Takatoshi who keeps asking her for recipes.

Renya Gouto: An Undertaker at Ashitaba City’s Death Services and Mortuary. He knew Ei and Ryoko in high school but now is making arrangements for Ryoko’s cremation and general funeral services. Out of everything he’s done, he’s never spoken to someone who wants to arrange their own funeral and is the only other person who knows that Ryoko is arranging her own funeral without Ei knowing. He’s a close friend of Dr. Morimura therefore he’s familiar with Iori and Tsukasa. That’s not a good thing.

Chihiro Morimura: Dr. Chihiro Morimura is a retired oncologist who is trying to repair her relationship with her kids Iori and Tsukasa. Unfortunately, she sucks at it. While she can help Iori with her situation with Ei and his sister, she and Tsukasa will probably never get along. Who would have thought that years of narcissistic abuse would affect their relationship?

Tetsuya Ida: Ryoko’s ex-fiancee. Broke up with Ryoko after she was diagnosed with brain cancer. Has no idea about her severe condition but wouldn’t be surprised. He still works at Shikishima but not in the engineering department. Refuses to talk about her and is quite aware that several people are out for his head. He doesn’t care.

Miwako Sawatari: A kindergarten teacher who’s a bit of a gossip but really does it out of love. She knows a little bit about everyone. She works at Iori and Natsuno’s school, is a close friend of Nenji, she’s one of Yuki’s patients, and volunteers at Ashitaba Death Services. What I’m saying is, she’s the only person who knows exactly what’s happening.

#13 sentinels #13 sentinels: aegis rim #13 sentinels spoilers

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ao3feed-ichiruki · 1 year

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Just Friends

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9N4Dt2j

by LunaticR

* IchiRuki * AU * Adult Characters * This story starts with RenRuki but ends with a beautiful IchiRuki

Words: 5598, Chapters: 1/7, Language: English

Fandoms: Bleach (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/9N4Dt2j

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #ichiruki

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carriagelamp · 4 years

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~ Queer Lit 30 Day Book Challenge ~

I decided to do this challenge I came across for June! Originally it was designed as a “day-by-day” thing, but my June was way too hectic to do a write up every single day… so I decided to make a nice compilation for the end of the month instead!

This is perhaps not the “purest” form of the challenge but I wanted it to be personal for me. Growing up when I did and where I did, I had very little exposure to queer books, especially age-appropriate queer books. That being said, there’s some books on this list that are really only “queer” by technically, or through a secondary character rather than the main character. I debated whether to include these but finally decided that, yes, I would. I owe it to myself. Even though some of these books that aren’t “as queer” as other, they were (or are) really important to me as a queer person and my journey is understanding that, so I wanted to acknowledge them!

More info about the books and the challenge under the cut!

Day One: First Queer Book You Remember Reading

Color by Taishi Zaou and Eiki Eiki

Remember how I mentioned a lack of available, age-appropriate queer books? I was one of those kids who was definitely exposed (probably too young) to queer manga/yaoi. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, especially as a wee ace teen, but it was the best I had at the time and it meant the world to me at the time, to see same-sex relationships even if looking back on them is very “YIKES”.

I’m sure I read others before this, but Color is one of the first that I really remember and which I a) actually owned and which b) wasn’t completely repellent in hindsight! I haven’t reread it in probably over a decade so I have no idea how it stands up, but at the time it read like a much more “realistic” account of two teenagers developing a crush and starting a relationship and as a questioning teenager it really helped me realize that this was a real, viable option.

Day Two: Queer Book That Reminds You Of Home

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag

I hummed and hawed about this one for a long time because honestly I tend to read books that make me feel far from home. I decided to go with The Witch Boy though because it’s a story that challenges gender norms and stars a large family out in the woods, running wild and exploring magic, and honestly it gives me vibes that remind me of vacationing with my extended family. We’re also partially ginger and inclined to run wild in the woods. If we knew magic we’d have used it for sure.

This book is about 13 year old Aster, who lives in a family where the women all become witches and the men all become shifters. Aster, however, has no interest in shapeshifting and instead finds ways to study magic and learn the arts of witchcraft while constantly being pushed out by his female relatives… though everything might change when a new danger, that may or may not be connected to Aster studying magic, begins to appear.

Day Three: Queer Book That Has Been On Your TBR Too Long

Beneath The Citadel by Destiny Soria

That was an easy choice, this has been sitting on my bookshelf for months, staring at me accusingly every time I enter my room. I’m really excited to read it (Magical heist? Rebellion? With an asexual protagonist? Yes please) but for some reason I have not gotten around to it. Some day, baby, some day.

Day Four: Queer Book With A Name Or Number In The Title

George by Alex Gino

George is an absolutely charming middle grade novel about a child named George who the world perceives as male… but who knows she’s definitely a girl. The novel begins when her class decided to put on a play about the novel they had just read: Charlotte’s Web. George is desperate to play Charlotte, her favourite character, but isn’t even allowed to try out because it’s a “girl’s role”. George and her best friend struggle with how to handle this problem and manage George’s secret amid elementary school and home drama.

This book is really adorable – it was a nice, easy, cozy read for an adult, and would also make a great read aloud to elementary-age children if you want to introduce them to transgender characters.

Day Five: Queer Book Where The Protag Has A Fun Job

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

Not actually a queer protagnoist, but a queer side character who plays a major role in the series. Mister Vernon, one of Leila’s fathers, has arguable the coolest job: he’s a retired stage magician turn magic shop owner, which is complete with large rabbit, hidden room, and tons of fascinating gadgets to help a young practical magician learn their trade. He is hands down one of the neatest character in the series and is a major catalyst throughout the series.

The first book follows Carter, a runaway orphan who practices street magic to get by, as he runs away from his horrible uncle and winds up meeting a gang of magic-loving friends in a small town. Hiding from his uncle is only the beginning though, and the mysteries surrounding the town and Mister Vernon become thicker and thicker as the series goes on.

Day Six: Favourite Queer Graphic Novel

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

There’s lots of fantastic queer graphic novels out there, but I have to name Check, Please! as my favourite (and not just because I’m Canadian and am legally obligated to at least show interest in a hockey story). Check, Please! is the friggin cutest story about Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater and avid baker, who joins the Samwell University hockey team. The story is told in the form of Bitty’s vlog as he recounts the bizarre quirks of the Samwell hockey team, his struggle to overcome his fear of checking, and his growing crush on the team captain, Jack. Seriously guys, this is cavity-inducing sweetness and you can read it all online for free, here on tumblr @omgcheckplease or at its own website, checkpleasecomic.

Day Seven: Queer Book You Often Reread

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Another book I haven’t reread in years, but this was the first queer novel I ever read (and owned!) so I read it obsessively, first the copy from the high school library and then my own copy (which is, let us say, well-thumbed by this point). It was pure fluff, in an aggressively diverse, relentlessly accepting, rainbow-coloured high school and it was exactly what I wanted in high school, and it still makes me happy whenever I remember it. It’s a straight-up high school romance, pretty traditional to the genre, but it has the most delightful supporting cast you could ever ask for. Maybe I should reread it again this summer…

Day Eight: Queer Book With A Happy Ending

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

This was a bit more of a “yeah it was fine” book for me, but honestly… queer people deserve some average, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies. As far as my normal reading preferences go, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies are my bread and butter. And this one has a cute sapphic romance to go with it. It’s about Denna, a princess with a dangerous secret: she has a magical Affinity for fire, despite being betrothed to the prince of a kingdom that aggressively prosecutes and fears magic-users. So now Denna is in a strange land, trying to hide her increasingly volatile magic, solve an assassination that rocked the kingdom, and deal with the growing connection between her and the prince’s wild sister, Mare. It has court intrigue, a murder mystery, horses, and lots of confused sapphic pining so it’s totally worth picking up if you want a light summer fantasy adventure.

Day Nine: Queer Book With (Over) 100 Pages

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

I decided to try to get as close to 100 pages as possible! River of Teeth is a 114-page novella that I haven’t quite finished (work and covid stress happened) but which I am fucking losing my mind for. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s peak alternative history, about queer hippopotamus-riding cowboys in Louisiana during the early 20th (late 19th?) century. Like… I don’t know how to emphasize how unbelievably cool this book is. Genderqueer demolition expert with a giant crush and a penance for making things blow up and attempting to poison guests when they’re bored?? Check. Gay gunslinging hippo-riding cowboy with an angsty backstory (and also a giant crush)? Check. Sexy, fat, badass lady con artist with an albino hippo that she spoils? Check. Like damn guys. I’m not done the book and I’ve already bought the sequel because I know the second I pick it back up I’m not gonna stop until I’ve ploughed through it all. This book is the epitome of “refuge in audacity” and “rule of cool”. Is it over the fucking top? Absolutely but that’s the point.

Day Ten: Favourite Queer Genre Novel

The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

I’ll be honest, I’m a little shaky on what counts as a genre novel (isn’t… everything… a genre??) so I decided to interpret it as “slightly trashy YA supernatural fantasy” because that sure is a hella specific genre I’m weak for.

I really thought I was done with the Shadowhunter novels, I thought they were a goofy series I left behind in teenagerhood that I could look back on with amused indulgence. And then I found out that there was a novel specifically about Alec and Magnus and! Oh no! Ding dong I was wrong. I fell back in hard because listen… I love them. They were one of the first canonical same-sex relationships I ever read about in an actual novel, they meant a lot to me then and still mean a lot to me now. I have nothing to say to defend myself here except that this book wrecked me and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Day Eleven: Queer Book You Love In A Genre You Don’t Read

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connel

I am very rarely a slice-of-life / romance genre sort of person. I like my stories cut with a heavy dose of fantasy, scifi, action-adventure… something. So a graphic novel that’s not only a romance, but one about an unhealthy relationship and infidelity is like… super outside my usual range of reading material. But it was very much worth the read! The art was stunning, and the complicated emotions it tapped into really touched me. I’m very happy to have read it, and was so damn satisfied by the end.

Day Twelve: Queer Book With A Strong Sense Of Place

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller

Linsey Miller is one author I very actively follow, I love her works and they always have very distinct, complicated worlds with unique societies and magic systems. Belle Révolte was her latest book and followed a prince-and-the-pauper type of story, in which wealthy Emilie des Marais is determined to learn noonday (magical) arts in order to become a physician, someone who can actually work to make her home a better place… but this is not something a proper lady would ever be allowed to do. So she flees her finishing school and meets poor, but magically gifted, Annette Boucher and offers her the chance to switch places. Annette goes back to school as “Emilie” and gets to hone her skills at the midnight arts while Emilie will use her name to sneak into medical school and fight her way up the ranks to physician. This is a challenging enough task, with rebellion roiling just beneath the surface and the country about to slip into a arrogant war that threatens the lives of hundreds…

Day Thirteen: Queer Book That Really Made You Think

Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

This is a four book manga series that is completely breath-taking. It’s touched by magical-realism and completely drowned in visually stunning metaphors and symbolism. Seriously, I’ve reread these books multiples times trying to digest how the wide variety of symbols overlap and contradict and compliment and challenge each other. I still haven’t really gotten a solid handle on it, it’s very fluid, so yeah… definitely makes me think.

The story starts with Tasuku Kaname who believes he may have just been outed as gay by a high school friend, and feels like he’s watching his entire world crumble around him. He is seriously considering taking his own life, when he runs into the mysterious woman “Someone-san” and winds up leading him to a drop-in center that’s run by a local non-profit, and is also a hub for a number of queer people in the community. The books follow Tasuku as he grows, learns, makes mistakes, and confronts his feelings, along with a number of other members at the drop-in center. It is completely beautiful, optimistic, but also quite stark and harsh at its look at homophobia and transphobia in modern Japanese society and how it can effect people in different ways. I just bought book four and can’t wait to read it and see how everything ends.

Day Fourteen: Queer Book That Made You Cry

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Holy shit guys. Listen. Listen. If you don’t read any other book on this list, please consider reading The Marrow Thieves. It is hands down the best book I’ve read so far this year. Another book that doesn’t have a queer character as the protag, but as one of the main supporting characters and listen, his story fucking destroyed me as a person. That romance just… aaaaaaah. AAAAAAAAH.

Anyway. The Marrow Thieves is a Canadian dystopian novel. It takes place in a post-climate change world in which society has been ravaged – partially due to the wildly different and extreme weather patterns, but also through a strange disease that has spread through the population that has left people completely incapable of dreaming. Now unable to rest, process their lives, and dream of a future, people are being driven insane and only one group appears to be immune: North America’s First Nations people appear to be unaffected. And so they begin to be harvested, rounded up and collected in “school” in order for people to suck the marrow out of them to give to white people afflicted by this disease. The Marrow Thieves follows a First Nations boy named Frenchie as he flees the recruiters and tries his best to survive in this post-apocalyptic like wilderness, banding together with other First Nations people who are heading north, where they hope to find communities of their own people with whom they can shelter and start to rebuild their lives.

It’s a YA level novel, not very long, and such an insanely good read. I cannot emphasize enough PLEASE GO READ THIS BOOK.

Day Fifteen: Queer Book That Made You LOL

Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Welcome to Nightvale always makes me laugh and it was a lot of fun to get to read the transcripts of the episodes. I’m a sucker for novelizations/transcripts of shows. It was a nice nostalgia trip and gave me an excuse to go back and relisten to some of my favourite episodes too! If you’ve never gotten into Nightvale… hey, it’s a classic! Podcast is fucking stunning if you’re into podcasts, and if you’re not but would enjoy a weird, queer, eldritch horror comedy then try the book! It’s the first “season” compiled in text form, exactly how it’s heard in the show.

Day Sixteen: Queer Book That Is Really Personal To You

Jughead volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky et al

Including this one because gee golly it sure did make me want to fight a lot of people for quite a while. It was one of the first stories I ever found/read that had an explicitly asexual main character… (and a character I already really loved! Which I now got to feel an even stronger connection to! It was so fun and validating!) so it was super awesome how like half of tumblr decided for a year there that this was apparently a cardinal sin. Imagine… one single version of old, long standing comic series deciding to retcon a character to represent a heavily under-represented community… imagine being so fucking angry about that that you decide to start a hate campaign on the internet. So much fun to live through that as an ace person. Anyway, these comics were nothing amazing but I sure do love them aggressively out of pure spite, even now that the aphobia on tumblr has died back down I will hold this to my chest and adore it.

Day Seventeen: Favourite Queer Book Sequel or Spin Off

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

Honestly do I even need to say anything here? Is there any queer person who hasn’t read Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue series? If you are someone who hasn’t read it yet… go do that?? Absolutely stunning, one of my all-time favourite book series. It’s the perfect combination of hilarious and goofy, intense action, heartfelt character development, and a dash of “wait was that supernatural or??” This sequel was fantastic, this time focusing on Felicity, Monty’s sister, and her quest to become a physician despite being a woman in the 18th century. Awesome look at femininity, feminism, asexuality, and race. (Also… OT3? OT3.)

Day Eighteen: Favourite Queer Book By A Favourite Author

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

One of those “ehh is this technically queer? Not really but close enough, it is in my heart” books. It was one of the books I read as a teenager when I was still beginning to seek out and try to explore queer lit in so much as I could.

Terry Pratchett is, hands down, my favourite author, and though he doesn’t tend to write explicitly queer literature, his exploration of gender through allegory is top fucking tier. Everything to do with the dwarves in his series is fascinating, and a really great challenge/critique/exploration of gender, and this is the book that takes it to the next level (and brings in at least implicitly queer characters). It’s about Polly Perks, who lives in a small, war torn nation, choosing to join the army in order to find out what happened to her brother. However, as tradition dictates, she can’t join as a girl… so she disguises herself as Ozzer, a young man. There’s a lot of twists and turns, and as always Pratchett delivers fantastic humour and just absolutely delicious satire.

Day Nineteen: Queer Book That Changed Your Life

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson

This was the book that made me realize that I, as a queer teacher, could have queer kid lit in my future classroom. Maybe a comparatively small revelation, but a really important one to me. It made me realize that this didn’t need to be something I kept a secret in my professional life and which could really positively influence children, especially queer children. It was the first queer children’s book I ever bought.

Day Twenty: Favourite Queer Book Series

Candy Color Paradox by Isaku Natsume

Alright… I’ll admit it, this isn’t actually my favourite series, but I’ve used my favourites in other spots. And this is a good one! Definitely more of an actual “yaoi” than the other manga I’ve included (here there be sex) but it has a very different vibe that what I’m used to from that type of manga. The main pair are actually both capable, mature adults, with careers they actively care about, and who get together in the first volume!

The rest of the series is less about them angst-ily toeing around their relationship, and much more about them learning to grow as a couple and balance their work and relationship and society. It’s funny and sweet, and I really enjoy these two losers. It’s a very low-stakes enemy-to-friends-to-lovers story, in which Onoe (a reporter) and Kaburagi (a photographer) are paired up on a news story they’re supposed to dig into together. What starts as a bickering rivalry gradually becomes respect, friendship, and love~ Onoe is a gremlin of a protag, so he’s a treat to follow.

Day Twenty-One: Queer Book That You Recommend A Lot

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller

To repeat myself: Linsey Miller is awesome! This is my favourite book of hers, the first of a duology. It’s kind of like an intense, edgy Tamora Pierce novel with murder. In this world, the Queen has a team of assassins known as the Left Hand. They’re an elite group that keeps the Queen safe and does the dirty work that needs to be done to protect the kingdom and keep the encroaching nations at bay. When the assassin Opal is killed, a contest is announced to find the new Opal. People from all over come to complete for the honour of being one of the Queen’s royal assassins, including gender-fluid thief Sallot Leon. Sal has some deep motivations to become Opal that go beyond a loyalty to their kingdom, but they’re going to have to survive their competitors if they even wants a chance at it… (Sal generally goes by either she or he in the books, but I’m using they in this instance since it’s in a more general sense.)

Day Twenty-Two: Queer Book That Made You Take Action

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Uhh, I don’t really have any books that made me take action per se, but this one sure gave me a lot to think about. It’s about deep sea mermaids who originated from the pregnant slave women tossed into the ocean to drown during passage to North America. From those dying women, this race was born and were taken in by whales, raised and protected until they could descend into the deep ocean waters, to form their own safe society. Their collective past is so painful though that as a species they’ve developed a very short term memory. But a people can’t live without any ties to their roots and so one of them, the Historian, holds all the memories for their entire species and shares it with everyone once a year so that the community can be connected to their ancestors before once again returning the memories to the Historian for safe keeping. Yetu, the current Historian, is so overwhelmed by these memories, that she can no longer take it – she flees her people, her responsibilities, and her pain and escapes to the surface instead...

Day Twenty-Three: Queer Book By An Author Who I Killed Is Dead

Cybersix by Carlos Trillo

I cannot emphasize enough, this is not actually a queer comic, it is in fact a very homophobic, transphobic and sexist comic written by a horrible person.

That being said, he’s dead and I own it now the TV series was essentially about a genderqueer superhero and a very confused bi biology professor who has a crush on both personas. I had a passionate crush on both personas as a child, and I will cherrypick this comic until I die in order to enjoy the only kickass genderqueer/genderfluid noir antihero I’ve come across. I am valid and I am not open to debate or discussion. Do not read this comic it’s horrible (but consider watching the show).

Day Twenty-Four: Queer Book You Wish You’d Read When Younger

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

This is such an incredibly soft story with the nicest art. There’s so much understanding and compassion in it and its exploration of gender and self-confidence and being true to yourself would have been very reassuring to me as a child, especially by late elementary/middle school.

Day Twenty-Five: Queer Book In A Historical Setting

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

A retelling of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship from childhood to the Trojan war. So yeah, you can imagine that this was also a candidate for Day 14 :’) I haven’t read this one in years but god it was lovely and emotionally destroyed me as a person.

Day Twenty-Six: Queer Superhero Book or Comic

Overwatch: Reflections by Michael Chu and Miki Montillo

I don’t really read superhero stories very often (the comics have always driven me a little bonkers, trying to find a way to enter the totally unapproachable Marvel/DC canons, and the MCU burnt me out years ago for every other sort of superhero story) so this is the closest I can get. Tracer’s a superhero yeah? Anyway, I, like every other queer person in the Overwatch fandom, lost my fucking mind when this dropped for Christmas a few years back and officially declared Lena Oxton not only the face of the entire franchise but also a lesbian. It’s an adorable little comic and Tracer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart.

Day Twenty-Seven: Favourite Queer Children’s Picture Book

Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack

There’s a number of sweet queer children’s books that are popping up these days, but this is my favourite just because it’s less about “explaining the gays to children” (though those books also have their place) and more of a cute little fantasy adventure in which the actual protagonist is gay. It’s about a prince who sets out to find himself a bride who can help rule by his side, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t interested in any of the girls. Instead, when a fire breathing dragon threatens his kingdom, he meets a brave knight who fights along side him. It’s very supportive and the art is lovely.

Day Twenty-Eight: Queer Book That Made You Feel Uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

This is a book with an asexual protagonist that I was originally really excited for. I know there are a lot of people out there who really enjoy this book and connected with it, but it didn’t do it for me. Maybe because my expectations were too high, but the protagonist’s experience with asexuality was vastly different than my own and the narrative voice ended up rubbing me wrong (and let’s be honest, slice-of-life romance is NOT my usual genre at all). So it’s not “made me uncomfortable because it’s Bad And Wrong” more just… totally vibed wrong with me. Maybe the perfect book for other people but definitely not for me, I had to return this one unfinished because it’s portrayal of asexuality just made me so deeply uncomfortable.

Day Twenty-Nine: Queer Book That Made You Want To Fall In Love

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

This book had to make it on here somewhere, and honestly it could have gone in a lot of different spots, but I chose to put it here because the relationship between Monty and Percy is so incredibly sweet and authentic it really does make you want something like that. TGGTVAV (for anyone who has somehow not heard of it) takes place in the 18th century, and is about Monty, his best friend (and crush) Percy, and his sister Felicity going on a final “hurrah” tour of Europe before Monty's father finally tries to pin him down in England and force every part of Monty that’s deemed “unacceptable” out of him. So Monty intends to live this summer up… until everything goes off the rail and the three of them are suddenly fleeing across the continent with assassins at their heels and a strange, stolen artifact in their possession.

Monty has a lot of growing to do in this novel, and that’s one of my favourite things about it. For his and Percy’s relationship to ever have a chance, Monty needs to learn and change and actually communicate with other people, and it makes the relationship feel strong. Not a fluffy, surface level romance that often happens in YA but something built from the ground up by two friends who really want to make it work. Ahh, it’s lovely. One of my favourite novels.

Day Thirty: Queer Book With Your Favourite Ending

My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame

A two-book manga series that was completely stunning. It deals with queer relationships and homophobia in a very stark, real-world manner that you don’t often get in manga, while still being incredibly loving and sympathetic. The book is about Yaichi, a single father whose estranged brother (Ryoji) recently died. One day, a Canadian named Mike arrives, introducing himself as Ryoji’s widower. Mike had come hoping to visit his late husband’s homeland to try to get some closure, and Yaichi ends up inviting Mike to stay. The whole story looks Japan’s societal biases, through Mike’s experiences, Yaichi’s thoughts, feelings and prejudices, and those of his daughter who adores Mike.

Seriously, this is one of the kindest, most earnest looks I’ve ever seen to internal prejudices that critiques them without demonizing the person who feels them. Instead it lovingly embraces grief, growth, and love. This series made me cry multiple times, was good enough that even my straight brother practically ordered me to go out and buy the second book when he finished the first, and the ending was just *chef’s kiss*

Honourable Mentions

A few books I really wanted to fit on my list somehow but couldn’t quite manage it, so here: All Out an anthology of historical fiction short stories about queer teens. The Tea Dragon Society series and Princess Princess Ever After, graphic novels by the amazingly talented Katie O’Neill. Heartstopper a webcomic turn graphic novel by Alice Oseman about a pair of rugby players. The Different Dragon a cute picture book in which the boy has two moms and which is about accepting different ways of being. And Lady Knight a part of Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series because because Kel is word-of-god aro(and/or ace) and I’ve adored that series and Kel since I was about thirteen so by god I’ll take it.

Now for those that wanted to do their own challenge, I found it on @gailcarriger’s blog.

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