#is back temporarily for mother's day. i saved these for like a month

[astronocria]

moms & daughters

[togenabi]

the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground. 

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident. 

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more. 

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair. 

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child. 

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute. 

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk. 

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to? 

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t. 

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.” 

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room. 

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed. 

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.” 

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head. 

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start. 

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better. 

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically. 

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink. 

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of. 

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him. 

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime. 

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were. 

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative. 

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills? 

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face. 

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know. 

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges. 

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway. 

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.” 

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response. 

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open. 

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age. 

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor. 

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way. 

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet. 

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously. 

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.” 

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—” 

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.” 

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.” 

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?” 

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.” 

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same. 

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone. 

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods. 

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon. 

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?” 

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him. 

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze. 

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail. 

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy. 

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords. 

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again. 

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage. 

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you. 

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around. 

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water. 

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now. 

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space. 

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring. 

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here. 

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue. 

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

[thelifeinmyshadesofgrey]

Here's another list of fundraisers that I've received. As of now, I'm temporarily disabling my asks/messages until I have cleared my inbox. I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience! Please share and donate if you can - every little bit helps!

(previous posts: 1, 2, 3, 4)

Amany Ubeid and family @amnyaburas (fundraiser link) (vetted by @gazavetters #17 in this link)

Amany is a 40-year old mother of 3 children. Her husband is in need of treatment for his psoriasis, and her son needs surgery to save his eye, which, without proper medical attention, may lead to disability. As of 12th October they have $1,922 CAD/$68,000 (no new donations in 2 days)

Kareem, Carmen and family @yosef-hussin (fundraiser link) (vetted by @90-ghost)

Yousef is living in America and is raising funds for his niece, nephew, parents and sisters. The twins' mother, Yousef's sister, was sadly killed in a bombing and he has been providing financial assistance to his remaining family ever since. As of 12th October, they have $12,945 USD/$50,000 (no new donations in 6 days)

Omar Fathi and family @omerfathi (fundraiser link) (not yet vetted but likely legitimate)

Omar is a father of 4 young children; the oldest only 6 years old and his youngest was born only a week before the start of the war. He needs help to secure basic necessities for his children and to survive the harsh winter ahead. As of 12th October, they have €269/€20,000 (no new donations in the last month)

Ahmed Al Yazji and family @ahmed-gaza1 (fundraiser link) (not yet vetted but likely legitimate)

Ahmed is a 20-year old in urgent need of treatment after being injured in an Israeli airstrike. The serious injury in his neck could cause complete paralysis if he does not undergo surgery. As of 12th October, they have $2,049 USD/$30,000 (no new donations in 2 days)

Aya Almajdoub and family @aiamaher (fundraiser link) (not yet vetted but likely legitimate)

Aya is raising funds for her family of 8, including her parents, siblings, husband and 3-year old son. She and her husband are struggling to provide basic necessities for their son, such as diapers and baby formula. As of 12th October, they have €2,954/€55,000 (only 2 donations in the last 24 hours)

Habib and family @abuadam86 (fundraiser link) (vetted by association, as explained here)

Habib is a father of 4 young children; one of whom, Adam, is a quadriplegic. They had to restart their campaign due to problems with the previous organizer and are still low on funds. As of 12th October, they have €212/€50,000 (only 3 donations in the last 24 hours)

Sameer Al Khaldi and family @sameer-gaza1 (fundraiser link) (vetted by association, friend of @mohiy-gaza as explained here)

Sameer is raising funds for his family of 17, consisting of 9 adults and 6 children. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza to somewhere safer after surviving several strikes. As of 11th October, they have $6,600 USD/$50,000 (only one donation in the last 24 hours)

Karam Al-Madhoun and family @emanalmadhoun1 (fundraiser link) (vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi #109 in this list)

Karam is a 19-year old university student, and he is raising funds for his family of 5. He hopes to evacuate his family and continue his education in graphic design. As of 12th October, they have €18,529/€20,000 (only 7 donations in the last 24 hours)

Ahmed Fathi and family @ahmed-fathi-gaza (fundraiser link) (vetted by @90-ghost)

Ahmed is raising funds for his family of 20, most of whom are young children. His father, Fathi suffers from heart disease, diabetes and high blood pressure and his son, Mahmoud suffers from back and cartilage pain. As of 12th October, they have €19,933/€80,000 (only 4 donations in the last 24 hours)

Lubna Al-qadi and family @lubnaqa (fundraiser link) (not yet vetted but likely legitimate)

Lubna is a 27-year old English major graduate from Gaza. She is seeking funds for her family of 9, including her parents, 3 brothers, nephew, niece and sister in law. As of 12th October, they have $520 USD/$45,000 (no new donations in the last month)

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi, could you write a Nikolai X Shadow Summoner!Reader with the songs "mirrorball" and "the archer"?

You can that would be cool but if not not that's fine also🙂

Holding Onto A Mirrorball

Request: Hi, could you write a Nikolai X Shadow Summoner!Reader with the songs "mirrorball" and "the archer"?

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, I was busy for a while and then I had writer's block. I had some fics I needed to post new chapters for, but I’m ready to start doing requests again. This turned out to be really long, I just kept writing and writing and it got a little out of hand. Sorry, hopefully it was worth the wait to get to this length. Thank you again for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy!

Just wanted to warn you first, I don’t know how to translate things, and I don’t know how to speak or write in these languages. I used as many already translated words and phrases I could find in Ravkan and used them where I could, but sometimes I had to use Russian where I couldn’t find the right phrasing. And I'm not sure if it’s correct, sorry if it’s wrong, it’s just little things here and there I thought it would be cute to use it for.

Also, I made the reader the Darkling’s sister. It was easier for me to write that way, so hopefully that’s alright with you. If not, and you want me to alter this or write you something else, I’m happy to do so :)

(Warnings: swearing, shitty translations, death, mentions of Genya’s assault, let me know if i missed anything)

—

I'm a mirrorball

I can change everything about me to fit in

I never grew up, it's getting so old

Help me hold onto you

I've been the archer

I've been the prey

You have lived a thousand lives. 

Your Mother was Baghra, the daughter of Morozova, and your older brother was Aleksander, otherwise known as the Darkling. 

Like your brother, you were a Shadow Summoner as well. Merzost created your powers, but unlike him, you weren’t an amplifier. You were strong enough against other Grisha, but against him, you couldn’t hold your own. 

In your early life, you didn’t need to be capable of beating him. 

You loved him like any sister would love their brother. And he never would have hurt you with his powers, knowing that you’d never do anything to hurt him with yours. 

In the early days, he hardly used his powers at all. Grisha were persecuted more in that age than any other time in history, and your Mother warned you both never to use your powers in front of the otkazat’sya. You lived a nomadic lifestyle, never staying in one place for more than a month at a time. You could recall one instance where you had to leave earlier than normal—enduring your Mother’s wrath—because your brother accidentally let another Grisha child touch him.

It was a single moment of forgetfulness on his part. But it nearly ruined your family. 

You had to be no older than ten, and he was a few years older than you. A pretty girl fell and scraped her knee at the bank of a river on the outskirts of a village you were staying at, and Aleksander offered his hand to help her up. He had no idea she was a Squaller, she had kept quiet about it herself. But the second he took her hand in his, the gentle breeze around you picked up into a storm’s gust, strong enough to take down the nearby trees. 

She had ripped her hand away, eyes widening in fear. Aleksander stood in shock, unable to get his feet to move. The world had yet to harden him, and he lived in constant paranoia of people discovering his secret. Despite being the younger of the two of you, you had to be the one to save him. 

The girl tried to run back to the village, no doubt ready to tell everyone what she had seen, but you wrapped her in a cloud of darkness before she could leave. Not enough to hurt her in any way, just enough to temporarily blind her so she couldn’t see which way to run. By the time the cloud disappeared, you had grabbed your brother’s hand and frantically dragged him halfway home. 

Your Mother was furious, but far more scared for you than she was angry with you. You fled that evening, not stopping till you were miles and miles away. 

That night, Aleksander sat you down after your Mother had gone to sleep. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful. You shouldn’t have had to do that for me.”

“You would have done it for me,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes off of the embers of the fire he had built. 

You were freezing, but you couldn’t afford to make the flames any bigger. Someone could see, and if they were hunting you, it would make it that much easier for you to get caught. 

Sighing, he took off the outer layer of his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. 

“You’ll get cold,” you said, trying to take it off. 

But he stopped you, shaking his head. “I’m warm enough. Just take it. Consider it a token of my gratitude for what you did today.”

You finally relented, staying silent. He grinned at his victory, turning himself back to the fire. You both were quiet for the rest of the evening. 

It was the last time you talked about what you did for him. 

As the years passed, the world hardened him. It hardened you both, but it affected him far worse than it did you. He began to shut you out, not confiding in you as much as he used to. You knew he was lonely, but his pride wouldn’t let him open himself back up to you. And as years turned into decades, you stopped pushing. 

The worst day was the day he created the Fold. 

His experimentation with darkness was one you didn’t condone, but there was nothing you could do to stop him. And while you blamed him for the Fold’s creation, and could never forgive him for it, you also understood. You felt pity for him, even. 

The King’s Army killed his love at the time, and he could no longer turn a blind eye to the horrors committed against Grisha. In a blast of fury and grief, the Fold was created. Its drastic effects weren’t anticipated, even by him, and so you couldn’t truly blame him for it. 

What you could blame him for was his plan to weaponize it. 

But in order to do that, he needed a Sun Summoner, and that type of Grisha was nothing more than a myth, at least to your knowledge. In all your lifetime, you had never come across one, or even heard a whisper of one’s existence. So, you had to wait. And waiting meant living, your life dragging on.

It was exhausting, never growing up. 

You reached maturity, and practically stopped aging. Despite your growing resentment for your family and your powers, you stayed by your brother’s side. Leaving him would mean being completely and utterly alone, and you didn’t think you could handle your existence on your own. You struggled with your powers as is, and only having two other people alive with the same powers as you meant that you had no choice but to stay with him. 

You did try to leave, once. It was drastic, and you were emotional about it, and you had almost convinced yourself to go. But in a rare moment of vulnerability, your brother practically begged you on his knees not to go. He promised to do better, and shocked from his cracking resolve, you begrudgingly believed him.

Every so often, you’d have to reinvent yourselves. Throw people off your scent before they could realize that you never aged. You took on dozens of aliases, and eventually, you were detached from yourself. From your old life. 

It was a blessing and a curse.

Eventually, you made it all the way to the Little Palace. Slowly but surely, the Second Army full of Grisha was formed, and your brother took the head position as General to rule over them all. 

You stayed and trained, eventually finding peace with being around people who were like you. Grisha, who were loved and wanted for their powers. Feared, but because of what they could do, not because of who they were. You grew into yourself, and so did your brother. 

You were foolish enough to believe he had changed. 

But when the Sun Summoner finally came along, you knew just how wrong you had been. 

He collared Alina, enslaving her to his will. He took her powers, controlling her to do his bidding. In one day, he decimated an entire city with the might of the Fold. You tried to fight him and help Alina and her friends, but he was just too strong. 

When he was supposedly killed, you were devastated. 

You didn’t think you’d feel so strongly about his death until the day it came. You watched Mal fight him. You watched the Fold—a creation of his own making—take him. And when it took him, you fell to your knees. You thought the grief would swallow you up whole.

But then you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up to see Alina. 

And with her came hope. 

One day, she would be strong enough to destroy your brother’s creation, and you vowed that you would be by her side to help her. You had spent far too much of your life standing by while Aleksander made people suffer, and you wouldn’t let the Sun Summoner—a powerful but innocent girl barely of age—be one of his victims any longer. 

—

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

The mix of emotions you felt when your brother appeared to you out of the Fold hit you like a punch to the gut. 

You had returned to the Little Palace to help the First and Second Army rebuild. 

The King and Queen were left in shambles, along with their eldest son. Their youngest had yet to return, and you hoped he would be more competent than his family was when he finally made the choice to come home.

But more than anyone, you came to help your Mother. 

She was distraught after what happened to Alina, wracked with guilt under the weight of what her own blood could do. She was glad to have a daughter who wasn’t like him, but she had a difficult time with you, too. If she had trained you better, or spent more time with you, maybe she could have made you stronger. Maybe she would have felt like she could trust you enough to tell you earlier what her plan with Alina was, and maybe you could have stopped your brother before he did what he did. Now he was gone, and all she had left was you. 

And she wasn’t sure that was enough.

You had barely returned home before you heard the news of the sightings of your brother. You didn’t believe the reports. You wouldn’t believe anything unless he was standing in front of you, and you could see him with your own eyes. 

And in his usual fashion, he made quite the entrance. 

Despite your hatred for what he did, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit of relief that he was alive. He was family, and there was nothing you could do to change that. And part of you could still remember the sweet little boy he was, always kind to you and protective over you. You wished you could have that back, and you couldn’t let go of the possibility that maybe that piece of him was still somewhere inside, buried deep.

You couldn’t help yourself the second he knocked on your door, rushing into his arms like a scared little kid. 

“It’s alright, little sister. I’m here,” he murmured, holding you tight. 

You asked him how he managed to stay alive, in shock at the trail of events that happened after Alina pulled the skiff from the Fold. You noticed the scars along his face as he spoke, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. 

It slowly dissipated as he told you how he saved a band of Grisha including Genya, one of your only friends you had at the Little Palace. While your brother was feared, he was also respected. You were just feared. And making friends didn’t come easy to you, so you were quite alone until Genya came along. She made everything better. People didn’t like her much either, so the two of you were isolated together.

Knowing he saved her showed that there was a small part of him that was still good. 

Of course he had to crush any bits of hope you clung to when he tried to turn you to his side. He preached about his cause, wanting you to pledge your loyalty. 

“We can start over,” he pleaded, holding you by your shoulders. “We have all the time in the world. Join me. Help me find Alina. We can do extraordinary things if we work together. We can take our country back.”

“I knew there was darkness in you, but I never could have imagined you’d fall this far. Is our country worth the lives of thousands upon thousands of innocents? Is the Fold really so precious to you that reducing Alina to nothing but a weapon is justifiable? Is it worth it?”

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “If it means liberating our people, I’ll kill every last one of them myself…and I’ll use Alina to do it.”

“Have you learned nothing over all these years?” You asked, ripping yourself out of his hold. “They’re people, Aleksander. Just like Grisha. Alina is not a pawn for you to use. You’d think after all these years that you would have learned a little compassion.”

“Compassion? You want me to have compassion for the girl who just tried to kill me? For the tracker, who wants nothing more than to see me dead? And all of the miserable insignificant people who would sooner watch me burn at the stake than try to make peace?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t want peace. You want to win. You want everyone pinned under your thumb, so you can bend them to your will. Don’t speak to me like your heart lies with our people’s interest. It lies with your own.”

“It used to lie with you,” he said softly, his jaw clenched. “And it can again. I saw the little girl in you today. The one who was missing her older brother. The one who cried for him when she thought he was gone.”

“Don’t—” You choked out. 

He interrupted you, taking your hand. “Come back to me. Stay by my side. Help me find Alina, and I promise, we’ll do great things. And when it’s done…we’ll go. Just you and me. We can start over and live the life we were supposed to live, not mourn the one that was taken from us. Join me. Please.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, clouding your vision. You squeezed his hand, taking a breath, before you let it go. A tear slipped down your cheek as you dropped his hand, bringing yours back to your side.

“I love you, brother. Probably more than I should. But I will not be a part of this. I won’t watch you destroy yourself like this, and I most certainly won’t help you do it.”

“Y/N—”

“Do what you must. I can't stop you. But I’m praying to the Saints that Alina can. And if you’re forcing me to choose a side, then so be it…I choose hers. I’m sorry.”

And then he did something you thought he’d never do. Something that—despite all his evilness and wrongdoings—you never would have expected him to stoop so low as to utter with nothing but pure hate in his voice.

He called you nichyevo.

Nothing.

Ironic then, how you’d later discover that the shadow army he created from the Fold to guard himself was called the nichevo’ya. 

Nothings.

You gasped, taking a wobbly step back as you spoke through gritted teeth. “How dare you? After all that I’ve put up with for you. I’ve stuck by you! And you can’t find it in yourself to treat me with an ounce of love?”

He remained quiet, his face stone cold. You shook your head, backing up to the door. 

“I’m going,” you said, fighting back tears. “To somewhere I’m wanted. Somewhere I’m needed.”

His laughter was dark. “Nobody needs you, little sister. Do you know what the townspeople call you? Koroleva Nabresh. They’ll always fear you for what you are. They’ll never see you as anything else but a weapon.”

Queen of Shadows.

“Then I’ll be her weapon,” you spat, opening the door. “I don’t know where Alina is, but I swear to all the Saints, I’d rather die trying to find her than live to see her fall.”

He was angry now, but there was a glint of fear in his eye. “She’ll never want you. There’s no one in the world out there who will ever want you. I’m all you have.”

“I’ve heard enough! Goodbye, Aleksander…I hope that after I’m gone, you’ll realize that you’ve just lost the one person who has ever truly cared about you forever.”

—

You by some miracle found Alina a few weeks after you left the Little Palace. 

You knew she was looking for amplifiers, and there were whispers that the Sea Whip had been found. The next step for her would be to regroup and figure out what to do next, including researching where another amplifier could be found. You knew your brother would be looking for her as well, so you had to think strategically about how to find Alina.

One of the few perks of being centuries old was knowing all the potential locations battered and bruised Grisha would gather in times of war. 

The Spinning Wheel was the first place you looked. 

After all, you were alive when it was built, and you knew that it started as a Ravkan base. Now, although technically part of Fjerda, it was abandoned and unpatrolled, open to anyone who needed to claim it. And a band of Grisha and First Army soldiers who knew of its existence would know that as well. 

You were right, arriving soon after Alina did.

And who else would she be backed by other than Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan Throne? Otherwise known as Sturmhond, an infamous privateer whose name you had heard over the past few years numerous times. Whispers of him stretched all the way from Novyi Zem to Ketterdam.

Nikolai and his crew, Tolya and Tamar, seemed quite protective over Alina, as was to be expected. It was still a shock though, to have a sword, axe, and pistol pointed at your face all at the same time. 

“She’s Koroleva Nabresh, Alina,” Tamar warned.

“How do we know you aren’t with him? You're his sister,” Nikolai asked, keeping his gun raised. 

Alina was quick to step in front of them. “She won’t hurt me. Y/N hates him as much as I do. She wouldn’t have come all this way unless she was on our side. She fought with her life in the Fold, and we couldn’t have beaten him without her. Stand down.”

“She’s right,” you said, but you kept your hands raised in surrender to help prove your point. “If I wanted to kill any of you, I could have done it the second I reached the gates—”

“Not a good start, love,” Tamar said, but she was slowly lowering her axe with a curious look in her eye. 

“Just hear me out, please…I promise, I will never use my powers to hurt any of you. I’m not like my brother, I swear. I hate what he’s done, and if I was as strong as him, I would have tried to stop him sooner. But now…he’s gone too far. I see that now. And I refuse to stand by any longer while he leaves chaos and devastation in his wake. I’d rather die fighting for the right side than live another day under his control. And Alina, I’m so sorry it’s come to this. I should have come to you sooner. But if you let me stay, I will fight for you. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, and whatever it takes to make sure my brother can’t hurt anyone ever again. I have intel on him, I know how he thinks, and I know how to fight him. Alina, please…let me help.”

Alina didn’t know what it was about you, but she knew she could trust you. Nobody had been more manipulated and betrayed by your brother than you had, and if you had finally left him, it was for good. Alina and her friends watched you silently, before they all turned to her for an answer. It was up to her to decide who she wanted protecting her, and they would respect any decision she made. They could offer advice all they wanted to, but in the end, it was up to her. 

And when she placed her hand on your arm, giving you a sympathetic smile, they respected her choice. 

“Welcome,” Tolya greeted politely, offering you a hand to shake. “You’re making the right choice.”

“I know,” you agreed, trying to ignore the guilt and sorrow that was building up in your chest. 

Later that evening after an introduction to everyone—and a debrief on what they had done so far and what they were planning to do next—you found yourself alone with the Prince himself. He was in the observatory, looking through a telescope when you walked in the door. 

“What are you doing up so late, Your Grace?” You asked, lightly chuckling when he jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“I could ask you the same question,” he mused, taking a calming breath. “And don’t call me ‘Your Grace.’ Nikolai is quite alright with me.”

You chuckled awkwardly, nodding. “Nikolai it is, then.”

“Are you alright? Settling in?”

You shrugged, fidgeting with your sleeve. “I guess so. I couldn’t sleep. I’ve never been on my own this long, and certainly not this far. I just…don’t really know what to do with myself right now.”

Nikolai nodded, grinning. “I know the feeling. I get it every time I return to court. Out at sea, I’m in my element. But back home? I was raised there, and yet it is the most foreign place I’ve ever been to.”

“I’ve heard of your adventures at sea. Sturmhond is quite the character.”

“He’s alright. A bit cocky for my taste, but he’s dashingly handsome and charming, which I think makes up for it,” Nikolai mused, his grin widening when you smiled. 

“Clever,” you grinned. 

It was quiet for a moment as he kept his gaze on you, leaning over his desk. He finally stood up straight, stepping around his desk to come stand next to you. 

“You’ve very brave, aren’t you?” He finally said softly, giving you a look of genuine adoration.

You flushed, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”

“For leaving your brother. You say you hate him, which may very well be true, but he’s still your brother. You’ll always care for him in some way. And I know how old you are—well, generally speaking, I’m not actually sure about the exact number—and I know you’ve been with him a long time. It took a lot of courage to leave his side. He could have reacted harshly—”

“He did,” you interrupted, internally berating yourself when you realized you had said that out loud. “I mean, uh…well, I told him I was leaving for good. To find Alina, wherever she was. He tried to convince me to join him, but I told him I wouldn’t help him or stand by while he wreaked havoc. And…he called me nichyevo.”

Nikolai’s eyes widened in shock. “Nothing.”

You nodded, casting your eyes to the floor. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. Crying over your brother wasn’t worth it, and you had already mourned him once. You wouldn’t mourn his loss a second time, even though he was still alive. You were pulled from your thoughts when a warm hand rested on your arm. You looked over to see Nikolai, smiling warmly. 

“I know we’ve never met, and I don’t know much about you. But I can say with absolute certainty that you aren’t nothing. He’s wrong. I promise you, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. As far as I can tell, you are quite far from nothing.”

You smiled. “Actually, we have met once. Well, I met you.”

His eyes widened. “What? When?”

“Aleksander made us return when your brother came of age. The King was looking for a new General, and my brother was ready to take over the position again. We attended a party for your brother, and you were there. You looked positively bored to tears, and ready to escape the first chance you got. But your Mother was watching you, and I could tell she wouldn’t have been kind if you misbehaved in front of all her guests.”

Nikolai smiled at the memory, suddenly realizing. “I remember! Saints, you’re the girl who slipped me a drink. I had to choke it down—Mother always did like the strong stuff—but it made the evening more bearable. I tried looking for you later, but you must have already left.”

“I left soon after my brother talked to the King. And by the time we returned to the palace, you had already been shipped off to the other side of Ravka, and then you joined the First Army. I never got another chance to meet you, until now.”

Nikolai stood up from against his desk, offering you his hand. You hesitated, but eventually his warm smile pulled you in, and you let him take yours. He gave it a squeeze, running his thumb along the back of your knuckles.

“I must say, it is nice to meet you…again,” he chuckled, letting your hand go. “I’ve heard stories. I’m glad to know that most of them aren’t true.”

“Stories? Do people actually talk about me?”

He shrugged. “People talk about the Darkling—”

“And Koroleva Nabresh,” you finished, sighing. “I guess that’s my fault for staying with my brother. I can’t blame them for assuming I’m the same as him.”

Nikolai shook his head. “You’re not like him. Like I said, I know I haven't known you long…but you’re not him. And if Alina trusts you, I trust you.”

“How optimistic of you,” you mused, making him smirk. 

“Unfortunately, it’s who I am,” he grinned, huffing out a laugh. “Anyway, since we’re both awake…I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. And before you say no, I promise I won’t ask you how old you are. My Mother would skin me if she found out I inquired about a lady’s age.”

You didn’t know what it was about him, but he was incredibly easy to open up to. You had spent the whole day—and the past few weeks—feeling incredibly guilty about leaving your brother. It was the right choice, but that didn’t mean it was an easy one. And you had felt completely and utterly alone…up until now. 

For whatever reason, call it boredom or loneliness, you couldn’t say no. 

“Well, since we’ve got that question squared away…I’d like that. Ask away.”

—

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold onto you

Over the next few weeks, you became good friends with Nikolai. And eventually, you became more than friends. 

He was one of the only people that made you feel welcome. 

Tamar and Tolya were nice enough, but they were often busy. And Mal was always by Alina’s side, never gone for long. He was nice too, but wary. Alina was perhaps the most understanding, but she was by far the most busy. Training took up most of her days when she wasn't attempting to look for the Firebird. Zoya—the one person other than Alina that you actually knew beforehand—had traveled to Ketterdam on Nikolai’s orders, and you had yet to see her again. Everyone else didn’t know you personally, and they seemed angry at you or afraid of you, steering clear. 

If it weren’t for Nikolai, you’d be entirely alone.

You spent your days avoiding other people. One in particular was Nikolai’s Mother, the Queen. She wasn’t too fond of being in forced proximity with yet another person she considered a traitor to the Crown. It took Nikolai a week to get her to stop hurling insults, trying to order her guards to seize you at every opportunity. And while your days were spent in isolation, your nights were anything but isolated. 

At night, you were plagued with nightmares, haunted by every mistake of your past. 

The first few weeks, they’d come every night. And—unfortunately for you—Nikolai’s room was right next to yours. Although his crew became more and more trusting of you with each day, they still wanted to keep an eye on you. And they thought the best way of doing that was by keeping you close. Ten feet away from his guards at all times, to be exact. 

Most nights, you could manage them yourself. You’d wake and pace around your room, distracting yourself until you fell back asleep or the sun came up—whichever came first. And you’d ignore them every morning, forcing yourself to forget about them until the next night. But on other nights, you couldn’t ignore them. 

And neither could Nikolai. 

Apparently, you had a habit of shouting in your sleep. For a week, Nikolai ignored the sounds, choosing not to talk to you about it the next day. Eventually, he started asking his guards to knock on your door and make sure you were alright. You thought nothing of it, assuming the people protecting Alina were just keeping an eye on you. 

That is until Nikolai showed up at your door himself, wanting to make sure you were safe with his own eyes.

You stumbled out of bed and answered the door like normal, expecting a guard, when you took a step back in shock when you saw the Prince of Ravka standing in front of you. Cautiously, you opened the door, allowing him to step in. You desperately tried to ignore his lack of dress, pushing the image of his open shirt to the back of your mind.

“Nikolai? Are you alright?” You asked, turning to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace. 

You still marveled at the room they put you in. While your brother’s quarters were fit for a king, yours weren’t even in the same wing of the palace. You had forgotten how absurd the decorating in these types of rooms could be, but even you couldn’t deny how comfortable a couch in front of a roaring fire on a cold evening was. 

“I’m fine, darling,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He grimaced, letting out a sigh, as if breaking the news to you was just as hard on him as it would be on you. “Well…you were screaming. In your sleep.”

You tensed, sitting up straight. “Was I?”

“Don’t be coy,” he mused, though his tone was still gentle. Cautious. “You know as well as I do that my guards have looked in on you at least three nights this week.”

“Shit,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

“Didn’t think anyone would notice?”

“Didn’t think anyone would care,” you corrected, raising a brow when his eyes softened on you. “I didn’t realize that was what they were doing.”

“You think I don’t care?” 

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to. You hardly know me.”

“You’re on our side now,” he explained, looking you in the eye. “For better or for worse, that means something to all of us. To me. I may not know much about you, but no one deserves to live their nights in fear. Trust me, I know. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Not even my brother?” You asked, and Nikolai was silent for a moment as he pondered your question. 

“No,” he finally said, shaking his head. “Not even him. It’s strange, but I don’t wish them on him at all. He’ll pay the price for what he’s done, and that’s enough. Nightmares…those kinds of dreams haunt anyone. And—with all your brother has done—I imagine his nightmares must be quite the show. I want him to suffer, that’s true…but not like that.”

You were at a loss for words. Nikolai possessed an amount of empathy that shocked you, even after all that he’d endured. His love for people and his compassion to make life better for everyone around him was one of his most endearing qualities, as you’d learned in your short time together. 

Nikolai laid a hand on your arm, dragging you from your thoughts. “Is that what you were dreaming about? Your brother?”

You sighed, nodding. “He was part of it, yes. I won’t bore you with the details.”

“No, no…I want to hear. Seriously, you can tell me, I'm here to listen. If you’re comfortable telling me, that is,” he said. 

His hand slipped down your arm into your open palm, intertwining your fingers. The action was innocent, but you could feel your cheeks flush as he gently squeezed your hand. You took a breath, preparing yourself. 

“Well…it always starts the same. In the village my Mother brought us to when I was a child. We were on the run again, trying to find somewhere we’d be safe—at least for a little while. Anyway, Aleksander was trying to teach me to use my powers. He was always better with them than me. Quite the natural. It’s weird, every time I have this dream…it starts out good. Must be some sick little joke. Karma for sticking with him for so long.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, continue.”

You nodded, taking a breath. “You know what the Cut is right? Alina has been practicing her version of it.”

Nikolai’s face grew grim. “Yes…your brother seems to have been using it as of late. Officers of the First Army have been sending in reports of—how should I put this—uh…how remains have been found.”

“God, I wish Mother hadn’t taught him how to do that,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Anyway, he was the one who taught me to use it. Mother figured it was better I didn’t know how to.”

“And let me guess. He thought otherwise?” Nikolai asked, making you nod. 

“He taught me in secret. I was always…I don’t know…afraid of it, I guess? And then Aleksander showed me that I controlled it, and that it didn’t control me. I control all of my powers, and I can use them at my own will. It’s my choice.” 

Nikolai squeezed your hand in his, running his thumb along the back of your palm. “I’ve never seen you use it. I’ve never seen you use your powers at all, actually.”

“I don’t use them unless I have to,” you replied, watching his fingers that were still intertwined with yours. “The last time I did was in the Fold, against the Volcra. Against him.”

Nikolai nodded, giving you a look of sympathy. “Did you use the Cut?”

You nodded silently, flinching at the memory. It had been weeks now, but it still felt fresh. Raw. You took another grounding breath, letting it out slowly.

“Yes. You didn’t meet them, but there was another group there from Ketterdam. Zoya may have mentioned them. Aleksander had cornered them in the back of the skiff while he stayed up front with Alina. He tried to take out the sharpshooter—I think his name was Jesper—and I stopped it. I aimed right for my brother just as he raised his hands. He barely missed Jesper, but thankfully he did. He had to step out of the way to avoid the Cut, and it threw off his aim I guess. Saints, you should have seen his face. It was like he’d never seen such betrayal. He didn’t think I was capable of doing that to him.”

“Tell me about the dream,” he coaxed gently, trying to get you not to dwell on that memory. “What is it that has you so scared?”

“Like I said, he taught me to use the Cut. The dream always starts out with the first time I did it right. I chopped down an apple tree that was growing in a nearby field. We took the apples home and Mother made some sort of hot cider with cinnamon.”

Nikolai smiled gently, his grip on your hand never wavering. “That sounds lovely.”

“It was,” you murmured, smiling sadly. “But that part of the dream is gone nearly as soon as it begins. Then it suddenly cuts to the first time I saw Aleksander use it on a man. A Fjerdan…Drüskelle. We had joined other Grisha by then, and we were attacked. And just as quickly as he kills that man, he turns to me. And it’s like I’m floating above my body. I can hear myself, and I know I’m screaming myself hoarse. Pleading with him to stand down, begging him to let me go. I’m his sister, he has to let me go. And—despite how hard I try—it always ends the same. There’s nothing I can ever do to change it…it feels so real every time. Every night.”

“What happens? Does he kill you?” Nikolai asked softly.

You could feel your vision clouding. You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down. You wouldn’t cry over your brother, not again. He had already inspired enough of your tears. 

“No,” you finally replied. “No, he doesn’t.”

Nikolai gave you a look of confusion. “What happens then?”

“I kill him. Shadows bleed out of me, and wrap around him tightly. He turns red in the face, struggling against them. He pleads for me to stop, and every time I tell him the same thing. That I’m not doing it, that I don’t know what’s happening. And he tries to get me to control myself, and tells me how strong I am—”

Your voice began to waver, and you choked back a sob. Nikolai waited patiently for you to continue, remaining silent. 

“No matter what I do, it ends the same. The shadows hold him tight, and I watch myself raise my hands. I can hear myself crying, but it happens anyway. He’s crying too…and then he’s cut into pieces.”

Nikolai is quiet for a long moment before he comes up with something to say. “Saints, Y/N…I’m so sorry.”

You sniffed, quickly wiping under your eyes. “That’s where it ends. At least, I think that’s where it ends. I always either wake up on my own, or I hear a knock on my door from one of your guards. I have you to thank for that.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s pulling you into a hug. Squeezing you tight, refusing to let go until you wrap your arms around him. You sit in silence together for a long while, nothing but each other’s shallow breaths reaching your ears. After one last squeeze, he pulls away. 

“You’ll come tell me the next time it happens, won’t you?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “And wake you up? No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m fine, Nikolai—”

“That’s not fine, darling,” he affirmed, making you look at him. “Listen…I know what those dreams are like. I used to get them, too. And I know my nights would have been a hell of a lot better if I had someone there. Someone who understood.”

You gave him a nervous look. “Nikolai, I don’t think so—”

“I’m not asking you to have me at your beck and call,” he grinned, trying to lighten up the mood. “Just on the bad nights. The nights where you know they’d be better if you had someone to be with for a little while. Trust me, it’s no bother. I’m up half the night anyways, I’ve never been a good sleeper. If anything, you’d be saving me from boredom.”

You wanted to say no, but the look in his eye was telling you that he needed this too. Something was stopping him from admitting it—maybe his pride—but he needed someone just as much as you did. And for him, you could force yourself to every once in a while swallow your own pride and get up to knock on his door. 

“If you insist,” you finally relented, offering a small smile. “Who would I be to deny a Prince?”

From that night on, you followed his orders. It was embarrassing at first, finding yourself in front of his door, but he was more than welcoming. 

He was more often than not still awake at his desk, rummaging through maps and papers. He’d greet you with a smile, offering you a drink. On other nights, he’d have a tired look in his eye, but he’d never turn you away. You’d tell him that he could go back to sleep, but he’d insist on staying up. 

You’d find yourself on his couch, and he’d talk and talk and talk until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His head would roll, landing on your shoulder. You never had it in you to disturb him, and you’d stay on his couch the whole night, falling into a comfortable sleep yourself. And in the morning, he’d complain about a pinched nerve in his neck, telling you how you owed him a massage. You’d always laugh it off, telling him how he could always kick you out when he was tired. And every single time, he’d shake his head, telling you he’d suffer through a pinched nerve if it meant keeping you company.

Eventually, your couch sessions moved to his bed. It was a large bed after all, and incredibly comfortable. You tried to decline the first time, but he waved you off, telling you to get over yourself and be an adult about it. You had narrowed your eyes at him, but relented, finding yourself waking up the next morning still curled up in his sheets. 

It had been the best night’s sleep you had gotten in years.

You continued on like that for a while, skipping the couch entirely. You’d enter his room with a smile, immediately making yourself comfortable at the foot of his bed as you kicked off your shoes. 

He was right, of course, about being an adult about these sorts of things. There was never an uncomfortable moment, or a moment where either of you tried something that the other wouldn’t like. It was entirely innocent sleeping in his bed, and neither of you had even for a second considered going back to your old arrangements. 

You’d both been sleeping the best you’d ever slept, and you knew it was because you had each other there. 

His guards never again had to knock on your door. They stayed stationed outside of his, happy to have not been scared half to death by a rogue scream in the night.

You both eventually gave up on trying to sleep separately. Even when the nightmares would leave you be, Nikolai most certainly wouldn’t. He’d find himself growing restless without you, marching to your door and demanding you come and keep him company. You were more than happy to oblige him, knowing you slept infinitely better with him beside you. You reached a point where you stopped going to your room, instead getting yourself ready to settle in for the night, only to head straight for his door. 

You reached a point where you stopped trying to refrain from touching each other, too. 

When your nightmares would return, Nikolai was there. Easing you awake, staying up until you weren’t scared anymore. On the rare occasion when his would plague him, you were there for him too. It didn’t take much to calm each other. An arm thrown over a waist here, an ankle hooked around a leg there. You’d often find yourselves wrapped up in each other in the mornings, having to untangle yourselves when one of you needed to get up. On nights where you were both exhausted from a long day, it was easier just to flop into bed and curl up next to each other. 

It was simple. Innocent. Pure. 

A light feathery touch had no underlying meaning. You didn’t have to use your words, you could let your actions speak for you. It meant nothing more than wanting comfort, and you both were happy enough to give it to each other. 

Any feelings attached came naturally, and neither of you had it in yourselves to turn them away. The alternative—keeping them close, and your hearts open—was infinitely easier.

And that’s what you did.

—

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I've never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

And when I break it's in a million pieces

When you found out what Aleksander did to Genya, you had never felt more guilty in your life. 

You knew he had saved her the day he returned to the Little Palace, but you had yet to find her, and it was too late to when you fled. You kept her off your mind, filling your thoughts with nothing but the goal of finding Alina. And when you found her, your thoughts became preoccupied with a certain Prince. As the weeks passed, you were happier with him than you’d ever been in your entire life by your brother’s side. 

You had almost forgotten the battle you were in the midst of until he came to remind you. 

He attacked the palace, destroying half the grounds with a band of amplified Grisha. He brought his nichevo’ya, hurting and killing whoever he pleased to get what he wanted. Vasily, Nikolai’s brother and the Crown Prince of Ravka, was among those killed.

You had no plan or course or action, and you didn’t know how to react when once again confronted by your brother face to face. All you knew was that you had to get Alina and Nikolai to safety, and you’d do whatever was necessary in order to make that happen.

And yet again, you watched your brother fall. 

Alina brought the foundations crumbling down, and he was trapped under the rubble. And what was even worse was…you helped her do it. Trapping him in darkness until the walls caved in. You knew better than to think he was dead, and it was only a matter of time before he showed back up to guilt you for not defending him. There was no time to think of that as you helped Alina and Tamar to safety.

After you escaped into the tunnels, you were trapped. There was no way out. 

Not that you’d want to get out anyway.

You were trapped, that much was true, but being trapped meant being safe—relatively, at least. Aleksander couldn’t get to you, and he would have begun regrouping by now. There were wounded to tend to on both sides, and his attention would be devoted to them. That gave your side enough time to tend to the wounded and come up with a plan.

You found Nikolai pulling a sheet over a dead man in a very long line of dead men, grimacing when you lost count of just how many there were. You pushed the image of them to the back of your mind, rushing over to him. 

“Nikolai,” you sighed in relief, offering him your hands. 

He immediately turned at the sound of your voice, practically melting at the sight of you unscathed. He grabbed your hands, letting you pull him to his feet. The second he steadied himself, you found yourself wrapped up tightly in his arms. You were pretty sure your feet were no longer on the floor, but you ignored the feeling, wrapping your arms around his neck. You remained quiet, giving him a moment to breathe.

“I lost you in the chaos,” he finally murmured into your shoulder. “I thought he got you.”

You shook your head. “I’m alright, I had Alina and Tamar. Aleksander is down, for now at least. Adrik was hurt, but Nadia is with him and they’re both going to be fine. What about you, love? Are you alright?”

His shoulders fell as he looked around, glancing over to see his Mother, distraught and in tears still surrounded by her guards. First and Second Army soldiers alike were frantically running around, tending to people and arming themselves. Alina was with Adrik and Nadia, asking anyone who passed by if they had seen Mal. Nikolai turned back to you, his own eyes clouding with tears. He took a shuddering breath, his shoulders beginning to shake. 

“Vasily.”

You frowned, taking his hands again in yours. “I’m so sorry, sladkiy mal'chik. I should have tried harder to stop him.”

Sweet boy. 

“I just—” He wavered, gripping your hands tight. 

You shook your head, pulling him to a corner away from prying eyes. “Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Breathe…take a minute, I’ll be right here. I’m right here, whatever you need. Saints know how many times you’ve been there for me…let me be there for you.”

Nikolai nodded, taking a breath. He eventually crouched down, sitting on the floor, and you immediately followed him down. You sat across from him on the ground, letting your joined hands rest in his lap as he eased his breathing. It was quiet for another moment as he gathered himself, before he opened his mouth to speak. 

“I just—I can’t breathe, I don’t know—I just…he’s my brother. I wasn’t that close to him, and I know he wasn’t a good person—he almost got us all killed just for the sake of his pride, I know that—but…he was my brother. He wasn’t always like this, you know, he didn’t deserve this….he was the first person who tried to teach me to sail when my Father wouldn’t. Father said I was too young, but Vasily showed me anyway. And now, just like my Father, he’s dead. They’re both gone, and I don’t know what to do. My Mother…she’s all alone now.”

You felt the pit in your stomach grow, your heart clenching as you watched him break. He was right. They were both dead. 

And it was all because of your brother. 

You frowned harder, squeezing his hands tight. “You don’t have to explain yourself, darling. You loved them both, and that’s okay. I hate my brother. I hate what he is, I hate that he’s done this, and I hate that—of all the people in the world—he’s hurt you…but I also can’t help but love him, too. I don’t know why, that’s just how it is. I understand, believe me. You can’t help who you love. And I am so sorry about the King and your brother. I'd give anything to change it and bring them back. I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”

You couldn’t help but choke back your own tears now, the pit in your stomach only growing when you felt his hands leave yours and come up to wipe the tears away when they inevitably fell. Your heart clenched in your chest as you looked up at him through wet lashes, seeing the concern and compassion on his face. 

He was so sweet. He was so unbelievably good. And he was in pain.

But here he was, on one of the worst days of his life, trying to make you feel better. Unable to stop himself from trying to help you, because he didn’t have it in him to watch you suffer. He didn’t want to watch anyone suffer. He had empathy and love pouring out of him, radiating through you, and it was enough to take your breath away.

“I’m so sorry—” You whispered again, only to be cut off by his palms cradling your face.

“Stop apologizing,” he said firmly, pausing as he let you reach up and wipe his own tears away. “Stop saying you’re sorry, Y/N. It isn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do. We did our best.”

You nodded, trying to let his words sink in. You reached up and pulled his hands away from your face, intertwining your fingers with his. He swiped his thumbs across the back of your palms, his breathing mirroring yours.

“What do you need me to do?” You finally said, clearing your throat. “You look overwhelmed, and I hate it. I'd prefer you sit down, but I know you, and I know you won’t do that, so…how can I help?”

He offered you a small smile, squeezing your hand. “I’m fine over here, milaya. Ask Alina, and don’t let her take no for an answer.”

Sweet girl.

You smiled back, nodding. You reluctantly let go of his hands, heading off to find Alina. Nikolai was right, she did argue and try and put you somewhere else. But a warm hand on her shoulder and a comforting smile was enough to put a crack in her resolve, and she finally shook her head and accepted your help with all the tasks she had apparently single-handedly taken on. 

It felt like days before everything seemed to settle and everyone could take a breath. And of course once things did settle, chaos erupted around you yet again. 

You had no idea how anyone managed to find you.

But you knew they did when the ceiling above you started rumbling, clouds of dirt breaking off and raining down on you. The rumble could be felt all throughout the cave floor, and it was enough to send Nikolai running back to yours and Alina’s side, Tamar hot on his trail. You watched in shock as you heard your Mother’s voice, scolding Genya for working too slow. 

They appeared out of the darkness together, and you nearly fell to your knees as your Mother came into view. 

“Baghra?” Alina asked once they rounded the corner, led by Tamar who had helped them down.

“Not the Grand Palace, but it’ll have to do,” Baghra said, her eyes scanning the room before they fell on you. “Y/N…you’re here. Finally left Aleksander, then?”

Nikolai stood closer by your side as you sputtered and wavered, unable to form a coherent response. You were saved from further embarrassment by Genya, who had slowly rounded the corner just as you mustered up the courage to say something. 

Your eyes widened in shock when you took in her face, scarred and marked in the same way your brother’s had been. 

You stumbled back, tears once again clouding your vision, the sound of static between your ears. You could hear the muffled conversation happening between Genya, Alina, and Nikolai, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. You were too busy scanning all the jagged edges of her scars, something deep in you telling you that there was nothing in the world that could have made these marks other than your brother himself, and his shadow monsters. 

“The Grisha who poisoned the King?” Nikolai asserted, pulling you from your thoughts as you heard what he said sharply.

Talks of treason and trials made their way into the conversation, along with the notion that, although Nikolai was now considered King, it was only because of Genya’s role in the first King’s death. Everyone continued to argue amongst themselves, Genya practically shaking where she stood as she let Alina defend her. You couldn’t bear to see her like this, forcing your feet to move as you slowly approached her. 

“You can’t blame her, Nikolai,” you murmured, gently cupping Genya’s cheeks as you locked eyes with her. “You can’t blame her anymore than you would blame me. I know Genya, and I know she would never do anything to hurt anyone unless her life and the lives of those she loves depended on it. If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame anyone else but her. Me, the King, my brother, it doesn’t matter. But know this…we failed her, Nikolai. My brother used her for his own selfish ambition…and she endured your Father’s abuse and your Mother’s wrath every single day with a strength I don’t think anyone in this room could ever have possibly hoped of possessing. She is the best of us. My closest friend, and you cannot punish her for this. Please.”

Genya’s hands grappled for yours, and you pulled her into your arms as you spoke. Nikolai’s eyes softened on you as you held her close, and you silently pleaded with him as you ran your hands up and down her arms, her own secured around your middle.

“Did he force you?” Nikolai managed to spit out, preparing himself for the blow the truth would surely deliver. 

“I,” Genya started, taking a deep breath as she continued. “I never sought his attention.”

You kept her close, nodding in confirmation when Nikolai’s gaze turned to you. “I am sorry that you’ve lost your Father, but his death was kinder than he ever was. Look at her face, Nikolai. There was no one behind this but my brother, and this was his punishment for her crossing him. The King is no longer alive to pay for his crimes, and my brother will pay for his one day, so please…don’t make her pay for the part she had no choice in playing. What they’ve done to her is more punishment than she will ever deserve.”

You could tell Nikolai was internally battling with himself. But the longer he looked at Genya’s face, the more he knew that he couldn’t punish her. She had suffered enough, and he wouldn’t be the third Lantsov to add to her suffering. 

“You’re safe here, Genya,” he finally said, taking a gentle step closer to her. “I will not harm you, and when I am King, I will do all I can to try and make up for what has happened to you. I’m so sorry.”

Genya let out a breath of relief, and you had to hold her tighter to keep her steady. Alina came to her side, easing her from your arms and leading her away, Tamar following closely behind them. 

When they were out of earshot, you turned to Nikolai. He looked ready to keel over, and you felt your heart sink as his shoulders fell, the weight of his position pressing him down with a pressure he couldn’t bear. 

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, his hands beginning to shake. “I knew my Father was capable of some awful things, but…I didn’t know.”

You quickly shushed him, wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms came up to wrap around your shoulders, and you could feel his cheek resting on the top of your head. He was clinging to you tightly, his breathing unsteady. You pressed your cheek into his chest, gently swaying you both back and forth. 

“You know….I’ve always had this sort of false hope that Aleksander would change one day. That he would see all the horrible things he’s done, and choose to change. After all these years, I still find myself desperately looking for something good in him. But I know now that I’m not going to find it. And yet, I disappoint myself every time looking for it. I want to believe in him, but I think it’s time I start believing in someone else. Someone worth it.”

“Like who?” He murmured, his cheek still pressed into your hair. “Yourself? Alina? You’re right darling, those are definitely better choices than your brother—

“You,” you interrupted, feeling him go rigid in your arms.

He pulled away, holding you at arms length. “What?”

“You,” you said again, giving him a small but warm smile. “I know you’re not King yet, but you just showed me how prepared you are for becoming one. What you did for Genya was kind, and gentle. I saw the look in her eye when she realized that you would be different from the Kings before you. You’re so good, Nikolai. And Ravka needs someone good. Someone like you. I’m sorry about the circumstances that led to you becoming King, it’s not fair, but you deserve it more than the rest of your family ever could.”

He shook his head as he listened to you speak, standing up straight. “No, I don’t. Look at this place, Y/N. Your Mother was right. I’ve been away too long, things have changed—”

“You can change things, Nikolai,” you said firmly, taking his hands. “You’ll have the power to, and I trust you to do it. I believe in you.”

He took a shaky breath, looking down at you solemnly. “You shouldn’t.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hands tight. You ran your thumb along the skin on the back of his palm, silently comforting him and hoping that he could feel and know just how much you cared for him and believed in him.

“You’re not going to convince me you aren’t worth following. You thinking I shouldn’t is exactly why I should. You don’t ask for blind faith, and you understand that you have to earn loyalty. You don’t force it, like my brother or the King did. Instead, you show people why you’re worth believing in. There’s no one I’d rather follow, Nikolai. No one.”

Nikolai took a deep breath, looking away from you and towards the ground. He couldn’t handle the way you were looking at him. 

Like he was the sun. 

He tugged you closer, once again hiding his face in your hair. He couldn’t come up with the right words to say, only holding you tight. His heart was pounding and he knew his palms were sweaty, but you were holding them anyway, smiling against his chest. You stood like that a moment longer, before you both got back to work. 

—

'Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold onto you

The day your brother died, you knew you were completely and utterly alone. 

A few days prior, news of your Mother’s death reached you. She died holding Aleksander back, and it saved Alina and Mal. When you found out, Nikolai had to spend the night awake with you, holding you close in silence while you clung to him.

You weren’t with Aleksander when he died. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch him fall again.

You knew Alina would be safe with Mal and Zoya, who had brought back the Crows with her. With Nina and Inej as additional help, Alina would be fine without you. She didn’t need you hesitating when the time to kill Aleksander finally came. So, you went with the rest of the Crows, Nikolai, and his crew, choosing to help them when everyone had to split up. You had mere seconds to decide, but you followed Nikolai into the ruins, leaving you brother behind forever. 

Everyone fought with everything they had.

Nikolai almost died, pinned up against a pillar with the claw of one of Aleksander’s nichevo’ya imbedded in his shoulder. You tried to pull it back, but even your powers couldn’t stop it. You had almost lost all hope when it suddenly dissipated, sending Nikolai crashing to the floor. 

Tamar rushed to his side, pulling him up. “Kirigan must be dead!”

It was like the wind was knocked out of you, but you forced yourself to keep it together, hooking an arm under Nikolai’s and helping him stand. 

“Y/N—” He said sympathetically, but you shook your head, keeping your grip tight. 

“Don’t,” you breathed, trying to keep him steady against you. “Just keep going.”

Everyone filed out of the building, the bright sun blinding you all. The Fold was gone, once and for all. It was eerie, seeing the flat open land without the stain of merzost. 

You looked around for the rest of your friends. Alina was nowhere to be found, and you assumed she had stayed with Mal—wherever that was. 

Inej suddenly came over the hill to reunite with her friends. She was carrying something by her side. You looked down to see that it was the Neshyener sword…and it was coated in black blood. You held your breath, your eyes meeting hers. When her face fell, and she gave you a solemn look of sympathy, you knew whose blood it was.

You knew your brother was dead. 

You let out a sob, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Your knees slammed into the ground, crunching down against the gravel. You could feel the jagged edges digging into your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest that was threatening to rip you apart. You dug your hands into the sand, desperately trying to ground yourself and stop crying over a man not worth your tears while everyone stared at you, having no idea what to say or do to comfort the girl who had lost her Mother and brother all in the same week. As you heaved another sob, you felt two hands on your shoulders. You looked up to see Alina.

She knelt down next to you, pulling you into a hug. “Do you want to see him? I can take you to him, Zoya is keeping watch.”

The thought of your brother’s dead body made you want to vomit, and you shook your head, tears still rolling down your face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“He’s gone,” you cried, clinging to the back of her jacket. “He’s really gone.”

“But you’re not. You’re alive, Y/N. We’re all alive and here because you had the courage to leave his side. Ravka is safe from him now. Our future King is safe. We couldn’t have done this without your help. Thank you for helping us.”

You wiped your tears, nodding. “I know it’s for the better. I know he deserved it. It just…it still hurts. It hurts so bad. He wasn’t always like this.”

“I know,” Alina murmured, squeezing you one more time before letting you go. “It’s alright to mourn him. In some ways, I’ll mourn him too. But you’ll be alright. I promise. We’re all here.”

You felt another hand on your shoulder, and looked up to see Nikolai. He had been patched up a little bit, no doubt the work of Genya’s powers. He still had blood caked in his hair, and a tourniquet tied around his leg. The sight of him injured lessened the ache in your chest for Aleksander, and you took a breath, drying your tears. 

He offered you a hand, pulling you up when you took it. “Come with me.”

You gave Alina a grateful nod, before turning and following Nikolai. He led you by the hand all the way to his skiff, which was empty. Everyone was still either guarding Alexander, treating the wounded, or regrouping down by the ruins. You let him lead you on board, sitting next to him on a crate on the deck when he patted the spot beside him.

You reached up, wiping away some of the stray blood on his temple with your thumb. “Are you alright?”

“Genya patched me up,” he said softly, letting you momentarily deflect from what was really on your mind. “I’m fine, I promise. Everyone else is too. I expect they’ll be going their own ways soon enough. We have a country to rebuild.”

He slipped his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. You leaned into his side, your gaze set in your lap.

“And where will you go?” You asked, sparing a glance at him. “Back to the palace, I expect?”

He nodded. “It’s my duty to my country. Like I promised Genya…we have to do better. Things have to change for Ravka. And I need to be the one to do it.”

You nodded, looking back towards your lap. Nikolai frowned, brushing his shoulder with yours as he tightened his grip on your hand. 

“What about you? Where will you go?”

His question made you spiral. You shook your head frantically, hopping down from the crate. You paced back and forth in front of him, eyes once again welling with tears.

“Saints, I am so sick of crying,” you muttered under your breath, wiping away the fallen tears.

Nikolai quickly stood, trying to calm you down. He eventually grabbed you by your shoulders, holding you still. He shushed you, trying to get you to look at him. 

“Look at me,” he murmured, speaking firmly when you tried to pull away. “Y/N…look at me. What is it? What can I do? Talk to me.”

You finally met his eyes, standing still. “I don’t know what to do, Nikolai. I don’t know where to go. Everyone has someone to go home to, but I don’t know what that even is for me anymore. My family is gone, and half the Little Palace hates me. Where do I go? Who do I have?”

You continued to spiral, Nikolai’s eyes widening in shock as he listened to you speak. You continued, your hands gripping his sleeves as you clung to him.

“I don’t know what we are, Nikolai,” you choked out, embarrassed to even say it. “But…I don't think I can bear not having you in my life. As pathetic as that is, I don’t think I can do it. You’re just about the only good thing I have left, and I don’t want to lose you.”

You continued to ramble, sending an ache rattling through Nikolai’s chest. He could feel his heart breaking at your words, and he finally stopped you, cupping your face in his palms. He held you gently, like you would break into a million pieces if he applied enough pressure. It made him want to burst into tears. He shushed you again gently, his thumbs resting against your jaw. 

He had effectively silenced you, and you waited in nervous anticipation for him to speak. His eyes met yours, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours as he breathed you in. 

“You think you can’t come with me?” He finally asked, his face falling when he realized you hadn’t even considered the possibility of him wanting you to stay. “Of course I want you to come with me. I want you by my side. Yes, everyone else might have someone to return to and a home waiting for them. But you have me, Y/N. You have a home with me. And I want you to stay. It’s you and me.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around his words, absentmindedly leaning into his touch. “Really? You’re serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life. You were there for me when I needed you most, and now I’m going to be there for you. I’ll always be there for you. I won't let you let me go. You’re stuck with me. As your King, I’m commanding it.”

You stifled a laugh, breathing him in. “You’re commanding it? I guess I can’t say no, then, can I?”

“It wouldn’t be wise,” he grinned, pulling you closer. “I’m very powerful, you know. Lots of friends in high places.”

You nodded, letting your hands wander up to cup his cheeks. He smiled wide, letting his hands settle around your waist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, gazing down at you lovingly. 

“You’re going to be alright, Y/N,” he murmured, running his fingers along the base of your spine. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

You were never going to get over his positivity and resilience, two qualities on the list of his neverending endearing qualities. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, his hopefulness rubbing off on you. You believed him. It was going to get better, and you would be alright. You could feel it.

“And you’re going to be a good leader,” you mirrored, giving him a grateful smile. “We can make sure of that together.”

—

A/N - Hi! Nikolai, my favorite mirrorball, I hope I did him justice with this. It’s SO long omg I’m sorry, but hopefully that makes up for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to write this. It honestly feels a little like I rambled the whole way through this fic and I kinda hate it but I also really like some parts, and I spent too long writing it, so I gotta put it out. Anyway, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think :)

[tastesmes]

hey, isn’t that SAVANNAH CLARKE, who looks a little like SADIE STANLEY? i hear SHE is a TWENTY FIVE year old CIS WOMAN who works as a WAITRESS @ UNCLE SAM’s DINER who has been in town for TWO WEEKS. they AREN’T a member of one of aspen creek’s founding families. you can usually find them at WILLOW STREET or THE COZY NOOK CAFE. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of HALF PACKED SUITCASE ALWAYS BY THE DOOR, CRUMBLED BUS TICKETS, A FLICKERING NEON SIGN BUZZING FAINTLY IN THE DISTANCE, HOMESICK BUT NOT KNOWING WHERE HOME IS. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through!

BIOGRAPHY

triggers: drug addiction, mentions of verbal abuse, foster care.

her life had always been tragic. a father who disappeared right after she was born, a mother who constantly made a pledge to stop steering down the wrong path — only to make those sharp turns away. on and off, it’s what she did. looking at her kids, a promise to be better but never actually keeping it. at least savannah has her old sibling. someone who made their life feel a little less like hell. she depended on them. looked at them the way she should’ve been looking at her mother; a parental figure. a caretaker. a sibling. light in all the darkness.

only that light disappeared one day. sav's last memory of them being a smile as they walked out the door — an unspoken promise that they’d be back .. only to never return. at first, this seemed like the wake up call her mother needed. her oldest child missing, desperately wanting them back home but as the years went on— no answers— things only got worse. sav no longer had someone to lean on, to shield her from what was really going on. day and night, dealing with her mother and having to deal with the verbal lash outs.

then came the time when she was removed from the house. word finally getting around about what was going on behind closed doors and with no other family, savannah was placed into the foster care system. it only hurt more to see that her mother hardly put up a fight and solidifying her biggest fear: her mother didn't love her. not like she did her older sibling. there was no fight for her back, no attempt to try to get better. only a woman who could barely look her daughter in the eye as she was dragged away.

bouncing from home to home, each home worse than the last became the new norm. sav began to fold into herself with every house she went through. there was no attempt to make friends, no trying to please the foster parents of the month. gone was the sweet little girl who tried and in her place was a child who became known as a problem. a troublemaker. having a poor attitude, picking fights, not taking up chores or doing her best at school.

by eighteen, she obviously was never adopted and never found a family that could picture having savannah apart of their life. thus, leaving her to fend for herself. she had no goals, no clue what her next steps were and decided to merely do something she's never done before — travel. by her own means. she took up multiple part time jobs, saving up money and eventually saved up enough money to begin her travels.

there was never a destination in mind. constantly hopping onto buses or trains, and going wherever felt right at the time. every destination she'd stay a couple months in a motel, or temporarily roommating while working a simple part time job and experiencing whatever this town or city had to offer. though, the issue was — savannah never felt as though there was a place that ever felt right. no place that made her feel like it could be a place where she could live forever. on top of that, sav always felt the urge to run whenever people got too close. when growing up and never understanding what it means to be loved, she'd pack up and leave whenever she feels like people are getting to close for comfort. her walls built so high and has no idea how to allow herself to let them down.

MISCELLANEOUS

to be announced.

[bookwormsbutterfly]

Who am I to deny a challenge? This short fic takes place pre-story so tragically Buddy does not appear.

It was June, and Chase found himself at his grandpa's home in sugar springs. He'd just arrived recently and he already knew it would be a boring summer, so he decided to focus on his career. Stardom took work, and practice, so that was how he decided to spend his time.

This particular day he was so busy practicing his routine in his bedroom he almost didn't notice his phone go off. He wouldn't have if it weren't for that notification tone. His phone let him set specific notifications for specific people, and that particular chime he was always alert for, the sound of a text from his mom. He sat down and grabbed his phone opening the text,

Mom: Susie came by the other day with a care package. I think Beth and Dale tried to stop her from bringing this monstrosity into their house but you know how Susie is.

The photo was of a rainbow basket packed with various things all decorated in rainbow. It certainly looked out of place in the boring room it sat in. There was a plushie, a blanket, a collection of scarves in various colors, a wig, and a note that just read "it's pride month, you know what that means."

Chase chuckled and texted back

Chase: omg that's awesome. Beth better let you keep it.

Mom: even if Beth hides it in the closet, it's bringing me joy here and now.

The next photo was of Chases mom wearing the rainbow wig, propped up with the rainbow blanket atop her.

Mom: what do you think? How do I look?

Chase: amazing. I might need to dye my hair to match.

Mom: now that would be a sight.

Mom: I love you

Chase: I love you too.

Chase sat there for a long moment, staring at the photo of his mother. The bright colors of the wig made her seem all the more pallid, but she was smiling. He saved the photo to his phone.

It was the same day that Chase found himself bullied into grocery shopping by his grandpa and cousin. As he grumpily made his way through the isles a rainbow display caught his eye, it was mostly just random stuff with rainbows put on it sold as "pride merch" but there was a collection of mini-bottles of temporary hair color, all the colors of the rainbow. And it reminded him of his conversation with his mother. No way he'd actually dye his gorgeous blonde hair, but it could be fun to color it temporarily to send a photo to mom. He tossed the set in his cart.

Chase didn't get the chance to do it until the next day, where he spent the entire morning staring in the mirror as he tried to get his hair colored rainbow in just the right way. Then there was the matter of an outfit, what should he wear for this? He settled on a black shirt so if the hair color bled onto it it wouldn't be a big deal, and took a photo. The shirt was wrinkled weirdly in that one so he took another, then another, and another, and when he finally had the perfect photo he was being called down to lunch. He sent it to his mom as he went downstairs.

At the lunch table everyone stared at him "it's wash-out" Chase reassured them.

Deacon simply asked "Why?"

Chase told them over lunch about Susie's basket, and as he was finishing up his lunch Deacon said "you should wash that out now. Even temporary dyes can stain blonde hair like yours.

Chase was in the shower in a flash, watching the colors meld to a soapy brown as it washed off him. He shampooed and scrubbed thoroughly until he had no more color dripping off him and even a little after that just to be sure. He conditioned his hair and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off. It was only wiping off the mirror that he saw himself. The color had sort of washed out. His hair was more of a pastel rainbow now than it had been before, but he didn't want it rainbow at all! He jumped back in the shower and continued scrubbing at his hair before he finally decided. It was pride month, his hair had to go back to normal soon and for now, it would be alright. He could hide it with a hat if need be. It could be a fun stunt to have rainbow hair for a bit in June. As he dried off and got dressed again he looked out the window at the boring lawn, and around his room, "this'll probably be the most interesting thing to happen to me this summer, I might at well just have fun with it" he decided.

[mumms-the-word]

BG3 Tav Backstory Bash

This is a challenge to help people flesh out their Tav’s backstory by exploring their past. It is organized into four sections with seven prompts. You can treat this as a monthly challenge or a general project. You can write headcanons, fics, or share art based on the prompts! You can interpret the prompts however you want. If you want to share use the tag #bg3backstorybash

Got tagged by @elspethdekarios who already knows like way too much about Dani (I always pick Dani for these things, even though I should try to do them for Ardynn, Freyr, and Invi too). I'm insane and did all of the prompts from @kelandrin's original post. Anyone who steals this absolutely does not have to do that.

I'm tagging everyone. All of you. Everyone single person with a Tav.

Meridan "Dani" Zavrai (later Dekarios)

Age: 25

Mephistopheles Tiefling • College of Lore Bard • Entertainer • Chaotic Good

For your sanity, it's all under the cut c:

Baby:

Parents

Dani is the daughter of Maeva Zavrai and some unknown, unnamed (for me) deadbeat bard who never stuck around. Obviously Maeva knew his name, but she never spoke it after he left, because there was no point in dredging him back up.

They met in a tavern. Maeva was working as a barmaid to save up money to accomplish her dream of becoming a talented seamstress who designed elegant clothing. A certain handsome tiefling bard visited one day and the two hit it off really well. He ended up sticking around for a few months right up until the night Maeva told him that she thought she was pregnant. He conveniently disappeared the next day. No notes, no goodbyes. Maeva saw it coming a mile away, but it still stung.

Around the time Dani was a few months old, though, Brannon Rufford stopped by with his wife and brother, calling themselves the Merry Rovers. Brann's wife was heavily pregnant the night they stopped to perform at Maeva's tavern, and went into labor that same night. Maeva assisted with the birth despite not being much of a nursemaid, but Brann's wife died due to complications. Brann was...broken, and at a loss, and wasn't sure what to do next. Maeva offered to nurse his infant daughter for a few days while he figured something out. He and his brother disappeared for a week, but Brann then came back with a handful of gold and a strange request. If he worked to provide money for her, Dani, and his new daughter, Liara, could she care for his daughter for a year or two? Maeva reluctantly agreed, and from then on Brann became a kind of adopted dad to Dani, while Maeva became an adopted mom to Liara.

Birth

Dani was born in a room in the tavern where Maeva worked at the time. It was relatively uneventful as far as births go, but poor Maeva was expected to get back to work only days after giving birth, or else risk losing her room over the tavern. She moved in temporarily with her mother until she met Brann, and Brann's handful of gold and continued support allowed her to purchase a ramshackle house of her own.

First word

Probably "mumma" or something. Maeva was all Dani had for the first several months of her life. Maeva's mom was there, too, but she died before Dani could have any real memory of her.

When they first walked

She was probably a very average 10-11 months or so. I can just see her doing cute butt-scooches for the longest time, with her grandmother tutting that she's falling behind, right up until Maeva brings Liara home. When she first comes home, Dani pulls herself up to peek down into the makeshift cradle where Liara is laying, and it's obvious she's trying to make sense of this not-blue baby with no tail and round ears. Maeva tells her that Liara is going to be staying with them for a while and that it will mean some changes. After that, she's a little more inclined to walk (in part out of necessity).

Tantrum

Dani has had so many tantrums (though she's adapted her style since her baby days). Her first significant tantrum was probably after Liara had joined their household, but after Maeva's mother had died. Maeve had to bring both of them to work at the tavern and had placed them in a corner behind the bar with a couple of wooden toys to keep them occupied. While she was off cleaning tables, Liara snatched one of Dani's toys and Dani just had to scream about it. Just an absolute racket, which set Liara off, so now there are two crying babies in the corner. The tavern owner threatened to fire Maeva if she couldn't find someone to watch her brats, so Maeva quit and returned home to turn her place into a seamstress shop, something she'd been planning to do for ages anyway.

First sickness

Very early in Dani's infancy, she caught a mild cold thanks to the winter chill. Maeva was beside herself. This was her first kid, she didn't have much money for a healer, and she didn't know the first thing about soothing a baby who was hurting from upset tummies, stuffy noses, and other symptoms that must have been very, very new to a baby as young as Dani was. She ended up running to her mother's house in the wee hours of the morning half-convinced Dani was going to be dead by sunrise, until her mother took the baby, told Maeva to go to sleep, and had Dani snoozing peacefully within the hour.

Thunderstorm

Dani probably slept through most thunderstorms in Baldur's Gate. Stonyeyes, the district where Maeva lives and works, is sheltered partly by the Duskhawk Hill, so they didn't have much to fear from the Chionthar river flooding or anything like that. Honestly, the tavern noises she slept through as a baby were probably louder than most thunderstorms.

Childhood:

Friends/Siblings

I'm putting these together because to Dani, her friends Liara, Paraxxel, and Kellen are her siblings, especially Liara.

Liara was obviously the first. Though Liara lived with Dani and Maeva for the first 2-3 years of her life, Brann eventually decided to take Liara traveling with him. So for the next 10-12 years, Brann and Liara were a bit more like extended family who dropped by once a month or so. Liara still calls Maeva "Maemae" (a mix of Maeva and mama) and Dani still considers Brann the closest thing to a father she's ever had, but their relationship during this time was a bit more like really close friends. Liara is a bubbly, romantic girl who is obsessed with a good love story or love ballad and thinks her father hangs the moon.

Dani met Paraxxel (her dragonborn bestie) when he was just a street performer with an old drum and the clothes on his back. I have a whole fic about them meeting. But long story short, she convinces him to join Brann and Liara as part of the Merry Rovers, so now every monthly visit has him in tow, too. Paraxxel is a snarky, restless kind of guy who's always tapping out rhythms on his legs, on the table, etc. He and Dani are often going back and forth, ribbing and teasing each other. He's five years older than Dani, so he also takes on a kind of protective older brother role in her life, even though she insists she can fight in a scrap better than he can.

Kellen, the final member of the current Merry Rovers, joined around the time Dani was 13 or 14. He's a quiet, shy half-elf who mostly plays the flute for the Rovers and doesn't sing as much. He's about a year or two older than Dani and Liara, and Liara fell in love with him at first sight. She constantly talks about the fact that they're going to get married one day, but she never actually told Kellen she liked him until they were all well in their teens, because for a while it seemed like Kellen wasn't interested. He was, he just didn't know how to put it into words, and Brann is scary. Out of all the Merry Rovers, he's the most level-headed and sensible, second only to Brann.

Getting into trouble

When does Dani not get into trouble? She gets into scraps a lot in her childhood, including the scrap that let her meet Paraxxel. The kids that made up little street gangs in Stonyeyes were everywhere, and she wasn't about to let them cause trouble for her and her mom.

Birthday

I don't have an exact date for her birthday because I didn't think that far ahead, but during her childhood, her birthdays were always spent with Maeva (and Brann, Liara, and whoever else was part of the Merry Rovers that year, if they could make it). Maeva usually went out to buy a sweet treat and made as fine a dinner as she could for the evening. Gifts were few and far between, but Dani will never forget her twelfth birthday, when Brann gifted her her first fiddle and promised to teach her how to play it.

Games

Dani loves games. All games. Most of the games she played in childhood were the kinds you can play without actual equipment (no balls, no cards, etc). But being part of tavern culture in many ways, she learned how to play cards and play simple games in the streets with other kids too. (I have a fic where she teaches the BG3 companions one of her favorite games, actually).

Learning something new

Brann taught her every musical thing she knows, plus a couple of easy bard spells once he saw she had the talent for it. He started her off on the lute, since that's what Liara was learning at the same time, but at 12 he gifted her with a small fiddle and began teaching her that, too. She practiced for hours whenever he wasn't around so that when he next arrived, she could impress him and learn something new.

Trauma

This is a good segue into the next section. Despite growing up relatively poor, getting into scraps as a kid, and having several of the people she loved the most only visiting once in a while, Dani's childhood wasn't exactly traumatic. Hard, maybe, but she was happy most of the time. That is until she was 15 and her mother grew ill with some kind of illness that nearly killed her.

Since Dani and her mother couldn't afford healers for the most part, they tried to cure the illness the best they could, but her mother was bedridden for weeks. Dani was forced to pick up a few jobs, in the tavern, playing on the street, trying to do other people's laundry, to earn enough coin to buy her mother potions or herbs. Brann and the other Rovers were nowhere nearby and she didn't know how to get in touch with them. For the first time, she felt suddenly desperately alone and terrified that she might lose her mom.

Maeva eventually recovered, but the illness had forever weakened her legs, and she was unable to leave her bed for several more weeks.

Despite nearly losing her mother, Dani came to the conclusion that the only thing she could do to earn enough money to actually help her mother was to join the Merry Rovers. So once her mother was out of danger, she begged and begged and begged to join the Rovers the next time they passed through. Maeva agreed reluctantly, and the next time Brann arrived, he agreed to let her travel with them for while. Dani vowed to send money back as often as she could so that her mother could afford visits to a healer.

Teenager:

First love

Probably some scrappy Outer City kid who told her she was pretty enough times that she figured he wasn't just flirting. But even then, it was a fleeting relationship and it fizzled out immediately when Dani's mom got sick. After that, well...Dani is a flirty girl, and she's no stranger to one-off trysts and quick flings. It isn't until she meets Gale that she realizes what it actually means to love someone the way ballads sing about love.

Rebellion

Dani is a bit of a rebel at heart. While traveling with the Rovers, even though she loved and respected Brann, she didn't always listen to him when he told her to stay at the inn they were using that night or to not wander off. Liara swears Brann got more gray hair having to deal with Dani ignoring his orders than he ever had traveling with just her, Paraxxel, and Kellen. Sneaking out was just a common thing for Dani for a while. But she always came back.

Running away

Technically Dani didn't run away because she left her mother's home to travel with Brann with her mother's permission...but she did technically leave home at 15 to live the life of a wanderer without a home. I don't think she ever thought about running away from the Rovers. Never once. She loves them too much.

Reckless behavior

More than once while traveling with the Rovers, Dani has snuck out to meet someone for a tryst or gone gambling with the money she's supposed to be saving up to send to her mother. She's a good card player, but she sometimes doesn't know when to stop while she's ahead.

Peer pressure

Paraxxel and Dani have almost always been as thick as thieves, but for the most part it's never been romantic or flirty between them. Despite this, the ever-romantic Liara swore she saw sparks flying between them and that Dani and Paraxxel should totally start going out. Both of them were hesitant, but Liara is pretty persistent. So for Dani's 18th birthday, she and Paraxxel agreed to at least try it out. They both got pretty wasted and slept together that night. It was...fine? But the vibes were weird and both agreed, in the clarity of a slightly hungover morning, that they shouldn't do it again. They both preferred being friends and nothing more.

Growing pains

Dani probably went through a physical growth spurt after joining the Rovers, but it was nothing that she couldn't handle between knowing how to mend her own clothes and pestering Brann with a bunch of questions he always felt a little too awkward to answer. Emotionally, she dealt with the repercussions of several ill-advised trysts or unwise decisions to party or gamble. It took her a while to realize that she didn't have to constantly go out and "experience life" for her to have a good time with the Rovers.

Taking responsibility

Brann doesn't coddle his bards in his troupe. If you're going to be part of the Merry Rovers, you're also going to know how to manage your belongings, keep up with your instrument, mend your own clothes (or pay for someone to mend them), and behave yourself so you don't get tossed in jail (none of them are thieves for the most part, but Dani and Paraxxel did teach themselves how to pick locks and pockets). The most he's going to do for you is negotiate the rooms for the night and occasionally pay for dinner. So while Dani traveled with the Rovers, she had to learn to be a little more independent and deal with the consequences if she decided she was too lazy to keep up with her stuff correctly or gambled away all her money.

Adulthood:

Their “first time”

Her first time was after she left to join with the Rovers, but before she was 18. She can't even remember his name. She just remembers waking up the next morning to Brann throwing the guy out of her room and looking furious. She got smarter about flings after that. No more inviting people to the room that Brann was paying for.

Serious relationships

She never really had a serious romantic relationship. They were constantly on the move. She was fine with that, and put most of her romantic energy into teasing Liara and Kellen about their snails-pace romance while letting out steam with whatever handsome dude or pretty girl was fine with a few hours of fun. Believe it or not, Gale is her first committed romantic relationship ever. It’s very new for her and she often wonders if it’s too good to be true.

Work

Her job was to perform with the Merry Rovers. Brann could play many instruments, but he stuck to the lyre, while Liara played the lute, Paraxxel played the drums, Kellen played the flute, and Dani played the violin. She often sang and danced, too. The Rovers did more than play music, they tried to perform with decent theatricality under Brann's general direction. While not much of an actor himself, he knew how to construct a good performance, relying on the younger bards to perform and dance while he maintained the foundation of the performance with his music and voice. The Rovers were decently popular amid the Outer City districts.

Leaving home

She left home when she was 15. She's been traveling with the Rovers for ten years before she got snatched by the nautiloid.

Aging

Dani's a cool 25. "Old" to her feels like it'll be miles away. She often jokes that Brann, who is only barely 50, is old, but he's a spry guy and she hopes she's half as fit as he is when she's 50.

Finding your place

Dani doesn't feel like Dani unless she's got a fiddle in her hands or a song on her tongue. You couldn't convince her to become anything other than a bard. Separating her from music, song, and dance is like asking her to cut off a limb. She wouldn't be the same without it.

She's also obsessed with Baldur's Gate. She thinks it's the best city in the world. Not the safest, not the richest, but certainly the most colorful and the only place she would want to be. That is...until she's snatched up and dumped outside the city.

Now, she realizes her place is among the people who love her. Home, to her, is a person who holds your heart. It's her mother, it's Brann and the Rovers, it's her companions that she befriends after the nautiloid abduction, and in the end, it's Gale. Baldur's Gate is a wonderful city, and as long as she's within the city she feels happy. But she knows now that she can make a home wherever she is, as long as she's with someone she loves.

Starting a family/found family

Obviously the Rovers were her first found family, but she absolutely considers the companions she makes in BG3 her found family as well. To her, it just means her family is growing. It includes her mom, the Rovers, the companions, but also tieflings like Rolan, Cal and Lia, Bex and Danis, Alfira and Lakrissa.

She marries Gale, of course, and I think they wait to have kids for a few years. She's convinced she would be a bad mom at first (in that “I can barely take care of myself” kind of way) and Gale obviously has reservations. But I do think that down the line, they have a pair of twins who are just utter chaos, and they're only too happy to rely on their wide network of family members to help get through the more turbulent years of raising twins with Dani's personality and Gale's intelligence. It really does take a village...

———

Congrats you made it to the end! Please enjoy Dani’s expression for when she was like “Hey Gale this Waterdeep illusion is cool but I want to smash YOU, not an illusion of you” and his reply was “The old ways then. If that is what you wish, so be it.”

I could caption this so many ways lmao

[itsliyahhbih]

Into the spider-verse: Xiomara’s intro

Sum: this is my intro to my au fanfic. Puerto Rico’s Araña-Mujer & it takes place on Earth 906. This starts in Xi’s POV‼️

A/n: The other characters come in later. The story really starts after her intro so this of this rlly as an intro/pt.1 ‼️ In this story Xiomara does end up with Miles G. Morales. HOWEVER, this is being posted as a test to see ‘how good’..this fic is. This is basically a ‘rough draft’ I’ve honestly barely edited this. I have read thru it so hopefully I didn’t miss any BIG errors. I just wanna see if others enjoy this or if maybe I get thrown suggestions. If this does good I’ll possibly continue with this fanfic on here :))

Okay let’s get this started , Hi I’m Xiomara Marina Aguillar . Puerto Rico’s one and only Spider girl. I got bitten by a radio active spider on a school field trip to Oscorp Labs for a career day. My spider bite gave me special venom powers through nails that can temporarily paralyze my victim. As well as camouflage effect that allows me to blend into any surroundings, also my body temperature drops leaving me undetectable to heat vision. I’m 15 years old and attend Visions, the center of advanced studies..It’s..It’s really just a highschool, but I like to remind myself of what my papa said to me. “Mija, you earned your place at that school! I’ll be damned to see stuck up children run you away from a proper education!!” Something my father didn’t have growing up. I tested very highly my whole life and always got good grades, school and education came so naturally to me..friends..not so much.

It was my papa’s dream for me to go to this school , so who was my mother to deny a man on his deathbed his dream for his eldest daughter right?…he..hehe. Yeahhh uh…My pa, he’s gone…He passed away when I was 13 from Cancer, but I don't like to remember him as a Cancer patient! I like to remember him for just being my papa. The one cracking jokes, cooking good food and saving lives as a firefighter…

I always wished he never got sick because then I just know..My life wouldn’t be the way it is now..

Months after my papa’s death my mother went downhill even almost lost her nursing license. She picked up drinking and smoking cigarettes heavily, also picking up extreme hours at the hospital to try to keep us afloat. She liked to claim all the hours were for keeping us afloat..a part of me believed that. That she was still the mami who used to give pep talks and smother you in kisses every morning, but really I knew it was also to feed her addiction..Apart of my mom still wanted to be a mother but sometimes couldn't bare to look at us and so I tried really hard to shelter my siblings from this part of her, but as they got older they became coherent to their surroundings . It was hard for us emotionally and financially, we were even still paying off his medical bills and that alone was a struggle to do.. Don’t get me wrong, my parents both made good money. I wouldn’t say we are DIRT poor as of right now, just struggling.. Those bills were just always a harsh reminder to us that he was gone..

We even lived in a beautiful house when he was alive but the hospital bills, caring for us, our wants and needs no matter what, bills..It swallowed them as his hours at work decreased more and more due to his cancer getting worse. Eventually putting him on disability we slowly got back afloat, but when he passed and we no longer got his disability income we lost our home and my mom lost her sanity. My parents worked so hard their whole lives to get us outta the hood for us to end up right back there . As I stated my mami kinda went..loco, She wasn’t herself any more, gave us no attention and became very cold and mean as the alcohol addiction increased so I picked up the care of my younger siblings and our apartment we moved into after the loss of the house. It was just my moms job to give me her paycheck to get it ALL done..Eventually we would argue about the money and costs of her habits so I had to pick up a job to pick up her slack..But that's enough of my life story let’s just get into it…

To be continued..?

[choccy-zefirka]

random OC ask: does your OC have any significant relationships that have defined them, for better or for worse? what do those relationship(s) look like, and have they changed over the course of your OC’s story?

I only just recovered this after going through my inbox just to feel something (as one does) so let me tell you about Belea and her relationship with her daughter!

Their story plays out a little bit like Brave the animated film, but Grimdark TM. Belea was once the matriarch of a proud dwarven clan, keeping all the admin cogs and wheels running and making sure the menfolk don't mess anything up when drinks are flowing and things get rowdy. Her rebellious child — she hasn't had a name so far, but for placeholder purposes let's call her Mari, as a nod to Merida with a letter swapped to make it a biiiit less obvious — snapped back against Belea's rules, while Belea got frustrated that Mari, whom she was very proud of and saw as a worthy successor, would not learn the responsibilities of a future clan lady.

Belea was not physically abusive or emotionally manipulative, and Mari was still fond of her, though obviously not as close to her as she was as a little girl — but there was a lot of miscommunication. One day, their tempers got the better of them, resulting in Mari running off in a typical teenage fashion.

Like her prototype, Mari went to a witch to make a magical deal... Only her witch turned out to be a hag, much less cutesy than the little old bear-obsessed lady. Perhaps it was Auntie Ethel herself, making it for a first encounter out of three! (Three being the symbolic number and all).

Mari asked the hag to "make my mother see me". And, right in the middle of a feast, the hag struck the entire clan with a bloodthirsty craze, leading to them slaughtering each other so that Mari and Belea could meet eyes across a field of corpses, finally one on one. They then banded together, mother and daughter, to defeat the hag (temporarily, of course), whereupon Mari (seemingly :3 ) succumbed to her wounds and Belea, deprived of her family by her own stubbornness, left on a self-imposed exile into the Underdark, where she spent years fishing in grim contemplation with her kin's Duergar cousins, sometimes not speaking a single word over the course of months... And then the Absolute's cult arrived, and she got tadpoled.

My idea for how Mari survived is that a fae sauntered by and whisked her off to get healed (perhaps I can even tie her in with another OC, Yoli the faun). And, given how wibbly wobbly time is in the Feywild, she assumed that she was just taking a couple of weeks to recuperate and then realized it had been years.

Her reunion with her mother will be bittersweet, as after all, hag aside, Belea is still the villain in her story (she was the adult in the relationship, and thus the responsibility for not being more patient with Mari and thus not preventing her from going to the hag in the first place lies on her). She may not have a right to be back in Mari's life after everything that happened, but she will take some solace in knowing that her daughter survived, as she makes her own journey towards being a better person and saving the world. Hers is a story that shows that parents and children can still clash and fallout without outright abuse being involved, and that it is possible for a parent to see the error of their ways after the child is no longer in their life, and keep trying to do better regardless of whether their child wants to forgive them.

[vees-strangeworld-omniverse]

ARGONUS MYTHOS: the foxes, the crow and the man

(NOTE: descriptions copy-pasted from DA where i normally/originally post my works. any context that is missing here on tumblr can be found on my DA [linked here and on pinned post] )

[this is actually a continuation of my treehound breeds post. the original deviantart piece has a short folktale to it, but it already was getting long by tumblr standards so i decided to give it's own posts]

__________

[........]since the original post contained a story (dubbed "the foxes, the crow and the man"), i guess i could expand upon that story as well:

   a long, long time ago, there existed a family of grey foxes: a mother, a father, and their three kits. food was plentiful, water was clean, and the woods was thriving. all was good, until one particular winter day.

   a wildfire had started. the woodland was on fire, as what few animals that stay during winter fled to escape. many did not make it out alive, and many would perish, leaving nothing but charred bones and ashes. the foxes got lucky; their den was deep, and it protected them from the flames and smoke. when they emerged, the woodlands that once provided them with all they needed was now nothing more than a ashened wasteland. and because it takes such a long time for woodlands to heal from such a natural disaster, they had no choice but to leave the place they once called "home".    for seven days, they searched for a new place. however, it seemed like the wastelands stretched for what seemed like forever. every animal that even managed to survive saw the predators coming from miles, and would run away before they could even sneak up on them. the only thing that seemed to keep them alive was the river that they followed; knowing that the running water would at least quench whatever thirst they had.

   it wasn't until one day that the mother and father were out hunting, when she spotted a crow. it was the mother that, somehow, managed to catch the crow and was about to kill it. however, instead of pleading for their life, the crow told them that he knew their situation, but if they spared him he could show them a place where there was food. this seemed to stall the two just enough for the corvid to explain.

   as it turns out, like most of the animals they tried catching, the crow saw them before they saw him. however, unlike most who ran away, he knew that he could help them, as he too was in their same situation ever since the fires have destroyed his home. however, during his travels to find food and shelter, he found that over the mountains was a valley, containing woodlands that remained untouched by the fires.    inside this last healthy piece of woodlands, there was what initially looked like a camp. a small "village", with small, hairless creatures no bigger than he was. these creatures had been a food source for many; with their food scraps and the vermin that plagued the place, it was a perfect place to call home, at least just temporarily.

   normally, many prey items would lie in order to escape beccome food, but by this point the foxes were so desperate that they spared the crow from becoming food. they made a deal with the crow: the crow would guide them to the village, but under the condition that he'd remain in the jaws of one of the parents so he cant fly away should he be lying. surprisingly, the crow agreed, as he hopped into the jaws of the father.

   on the way there, the crow told the fox family about these strange creatures. according to the crow, they seemingly "came from the stars", and they too came to this world looking for a place to call home. these creatures were small enough to ride on the backs of turkeys, farmed rabbits like sheep, ate dandelions and bugs for lunch, and would hunt a single elk to feed an entire village for a whole month. they managed to save miles worth of woodlands, leaving a space for wildlife (and in turn prey) to take refuge while the rest of the woods healed. the crow explained that these creature wielded weapon, but as long as you don't attack them, they wont attack you.    the foxes were still suspicious and skeptical, but they continued to follow the crows direction. the crow told them of the various obstacles that would be in their way; he'd tell them the safer shortcuts, and if there weren't safer shortcuts, he'd tell them the best way to get past the obstacles. all the while, he told them to keep following the river; the river leads to the valley.

   eventually, they reached the very mountains with a valley on the other side. and to the foxes shock, there was indeed a valley on the other side, with woodlands and a village right in the middle. the crow was finally released from the father's jaws, as they followed the crow to the village.    of course it still was winter, so the valley had yet to turn green with grass and leaves. however, even as they drew closer to the village, they could smell the food. eventually, however, they reached the village. as they begin to finally set up a den near a fallen log, the crow flew off into the village and brought back table scraps. it might not have been the tastiest, but having been struggling to find food for weeks on end during winter, they were more than grateful for some kind of nourishment.

   for a while, the followed the crow's rules when it came to hunting within the village; hunt at night, only eat vermin and food scraps, and don't attack the creatures and the animals they kept. however, as winter turned to spring, and springs to summer, something special began to happen.    the creatures began to feed the foxes themselves. it started when the mother was tossed af piece of jackrabbit, to which she cautiously took. however, as another family of grey foxes entered the village to set out home, these "humans" would continue to feed the foxes. eventually, however, the foxes had gotten used to being fed by them. even as the spring and summer ruled around, many of the foxes continued to be fed by the human since it was almost a guaranteed food source.    and eventually, they began to befriend the humans. they would end up working with and protecting each other; foxes would herd rabbits, hunt game, and keep their new owners safe from "smaller" predators. in turn, the humans would take care of them, play with them, and keep them safe from the larger predators.

and yeah, that's the folktale on how gray foxes became treehounds. didn't expect it to go on for that long, but then again i have way too much time on my hands, so why not...

[kidmachinate]

Fearless?

As I look back at my last few posts, one thing is painfully obvious outside of reflecting on it consistently already. This has been an exhausting year. How can I put some kind of positive spin on this? Because I still have at least crumbs put away and am not homeless? Been able to provide a living for both myself and my partner even though some of our roughest times yet? The fact that I'm even still here? Maybe a combination of all these things. But I do have another thought...

I titled this appropriately for a couple of reasons. The question mark is because I'm not certain I believe my own thoughts at times as of late. I also decided to make a reference to a band/recent concert, which was nice to hear but vision was kinda limited. Even moments of fun come littered with issues this year. So what is the thought? The thought is a consistent theme I've had in which something bad will happen and I just develop thick skin and march into scenarios like it fearless. What do I have to lose, right? In my mind I've lost it all. Maybe just my mind. I think that last statement is more accurate. Really though, among the chaos, I am fortunate for a few different things. I am fortunate to have escaped a mental prison (even if only temporarily) I put myself in due to work politics. I am currently fortunate to not have given up now being in the same position again about ten months or so later. I am fortunate to have friends that I occasionally see and have good times with. I am fortunate to have a partner that is perfectly capable of having heart of gold, despite mental stigmas that say otherwise. I am fortunate to have two great online friends as well.

This was supposed to be a light amongst the darkness post. Right on the spot, after saving this to finish another day, I find out my livelyhood is stripped from me. After almost losing our place to live that could just happen anyway after being blindsided at work with a lack of. So, I'm on the hunt again. I should be affected more by this but am running in with a crazy semi-fearless nothing to lose attitude and hopefully this leads to my solution. I've debated not wanting to be here a few times this year and still am. I suppose I should be fortunate for that as well.

I'm fortunate for my still living mother and our collective cats. This may be where the list stops? Everytime bad crap happens, I find a way to bounce back and care less and less about injustices or transgressions against me. Not everyone or everything is bad...and even in a state where right are not stacked in our favor, I'm gonna find a way. I will admit however, this time around, I'm scared. Vulnerable even. I was fully ready for something like this the first time I stood up for myself since last September employment wise. Not so much now.

Someway, somehow, I've got this. I have to. I have no choice. There is no other way...but I'ma forget about it over the weekend.

[togrowoldinv]

Feel Better

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha is always there for you when you are sick

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, general sickness (but it’s not gross I promise)

Note: To the dinner and movie popcorn that betrayed me, at least I found a way to make a cute story out of your unkindness. It’s 4am and I’ve been up sick for an hour, so please enjoy this fic of Nat being the best.

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The first time it happened you hadn’t been together with Nat very long at all. You were coming up upon two months of dating. And you knew she was amazing, but that one night solidified for you that you were falling in love with her.

It was about three o’clock in the morning when you woke up shaking and feeling extremely sick to your stomach. The kind of sick that you knew wasn’t just going to go away on its own.

Nat had stayed at your place last night after you went to dinner and a movie. You did your best not to wake her up as you rolled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

After a few minutes, when your nausea almost came to a point of release, you heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh- I just need a minute,” you said, fighting back tears from the aches you were feeling. Mother Nature took over and soon you were sick just as you knew you would be.

Natasha listened closely and as she knew you had finished, at least temporarily, being sick she slowly opened the bathroom door.

“Hey,” she said. You were sitting against the wall probably looking as miserable as you felt. She moved quickly to get you a wet washcloth and a little bit of water for your throat. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” you said sheepishly. You hadn’t wanted her to see you like this, but you had to admit the washcloth was helping and you surprisingly really wanted her company in that moment.

“Of course. Do you feel better now?” Nat asked you.

“Yeah, I’m in that pure state of godliness that you feel right after throwing up when you are sick,” you replied and Natasha laughed so hard that she almost was giggling.

“I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” she said, trying to stop herself.

“No, it is. A little bit at least,” you laughed a little too, as much as your body would let you.

You stood up and decided to try and lay back in bed again. Nat put a comforting hand on your back and helped you get back to bed.

“I’m sorry about this Natasha. Definitely not how I expected this night to go,” you said as you laid back down, keeping distance from her in case you were contagious.

“Don’t apologize, detka. I’m sorry you’re sick, but don’t worry I’ll take good care of you,” Nat said. “Come here,” she opened her arms for you and as much as you you wanted to fling yourself into them, you didn’t want to get her sick and you felt gross.

“I shouldn’t, Nat. I might get you sick and I’m not cute right now,” you said.

“Oh, please,” Natasha said. She moved closer to you and wrapped her arms around you. You felt instantly better, even if it was just a placebo.

“I won’t get sick and so what if I do? At least it was from helping you feel better. And you’re cute always, y/n. Don’t even think any different for a second, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Nat,” you said, snuggling into her.

“You’re welcome, detka. I promise to always hold you when you’re sick,” Natasha said.

“I’m falling in love with you,” you whispered as she held you close.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” she said.

And you knew she had to mean it. At possibly the worst you’d ever felt physically, she made you feel on top of the world with her words and her arms around you.

And anytime since then she’s been there to hold you as you’re sick and remind you that she loves you.

Even now five years into your relationship, Natasha Romanoff is still always there to save the day.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @nataliaromanova-widow @romanoffscottage @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @b0r3d-s1mp1ng-b1tch @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @sammi1642 @itsyourgirlmalise @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @blackwidow-3

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[thesolferino]

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!” 

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.” 

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?” 

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.” 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet? 

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend. 

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes. 

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you. 

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?” 

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed. 

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up. 

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks. 

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought. 

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him. 

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in. 

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him. 

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well. 

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you. 

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend. 

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?” 

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister. 

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!” 

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you. 

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out. 

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him. 

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else. 

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though? 

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place. 

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room. 

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home. 

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls” 

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right” 

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait. 

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend. 

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin. 

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones. 

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?! 

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown. 

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream. 

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway. 

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive. 

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it. 

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people. 

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?” 

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?” 

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.” 

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.” 

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should. 

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well. 

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.” 

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.” 

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good. 

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good. 

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you. 

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you. 

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. 

“What?” 

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it. 

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty. 

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it. 

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was. 

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it. 

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning. 

“Kiss me.” 

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.” 

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good. 

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes. 

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad. 

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

[oopsierosie]

Hello! I saw your requests are open and I was looking for someone to write some kny kyojuro x reader fluff since the last months have been hard. Maybe kyojuro confesses to his crush in a cute way? It's only my second time for a request here on tumblr so I'm sorry if something is off. Thank you so much for your time and take care.

A/N: Of course love! And no, your request is perfectly fine but my writing is eh- well, not up to shape. You can tell by the nearly half a year of procrastination. I apologize of the very long delay my dear!! As well as the shitty writing. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!! Warning(s): None really. Shitty writing, bad grammar, unedited work

~~~

Kyojuro remembers the very first time he met you. He could barely move a muscle as he laid under the cherry blossom trees, watching the soft pink petals fall all around him. The last thing he could remember was the near fatal fight with Akaza. Was he in heaven now? No.

It didn’t seem to be so majestic as he thought heaven would’ve been. Slowly, he tried to sit up but all he felt was a gentle hand pushing him, guiding him to lay back down on the ground. Opening his good eye, he turned to see who had been the one to do so only to be met with a beautiful woman looming over him – a worried expression adorned her ethereal countenance.

“Do not worry, I’m here to help you.”

Such an angelic voice – far suitable for such a beautiful person. All Kyojuro could do was comply and laid there as he allowed her to tend to his injuries.

She had saved his life that faithful day. If it wasn’t for her medical skills, he would’ve bled out and die while waiting for assistance from the demon slayer corps. From then on, Kyojuro often showed his affections and gratitude towards her, despite her just brushing it off as being a basic humanitarian. And that, in fact, she should be the one thanking him for saving them.

Their friendship began to bloom soon after and Kyojuro learned many things about her. How her mother used to be a demon slayer that developed a healing technique that could rival a demon’s but only temporarily. Her mother had created a technique called Revival breathing – which sadly, was no longer practiced by other demon slayers as it was the weakest. He also learned how she enjoyed sushi with only a smidge of wasabi and the way she preferred her tea. Before long, he realized that he had began to fall for the young woman.

He made a promise to himself that he would confess to you on the first day of the new year under the cherry blossom tree you both frequently meet under.

Which was what lead you to his predicament.

You held your kimono up slightly, running down the stone path that led to the lone Sakura tree. Soon, you spotted the familiar flame-like hair and white with flame ends haori swaying gently in the wind. The hashira was faced away from you, arms crossed across his toned chest as he seemed to stare into the distance, deep in thought.

You slowed down and began to catch your breath, straightening your kimono and fixing your hair. You too, had developed a small crush on the eccentric hashira. But, being soft spoken and gentle as you were, you didn’t dare to initiate anything for fear of rejection. Once you’re satisfied with how you look, you began to approach the hashira, calling his name so as to not startle him with your sudden appearance.

“Kyo~”

The hashira hummed, turning towards her as his usual smile was plastered across his face. While on the exterior he seemed calm, he could feel his heart racing at the sight of her. The way her hair flowed gently in the wind as the kimono hugged her figure comfortably. He turned his frame towards her and took a deep breath.

“Y/n.”

His voice steadied as a warm blush spread across your cheeks, not used to the sudden calmness that overtook his usual cheery tone.

“Why did you call me here? Did something happen?”

“No not at all dear. Everything is alright.” The hashira began, taking another deep breath before looking into her eyes with a sudden seriousness. “But there has been something on my mind.”

The young woman nodded patiently. She took a step forward and reached for his hand, holding it gently as a form of reassurance. He smiled appreciatively, reflecting the smile she wore herself. The nervousness grew rapidly in his chest but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t do it right now.

“I wish to court you, Y/n.” he began, cheeks staining red as he confessed. “Ever since we’ve met, I always noticed how beautiful and radiant you are. Like a lone flame beaconing in the darkest nights. We’ve grown as friends, the best of them actually. But, I want to grow as something more with you. The flames of passion dance in my heart, and I want it to spread to the corners of my being with you by my side.”

You stood there in shocked, mouth slightly agaped at his heartfelt confession. Never once did the lively hashira shared such a serious and intimate moment aside from the battlefield. He clutched both your hands and brought it close to his heart.

“That is, if you allow me to my dear.”

There was a shimmer of hope in his bright eyes as they stared down at you with intensity and adoration, begging you’d accept his confession. With a bright smile, you brought your hand up to cup his warm cheek, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes.

“Of course, Kyo.”

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. 

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, 

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, 

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo. 

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets. 

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much. 

He always held it down. 

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan. 

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to. 

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it. 

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons. 

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler. 

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours. 

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short. 

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family. 

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family. 

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again. 

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down. 

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized. 

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders. 

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now. 

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips. 

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead. 

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body. 

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly. 

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?” 

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior. 

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling. 

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously. 

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin. 

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here. 

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends. 

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date. 

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did. 

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home. 

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him. 

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.” 

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine. 

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue. 

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away. 

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution. 

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate. 

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.” 

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t. 

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that. 

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that. 

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him. 

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor. 

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy. 

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon. 

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here. 

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I  was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip. 

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy. 

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious. 

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+  +  +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

 “Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies. 

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely. 

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

 +  + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past. 

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone. 

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe. 

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible. 

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible. 

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all. 

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right?  At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom. 

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters. 

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror. 

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels. 

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

 She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades. 

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight. 

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.  

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use. 

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

 She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

 At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes. 

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted.  Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.  

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad. 

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act. 

 It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her. 

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier.  The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI. 

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk. 

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing. 

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

 When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof. 

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.  

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

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