#I'm so sorry for the way this is going to get filtered due to these messy tags haha

[olive-riggzey]

Temenos Mistral who? I only know

Tenebris Mistel

(Look I've been playing Triangle Strategy again to take a break from final-boss grinding in OCTOPATH II and yeah. This. This just made me laugh and now I'm making another stupid post.)

[e77y]

Procrastinating so hard even though this is a fun topic about my embarrassing old interest... It's literally an excuse to infodump WHY am I procrastinating 😭

[yxngbxkkie]

girl dad 🎀 (b.c)

i had seen a tik tok with chan and the twins, and how he's a girl dad 🥹 so, i had come up with this idea 🫢 i hope you guys like it 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

~

You've been sitting in your car for twenty minutes, trying to get yourself to stop crying. One hand covers your mouth, quieting your sobs while the other gently rubs your tiny baby bump. You're fourteen weeks pregnant, and you just found out what you and Chan are having.

Your phone vibrates in your vehicle's cup holder, seeing Chan's name on the screen. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath before answering his call.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, smiling to yourself.

“Hi, my baby,” Chan's voice makes your heart flutter. “Have you made it to the studio yet? How did the appointment go? I'm sorry I couldn't go with you.”

You giggle and lean back against the seat, turning your head to look out the window. “It's okay, baby. I forgot you had a schedule this morning. It went well. I have another sonogram photo to show you,” you inform him on how it went, leaving out the part where you learned whether your baby’s a girl or a boy.

“That's good. I can't wait to see our bean,” he giggles into the receiver, making you giggle as well. “We're just about to start filming, so I wanted to let you know that you're free to come in. I gave your name to security.”

You turn your vehicle off, feeling yourself calmer after talking to your boyfriend. “Okay, baby. I just pulled in, so I'll be there in a few. I love you,” you smooch.

“I love you so much. As soon as I have a free moment, I'm kissing you,” he mentions, having missed his morning kisses due to both of you being busy.

You're walking towards the building, and you shake your head. “I'm not going to complain,” you laugh, bidding him goodbye.

You slip your phone into your back pocket, giving the guard your name. He lets you in without any trouble, thankfully, and you make your way towards the room they're recording in.

When you finally reach the place Chan and Felix are in, you notice that they've already started recording. You look through the window of the door, seeing your boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the floor with the twins in his lap.

Tears pool in your eyes as you gently rub your belly, thinking of how it'll be when she's born. “Is this what parent life will look like?” You ask no one in particular, taking a quick glance down at your barely noticeable bump.

You chew on your lip as you walk into the room, the squeals of the girls reaching your ears. Chan's eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you fondly.

You wave at him before crossing your arms over your chest. Felix and Chan's manager grabs a chair for you to sit in, knowing that you're pregnant. You thank Skijigi quietly and take a seat.

The recording didn't last much longer, the two boys having a snack with the twins before they headed out. You stay in your seat when Chan walks over to you, greeting you with a kiss.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, noticing the redness around your eyes. His fingertips gently stroke your skin, a frown etching onto his lips.

“I can't get anything past you, can I?” You chuckle, shaking your head. Chan shakes his head as well, looking around to see the staff slowly filtering out. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”

Your hand grabs his, intertwining your fingers together before squeezing his hand. “The baby's okay?” He asks, stroking the back of your hand.

“Yes, absolutely,” you tell him, standing up from your chair. You bring your conjoined hands to your stomach, letting him feel your bump. “She is doing fantastic.”

His head snaps up, a gasp leaving his plump lips. “She? We're having a girl?” Chan whispers, his hands moving to your waist. “Are we really having a baby girl?”

Tears pool in both of your eyes, and you nod your head, confirming. “We're gonna have a little girl,” you cry out, laughing as you do. “You're going to be such a wonderful girl dad.”

Your fingers stroke his cheek, smiling up at him as you wipe his tears. Chan's lip quivers, bringing you into his chest. “I can't believe we're gonna have a girl,” he sniffles, gliding his hands on your lower back. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You pull back enough to look at him, smiling softly. “I hope she has your smile and dimples,” you giggle, leaning on your toes to kiss his lips.

“I can't wait to tell the kids,” he laughs, pressing chaste kisses on your lips. “They were so convinced that we'll have a boy.”

You burst out laughing, combing your fingers through his hair. “Let's go prove them wrong,” you wink, pulling away from him completely. Chan swiftly grabs your hand as the two of you walk out of the room together.

“After we tell them you want to get dinner?” He asks, kissing the back of your conjoined hands.

Your heart flutters in your chest, nodding your head, yes. “I'd love to, baby,” you grin, leaning your head on his arm. “I love you.”

Chan kisses your head and squeezes your hand. “I love you, baby.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[frogchiro]

Dear Kin,

Do you think Nikto makes his sweet nurse wear a blindfold during sex? He doesn't want her seeing his face and being grossed out :((

Also... what kind of dirty talk would this man say during coitus? Pre-coitus? Post-coitus?

I also HC him as having some very very very deep mommy issues because of his upbringing (he's not gonna show it please my boobs in his mouth)

This is me, a slavic girl writing about a disgusting slavic man bc yeah and I love this :(( I hoarded this ask just bc I love this so much so I'm sorry to keep you waiting nonnie ;;

Honestly? Nikto is the type to dirty talk all the time and it's so out of pocket he'll leave you like???

Nikto is a...specific man; he's deeply troubled and traumatised with more issues than fingers but on the other hand he's a absolutely nasty and perverted man with absolutely no filter, that of course includes dirty talk. Likes to randomly get close to you and growl in that low gravely voice about how he wants to cum all over you, make you walk all day with his thick sperm on your skin so he knows that even if you're out of the house you're still marked as his.

I like to think that Nikto's dirty talk is based mostly on the idea of ownership and possession. Due to his mommy issues (and daddy issues too tbh because I imagine his father leaving when he was young but old enough to remember and then he had to suffer his mother's wrath because she blamed him as the cause why his father left since he was an 'oops baby') he has the almost pathological need to keep 'his' things, that includes people too, as close as he can and hates sharing.

But yes, Nikto is also someone who, simply put, is a boobs in my mouth guy😭 He adores the idea of you all soft and pregnant with his baby and although he doesn't necessary wants the baby part (he believes he's too old and scarred to give you a baby) he still is obsessed with you being all heavy and dependent on him; just the knowledge that he was the cause of it, that he was the one who helped making the cub kicking in your belly and tying you to him in the most primal way just gets him going like nothing else </3

[xcrust]

Paint the Town Red [PREVIEW]

I seriously haven't written due to having an education but for my story i want to give you improvement and quality content. So I am not making you all wait too long here is a preview of the next chapter. If there is anything that you feel is needed and note you would want to offer then i would love for you to throw it my way

FULL STORY HERE

All the latest chapters and previous is at that link!!!

Looking between the mirror in front of you, reflecting In the soft glow of dawn's embrace, (Y/n) stood before the ornate mirror that adorned her room. The morning sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a warm radiance upon them as they examined her reflection. It wasn't the typical admiration one might associate with vanity; rather, it was an introspective gaze that transcended the surface.

As they lifted a lock of hair, the sunlight or rather the glimmer caught the subtle highlights, reminiscent of the glimmers of hope that had guided them through the darkest nights. The relationship between their parents isn't inherently bad. But the isolating feeling never evolved or made anything better. This dark world was something that was all you knew. Inherently when it came to your view of humans it had to be a little different from your older sister. All humans are made corrupt. No matter the family a person is raised from. Though what allows hell borns to be condemned to whatever flock shows up. It is a harsh ideal but with so much bad coming from earth then how could someone even have a belief that earth is all that good when it's corrupting the supposed bad.

Nevertheless the people that showed up from earth kept the seven rings entertained the more time went on. In fact if it weren't for earth then you wouldn't be in the situation that you are now. You couldn't remember the last time you had dinner with your parents, Family dinners hadn't been a thing in a long time. So sitting across a little table of a cafe with the infamous radio demon for dinner is the last thing that would have been imagined in your life.

“So my dearest! I want to know everything about you and what makes you tick” Closing your new pocket mirror you glance at him before going to pick at your clothes,  the bunny painted in red stares at you with a charming look in his eye. 

“Alastor, you're going all out for a person like me. But what is it that you want.” curiosity might have killed the cat but in hell its survival of the fittest. Between you and him, that's an easy feat for you but survival in getting higher in the food chain? Well that's some grounds you need to work on. 

“ Heavens me, or should I say hells me? HA can't a guy get to know another fella?” His burgundy pinstripe suit made your weakness to elegant things. In your heart you are truly someone that cannot be so easily deterred by another. If leaving the Morningstar household didnt prove it. Maybe working on social skills might be the first thing to work on. 

“Who are you kidding? What?! Did you want to talk to my dad? Sorry to best your bubble but i'm making a nam-”

“Hush now” he quipped in “now what are you assuming on today” taking out a pocket watch from his top pocket. The ticking being comically loud. Being in hell should have you used to an odd face every once in a while. But looking at him felt like a lost cartoon. “As ive said before, i know nothing about you. You've just got a nifty little… look to you”  There goes his smile again. It's so shameless.

“Yeah right” Being hell royalty should've put your name towards everyone that walks this street. 

“Sorry doll face, having such a smooth face in this area of town might just be the most interesting piece of plot in these parts” you let out a sudden hitch in your breath. Does he actually not know anything about you? Maybe the overlord title might be a lot harder than intended. “Now doll you're never fully dressed without a smile, now play nice” The grimace on your face might’ve just drowned in your thoughts hearing him say that. 

You couldn't make sense of his statement. An earthborn being known to you and probably the purest kind of entertainment in hell. Though if he didnt even know who you were then maybe this could be a better opportunity in the end. No phony respect. Something that would actually make a difference to yourself. Smoothing your expression into soft passiveness. 

“Say there, bunny tail, how about you and I take a stroll down the boulevard and paint the town red” 

 “Aren't you a tough nut to crack? Well who am I to deny a bona fide high roller”

[allysunny]

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

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

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

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

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

Words: 15.8k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, he was enthralled.

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

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

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

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

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

""Your money back?"

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

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

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

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

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

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

You only seemed to get better by the second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"After you."

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

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

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

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

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

You pondered your options.

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

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

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

And Bruce loved it.

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

But above all, he loved you,

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

Alfred was very fond of you too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

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

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

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

"Just get on with it."

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

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

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

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

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did my best.” Was his response.

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

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

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

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

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

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

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

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

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

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

“You bumped into me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

How did he know about him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

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

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

That had been close.

Too close.

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

That was too close.

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

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

“He knew who I am.”

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

“Did he now?”

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

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

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

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

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

What was he going to do?

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

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

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

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

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

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

You couldn’t.

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

He tried hard to think of what to do.

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

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

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

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

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

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

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

“Yes, Miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was for your own good.

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

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

You were quick to move aside.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

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

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

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

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

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

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

You sneered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

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

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

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

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

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

But all of that was over now.

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

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

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

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

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

In his head, this was the only solution.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

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

He’d lost you, sure.

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

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

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

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

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

At first, Bruce was terrified.

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

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

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

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

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

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

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

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

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

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

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

But he was left with nothing.

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

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

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

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

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

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

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

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

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

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

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

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

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

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

And what he saw stole his breath away.

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

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

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was as if the whole world faded away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

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

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

He needed you back.

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

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

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

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

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

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

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

"Please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tomorrow is fine."

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

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

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

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

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

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

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

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

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

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think we can manage."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, do sit down."

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

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

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

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

Still home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sneer.

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

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

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

"I ran into Crane."

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

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

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

Your face was pale with worry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

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

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

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

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Is the child mine?"

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

"You have no right to ask that."

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

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

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

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

"Him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

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

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

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened.

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

You looked away at the ground.

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

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

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

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You replied in kind.

"Please."

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

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

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

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

"I love you." You spoke.

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

You smiled.

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

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

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

You'd finally found each other again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bitterie-sweetie]

Heyyy! If you’re open for requests, there’s this TikTok that I saw where a pregnant lady had her husband lift her heavy belly for a few minutes and it gave her some relief. I somehow could see Mingyu do that. His wife having a hard time getting used to her growth and him trying his best to help her 🫠🫠🫠

baby ⇢ mingyu x reader, 1k, fluff, domestic au ⇢ warnings: pregnancy, "baby" as a term of endearment, mingyu being his usually sweet self (mostly), established relationship

"This is all your fault, you know."

At the sharp tone of your words, Mingyu looks up from his phone. 

"This," you gesture at yourself, at the unmistakable way your stomach now protrudes, a little larger each day as time creeps closer to your due date. "This baby is already huge and we're not even halfway there. It's all your fault, Kim Mingyu. You and your—your stupidly big bones and your long limbs and your giant frame and, and—" 

It's another empty complaint, that's all. Lately that's been much of what comes out of your mouth the moment your sore feet touch the floor, having to support your new weight, and when you're rushing to the bathroom again after just having left it. And when you hear Mingyu's mom lament about how heavy he was at birth, you don't even want to think about how the next few months are going to go. 

This pregnancy is both a blessing and a curse.

You get up from your chair, eager to crawl into bed and let sleep magically melt away your problems if it comes at all tonight. But before you can take a single step, Mingyu is there. It takes him two steps to cross the room and come to your side, and while he usually wears a big smile whenever he looks your way, now it's been completely replaced with a frown. A solemn expression.

"I'm sorry, baby," he says softly, gingerly pulling you into a hug. 

"W-what? What are you apologizing for?"

"All of it."

You take a step back and try to wiggle out of his arms so you can properly read his expression. "Hey, I was just joking—"

"Y/N," he says, shaking his head as he loosens his arms, "it's hard going through all this alone. You know I would help if I could." 

He's being genuine—that much you can see, but that makes you all the more concerned. Is there something going on? What does he mean? So much of your attention has been focused on preparing for the baby ever since finding out the good news that you hardly had a moment to stop and consider his feelings in all of this, and for a second your heart drops at the thought that there might be something wrong. 

Mingyu's never been one to hide anything though. He always wears his heart on his sleeve and speaks without a filter—which is only a bad thing when he showers you with overly cheesy compliments—and even now, one look in his eyes tells you exactly what you want to know. You can see the excitement floating in his eyes, the absolute adoration at the start of this new chapter in your lives, the nerves of being a parent for the first time. 

But also mixed in there is a ton of guilt. 

While none of it is his fault, you can tell that he's feeling the immense guilt of watching you suffer to bring a child into this world while he is, well, still very much his regular self. 

"Mingyu, you are helping. You've been doing all the cooking and running around to get me whatever I'm craving, which has been a lot these days. You set up the baby's room all on your own, and then there are your massages—I'm going to get so used to having this luxury that I'll be asking for them even after all this." 

His frown only deepens. "Baby, that's not enough. I hate seeing you in pain and being unable to do anything about it. I wish I could take it from you." 

"Hey, look at me." You heave a sigh, reaching to take his face between your hands. "I'm fine, Mingyu. You know how strong I am, right? I can handle it. In fact, you should worry more about what this kid might do in the future."

"Knowing the two of us, that's probably true." He wavers for a second before a smile starts to creep onto his face, but he holds it back, almost shyly. "Y/N, can I try something?"

"Like what?"

Mingyu steps closer until the space between you diminishes, leaving only your belly pressed against his. Then in one motion, he takes his hands and carefully places them under your belly, and then lifts. 

"Does this help at all?" he asks, face gleaming with tentative hope.

You slowly relax into his hands and take notice of how everything shifts. The weight pressing on your bladder is alleviated immediately, and your sore lower back feels much better. Even your feet aren't quite as in pain as before. "Yeah, actually. This helps a lot. Thank you, baby." 

"Good. Then I'll do this for you all day." Then he nuzzles even closer to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around him as much as you can. There's still too much space between you with the baby in the way, but when you close your eyes and listen to the sound of Mingyu's steady breaths, it's enough to spread a warmth in your heart that takes you back to the early days of your relationship. 

"Hey, Y/N?" Mingyu pulls back slightly to look at you.

"Hmm?"

"Do you really think we should be worrying about how our kid might turn out? What they might be like?" 

You study him, looking beyond the spark of anxiety in his eyes. "Well, yeah, but they'll be fine. Trust me, if they have your genes, they'll basically be perfect already. You were a perfect kid." 

"I guess I kind of was." He stays still for a moment, but when he meets your eyes again, there's a mischievous smile threatening to creep across his lips. "Yeah, see, I wasn't exactly worried that the kid might turn out like me." 

"Hey, Kim Mingyu!"

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Time makes strangers of us all (dp x dc)

It was a mild night. They were way pasts sweater weather, what with summer fast approaching but the air was still pleasantly cool as the sun went down. Jazz liked that about the late spring months, no more allergies but the smell of summer in the air. It was a quiet night in Amity. It wasn't quite so rare as it had been a few years ago but it was still something the people here knew to be grateful for. At least most of them.

Jazz sighed as she walked through the darkening streets. The sky was turning a beautiful dark blue colour, and here and there street lamps were lighting up. She'd gone long enough to have reached the park that was nearby and she started down the road that followed its edge. Her eyes settled on the illuminated scenes of people going about their evening. With the lack of natural light, the warm glow that shined through the windows made it all the more visible. As she walked within view of a large stone house with its balcony door open, she could hear piano notes filtering through the quiet night. Jazz slowed down as she passed in front, maximizing her time within earshot of the peaceful music.

She could see someone washing the dishes in one house, and a couple sitting on the couch in another. Some windows, she didn't see anyone, but the warm light indicated a soul was awake somewhere in the house. Jazz didn't wish that warm light was hers, at least not anymore. Leaving Amity Park for college had given her something like perspective, and coming back after two years left her with complicated feelings.

Tonight, it seemed nostalgia was the most prominent one. She reached the end of the street which brought her face to face with the river. She used to catch fireflies with Danny near here and she wondered if there were still some around. With a smile, she started on the path following the riverside as the first stars started to come out.

It was truly a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky, Danny would've loved to go stargazing. It was almost a shame he had stayed back at their apartment near campus. He'd said he had a big assignment due and had begged off the trip. Jazz could understand. She had made the same kinds of excuses for two years to avoid coming here.

Danny would come around one day. He would realize, as she did, that the life they'd left behind wasn't waiting here in Amity Park. It wasn't waiting anywhere anymore because it no longer existed. Their old house was sold, the inventions, the portal, long dismantled. There were no more ghosts in Amity Park except the ones Jazz had come here to lay to rest. From the corner of her eyes she caught something moving. She turned her head to see one lone firefly sitting on a leaf of the willow tree that was growing on the bank. Jazz smiled as she crouched to get a better view of the small insect. As she looked at its antenna that were gently swaying in the wind, she caught herself wishing Danny had come with her after all if only to reminisce together.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and Jazz jumped a feet in the air. She turned around quickly. In front of her was a man, looking about the same age as she was. He was about the same size as her as well, maybe a bit shorter, though his shoulder width more than made up for it. His face showed surprise at having surprised her so badly.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking awkwardly apologetic, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," Jazz said as she willed her heartbeat to slow down to its normal speed.

"My bike broke down," he explained as he gestured behind him towards the highway in the distance. "I was wondering if you knew the closest mechanic around?"

Jazz winced. "Sal's is definitely closed by now," she answered.

The guy sighed wearily. "I figured," he said. "Do you know someplace I could crash for the night?"

"Amity's Bed and Breakfast is close by," Jazz offered. "I can show you if you'd like?"

"That'd be great," said the guy as his shoulders slumped a little.

Jazz nodded before stepping back on the river path fully. Like that, she had a better view of the highway coming into town and the big Welcome sign that proclaimed Amity Park was "a nice place to live". With a last nostalgic thought before she let the peace of the evening disperse fully, Jazz let a small smile stretch her lips. It really was a nice place now, the golden sky after the storm.

"My name's Jazz," she started as she turned her back on the road in the distance.

"I'm Jason," the guy said as he followed after her.

Yeah, thought Jazz as they retraced back her steps from earlier that night, her days of running around chasing the undead were truly and completely over.

It was smooth sailing for her from here on out.

[butterflydm]

wheel of time s2!! 2x1-2x3: first impressions

Just watched the first three episodes and jotting down my thoughts before I finally remove my filters and read other people's thoughts. <3

I'm sure I missed a bunch, but I'll be rewatch the next couple of days.

There will be mild book spoilers in the sense that I'll talk about differences and pacing and whatnot, but only through book 2, The Great Hunt.

Okay, okay okay okay. I was surprised by so many things, even with the teasers and trailers!

I just feel so hyped and thrilled and I hope that everyone else loved that as much as I did, wow.

I don't even know where to start!

I was NOT expecting the Seanchan to be introduced so quickly! Holy shit! Uno is DEAD! And in such a nasty way. That was such a bold introduction to the Seanchan. And now Perrin is split off on his own with Elyas and the wolves. I loved the talk that he and Ishamael had and it really set up a reason for Perrin to worry about the wolf inside him too.

My girl Elayne! She was very sweet. I'm looking forward to her getting to know Nynaeve in the upcoming episodes. I am sorry for @markantonys's sake that we still have not heard anything about her brothers, though!

Egwene and Nynaeve getting very different Tower experience overall. Liandrin taking Nynaeve under her wing seemed... sincere? We still don't entirely know her situation.

Nynaeve's journeys through the arches made me cry! I'm just... it was a lot, I feel very emotional.

@markantonys was right that they made Verin and Adelas sisters and it worked really well. That whole plotline with them and Moiraine and Lan was very interesting and surprising. So Moiraine has the info about Toman Head.

Mat's plotline! Mat and Min being captives together, except that Min is working for Liandrin (on a promise to be left along by Aes Sedai? Moiraine's methods backfiring on her) so Liandrin's eyes are on Mat even though she's pretending to let him leave. I am fascinated by this plotline (is she going to lead him to Falme? is she going to lead him to Cairhien?) I also wonder if part of the reason she's willing to betray him is due to that viewing she had of Mat stabbing Rand (which was, again, fascinating!). Mat almost talking to Egwene was heartbreaking, thanks!

And my boy Rand!!!! He's trying to find his own mentors (first Errol with learning sword forms and then trying to get Logain to teach him). And everything that Selene said was just... amazingly double-sided. Being with you helps me remember the man I was in love with indeed, lol! (also, um, given that that last sex scene with Selene was a dream of Rand's, apparently he kinda wants someone to call him 'my lord' during sex so, that's interesting -- also, dream!Rand had Selene's number better than awake!Rand)

I love that we got to see the EF5 being connected in their hearts even when they were separated from each other.

Oh, man, I'm just so overwhelmed. Will definitely be doing a deeper dive on all these episodes this weekend!

!!!!

[melissa-kenobi]

Moon Knight Headcanons

Quirks/Traits

A/N: hollaaaa again, ah so due to high demand, I just smushed all the requests into one and tadaa here ya go! Also I'm super sorry, my jake ones always turn out smutty :'( #sorrynotsorry

Translations - (I used Google Translate, I'm so sorry if its wrong!)

"¡Mentirosa! ¡Mi amor, se suponía que debías hacerlo!" - Liar, my love you were supposed to do it!

"Vamos cariño, sabes que se verá bien. Imagina mi cara en tu dulce-" - Come on sweetheart, you know it will look good. Imagine my face on your sweet-

"Sabes que se sentirá bien. ¿Por favor bebé? Te daré lo que quieras." - You know it will feel good. Please baby? I'll give you whatever you want.

"Si mami, te voy a hacer desear nunca haber dicho eso." - Yes mami, I'm going to make you wish you never said that.

Steven Grant

Steven definitely has a few. Some you adored on him, but some were a slight pain in the arse for you.

Firstly he had such high levels of enthusiasm for anything, and I mean anything. Like you could be telling him that your flowers grew and then one of them died cause you drowned it by accident and Steven would be like "Wow! No way! But I mean at least the others survived so you can look after them too. And of course love, before you even ask, I'm happy to help you!"

Then he'd plunge himself into the story of Gus and how Marc had killed him and bought Gus 2.0 to replace him.

You've noticed Steven has a habit of playing with his sleeve, it's adorable you think. At first you thought it was something he did when he was feeling self conscious about his appearance- to which you undoubtedly reassured him that he looked handsome and stunning causing the poor man to blush and stammer out a soft 'thank you love'.

But after being with with for a few months, you realised it wasn't, it was just a cute habit he had. Like he'd be sitting there, on the couch reading his book with one hand, the other will be fiddling with his sleeves. Or when the two of you are waiting on lunch at the cafe and he'd be holding your hands but his fingers would be fiddling with his jumper.

Another thing you’ve noticed with Steven is his ability to nickname literally everything. If you're out on a date with him, the two if you like to take a stroll along the River Thames and Steven would just be watching the people, giving them all sorts of nicknames. Like this man has no filter, he just blurts out what he sees and sometimes you'll have to hold your laugh in and tug him away before they catch you.

He snores. Like deeply and loudly. Steven would deny it all he wants but when you're staying over, you have to bring your ear muffs because that man snores like hell.

"I do not snore love!"

"Steven honey-

Steven would cut you right off. His hands crossed against his body in defiance, his cute face turned into a frown. "Nope."

"Okay then. Do me a favour and tell me who this is?" *cue obnoxiously loud snoring sounds and occasionally a few grunts.*

Steven's face would contort in disbelief, his eyes already recognising who was in the bed next to you. His arm wrapped around your body as he watched himself snore like shit. "That's Marc. I refuse to accept it."

Marc Spector

Now with Marc, you've noticed that he tends to hint at things he wants rather than outwardly state them. Unlike Jake who will straight up tell you what he needs/wants. Steven's a little shy but he gets it out eventually but Marc, no, he just hints it randomly.

Like if he's hungry for cookies let's say, he'll be talking about the cookie monster, or this thing that reminded him of cookies. Or if he wants some cuddles with you, he'll just stare at you before rubbing his arms together, hoping that you'll notice and give him what he wants.

"Babe?"

"Yeah honey?" He'd look over to you in the kitchen, making some of Jake's coffee before you'd walk over to him.

"You know you can ask me for snuggles right? I adore them with you!"

Marc would blush like a fucking teenager before pulling you to cuddle between his legs on the couch. He'd bury his blushing face into the crook of your neck before he'd whisper. "I know baby. Thank you."

Marc snorts when he laughs. Like really snorts. You know them ones where they don't even realise they're doing it till you give them the look? Yeah that's Marc.

Sometimes the boys will throw a joke around in headspace and then you'll have Marc laughing while he unintentionally throws in a snort. Now you and the boys know about his habit and have tried to help him with it but you genuinely cannot. So anytime Marc laughs, you can't help but join in.

Marc is a total neat freak. Naturally you're a messy person, but you think you've gotten better at it but Marc completely disagrees. It's the clothes strung around his flat, the mugs of tea/coffee left in the sink. Don't even get him started on your own home.

Like he cannot stand your messiness, and he'll happily call you out on it. "Babe, I love you, but you're a complete slob."

"Am not."

"Are too! Have you seen the kitchen?" It would be Marc teasing you relentlessly for the next half hour.

"Jake was supposed to do it!"

"¡Mentirosa! ¡Mi amor, se suponía que debías hacerlo!"

Jake Lockley*

Dios mío, Jake is charismatic as fuck and practically convince anyone to whatever he want. Including you. Which is something you absolutely hate, but secretly love because it's Jake, duhhh.. Although at the same time, he can be so goddamn unpredictable. Like one minute he'll be cuddling with you, watching those telenovas he loves before he gets up randomly and tugs you with him.

"Mi amor, let's go..."

"Go where Jakey? I was so comfy." You move into the warmth he left behind, cuddling the pillow he was sat next to. Jake would have that smirk on his face, the one that told you he was up to something and there was no way you were going to get him to back down from it.

"I wanna fuck you in my car cariño..."

Jake likes to cook for you. He absolutely loves watching you eat his food, the way your face lights up and the way his heart swells up inside. The noises you make when you take that first bite, fuck- it does something to Jake that he can't explain but he want more of it. So whenever he has time, he's always in the kitchen cooking for the two of you.

Now this one was one you fucking loved. Jake always spoke in Spanish to you, and boy did it make your heart race. among other places 😏.

He never does it with Marc and Steven, unless he's angry then he'll let the occasional word slip here and there but with you, it's like 24/7. Now you're a potato, and you barely know Spanish (sorry for those that do). When you first met him, he had a half English, half Spanish thing going on so you could understand him and fuck was it hot. Now Jake just speaks in fluent Spanish with you, and do not ask how, but you somehow can understand.

The mustache. Need I say more? He's been pleading with the boys and you to let them grow one out. Jake is honestly all for it, Marc is a definite no- he doesn't want to walk around looking like a pedo. Steven's on the bench about this so that leaves the vote up to you.

"Vamos cariño, sabes que se verá bien. Imagina mi cara en tu dulce-

"Jake!"

That goddamn smile returned once more on his face, that annoyoing one where he knew he was going to get what he wanted and you couldn't stop him. He inched closer, lips teasing your neck, so you could imagine the feel of it agaisnt you. "Sabes que se sentirá bien. ¿Por favor bebé? Te daré lo que quieras."

"Okay okay! Fine. One week. If we don't like it, you're getting rid of it, ¿comprendido?" Jake would smile in glee, giving the finger to Marc before wrapping his arms around your waist, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom.

"Si mami, te voy a hacer desear nunca haber dicho eso."

Bonus

Khonshu being an annoying shit and turning up whenever he wants. Like at really bad times.

Khonshu is extremely judgemental, like really badly. Ironic really considering what he preaches.

He is so fucking impatient, he acts like a 5 year old sometimes and he's such a pain in yours and the boys arse.

An awful liar.

[sophieinwonderland]

People in Trump supporting areas who grew up impoverished are part of the same systemic issue. This is a controversial opinion, but they are worthy of compassion just like anyone else. They are a product of their circumstances and an intentionally awful education system intended to keep them from thinking critically so that they can be easily controlled and manipulated. Are there exceptions? Of course. But the exceptions are outliers due to the good luck of a higher IQ and/or loving and compassionate parenting and/or coming into other ideas at the right points of their development. It doesn’t mean we have to agree with them or tolerate their views. But we don’t have to hate them or be intolerant of the person themselves for those views. They’re mixed up and confused and likely grew up knowing only hate. More division is not what the world needs.

That anon said nothing about hating endo systems or being intolerant of them. They said this is why people with trauma histories might become upset when linking plurality as a whole to DID caused by trauma. They did not say endos therefore need to hide or shouldn’t exist. It is possible to be inclusive of both sides. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. You are putting words in their mouth by talking of hate as a way to further ostracize the viewpoint from your audience.

It’s disappointing and sad how unwilling you seem to hear other perspectives that don’t fully match yours. Granted, you’re not alone in that.

The internet is full of all these filter bubbles and it’s so very isolating and depressing.

Best of luck.

It's not being unwilling to hear it. It's just "a lot of sysmeds are sysmeds because bad things happened to them" isn't some brand new revelation to me.

The question is... what do you do with that information?

Actually changing the mind of just a single person so deeply embedded in bigotry requires a monumental effort and time investment that can feel akin to cult deprogramming. Except cult deprogramming only happens when you get someone away from said cult, while sysmeds will still be very embedded in their communities, and changing their minds can mean them losing long-time friendships. They are socially incentivized to not change their point of view.

Should knowing the cause change anything about how I behave towards them?

I mean, I'm already not someone going around harassing people. I'm not sending hate to their inboxes. I'm not throwing around profanities and slurs. I don't even call people stupid... even though some of their takes are so brain-rot-inducing as to make me want to rip our hair out.

I'm firmly against that sort of behavior because I find it counterproductive.

So what does this view actually change?

It is possible to be inclusive of both sides.

It's not.

Sorry.

You can't be tolerant to the intolerant.

Being inclusive to sysmeds gives them the opportunity to spread system medicalism. Maybe you can change their minds over a long period of time, but maybe they come into your spaces, spread toxicity, and even indoctrinate impressionable people with their hate.

Ideas can spread like viruses, and I think hate should be treated as a viral infection. At least when it's small enough to be effectively quarantined.

Moreover, a space that's inclusive towards sysmeds can't be a safe space for their victims.

This, for the most part, isn't personal. It's not about punishing people for being bad. It's just about ensuring their ideas can't spread further and harm others.

That anon said nothing about hating endo systems or being intolerant of them. They said this is why people with trauma histories might become upset when linking plurality as a whole to DID caused by trauma.

What they're referring to, specifically, is honestly a bit unclear. It was about why people with DID are "upset about plurality." And there are a lot of ways the can be interpreted. Although I don't think it's a leap to say that the "hurt people hurt people" line was alluding to people who actively attack and/or harass endogenic and pro-endo systems.

I didn't get the impression that it was about linking plurality to DID, but rather the plurality itself.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Matty Healy Blurb

Author's Note: This was the ending that I mentioned would be the blurb with my last imagine. Just one Matty Healy being cute and not being able to contain his love for you during an interview! Enjoy! I'm about to enter Ross territory, see you all on the other side! x

Warnings: Swearing if you all need that!

Matty Imagine

1.4K Words

Whilst the boys were in between records and tours; you and Matty had managed to get away with being together without your relationship being sniffed out by the fans. Your presence in their world as a whole had seemed to have gone undetected, this was probably due to the nature of the pandemic and being locked in your homes. But upon reflection was the best thing that could have happened to you both. It meant you could reacquaint yourselves without your every move being watched by the world.

I think the band appreciated the fact you weren’t in the industry because it came with no drama. George claimed the fact you could fight your way out of anything due to your job gave you the level headedness that came with dating someone like Matty. “Sometimes he needs putting in his place!”  You believe the words out of George’s mouth.

But now the boys were gearing up to to release their fifth record Being Funny in a Funny Language and Matty was doing more and more interviews and you were all left in the position of ‘what the fuck is going to say today?’ But that was the fun of being apart of his life. No day was the same as the last.

You were at work in an important meeting when your phone kept buzzing at the opposite side of your desk. Apologising to your client, you turned your phone on silent and threw it in your draw. Out of sight, out of mind. Whatever it was could wait until you had finished work or the very least once everything regarding your current client was done.

When you finally pulled your phone out of your desk drawer to order lunch to your office, you saw the group chat with the band going off, you also had messages from Ross, Carly and  Matty. What the absolute flying fuck was happening that they were all sending messages at the same time.

Opening Carly’s message first. ‘Your world is going to change in the blink of an eye babe. I’m here whenever you need someone x’ Your eyebrows furrowed as you opened the screenshot and caught sight of the headline.

‘MATTY HEALY’S ZANE LOWE INTERVIEW GOES VIRAL AFTER SINGER CONFESSES HIS NEW RECORD IS ABOUT HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND. OR SHOULD WE SAY OLD GIRLFRIEND!’

What the fuck! You hadn’t discussed going public per say and you didn’t know if you had it in you to open his messages at the moment. So you bypassed the multiple messages in the group chat and opened Ross’ first. ‘No filter Healy strikes again! Don’t go online yet love. Just let it die down before you try navigate that shit. Trust me. Text me if you need me for anything x’

Fucking hell, if Ross the least social member of the band is advising you to not go online, that meant the fans were going absolutely mental. Their rockstar had become unavailable and that meant I was public enemy number one. ‘Is it socially acceptable to have a glass of wine at 1pm on a Tuesday afternoon whilst at work? Asking for a friend? X’ You replied to him before finally opening your boyfriend’s messages.

'I’m so sorry baby!’ 

‘You know what I’m like, I have no filter when I’m excited about stuff!

And Zane pointed out how happy this new record was and I just…'

'I want to shout from the rooftop how much I love you’

‘Because I do. I love you so fucking much!’

‘I also may have told him all of our best loved songs are about you.’

‘Fuck! I know I overshared. Please don’t hate me xxxxx.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at the last couple of messages. What was he on about? Yeah sure, you had figured out the wedding in Menswear was about the wedding you both met at and If You’re too Shy was about when he’d call you every night whilst on the 2019 US tour. So what did that even mean? All our best loved songs are about you/?

Texting Carly back, you thanked her for looking out for you and asked if she knew the time stamp for when all of this went down. When you got your response, you opened up YouTube on your laptop and skipped straight to this so called viral moment.

“I must say this new record, there are a lot of love songs on here. You seem happy. Are you happy?”  Zane asked, a warm smile etched on his face as they sat in a cafe you had ventured to many a time whilst you lived up North.

“I am mate. Never been happier!”  He grinned back at the radio host.

“They’re all about your girl, yeah?”

“They are.” Matty had the audacity to look shy as he confirmed it. “This new record is basically my love letter to her. I’m in Love with You, Happiness, Oh Caroline, All I need to Hear, When We Are Together… About you.” He gestured to Zane when he remembered. “She’s the love of my life. My muse.” He shrugged casually like that wasn’t heart tuggingly cute.

“Now you mentioned previously that About You was almost a continuation of your hit Robbers. Surely they’re not the about the same person?”

“It is actually!” Matty laughed at Zane’s shocked face. “Funny you say that and she’s going to kill me when she hears this because I’ve never actually told her this but almost all of the band’s most loved songs are about her. Robbers, The City, Menswear, Somebody Else, If You’re too Shy. They’re all about my girl.”

You paused the video for a moment, your eyes glossing over as you tried to process this information. The City made sense buthe’d had girls since you, girls he was with longer than you that you were positive Somebody Else was about. There had to be, there were years between when he would have wrote that and when you broke up. You’d had never made that connection but your composure was quickly diminishing as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks. Your entire will power being tested so you didn’t sob loudly in your office as you thought about how heartbroken Matty really was over you, that it hurt him just as much as it did you.

But Robbers. When the boys finally released their long awaited (in your eyes anyway) self titled debut album. Even though it hurt to know you’d never see them again to congratulate them, how little did you know. When you heard Robbers for the first time, yeah it was beautiful but when the video came out, you just assumed it was about the characters of True Romance and his love for the cult classic. Not once did you put two and two together and realise it was about your rapidly failing relationship.

When you finally had the courage, you pressed play again.

“Shit man! Robbers and About You, really are the same girl? And Somebody Else, damn! She most be one special lady!”

“Yeah, she is! We dated before the band. You know me, love me some drugs and we used to fight about it all the time. Then I didn’t see her for seven years and she went on to bigger and better things. She’s a hot shot lawyer like the smartest person I know. Smarter than me and the band put together! But yeah, I thought about her a lot during our time apart and then fate brought us together again. Or at least Hann did, he bumped into her as we were on the way to an event back in 2019. I don’t think I’ve ever been speechless mate but I knew. I knew that I wanted her back if my life depended on it the moment I clapped eyes on her again. Eighteen months later, she’s still letting me love her and you’re getting our best record yet! So you’re welcome!” He finished with a giggle.

You paused the video again. A shaky breath leaving you as you tried to get oxygen back in your lungs, the temptation to just cry at how much you fucking loved this man. This completely ridiculous, irritatingly talented man. You could sit here and be mad about it but what’s the point. It’s not his fault, anything negative that finds its way to you wasn’t on him, but the person sat behind the keyboard and with that knowledge settling you knew you couldn’t ever be mad for sharing that he loved you with his mate.

You finally text him back.

‘You are the biggest pain in my ass Healy! You’re lucky you’re cute!’

‘I love you so fucking much!’

‘But we are definitely talking about Robbers and Somebody Else when I’m home!’

[stiffyck]

To defend the previous anon (even though I'm not sure to call it that lol)

I kind of agree with both you and the other anon, if you don't wanna see spam reblogs then you can unfollow, however, one could maybe tag reblogs? "stiff-reblogs" or something, for example. (People that get annoyed or something can block it that way!!!!) (Of course, not gonna force anybody to do anything!!!!)

Also, if people follow an artist, they tend to want to see more of their art and support them, so it'd be a little unfortunate to see someone go due to spam reblogs, especially when they like the art that's being posted.

I hope this helps both sides, please nobody feel offended :'D

tagging the spam reblogs defeats the whole point of spam reblogs: theyre a fast way for me to get my excitement out of my system. i spam reblog if i see something i really like and its supposed to be FAST.

tagging spam reblogs will do absolutely nothing because youll STILL SEE THE SPAM! the way tumblr works is that it still puts the filtered stuff on your dash, it just gives you a warning and a chance to click or not click and see the post! you will still see the spam

just unfollow me and go through my art tag every once in a while if youre here for art. idk.

last thing im saying on this. i have it in my pinned post that i dont wanna hear stuff about my spam reblogs.

also sorry if my response comes off as mean, its not meant to.

[pacificaisstillpacifica]

OC Interview

I was tagged by @ouroboros-hideout to do this interview for the Notorious BGB. Due to her secretive nature and general paranoia, she's not inclined to answer certain questions, so there will be some commentary.

Name?

"Who's askin' and why?"

*Legally named Baby Girl Benítez, BGB has guarded this embarrassing secret by using over 20 different aliases via forged documents. Only 3 people in the NC area know her real name.

Nickname?

"Again, depends on who's askin'. I go by 'V' in Night City. ...Why? Pfff, I'unno. Sounded cool, I guess."

*It's taken from one of her earliest aliases, Verónica.

Gender?

"None of your biz."

*Female; She/They

Star Sign?

"Scorpio."

Height?

"Again, why are you askin'? You FIA or somethin'?"

*She is 5'5.

Orientation?

"I know what I like when I see it and that ain't nobody's biz but mine."

*A true bisexual disaster.

Nationality/Ethnicity?

"See, now I KNOW you're FIA. Well, you can go and tell Rosalind that we are done, that it was nice getting to play James Bond but ain't no way in hell I'm joining her gonk lil'—... Oh, you're just trying to get to know me? *sigh* Fuck, choom... Sorry, I've had a weird coupl'a years. I'm workin' on it. Can we start over?"

*A stateless nomad via the Blood Nation's Gargoyles pack; Afro-Latina of Puerto Rican and Haitian descent.

Fave Fruit?

"Haven't had real fruit in forever. Closest I've had in years have been those Leeloo Beans. But, I'm gonna say mango. Yeah. Reminds me of my old family."

Fave Season?

"That's a hard one. Kinda like and hate somethin' about each of 'em."

Fave Flower?

"Plants aren't really my area of expertise, but there's something about wildflowers I really like. Remember growin' up, the fam was on this maglev construction gig down I-40. Late summer, just barely early fall. And there's nothin' but this vast stretch of highway for miles and miles, and ghost towns that got wiped by the wasting epidemic. But there were these little red and yellow flowers, just dotting the sun-scorched grass. Never knew what kind they were, but through all thst decay and destruction I remember thinkin' they were the prettiest flowers I'd ever seen."

Fave Scent?

"Coffee in the morning. Grapefruit rinds. A nice cologne. I love that shit. Just a splash though. I had... let's say, an 'ex' who I swear would marinate in it. That's not why they're an ex, but... yeah, didn't really help their case."

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate?

"Depends on what time of day it is and what I'm doing. Coffee in the morning without a doubt. With the sock method, café cola'o like my abuela used to do it, of course. If it's the afternoon, I like a nice cup of Oolong. And for cold nights, hot chocolate. Spiked with spiced rum."

Average Hours of Sleep?

*The "sock method refers to a cloth mesh filter attached to a round wire frame with a handle. It's reusable but winds up looking like a dirty sock, hence the nickname "la media" (P.R. Spanish for "the sock/stocking") No actual socks are involved.

"Again with the weird questions. What are ya, my ripperdoc? ...You sure you're not FIA?"

*Averages about 6 hours of sleep.

Dog or Cat Person?

"Don't really have a preference. They're both great. Cats are great to chill on the couch with and dogs are fun to take on roadtrips. But I guess if you get an RV, you can do both."

Dream Trip?

"I'unno. Spent so much of my life traveling and moving that taking a trip doesn't seem as exciting to me. The Crystal Palace seems interesting, but is it enough to make me get on a tin can of a shuttle?"

Number of Blankets?

"If it's hot, then just a flat sheet with no blanket. If it's cold enough, then two. A knit one and a fleece one."

Random Fact?

"I fell off the scoop bucket of an excavator when I was 9. It was afterhours on the site and I got bored. Anyway, wound up shattering my left arm. Still kinda aches when it rains."

[edream93]

I think it's time...(WLTF Outline)

So, for my Descendants folks, I'm sorry to say that I think it's time to call it. Though I know exactly how I want the story to go, I've unfortunately lost a lot of motivation for "We'll Light the Fuse" and most of my other unfinished Descendants stories.

Post D2, being part of the fandom, especially the Huma/Sea Three Side of things was so inspiring. I vibed with a great group of mutuals and for the first time I engaged in a fandom outside of just being an observer. I'm not sure exactly what I'm trying to say, but I just want to thank my readers and other Descendants mutuals. Y'all unknowingly go me through a pretty rough time in my life. I hope you're all doing well ❤️

Anyway, I said I would give an outline of how I wanted WLTF to go. If you use any substantial bits, please reference me and also let me know! I'm not doing much writing but I'm still reading!

Neverland Arc/Hooked Intermission Arc:

Uma, Mal, and the others run into Tiger Peony and the remaining Lost Children who have hidden in an underground bunker away from Pan. Tiger Peony let them know that the spell that kept Pan asleep was broken due to the blood of Hook.

--- Long story short (and this would have been told throughout the arc, not just in one scene), Neverland always needs AT LEAST a Pan and a Hook to keep the island alive and thriving. The Pan (and technically the Captain Hook) that we see in this story is just the latest one. It's kind of one of those things where technically each Pan is unique in their own way but in the end all of their collective memories and experiences come together. When King Adam and the rest of the heroes got rid of/reduced the use of magic, it caused a magical blockage for Neverland as one of the few sources of pure magic in Auradon. It also was causing the current Pan to lose himself in thoughts and memories, like he would just space out. Sometimes he would forget entire conversations or days. It was shortly after Tiger Lily became leader of Neverland that people started noticing changes in Pan. Playing less. Spending time alone. Voice getting deeper...the Boy Who is Never Supposed to Grow Up getting...older... Around that time, the island was dying and the fairies were dying out. The Isle is Pan and Pan is the Isle. The Council of Magic (more on them soon) decided it was best to put Pan to sleep to halt his aging and to also naturally unblock some of the magical build up that he was unintentionally causing due to his unexplained growth.

---Not everyone was happy with it, especially those of Neverland but it was a time where unity was needed and Neverland, a historical site was dying (due to King Adam's decision to get rid of magic but no one really wanted to talk about that) so it was an agreed upon decision. Pan was put to sleep by the Council of Magic led by Fairy Godmother and Yen Sid, his loyal and faithful fairy Tinker Bell sealed away because they feared that she would find some way to wake him up. All very humane...Not.

---What people didn't realize, except for maybe Tiger Lily and her people is that Neverland is not inherently a Good place. It's also not inherently a Bad place. It's neutral, and with everything in life, has its good and bad. With Pan being asleep and Hook held prisoner under the barrier, there were no filters for the magic to go through and though it may have seemed like the magic was once again settling, it was actually building up dangerously. As stated before, Neverland always has a Pan and it always has a Hook. Even with Pan asleep, the delicate balance was skewed and magic will always find a way to get balance back, whether its outcomes are liked or not.

Anyway, back in the current timeline, Tiger Peony tells the Auradon gang that Neverland is forcing balance once again but unfortunately, the years of being asleep as well with his deteriorating mind has warped Pan. He has killed her mother and has put most of the island under his control. Tiger Peony was able to get most of the Lost Children (the kids who live in Neverland) into the underground bunkers under the hollowed old tree of Pixie Hollow the no longer spills out pixie dust. Since the Neverland fairies have long ago disappeared (around the same time Pan was put to sleep and Tinker Bell was sealed away) beneath Pixie Hollow has been turned into a disaster station.

Tiger Peony is grieving her mother and her home and angry for ever trusting CJ and thinking that she could be better than her father. She tells Mal that she did her duty and got High King Ben and Royal Counselor Evie back. Uma quickly notices that Harry, Carlos, Sammy Smee, and Big Murph are not present. Tiger Peony's make shift lieutenants (who were supposed to be heavily implied to to be either be the descendants of or were actually the three kids from the Nightmare Before Christmas - more of a world building addition/head nod than actual important part of the story) report that they thought the remaining boys were the few Lost Children under Pan's control.

Obviously Uma and Mal are not happy.

Across the Isle, Pan is not happy. He woke up to find Evie gone (there's a reason he's so obsessed with her) and CJ lost the Boy King (Ben). Thankfully he still has his Hook (Harry.

CJ is slowly starting to realize that maybe she isn't on the same page as Pan. She wants to be great and make a name for herself but Pan seems to be ordering her around worst than her siblings did on the Isle.

Harry tries to talk sense into her one last time but Pan (because he's connected to the island) realizes that the Auradon gang are now on the Isle and that causes CJ to get angry again at the thought of Uma and Mal coming in to ruin her fun and glory again.

Eventually, Uma, Mal, and the others find Pan. Pan tries to control Harry and make him his new Hook but Harry is so freaking devoted to Uma that despite having the blood of Hook (which basically means he's more susceptible to Neverland's influence), he easily breaks free of Pan's control like swatting a fly. (The power of simping compels him and all that jazz. I mean, there's an actual reason that'll be explained but that's what it comes down to basically, Harry's loyalty and devotion to Uma and vise versa.)

---"Why follow yer scrawny ass, when I have a goddess as a Captain?"

Obviously Pan is not happy and basically throws the world's biggest tantrum. The sky darkens, the waves rise high and crash violently against the shore as a storm begins to brew. Decides that if he can't have Harry as his Hook then he'll takeaway his thimble (aka kill Uma)

Back at Auradon, Audrey, Jane, and the left behind isle kids try to cover up for the others but Fairy Godmother and Mickey soon realize where they've gone.

Back in Neverland, though Pan may seem out-numbered, he has the Neverland mermaids and the Lost Children that he does have under his control. Basically a fight starts. Uma is trying to make sure she gets Harry, Gil, and the rest of the isle kids under her protection off this damn island but is struggling with her instincts which is to just destroy everything and take Harry and Gil away, somewhere safe.

In the midst of all of this chaos, Evie suddenly "knows" what to do to put Pan back to sleep and tells CJ that she's the only person who can help them do that.

At some point Mal turns into a dragon and goes rawr, flames, rawr trying to stop Pan.

Uma, while fighting Pan gets pushed into the water where all the Neverland mermaids are waiting to tear her to shreds. They pull her down into the murkey water and soon all that's seen is blood, rising from the depths.

The others try to fight Pan but he's too powerful.

Harry gets hurt. Like bad. Like might lose a hand bad.

Evie uses magic (her magic that smells likes roses - IT'S A CLUE that I've been sprinkling all throughout the written story so far as to what's going on with Evie and who Pan thinks she is), telling CJ that she's the only one who can stop Pan.

CJ blinks and suddenly she's alone and surrounded by darkness. With a far off light ahead. She walks and finds a fairy which she eventually realizes is Tinker Bell. -below is a scene I had typed up years ago because I loved it so much-

Silently, CJ watched Tinker Bell stroke the rusted surface of the thimble. 

“He was perfect. Made all up of starlight kisses and the wind’s laughter. Unwavering belief and the feeling of warm sand between your toes,” Tinker Bell smiled brokenly, her none-bent wing fluttering slightly. “My boy. My Peter Pan. Mine. My starlight asked me, so I gave him my heart.”

“The acorn,” CJ thought, heart lead in her chest.

She sank down to her knees before the fairy. She bit her lip, unsure of what to say. 

“But was it worth it? Was it worth the years stuck here? Broken? Trapped? How could you stand to be in a place like this all alone?”

A lone tear fell down the fairy’s cheek, but her smile never wavered. “Because he is my greatest happy thought. Even if he didn’t have my heart, I would shred my wings for him if it meant he would be happy.” Tinker Bell’s beautiful fae face twisted into something simultaneously cruel and longing. “That Wendy girl would never do that. Only me. Only Tink.” Her features smoothed out, and she looked at CJ with sudden new wonderment. “You understand...don’t you?”

The shadows around them shrieked and clawed, and CJ swore as the already small circle of light that surrounded them grew smaller. 

“Tinker Bell,” she desperately clasped the fairy’s hands, careful not to touch the almost tarnished thimble held so tenderly in Tink’s hands. “If you don’t help me, there won’t be a happy thought left of your darling Pan. And my brother-” CJ bit her lip, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to claw itself from her throat. 

She was a pirate, dammit! No time for tears! 

“I’m not good at this mushy feeling crap,” she chuckled wetly, thinking back to Harry, her idiotic, brash, overprotective, heart on his patched-sleeve brother. She wondered if she would ever see him again. If he would ever forgive her...“Probably should be the last person to talk about this, but,” CJ gripped Tink’s hands tighter, willing what little warmth was left in her into her hands, “holding out like this, keeping him in this limbo instead of letting him pass along, you’re not helping him. You’re hurting what little is left of your boy.” 

“NO!” Tinker Bell shook her head vehemently, trying to pull her hands away from CJ’s firm grip with little luck. “No. No. No. No. Nonononono. He’s mine. He’s mine! My Pan. My Peter. My-”

Tink froze in shock as CJ’s arms wrapped around her, careful of her broken wing, in an awkward but firm embrace. “It’s okay to let him go,” CJ whispered softly. “It doesn’t mean you stopped loving him. Doesn’t mean you failed. But sometimes...letting go is the best thing...because holding on tight, no matter what you intended...it’s just hurting him.”

The withering shadows and breathing darkness pressed further against the perimeter of the circle and CJ could nearly taste the smell of decay and rot and death at their backs.

“CJ?” Tink murmured, leaning into her embrace. “I’m...I’m so tired, CJ. So so tired…”

“Then sleep,” CJ whispered, holding the broken fairy in her arms. “Sleep and dream of your boy, made up of starlight and laughter and belief and the feeling of warm sand between your toes. Sleep, and when you wake up, it’ll be a whole new adventure waiting for you.”

The darkness was now licking at her skin, threatening to consume her until nothing was left. She would embrace it. It was what she deserved. 

Slowly, so slowly that CJ didn’t even notice as the darkness crept higher until the only light that remained was the dull thrum coming from the rusted thimble as Tinker Bell turned over her hand, letting the small item fall into CJ’s. 

“Laugh always. Have many adventures. Cry just as much in laughter than in fear. And...cherish your happy thoughts...even when you grow too big for them,” Tink blessed as she pressed a kiss, as soft as fluttering butterfly wings on CJ’s forehead, just as they and the darkness shattered, until all that was left was faith, trust, and pixie dust.

(Note: ) Somewhere in all of this chaos, I would explain, drop hints that CJ's mother (because the Hook siblings all have different mothers) was Zarina, a fairy like Tinker Bell that fell in love with Captain Hook and when all the villains were forced onto the Isle, she gave up her wings and became human to be with him. Obviously did not end up well for her. Hook was horrible to her and around the time she had CJ she was deathly ill. Not sure if all of that was going to be explained in the story or not but basically my idea was that even though Zarina looked like a human, she was still a Neverland fairy, and unlike other fairies like Maleficent, Neverland fairies have such a strong, almost symbiotic relationship with Neverland. Essentially she died because she was cut away from magic.

CJ appears back - now with wings and more fae like features - in Neverland with the thimble Tinker Bell gave her that basically would put Pan back to sleep. (Essentially, Tinker Bell gave Pan her heart to try to fight against the deterioration of his mind due to the magic restriction. It ties into the bigger idea of magic is not something you can control and in its own way is kind of it's own entity, but essentially the magic of Neverland fed off of that exchange in a toxic way.)

Around the same time, Uma emerges from the water in her giant Sea Witch form looking like a goddess, the bodies of the dead Neverland mermaids turning into sickly foam around her.

The wind picks up, thunder and lightning pick up, and with CJ, Mal, and Uma (and Mickey though they don't know it) working together they are able to beat Pan and put him back to sleep.

Mickey arrives on a slightly newer boat than the steamboat they stole from them, basically giving the Auradon gang a ride back to the dorms. He also has Baymax with him who Harry who is slightly woozing from blood loss is surprisingly happy to see.

CJ apologizes for all the trouble she caused and asks Tiger Peony if she can stay to help restore the island. With Pan back to sleep, she wants to make sure that the magic of the island is actually balanced and as someone with the blood of Hook, she can influence that balance more now that she's aware of it and now that Pan is back asleep. Though still grieving her mother, Tiger Peony agrees.

The arc ends with Uma, Mal and the others returning back to school, hoping that's the end of all the weirdness.

Other things that were supposed to happen in this arc that I couldn't figure out where to put in the above:

Sammy Smee and Big Murph die under Pan's control which though she wasn't close to them, causes a lot more greif than Uma initially expected because 1.) she was supposed to keep them safe and 2.) she sees how it impacts Hadie and Diego

Carlos is fine but he's left with feelings of helplessness. He felt like such a damsel in distress all throughout this experience and that's going to have impact later on in the story.

Jay starts displaying more latent magic.

I hadn't decided when exactly it was going to happen but either in this arc or towards the beginning of the next arc, it would be revealed that Evie is the Sorceress (also known as Circe) from Beauty and the Beast reincarnated. She reincarnates every few years to make sure she's always experiencing new things and not getting stuck in her ways like other people. coughcoughFairyGodmothercoughcough.

Also, the remaining parts of this arc would have probably been another 3 or 4 chapter depending on how I broke things up with one of the chapters being a last Hooked Intermission. This was supposed to be happening during the same time the others were fighting Pan.

---Basically a riot happens on the Isle starting over by the docks but quickly spreading. Right before that though, Harriet runs into Anthony's mother, Anastasia, who warns her she should go somewhere safe to protect the baby. Though she appreciates the concern from the only adult who seems to genuinely care about her (despite her being her ex's mom) Harriet, with the help of Gil's brothers, Jonas, and surprisingly Sophie (Yen Sid's assistant) - who is back on the main part of the isle after checking the generators that partially help maintain the barrier - try to stop it. Harriet quickly realizes that the riot was started by Hook who is acting strange, even for him, almost possessed. They sword fight on the Jolly Roger. Harriet gets hurt but before Hook can deal the final blow, Anthony pushes her out the way and takes the fatal blow. Anthony gets a line out about how he was never good for her before dying. Some has lit the gunpowder that's on the ship and Sophie pushes Harriet into the water before jumping in herself before the Jolly Roger explodes. It's unclear who survives but it's implied that briefly the barrier was down.

---Back at Hades's place, while all this happens, the god of the underworld is paid a visit. He seems to expect it, going to his hidden stash and asking the uninvited vistor if he would like some wine. He doesn't get a response back so decides to drain the bottle himself pittering around his home wistfully murmuring: "'She will be a child of the sea; Chained to fae land, godly blood made mortal. Death’s attendant will be kind to her, protect her before his last breath. A coat of blood red will follow in her wake. And when the second star has risen. Then the realm of the dead and the sea shall be hers . And then the throne of Zeus will be hers, bringing upon a pantheon anew.' Or something like that, right sweetheart?"

---Hades says a few more things, basically implying that even though he knows the person with him in the room is going to kill him, that he'll come back again in another form. Death always needs attending to after all and death is one of the few things that humans still fear, still give power to. The person kills him, and just before he dies, Hades smiles, pressing a trembling kiss to Peresephone's lips as she pulls the dagger from the place where his heart would be if he were truly mortal.

And...that's how the Neverland arc would end! I'll come back and write the outline for the final arc if that's something folks are interested in.

Sorry again that I can't actually commit to writing this all out but I do have some scenes here and there written out that I had been saving.

Let me know your thoughts! Did this arc go the way you expect it to?

Also, remember, you can use some of these ideas, just give me credit and share so I can read and give you all the likes and kudos!

Eternally grateful for all the support ❤️

[from-izzy]

things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

anon! this is such a fun ask! thank you so much for this one!! 😍

i'm doing the ones i've talked to enough (dm and/or on gcs) for me to (somewhat) answer this ask (sorry if i missed you or gave you something that doesn't suit you 😭) also limiting to fifteen (15) things or else we'll probably be here all day oop---

my obsession with alphabetical order strikes once again!!

honestly this became more of an appreciation post but 🥺

@astrae4

my child, cute round glasses, colourful heart shaped balloons and parties, 'i just go with the flow', energiser, miffy, light blue jeans, photobooths, wanderlust, 'paris! it's no longer just europe now', ice skating, falling gracefully despite being sick and swamped into 'sewer water' 😭, bakeries, caffeine in the form of daily matcha, doesn't like me as much as i thought she did

@cloverdaisies

black and white (with a splash of red), dynamic hair colour changes, black sleeveless satin dress, but also oversized monochromic shirts, a glass of wine one on hand, blurred pictures, mirror selfies with flash on, eyeliner wings, but also fruity and lovely, same age but so mature, 'guys it's due today and i haven't started', 'i knew you would come back with time' (🥺), juvenile, no emojis at all, sarcasm (not) detected most of the time (i'm gullible ok 😭)

@cupidjyu

my hyunjae bestie!!, bows and croquette, pink and white, picnic with flowers, toro inoue, spring breeze, texting and chatting during school times, 'i'm bored' (talking about class), thirteen-hour time zone difference (and my body clock makes it worse), 'sunwoo is cute!', but also 'hyunjae!', but also sleep >>> anything (including hyunjae 🙄), sexy brain (please gimme those braincells), going around in circles, 'why do you do this to yourself? sleep!'

@heemingyu

honey bee, distorted purple and white aesthetic, gilmore girls, late deep night talks, love and patience, three-leaf clover (shamrocks), the grinch filter, being a huge menace to society but still lovable so it's hard to really tell her off, in reality i love her more than she loves me, but i still give her silent treatment anyways, 'naur', economics and crying, missing the bus and then blaming it on me, black cat, izz instead of izzy 🥺

@justalildumpling

chaotic sibling energy, my no.1 bitch, casual night time walks, fearless, freedom, making videos during said walks, lovesick puppy, ohmyface by silichmasha on instagram, side eyes, selfies with a slightly tilted head, sometimes cutely gaped open mouth other times closed (either way it makes me wanna squish her cheeks most of the time), 'izzy i have tea! well...not really tea! actually no it's tea!', talking late into the night (well...the morning), sunlight and blue sky seeping into her blinds, 'come get unready with me!'

@littleroaes

pastel purple, pastel pink, pastel blue, basically fairy floss, innocence and beauty, supportive and real, very shy, long white dresses, flowers all around her dancing in the wind, but is also very funny, drawing reactions, sometimes talking in all caps, sometimes talking with lower caps, all the time very cute, sitting down at the beach and watching sunsets

@mosviqu

pink and white, scarfs and gloves, long-sleeved shirts paired with short skirts, long drives with dynamic playlists changes, and would ask her friends to go and make sure they have a great time, jamming out to a playlist at 3am (but she has a healthy sleep schedule so), that one friend who knows what to do, not afraid to express herself 99% of the time, the other 1% is just the world being mean, will always be a white cat, 'izzy i'm so proud of you', words of comfort, head pats!!, artistically talented, eric sohn's soulmate

@winterchimez

soulmates (but lives in the wrong country), ireland, loving mother vibes, but also tired mother vibes, sunrise vibes but specifically orange and yellow, hard worker, faith in god, quiet art museums but also bustling concert halls, turning bitterness in life into a lesson that can never be replaced and is always thankful for the opportunity even though the period of that life was hard, mental and physical resilience through crazy back to back schedules, videocalling on the bus/train on the way home, 'so/saur', my favourite purple jacket, music and piano are forever ally's vibe tbh, 'if i missed your call, i will always call you back'

@zzoguri

crying when seeing a friend, headphones all day every day, classy look, black top with light blue jeans, vintage camera film filter, journalism (it really does suit you), 'YEAH YEAH I GET YOU!', crying about uni (same tho 😭), gaming for hours, specifically valorant, my infj bestie, acoustic guitar vibes (ykwim?), 'you're so valid though', a distinct unique accent, jacob bae's partner