#draw her once and i am instantly cured

[stringcage]

i geta the art block i drawa the muse

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

[latenighttalking00]

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time writing, so apologies if it's a bit rough; English isn't my native language. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode 5 - The duel

Masterlist

Jack Dawkins x fem reader. Belle's older sister.

Once home from stealing the ambergris Jack dropped onto his bed, he knew he should grab some sleep whilst he still had night to do so but his mind was elsewhere. Lifting his hand up he looked at the back of it, the spot where you had patted him three days ago. He was sure he could still feel the softness of your fingers, as if they had burned into his flesh. There was something about you that he couldn't put his finger on. Your sister Fanny was simple, just as every Mayfair girl was supposed to be. Belle was a rebel, utterly fixed on her end goal, but you, oh you. You were utterly proper in every way, trusted by your parents entirely. In his eyes a proper lady, yet you were unwed long after it was expected for young women. Maybe it was the distinct lack of suitable men in the colony? Jack had heard Sneed talk of you a while ago, he was sure his colleague was not good enough for you.

Jack sat up again, dropping his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head. There was no way he could ever be anything but a friend to you. Still, perhaps you were already too far engrained into his mind, and somewhere else. He tried to convince himself he only had a professional interest in your condition.

*_*_*_*

"You've been moping ever since Dr. Dawkins ruined our dinner. Come on. Up!" Fanny grumbled at her sister pulling the blinds up at the window and letting the sun blast through the room.

"Close them now. Immediately." Belle grumbled.

"No, there'll be none of that." She huffed. You walked into the room and sat across from Belle

"Are you feeling any better?" Fanny asked you as she perched on the edge of the sofa.

"Yes, she's completely cured. Close the curtains." Belle quipped.

"I am well, Fanny, thank you." You reply with a sweet smile.

"I have a gift to lift your spirits." Fanny turned her attention back to Belle.

"A guillotine?" You giggle.

"Better. A painting made with these very hands. It's the story of us. Our journey here, a house, a kangaroo."

"What are these?" Belle asked finally sitting up

"Tree trunks. I keep seeing these in my dreams. I'm rather drawn to them." You glance over at the painting, your lips press together to stifle the laugh.

"So, there's no story of us. Fanny, we're as much prisoners here as we were in London society." Belle said. You tap her leg with your book.

" Dr. Sneed is here for you." Your mother says, walking into the room. Fanny Jumps up instantly happy.

"No not you, for Belle."

Belle groaned.

"Sister, come on now, Rainsford is a perfectly handsome man with good intentions. I'm sure of it." You say.

"Then why didn't you marry him?" She quips back at you.

"He wishes to take her shooting." Your mother interjects.

Belle sighed and stood, "This is an endless world of bogglingly-stupid dinner parties, men boasting all night, and pretending, somehow, against all evidence, they're cleverer than us." She groans

" They are. That is why they're in positions of power." Fanny bites.

"Fine. And stay at home all day, painting hideous scenes of trees."

"Belle!" You raise your voice at her

Lady Jane rushes to Fanny's side, "I'm sure she didn't mean to say those things, Fanny. She's not well, darling." You laugh.

"Would you draw the curtains, please?" Fanny says falling back on the lounge sofa.

You shake your book and head back to your room, it was cooler in there than the parlour and you were surrounded by your most favourite things.

Walking in you feel that pinch once more in your chest. Dizziness starts to take over your brain so you rush to pull your dress and corset from your body before lying down on your bed. These episodes were coming much more frequently these days.

An hour or so passed when Belle slammed into your room, rousing you from the sleep you had taken in your armchair.

"Marriage, he has proposed marriage!" She huffed.

"Well, you could do a lot worse. He has that money coming to him, I'm sure you could convince him to stay here if you wished it." You say.

Belle sat on the edge of your bed, curling her legs below her.

"But he is just so-" she screws up her face, "he gave me nutmeg instead of a ring."

"Belle, my sweet sister, he is a man, you can rule him and get whatever you want." You remind her and she grins at you before leaving again.

You rest your head back and look out at the gardens. "Y/n sweetheart," your mother walks in moments later and you sigh.

"Yes mother."

"You have been spending time at the hospital with your sister? What do you both do there?" She asks.

"we fold bandages and read to the patient's mother. Belle is never left alone with any of the doctors, though it seems Sneed has taken note of her. She may be married in months and you'll have only one disappointment for a child." You say.

"I wish only for you to marry, so you might have the joy of running your own home."

"And now I have the privilege of marrying a man who loves me and not worrying about our stations." You say and turn away from her. With a huff she leaves you.

Alone at last you read your book as the sun reaches it's highest point and slowly drifts down again. A beam of late afternoon sun makes your room glow. You weren't sure when day turned to night but the sun had gone making way for the moon to shine in its wake.

Your attention is caught by Fanny bringing in a silver tray and placing it on your table.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm not hungry, Fanny." You say not turning away from your book.

"Look, I've drawn you a picture." She shows you the painting with more porngraphic trees.

"Thank you. I will eat it cold." You offer to her. Seemingly satisfied with your answer she leaves once more. Just as the door closes you hear the creak of your balcony door opening.

"Hello." Jack said now standing in your bedroom.

" Have you completely lost all sense?" You ask standing from your chair.

Jack realises that you are in your night dress and has to stop himself from looking at you.

" Quite possibly."

"You should not be here, if you are found you'll be flogged, Please go." You keep looking to your door.

"Do you know about Strabismus surgery?" He asks.

"what? My sister would know better." You remind him.

"You don't know what it is?" He takes a step closer to you.

" It's the realignment of the eye." You announce.

" See? I knew you'd know. Would you happen to have some medical textbook that might..."

"Yes. Stay here. Actually, no. Come, I've got valuable items in here." You joke.

" You gonna eat this soup?" Jack picks up the bowl and spoon.

"No, apparently not." You laugh.

"What's that you're holding?" Jack looks at the painting.

"Apparently, a tree. This way." He gives you a knowing grin, raising one eyebrow. "Fanny needs to be married."

Jack enjoys the sound of your giggles. You show him down to our father's library happy that your parents were out for the evening. Jack follows watching you move so freely through the house. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the shape of your body as you reached up to check through the medical books.

"Ah, here we go." You flip open the book and start reading. "It was first performed in the 1830s by John Homer Dix. The surgeon needs only three instruments, a fine hook to elevate the conjunctiva, a bent probe to isolate the tendon, and scissors for opening up the conjunctiva."

"Pictures. I need pictures." Jack asks.

"Yes. Here." You turn the page and jump down to meet him att he desk, Jack slides closer to your shoulder to look at the pages.

"It is so dangerous." You whisper,

" Yeah, but you love that, don't you?" He smiles cockily. The look in his eyes catches your breath and you have to refocus your attention.

"Can you do it?"

"Yes. Maybe." You both look back at the book. Your eyes flick up to him.

"It's important for both of us that we clear the air about what transpired." You begin, "there were words between my sister and yourself, but that is not my concern."

"It is not?" He asks, face far too close to yours.

"Jack, you should know that I would be happy to read any word you may need." You hope he understands what you're trying to say.

"y/n, should it be in your voice I would listen to all the words written in the world." He whispers back to you.

" Doctor Dawkins," Belle stood in the door way, causing you both to jump back from each other, "I admit that I said things in that moment that I now regret. And I'm equally sure that you said things that now, in the cold light of day, you wish were..."

"What on earth is all the racket down there?" Fanny's voice cuts Belle off. You both step out into the hall, leaving Jack in the library.

"Are you feeling any better, sister?" Fanny asks seeing you.

"Yes, fine, much better."

"See, you eat, and you are well again. You've had eight turns this past month. I do count them." She calls down. Belle glances to you.

"I am fine, Fanny, Go to bed, sister." She turns and wanders away, "right we need to dress, Jack wait for us by the road." You order everyone.

"what is that awful smell?" You say walking into the hospital.

"Fagin." Jack replies too quickly.

"It smells like ambergris." You say.

"Like what?" He veins ignorance though in his mind he is impressed by your knowledge.

"Will you wait?" Belle stops you both. "Are you going to apologise to me or not?"

"No. What for?" He glanced between you both.

"For the way you spoke to me."

" I was hurt. And I'm sorry if I spoke to you abruptly." Jack replied. You gesture to Belle to go on to the theatre room and turn to Jack.

"I don't know how to talk to women. I've never really had to." He admits to you.

" I am similarly rarely interested in anything a man has to say. And she forgives you."

" Good. Though it isn't hers I long for." He steps closer to you. "Don't invite me to any more stupid dinner parties. Your lot will never accept me."

"Why would you want them to accept you? You have no idea how boring we all are." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Not all of you."

You feel his breath on your face and your mind whirls with wants you had never had before. Hatty clears her throat behind him and you both follow her into the room. You stand to the side and watch Jack and your sister work, occasionally speaking the words from the medical journal when needed.

At last the navigator is placed in the ward, a bandage across his eye. You turn to Jack,

"Do you think it worked?" You ask him.

"We won't know until we remove the bandages." He sighs.

"Belle go home, I'll be along shortly." You say to your sister, she nods and leaves. You follow Jack back the operating theatre to help him clean away the equipment.

"At Government House, I heard your sister say that this was your eighth attack. What did she mean by that?" He asks, you can see in the strained raise of chest that he had been wanting to ask for some time.

"She imagines things." You try to push away the question.

"y/n?" He tries again.

"What the navigator said, did that sound true for you?" You deflect his questions. He sighs but indulgies you.

"It was the greatest day of my life when I got promoted to sublieutenant. They gave me my own bed. I'd never had my own bed before. And my own room." The two of you sat down against the wall, shoulders touching.

"Must be wonderful to be at sea. Travel the world." You look into his eyes.

" It was. It was the best and the worst of times. I saw all kinds of things I didn't even think were possible. Wild animals and festivals. In Hong Kong, I saw this giant paper dragon with fifty people under it and as they moved, this dragon appeared to dance and breathe fire. It was quite amazing." When he finished talking he looked back to you and saw your eyes had closed, your breathing evened out. He sat beside you, arms resting on his knees and just looked at you. The thought of seeing you this way each night, being this close to you, if not closer danced around his mind. The scent of your soap drifting into his nose pulled him closer to you. Knowing this would likely be the closest he would ever be with you Jack settled himself back, bending his towards yours and closing his eyes.

*_*_*_*

"Lady y/n" Sneed's voice shook you both awake, you lift your head from Jack's shoulder. "I can scarce believe my eyes. I insist you return to Government House immediately and we will discuss this later." He shouts. You laugh

"If you wish to stay in your current role, Sneed you will not speak to me again." You point at him before storming from the room.

Having returned home you sit in the parlour with Belle and your parents. Gaines is talking over city ordinance and you are purposely ignoring them.

"The most exciting news. There is to be a duel in town." Fanny shouts excitedly as she came running in.

" Don't be silly, duels are illegal." Belle replies. "Not necessarily." Your father says absentmindedly.

"I rather think it might be over moi. It does eliminate one possible suitor, but what does one wear to a duel? Black is foreshadowing, but green?" Fanny muses

" Who is involved?" You ask.

"Sneed and Dawkins." She claps her hands. You and Belle look at each other and stand, immediately running to town. Belle went after Sneed who was walking down the street whilst you ran into the hospital. You shove open the theatre door where Jack is fiddling with a sword and Fagin talks to him.

"You idiot! You absolute dunderhead!" You shout, chest rising heavily below your corset.

"At last! Someone who sees what I see." Fagin laughs.

" What were you thinking?" You ask angrily. If he wasn't so angry at Sneed and frightened about the duel he might have been impressed by you.

"I am tired of being treated like some mangy dog." Jack bites at you.

"You are not a mangy dog." You lower your voice, "And he is an idiot for treating you like one. Apologise and withdraw. Please." You hold his free hand in hopes it would drive the thought into his mind.

"And bow down to his arrogance? No. And I'm not going to kill him, I will barely scratch the pompous git. Don't worry, I spent ten years in the Navy. I am a master with the sword." His arrogance grates you.

"Good. Because it is pistols, pistols at dawn. And he is a master shot." You say getting too close to him.

"Oh."

Fagin slips from the room.

"are you a good shot?" You ask.

Jack tilts his head to one side and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Well, I know which way to point it."

"You had best learn, swiftly. Or please withdraw." You ask again.

"Y/n, I can't-" you don't let him finish his sentence. Instead you storm out meeting Belle by the carriage.

"Any luck?" She asks and you shake your head.

"I might have one more idea" you say.

*_*_*_*

"Cease this immediately!" Your father bellows over the morning wind. Just in time to stop the two doctors from firing their pistols. "I'm told, rather unsportingly, that this town cannot survive without its two surgeons. Lower your weapons." He eyes you and Belle pointedly. "Now, the rules are very clear. In circumstances such as these, the seconds must assume their place." He finishes. You roll your eyes.

The men argue amongst themselves with all but your father and priest trying to stop it all. Finally they decided to continue. Fagin and Smales are given the pistols. You move yourself beside Jack as they take their ten steps. Your hand gripped his as the shot is fired. Neither man is hurt and you feel your breath come back to you. A voice cries out and you all realised Sneed had been hit in the leg.

He is rushed to the hospital and placed on the operating table. The morning crowd had already gathered in the stands and the Prof had downed his apron.

"What we have here, is a man injured in his quest for honour. He is also my Head Surgeon and will replace me in the future," he Sighs, "For this reason, it requires the steadiest of hands, as I attempt the very dangerous procedure of amputating his leg, a foot above the knee. Now, if you'll just bite down on this." A roll of leather is placed in Sneed's mouth but he spits it out, grabbing Jack's arm.

"Help me."

"Half an hour ago, you wanted to kill me. This does beg the question, "What would you do in my position?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"I will give you your job back. I guarantee it. Just please, don't let him amputate." He begged. Jack looked back at Belle who discreetly poured the either onto a cloth.

"Yes. Here, Prof, let me wipe your brow." She starts dabbing at his face before pressing the cloth to the Prof's nose and mouth. He keeps over.

" Apologies, gentlemen, there will be no show today. As you can see, the professor is overcome with emotion." Jack explains to the men.

"Later today, we'll be amputating Spencer Shaw's arm, which will be more exciting. Come back for that." Hetty added.

" Now, I assume you will be maintaining your strong stance against anaesthetic?" Jack laughs.

" Give it to me, damn you." Snned growls.

"Thank you, Hetty, I won't need you on this one. You can tend to the professor." Jack calls back to the nurse. She steps up to him.

"Three trained professionals are in this room. One is the patient, the other is me. And one is a complete fool."

"Yes. Quite possibly." He agrees, glancing over to you and Belle. "I'm sorry, I can't remember. Which leg am I cutting off again?" He says to his colleague on the table.

"Dawkins..."

" Surely, you're not removing his leg." Belle asks

" No. Just removing bullet, unfortunately."

" If it was me, I'd be shaving off his eyebrow." You say from the side of the room. Jack meets your eyes, scalpel in hand ready to operate. A new thought enters his mind and he hands it across to Belle, "You make the first incision." He says and walks toward you. Every step is calculated and he reaches you swiftly pulling you in by the waist, one hand cupping your jaw. Your breath catches as he presses his lips to yours. Belle shakes her head and begins the operation

Episode six

@fandomfan-102

[crystalelemental]

Sync Pair Retrospective - Sinnoh Elite Four

Exactly one year ago today, Aaron was released as the first of the glorious Sinnoh Elite Four.  And as a sucker for all things Sinnoh, I think it's time to talk about the intervening year this trio has had.

AARON Aaron came in with Vespiquen, an outcome I was not anticipating given Drapion. But hey, alts for later, am I right?  Haha, Variety Scouts.

Aaron came in as an Attack/Crit buffer, which is always super valuable.  The fun was in his secondary application as someone who buffed both defenses.  The reasonable limitation, then, was low healing potential.   He had one use of Heal Order, which was a Potion-style heal for himself, and a Mini Potion for his allies. There was a lot of questioning about Aaron's overall performance on arrival. Atk/Crit buffers are great, but competing with Hop as a free unit with superior healing, and Sonia as someone who did like 13 different things at once, kinda placed Aaron in an odd spot.  What exactly did he do better than his competition?

How about Precision Pals?  You know, that beautiful little skill that fixes every high-DPS low-accuracy issue available?  What if he just had that as part of his main buff?  What about Quick Cure and Natural Remedy to counteract status of all kinds?  What about Stalwart/Unbending to just block debuffs to his bulk? What about a glorious 50% flinch rate off his attack as a support?  All of this came together to significantly make Aaron stand out.  Back in this era, grid expansions hadn't been invented yet, which meant this guy?  This was the guy to draw if you liked Kris.  No one did it better.

Of course, grid expansions were made real, and most options with lower accuracy have those issues solved by their own kits.  Kris got Pinpoint Entry 2, and no longer required Aaron's services.  It seemed like his overall utility might dip a bit, just before realizing, oh wait, this dude is a monster in Gauntlet.  Defensive buffs, healing, high flinch rate, solves Atk/Crit needs for offense, and has just about every possible form of counterplay you could ask for?  Aaron's ridiculous.  He's outrageously good.  Even by CS standards, he maintains well.

But of course, there's a reason he's never stood out quite as much as Sonia. Having guaranteed heals with double MPR, Defense Crush 9, and comparable buffing but with more universally significant defense over accuracy really pushed Sonia over the edge.  Being able to paralyze in a pinch is also wildly significant for Gauntlet.  She's always been a sort of gold standard for Atk/Crit buffers that no one's quite kept up with.  But Aaron's still the best effort that's ever gone into it, and holds a unique niche as the only option to provide those same buffs, and accuracy.  It’s just that accuracy is not a sufficient niche half the time.

BERTHA I waited so long for Bertha to join this game, and she showed up exactly as I would've liked.  With Hippowdon.  And as a Tech option with Sandstorm, which I personally like.  Fun fact: I love field effects.  I was unapologetically in favor of Gen 5 weather wars, I love trying to control the field.  Anyway.

Bertha was instantly both underwhelming and one of the most significant additions out there.  Let's get this out of the way: prior to May 2022, Ground type damage was dead in the water.  You either had Maxie, or Ground-types sucked. Cynthia didn't have her expansions and was awful. Hapu and Clay had nothing, and no one was optimistic about later performance in the grid war.  Maxie was your only option, barring like...I guess Leon or SS Serena, who did well enough, but it's different when the sync isn't on-type, you know?  Enter Bertha, a general pool addition that offered a fantastic Ground-type sync nuke.   This?  This was new.  This should have been significant, and her best selling point.  If it wasn't for Kanto.

"But it's the Johto villain arc!" Giovanni is from Kanto!  No changing of the theme skills changes that they relegated a slot for Johto to a Kantonian!  Regardless, anyone familiar with the datamine took one look at the difference between Bertha, who was a bulky Tech nuke that needed offensive support to set up, and SS Giovanni, who had roughly eighty gagillion damage behind both Ground and Poison type attacks, and decided yeah.  Bertha is not relevant.  She does not compete with the DPS that Giovanni is throwing around.  There was no reason to pick her over him.

To compound her woes, much of her kit was Stall-based, and the 10k Master Mode meta was very unkind to Stall, requiring a lot of concessions on Strength powerups.  With the advent of Sinnoh CS happening alongside these three, and introducing insane multipliers and Entry x2 skills, Stall was in a worse position than ever before.  Granted, she was like Wallace in her trap damage stacking, and the added power of Sandstorm had some potential, but the big expectation was in Stealth Rock.  Yes, the dreaded skill of competitive entered Masters in the form of a Rock Damage Field, which would deal an unspecified amount of damage per action to all opponents.  No one knew quite what this would entail, but we hoped for much.  And were given little.  Turned out, the damage was negligible, maybe a little stronger than Sandstorm chip at base, and able to hit for super-effective damage.  Sounds cute, right?  Oh, except that every single fight in the game was retro-fitted to have Rock DF Resistance 9, so Stealth Rock effectively dealt like 20 damage.  It wasn't just negligible, it was effectively nonexistent.  So Bertha, somehow, added basically nothing to the pre-existing Stall meta.

As if all that wasn't enough, things actually got worse somehow.  Three months later, Courtney would also join the general pool, with Ground Zone of all things, answering the long-held question of whether types with natural synergy with Hail and Sandstorm would receive Zones in the affirmative.  Courtney had comparable sync performance, immediate access to a better modifier on damage, and better self-setup.  She wasn't even frail; her physical bulk help up really well.  Bertha faced significant competition there.  And then PokeFairs started getting grid expansions, starting with Cynthia, who absolutely exploded onto the field.  Even among F2P options, we got Naomi, who is actually a respectable damage dealer for the type.

I would be lying if I said Bertha was bad.  I actually happen to like her quite a bit. But compared to Aaron and Lucian?  Yeah, Bertha did not compete at the same level.  And as Ground-type damage has become a bit more commonplace, Bertha’s had some trouble standing out.  Which is a shame.  Maybe her Variety Scout will be good.  Or she’ll get an alt.  Think about it, DeNA.  I’d whale.  You know I’m good for it.

LUCIAN Okay. Okay, listen to me.  It's been a year, and Lucian is still, bar absolutely nothing, the best general pool 5* in the entire game.

At the most basic level, what Lucian offers is tremendously powerful.  And it all lies in Growl, of all things.  Lucian debuffs Attack by 1 stage, on all opponents. His passives then kick in, also debuffing special defense, and boosting the entire team's speed by 1.  At 1/5, Lucian is the second most efficient AoE special defense debuffer in the game, tied with 3/5 Halloween Iris, and losing only to 3/5 SS Hilbert with Ripple Effect and a very lucky P!Dawn.  That is what you are dealing with.  But even that's not enough, because those speed boosts mean that Lucian is keeping your entire team running on nigh-infinite gauge. With no investment, Lucian already improved upon the tried and true success of Palentine's Dawn, becoming one of the unquestionable best tools to get your hands on.  He even had a natural 100% multiplier on sync damage as a Tech nuke, just to really sell that this guy is unreasonable, even with no further investment.

But let's say you want investment.  Let us say you have been graced by the presence of 3/5 Lucian.  Now you have someone with perfect self-setup, thanks to Ramp Up and his trainer move.  Now you have someone with a 50% confuse chance for Uxie as needed.  Now you have someone with SIX sync damage tiles, another multiplier, Adrenaline 1, and even Burst In to just ignore the need for crit buffing in advance of his first sync.   Since he spams Growl all day, Burst In is like an ideal complement to his kit.  Lucian could routinely hit damage cap before it was raised.   This guy was unbelievable from the first moment he dropped, and has not missed a single beat along the way.  Champion Stadium? Unbelievable debuffing game.  Gauntlet?  Stupendous sync nuke.  Battle Villa? The ability to require no MP at all to maximize special damage and maintain gauge for 4-bar spam?  When the next month introduced Johtrio, Lucian was instantly the partner for SS Kris and SS Ethan, perfectly complementing their skillset and wasting nothing.  Every single mode was instantly Lucian's playhouse.

This game was made for Lucian.  Think about it: the moment before he came out was Sygna Suit Morty, a dude who offered great bulk and role compressed Sun into a support.  Right after him, we get Sygna Suit Kris, who did the same but for Rain, and massively favored special attackers.  Often when I talk about their role compression, it's stuff like dual field effects; Morty and Lyra giving Sun and Grassy Terrain, or Kris taking Lucas or Anni Skyla to help out Clair or Winona.  But for everything else, especially on-type, the third was just someone to debuff.  That’s what you were aiming to add.  Lucian was, and is, that debuffer.  Those two literally produced a free spot for him on nearly every team. Especially for Kris, whose main flaw was just being kinda slow.  Lucian could speed her team up, and weakened special defense?  Well I guess the game's just entirely over then, huh?

Even in the face of competition, Lucian prevails.  Sygna Suit Hilbert has Ripple Effect Metal Sound, but when is Hilbert ever going to just spam debuffs for someone else at 3/5?  Sygna Suit Brendan showed up to compress his role into a support, and did a pretty good job at being a debuffer, except Freevenge cannot compete with speed buffs when you’re spamming a 3-bar move, and Lucian opened up alternate supports like full defense or more aggressive special attack supports.

No one has done it like Lucian.  This dude is out here competing with PokeFairs and doesn’t even lose.  His literal only flaw has been competition with Zone setters, and wouldn’t you know it, Master Mode just dropped a 150 point condition to not change field effects, to counteract the 100 point No Debuffs condition.  This game was literally designed for Lucian.  All is for Lucian, the luckiest man in the world.

I want to end this by saying listen.  There have been a lot of new players to this game over on Reddit recently.  If you are such a player, great news: the Sinnoh Villain Arc is about to rerun.  Be sure to collect those daily tickets for free pulls, and use them immediately.  Right now you have 1/7 odds, because Looker hasn’t been added yet.  These are the best odds you have of pulling something specific, and hope that you pull Lucian even once.  Because holy shit.  Holy shit, dude.

[medicus-mortem]

@ikkaku-of-heart​ asked: 😊

For every “😊” I receive, my muse will have a pleasant dream.

   Law stands before a door so heart wrenchingly familiar his hands shake as he reaches for the door knob. For a second the wood seems charred and cracked but then he blinks and it is pristine once more. He takes a breath, his jaw tight as fear wraps around his heart.

   Then a hand drops on his shoulder and a smile like the sun settles into view. That smile is haloed by unruly curls and a yellow beanie. Ikkaku grins at him, so full of excitement and joy. She seems truly happy, truly at ease. He sees no hint of the weight she carries, not indication that her smile has become more armour than true expression. She is simply happy.

   “What are you waiting for, dummy? Get in there,” Ikkaku says, bumping his hip with her own before streaming past him. She grabs the door and shoves it open.

   Instantly Law is blinded by a bright light. He raises his hand to shield his eyes, brows furrowing. A hand grabs his wrist and tugs him inside, the doctor soon getting overcome by cheers and applauds. He blinks and he light fades. He stands in a room decked out with streamers and decorations. Before him is spread his family, his entire family. His pirate crew has crammed themselves into the living room of his childhood home. Among them all is his birth family, his parents and little sister who is now the adult woman he imagines she’d be.

   A crash to the side draws his attention to the toppled Corazon. The man jumping to his feet and giving them all a sheepish grin as he rubs his head. He signs congratulations in Law’s direction and the cheering continues. Lamy comes forwards, grabbing Law’s other hand, and together his two younger sisters pull him further into them room.

    “What are we celebrating?” he finally asks, the doctor somehow feeling apart from all of this as he feels his heart fill with warmth.

   “You, of course,” chuckles Lamy, his blood sister beaming with pride.

   “Yeah, Law,” Ikkaku continues, his adopted sister just as happy for him. “You’ve done it! You’ve cured Am-.”

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

   A crash echoes through the room and Law comes awake with a jerk. His muscles tense, body about to leap up and prepare for a fight, but a firm hand settles in his hair to comb fingers through it soothingly. She pulls him back to her chest, to the steady beat of her heart and this spot Law was comfortably sleeping on moments ago. Such a touch might draw him back into slumber if the owner of that hand wasn’t shouting as well.

    “You’ve done it now, jerk face!” Ikkaku shouts at the wincing Hakugan. “You woke up the captain! Why did you even come in here with that thing? Dropping it all over the floor like that!”

   Hakugan bows in apology, his smiling mask somehow looking like a sad grimace. He quickly grabs up the new telescope he wanted to show Law before scampering out of the room. He’d dropped it in his excitement and hopefully the thing wasn’t broken. Clearly he and Ikkaku will have to work on that later.

   With a groan Law pushes himself up out of Ikkaku’s embrace. He raises an eyebrow at her, just as annoyed at her as he is with the clattering noise.

   “You’re both noisy and now I’m not gonna get back to sleep,” there is a low sigh, disappointment in his tone. “A shame. That was a good one for a change.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[playboysaleen]

Love Malady.

Part 2.

Part 1.

Summary: Daughter of the notorious gang of thieves. One day your brothers group kidnap a nobel woman. Feeling guilt you gave her warm clothes, tended to her injuries, and helped her escape. instantly the world falls under a deadly pandemic and is killing/infecting people left to right and you are the only one who is immune. All because you saved a girl years ago coming to find out... it was the goddess of death(Famine).

Warnings- cursing i think, violence.

___________

Present.

February 12th, 2021.

The night Buck got sick changed everyone's life. I waited hours for my phone to ring giving me the ‘okay homeboys fine.’ but Jaime walked into my room with tear-stained cheeks telling me Buck didn't make it.

Then a couple days later after Bucks death one of the guys found Adam dead with the same symptoms. Then Pedro, then Jackson, then Shelli, and it killed off almost all of my fathers gang. The disease spread like a wildfire. From our home town to the city, the state then just did this hopscotch move and expanded around the whole world.

The first year the doctors tried to keep it a secret but it flared so fast that society called it the ‘Sinister Ash’. There was no cure when the officials realized it was airborne, literally nothing could cure anyone. Some were lucky with similarities of a stomach virus and a mild headache, and there were the less fortunate. Headaches, stomach bugs, fever and cancer like symptoms. The strong can work through it but it was permanent. The rest who had it worst? Died off just like Buck and Adam.

“Why are you not eating?” My fathers voice rang me out of my thoughts with his thick Venezuela accent, I peeked at my father shrugging my shoulders. Grumbling, he focused his attention to Jaime as they went over the next move for their ‘purloins’. I grabbed my plate walking towards the kitchen running the hot water over the greatest plate, a thud sounded in the dining room which caused my brother's name to boom out my fathers mouth. I ran towards the other side of the table to grasp my brother's shaking body, cursing under my breath. I dialed 911.

“The ambulance is on the way, go Pa.” I instructed my father watching his face fall, he sighed placing his hand on my shoulder.

“Our time has come, I love you, my child.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead making his way out the back. I cooed into Jaime’s hair as I held him in my arms praying to the man above if he could not let this disease invade my brother's body. ________________________________________ “Did you at least get the girls number?” Jaime stated in disbelief when he woke up and saw the EMT worker reeling him into the ER. I chuckled, shaking my head playfully, pushing his shoulder.

“She was pretty..” I mumbled causing Jaime to widen his eyes pushing me back-

“I TOLD YOU!” he laughed out loud when the doctor walked in with a clipboard. A man around his 50’s with a look that masked his face of light, but we all knew he was trying to survive like the rest of us.

“Good afternoon, I am Doctor Nives.” The man spoke ever so gently but his beard gave me Cap vibes. I nodded my head looking at Jaime slipping my hand into his.

“So there’s news, I do not know how you both will take it but-“ he grabs the x rays placing them onto the screen that took up half of the wall next to Jaime. I watched as the deeper detailed body of my brother's chest caged clouds of red, black, and green.

“As you can see you have stage 2 of the Ashen, the red that covers this area here-” Dr. Nives circled the red that surrounded the upper left of my brother's chest.

 “Covers your heart, but after running the test I see your red cells are fighting the virus and it knocks more time for you.” A lump formed in my throat as the last 4 words flew out his mouth.

“Wait, what do you mean more time?” His eyes soften sending me a sympathetic look, Jaime gasped softly looking down at his hands.

“Well from the lab work it shows that you had 3 months, but at how good your cells are handling the virus you have 6 months to a year.” He finished taking his gloves off and applying hand sanitizer,

“Since you ma’am we’re around him can we run some lab work for your safety?” He asked looking between Jaime and I. I looked at my brother to see him nodding my way, turning to the man I nodded as he clasp his hands together. 

“Great. We can move you right next door so you can stay close to your brother.” Reassuring the both of us, I placed a kiss against his forehead following the doctor out. I took a seat onto the bed leaning against the back of the wall holding out my arm. 

For the last 4 years I’ve noticed a big change in my appearance that it actually scares me on the inside. First year, I lost a tremendous amount of weight, the extra weight turned into bulk in the places I always wished for.. huh..

 During the first year, the acne on my face disappeared in thin air. One minute I’m trying to clean the pores with three different facial cleansers, I go to bed, then the next I wake up and my face is so clear. I was changing for the better, yet the world was changing for the worst. That first year we lost almost 2 million lives, including a lot of the people around me. 

The second year is what sparked my curiosity of my body. One night, I was cooking dinner for Jaime and I, having a heavy debate with who is better at shooting the knife slid through my palm causing Jaime to spring off the island placing his hand against the deep gash trying his best to stop the bleeding. We knew we couldn’t head to the hospital for the sake of our fathers identity and the groups, so Jaime wrapped my hand the best he could and called it a night. I didn’t like his Tostadas anyways. Next day, I woke up to change my bandage. I opened the wrap to see no gash from the night before. Eyebrows furrowing together I question my own body for the first time in my life.. I can’t be immortal, that’s only in books. Then I noticed it. From small paper cuts to bruises- my wounds healed faster than any other person. From taking days for a wound to close, a couple minutes and it’s gone. Clean. Like it was never there to begin with. 

Last year, an incident had happened; Traumatizing to say. Snuck out with an old friend of mine, talking around the den says she’s been trying to make a move on me but me being me I waved them off knowing she’s not the type. Met up with her, got a couple drinks in headed back to her place, got a couple kisses in. The kissing escalated until this small beautiful voice that I heard years back echoed in my ears, jumping back, I stopped what we had and went home. Next day I received the news that she passed away AND GET THIS- JUST like Buck. Since then, her voice echoes in my ear. It’s been quiet the last month, I miss it though. 

A pinch brought me out of my thoughts when the nurse smiled my way explaining what the blood was for and Dr.Nives will be in shortly to give me the news. I snooped around heading to my brothers room when my name was said from the doctors a couple rooms down from me. 

“That can’t be possible, it’s only been 5 minutes and she’s literally clean from head to toe.” A nurse quarreled, a couple more murmurs were heard but Dr.Nives voice caught my attention-

“Let’s do Code A.” A gasp was heard from within their circle with multiple disagreements, confusion flashed my face until a ‘yes sir’ and footsteps were heard coming my way. I sprinted towards my room taking a seat sending Jaime a small text message. 

“Heya Y/n, do you mind if I give you some antibiotics just in case you are diagnosed with the Ashen?” The nurse requested which I nodded extending my arm watching her place the small plate next to me. I squinted my eyes examining the shot that contained a weird dark substance. 

“Why is the stuff black? Isn’t medicine a clear color for safety purposes?” I blurted out, watching the nurse grab the shot striking the needle into my vein. I grunted feeling the warm liquid enter my body, I huffed lightly leaning my head against the wall. Then, it hit me. 

“Wait, what if my test comes back negative? Why do I need antibiotics?” I glanced at the nurse feeling my heartbeat raise as the room began to shrink.

“What’s… what’s happening to me?.” I whispered watching the nurse draw more blood from the previous spot. I felt like I needed to throw up, once the nurse left I wobbled towards my brothers room next door, 

“Man bro we need to get some take out when we leave this place- Y/n? Are you okay?” Jaime rambled out then his face washed with concern as I stumbled onto his bed. 

“I don’t feel so good Brother..” I breathed out looking up to lock eyes with his own. He gasped, wrapping his arms around me, rocking me back and forth. 

“Y/n…” he whispered, watching my contacts with my brown eyes slowly drain into this grey/golden color. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked turning towards the door making sure no one came in.

“They gave me the Sinister Ash.. I can feel it in my chest. We have to go.” I grunted using all my strength to push myself off my brother's bed wobbling towards the door. A cough formed in my throat falling out my mouth, my hand flew to my mouth watching the black and red substance pool into my hands. 

“Y/N?” Jaime shouted running to my side, I grabbed him for support walking out the room. I felt the fire in my chest pass when a small burp lashed out my lips. Sighing deeply I stood up straight facing Jaime. 

“I… I feel better.” I mumbled opening the doors to the emergency waiting room. My body collided with another grabbing them instantly- I gasped at how quick my reflexes were, even Jaime’s eyes widened. 

“Why thank you, I’m so sorry I- Y/m? Why are you not in your room?” Doctor Nives questioned looking between the both of us, I felt warm liquid on the side of my mouth. Quickly wiping it, a fake smile formed on my face slowly stepping back towards the exit just a couple feet from us. 

“Sorry Doctor, but I think it’s time my brother and I head home- our father must be worried sick.” I bluffed, gripping my brother's wrist, giving him the signal.

 “Y/n. We know who you both are.”

_______________

Thank you for the wait<3

taglist- @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

[canyousayinconsistency]

Why Can’t I Have Him Back?

I had a craving for a specific scenario and thus I provided it for myself, hope yall enjoy.

Sukuna x Curse! Reader | Angst with a small fluffy scene

Warnings: I made the reader be kinda like a butterfly-ish curse so if you dont like that my bad, blood (not too much)

I’ll probably make a part 2 for this, maybe something smutty if im feeling like it

Ever since Itadori fused with the King of Curses, Sukuna, all of the high ranking Jujutsu Sorcerers have been on edge. Not only from the unexpected development of having someone being able to tame such a monster, but also due to the ungodly amount of spiritual energy that had pulsed across the nation at his arrival. The pressure it released had knocked them back, the feeling sending a shiver down their spine as they realized it had been on par with Sukuna, if not even greater.

Despite feeling this unease, no matter what or where they searched nothing and no one was found. While they had constantly worried about this sudden presence they had current matters to attend to, such as the fact of Gojou Satoru’s sealing.

Itadori had run throughout the station, fighting minor curses here and there before coming to a halt from the presence of Mahito, Geto and Jogo. While Itadori and the other shamans around him prepared for a battle he could only watch in confusion as everyone around him, including the major curses in front of him stiffened and shuddered.

A large gust was felt before a hole in the ceiling broke through, crashing down in between the two feuding parties. From the moonlight, almost in a serene manner, a tall woman floated down, her large wings carrying her to settle atop of the debris. The curses behind her held their breath, the sorcerers in front of her tense at her presence, and Itadori shivered in both fear, yet relief?

The woman before him crouched down slightly, her wings settling behind her as she finally opened her eyes. Her bright (e/c) looked as though it was glowing against her black scleras. If you were to look past her demonic features she was quite a beauty, by all standards. Upon closer inspection they noticed her six arms. Her top and bottom arms were grotesquely stretched out behind her, holding onto something, while her middle arms had their hands clasped together. Just behind those arms on her stomach held dark markings, the same that were on Sukuna’s stomach.

Looking around she made eye contact with everyone in the room, tilting her head to the side her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Turning to face the curses behind her everyone noticed how they kneeled before her, their heads not moving an inch to look up at her. However one curse had been so bold as to walk towards her.

“WhO iS tHiS? WeAk? I aM sTrOnGeR!” The garbled voice laughed at her delicate structure. The cursed lunged at her just as she turned to slowly look at them. Just as they jumped she tilted her head slightly to the side, catching the curse midair. The curses gasped and smiled at her display of strength while the shaman prepared for the worse.

The curse choked and groaned as she stared at it more. She tilted her head the other way, watching as the curse slowly became more and more twisted. Finally she frowned, almost like a child who didn’t like their toy, she shook her head and instantly the body was a twisted mess hitting the floor with a wet plop.

Jogo had let out a small cheer before standing up to applaud her. “Amazing! My La-” He was cut off by a gust of wind as he felt her hand cover his mouth. No one moved, too astonished by her sudden movement, it was as though she teleported. 

“Shh…”

He shook under her grip, however her delicate hand gently left him, dropping him to the ground as he tried to gather himself. Sharply turning her head her voice was barely above a whisper as she looked at Itadori.

“Sukuna…?”

In an instant she was in front of the boy who could only watch in fear as she held his head in her hands. Despite her delicate frame her body dwarfed his in size. Once again she whispered her King’s name, her hand gently stroking the marks under Itadori’s eyes. 

“What happened? My Sukuna...you’re not him, but you have him…?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, causing the shamans to jump into action in fear of the fate that Itadori would face, much like the curse from before. However just as they jumped, she held out her hands, catching them in mid air as she continued to look deep into Itadori’s eyes. No. She seems to look through him. 

“M-My Sukuna...give him back to me…”

She whimpered causing everyone to look shocked. Such a fearsome curse was crying. Large black tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed, begging for her King to come back. Itadori flinched as a voice echoed in his head.

“Switch with me.”

He fought back, however it was as though Sukuna was fighting back with a different kind of strength. As she continued to cry she felt a warm palm come to rest against her face, wiping her tears in a way that held such warmth and familiarity. 

“Don’t...cry…”

On the side of Itadori’s cheek was a second mouth which held the voice the woman had wanted to hear for so long. Dropping the shaman to the ground she grabbed his head once more to stare at the mouth of her lover. 

“Sukuna…! S-Sukuna…”

She sobbed quietly, holding Itadori to her chest. Despite being a curse with such monstrous strength, she held him so gently. Her scent felt familiar, yet it shouldn’t have. Bulking, Itadori shoved her back as he coughed up blood, his throat felt as though it were burning. 

It was then everyone noticed the light (colour) pollen that seemed to flutter off of her wings. The many shamans around her covered their mouths, some already falling to the poison as well. The curses behind her seemed to be unaffected, however some of the lesser curses with them started to look uneasy. 

Falling to his knees Itadori grabbed onto his throat, he felt his consciousness fading away slightly before it all went black. Steadily he stood up, now on his face were four bright red eyes that stared up to the woman, the markings on his face slowly turning opaque.

“It’s been a while, hasn't it (y/n)?”

With a gasp the woman lunged at him, engulfing him in her arms. Had this been 1000 years ago she would have been dwarfed by him, but now it was she who held him. She cried out his name, her whimpers of missing him and of how scared she was being heard by all.

“They took you away from me! How long has it been? I’ve only been awake for a few months.”

She stated causing all the remaining shamans to look alarmed. She had been the large awakening they felt those many moons ago. 

“Months? Heh, it’s been much longer, my love. It’s been a thousand years since I’ve returned.”

(y/n) gasped once more, shocked at how long it’s been. However, curses and shaman alike were surprised by his words. His love?

“I-I’m sorry...I should have found you sooner...I-I had to conserve my energy b-because-” 

A small cooing sound echoed in the room as Sukuna looked up at her in shock. Pulling away from him, the arms that had been stretched behind her moved in front of her. Within her arms held a small bundle, pulling down the cloth slightly Sukuna gasped at the sight before him. 

A small boy, only a few months old, gazed at him with strikingly similar red eyes with a black sclera. The baby’s scrunched face gave way to the marks underneath his eyes and down his chubby cheeks. A small hand pushed its way through the buddle which (y/n) quickly held onto, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth the baby’s hand.

“Susumu...say hi to, Papa.”

The woman cooed softly, however it was quickly ruined by the rushing of backup shaman, rushing to the scene and immediately firing off their attacks, all aimed at the woman and the bundle in her hands.

Without hesitation Sukuna blocked their attacks, drawing the two of them close to him before releasing his own attack to knock them all back. As the dust settled a small voice cried as a mother hushed her child but to no avail.

Turning to face his child Sukuna looked down at him owlishly. With a small smile the woman handed the crying child over to his father who held him so gently in his own arms. 

“Hello little one, quite the charmer aren’t you.”

He snickered at the almost toothless grin he received. Sukuna wiggled his fingers in front of his son causing the young boy to laugh however the joy was short lived until Sukuna grunted. In a rush he almost dropped their son, however he quickly gave him back to his mother.

“Damn it...No no no!”

He growled in anger before the markings disappeared leaving behind a confused Itadori. The poison had been cured causing his consciousness to return allowing him to take control once more. Hearing the fussing of a child he turned and looked at the shocked woman as she shakily held a child that reached out to him.

Taking a few confusing steps back the baby frowned before letting out a loud cry, however this time it was different. The loud cry let out a shockwave knocking back everyone and everything, except for his mother who looked down at the ground, tears pooling in her eyes once more. 

She aimlessly tried to soothe her child but their cries wouldn’t stop. Using all of her arms she held the baby close to her chest, soothing the child of the shockwave, but not of his tears. Biting her lip (y/n) looked at Itadori with tears in her eyes.

“W-Why? I don’t understand…”

The teenager opened his mouth however the sound of a liquid hitting the floor caused them all to look at the bleeding wound now coming from her chest. Looking down she noticed how her child no longer cried, but had a frown present on his bloody face. 

“He’s hungry…”

She murmured to herself before extending her wings to fly once again. Floating over she went to the twitching body of a weakened shaman. Looking down at him her hair stabbed through his chest causing him to let out a guttural choking sound before he paled, he skin wrinkled as though he aged significantly. 

“He’s hungry, I have to feed him...Food for Susumu.”

She now hummed looking around at the aray of shamans on the verge of death. Before anyone could breathe her hair stabbed each of them through their chest, each person gagging and gasping before she absorbed their energy. She was moving onto the next row before she felt a presence behind her. Itadori had attempted to punch her away however she easily dodged it. A section of her hair grabbed him by the wrist before holding him in the air.

“Please don’t do that...not while you look like h-him...Not while you look like my husband…”

She whimpered before floating towards the whole she created earlier. Looking back at him with a tearful expression, Itadori felt as though his heart was being taken out of him when she heard her broken sob.

“Why can’t I have him back?”

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (78) || atz

You haven’t left the infirmary for a whole day.

“Ahhhh!” You shriek into your pillow for the fiftieth-something time that day, burying your face in the soft down, fingers winding into the sheets. “Ahhh!”

There’s an amused chuckle from somewhere in the room, and soft footsteps draw closer. The mattress of your bed sinks lightly from the added weight before a hand comes to rest on your head, gentle and comforting.

“What’s going on with you?” San’s light voice is full of amusement, and you peek out from under the covers to see your master sitting cross legged on your bed, teasing smile on his face. “You’ve been holed up in here for a whole day now. Don’t you think that you should go explore the town a bit before the Treasure leaves Tortuga? Did something go wrong when you tried to give Hongjoong the jacket?”

Instantly, your mouth twists into a pout and you bury your face into the pillow once more with a tiny, muffled scream. Your cheeks burn, and the image of Hongjoong looking at you with such tenderness in his eyes resurfaces at your master’s mention only serves to addle your mind further.

“Please shut up for a second, master.” You groan into the pillow, refusing to look up. San snickers, but then in the next second he gasps. “Wait, didn’t you mean to give him that handmade jacket? Did he reject it? I’ll beat up the ungrateful little bastard, why he-”

“No, no, master!” You catch his arm before he can march out of the infirmary. “He didn’t reject it, I did give it to him and he accepted it. It’s just that...” you hesitate for a moment, the words rolling about in your mouth. “It’s just that, well, captain... he...”

San stares back at you, unblinking. “He...?”

You bury your face in your hands. For some reason, the tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire. You try to speak, and the words come out a mangled mess - almost as bad as Mingi’s attempts at cooking.

“Words.” San encourages. “You know, with consonants and vowels. Using the mouth might be helpful.”

You make an unintelligible noise and launch your pillow in his direction. There’s a satisfying “oompf”, but the downside is that you’ve lost your only shield between the two of you.

San grins. “So?”

“Well,” you pause, trying to find words more eloquent within your choices and resulting with none. “He... confessed.”

Good job, Chin Hae! Your inner self cheers, full of pride. That’s was a full sentence!

Your master stills for a moment, pulling the pillow off his head. The previously amused expression he was wearing on his face morphs into one of concern as he looks at you. “Oh. Oh.”

You’re stunned for a moment, staring at your master. “I would have expected you to be a little more surprised. Do you mean you actually knew about this?”

​San’s expression softens, eyes pained, before his fingers come up to poke you in the nose. “You’d be surprised how dense you can be sometimes, Chin Hae. That’s not good for you, you know.”

Your lips purse as you pick at the ends of the threads of your blanket. “What am I supposed to do, master? Wooyoung too, both of them... I rejected them both, but still... it hurts...”

There’s a soft exhale that leaves your master, that lingers in the air, still in the silence before he speaks. “Only you can decide that for yourself, Chin Hae.” When you look up at him, he puts his hand on your head with a painfully gentle smile. “I promised to do my best to help you find a cure, but I won’t give either of us false hope - there is every possibility you might die. Since this concerns you and the two of them, you have to make the choice yourself.”

You have to make the choice yourself.

You sigh and rub at your temples, trying to resolve the onset of a headache you can already feel coming. All this thinking hurts your head. “You know, I wish you weren’t right all the time, master.”

“We all want the impossible sometimes.” San shrugs easily, his usual smirk tinged with a hint of cheekiness. You turn a glare at him, but there’s no heat to it at all - how could you? Instead, San yanks you out of the bed and you follow, a tad unwillingly.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go get some herbs from town,” San suggests, pulling you along with him. “A good walk about time will clear your mind, and the Treasure will be leaving Tortuga soon.”

You sigh, reluctant, but follow.

What could possibly go wrong?

>>>

The trip to town starts off fine enough.

Wooyoung whines about not being to go with the two of you - you remind him about his ban from the town due to his little hostage attempt (‘it was only one teeny tiny hostage attempt,” he protests) and the two of you set off hand in hand, chattering brightly about what you’ll find in the marketplace.

And well, apparently the Fates had been listening, because they were determined to proved you wrong.

It’s barely ten minutes into the market that you’re completely lost.

You have no idea how you ended up in this situation - quite alone, separated from San in the middle of a bustling crowd in the marketplace. The sea of people surge around you like the push and pull of an unyielding tide, and the last thing you remember is San’s hand separating from yours after a man bumped into the two of you.

You’re not too worried, you’ve come here quite a few times, enough to be rather familiar with the place. As long as you find your way to the central town square, you’ll definitely be able to navigate your way through the back alleys back to the harbour with the town square as a reference point.

That is, until you hear something.

“The Treasure is leaving the harbour soon. We should move as soon as possible.” A low mutter reaches your ears as you step into a dark alley, and the second you hear those words, you flatten yourself against the wall in shock. That definitely doesn’t sound like any of crew, you know most of their voices well enough.

“But the Pirate King is the captain of that ship.” A nervous tremble in the voice of the man’s conversation partner. He sounds reluctant, and for a moment pride wells up in your chest at the reputation your captain holds. “We can’t just attack them! We’ll die!”

What?

They’re going to do what now?

“Listen, you coward,” the man practically growls, his voice a low rumble. You shiver lightly at that, and peek around the corner. To your horror, you see a hulking, burly man with rippling muscles, tan skin decorated with swirling black lines that spiral down his chest and across his forearms. He could easily crush you under his foot. “The big bosses in the inn right now are discussing plans, big ones. The second the Treasure leaves the harbour of Tortuga, ten different ships are going to hit it all at once with everything they’ve got. There’s no way they’ll escape.”

You clap a hand over your mouth and crouch behind the brick wall again. Heart racing in your chest and cold sweat sliding down your temples, you think carefully over what you’ve heard. All thoughts of escaping immediately flee your mind. Ten ships intending to attack the Treasure?

“Pirates don’t band together, the loot split amongst them won’t be big enough.” The other man mutters, although he seems slightly more reassured. “You’re intending on fighting one of the most terrifying ships to ever sail the waters of the Caribbean!”

“Are you an idiot, or do you just not know how much the Royal Navy is offering for this capture?” The man’s voice is near maniacal with the delirium of his excitement. “They’re offering enough wealth worth an entire Spanish treasure galleon as well as pardons signed by the Queen herself. We’ll be free men, all of us. All we need to do is take down one ship.”

“What? Sounds like a load of rotten shellfish to me.” The other man snorts derisively, and your knees tremble at their words. Such a reward would surely make the Treasure the target of most ships, if not all, in the waters. “What exactly does the Royal Navy want with the Treasure? They’ve been causing less trouble than they used to ages ago.”

You know what they want.

“Some woman with a wooden hand on board, called Chin Hae or something along those lines. There are drawings of her image circulating, so we know what she looks like.” The man says roughly, and your legs nearly give out beneath you. You’ve got to run, run, but your legs won’t move. Sucking in deep breaths, you urge strength into your legs as you clamber onto your knees.

Run, run, run!

“Hmm, I heard something over there.” You immediately clamp your mouth shut, nails digging so hard into your palm you feel blood slide down your skin. Don’t make a sound, you chant in your mind, don’t even think about breathing. “Huh. Musta’ just been a bird or a rat. These alleyways are filthy.”

“Hmph. Go check anyway, it might be a street urchin or something. If anyone finds out that we were talkin’ about the plans, we’re good as dead in a ditch.” The gruffer man mutters, and you hear grumbling and footsteps drawing closer to where you’re crouched.

Your heart practically stops beating in your chest. Your hand slides into your healer’s satchel, trembling. What do you do?

“See? Absolutely nothin’, it must have been just a-”

The man rounds the corner, and in that single, desperate second, you strike.

Pulling the largest round bottomed flash that you’d just bought from the apothecary with San earlier, you smash it over the man’s head with everything you’ve got.

The man lets out a tiny scream and shattered glass flies everywhere, your eyes lock. He stumbles back, bleeding from the forehead where you’d struck him, and grabs for you again.

“That’s the girl! The woman with the wooden hand! Get her, you fool!”

At the sound of his partner’s bellow, you gasp as you see him draw his sword. The size of it along could cleave you in half across the middle. When you whirl around to flee, the scrawnier man grabs you by the back of your tunic, terrifyingly strong. “I’m not letting you go!” He swears, and you react instantly, just as Jongho had taught you all those months ago.

You shove the remains of the broken glass bottle straight into one of his eyes with all your might, and the man screams in agony, curling up on the filthy ground as crimson blood gushes down his face. The same hot, sticky blood runs over your hand and between your fingers.

You don’t have time to worry about him. You run.

“Stop right there!” You hear him pounding on a wooden door behind you as you stumble, cursing your legs. Move! “Oi, we found the girl! Get your asses out here and get her!”

You dash down the alleyways. People, people, get to where there are lots of people! Your lungs burn, and you hear angry shouting of ‘where did she go’ at your back, the voices drawing closer every second. You’re not as used to the maze of alleyways as these people are, what do you do? What if you take a wrong turn and just end up running deeper into it?

You pause for a moment at a cross section, glancing about desperately as you heave for breath. Left, or right or-

Your eyes lock on something, up!

“Sorry, coming through,” you apologise as you shove past a townsmen as you race up the stairs to the rooftops. The man shrieks at your invasion of his house, but you barely hear him. Yes! Up here, you can see the way to the harbour without the walls of the alleys in the way!

Luckily for you, the houses here are clustered and cramped together, and you leap across the roofs with relative ease - nothing compared to toeing the wildly swinging masts in the middle of a storm.

The harbour!

Your knees nearly buckle as you land hard, but you don’t have the luxury to stop and think about the pain. Picking yourself up, you run with all your might, leaping across a gap between two alleys and hear some more shouting. “She’s up there! Get onto the roofs before she gets out of the alleys!”

There’s a whistle of something sharp slicing through the air, and instantly you throw up your hands to protect your face and your neck (‘better your hands that your life,’ Jongho had told you once grimly).

There’s a heavy thunk and you stumble back at the sheer force of the blade, eyes screwed shut as you wait for the agonizing pain to come. But it doesn’t.

To your surprise, when you pull your hands away from your face, you look down to see a blade embedded in your prosthetic hand, the wood nearly split in half. You make a little amused noise, unable to keep the laugh in, half crazed with adrenaline. That hand has really bad luck when it comes to knives, wooden or not, you think.

There’s the rattle of loose stones behind you, and you whirl around to see one of your pursuers already clambering onto the roof and your heart drops into your belly. Yanking the knife from your wooden hand, you send it sailing at the man and it misses his head. Instead, it strikes his hand and the man screams in pain to clutch at it, before realising he’s still climbing and falls to the cobbles below, taking his friends down with him.

“Don’t let her get away! She’s the key to us getting rich! She’s our treasure!” One of the men from below roar, and you balk at the words, disgust pooling in the pit of your stomach. Courage surges up in you out of nowhere. “The only one who gets to call me that is Captain, you bastards!”

You don’t have the patience to see if they’ve heard. You dive for the exit out of the alleyways and scramble along the shops at the docks, ducking and weaving around startled shopkeepers as you yank your hood over your head.

Can’t let them recognise you, you think frantically as you continue sprinting down the docks, chest heaving. Behind, you hear your pursuers roughly shoving the townspeople aside in their rush to get to you before you reach the Treasure. “Oi, stop right there! Stop running!”

“Do they seriously think I’ll listen to that?” You mutter under your breath, but for all your bravado, the voices are getting closer, and you’re almost dizzy with exhaustion. You look about frantically for somewhere to hide, but before you can, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you into a narrow alleyway behind a makeshift tent selling an assortment of mirrors, shrouded in darkness.

Thrashing, you struggle to get out of the man’s grip but it’s as firm as iron, and strangely gentle. Gentle as it may be though, you’re ready to bite your way out if need be until a mild, lilting voice touches your ears. “Hey, hey, you’re alright now. Those men are gone.”

You still, trembling. The man’s voice is soothing, but there’s something that grips your chest about it; it sounds familiar, but not quite. Unable to resist the urge, you look up to look at your saviour’s face.

A slender, handsome face, sharp nose and delicate features. But your eyes lock onto his eyes, mismatched ones, one a familiar, kind green and the other a dark, murky colour, the shade of dirty, brackish water.

Your heart drops into your chest, and instantly, every survival instinct in you screams at you to run, so loudly that your head nearly splits.

He looks like... he looks like...

He looks like your captain.

Recognition flickers across his face, and the kindness in his eyes disappear almost in the a blink. Instead, that kindness is replaced by something that looks like depraved hunger, and you feel like a prey being stared down by a predator.

Your survival instinct screams at you.

Run!

“I found you.” The man whispers, one hand coming up to touch your cheek and you recoil, heart beating unnaturally loudly in your chest. Your head feels like its about to split in half, strange, disembodied voices ringing in your skull, each louder than the other. “My treasure.”

“S-stay away from me.” You warn, one hand gripping your head as if you could physically prevent your mind from shattering. “Don’t move another inch!”

The man doesn’t seem able to hear you, taking a step closer. Power spills from him, so dark and thick it makes you gag, flinching backwards. Your back hits the wall. “I finally found you. With your power, I finally can-”

“I don’t have any power!” You shriek, trying to stay on your feet but the pain that wrecks your head threatens to bring you to your knees. There’s something growing there, too large for you to push back, as if you’re trying to hold back a storm wave with your bare hands. “I’m a normal human, just like everyone else! I just want to live a normal life!”

You are still part of the Treasure, part of my crew, one of my family. Even if you are a woman, a clay one, instead of a man of flesh, neither of those things change for me.

“Normal? No, you’re not.” The man takes another step closer, and the pain resounds throughout your entire body, so badly till your fingers are trembling. “Human? Something like you could never be. No matter how much you try, you can’t escape what you are.”

He regards you with a smile that seems almost surgical, and your heart plummets.

“You’re not even really alive.”

There’s the sound in the back of your head that sounds like tearing cloth, and your mind rents in half.

The last thing you see is a pair of vividly blue eyes in the gloom, rippling in almost liquid surface of a mirror, startlingly lifelike.

It takes a second for you to realise those are looking right back at you.

Thunder and lightning surges, wild tempests riding like wild horses bringing about the end of the word, and everything dissolves into chaos.The man from earlier seems to have vanished, of course he would, who would remain in this storm? The person in the mirror looks at you in the eye as the hurricane rages all about you. You stare, unable to move.

Who are you?

The howling of the wind and the icy blades of freezing rain don’t affect you in the least, but your limbs are leaden. The reflection in the mirror opens its mouth to speak.

They will come bearing a gift. Kill the man, and return. There is no running from me. Free us both, ****.

The one-eyed green boy smiles at you, and holds out his pinky finger.

I am you.

The storm screams overhead. Kill him, kill him, kill him, it chants.

You are me.

You crumple to your knees, and everything goes black.

Kill him.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 4 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2k

Part 4 - One and the Same

As the weeks passed and the weather in late October turned colder, the halls and chambers in Hogwarts stayed warm. It also seemed that somebody specific had warmed up around you as well. Tom didn’t ignore you anymore. Not completely at least. He was still distant, but you guessed that was just how he was. Progress, still.

Camille was sure he liked you, even if he didn’t show it. You didn’t entirely agree with her, but it was definitely a start.

You had just thought of him when you walked along the shore of the Black Lake alone. Since Avery and Lestrange hadn’t dared to even look at you for more than a moment, you felt save enough to wander around on your own again. And you enjoyed taking time for yourself. To manage your thoughts in peace, while the wind howled across the water to keep you company. 

Tom must have been impressed by your potions skills. His demeanour had changed ever since you beat him making Moonseed Poison, even though you thought he was mad at you at first. You had lost count of how often you had thought about that smirk on his face and what that did to your stomach. It was almost embarrassing how many times you started daydreaming, how your mind wanted to drift off, and you let it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out your name and hasty footsteps coming your way from behind. You stopped and turned around to see who it was. Benjamin Hilt. The Gryffindor boy from sixth year, who had already asked too many questions. 

He was quite short for a boy of his age, but it seemed like he didn’t care about it. He didn’t care about a lot of things apparently. He wore jeans a lot. A clothing item wizards would usually not choose as their attire since it was such a muggle thing to wear. 

You thought it was his way of revolting the system. A very subliminal way of showing his political views. His hair must have also been part of that. That, or he didn’t own a comb. 

Not that he was unpopular, he definitely had friends. They were all like him to an extend. Loud, candid and sometimes a bit scandalising. They liked to be the centre of attention, even if that meant they would go on everyone’s nerves. You have never had a problem with them. They weren’t your friends, but you knew they usually meant no harm.

“Hey,” he said, a bit out of breath once he caught up. 

“Hi Ben,” you answered and started walking again.

“Can I walk with you for a minute?”

“Sure. Did you come up with more questions for your investigation?”

He kept quiet for a moment and you grinned while looking out over the lake, where the tiniest waves rustled in the wind.

“No,” he then said. “I mean, yes. I mean… Possibly.”

“What’s your deal, Ben?” you asked. “Not to be mean, but none of this is any of your business.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I just can’t wrap my head around this. It kind of keeps me up at night. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well if it doesn’t sit right with you, then, of course, we’re going to listen to you and throw all plans out of the window.”

“Don’t be sarcastic now. It’s a serious thing.”

“Oh really? Thanks for reminding me. Still none of your concern. And even if it was. What doesn’t sit right?”

“Two things actually,” Ben answered. “Firstly, I still don’t believe that you’re doing this of your own free will. I think he’s forcing you to marry him. And secondly, with your two families combined, Tom and his relatives will be given a whole new level of respect. And power.”

“So?”

“So? Don’t act like you don’t know what the Gaunts are all about.”

Of course you knew. Everyone did. And Ben was probably right. But what should you do about it now?

“Look, Ben,” you sighed. “I’m thankful for your concern, really. But it wasn’t forced. Tom and I… We love each other. And I’m afraid you don’t know him or any of his relatives as well as you think. They’re not seeking power. Or anything of that sort.”

You’ve never lied to someone like this before. Twisted the truth a bit, yes. Kept some information secret, yes. But this was the greatest lie that ever left your mouth. And Ben knew.

“Alright,” he said slowly and raised his eyebrows. “The Gaunts are dangerous, whether you believe it or not. Who knows what they’re capable of when they get even more respected in the wizard community. I thought you weren’t like them, you know. But seems like you’re one and the same.”

You didn’t respond. Maybe you really were like them. But what did Benjamin ‘knight in shining armour’ Hilt know about your life? You had your reasons and you weren’t going to share them with him. Who did he think he was? 

“I see you don’t want my help,” he said. “Just know, you can always ask for it when you change your mind.”

Then he walked off. And it made you angry. Not that you had anything else to say. But the mere fact that he thought he knew better than everyone else turned your insides sour. So much that you wanted to scream. But he would have heard you. So you kept it down and walked for a little longer.

One and the same. Sure. Like one of the Gaunts would do anything remotely similar than what you had done for your sister. What an idiot. And even if you accepted his help. What would he be able to do for you? Nothing. One and the same. If people wanted to see you like that, they should. But then, they should be as afraid of you as they were of Tom.

You thought of Elsie and your parents. They had sent a letter some days ago. Finally. A reason to keep going. To keep the facade. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about quitting. Now that your sister was better, you had thought that there would be a way that would lead you out of the pact. But the letter reminded you that there wasn’t. And what you did it for. Who you did it for. You took it out of your pocket and read it again.

“Dearest daughter,

we are delighted to let you know Elsie is doing much better. The Gaunts were a tremendous help. Morfin brewed several potions and one of them seemed to be the cure. Her cough stopped immediately and she is on the mend. 

She is finally eating again, she even wanted to help the elves make lunch yesterday.

I think she also grew half an inch over the last week. 

It is an incredible joy to watch her laughing again. We wish you could see her now. 

And we want to let you know, again, how thankful we are for what you did. Without you, Merlin knows what would have happened. We are so proud of you.

However, Marvolo informed us that they haven’t broken the curse entirely.

He said if there will be any kind of breach or breaking of the pact, they can make Elsie sick again. And that it would be worse than before.

We hope you know what that means and what is expected of you. We wish we could take that burden from you.

All the best,

Mum and Dad”

There was a little red heart scribbled at the bottom right corner of the letter, that Elsie had drawn. It made you smile each time you saw it. It reminded you of the countless times you had sat with her in the garden and had watched her draw random figures and shapes. She would always get angry when your drawings came out better than hers. But she never gave up trying. And you couldn’t give up trying either.

The sun went down earlier each day now, so you went back to the castle once you had walked off the anger in your bones. 

Tom sat there in the courtyard. He was alone to your surprise. Even though he didn’t talk much, he was usually with at least two other people, who competed for his attention. But not today.

“Hello,” you said and he nodded. You sat down at the stone bench next to him. “What are you doing?”

He looked at you for a moment, then leant forward and gazed into the distance. “Thinking.”

“Me too.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically.

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t seem like you thought of much when you were walking with Hilt.”

“Ben? Did you see us? Hang on. Did you watch me?”

“Does it matter? I just happened to take a walk towards the lake. Then I saw you two.”

“Okay,” you said. “Well next time feel free to join in. Anything to keep him away. Ben really gets on my nerves you know.”

“Sure,” he said, still not looking at you.

“What’s the matter now?” you asked and smiled. “You’re not jealous of him, are you?”

Tom shot you a look that could have possibly killed you. Your smile disappeared instantly and the wind suddenly felt icy.

“Because there’s nothing to be jealous about,” you went on. “I don’t even like Ben.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.

“What? No. I’m just trying-”

“Listen! If you’re going to be my wife, you must not give the impression of being unfaithful.”

“And being unfaithful means walking with anyone that isn’t you?”

“You know what it means.”

“So I’m not allowed to talk to friends?”

“I thought he wasn’t your friend.”

“He isn’t. This is not about Ben but in general.”

Tom stayed silent.

“You can’t be serious,” you said. “What do you expect me to do? Only ever speak to you, even if other people approach me? I didn’t even invite him. He just happened to be there all of a sudden.”

Tom turned towards you again and came uncomfortably close. 

“I. Don’t. Care. I expect you to be loyal.”

“I am,” you said but he stood up and left.

“Wait! You can’t just walk away.”

But he went. You ran after him, your frustration banging from inside your head against your temples. When you entered the hallways, quite a few people were around, some of them already looking at you. 

There he was, still walking away. You finally reached Tom and grabbed him by the shoulder, to make him look at you. He stopped abruptly and turned around, quicker than you had thought, so you almost bumped into him. A second of silence and staring occurred before you took a step back. Okay. Now was the time to get your point across.

“Listen,” you said quietly. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I guarantee you that’s not what happened.”

“I know wh-”

“No, I said listen to me,” you interrupted him more vehemently and people’s heads turned your way, so you kept your voice low again. “Ben is not my friend. He came up to talk to me about us. I think he knows about the pact. And he wants to ruin everything. I’m not going to lose my sister because of him. So I tried to convince him. And if you think that’s being disloyal then so it be. I don’t care either. But never run away from me when I want to explain myself. And never distrust me again for no reason.”

That was the first time you witnessed Tom Riddle being speechless. So you left him standing there without another word. If people wanted to believe you were one and the same, you would make him believe it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[dragonologist-phd]

Could I request something with, “What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?” or, “You see everyone so clearly except yourself,” using one of your Pillars OCs?

thank you for the prompt! I got You see everyone so clearly except yourself from someone else, so I’ll do What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?

For this one Rudi grabbed my inspiration, so have some Rudi & Eder BroTP!

(AO3)

When Edér first wakes up and realizes Rudi is gone, he isn’t too worried. Over the course of their travels, he’s learned that she’s got a habit of up and wandering off whenever she can’t sleep. He himself is usually the first one of their little group to rise in the morning- an old habit from years of farmwork that still hasn’t died off- and it’s no strange thing for her to come waltzing back into camp just as he’s relighting the fire, brandishing a rabbit or two for breakfast. So rather than wonder where she’s gone, Edér simply follows their routine and waits for her to return.

When the sun has crept up above the horizon and the others are beginning to stir awake, Edér does begin to get a bit concerned. The woods along the river pass aren’t especially thick, and Rudi is more than able to handle any stray bandits or wandering beasts… but still, with her luck it’s hard to tell what she might encounter. Best to check in on her, Edér decides, even if she makes fun of his hovering later on.

It doesn’t take long to find her- she didn’t bother to cover her tracks, and it’s hard to miss the lion footprints leading down dirt path. The first moment Edér catches sight of her, he thinks that maybe she actually fell asleep after all. She’s nestled on the ground, back against a tree, knees curled up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them. Sol is curled up at her feet, his tail flicking lazily through the leaves that cover the ground.

Then his foot comes down on a twig with a sharp snap, and Rudi’s head shoots up. Sol is on his feet at once, teeth bared and every hair in his mane standing on end.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Edér says, holding up his hands and giving the big cat a grin. “It’s just me.”

The lion only snarls in response, not relaxing until Rudi lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sol.” She stands, stretching out her arms as she does, and turns to give Edér a weak smile. “Checking up on me now? Sorry, I guess I lost track of time out here.”

Her tone is casual and unworried, but it doesn’t match up to her appearance. She just looks so damn tired- bags under her eyes, unsteady on her feet, and a half-hearted grin that just doesn’t quite do the job. “Now, I know it ain’t polite to comments on a lady’s appearance,” Edér says, keeping his tone light, “But did you get a wink of sleep last night?”

He’s hoping to draw a laugh out of her- and normally he might have- but today Rudi’s mood instantly shifts, her eyes narrowing and her mouth setting into a hard line. It’s the same look she gets when she’s deciding whether to shoot something or not, and if she weren’t looking too exhausted to aim straight Edér might consider hiding behind a tree. Eventually she settles for crossing her arms and fixing Edér with a stern look. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need sleep. I need to hunt down Thaos before…”

She stops and looks away, blinking hard and lifting a hand to her temple. The moment passes quickly, and then she’s pushing past Edér with a scowl. “Let’s just get going.”

“Whoa, there,” Edér says, putting a hand on her shoulder as she passes. “You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, pulling away.

“Right. You’re actin’ exactly a person who’s fine.”

Rudi turns her glare on him again, to which Edér only raises an eyebrow. And then the fight goes out of her, just as suddenly as it came, and her shoulders slump as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine, yes, I got some sleep. For all the good it did.”

 “What does that mean?”

“I had…dreams.” Rudi looks down and kicks at the dirt. “Memories, I guess, I don’t know. And then I woke up and I didn’t even know where I was, I just kept thinking I had to find…someone. Like it was the most important thing in the world that I find her right away.”

Watcher stuff, Edér thinks, worry sinking into his stomach. He knows Rudi’s been having nightmares and visions and a whole mess of strange stuff. But he’s been hoping it’s the sort of the thing to get better with time, not worse. “Who were looking for?”

Rudi shrugs, but her eyes flicker upward, and for a moment they flash as Rudi stares at something that isn’t there. “Iovara.” She speaks the name heavily, as if each syllable carries an unfathomable weight.

Rudi goes silent then, until Edér finally has to ask, “Who’s that?”

The questions breaks her from her reverie, and she scowls and throws her hands into the air. “I don’t know!!”  she exclaims, turning to pace in a circle. “I just had to find her, and I started moving- with no idea where I was or why I was here- and then Sol came up to me and for a split second I was scared. Of Sol. Like I didn’t even know who he was.”

Her voice gets thick, and she stops to take a breath, sinking once again to the ground with her back against the tree. Sol watches her with concern, and approaches to nuzzle against her shoulder. A small, sad smile creeps onto her face as she runs a hand through his mane.

As Edér watches the two of them, it occurs to him that he’s never actually seen them separated. Sol sleeps at Rudi’s bedside, shares her meals, even sit next to her in the receiving hall at Caed Nua. For Rudi to not even recognize him, even for a second…he can’t imagine it.

And apparently she can’t, either.

Eventually, Rudi recovers herself enough to continue. “After that,  I guess I just…woke up. I remembered who I was, and the other memories went away but I…gods, Edér, I couldn’t go to sleep again. I couldn’t risk going away like that.” She closes her eyes, her hands trembling as they continue to stroke Sol’s mane. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself. But what am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?”

It’s a big question, that’s for sure. And yet to Edér, the answer is immediate and obvious.

“You trust us, of course.”

Whatever Rudi is expecting, apparently that isn’t it. She blinks, looking up at Edér in silence, and he takes advantage of her surprise to continue. “Hey, I know you haven’t really known us all that long. But you know we’re your friends, right?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not Durance. I wouldn’t put much trust in him. But me and Sagani and everyone else- we got your back.”

He bends over and holds his hand out to Rudi. “We’re gonna look out for you, and we’re gonna find this Leaden Key guy, and we’re gonna put you right as rain again. So don’t worry too much about bad dreams and memories and such.”

Rudi hesitates, watching Edér with unveiled skepticism. “And if I forget again?”

He shrugs. “Bucket of cold water. It’s a cure-all, and I bet anything it’ll wake you right back up.”

Rudi regards him for a moment, then snorts as she takes his hand, letting him pull her up. When she’s on her feet again, she shakes her head and punches him in the arm. “That’s your first instinct? Really?”

“It’s an incentive, too,” Edér answers with a grin. “Keeps you on your toes.”

“Ass,” she says, but she’s laughing, and the tensions seems to have left her shoulders. She still looks exhausted, and maybe still a little worried…but she also looks much more like the Rudi Edér knows so well.

“Alright, let’s get back. For real this time.” She starts walking in the directions of the camp, rubbing your back and groaning as she goes. “Gods, I’m too old to be staying up all night. And we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Edér grins, falling into step beside her. “Bet you could convince Maneha to carry you for a while.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. First good idea you’ve had all day.” She continues like that, talking and making jokes as they approach the campsite, Sol padding quietly at her side. Just before they arrive in sight of the others, however, she pauses and glances at Edér from the corner of her eye.

“Thanks, by the way,” she says hurriedly, as if embarrassed by the words. “I do trust you, you know. I haven’t had someone like that for a long time, but…you’re a good friend.”

Edér nods- of course he knows. ‘Cause Rudi’s his friend, too- probably the best one he’s had since his brother- and looking out for each other is just what friends do.

[mar1garden]

going batty part 18

masterpost

hm. did i make this akuma just so i could make jokes about hunka hunka burning love? mayhaps. a lady doesnt make awful puns and tell, you know.

Marinette cried out as a stream of lava blasted towards her. She leaped out of the way, catching her yoyo on a nearby lamppost to swing high. She flipped and swung as Ch- the akuma blasted her again and again. Each time, his glow dimmed. Damian, still on the roof, was observing her tensely. He was watching the akuma for any hint of weakness, any way to defeat him. 

When there was a break between the lava blasts, Ladybug swung out with her yoyo, cutting through his middle. It was slow, like cutting through sludge. His body put itself back together in the wake of her incision, and she growled quietly to herself. She’d need to find some other way to slow him down, at least.

The akuma laughed. “Oh dear, it’s been a whole round of fighting and I’ve yet to introduce myself!” His eyes narrowed as he swiped at Ladybug. “How rude of me.” The akuma momentarily paused in his actions to draw himself up to his full height, a splash of lava rising behind him for dramatic effect. “I am Heatache. You don’t deserve it for what you’ve done, My Lady, but you will nonetheless have the honor of dying by my hand.” A grin cut its way across his face, glowing like a jackolantern. “Congratulations.”

“I think I’m gonna have to pass on that one, burning love.” With a scoff, she threw her yoyo and caught the end when it came back to her, forming a loop around his arm. With a hard pull and a sickly thump, she cut his arm off. As a swath of lava lit a bridge between the two severed ends, Ladybug retreated to the roof next to Damian.

“Okay. What do we have so far?” she asked him, keeping an eye on Heatache as he paced the street. He was no longer floating, she noted. He had left scorched footprints on the street. He did seem to be cooling down, his glow fading. As he did, he returned to floating and headed off towards the Eiffel Tower.

“As you just saw, he can only float when his lava is cooled. Otherwise, he’s subject to the laws of gravity. When the wind picked up a minute ago, it left a cool spot on his side and another on his leg. He protected those spots more when fighting you; I think if he’s cooled by outside sources he’s more fragile. Cutting off limbs seems more inconvenient than harmful, so I think that route isn’t our best option. His fighting style is clunky; he isn’t used to the weight, I’d bet, so just be quicker than him and you can take him down with your agility. There’s a line of lava rocks on his left hip which never glowed at all; I’d bet my arm that’s where the akuma is hiding.” Damian delivered this information with a mildly concerned coolness, which Marinette appreciated. 

“So our best course of action is to cool him down and use our superior agility to hit his hip? Sounds like this calls for a Lucky Charm!” As she spoke the command words, a burst of magic manifested above her. A red and black spotted cork fell into her hands. She blinked, bewildered. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

She looked around, but nothing popped up. She scowled. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever I need isn’t here. We’re going to see if he’s still at the Eiffel Tower. If not, we keep looking, yeah?” Damian nodded, following her lead as she swung towards the monument. 

It turns out, they needn’t have worried about Heatache having moved on. He was standing at the base of the tower, melting one of the legs. It had begun to tip, and he looked bigger than he had been before. As she looked around the scene, Ladybug’s vision stuck on a half-crushed barrel, an abandoned drink vendor’s cart, her cork, her yoyo, a skewer, and the Eiffel Tower. She grinned.

“You’re on distraction duty. Keep him busy even if he goes for me, yeah?” Damian nodded, dashing towards Heatache with his staff drawn. The akuma growled, flaring up instantly. 

“Really, My Lady? The wounds haven’t stopped bleeding and you’re already replacing me? That’s low, even for you.” Ladybug ignored his goading, setting up her trap. Heatache quickly lost focus on her in the midst of Damian’s flurry of blows. The boy switched between using his staff as if it were a bo staff and using its nunchuck form. At one point, he realized he could both extend it and snap it to create kali sticks. 

Turns out, even lava monsters are weak to being clocked on the head. Damian adapted to changing the forms of his staff with impressive speed, knocking Heatache off his feet a few times during the fight. Each time, he simply grew new ones instead of melding the old ones back on. There was no lack of banter, but Damain didn’t give in to the villain’s goading. He stood firm, refusing to rile up his opponent. If your enemy’s anger is their power source, why would you willingly make them angrier?

Eventually, Ladybug signaled to Damian from her place in the rafters of the tower. She pointed to a circle of rope on the ground and then Heatache. Damian nodded his understanding and began to coax the burning villain towards the circle. Ladybug hopped down and joined the fight as well. The moment his foot landed in the circle, the rope pulled taught and then fell loose, the cork at the end hitting him in the head just in time to make him look up.

A tidal wave of sugary, ice cold soft drinks cascaded down on him. Much of it evaporated in a cloud of sweet smelling steam, but it left a damp, darkened Heatache behind it. Ladybug leaped while he was still in shock, hitting the outcropping on his hip with her yoyo. A chunk snapped off and the akuma fluttered out.

When the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had been cast, reporters began swarming the scene. Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, had just been akumatized. On top of that, there was a new black cat, and Adrien had seemingly been the old Chat Noir. What reporter worth their salt wouldn’t show up?

Setting Damian on ‘scaring away reporters’ duty, Ladybug walked up to Adrien. He was still sitting on the ground, anger, sadness, and confusion wrestling on his face. Ladybug scowled at him as she approached.

“I’m not going to comfort you. Your actions, as Chat Noir and during our confrontation, were wrong. You were in the wrong. You need to critically think about your actions and assess them for even one minute. But you didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of by Hawkmoth, and your actions during the fight were not your own. Neither I nor the city of Paris will blame you for your akumatized self’s actions. Use this as a learning opportunity.” With that, she left, joining Damian in front of the only remaining reporter. 

When she ended up next to him, she was only semi surprised to see him chatting with Alya. The disdain in his voice was mostly masked, which was nice of him. 

Alya turned and smiled at her when she walked up. “So, Ladybug, gonna give us the scoop on your new partner or what? He’s been tightlipped against all of my questions, so I was hoping you might have some answers for me.”

Ladybug grinned. “Well, I don’t even know his name. The battle took precedent.” Damian huffed out a laugh next to her.

“That one, I can answer. I’m Chevalier Nuit.” Ladybug’s earrings beeped. Damian laughed once more. “Right on time. Care to head out, Angel?” She giggled back at him and took his hand in answer. The two of them swung back to the bakery, matching grins across their faces.

taglist (closed): @bi-bi-papillon @fiendsangelical @copicmarkersniffers @kittycatwowmeow @fristi37 @mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law@myblacknightworld @magica-est-in-aerem @sassy-spocko @noirdots @captainmac6 @meep-by-boredom @shaismall @ladybug-182 @rikku052 @wisegirlrose @corabeth11 @dramatic-squirrel @mlbchaosqueen @kristycocopop @zalladane @fertileleaf @echpr @pr-y-sha @bigpicklebananatree @simplysslytherin @nixadmos @mandy984 @bluerosette23 @jardimazul @ladylucina28 @elmokingkong @emjrabbitwolf @lozzybowe @erick-rose99-stuff @finallyaniguana @renscorpio @littleacecutie

[katehuntington]

Title: All I Want - part three Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (Bobby Singer, Castiel Mary Winchester and many more mentioned) Pairing: Dean x Reader Series summary: Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than Lucifer himself. Summary part three: Still in shock after Y/N’s unexpected return, the Winchesters fill her in on what has happened in the past ten years. Learning about all the ones they have lost, is a little too much for her to take in. Warnings part three: NSFW, 18+ only. Spoilers season 14 episode 13. Angst, fluff. Swearing, alcoholism. Descriptions of flashbacks and memories. Mentions of character death, time in Hell, torture and nightmares. Anxiety, grieving over lost loved one. Confusion that comes with time travel. Word Count: 5377 words Author’s note: Part three of a multi part miniseries, based on the 300th episode “Lebanon”. Beta’d by the lovely @kittenofdoomage​, @winchest09​, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​, and @thinkwritexpress-official​​. Thank you all so much for your feedback!

All I Want Masterlist

     “So, long story short,” Y/N summarizes, “Sam jumped into the pit with Lucifer riding piggyback, Cas pulled him out but forgot his soul. There was a civil war in Heaven. Cas declared himself God and released the Leviathan and when those ugly suckers were defeated, our angel buddy and you--” she nods at Dean, “- got sucked into Purgatory, which is a place that actually exists, apparently.”

     They are in the kitchen, seated at the four-person table. The hunters raided the liquor cabinet, all in need of a drink after the rather unexpected and staggering turn of events.      Y/N takes a shot of whiskey and puts the tumbler down on the varnished wood with a bang, shoving it across and motioning the older Winchester for a refill.

     “Meanwhile, Sam hit a dog and you escaped Purgatory, but Cas didn’t. Then there was this whole deal with the tablets and the trials, which almost killed your brother. You let an angel - who actually turned out to be a different angel - possess Sam in order to save him. There’s a second civil war upstairs…” She knocks back her head, downing the glass in one go. “I mean, what is it with those halo idiots? Haven’t they learned anything from watching humanity slaughter each other for centuries?”      “Y/N, I know this is a lot, but you need to slow down a bit,” Dean advises, but she snatches the bottle from his hand and pours herself another.      “I’m nowhere near done. Where was I?” She looks up at the ceiling of the kitchen for a second while thinking, until it comes to her. “Oh, right! The angels fell, you took on the Mark of Cain, beat that Knight of Hell chick Abaddon, then got yourself killed. Again. But, oh wait, it gets better! You woke up a demon and had a fun summer with Crowley.”      Her voice pitches a little higher, a hint of panic audible now. Dean watches her process the information which is so clearly overwhelming her and eyes Sam, who is fixing her something quick to eat behind the kitchen counter. Their gazes lock on each other, both men wondering in silence if telling her the whole truth was a good idea.

     “Sam cured you, but you still carried the Mark. You killed Death.” She laughs, cynically. “I mean, c’mon! Death! It’s ironic to say the least. Anyway, the Darkness was released, which - I kid you not - is God’s sister. Oh, and God? Turns out that horrible tween girl novel writer Chuck is actually the almighty creator! Ha!”      “Why don’t you eat something? You’re probably hungry,” Sam suggests, putting down a plate in front of her.      But Y/N isn’t interested in the sandwich and instead picks up her crystal glass again, having another royal amount of the brown liquor. Holding the tumbler to her lips while letting the whiskey linger in her mouth, she points her index finger at the younger Winchester now, who sits down opposite of the woman from their past.

     “Your mom is back from the dead, the British Men of Letters turned out to be stuck up dicks. Lucifer was sprung from the cage, became President of the United States, and knocked up an intern. He had a son, his name is Jack. How am I doing so far?” she rants, setting down the empty glass in front of her.      Dean looks at her, a worried frown drawing lines on his forehead. He knows her well enough to sense she needs to blow off steam. Interrupting her might not be his best move, but that doesn’t stop him from growing concerned about her current state of mind.

     “There was a rift between our world and this - this Apocalypse world, you called it? And Mary and Lucifer ended up on the wrong side before it closed. Luci killed Cas, Dean was sad, Cas came back. You guys went on a rescue mission, Sam got killed. Again!” She sighs deeply, burying her face in her crossed arms on the table. “Seriously, the amount of times you two have died is giving me a fucking headache.”      “Yeah, sorry about that,” Sam says, shooting her a sheepish smile before she continues.

     “So Apocalypse!Michael possessed you in order to kill the Devil once and for all.” She looks up again, focusing on Dean. “But he didn’t check out like he promised - shocker, by the way. He wreaked havoc here, then out of the blue let you go. And now you guys live here in this Men of Letters bunker with a Nephilim, an angel and your undead mother.”      “That’s about right,” Dean confirms.      Y/N lets a breath slip from her lips and stares past him absently, the gears in her head still on overdrive.      “I need another drink,” she eventually mutters, not even bothering filling up her tumbler, but taking a swig directly from the bottle.      When she sets it back on the table top and lets her fingers slip from the glass, Sam is quick to get up and take the bottle back to the kitchen, putting it away in one of the cabinets; she has had enough for one day.      “And I died…”

     The younger Winchester turns around and leans over the counter while observing his friend, his knuckles white on the surface. He studies the breadcrumbs that litter the stainless steel surface after he cut her sandwich in two, having difficulty addressing that topic. When Lucifer flung her into that wall with such magnitude that it killed her instantly, Dean lost the woman he loved, but Sam lost his best friend. He didn’t realize how he felt about her demise until after he got his soul back, which somehow made it even worse. Like he didn’t do her justice, didn’t mourn like he should have. He doesn’t have to reply to her words, though, because Dean beats him to it.      “On May 10, 2010,” he states, averting his gaze and focusing on his folded hands in front of him, still wrapped around his own whiskey glass.      The date is forever etched in his memory. Her mirage haunts him on a regular basis, but on the 10th of May she’s all he can think about, like a fog that refuses to lift at daybreak. It’s one of the hardest days to get through, the day that he misses her the most. Dean’s jaw flexes and he tries to swallow down the pressure that’s gradually building in his chest.

     “That’s - that’s in a year and a half,” Y/N stammers, after quick calculation. “At least in whatever time I’m from.”      “Yeah, just before the big title fight between the Archangels,” Sam confirms.      Y/N glances up at him, then back at Dean, who still can’t force himself to look at her.      “Who killed me?”      “Lucifer,” Dean recalls, venom in his voice.      Her brow lifts up at the reveal. She was killed by the Devil himself? Well, at least that would make a cool inscription on her tombstone.      “You guys salted and burned me, right?” she double checks, even though she cannot imagine the Winchesters giving her anything but a hunter’s farewell.      Dean pulls at his lip with his teeth, the memory of the burning pyre flashing before his eyes. He remembers it as if it was yesterday. The funeral that made sure her death would be irreversible, permanent. The sight of her body set alight. In order to stop the Apocalypse from happening, he lost his brother and his girl. Sam was suffering endless and horrific torture in the pits of Hell while she was going up in flames before his eyes. God, he was a mess. His brother came home, but looking back now, deep down Dean knows he never really recovered from losing the woman who will forever have his heart.      “I did,” he confirms.      I did, he said. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes Sam was gone too at this point; Dean didn’t even have his brother to lean on. Pitiful she watches the hunter, who has endured so much already. He lost the two most important people in his life in a day’s time.      “Then… how am I back?” she wonders. “You said something about summoning me?”      “We found a magical artifact called the Pearl of Baozhu. It grants your biggest wish, basically,” Sam begins to explain. “Apparently, it’s so powerful it doesn’t need remains to resurrect someone.”      “And I am your biggest wish?” She chuckles. “What? Not winning the lottery? Peace on Earth?”      A small smirk pulls at the corner of Dean’s mouth; oh, he missed her wit.      “No, it’s you,” he states after a moment of quiet, finally meeting her gaze.

     Astonishment silences her as she stares at him, the pain of having to go through life without her still evident in his eyes. He looks so much wearier than she remembers the tough hunter, the soldier who always marched on and kept grinding. Even after he came back from Hell, the experience that tore open wounds which bled even worse than those inflicted the night the hellhounds took him. Honestly, there were plenty of times she thought he would never recover, whenever he woke up screaming from another nightmare and she had to hold him until he calmed. And yet, he didn’t seem as burdened as he does now, and that is saying something. It’s as if time broke him down bit by bit as he grew older, until there was nothing left but a ruin. 

     Dean said it’s 2019, which means he’s forty years old now. His frown lines lay deeper, so do the crow’s feet by the corner of his eyes. There’s a scar on his chin that wasn’t there before, covered by his stubble. His hair is a little longer, but only by a quarter of an inch. Age has not done a number on him, because he’s still handsome, but trauma and loss surely have. Knowing that her own death had a substantial part in the neverending sorrow and guilt she knows the hunter carries breaks her heart, because if anything, she would never want to cause him such agony.

     “We were together,” she says, ending the silence. 

     It’s more a realization than it is a question, but Dean nods either way. Her jaw lowers slightly, her mouth opening, but she has no idea what to say. She was frightened when she heard she was on a collision course with death. But now she’s made aware that her future self and Dean are going to face evil as one hell of a power couple, that fear diminishes. She was a teenager when she first started developing feelings for the oldest Winchester brother. She never acted on it, the hunter’s life always getting in the way of their romance. But somehow, despite destiny, despite the horror show that is their reality, they found their way to each other. 

     Seeing just how much her departure wrecked him, she reaches out, moving her hand across the table to take his. She squeezes softly, running her thumb over his skin, rough from the many fights he’s faced. He visibly relaxes, cherishing the moment he never thought he’d have again.      Y/N forces herself to avert her eyes, aware they aren’t alone. She glances at Sam, who watches the two, smiling, but his content expression dissolves when she inadvertently turns the conversation in a harrowing direction.      “What about the others? How’s Bobby?” she wonders, oblivious to the painful reply that is to come.

     Dean’s face falls, closing his eyes in apprehension. Shit, he wishes he didn’t have to break the bad news to her. Bobby Singer was like a father to all of them, but Y/N spent the majority of her childhood under his wing. After her parents died, he took her in and raised her as his own, made sure she could go to school, that she could be a kid. Hell, he was her father, maybe not genetically, but he was the wise man who taught them that family doesn’t end in blood.

     Sam stares back at her, then swallows thickly, letting his head hang. Analyzing his stance, the smile on her lips dies down, frantically searching for an indication that says it isn’t so. When the tall hunter is unable to return her gaze, she fixates on Dean, tears already glazing over her eyes.      “Y/N...” He takes her hand in his now, trying to sooth her and cushion the blow, but he knows there’s nothing he can do that would take the pain away that is about to hit her like a freight train.      “No...” She shakes her head, unable to accept it. “No no no no...”      “I’m so sorry,” he says softly, his heart breaking as he breaks hers. 

     Her bottom lip begins to tremble, her face contorting as she fights the emotions that quickly overpower her. Shimmering pathways of anguish find their way down her cheeks, eventually falling to land on the wooden surface. Y/N wipes her cheeks dry, but it’s no use, new tears forming faster than she can erase. And so she brings her free hand up to cover her mouth, holding back a sob.      “W-when?” she stammers, her voice shaking. “How?”      “In 2012. He... he was shot,” Dean explains, trying to get the words across as gingerly as possible.

     She shuts her eyes now, her throat closing up and she bites her bottom lip, trying her hardest not to break down in front of the boys. She has so many questions of which the answers terrify her.      “Did he die alone?”      She barely dares to look up again, meeting Sam’s gaze this time. He shakes his head, offering her a comforting smile.      “No, we were right there with him,” he assures.      “He’s in Heaven,” Dean consoles, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. “Cas double checked.”

     Y/N nods slightly, sniffling as she digests the news. Knowing that he’s in a good place right now doesn’t stop the grief from tearing her apart, because she has no idea how to go through life without her mentor to council her, but at least he’s not suffering anymore. A shuddering breath escapes from her lungs as she collects herself.      “What killed him, is it--”      “- dead. Yeah, we made sure of that,” Dean guarantees.      “Good,” she says, her voice having gained some strength. “What about Rufus? Ellen & Jo?”      Sam sighs and looks down, painfully confronted with how many people they’ve lost over the years.      “They’re all gone,” he states, still leaning heavily on the countertop.      Shocked, Y/N stares at him, unable to believe how many have perished.      “So, of the original crew, you two are really the last ones standing, huh?”      “Yeah, I guess we are,” the younger brother confirms. “But we met some great people along the way, I’m sure they’ll be excited to meet you. We’re not fighting the good fight alone, by any means.”      “Glad to hear that. Just, not today? I’m not sure how much more I can take,” she almost pleads, her voice raspy from crying.

     Dean watches her closely, guilt constricting in his gut. Unknowingly, he has pulled her from a time where things weren’t all that bad. If she’s from October 2008, he has just returned from Hell. Bobby was alive, Sam was okay, so were the other people she considered family. They were growing closer, on the verge of giving in to the attraction they felt for each other. But now it’s just the three of them and a ten year gap between her lifetime and theirs. She must be feeling completely out of place, disorientated, exhausted.      “Why don’t we go pick out a room for you, so you can lay down for a bit?” Dean offers, squeezing her hand gently to get her attention.      She agrees and gets up from her seat without another word, mentally too tired to argue. The alcohol is coursing through her system, and although she doesn’t feel highly intoxicated, combined with the range of emotions she just went through, it’s doing a number on her. Honestly, she’s down for a nap, preferably one that lasts a day or two.      Dean lets her go up the two steps first, ready to catch her might her coordination fail her after all. He glances over his shoulder at his brother, who picks up the untouched sandwich and carries the plate to the sink.      “Go ahead, I’ll clean up,” Sam offers.      Thankful, the older Winchester forces a small smile before he leaves the kitchen. 

     Quietly, Y/N follows the broad shouldered hunter who leads the way, her arms crossed in front of her chest, the coolness from the stone walls chasing chills up and down her spine. It’s not just the cold, though, it’s everything. Too much information to process, too much heartbreak to endure. Her brain is overloaded, fatigue hitting her like a ton of bricks.      She watches Dean turn the corner and stroll into a long hallway with doors on either side, gold plated numbers below the Men Of Letters emblem. They stop in front of room 12.      “You can take this one,” he suggests, opening the door for her and flicking on the lights. “I’m right next door if you need anything. Sam’s in room 21.”

     Y/N steps inside, taking in her new accommodation. Despite the use of mostly brick and concrete and the lack of windows, the glow coming from the ceiling light and the lamp on the nightstand feels warm and welcoming. A large mahogany bed is situated against the far end, a matching desk on the left with an old typewriter and a radio sitting on top. Directly behind the door there’s a sink and a medicine cabinet with a mirror on the lid, and a wardrobe next to it.      “We can put a rug on the floor, if you want. I remember how you always had cold feet,” Dean suggests.      She turns in the middle of the room, a small smile on her lips; he’s not wrong.      “I’d like that,” she says, grateful.

     A little uneasy she lets her gaze linger over the still empty cabinets and bookshelves again, feeling foreign in this future that didn’t include her, before Dean wished she was. She realizes there’s nothing to fill them with, no clothes, no books, no picture frames.      “Could I maybe borrow a shirt and some sweats from you? I’m gonna have to buy some new clothes later today,” she asks, a little flustered.      “Sure, but actually, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck, the way he always does when he’s nervous. “I never threw away your stuff. It’s been in boxes in the storage room, so your clothes are probably gonna need to be washed--”      “- Wait, you… you saved my stuff?”

     She stares at him in awe. It’s been almost ten years since she died, and he still held on to all that she owned. Sure, it wasn’t much, since they were on the road most of the time, but still. They didn’t find this bunker until a couple of years later, which means Dean had stored it in a locker somewhere, or maybe at Bobby’s, and picked it up again when they found a permanent home. He had moved her things around for almost a decade, yet never threw them out, even though he knew there was no purpose left for the items that once belonged to her. Just painful reminders of what was and what was lost.      “Yeah, I - I couldn’t really bring myself to throw it out,” he claims, as if he was dodging a task that should have been done long ago.      He isn’t lying. Even though he knew she was never going to return to him, that her life was lost and his love was hopeless, he kept everything she held dear. Her books, her mixtapes, her photos, her jewelry. The clothes she wore, the guitar she played. The stack of coasters she collected, picking one up at every bar they ever had a drink at, from every town they ever crossed. The old school Polaroid camera she brought everywhere, snapping pictures of everything that caught her eye along the way. Sunsets, funny road signs, captivating landscapes, interesting people. There are a few of him, of the Winchesters together, some more portraying the three of them, all squeezed into the shot. She even caught Bobby on camera, ignoring his grumpy mutters when she had fulfilled her seemingly impossible mission.      There’s the music box she got from her mother when she was little, her parents’ wedding album. Lore books, weapons and crystals that Bobby gave her when she first started hunting. The enchanted good luck charm Dean gave her for her birthday. He held on to it all, because he couldn’t bear the thought of having to let her go completely.

     Sympathetically, Y/N observes him. His tough exterior only lets a hint of embarrassment over something so sentimental seep through. But she knows him, she has seen the knight without his armor. She knows how badly he’s hurting.      “Anyway, I’ll - uh, get you some clean clothes and dig up your stuff from storage.” He points his thumb over his shoulder a little awkwardly, excusing himself.      She nods. “Thanks.”

     With a faint smile on his lips he disappears, leaving the door ajar. Y/N breathes in deeply and allows the air to flow out, trying to calm herself down. It’s her first moment alone since she found herself in the year of 2019 and she cannot begin to comprehend what is happening to her. How she time-jumped a decade into the future, having history with Dean she cannot even recall. It feels like she’s in a bad daytime television show, where one of the characters has hit her head too hard and suffers from amnesia, not remembering her lover.      Rubbing her forehead she turns around, trying to massage away the headache. Her eyes glide through her new bedroom again. This is going to be her home now. After moving out of Bobby’s place, she never really had that kind of stability. The closest she came to a roof over her head was her minivan, her little house on wheels. 

     Fingertips grace the covers of her bed, the material soft under her touch, when she hears Dean’s boots echo in the hall. She turns around as he comes through the doorway, holding two boxes with a bundle of clothes laying on top of the stack in his arms. He lowers the neatly taped carton containers to the ground, her name written on them with black marker. Dean made sure to file on the label what’s inside them.      “There’s one more box, your clothes are in that one. I can put them in the washer now, so you’ll have something better to wear than my oversized stuff,” he offers.      “You don’t have to do that, Dean,” she objects, but he shrugs it off.      “It’s no problem.”      His voice is kind, but he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. It’s the first time he has moved her belongings without having to fight the tears, without having to pause in order to stop himself from breaking down. He wants to make sure she has something clean and fresh to wear when she wakes up later, finally being able to take care of her again. 

     Dean turns the corner and heads to the storage room, his heart finally calming with the simplicity of being able to do something as domestic as washing her clothes. After picking up the last big box, he exits the storage and pulls the door shut behind him, making his way to the dorm where the washers and dryers are situated. He sets the box down in front of one of the machines, pulls his pocket knife from his belt and cuts through the duct tape. The first item he pulls out, however, steals his breath; it’s the leather jacket she wore that night in Detroit.      Two days after they lost her, Dean wrapped her in linen before he laid her down on the pyre he and Bobby built, her lifeless body still in the jeans and band shirt she had on when she was killed. He took off her favorite black leather jacket, though, wanting to preserve it, even though it was a part of Y/N - or maybe because it was. Traces of faded crimson still stain the collar. Dean shakes his head, trying to ban the image from his mind. The image of the blood running from her nose and mouth as she hung from his arms, dead weight, the spark of life in her eyes long gone.

     After a deep breath, the hunter collects himself and lays the leather jacket aside, then begins to carefully pick out some of her clothes. He makes a selection that fits in the drum, adds a laundry pod and turns the machine on. He hopes the old thing does a better job at washing away the memory of her death than he’s doing.

     When he enters Y/N’s room again, she has changed into the black shirt and grey sweatpants he offered her. She spins when she hears him, an amused grin adorning her face.      “Nice socks,” she chuckles, showing off her novelty footwear with burgers and milkshakes on them.      “Shut up. Sammy gave them to me for Christmas,” he utters, a blush on his cheeks. “Your stuff’s in the washer.”      “Thank you,” she returns, grateful.

     A silence followers as Dean lingers in the doorway. This would be the moment to give her some space and retreat to his room, but somehow he can’t make himself step outside. He has spent too much time without her by his side already, he doesn’t want to waste a second not being with the woman he’s still unmistakingly in love with. She’s his girl, afterall. But that’s where it gets confusing, because he’s not sure how she feels about all this. Y/N was zapped from a time where they weren’t in a relationship yet, so where do they stand in this messed up mayhem?      “Y/N, about that kiss earlier…” he starts off hesitant. “I, uh - I didn’t know you were from a place where we weren’t… y’know, together.”

     The smile on her lips dies down as she watches the hunter, skilled in the field when fighting evil, but now stumbling over his own words. It’s only now that she realizes how surreal this must be for him. His mind probably has archives full of memories she has no clue of, simply because in her time, they didn’t happen yet.      “What I’m trying to say is…” Dean takes a breath, trying to get his message across. “If I came on too strong, or made you feel uncomfortable in any way, I’m sorry.”      He glances up now, watching how she slowly approaches. Gently, she takes his hand in hers, their fingers entwining. After studying their hold for a few seconds, she tilts her head and restores eye contact. The look she gives him is so warm and kind, it mends the broken man that he is.      “I’m not,” she responds, her voice soft.

     She leans in, tiptoeing, and presses her soft lips against his. For a good moment all his grief, the endless regret, the physical pain that became chronic, is forgotten. He closes his eyes and melts into the touch, returning the kiss without hesitation. The voices in his head are silenced, his anxiety calmed. After eight years, eight months and twenty eight days, he has found his missing piece. If her departure from his world didn’t make him realize how much he loves her, this moment surely does.

     The kiss lasts a few heavenly long seconds, but then Dean parts from her, resting his forehead against hers. He sighs deeply, the air leaving him with a shudder. Still high on the ecstasy that the undeniable connection induced, she opens her eyes, but his remain closed. Wondering why, Y/N squeezes his hand. When he does look back at her, the tears bring out his green irises, like holding an emerald gem against the light. Compassionate, she cups his face, tracing the lines of his jaw.      “You really missed me, didn’t you?” she perceives.      He huffs; she’s putting it mildly.      “You have no idea,” he breathes.

     Y/N does, though. Last thing she remembers is how Dean just returned from Hell. In the four months that he was gone, she was completely at a loss. Wildflowers blossomed on his grave from her tears alone. Knowing he was enduring unimaginable torment only made it worse. But when he returned and she was able to close him in her arms again, it magnified everything she had ever felt for the man who went to Hell and back. The rollercoaster he’s riding now is one she’s been on herself, but she doesn’t tell him that; it’s not about her right now.

     She kisses him again, shorter and more sweetly now, smiling at him afterwards until he returns her expression. His eyes are still shimmering, but it’s not sorrow she finds in the depth of his pupils, not anymore. It’s gratefulness, appreciation, love, for her, the girl he lost so many years ago.      “You should get some sleep. You had one hell of a morning,” he says after a quiet moment, unable to look away.      She scoffs. “Understatement of the week.”      He nods grinning, admitting she’s probably right.      “I’ll leave you to it.”      Dean is about to let go of her hand, when her grip on him grows a little stronger, causing him to glance up at her, questioning.      “Could you…” she pauses, not sure if she’s asking too much. “Could you lay with me, just for a while?”      He reads her carefully, pained to see the hint of fear; she doesn’t want to be alone.      “Sure,” he agrees, the single word soothing her.

     Y/N allows his hand to slip from hers now and circles the bed, folding back the covers as Dean sits down to take off his shoes. When he leans back into the pillow, his upper body still slightly elevated against the headboard, tiredness overwhelms him. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in forever, Michael always waiting in the shadows when he dares to close his eyes. But when Y/N crawls into his chest, filling the vacant place that has been cold for so long, he sighs content, letting the worry fall from his shoulders. Who knows, maybe with her by his side, he might actually be able to rest.

     She pulls the sheets to cover the both of them, feeling Dean’s sheltering arm wrap around her and pull her in. The kiss he presses to her hair has her bite back the tears yet again. She tries to hide it, not wanting to come across as weak or emotional. The man who has always cared for her, doesn’t fail to notice, though.      “Hey…” he says, softly. “You had a lot on your plate today, huh?”      She sniffles and nods, not brave enough to test her voice.      “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll figure this out,” he promises. “You got me, Y/N.”      “Yeah…” she whispers. “I got you.”

     Dean holds her close, giving her the security and the comfort she is desperately seeking, hoping she might forget about the world she’s in now and the one she was ripped from. Absently, he rubs his fingers up and down her arm, the slow, soothing rhythm lulling her to sleep. Within minutes she’s out, the warmth she radiates slowly melting away the tension in the hunter’s stiff muscles, tired and worn from endless battles with both monsters and himself. Exhausted, he lets his cheek rest against the top of her head, allowing his own eyes to flutter shut as well. The last thing that crosses his mind before he falls asleep is a promise. Past, present, or future, Dean will always be there for the woman who makes him believe in their little slice of apple pie life. A decade of time difference will not change his word of honor.

It took me long enough, didn’t it! Stay tuned for part four, I hope I have gained some momentum now and will able to finish this series sooner than later.

Anyway, thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

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[fancuries]

Nominee Spotlight: Happily Ever After! Fairytale Pretty Cure

Happily Ever After! Fairytale Pretty Cure was nominated for multiple awards at the 2020 Fancuries. Here’s what the creator Imagination has to say:

Welcome to my Fancuries Spotlight Post!! I was genuinely surprised and super happy to find out that I was nominated for a handful of categories. I spent a full few minutes squealing in bed and doing a billion backflips in my mind out of pure joy, so thank you to those who nominated me! I’m very honored and grateful to be a part of the Fancuries.

Without further ado, I’ll be going a little more in depth on the categories I’ve been nominated in: Cutest Design for a Cure, Best Mascot Design, Chapter of the Year, and Ongoing Fanseries of the Year!

Cutest Design for a Cure: Cure Wonder

This is probably really cheesy, but, Cure Wonder was my first ever Cure I made and she holds a special place in my heart. Out of all my girls that I’ve designed so far, she’s the one who got the most redesigns. After so many tries, I’m finally satisfied with her design. Since she represents “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, my favorite fairytale of all time, I made sure to base her outfit off of Alice’s iconic outfit! Alice’s dress is honestly one of my favorites and it’s one of the cutest dresses that I’ve always wanted to wear. I looked at various versions of her dress, all while adding other cute aspects that screamed Wonderland and magical girl at the same time. I especially added lots of ruffles, bows, and laces; my favorite features to add when designing dresses! I‘m so happy people enjoy Wonder’s design! It’s honestly my favorite design that I’ve made to date.

Best Mascot Design: Usagi

I love this fluffy rabbit so much and I’m glad there’s others who love her too! When I was making Usagi, I already knew I wanted her to also be based off of “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. Since Wonder’s based off of Alice and her story, I wanted to base Usagi off of the White Rabbit. My favorite feature that I made for her is her heart butt. It’s honestly one of the cutest things about her to me and I can imagine her mischievously shaking her tail around and showing it off! I also made sure her design reflected her personality; adorable with a hint of mischief and sass. Hopefully I’ll redraw her some day, but the drawing of her that I have right now still fits her perfectly to this day.

~Chapter of the Year: HEAFTPC Chapter 1: A Curious Dream~

-Amino:

Part 1 of Chapter 1

Part 2 of Chapter 1

-AO3: Full Chapter

To whoever nominated this chapter, THANK YOU SO MUCH! I’m really happy chapter 1 of HEAFTPC was nominated- like, I’m honestly overjoyed. The first chapter took me so long to make because of how many events I wanted to happen within a single chapter. I realized that the original chapter would’ve taken WAY TOO long if I had kept everything from the beginning of Arisu waking up, to Arisu completing her first battle as Cure Wonder. Instead, I decided to make chapter 1 a small introduction to Arisu, the other characters, and the magical, whimsical adventure of HEAFTPC that’s soon to come. Despite how much I changed and edited, chapter 1 is still long, but, hopefully I can improve on my chapter lengths in the near future! Despite this, I love chapter 1 to this day! Once again, I’m super thankful that chapter 1 was nominated and that a lot of people enjoyed it for all of its fantastical chaos.

~Ongoing Fanseries of the Year: Happily Ever After! Fairytale Pretty Cure~

Secondary logo by Silver Nut!!

Amino Wiki

Fancure Paradise Wiki

Once again, I’m going to be a little cheesy here, but HEAFTPC is my series that I cherish so much! It’s my first ever fanseries and I’ve been developing it for almost 4 years, which is honestly insane. There’s honestly never a day that goes by where I don’t think about my fanseries. Originally, when I first started making HEAFTPC, I instantly knew I wanted to make my series about fairytales; a topic I’ve always been so passionate about since I was a little girl. It’s honestly what helped make me the person I am today, which is one of the reasons why I made this fanseries. HEAFTPC is basically a love letter to fairytales of all kinds, mixed in with enchanting, entertaining, and magical adventures that I come up with in my mind. Aside from fairytales, I also just love stories that have all kinds of fantastical, whimsical aspects to them, which is what I want to implement as much as possible into my series. There’s so many fairytales I could have made my girls represent, but I settled the team down to five stories; “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” (Very obvious lol), “Little Red Riding Hood”, “Cinderella”, “Thumbelina”, and “Snow White” in respective order of when each Cure debuts. I’m so thankful for my best friends and the users who have supported me on this crazy, amazing ride so far. I can’t wait to continue writing and drawing my heart out about these five girls and their many, incredible fairytale adventures!

Once again, thank you so much for nominating my fanseries and thank you for your consideration!

[greekowl87]

How about #8 on the dialogue prompts?

A/N: You never specified which #8 from that prompt list you wanted so I picked all of them :) Hope you enjoy it. P.S. No beta. Tagging @monikafilefan @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm

“#8.” No specification: “What are you talking about? You’re the only face with a view around here.” / We can’t do this.. anymore...you deserve someone better than me.” / “Stop biting your lip, you know that drives me crazy.” / “What are you wearing? you look like a llama ohh wait or is it an alpaca?”

Mulder’s back was turned to her as she sat on his bed. Somewhere off in the distance, Scully heard a rumble of thunder. Then there was a bolt of lightning. The rain started...first like one pebble against the window, then another, then a whole slew of them. Mulder grunted in his sleep. Scully licked her lips and adjusted the blanket around him. 

He still smelled like fire, ash, and lost hopes. Scully sighed and went to his bedroom window and watched the storm intensify like the one in her heart. She shivered; her gray sweater failing to keep the chilliness of his old Alexandria apartment at bay. Assuming he would not mind, she took a hooded Knick’s sweatshirt that hung on the back of his door. She glanced over her shoulder and wandered out into the living room.

Scully watched the storm continue from his desk in the light of the fish tank. Her watch read 1:00 am but felt like she had been awake for days. Her hazy mind swirled with the recent events...their work up in flames, clutching a numb Mulder to her, trying to coax him to get some sleep, staying with him. Then there was the matter of Diana Fowley. She tried not to let her mind go there.

Fowley helped Mulder find the x-files; Scully helped destroy them.

Gently, she probed the back of her neck, feeling the slightly raised scar that she implanted months ago. The miraculous cure that saved her from her cancer and that Mulder had saved her, almost losing himself in the process. Where did that leave them now? She began the year sick and dying of cancer, caused by her abduction, found a daughter that died that she never knew she had, all to lose it.

She hugged the worn sweatshirt around her. It smelled like him and made her remember the nights he would stay with her during the course of her cancer. She closed her eyes at the memory. She felt so confused, but after her cancer had been cured, she had some idea of where it could be headed...what they could be. But the maelstrom appeared in the siren Diana Fowley and had run their ship off course. Again.

The storm raged and Scully sighed.

She could just as easily leave...go home, leave him to his misery. He probably saw her as the destroyer of worlds and all that he believed. Scully winced, recalling seeing how Mulder so cozily held Fowley’s hand. There was history; of that she was certain. She had her evidence: Frohike’s chickadee reference, that fucking holding of hands, the way she caught Fowley looking at Mulder, and Gibson’s own warnings to her. You don’t care what others think about you but you care what she thinks.

“Scully?” 

Mulder’s muffled voice came from the closed bedroom.

“Scully?”

He was becoming more panicked.

“In here, Mulder.”

She buried her face into the oversized sweatshirt, inhaling deeply. She tried to draw some strength and some better memories. She heard him getting up, shuffling around. The bedroom door creaked open and he ruffled his hair. “What time is it?”

“A little after one,” she whispered. She didn’t break her gaze from the storm raging outside. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I can’t...I don’t know how I even how to sleep for those few hours.”

“Exhaustion,” she said.

The lightning lit up the night sky. “What are you wearing? You look like a llama, ohh wait, or is it an alpaca?” He joked.

She didn’t look at him. “It is a sweatshirt of yours. I hope you don’t mind. I was cold.”

“It’s fine. Are you hungry? I can make something.”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, lost in her own thoughts. He was still tired, exhausted. “Stop biting your lip, you know it drives me crazy,” he tried to jest again.

“I��m sure,” she whispered dryly. “Mulder, I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“You’re still here. That says something.” 

“I guess.” She shrugged. “I can go if you want me to.”

“No,” he said immediately. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped slightly. The move did not go unnoticed. “Stay, Scully? You can take the bed if you want.”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

“What is it? What’s bothering you?”

“Aside from the fact we’ve lost the x-files, all of our work is up in flames, and I never discover what actually happened to me and we may not ever find your sister? I’m peachy.” Scully could feel his eyes glaring at her at the base of her skull, somehow able to look at the chip even in the dark. “I can still go, Mulder. Perhaps there is someone else...you’d prefer.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Scully?” She felt tears in her eyes. Dear God, what was wrong with her? She shook her head silently. “Scully, talk to me. Is the loss of the x-files? Our work? I won’t know unless you tell me.”

Again, she shook her head.

“I saw you. In the hallway with her.”

“Who?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve said too much. I should go. You probably want to be alone with your thoughts.” She moved to take off the offending shirt to give it back, but he stopped her. “Mulder, let me go.”

“No. Not until you tell me. We’re partners.”

“For how long?” Scully snapped. “They’re taking away the x-files from us. They’re going to separate us up! Again. She may have been with you to find the x-files but I’m certainly the one to destroy them.”

Mulder arched an eyebrow. “You mean Diana?”

“I really should be going.”

“Scully, stop.” She’s already lost in her thoughts and Mulder realized the weight of loss affecting her too. “Scully!”

“I’m a jinx, right? I should’ve done more.”

He abruptly ignores her and pulls her into a tight hug. She fights him, trying to push away. “Scully, stop.” He was taller and stronger than her. “Scully, stop! Listen to me!” The pieces were coming together. “You saw her holding my hand.”

She stopped dejectedly and nodded. 

“And you think I’d prefer to have her than you?”

Again, another weak nod. 

Mulder had never known her to be so insecure, so emotionally raw than at this moment. He massaged her shoulders gently as she kept her head down. “We’re both hurting, Scully.”

She couldn’t handle it anymore. “Who is she to you, Mulder?”

“She ain’t no Scully if that is what you’re asking.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“What do you think?” He tipped her head up so she looked at him. “What are you talking about? You’re the only face with a view around here.” She smiled slightly and he gently thumbed away the stray tear. “You’re my partner. No one is splitting us up again.”

She nodded.

“Stay, Scully. Do you want to know who she is? I’ll tell you.”

Mulder guided her to the couch. “Let me grab us something to drink. It’s a rather painful story for me to tell.”

She didn’t resist him. Scully leaned back in the darkness on the well worn green leather couch. The storm continued to rage outside. She heard him shuffling around in the kitchen when he came back with two shot glasses and a half bottle of tequila. He poured them each a shot and gave her one.

“What are we drinking to?”

“You and me.” He told her simply. “We’re still here and we’ll find a way back again. And like I told you after Puerto Rico; I still have you.”

“Mulder: the eternal optimist. That doesn’t sound like you.”

They both took the shot. Scully grimaced as the fiery liquid burned down her throat. Mulder set his glass on his coffee table. He sighed, trying to figure out where to begin. “It is true, Diana helped me find the x-files back in ‘91. But there was more to it. It was a brief and torrid affair as the Victorians would call it. I got drunk...proposed. Three months later, she was gone and a divorce.” It came out in a long breath and Scully was silent. “It was the first time, in years...decades someone had actually cared about me or so I thought.”

Scully leaned forward to pour herself another drink. She pulled it back and could feel bile rising up in her throat. “She was your wife?”

“Briefly,” he murmured in thought. “I was naive. I wanted things to change. So I proposed. Worst mistake of my life. She gave me divorce papers and left for Europe. I haven’t seen or heard from her in years until last week.”

“Ex-wife, huh?”

He nodded. “She grabbed my hand, not the other way around. I...I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Mulder was quiet and watched her reaction. “Do you still love her?”

“Is there some fondness of what once was, could have been? A bit. But do I love her? Not anymore.” He gazed Scully fondly. “She did not come into my office five years ago and stubbornly defend me and our work. She did not cover my ass more times than I can count. She did not shot me to save me from myself. She’s not the one that I’m in love with.”

Scully had been staring fixedly at the dim bottle of tequila before his last words hit her. “What?” Her eyes met his. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I think I did but I am uncertain.”

“I’m not in love with Diana Fowley. Maybe at one time, long ago, but not anymore.” He leaned forward to cup her cheek “You know exactly what I meant, Scully.”

“We can’t…”

“We can.” The thunder crackled again and lightning lit the room. She briefly saw his eyes and she froze. Something overtook her and she leaned forward. “We’re okay, Scully.”

“Will we be?”

He nodded. Mulder caressed her cheek and gently teased her with his own lips. She responded instantly. He lunged backward with her. Scully did not know what new spirit possessed her. She carefully straddled his hips, trying not to lose her balance on the couch.  She bit his lip teasingly, her own tongue delving deeper. Mulder’s arms snaked up under her shirt, grazing her bareback. “I’m not going to lose you again,” he vowed between breaths. “I’m not going to lose you ever again. I can’t.”

Scully took off his shirt in one sweeping motion. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he promised. Her nails scratched lightly against his chest giving him goosebumps. Mulder stopped her suddenly in a sudden moment of clarity. “Scully, what are we doing?”

She stopped, becoming self-conscious. “What do you mean? Mulder, don’t do this to me.” His blank stare was all she needed. She got off him and dropped his sweatshirt. “I’m going to go home. I’ll um, see you later okay?”

Before he could utter another word, she had disappeared into the night. The storm still raged outside. He lowered his eyes and collapsed against his leather couch. He lost his work, their office, and now, he could feel himself losing her again...just like he lost Diana. Maybe he really was meant to be alone.

Scully rode the elevator down to the ground floor and she could feel tears in her eyes. At the door separating her from the lobby of the apartment and the storm outside, she felt something building in her. Anger, frustration, sadness, and longing. She shook her head. She remembered how her mother told her how Mulder never stopped looking for her during her abduction. The quick, loving gazes he would give her that he thought she wouldn’t see. And she made a decision.

On her heel, Scully turned to go back to the elevator and go back up the stairs. As soon as she stepped off the elevator and the door closed behind her, a large rumble thunder crashed overhead and then there was darkness. 

“Great,” Scully murmured, staring at the one emergency light down at the end of the hall. Had that happened earlier, she would have been stuck on that elevator. “Just great.”

She walked quickly to Mulder’s door and twisted the knob and shut it behind her. Darkness eschewed his apartment. With practiced ease, she locked his door. “Mulder,” she called.

“In here, Scully.” He was in the living room. A single candle was lit on the coffee table and his eyes were red. “I, um, what are you doing here?”

“First things first, Mulder. Do you have any other candles?”

“Kitchen,” he answered, “beneath the sink.”

Scully grabbed the candle he had lit and procured three others. Mulder made no effort to move. She placed them strategically throughout his living room so there was enough light so that neither one of them could hide.

“Carefully, Scully, we’ve already had one office go up in flames tonight.”

“Ill place humor, Mulder.” She sat next to him on the couch. “I came back.”

“Why did you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Scully?”

“Because my place is here. With you,” she answered evenly. She gazed outside his window as lightning lit up the sky. “Do you remember our first case? In Oregon?” 

He chuckled. “The bug bites, no power, and I decided to take the biggest risk in my life. I decided to trust you.”

“Funny how things come full circle, huh?”

He grunted in amusement. “You still have my sweatshirt on, Scully.”

“And you’re not getting back.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? I’m not.”

“Then why did you run?”

“But I came back.”

“You came back,” he whispered. In the dim light, he took her hand and held it tightly. “Where do we go from here, Scully?”

“I don’t know. Maybe now tonight...wasn’t the right time for that. We’re both hurting, Mulder.”

“Are you saying no altogether?”

“No,” she whispered. She looked down at their hands. “I’ve wanted it for a very long time. But tonight, Mulder, we’re mourning. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe next week? Right now, I just don’t want to be alone, and I think, neither do you.”

“You have? Wanted it that is?”

Scully chuckled. “Yes, very much so.”

“I have to.”

She smiled. “Do you mind if I spend the night here? I don’t think either one of us wants to be alone tonight.”

Mulder met her eyes in the candlelight. “Will holding you suffice for tonight? Cuddling?” The word sounded foreign on his tongue. “Scully?”

“I would like that. And Mulder, I’m not like her...Fowley. I understand you both have history, but I’m not like her. I won’t abandon you or our work.”

Mulder shuffled on the green leather couch, bring Scully with him. Like perfect puzzle pieces, the lay together. Scully was protected between the back of the couch and Mulder. He sighed in relief as if he finally found what he had been searching for all his life. She pulled the Aztec blanket from the back of the couch around them. “Scully, I know this sounds bad, but I am glad you are here with me right now.”

His hand lazily pushed back her red locks as she nuzzled his shoulder, taking in his scent, and trying to memorize every aspect of this moment. She hugged him. “There is nowhere else I would rather be.”

Mulder smiled and watched the candlelit dance with their shadows. “Tomorrow?”

“We get back up and maybe lay down in Georgetown?” The suggestiveness was heavy in her voice. “Change of scenery?”

Mulder smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I’d like that.”

The storm continued to rage outside but in the darkness of the Alexandria apartment, Mulder and Scully, holding tight to each other, knew they were going to be okay.