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midnightsapphire · 1 year

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Longing

Masterlist ~ Badlands Masterlist

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𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤 : In which Jake Sully was always the object of your desire from the moment you laid eyes on him, but when he gets thrusted head-first into the Avatar program in replacement of his deceased twin, you fight your hardest for him to desperately see you the way you see him.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 : pining, slow-burn, beginning human!jake x human!reader, eventual smut, violence, heavy angst, requited unrequited pining, jake is an ass sometimes, reader gets emotional, everyone is emotional tbh, mentions of jake and neytiri, oblivious jake, canon divergent (may add more)

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vv special thank you to @darksxder my love for dealing with my madness writing this 😩

—-

Jake was never the most studious, finding more excitement in ditching his own studies to chase whatever thrill he could find. He found himself falling behind in his academics, not that he minded much, allowing his twin brother, Tommy to receive the glory, the praise, the achievement in being the smarter, better twin. Oftentimes, Tommy would find himself filling into Jake’s absent spots when he could, picking up the slack for the both of them as Jake galavanted with his pointless cheap thrills.

“I wish I had picked Tommy to be my partner instead.” Jake heard next to him, tearing his eyes from his poorly doodled drawing of Alexander The Great to glance at the girl next to him, hair loosely tied at the back of her head, eyebrows furrowed in disgust as she poked and prodded at the lifeless body of the frog with her scalpel. Jake knew, her words held no malice as he smirked in response, swiping his finger along the slimy amphibian’s body to poke at the girl’s cheek with. She shrieked in horror, earning a harsh scolding from their teacher as (Y/N) shoved at his shoulder.

“Not cool, Sully.” She hissed, elbowing his arm as he laughed to himself, wiping his finger on the paper towels that littered the surface of their shared desk as he leaned his elbows along the edge, his eyes fluttering over her face as she held back the dry heaving from having to do all the work while he relaxed around.

“I said we could visit the cool recom facility but you were the one who insisted we show up.”

“We ditched last week-”

“And the week before that, and before that.” Jake droned on, earning another swat to his arm as he burst into laughter. He was never the most studious, but he made an effort for her. Tried his best to one up Tommy by raising his hand quicker- albeit giving the wrong answer every time, but he was still first.

It made everything worth it listening to her melodious giggle being muffled behind her hands.

“It makes me wonder if you’ll ever graduate, Jake.”

“Even if I don’t, I’ll be cheering the loudest for you and ‘lil Tommy.”

And cheer he did, letting out several hoots and hollers from his spot at the bleachers when (Y/N)’s name was called, the girl giving him a bright smile as she waved her folded diploma in the air. Jake sighed fondly to himself, earning a nudge from Tommy as they stood clad in their graduation cap and gowns.

“You have to tell her eventually. All those heart eyes you send each other are starting to make me sick.” Tommy teased his twin as Jake never ceased to tear his eyes from her, watching as she excitedly made her way to her seat a few rows away from them both, only turning around to shoot Jake a playful wink as she mouthed to him.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

—

Jake never did learn.

Opting to use his physique to join the marines, much to (Y/N)’s dismay as she followed alongside Tommy’s footsteps, jumping headfirst back into their academics and earning their PhD’s in almost no time. But never did (Y/N) cease to leave Jake behind, dragging him along to her study sessions, being the shoulder she needed when she stressed over her assignments that she neglected to finish before they piled too high for her.

It was a surprise to both him and Tommy, who had accompanied him in his little farewell, when he heard a screeching voice yell out Jake’s name. He barely had enough time to turn around before he was barreled into a tackling hug, thanking his own stability to steady the both of them as his arms wrapped around (Y/N)’s figure.

She had panted heavily, chest heaving to meet his own as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. “You can’t leave.” She whispered, nudging the skin of his neck with her nose as her hands held an iron grip on the back of his shirt. It had broken his heart, ripping it at the seams as he kissed the side of her head affectionately.

“I would never.. Not without saying goodbye to my favorite girl.” He whispered against her hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to memorize the shape of her body, the scent of her floral perfume that he would tease when she “sprayed so much he could taste it”, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears.

“I better be your only girl.” (Y/N) whispered back, their voices hushed, as if only meant for each other’s ears despite the ringing of the planes behind them and the chartered voices of other loved ones departing from their families. Jake only let out a breathless laugh as he dared to glance at his twin brother, who only shot him a knowing look as Jake solemnly pulled away to cradle (Y/N)’s face in his hands.

“Sweetheart.” Jake cooed, grazing the calloused pads of his thumbs against the apples of her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers as he heaved out a sigh. The words merely died at the tip of his tongue as he reeled back to lay a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“I promise you. I’ll come back and your face better be the first I see.” He said earnestly, his heart fluttering as he managed to pull a shaky giggle from her lips.

“Just.. Do one more thing for me.”

“Anything.”

“Would you please close your eyes? There’s.. no way I could walk away with you looking at me like that.” His voice was pleading, dropping to nothing but a whisper as she slowly did what he asked of her, his eyes painting every feature of her face into his mind as he slowly pulled away, letting his hands linger on her skin for just a little longer until the warmth slipped past his fingertips.

‘Take care of her.’ He mouthed to Tommy as he hurried to catch his plane, hands clenched along the straps of his backpack as he willed himself not to turn around, knowing all too well that he would drop everything to run back into her arms for just a bit longer.

—-

Parts of him wished he had.

The letters started frequently, almost every week. A new letter from (Y/N), the occasional one from Tommy as they updated him on their life back home. He was proud of everything they had accomplished, the things she had done to earn significance to her name. It made his heart soar whenever he had skimmed through her scribbled handwriting, tracing each letter carefully before rereading and rereading them in his moments of loneliness.

He kept every letter, every picture, tucked into the deepest parts of his pillowcase, opting to spend his sleepless nights gazing at the bright smile that crossed her face in every frame, showing off the laminated name tag on her lab coat with Tommy lingering in the background. They had done it, made names for themselves in their career while Jake?

Jake suffered more in silence, listening to the never ending beeping of the hospital monitors as they recorded his vitals, at least making sure he was alive and well.

----

To Jake, it didn’t seem like living any longer when he ignored the sympathetic looks of the soldiers as he wheeled himself up to the plane with his belongings weighing heavily on his lap. He had deemed himself too strong, too proud, practically untouchable.

But oh how the mighty fall just as hard, just as quickly.

He couldn’t face any of them, not after he heard the echoes of gunfire, the screams, barely feeling the sharp pain at the base of his spine before things had gone black. He had only remembered waking up to several doctors lingering at his head, breaking the tragic news to him that spiraled his life for the worst.

The letters soon stopped, not having the heart to break the news to the girl. His girl. Not having the heart to listen to the endless praise she held for his accomplishments, how proud she was of him for pushing through all his endeavors. Jake could no longer remember the last time he had spoken to her, hiding the withering pages under the bed in his single roomed apartment.

Jake only knew she had ventured along with Tommy to explore the legends of Pandora, something he had heard in the lingering conversations she shared with his twin brother that they assumed he tuned himself out of. He had heard from the whispers in the bars, surprised he had even bumped into old colleagues from high school as they bragged about (Y/N) and Tommy, the geniuses that were granted access into the famous Avatar program.

He felt envy seep into his heart, filling the cracks that were left the moment he had stepped on the plane. Parts of him wished he had tried harder, been better in his past to be able to say he could follow behind them.

But he couldn’t.

Jake could only watch the world wither along with himself as he spent whatever money he had on alcohol, gambling, anything to rid his mind of the lingering self pity he had felt for himself. Over the years, his upper body only grew leaner, never neglecting to increase his physical physique, but not much could be said for the lower half of his body. His legs that dragged him around for miles on end now skeletal, almost sickly as he heaved them to and fro whenever he needed to rise from bed, to dress himself.

He felt pathetic.

Women no longer looked at him with interest, not the kind he wanted. The moment they had seen the wheelchair in their view, pity only overtook their glances as they excused themselves from their conversation. Although, he never truly cared. His heart only yearned for the woman that had now been lightyears away from him, even more out of his reach as she traveled to another planet, leaving him behind.

He could have sworn he was losing his mind, blinking at every corner of his small apartment to see almost a shadow of her figure, almost haunting him, taunting him on what he could have had if only he wasn’t so hellbent on pushing her away. His eyes betrayed him when he had felt her hands on his chest, tracing small shapes onto the base of his pectoral, her smile radiating brightness that the large screen that took up a majority of his cramped apartment never could.

“What if we moved away? I saw some apartments down the block that weren’t as dingy and suffocating as this one.” (Y/N) giggled, her fingertips playing with the dog tags that dangled loosely on his neck.

“Can’t afford it, you know that.” Jake mumbled to her, glancing at him as he swore their noses almost brushed when he faced her, sculpting every part of her face that he could remember. She looked almost the same as he had last seen her, her features more sculpted, matured as he tried to visualize how beautiful she would be to him now.

Her hair was longer, just as he always told her he liked to see since he loved running his hands through them, how they tickled at his arms and cheeks when they stood too close for them to simply be just friends, her cheeks fuller, letting him know she was taking care of herself, her body growing into itself, her chest wider, legs thicker and longer, but still short enough for him to rest his chin upon.

At least before.

“We can do it, you know. Get out of here and make something of ourselves. A home for us. Wouldn’t you like that, jar-head?” She asked happily, resting her head against the spot above his beating heart, his head tilting down to bury his nose into the crown of her hair, inhaling her scent for as long as he could.

“I’d like that a lot.” He whispered into the air as he moved to glance down at her, his mind bringing him back to reality.

Leaving him in a cold, empty apartment again.

—

But it was a new day.

A new day, but the same repetition as Jake listened to the drunken cheers around him, balancing himself on the hind wheels of his wheelchair as he expertly balanced the shot glass in between the creases of his eyebrows. He listened to the deafening hollers as he downed the shot, allowing the familiar burn to sear down his throat as he held the empty cup in the air triumphantly.

He waved off the pats on the back, brushing them off behind him as he set the empty cup onto the counter. As the years passed by, Jake grew more aware, more attentive of his surroundings. He listened to everything around him, eyes narrowing as a heated argument between a woman and- who he guessed- was her company along the bar.

The moment a blow was sent along the woman’s cheek, Jake felt a blazing rage seep into his veins. His head tilted in contempt as he narrowly wheeled himself closer to the couple, not knowing what came over him as he grabbed the leg of the barstool, sending both him and the burly man to the floor as punches were thrown, screams were heard, and Jake again found himself being thrown out of the bar, hissing as the heavy metal of his wheelchair slammed against his back.

But he had no regrets, once again feeling the adrenaline course through his body as he turned to lay on his back, laughing to himself as the rain pelted down on his face.

(Y/N) would have been proud.

He opened his eyes when he had felt the rain stop cascading down his bruising face, a shadow looming over his body as he saw a shadowy figure towering over his laying frame, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes adjusted. He blinked away the droplets out of his eyes when he had seen (Y/N)’s radiating smile, something he couldn’t mistake. “Must be really fucked up in the head to see you, sweetheart.” He whispered under his breath, smiling to himself when he felt the ghost of her touch against his skin, tracing the growing stubble lining his jaw as he instinctively leaned into her.

“You’re being stupid again.” She giggled, crouching down to his battered body, brushing her fingers through his hair, and for once, Jake felt selfish, allowing himself to indulge in her presence even if it wasn’t really there.

“I thought I told you to take this easy, I need you in one piece, you know?” (Y/N) teased as he let out a breathless laugh, hand reaching up to trace her cheek with the back of his hand, the softness of her skin burning at his knuckles as she beamed down at him, the corner of her eyes crinkling, eyes almost shut and he feared her jaw with hurt with how wide she was gleaming at him, like he held her world in his hands, like she was his world.

“Miss you so much.” Jake whispered into the air, eyes fluttering shut once again when he remembered the touch of her forehead against his, reminiscing in the warmth that radiated her off her skin, the gentleness that he knew only she held for him.

“Then come back to me.” And just like that when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

—-

Jake didn’t know what he had done in his life, or any past life to deserve the karmic disbelief the world had given him one after the other. Not long after the adrenaline had left his body, he found himself wheeling down the grueling halls of the recom facility, being led by two RDA agents that informed him about an incident that had happened to his own twin brother.

He could only watch as his own face stared back at him, lifeless, cold, empty. “Oh, Tommy.” Jake mumbled under his breath, only helplessly watching as they wheeled Tommy’s body into the incinerator, watching as the orange flames roared to life as he was escorted out of the facility, the questions lingering at the tip of his tongue.

“(Y/N)? She’s a scientist too, and worked alongside Tommy for as long as I’ve known them. She alright?” Jake found himself asking as the agents simply brushed off his questions, only informing him of Tommy’s life work, the life he had ripped away from him, the funds that were put into the project, and how yet again it had to fall into the hands of the only other person closest to the man.

A second choice to fall back on.

—

For three grueling years, Jake trained day and night, letting his body readjust to the lack of physical strain he had put on himself throughout the years. Day and night his questions went unanswered, only returned with more exercises and tasks that weighed heavily on his body. But he endured, knowing how much was at stake, how much was compensated for him, how much closer he could be to the woman he had left years ago.

Five years, nine months, and twenty-two days later, Jake could only find himself awoken on a ship along with a few others that were granted access into the Avatar Program. He felt out of place, outcasted from the rest that thoroughly earned their ways into the facility while him? He had it fall into his lap at the expense of his deceased brother.

His mind grew blank at all the information thrown at him, barely had time to register anything before exopacks were thrusted into his chest, the dangers of the planet itself, the natives that inhabited it, much to his obvious distaste. He was a soldier, not easily swayed by the natives and the threats they faced, by the incredulous looks of the scientists that he knew looked down at him though they never said it to his face.

But he knew the looks. He grew up with the same distasteful and hesitant looks thrown at him all his life.

Jake could only glance around the lab in wonder, the many machines and tables scattered around the room as scientists darted in and out. He was only followed alongside a lanky man, introducing himself as Norm Spellman, not that Jake would ever bother to remember it.

“I knew your brother. He was- He was a good man.” Norm had said, giving Jake a tight lipped smile that he could only return with a nod of his head.

“He was great-” Jake started, only interrupted by a gust of air, scientists pushing past him hurriedly as a woman emerged from the chamber. He had known nothing of anyone, of anything happening around him as he followed behind, looking on in confusion as the woman, who was important enough to leave Norm speechless, glared down at the two of them as she had lit a cigarette in between her lips.

“This is what they give me to work with?” The woman spoke, blowing the smoke into the air as Jake fought the urge to cough, waving the vapor away from his face as Norm whispered in awe.

“That’s Grace Augustine.” He mumbled, in shock at the confusion still written on the ex-marine’s face.

“She’s the leader of the Avatar Program.” Norm gushed, falling onto deaf ears as Grace closed the gap between them, her features distastefully narrowing in on Jake as he sat up straighter in his hair.

“This is the replacement they give me? Do you even have any experience in the field?” She scoffed in disbelief as Jake shrugged his shoulders, a lazy smirk gracing his features as he laid his hands on his lap.

“I dissected a frog once.” He said simply, leaning back in his chair as a baffled Grace threw down her cigarette, her eyes enflamed with disbelief and rage as she moved to saunter closer to the wheel chaired man.

“I think you mean I dissected it. Last time I checked, you only watched.” Jake heard from behind him, his head nearly snapping as he reeled to look at the voice, the source only giving him a small half smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. Jake felt his chest cave within himself, lips parting as he met with the familiar eyes he longed to see in anything more than photos.

His girl.

“Hello to you too, Jarhead.”

---

Taglist : @perseny ; @goddesslilithmoriarty ;

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jasntodds · 8 months

Text

Petrichor [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 12,980

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, violence, mentions of canon violence, reader goes a little off the rails, a whole lot of arguing, description of drowning (it's a metaphor), mentions of death lol, mentions of canon decapitation (I mean Jason did do that), one of Dick's thoughts is inspired by him killing the Joker in Joker: Last Laugh because I mean hey, I promise I do fix everyone's dynamics with Bruce later I like when the entire batfam gets along, mentions of canon drug use and making a drug

Summary:❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: It's long again but it's important lmao Jason is in this chapter, just hang in there lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The not-to-so funeral, funeral, is mostly a blur. For obvious reasons, the casket was closed the whole time. To you, it didn’t matter. You saw him. You saw him before and you saw him after. His mangled face stares back at you in the mirror. You didn’t need to see him like that again.

Bruce has the funeral within a day and a half, not informing any of the Titans or anyone. Molly only came because you knew and she came time to get there. You want to fight and scream about it but at this point, you're too exhausted. And you're so numb. And in pain, you're numb and in pain which doesn’t make any sense but everything hurts while you feel nothing at all. It’s like drowning but without the panic.

Your head throbs and that’s always the start. Pressure builds as you try to hold your breath because letting in the loss of Jason seems to be the worst possible thing you could ever do. With every breath you take, that’s less he got to take. Your head bangs and throbs, wailing for you to breathe and let the pain in for just a second. And once you do, it’s water rushing into your lungs with a single gasp.

Drowning is suffocating and agonizing. It’s as if your lungs are being stabbed over and over with tiny needles with every breath you try to take. Your lungs are filled with cement and stabbing, weighing you down with every desperate gasp. The water sloshes around, seeping into all of your open nerves with striking electricity. It’s the worst pain of your entire life.

You don’t care anymore. It’s hard and it’s like these are the longest days of your life. There’s just pain and numbness and anger. That’s all there is now. So, you only come out of her room for the bathroom and to watch Jason’s casket be lowered into the ground. You don’t leave your bed or say a word to Bruce for the first two days.

By day three, some of the sadness and exhaustion has manifested into more anger. It's all anger at the world and Bruce and the Joker and yourself. You're even, selfishly, a little bit mad at Jason even though you don't want to be. But, the anger builds until you can't sit still anymore and you set a plan into action.

You warned Bruce. You told him the Joker's death was inevitable. You'd do it if the Joker ever touched someone you cared about, if he ever touched Jason. Jason is dead and as far as you're concerned, your loyalty to Bruce and his morals died with him. So, you start a plan to break into Arkham and kill him yourself.

You wait until Bruce is asleep before you sneak into the Batcave and start your research. The Joker doesn’t get to just get away this time. He killed your mom. And now he killed Jason. You're fed the fuck up with Bruce letting him off. So, you plan and plot and look at blueprints of Arkham, trying to figure out how you can get in, kill him, and get out.

Jason always told you the grudges might help, something you find odd given him not being a grudge holder. But, being mad and wanting revenge against the Joker, is a lot better than dealing with the pain of losing him. So, you plan and plan until the late morning.

Dick and Gar show up that afternoon from San Francisco. Bruce told them you haven't left your room or eaten anything since Jason died. Dick is the one that tries to get to you first, figuring maybe he can break a little bit of the ice like when he brought you back to the tower.

He knocks on your door despite Bruce saying you won’t answer or come out. But Dick tries anyway and when he doesn’t get an answer, he opens the door anyway. You were once in his care. Jason was once in his care.

“Hey, you awake?” Dick asks, sticking his hands in his pockets as your back is faced away from him, laying on your side in one of Jason's favorite hoodies.

You ignore him, keeping your stare at the wall. Talking seems like it will be too much. It'll be him saying he's sorry for your loss and then you'll start crying again. It'll be him giving you a look and you hate getting looks. It's not Dick's fault. You're not mad at him, you can't afford to waste your energy being mad at him when it's already torn between grief-filled revenge and sobbing uncontrollably. The best thing you can do for yourself is ignore him. To ignore everyone. It's to push them away.

“Bruce said you haven’t been eating or leaving your room.” Dick walks further into your room, moving to get a look at you and he can see you're awake now but you don’t look at him. “You need to eat.” Dick states but you still won’t look at him. “I know it’s…hard. I know Jason meant a lot to you. You two went through a lot together. But, he wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

Dick says that on purpose, thinking maybe it’ll get a rise out of you. Maybe you’d say something like he wouldn’t know because he never knew Jason or he didn’t care enough about Jason to know what he would want. But you say nothing, you don’t look at him, and you don’t move. Dick would think you were dead if it were for the blankets moving with every breath you take.

“Okay, well, I’ll be down the hall. Gar is here and the other Titans will be here in a few days. You can come talk if you want.” Dick offers but again, nothing from you so Dick leaves you to yourself.

The tears come back as soon as you hear the door close. The weight in your chest is so heavy you can’t even bear it. You don’t know how. Things get heavy, you put it on Jason. Jason was so good at carrying your weight for you and now he’s gone. And you have no idea how you're ever supposed to carry the weight of losing him. You shouldn’t have to.

It’s not fair. It was senseless and cruel and brutal. And you think he must have been scared in his final moments. You wonder if he knew you’d be looking for him, maybe he thought you’d come to save him like you always did. But you let him down. A sob rips through your throat at the very thought and you can’t do it.

Gar tries again a few hours later. He’s going through it, too. It’s different with Dick. Dick got to know Jason better over the last few months but he didn’t know him like Gar did. They were best friends and they talked everyday. He’s the best friend Gar ever had and he’s going through the loss of it, too. But, a part of him is worried he’s going to lose you with him.

But, similar to Dick, you don't say anything and you feel bad about it even. You know it hurts him, too. They were best friends but it's too damn hard to look at him. You know, to some extent, Jason's blood is also on your hands. How are you supposed to tell Gar that? You can't and you swear you do not deserve the empathy that radiates from Gar. So, you ignore him only for him to sit with you anyway and turn on one of your mutually favorite movies.

Gar doesn't give up and you don't have to talk but he knows being alone in grief is not going to do you any good. Sitting with you is something he can do and if you decide still, not to talk, that's fine. But, he wants to be here just in case you do. And about halfway through the movie, you finally cave and turn around to face him with tear-stained cheeks.

"I know." Gar nods softly. "I miss him, too." Gar says softly.

You let out a sob, slamming your eyes shut. Gar reaches over and pulls you into a hug. The two of you break into each other’s arms. How are you supposed to figure out how to live your lives without him in them anymore? You’ve done it with your parents and Donna. You have done it and you can do it again but how? It’s so damn hard and it just keeps happening. You both keep losing people. How much loss can two people even take before it all becomes too much? You swears this is it. This is too much. Jason Todd was the last straw. You're tired of the circle.

Molly comes by the next day. You haven't been answering her texts or calls which isn't surprising. Molly decided to give you a couple of days to be alone before stopping by again. She needed those couple of days to gather herself, too. Jason was her best friend, too. but, Molly has something interesting to tell you and she hopes, given finding out about the vigilante life, maybe it'll get you to at least get out of bed.

"Hey." Molly calls and you wave your arm haphazardly at her from your bed. "I have something you might wanna know." Molly comes and plops down beside you.

You turn around slowly, eyes narrowing at her. You don't say anything, however, you decide just to listen. A really big part of you wants to push Molly away, too. It seems safer that way. But, it also seems cruel to do it again. You did it once and it was always something you regretted.

"Has Dick or Bruce mentioned the new crime lord?" Molly asks and you raise a brow. Molly asked around about him a little bit and that's what he's being referred to apparently. "Well, two nights ago, he showed up at my apartment with Diego."

"What?" You question immediately, your voice cracked and rugged.

"Yeah, he just showed up with him. He told me to get better locks?" Molly shakes her head. "I have no idea but Diego was fine."

"How would he even know about Diego and you?" You ask and Molly was right, it does pique your interest a little bit. You haven't heard anything about the new guy but it is interesting. New crime lord shows up and he drops off a missing kid unharmed? That shit is weird, even for Gotham.

"I have no idea. But, he seemed...familiar, I think but also really intimidating." Molly shakes her head. "I don't know but I thought you'd wanna know. Did you want to look into him for me?" Molly asks casually and hopefully.

You see through it. You know what Molly is trying to do and maybe it'll work a little bit. You're already looking into how you can get away with killing the Joker. You could squeeze this guy into it. Maybe it'll be a good distraction from the stabbing and suffocating pain of grief. You always did like to run from things that hurt. This is an opportunity to do just that and for a good cause. He knows where Molly lives and that's a problem.

"Are you just trying to get me out of bed?"

"A little bit." Molly laughs softly. "Jason would go after him, or look into him."

You let out a scoff. "Yeah, probably." You roll your eyes. "Fine, but only because he showed up at your fucking apartment and that's weird as fuck. You do need better locks though."

"Yeah, I'll get to that." Molly quips back.

"Still have a Wayne credit card, want it to buy better locks?" You offer.

"You just wanna spite Bruce."

"And make sure you're safe. Sick of losing people."

"At least you're talking." Molly smiles widely.

"Yeah." You answer shortly.

That night, after everyone has gone into their rooms for the night, you go back to the Batcave and continue planning. But, on top of that, you do what you promised Molly. You start looking into the new so-called crime lord. He showed up at her apartment. That's reason enough for concern and you aren't about to lose another person. And of course, Bruce already has a file on him.

According to the file, he's already decapitated six men of the major drug families in Gotham. You give the screen a grimace reading the words and then going to autopsy reports. Decapitation is a personal way of murder. That seems weird for someone willing to drop off a kidnapped kid but you just keep reading over everything. You find out he also killed Pete Hawkins, this time with a bullet to the head which explains how he found Diego. But, you still find that confusing as you go back to Pete Hawkins' file.

He was just working with the Joker, not other families. Why the hell would the guy target scum like Pete Hawkins when he's going after the families? Going after the families means going after the drug trade in Gotham, not whatever weird shit the Joker had planned with kids. This whole thing is weird and if you were being honest, a little annoying. The Joker was just the first part of your plan.

The next step is men like Pete Hawkins, people working with the Joker. The new guy managed to already beat you to the punch and you find that to be annoying. There are others though, at least, and you can still target them as long as this guy doesn't. You're done with the way this city chews and eats the innocent. Bruce's ways clearly don't work enough. So, you continue your research spread across the new guy and the best way to get into Arkham.

The following night, Barbara comes over to have a drink with Bruce and Dick. Dick convinced her to come talk to Bruce. You can hear them from your room. They're laughing and you don't know how they even managed to get a laugh out. But, it piques your curiosity. Gar told you earlier that he's worried Dick might have you committed if you don't get up and try. This seems like an excuse enough to make an appearance, if for no other reason, than to just listen. They're talking about Jason.

"So, then, Jason corners Mad Hatter and he starts swearing at him like going off." Barbara says and you stop just before the entrance of the room to listen to the story. You lean against the wall, sucking in a breath. "Like 'you short fucking hat-wearing fuck' fuck you'. And Hatter stands there stunned that Robin's cussing him out. And then Bruce came in and do you remember what you said to Jason?" Barbara laughs.

"What?" Dick asks.

"Watch your language." Bruce says.

You gain a soft smile because that sounds like Jason. He'd tell anyone off. He didn't give a fuck who they were. You wish you could have seen the look on Hatter's face. But the smile falls short as Bruce brings up the GCPD finding eight bodies, clearly the new guy that showed up at Molly's apartment. He asks if they know who the killer is and this is why you can't stand him.

He never fucking stops. Jason is barely in the ground and he just keeps fucking moving. At least you're looking for revenge and looking into someone who might be a threat to Molly. Bruce is just doing it because it's Bruce. Not because he actually cares about Jason or the people this guy is gonna hurt. And he has the audacity to call what's going on in Gotham a war. for the soul of the city. You almost walk away but Barbara starts talking and you always liked her.

"I don't know, Bruce. Calling it a war feels like trying to justify all the lives that've been lost."

"Your father and I knew protecting Gotham required real sacrifice."

You nearly scream. He doesn't fucking get it. Innocent people shouldn't have to be sacrificed for a city. That isn't justice and you want to sit down and question his morals right to his face. Innocent people being sacrificed by Bruce and the GCPD is fine, but killing people like the damn Joker isn't justice? The logic doesn't add up and it's like some sick-ass game Bruce is playing here. But with people's lives. Maybe he can't kill them because he's too similar to the bad guys he lets live.

"My father died from a heart attack after being frozen in a block of ice by a man wearing a fucking refrigerator suit." Venom seeps into Barabara's voice.

"Mr. Freeze." Bruce corrects and you nearly bang your head against the wall.

"I know who he is." Barbara snaps back and there's a pause for a few seconds. "That's how you see my father, isn't it? As a sacrifice? You dragged him into this insanity. Just like you did Dick and Jason. And now y/n."

"It was a long time ago." Dick finally chimes in and you want to know how Dick doesn't see that Bruce has manipulated him so damn bad it's almost Stockholm syndrome.

"You know what he did to you, Dick. You almost lost yourself because Bruce weaponized your grief." Barabara says. "And Jason? You took another kid who was lost and angry and alone and convinced him that he'd be invincible if he put on a mask. No more Robins, Bruce. I chose to put the cowl on to go out there as Batgirl when the Joker shot me. That wasn't your fault. But you drove Dick away."

"We worked it out." Dick defends Bruce again.

You roll your eyes and you want to put him under a microscope and figure out exactly why he defends him so much. Apparently, his loyalty is deep but Bruce keeps Dick in the dark. And you know a little secret that might change that. Dick warned you about Bruce. You know he doesn't fully forgive him or trust him. And you're going to make sure it stays that way. You're all sacrifices to the city anyway, right?

"Whether you've forgiven him or not, he drove you away. And he put Jason in the ground. You would think that after everything that the Joker's done to so many people you would have found a way to keep him locked up. But part of me, a big part of me, believes that you want him to escape. So, you can keep hiding from yourself behind that mask. You're as crazy as the fucking Joker." Barbara spits and you smile. She's right and someone should have said it a long time ago.

The room falls silent and you think now is a good time to make yourself known. You agree with Barabra but there are some things you have to say and some things they need to hear, too.

"It's true." Your voice is groggy and cracked as you stand in the doorway, the entire room putting their eyes on you. "Babs is right." You glance to her and offer a nod.

"You're up." Dick's face softens.

"Yeah, heard you guys laughing. Heard the Hatter story. But, let's not get our hopes up here, Dickolas. She's fucking right, it's your fucking fault Jason's dead." You turn your attention to Bruce. "I told you."

"What do you mean you told him?" Dick questions, looking between the two of you.

"I told him Joker was gonna kill someone he cared about eventually, you or Jason and he didn't listen. He never fucking listens." You scoff with the shake of your head as you tug the sleeves of Jason's hoodie over your hands. "I told you, all you had to was let him be fucking Robin or get it through his head that you love him and all you did was fucking fail in both departments." You let out a heavy breath as you lock eyes with Bruce. "And you just...pinned him and Dick against each other so he never fucking felt good enough and anyone willing to actually listen to him for five minutes could figure that out but you just...don't fucking listen. Had you just let him be Robin or been fucking better, he'd be alive!" You let out an exasperated yell.

To be fair, you've been wanting to tell Bruce off for months. You know all of the weird ass training he put Jason and Dick through. Between the cabin and the contract about not letting fear in or whatever, it's insanity. The two of them might have been partially raised by Bruce but from where you're standing, Bruce viewed them as weapons of his own molding. It's wrong even if that was never his intention and all that training was supposed to be to keep them safe. It's still wrong.

"That's not fair." Dick states firmly.

"No, you wanna know what's not fair? The fact I lost my mom because of Bruce. And I just lost my favorite person in the entire world because of him. He was it for me, Dick." You grit your teeth as tears brim your eyes. "So, I don't care!" You turn your attention back to Bruce."You got him fucking killed! Remember what I told you? The guilt eating you alive yet?" You snarl at him as your voice cracks.

"I am sorry for your loss of your mother. I tried talking with Jason--" Bruce starts.

"I don't wanna hear it. Fuck you. I don't care!" You yells at him as your voice cracks. "It wasn't fucking good enough. You might not have taken the crowbar to his face but you might well have." Tears leak from your eyes as you wipe them quickly. "How dare you sit in here and laugh with them over Jason, a kid you never fucking bothered to understand or actually protect. Fuck you, Bruce." You shake your head and you turn to Dick. Your loyalty was always with Jason, not Bruce. "Hey, Dick, you say you forgive him, right? Why don't you go check the Batcomputer and let me know if you still do? You're really gonna wanna see what he's got planned." You taunt.

"What's on the Batcomputer?" Dick looks to Bruce with suspicion. His stomach flips and a part of him actually doesn't want to know. He knows it's not going to be anything good and he really thought, just maybe, things would be a little different.

"It's nothing." Bruce states. "I understand this is difficult. It is difficult for all of us—"

"It was not hard for you to order the autopsy. For what? He was beaten to death. We all know how he died. You had no fucking problem burying him without his fucking friends being here. His family. All you care about is yourself and covering this shit up so you can move onto the next fucked up kid you can weaponize all over again."

Dick says your name sternly, trying to get you to backtrack to the Batcomputer. "What are you talking about?"

"Pictures of kids, profiles on them. Street kids, that's the nothing Bruce is talking about." You explain as you look between Babarara and Bruce. You might have went digging on the Batcomputer, expecting Bruce to be looking for a new Robin. "Should I tell Dick and Babs what you asked me the day of the bullshit funeral you tried to throw?"

"What did you do?" Barbara asks Bruce, her voice annoyed and protective.

"He asked me if I wanted to be Robin, to honor Jason." You roll your eyes as you let out a cold and bitter laugh. "You never gave a shit about him. You aren't even grieving him. Someone who's grieving doesn't go recruit more kids to fill the role that got another one killed. It fucked up Dick. You killed Jason. What's fucking next?" You look to Dick. "You warned me about him. So, don't sit here and pretend like all's forgiven. You knew he was dangerous. To some extent otherwise, you wouldn't have warned me. Every time he asked me for something, I remembered what you told me and I said no. I won't end up like you and Jason. I am not one of his sidekicks. I am my own fucking person. I didn't get to pick my powers but I get to pick what I do with them. Because of you. Don't pretend like you actually think he changed."

"I'm sorry, what the hell has been going on here?" Barbara looks to Bruce.

"I think it's time we stop pretending like Batman's ways are the only good ones because they don't fucking work. Batman has helped the city, sure, but uh, he's also caused it a lot of harm. And now you've taken my favorite people. So, fuck you and fuck your morals. Babs is right. Fuck you. I'm going back to bed." You turn around before looking back to Dick. "I'm serious, check the Batcomputer." You look to Bruce. "My loyalty was always with Jason. It was never with you. That is the only reason I went by your rules and that's why I'll tell Dick everything. I don't have to protect Jason by protecting you anymore. You were his hero. But you were never mine. I hope that guilt eats you alive like it is for me." You state before walking off, the room confused in silence.

You head back to your room and lay back on the bed. You hate that your eyes start burning as the lump becomes so large you can't even swallow. It's not fair. Everything sets you off. You want to stop crying and shaking. You hate the nausea that comes with it and you miss him so fucking much.

Your hand grips the necklace tight as if the pure strength of your fist can bring him back. Every single second is agonizing. All you wants is for him to walk through those doors again and greet you with some lame pet name. You'll take Acid Fingers at this point. None of it matters anymore.

You close your eyes and you see either his face brutalized or that grin he'd give you right before he had a bad idea you'd follow without even thinking. His canines were always a little pointy and looked like fangs in the right light. Somehow it always suited him. And you miss him.

You remember your first night in Gotham that feels like ages ago. And how it felt to be back with him. The void in your heart, the one you didn't even know was there, was suddenly not so hollowed anymore. You touched the bruise on his face and you thought maybe he'd explode from the contact. You always wondered if maybe he could hear your heart whenever you did something like that. It was always the only sound you could hear. He made you so nervous and happy. A part of you thought, maybe, you weren't meant to be happy in love. You always ran from it anyway but Jason made it so easy. He always made it easy to love him even when it was hard. And you don't know how you're supposed to just...cope. To live every day and never hear his laugh and see that grin again. Or hear his voice. You don't even have a voicemail from him. You want him back.

The next morning, Dick walks into your room. He stands in the doorway and he hates he's even the one to have to break this news. But, someone has to and it needs to be him. And you have to be the first person he tells. Bruce, apparently, took all of the arguments a little too close to heart last night.

"Are you awake?" Dick asks.

You stick your arm up and wave at him haphazardly, not wanting to talk. You're still coming down from last night. Gar came in after, he heard the arguing, and checked on you. But, even trying to talk to him didn't really help. Nothing really helps.

Grief is exhausting. It consumes every part of you. Every muscle, every emotion. Every piece of you is just consumed. It's like a radioactive explosion. No part of you is safe from the agony. And no one around you is safe from the grief that leaks from your pores.

"I need to tell you something." Dick keeps his voice steady and stern.

You turn slowly, peeking an eye at him but not saying anything. You think it'll be something dumb. Something to try and get you to get up again, but not argue or fight with Bruce. Maybe Bruce had a moment last night where he finally snapped and actually cried over it. You don't know and you don't care, but you're listening.

"Bruce broke into Arkham last night and killed the Joker." Dick gets it out in a single breath, anticipating you to blow up. "And then he took off."

Your eyes narrow at him as your jaw squares. If this is Dick's big idea of a joke, he really needs a comedy lesson because that's not funny. But, he has his hands in his front pockets and his jaw is squared, he always does that when he's being serious about something. And that grief that just felt like numbness and agony, is liquified into anger.

You sit up slowly. "He what?"

"Yeah." Dick states with the quick raise of his brows. "He dropped a crowbar on my floor last night."

If it were anyone else, you would probably find it in yourself to actually laugh at the use of a crowbar. It's what he deserves but that's brutal. But, this is Bruce. The one who's been saying the Joker has to stay alive. Now, suddenly, he's gone off and killed him? With a crowbar?

"He killed the Joker?"

"Yeah." Dick nods his head.

That's your last straw here. You had a plan. You were planning to kill him yourself and somehow Mr. Morality himself beat you to fucking punch? How did that even happen? The one time you actually put a plan together and Bruce gets there first? How is that even fair?! You're so sick of this shit.

"Get the fuck out." You snap, shaking your head with gritted teeth.

"Look, I know--"

"No, get the fuck out of my room." You point at the door. "That's bullshit. Get out. He should have been mine!"

Dick hangs his head for a second and he's not even sure how he's supposed to feel about it. He'd be lying if he weren't also planning his own revenge on the Joker. Him and Jason had their issues but he is also tired of the Joker getting to hurt people he cares about. He sat by Babara's hospital bed after the Joker shot her and he swears it was the darkest day of his life since his parents died. Then Jason. Killing is wrong, but the Joker needed to be stopped. Dick wanted revenge, too. But, maybe a part of him is a little hurt because he doesn't think Bruce would have done that for him.

Then, there's the other part, knowing you were ready to go in yourself and take care of him. Which makes him a little relieved Bruce beat you to it. You've never fought the Joker. Dick isn't sure you would have made it out. They'd be burying another body.

"The Titans will be here in a few hours. But, I wanted you to be the first to know." Dick states. "I thought you deserved that." Dick lets out a breath. "And you were right about the kids. You were right."

You pause for just a second because Dick does not like to admit he's wrong often. But he is now. You knew you were right but something is a little bit nice hearing it anyway. And from Dick. But, that does not make you any less angry at the world or at Bruce.

"Yeah, I fucking know and so were you. Too bad Jason didn't see it." Your voice softens just a little and you regret not voicing your concerns about Bruce and Robin to him. It probably wouldn't have done anything but cause a fight, but you should have tried.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me, too." You shake your head. "Now get out." You lay back down and roll over.

You're going with Plan B.

The agony of grief is turning into boiling rage. How dare Bruce think he gets the right to just kill the Joker now. Of all fucking times. Now he's going to toss his morals aside and kill him? It's a little too fucking late for that. That should have been your job but he went and did it anyway. You're fucking sick of this. So, you change your plan and if you're gonna be mad, you're gonna use it.

You grab the tablet off the nightstand and get up. You grab a notebook from your bookshelf with a marker and sit right in the center of your floor. There are plenty more horrible people that roam the streets of Gotham and you're going after every single one of them. You write down what you deem to be the worst of the worst behaviors and go from there.

This was always going to be the plan if you made it out of Arkham after killing the Joker. You were always going to go after these people. It's just being sped up a little bit and you aren't going to waste a lot of time planning this time around. Instead, you do research through the tablet and find who you can that were confirmed to be working with the Joker and/or working with Pete Hawkins and then you run over their rap sheets and backgrounds.

You remember you and Jason talking about what you'd both do after Robin. After Bruce. You'd hunt down these people yourselves because they're always the ones that get pushed to the side. They get to escape Batman, they don't make it to the radar. Well, now they are. Molly was always right. Batman protects the rich so you're going to protect the ones Batman doesn't. You're going to make sure none of these victims and potential victims end up like you or Jason or Molly or Diego or any of the others. Bruce's morals were never yours.

You finish your research a few hours later before you head to the Batcave, ignoring the laughter coming from the kitchen. You look at Jason's suit that still has traces of blood over it. Your heart sinks to your stomach and your eyes start to burn. You chew the inside of your cheek before taking in a deep breath. It's not fucking fair but you're gonna level the playing field. Someone has to. Not another person.

Bruce offered you Robin as a way to honor him and that's not honorable. But, you want to send the message. So, you walk over to the case with your suit and open it. You get dressed before you head over to the weapons where you grab the extra R blades that usually go into the Robin suit. You stuff them in your utility belt. You are not knives but they'll do the job just fine. Jason always made sure they were sharp.

The kitchen is filled with Titans, all of them snapping their attention to you as you walk in, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You don't say a single word as you keep your stare in front of you as you walk over to the cabinet where Jason always kept the protein bars. You pluck a few from the cabinet and stick them in your utility belt.

"You're up." Dick finally states with caution. "And going out?" Dick eyes you in the suit.

"Got shit to do." You mutter, slamming the cabinet door.

"You should probably eat something....more filling." Gar chimes in. "Especially if you're going on patrol." Gar keeps his voice hopeful.

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. The other Titans watch you carefully, glancing to Dick to find out what they're supposed to do in all of this. You didn't talk to Dawn or Hank and neither did Jason. They know what was posted to social media and whatever Gar, Dick, and Kory would tell them. But, they're growing a little more concerned about what they missed in these few months.

"Let me fucking be." You snip. "That's what the protein bars are for." Sarcasm fills the room like toxic venom.

Hank blocks the exit. "Heard you haven't been eating or doing anything. You're eating before you leave."

Of all the people, you do not want to deal with Hank. You can let a grudge for yourself go but for people you love? Absolutely not. Jason can forgive him all the fuck he wants, but you do not. And you will take him out first if that's how this is going to be.

You grit your teeth. "Get the fuck out my way."

Hank crosses his arms. "Not a chance, kid."

"We're worried about you." Dawn's voice is soft.

"I don't fucking care." You snip, looking back at her.

"Why don't you come sit down?" Kory asks. "Take a breath."

It's not Kory's fault. None of this. She has been nothing but nice to you and Jason. But, she's on their side, not yours.

"I have had enough taking breaths. I need to get some shit done and I am going to do it whether any of you like it or not." You look back at Kory with the shrug of your shoulders. "I'm tired of this shit hurting so I'm...going out."

Gar's worried about you. He's always worried. But, you going out even if it's just to patrol seems like a really bad idea right now. He's terrified you're going to do something reckless and they'll be burying you, too. He can't lose someone else.

"It hurts us, too." Gar says quietly.

You know. You know it hurts them all. But, you were closest to him. You were there. You missed it. You were the one that found him and had to look at him like that. You were the one that wasn't fast enough to save him. Or strong enough. Or careful enough. Jason made you rethink everything you have ever known and for the first time in your life, you weren't fucking afraid of staying. He changed every part of you and it hurts. He's gone and it's your fault and it hurts.

You grit your teeth and feel your eyes start to water. "But it hurts me the most, Gar!" You spin to look at him. "You. Weren't. Here! He meant everything to me." Your voice cracks with desperation."I close my eyes and I see his body. I--" You stop yourself, feeling everyone stare at you, the tension in the room making the place feel a rainforest. "None of you get it." Your voice cracks with defeat. "Leave me alone. I'll be fucking fine." You suck in a harsh breath, hardening your face as you look up to Hank. "Get the fuck out of my way."

Hank looks to Dick and Dick shakes his head. He let Jason down. No matter what Dick believes really happened, it was his job to protect Jason and teach, Jason. He let him down and he won't let you down. Not again. He won't lose another person.

"Not happening."

"Get the fuck out of my way or I'll melt your face off." You hold out your free hand, it glowing in response.

"You won't fucking dare." Hank glares down at you. "I'll take you out, kid."

You stand your ground. "I'm not scared of you. I'm not fucking afraid of anything."

"I'll go with you." Gar finally chimes in, tired of the back and forth.

He's a little worried you might actually try to fight Hank at this point. He knows none of them are going to be able to stop you unless with force. He, for one, does not want to see that happen and what will be the aftermath of that. He doesn't want to help with it either. It's not right. So, he'll just go with and make sure you don't do anything too insane.

"No." You're stern as you look over your shoulder at Gar.

"You take Gar or you're not going." Dick states.

He doesn't want you to leave but he also knows holding you here won't do any of you any good. At least with Gar, Dick knows you wouldn't do anything to endanger him. Gar is always the voice of reason and maybe the two of you alone, Gar can talk some sense into you.

"I don't need a fucking babysitter, Dickolas."

"We don't want you to get yourself killed." Gar states.

"The world has never been so kind to me." Your words are broken as you look to the floor. You shake your head and you want to save your remaining energy for your list so you cave. "Fucking fine." You spin around, Gar jumping up from his seat. "But, you don't get to protest what I'm doing and I assure you, you will not like it."

"What are you going to do?" Dick asks.

"Doesn't matter. There's a new crime lord in town, you have your hands a little full with Bruce out of the picture. He's killed eight people and counting, taking over the drug traffickers right now."

"All the more reason for you not to go out." Dick states.

"I'm not in the crime business in case you haven't noticed, Dickolas. " You let out a scoff. "So, I'm fucking leaving and doing my own shit." You turn back to Hank. "I won't piss off a wanna-be Penguin."

"Make sure she doesn't get herself killed or kills anyone else in the process." Dick warns Gar quietly and he nods.

"Move." You groan up at Hank who reluctantly moves when Gar approaches.

Hank moves allowing you both to pass by, Gar hot on your heels as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You head outside where your bike is parked and you pop on your helmet. You're running through your plan in your head, trying to figure out how you're going to manage with Gar around.

Gar is not going to like it and then you'll have to listen to him. But, if there's one thing you've gotten good at the last few days, it's tuning people out. So, you could tune him out. You could also just have him wait outside if this is an indoor thing. You don't want him involved. This is your thing. It doesn't need to be on Gar's hands.

"Are you going to tell me what your plan is?" Gar asks as he stands to the side of the bike.

"Nope." You state. "Dick's bike is over there with a helmet, grab it and get on so we can go." You state coldly.

"I think you should tell me the plan first." Gar's voice is hesitant.

"We're literally outside right now and I can just take off. I can lose Dick before you go inside to get him and tell him you already lost me. So, either get the helmet and let's go, or I'm going to leave."

Gar lets out a defeated sigh as you get on the bike. He rushes over to Dick's bike and grabs the helmet.

"You're...you're not gonna...kill anyone are you?" Gar questions as he walks back over.

"I told you, you're not gonna like it so you can either stay here or let me do my shit by myself. You'll have to fight me to stop me and we know I'll win. So it's your decision." You shrug.

Gar lets out a sigh, hoping he'll be able to talk you out of this. He gets on the bike and puts the helmet on before he holds onto you. You shake your head, sliding down your face shield before you take off. You head to a hideout that one of the men has been using.

You look at the abandoned building and roll your eyes. According to your few hours of research, he wasn't working with anyone closely besides the Joker but he's dead now. So, you figure this can't go terribly wrong and even if does, that would be fine.

"Stay." You state as you put your helmet on the bike.

"I'm coming—" Gar follows you.

You stop dead in your tracks, Gar bumping right into you. You spin around. "Gar, stay. I don't want you involved."

There's a fire in your eyes Gar hasn't seen before and he really doesn't want you to go in there alone. Nothing good is going to come from it.

"You're my best friend. I don't want you to do something you'll regret." Gar's voice is sympathetic.

"I won't regret this. Stay here." You shake your head and spin back around, hoping he'll actually listen to you.

Gar stays behind as he watches you head to the back of the building. Gar debates his loyalty. On the one hand, he knows he'll have to fight you and he doesn't want to do that. You're right, you'll win. He'll lose anyway. And you're his friend, he never wants to fight his friends. All it will do is cause more tension and you're in the middle of grieving your favorite person. That just doesn't seem right. But, Dick told him to make sure you don't get hurt or get someone killed. So, after just a few minutes of debating, he follows you with reluctance.

Gar rushes inside and by the time he gets inside, you're already throwing the R blades, the man pinned on the floor. He never stood a chance. You have a blade in his leg, in his arm, and in his abdomen.

"Please! I'll tell you whatever you want to do know!" The man begs as you stand over him.

"I don't want to know anything." You state, your hands glowing as you shrug down at him. You run over the list in your head, reminding yourself of every terrible, horrible, irredeemable thing he's done.

"I-I know where the Red Hood is!" The man panics and your eyes narrow.

This guy was working with the Joker so was Pete Hawkins. Red Hood killed Pete Hawkins, that makes sense. But, you find it odd anyway to mention it as he begs for his life. You're not here for the new guy. And you almost ask him why he thinks you are but that would mean offering him time and that's not what this is about.

"I don't care." You roll your eyes. "This has nothing to do with him. This is for every kid you turned to the freak ass clown." You stick your hand to his face as his skin starts to melt.

"Stop!" Gar yells, coming up behind you and yanking you away, the man screaming in agony as he rolls on the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me!" You wiggle in his grip, getting free. "Get the fuck out of here!"

"You're not gonna do this! We don't do this!" Gar gestures his arm at the man.

"I'm not a fucking we! I do what I want!" You scream back, shooting a blast of acid at the man as his screams die down. "See? All done."

You walk past Gar as Gar looks at the damage that's been done. He walks over, checking the man's pulse only for there to be nothing left. He just watched you kill someone in under ten minutes. This is bad. He has to snap you out of this. It's not going to bring Jason back. Nothing can bring him back and you need to find a way to deal with it that doesn't involve killing people.

"You can't do this!" Gar yells, you keeping your back to him as you reach the bike. "You can't kill people because you miss Jason! That's not gonna bring him back!"

He can't let you keep doing this. If this is your plan, some sort of revenge filled with grief, that's not you. He knows you, too and he swears it's not. You're the one who always said you weren't violent. It sucks and it hurts. It's always going to hurt, he knows that, but this isn't going to make the pain any less for you.

You look down and let out a hollowed, venom-filled chuckle. It's never going to be about missing him and that's the thing. He'll never get it. But, it's like this void has opened up in your chest, right where your heart used to be. A black hole, sucking everything inside of it but never being full. It's just a vast of nothingness and it's not about missing him.

"I'm not doing it because I miss him! Fuck." You scream, spinning around with your helmet in your hand. "I'm doing this for me and for Jason and for Dick and Molly and Diego and every other fucking kid that Bruce fucked over and the system fucked over because Bruce said that's fucking justice!"

"And do you think this," Gar gestures around him to the building. "Is justice?!"

"It's better than fucking nothing, Gar!" You let out a harsh breath. "We're the people left behind to suffer at the hands of people with bad intentions! Because we have no other choices! I'm doing this for all of us! I'm doing this for the life Jason should have had! For the life he deserved to have but never got the fucking chance because of bullshit circumstances! Just like me and Molly and Dick and Diego and all the others! So, you can either shut the fuck up and get the fuck on board, or try to fucking stop me."

Gar shakes his head and it's like he's losing you, too. Donna, Jason, and you. This is going to get you killed. You're going to go after the wrong person and it'll be the end. And this isn't you. You're mad and in the middle of grief. Grief is messy, it explodes and it always touches more than just the people in the thick of it. He can't just let you do this and end up regretting it.

"We don't kill people." Gar's voice is soft this time and for a split second, you actually feel bad. He wasn't even supposed to be involved but Dick insists on a babysitter. "And I-I don't want to fight you."

"I'm not a we anymore." You shake your head and shrug your shoulders. Your voice is etched with pain and it breaks Gar's heart all over again.

Your teeth grit and it's so painful, it's almost numbing to everything. Every day, it's hard and it isn't getting easier. And maybe you think you deserve the pain and numbness from all of it. If anyone should have known Jason was up to something, it should have been you. You put all of this blame on Bruce, but it eats at you, too. You both missed it. Everyone missed it. And the one fucking time he needed you to see it, you missed it and it got him killed.

"I don't want to fight you either but I will if you try to stop me and we both know I'll win." You suck in a breath knowing Gar wouldn't have it in him to actually stop you.

And maybe you're hoping it's a false sense of confidence. Maybe you think you deserve to fight him, have him not on your side anymore. Maybe you don't deserve it anymore.

You turn back around and get on the bike before putting your helmet on. It's not going to bring him back, you know. And it's not going to make you feel better. But, it's better than letting someone else go through what you and every other kid has so far. This city eats people alive. It takes and takes and takes and that is all it has ever done. You're tired of it. You're willing to live with the guilt of blood on your hands if it'll help even a few kids who've been left in the cold. Maybe you deserve it anyway.

"Dick is gonna be pissed." Gar sucks in a breath as he takes a few steps towards you.

"Kory kills people sometimes. Rose killed Deathstroke. I killed people from CADMUS when they attacked the tower. You killed someone once. Mr. Moral Highground himself just fucking killed the Joker. Why is it such a big fucking deal right now? Why is it so fucking bad right now?" Your voice is almost defeated.

Honestly, you wonder how it's always Gar caught in the crossfire. Maybe it's just because he's too empathetic, always seeing the good in everyone. It's still something you admire. But, he can't stop you and you desperately wish, he'd just understand.

"Because this isn't you." Gar's brows furrow as he stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets.

You look down and clear your throat, feeling the guilt start to eat at your chest. You're not sure what the guilt is though. The guy you just killed or for making Gar give you that look that screams desperation and disappointment.

"Maybe it always should have been though." You shake your head. "You know, he was bad, right?" You ask. "Like, working with the Joker. Joker had a few guys trafficking kids. Was gonna go after one, Pete Hawkins, but uh, Red Hood beat me to the punch so, next best I guess. So, he wasn't just some guy doing something bad." You explain.

"That doesn't make it better." Gar states. "Maybe we could have helped him get out of that."

"Nope, rap sheet five pages long." You suck in a harsh breath. "Okay, where do you stand on Bruce killing the Joker?"

"I-I...I mean..." Gar thinks killing is wrong, but...the Joker was always the worst of the worst. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. I think you don't like it but you're not gonna go and tell fucking Batman off for doing it. I think a part of you, might actually understand it." You gesture a hand towards him. "I'm not asking you to agree with me, Gar. I can't ask that of you. But I am asking you to just understand. You didn't grow up here and see this shit, okay?"

"I don't want you to kill people and I don't want you to regret this when it does get better. I know you don't want to hear that but it will."

"We talked about it, ya know?" You ask. "What we'd do after Robin and Batman. Team up and go after these guys. These guys rarely make it to Bruce's radar. It's not fair. Most of us aren't rich but that doesn't mean we're a sacrifice. That's what Bruce called us last night. What he called Jim Gordon, his fucking friend. A sacrifice. I'm tired of innocent people being a sacrifice for a city and for rich fucks that don't actually give a fuck about them unless the press is taking pictures and writing articles about how good they are. We did not say we'd kill anyone, but..." You shrug. "In and out of Blackgate and they learn nothing. Something permanent has to be done. So, I'm not gonna regret it."

He does not agree. There always has to be another way. If they all just started killing people because they think they're bad, how can that be justice? How can that be better than what's already going on? But, Gar can't argue it not without going round and round in circles. And he's never said anything about Kory or Rachel killing anyone. So, he decides, maybe he can try a little bit to understand even if he thinks he won't be able to.

"I'm not killing just anyone, I promise. I have a plan."

"That's not reassuring." Gar states.

"I know." You nod. "But, I promise. I know but can you offer me a little understanding, please? As my friend."

You're done arguing. Your throat hurts and your chest hurts. A headache is pecking at the back of your head, it's just exhausting arguing. Everything is exhausting lately.

Gar moves forward and takes the helmet. "Dick is gonna kill you."

"Eh, he'll bitch about it for a while and then get over it because I'm grieving." You roll your eyes. "Make him a hypocrite if he did something about it."

"Not funny." Gar scolds as he gets on the back.

"Wasn't a joke." You quip. "Hold on."

You spend the day not killing people but by tormenting some of the guys on your list. You beat them up and taunt them, threaten them and scare them. Gar still isn't happy with excessive force but it is better than you killing them. He wonders why you even killed the first guy. But a part of him is a little afraid to even ask. Knowing you, you do have a reason for it. And he doesn't want to give you the bright idea to kill all of them.

Your last stop is Jerry's old house. You hate how your hands shake and the lump in your throat grows. It's more now. It's more than the torture that lingers in your bones because with his house also comes the memories of Jason.

That night was the night you knew something was going on with you. You remember that moment in the bathroom where Dick interrupted you and how your heart was thundering so loud you swore it'd wake up the whole tower. You remember how good it felt and thrilling and the look on his face. That was the night he read to you. This is not that house but it reminds you of that night anyway. This house brought back all of your nightmares. You can't kill Jerry right now, but you can do something about the house. He'll, hopefully, get word of it and know you'll come for him one day. The house is the start.

You suck up your fear and memories as you close the distance and shoot acid on the side panel of the house before pulling out a match. Gar stands right beside you and he knows the house. He remembers it when him and Jason looked into you.

"What are you doing?" Gar asks.

"Burning it down." You state as you light the match, tossing it onto the acid, watching the flames burn. "Suit? Flame retardant. Acid? Flammable." You walk around the other side and repeat the same thing until the house is engulfed in flames. "Tested it out last night, just to make sure." You watch the flames and Gar isn't sure how to feel about it. At least no one was inside, you checked, and this is your business. This is your thing. You're not hurting anyone at least. "Gonna lecture me about vandalism?" You look over at him.

"No." Gar shakes his head. "I'm definitely calling the fire department though." Gar sucks in a breath, the fire warming his face a little too much for his comfort.

"Can you give it a minute? Just to make sure there's no saving it." You look at him. "We can stay and watch it burn, make sure it doesn't get too out of control and no one gets hurt."

"Okay." Gar agrees as you move to stand by the bike and watch the house burn. "Does this help?"

"Yeah." You nod your head. "He's not getting life, ya know? Jason, uh, he kept a file on him. He kept tabs so I wouldn't have to." You shake your head. "But, he got a lot of time but he can still come back and pick it up again. At least he'd need a new house and I'll see him coming. Not another kid."

"It is more than Jason." Gar nods his head with a sense of understanding.

"Yeah," You nod, your eyes trained on the house. "He's just the last straw for me. I think he'd find it funny and then ask why I didn't take a flame thrower."

"Flame thrower?" Gar questions. "Why the hell would you have a flame thrower?"

"Molly and me were walking and we hit this house. I don't know how I missed it. But, I did. And uh, I had a panic attack so bad I just...broke right on the side of the road. It was like I was back in San Francisco, in the basement all over again. Molly called Jason and he sat in front of me and snapped me out of it. Then he asked if I wanted to burn it down. He could get a flame thrower from the Batcave and we're both flame retardant." You laugh softly as your eyes burn.

"Oh, so he gave you this bright idea." Gar lets out a soft chuckle. It definitely sounds like something Jason would have said to make you feel better.

"He had some good ideas on occasion." You laugh softly as you hear sirens coming. "Well, someone beat ya to it. Let's head out." You let out a sigh as you grab your helmet and hand the other to Gar. "Thanks for not stopping me." You nod. "I'll tell Dick you tried."

"It's okay." Gar nods as he takes the helmet. "No one got hurt...here." Gar sucks in a breath.

The two of you get on the bike and head back to the manor. Gar reports to Dick when you get back. For a second, he debates even telling him what happened. Some part of him wants to understand because you're his friend. He believes you think you're doing what's right but it's hard for him to understand even though he doesn't give Kory a hard time. He didn't give Rachel a hard time when she killed people. But, Dick is looking at him expectantly and he can't lie to him. So, he tells Dick what happened.

Dick finds you in the Batcave later that night, deciding he'd like to have the conversation without the other Titans around. Dick swears this is the grief talking and the other Titans don't need to be involved. You're right, they have bigger problems right now. Their focus should be there, especially given the events that happened today. He can handle you.

"Do you feel better?" Dick questions as he paces in front of you with his arms crossed.

"Well, I guess that depends on your definition of feeling better." You shrug your shoulders as you exit out of your screens on the Batcomputer.

"Are you serious right now?" Dick fumes.

"Pretty much." You answer simply.

If Gar can't get you to go back on your plan, Dick definitely can't. He's giving you that disappointed look that makes you almost groan. You're not in the mood for not only a lecture from him but another lecture about how you don't kill people.

"We don't kill people."

You almost laugh at the irony. "I'm not a we anymore in case you missed the memo." You snark. "I'd like to go to bed though. If you don't mind." You get up from your spot but Dick steps in front of you to stop you.

"We aren't done here. I know. I know how hard this is for you. But I promise, you will regret this." Dick tries to reason with you.

"I don't think so. We're different people. I don't feel all too bad about it." You lie. You feel a little bad about it. You're not a monster. "I'm going to bed unless you have anything else you want to say." You let out a breath as you cross your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, I have more to say. You're not going out alone anymore. You're taking Gar with you and you're not going to keep killing people. That's not what Titans do and that's not what you do."

"So, Gar is my babysitter? Gar tried and I still killed the guy today. Do you think that's gonna stop me?"

"Yes. You'll start to feel bad for making Gar stick around."

You narrow your eyes at him and he makes a good enough point. But, you're still pretty sure you'll keep up with your plan. You'll just find a way around Gar.

"Anything else or?"

Dick lets out a sigh and of course there's more. His first night, he went into Jason's room and found a formula. But, you've been either screaming, sobbing, or catatonic the last few days and he hasn't had much of a chance to ask anything.

"Okay, look, I need your help."

You let out a laugh. "I can't kill people and now you need my help." You roll your eyes. "With what?"

"Jason was making a drug, what do you know?" Dick cuts to the chase.

You shake your head in disbelief. Why the fuck would Jason be making a drug? Does Dick really have so little faith in him? You're actually offended Dick would think he was making a drug. It's one of the most insane things you've ever heard and you live with Bruce Wayne.

"Wow, okay, yeah that's fucking rich. He was not making a drug, Dickolas." You scoff.

"Look, I found this formula in his room." Dick pulls the paper out of his pocket and hands it over.

You look at it but you've never seen it before and it's definitely Jason's handwriting. It's messy and still somehow legible. But that still doesn't make any sense. Jason wanted to target dealers and the cooks. You always assumed it was because of his mom and once people are hooked, they'd be more vulnerable to everything.

You hand it back. "I have no fucking idea." You let out a scoff and apparently, he was keeping a whole lot from you.

"Bullshit. You knew him better than anyone."

"Yeah, and I missed him going after the fucking Joker, too." You strike back. "I don't know. I've never fucking seen it, he never mentioned it probably because he knew I'd chew him out for it. I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste iron. "Look, he's dead, it doesn't matter." The words are bitter on your tongue and they weigh heavy in your throat. But, it's true. You don't want to hear about it. He's dead, he's gone, it doesn't matter.

"I think it does." Dick protests. He doesn't understand how Jason was making a drug and somehow, no one knows anything about this.

"Why? He's dead. He's gone. Shit isn't gonna bring him back." You brush past him, feeling the caving of your chest start again.

Dick calls your name as you look back at him. "There was something going on."

"Yeah, apparently so but I don't know shit. Wish I did though." You turn back around. The drug is going to eat at you and it'll eat at Dick. You're tired of things eating at you and today is bothering you but not for the killing. So, you change subject. "Hey, okay, uh, you guys actually going after the new guy?"

"We're putting together a case. He killed a woman today, a mother." Dick explains. "Do you know something?"

"No," You shake your head. "But, uh, that guy I killed today, thought I was looking for him. He's called the Red Hood, by the way. Just...thought it was fucking weird and thought you might wanna know. Molly said he showed up at her apartment with Diego Martinez, a missing kid she was looking for. Pete Hawkins trafficking kids to the Joker and he was one of them."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Instead of begging for his life, he told me he knew where the Red Hood was. I, uh, thought it was weird. I think he was lying and uh, I have no idea how he knew about Molly." You let out a scoff because that part is going to bother you until you get an answer.

"Why would go to your friend? Are you sure you don't know anything else about him?"

"I swear, I have no fucking idea. That's why I'm telling you. Shit is weird, even for Gotham. If I knew more, I'd tell you. Weird he'd kill a random woman but Molly said he just seemed intimidating. I asked more about it later and she said Diego was fine and the Red Hood was nice to him. So...again, weird."

Dick lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. Of course, something can't be simple in Gotham. There always has to be something else going on and Dick agrees, this just seems weird. And it doesn't make any sense. What is his motive anyway?

"Well, good talk." You let out a sigh. "Just thought you'd like that information in case it was useful. I'm going to bed." You offer Dick a nod before you walk off and exit the Batcave, leaving Dick with a bigger headache.

The next day, the Titans are working on the Red Hood case, something about a chess play. Dick went to Jonathan Crane for help over it which he was not happy about. You choose not even to get involved with that one. You have your own thing you want to do anyway and maybe a part of you, doesn't entirely know how to feel about the Red Hood. He did save Diego and maybe others for all you know and he didn't hurt Molly when he could have. Though, he did kill an innocent woman. So, you're just not getting involved right now, instead you mind yourself to your room for most of the day.

But, then you get a call from someone, an unknown number.

"Meet me at the old gym." He says, his voice disguised by a voice modulator.

You pull the phone from your face, looking at it with confusion before you put it back to your ear. "Yeah, who the fuck are you and why the fuck would I do that?" You snark back.

"Meet me at 8 tonight."

"Why?" You question back.

"Just go to the roof. Eight O'clock." He says before the line goes dead.

You pull the phone from your head again and look at the dark screen. What are you even supposed to do with that? On the one hand, it would be really stupid to listen to a random voice from an unknown number. But, it's also weird enough that it makes you kind of want to go. You don't talk to anyone. The only people who even have your number are the Titans and Molly. A lot of weird shit is currently going on and you would like at least one answer. It might be really stupid, but you figure you'll go anyway and you'll just be prepared for it to go south.

Lucky for you, the Titans had some Red Hood business to take care of that involved all of them looking for possible victims. That gave you the perfect opportunity to leave right when you needed to without having to worry about ditching Gar along the way.

You get to the old gym and walk right in, almost no fear in your bones. You walk right through and into the pool area. The pool is gross, slimy. It looks like it hasn't been used in years, which it hasn't. And the smell of algae sticks to the walls, making you grimace behind your mask. So, you keep walking until you reach the stairs that lead to the roof.

Once on the roof, you walk over to the edge, resting your forearms on the ledge. Your stomach doesn't drop anymore. Anxiety doesn't flood your veins and you don't even feel the slightest bit dizzy. You think it's because of the grappling around the city. You had no choice but to get over your fear of heights. But you know that's not all of it. Fear doesn't follow you very much these days.

You feel someone walk up beside you a few minutes later, barely getting a glimpse of them out of the corner of your eyes.

"Who are you and what the hell do you want?" Your voice is flat as you keep your stare on the gloomy city below.

"Really did get over your fear of heights, huh?" The voice questions, a voice modulator changing it. He's a little surprised you came, honestly. But, it's you, of course you did. You hate unanswered questions and he knows that.

You look over to see the new so-called crime lord. He's wearing a red helmet, the eyes white and there's no mouth. He's got a black padded suit on with a red symbol right in the middle of his chest that looks like a play on the Batman symbol. And above his suit, he's wearing a red hoodie under a brown leather jacket. It's a look.

Red Hood.

New crime lord trying to take over Gotham and leaving no one in his wake that crossed his path. He's brutal and ruthless. But methodical, has a plan and is never caught off guard. Smart, quick, sharpshooter. And as you remember every horrible thing you've read, you nod once because you think this is finally it.

Finally, after all these years of suffering and misery, someone is gonna end it all for you. That has to be the reason you're standing here right now. Maybe that guy you killed was working for him. Cross his path in the wrong way, and he'll just kill you. You're so certain that's what it is and you almost feel relieved as you look back to the city.

"Yeah well." You state, bypassing how he'd even know you were afraid of heights in the first place. "If you're gonna kill me, can you just like do it already?" Your voice is so flat and emotionless, Jason freezes.

You've given up. You gave up on the fight the day he died. And he was worried about that. When the drug wears off, it comes back. Every piece of fear he's ever felt floods back over him and one of those fears is always you. How you're going to react to knowing he's alive, how you're going to react knowing he died, how you've been doing. He can see it in the way your eyes scan the city that you're done. And he hates himself for it.

"I'm not gonna kill you. Why would I kill you?" He asks and he's glad his voice is disguised.

"It's what you do." You chortle. "It's fine, really. I'm sure I crossed you or whatever. To be expected." You glance at him once more before you look back to the city. "Just, uh, take my phone and call Dickolas. Make sure he's the one that finds me because if you don't, that means my friend will and I really, really don't want him to deal with that. It fucking sucks." You nod as you roll your eyes. "Consider it my dying wish."

"Dramatic as always." Jason lets out a chuckle. "You know I'm not gonna fucking kill you because you got that combat thing." He says and he's buying time, trying to get the courage to tell you.

You pause, looking at him slowly. One person that knows referred to it that way. It was always Jason. He always said it was a combat thing. And the only people who even know are the Titans.

You look back to the city and you're about to rip his helmet off yourself. He gave the woman a paper with a chess move and a code. The code was Robin, he asked for Nightwing. That's what Gar said before he left tonight with the Titans. Red Hood knows where Molly lives, he has your phone number and clearly knows about the combat clairvoyance. There is one person who would know all of that and he's dead. So, this is getting a bit frustrating and concerning.

"Why are you acting like you know me?" You huff as you look back at him.

He's leaning with an elbow on the ledge, his weight shifted to his right leg. He's standing so casually and it's almost familiar but at this point, you think you're just fooling yourself. You can't do this.

"Yeah, I'm leaving." You push off the ledge and start to walk off but he grabs your arm gently.

You stop and look at his hand on your arm. He's wearing brown leather gloves that match his jacket. This feels familiar, too and you swear anything would feel familiar because you're desperate. It's just the desperation and the grief. But, it feels familiar and you hate it.

"Wait." He says. "Don't go, alright?" He drops his hand and you let out a sigh, leaning back against the ledge.

"Fine." You let out a sigh and go back to looking at the city. "Can you just tell me what the fuck is going on, please?" You ask and Jason can hear the desperation in your voice. "I have had a shit fucking week and I just....would like to go back to bed." You let out a sigh another sigh. You're tired of the games.

Jason hangs his head and he knows you're going to lose it. You're going to be mad and he's going to have to deal with it. He really, desperately wishes he would have taken the drug before he walked up here. It'd definitely be nice right about now. But, he swore, if he was going to do this, he'd have to do it this way because you would figure it out. That's not the plan and at the end of day, he came back knowing he'd never involve you. You have to know and he wishes this were easier.

But, he takes off the helmet anyway.

"Please, don't be mad."

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A/n: I just wanna say thank you again to everyone who leaves a comment and/or reblogs. I go back and reread them all the time and it makes me really happy 😭 I'm really sorry if I don't always respond I just don't know what to say sometimes lmao or my chronic illness flares up and I just kind of...post and log off and I don't usually comment from Tumblr mobile lol So, I'm sorry if I don't respond but I promise it means so much to me 😭😭😭

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

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kit-kat-katie · 1 year

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There Are No Victors, Only Survivors

A/N: First fic ever on here... I'm a little nervous, but excited to start a new chapter in my life! Let me know what you think of this! [ I also read the books 7 years ago and I'm almost done binge-watching the movies so don't burn me alive if I get the lore wrong :) ]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader (platonic or romantic)

Summary: After winning the games, you go on camera to discuss your win with Caesar. Footage of the games causes you to recall a painful memory, one you'd rather leave in that arena.

TW: Trauma from the games, large crowds, murder

The crowd screams your name as you enter the stage. Your ears still ring from the sound of canons, your mind is numb from the numerous deaths you witnessed and caused, and your lips are dry even though you had plenty to eat and drink before this.

Caesar kindly waves you over, and you stick a warm smile on your face as you head towards him.

"Our victor, everyone!"

The crowd goes wild, and you bow to absorb as much attention and positivity as you need. You're a possession of the Capital now, and any out-of-line move could end with 24 dead tributes instead of 23.

It's just an interview, just like before the games. Stay calm... you can do this.

"Now, there are many pressing questions that the people of Panam want to know... including myself," Caesar nudges your side, and you laugh as if it's the funniest joke you've ever heard, "but there is one question that is on all of our minds: who did you hear after the jabberjays were released?"

You pause, and the smile slips from your face for a moment before you notice a camera. You quickly recover with a small head shake.

"My mom and my dad, of course." You gracefully answer.

"Really? No special someone? You seemed too torn up after that bird followed you around for three whole days." He exaggerates, and the crowd has a mixed reaction to his question.

"I-" You pause as you hear footage play from the screen behind you.

The crushing of leaves and the pounding of your heart are the only rhythms that your ears hear. Your feet carry you along, but your mind is in a much different place.

The game makers, after deciding that their handmade hell wasn't enough torture, decided to send each contestant a jabberjay just to see what would happen.

The screams of your mother and father were the first, and you immediately jumped up from your hiding spot to find them. When you realized that the sound was coming from a bird, you tried to bury your head in the sand and continue along as if nothing was happening.

The cries of loved ones turned into the cries of your friends. The ones that you had trained with in District 4 before you had been reaped. Those kids, especially the younger ones, gave you the motivation to keep fighting.

You didn't sleep the first night, and the second night was interrupted by nightmares and cannons booming every other hour. You figured that the other tributes had gone mad and had taken their anger out of each other.

...Good thing you kept away from the pack and tried to survive on your own.

The third day, however, was your breaking point. The screams of your friends had died out, and you thought that damn bird had finally left you alone. You were a defenseless fool in that moment, especially when the scream perfectly matched Finnick's voice.

He was your mentor, your friend, and had been your rock when you were scared of being another victim of the games. Hearing his screams, his cries for help... it broke you behind anything that had happened to you so far.

You didn't hesitate to pick up a rock and strike the bird right between its eyes, killing it on the spot.

After that, you came crashing to the ground with tears in your eyes. You didn't eat or drink anything that day as your thoughts were consumed with worries of his safety.

When you looked up to the sky to see the tributes that were honored at night, you realized that there was only one left: a career from District 2.

You didn't have to do much, as she stumbled upon your camp later that night. You managed to gather yourself enough to grab a knife, but she didn't attack you.

The desperation, the fear, the anger inside of her eyes... but everything else about her was deflated and depressed. You were sure that you looked the same, if not worse.

She closes her eyes for a moment, and you say a small prayer before throwing the knife into her chest.

The last cannon went off, and your ears were buzzing as you were announced as the newest victor. Nothing seemed real anymore, for all you knew, everyone you had already cared about was dead and the jabberjays were just used to mock you.

After being airedlifted out of the arena, you were taken to the Capital, where Mags and Finnick were waiting for you. You nearly fell over when you took a step towards them.

"Easy there, honey. Don't want you hurting yourself before your big interview." Finnick catches your arm, and you softly thank him before taking Mags' hand.

"The jabberjays, they sounded like my parents and my friends and..." You pause as a few tears slip past your eyes, "and you two."

He pulls you into a warm hug as you bawl your eyes out, not only for the three lives you had to take inside of that arena but for the part of you that died in there as well.

"So, who is that someone that had you all choked up, huh?"

You blink for a beat as you pull yourself back into reality.

"My best friend - they're my everything, they've been my rock for so many years, and I'm so happy that I get to see them again."

The crowd eats up your answer like it's a five-course buffet as Caesar smiles at you.

"Well, I'm glad that they are part of the reason that we have such an amazing victor!" He takes your hand and raises it high, and the crowd in the Capitol grows louder.

Your body was there, and your innocence was destroyed in the arena, but your thoughts and feelings were settled on one special person.

Finnick.

#thg x reader #thg #the hunger games #x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fluff #fanfic #thg finnick #finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader

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crushedsweets · 8 months

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tumblr user crushedsweets i am here to ask you another question about toby nat and nina. if nina was able to convince them into having a sleepover, how do you think it would go. what games would they play? what snacks would they make? who would inevitably wind up passing out on the floor with the other two comfortable on the bed? who would fall asleep first? i love them so much and i love your hcs for them

tumblr user anon i am here to cry because this is the perfect ask.... ok im starting now. this is mostly nina-centric cuz toby and nat are just following along. much more playful type headcanons

ok. ok.

toby would totally let nina and nat stay the night at his cabin if the other proxies were gone, he wouldn't need much convincing cuz nat already stays over a lot and ninas ... sweet enough. but in that case he wouldn't let them do any sleepover type stuff bc 'its my house im not watching twilight' (twilight reminds him of lyra). it wouldnt really be a fun sleepover or anything, but they'd bake cookies or something with nina for sure. prob got high/drunk too

now for more cutesy less edgy stuff...... i will be babygirlifying them all for these hcs... sorry not sorry. not canon to creeped(MAYBE).

BUT she'd definitely have to do more coaxing to get toby to come to her apartment. she lives in the city and that's not really his thing, but nat works over there so it's whatever to her.

assuming jeff is gone (only way tobys coming over), nina would be so cute about it. she'd have a blow up mattress set up in the living room, brought several bags of different candies and chips, put up random fairy lights, lit some candles so it smells sweet. her apartment is usually a little messy cuz she's a busy girl but for them . . she cleaned.

i could see nina being a really touchy person, constantly hooking arms with people and hugging them and playing with peoples fingers and stuff. it would take toby and nat forever to get used to it bc its admittedly kinda weird and invades personal space but she's so genuine with it and sweet and like :D theyre like OKAY FINE . so they'd just be walking around doing whatever and nina would pop up grabbing them like 'what r u doing in my kitchen :) the movies still playing :) youre missing the climax :) theres food out there :) youre making me mad :)'. or sitting watching a movie n she dozes off on their shoulder. etc.

nina would be swapping movies between things like 'to all the boys ive ever loved' to like... saw. oddly enough nat and toby are more likely to sit still and watch the romcoms just cuz they get invested in the plot ... LMFAO

i cant see nina actually getting them to play any sleepover games, BUT she'd hook up a switch. she'd try to play smth like overcooked with them but they rage too fucking hard and she has to swap to like. a mario game.

ok maybe she could get them to play like 2 rounds of truth or dare or never have i ever.

nat would like sour and hard candy... toby would like chocolate candy and baked stuff.... so nina would get the candy together and make them all bake some brownies.

she'd also make them make normal sugar cookies and try to decorate them but toby would make the ugliest fucking cookie possible and give up and let the girls decorate.

realistically nat and nina would end up on the air mattress and toby on the couch, BUT if they were stuck with just a bed, toby would take the floor. he'd offer cuz he's not about to share a bed with either of them.. but he'd prob wake up with nina on the floor too cuz nat KICKS in her sleep. nina curls up like a cat

nina falls asleep first. toby falls asleep last.

nina would try to convince them to let her do their makeup but toby would get irritated that she'd even ask. .

she'd defintely make them do skincare with her though .. nina uses snail mucin and the other two think she's weird.

the next morning ninas awake first and making pancakes. she walks away to go to the bathroom and gets distracted by washing her face and doing her hair and stuff and burns them so bad it wakes toby up... he comes in and turns off the stove and just waits for her to come back to call her dumb.

nat wakes up last and is so disorientated for like 30 mins after waking up... she just eats the food like a zombie until nina makes her wash her face again and shes up properly.

she'd try to get them to stay as long as possible, but theyre exhausted and as sweet as nina is, she's a bit much . . so they go home LOL. but nina would send them the cutest little "thank u for coming over i had fun i love u guys :3" text the next day and theyll feel kinda bad for leaving.

nina is just such a genuinely nice girl .... she just wants to live the teenage dream well into her 20s because she was um. Um. she behaved in a way. that um. highschool was not the most pleasant. and threw many of her teen years away for Um. a man. of sorts.

#hcs #ticci toby #nina the killer #clockwork creepypasta #natalie ouellette #creepypasta headcanon

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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

Text

Labyrinth

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: A dangerous Wendigo hunt takes the Winchesters and their companion to an abandoned mine shaft and a maze of tunnels. Dean, on the other hand, not only has to find an exit in an underground cave system but also fights against his feelings for a young huntress as he battles through a labyrinth of thoughts and fears.

Warnings: a bit of language, angst, a trifecta of monsters, caves & earthquakes, canon-level violence, injuries & rebars, protective!Dean, idiots in love, silly jealousy, fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Written as a request for @tieddown-withbattleshipchains. Hope this scratches the itch! It turned out a little angstier because Wendigos scare the shit outta me, but there’s tons of fluff in between and certainly at the end! 🥰 Inspired by Labyrinth by Taylor Swift (Duh. What else? 😂) and my favorite horror flick The Descent. Enjoy!

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Have you ever loved someone so much that just being in their distanced proximity hurts your heart? Loved someone so much that every time they pass you by, their scent drives you mad, their voice gives you shivers, and your own words fail to come clean? So much that lunacy seems like sanity?

Well, Dean pretty much feels precisely like this, feels like he’s going slowly but surely insane as he trails behind Y/N through the woods of Montana. Every wind, even the tiniest breeze, wafts microscopic particles of her perfume into his nostrils, causing him to bite the insides of his cheeks harder, hoping the metallic taste will erase everything that is her. So far, not even the intense smell of pine helps, though. For the last half an hour, all he keeps thinking about is the huntress he’s known for years, wondering if he were able to taste the M&Ms she ate earlier in the car on her tongue once he would finally gather enough courage to kiss her – not that this fantasy would ever be maintainable in the first place.

It’s like a kid’s dream. Dean’s a rockstar, an astronaut, and a pilot all at once whenever he’s near her.

“I think we should be there in an hour,” Y/N muses and halts in her boots to check map and compass, Sam instantly joining her to take a look over her shoulder. “The mine shaft and the cave system are a few miles up the mountain. If we follow the trail along the river, it should lead us right there.”

“Sounds good. We still have enough daylight,” Sam agrees with a resolute nod and a look to the sky, where the sun is still standing high above their heads.

Dean, on the other hand, ignores the eerie feeling in his gut. Aware Y/N is a seasoned hunter with a superb skill set, he knows there’s no real reason for him to worry more than he should. She can handle herself; she always could. It’s a hunt like any other, one of many over the years. Hell, it’s not even the first Wendigo they’ve hunted together. There was another one three years back in Michigan. So truly, what’s different this time?

Right, his fucking feelings…

Y/N and Sam keep chatting as they cheerily march up the mountain, their breaths not even remotely labored, even though the climb is pretty steep. Apparently, going for a jog every morning pays off. Dean, however, stays quiet and trails behind them, green eyes observing their surroundings as he swallows the tiny bit of apprehension and jealousy down.

“You’re quiet today,” Y/N notes and purposely falls back to his speed as Sam wanders ahead – not before the younger Winchester shoots his older brother a secret look that says tell her, though. “You okay?”

The green-eyed hunter mirrors the small smile on her lips and nods, gulping, “Yeah, I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Y/N accepts with a slight pout, although she’s obviously far away from buying his lie. She licks her lips and adjusts the straps of her backpack on her shoulders. “So, uhm, after the hunt, I figured we could check out that bar across the motel?”

“Sounds good,” Dean agrees, his smile widening and cheeks blushing, even though it’s just the usual hunter invitation to celebrate the end of a case.

“Okay, great,” Y/N lets out a small breath of relief. Was she nervous to ask him? Why the hell would she be? “I actually have to tell you something, so I could use a little liquid courage.”

Dean’s brow furrows, his heart rate accelerating. “Liquid courage? For what? You know you can always tell me everything.”

“Not everything,” Y/N mumbles and averts her gaze to the trail ahead.

“C’mon, what is it?” Maybe it’s wishful thinking or sheer curiosity, but Dean can’t help it and hopes she feels the same way he does, although it sounds like complete insanity again. She’ll probably only confess that she’s been in love with Sam this whole time. He is the smarter choice, after all. Just look at that flawless mane of hair!

Y/N only shakes her head at him and hides a mischievous grin behind her lip bite. “Nuh-uh, forget it. Not drunk enough yet,” she says and then hops forward to join Sam again.

After an hour, the three hunters finally reach the mine shaft that leads to an intricate cave system – the perfect hideout for a monster. Eight women disappeared here last week, the location a popular hotspot for everyone who seeks thrills and adventures. Dean doesn’t count himself as one of those people. His life is adventurous enough as is. Frankly, he would’ve preferred pay-per-view at the motel over this hellish trip.

Equipped with flashlights, the three carefully stalk inside. It’s incredibly dark and humid, low growls echoing off the stony, muddy walls, so the hunters know they’ve found the right place. The monster is definitely here, even though it still sounds miles away, which isn’t ideal. It only means they have to venture further in, and Dean already hates this with every fiber of his goddamn being. Caves are not exactly his favorite hunting grounds. Y/N, however, seems as fearless as ever, and Dean can’t help but admire her endless bravery. Obviously, she’s so out of his league it’s not even a little bit funny.

“Did you guys hear that?” Y/N stops in her tracks, her ears perked as she surveys the array of noises that bleed through.

“Woman’s voice?” Dean checks, although he’s sure all three of them can hear the faint screams and whimpers.

“One of ‘em is still alive, apparently,” Sam muses, concern and sympathy etched into his brow.

“I think it’s coming from here,” Y/N says and holds her ear to a small cave opening in the wall – if you can even call it that, the entrance as big as a cartoonish mouse hole.

“We can’t fit in there. We need to find another way around it,” Sam informs them and pulls out the cave map they’ve received from a park ranger.

“You guys can’t fit in there.”

“What?!” Dean’s head snaps to Y/N as soon as those words leave her mouth, seeing the gears turning in her head.

“I’m small… unlike my broad-shouldered friends. I can fit,” she shrugs casually as if it wasn’t the craziest suggestion she’d ever made.

“Mm-mm, no. You’re not squeezing through a small tunnel with a monster waiting for you on the other side, Y/N,” Dean tells her sternly, only one sharp tone away from making it a full-on order.

“Dean, she might be dead by the time we get there. I can do this,” Y/N assures him. “This isn’t my first Wendigo, you know?”

As Dean glances at Sam for some support, surely convinced his little brother would come to the same conclusion, the green-eyed hunter soon notices Sam’s suspicious silence on the subject matter and frowns. So much for brotherly support…

“Dean, it might be the only way to save that girl,” Sam agrees. Of course, the gentle giant does.

“Alright, so we all agree,” Y/N smiles and throws her backpack on the ground, pulling out a few flares, a machete, and a lighter.

“No, we don’t,” Dean shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t agree. Not at all. Very much disagree with this plan, in fact.”

“Okay, noted. It’s still two against one, so sorry. Guess you’re losing this one, De,” Y/N says simply and then puts the flashlight into her mouth, proceeding to crawl through the narrow opening.

Dean’s close to grabbing her ankles and pulling her back out, not caring about any surefire protests on her part and the huntress’s wrath as his heart pounds so harshly and loudly against his ribs it almost sounds like a Neil Peart drum solo in his chest.

“Y/N, you still okay?” Dean checks after a minute when the soles of her shoes have disappeared from his sight. As he shines his flashlight into the tunnel, he recognizes her a few feet ahead. “I don’t like this,” he tells Sam, chewing roughly on his plump bottom lip while his brow is in a constant crinkle.

“Me neither, but it’s the only choice we have, Dean,” Sam counters and focuses back on the map in his hands.

“Oh, is it?!” Dean mocks in sheer sibling annoyance. “You better find out where that tunnel leads and how we can fucking get there,” he barks as the anxiety claims his lungs. “Fast.”

“Already on it,” Sam assures him.

Dean’s heart only gets a single second free of concern, though, before Y/N’s voice rings every alarm bell in his goddamn head.

“Guys? There’s something wrong here. And there’s definitely blood and… stuff in this tunnel,” Y/N informs them, her voice barely audible the farther she gets. “It’s really gross…”

“Okay, Y/N, just get back out here. We’ll find another way,” Dean orders her, his flashlight and eyes unable to see her as he peers into the hole again. Her sweet voice is all he has left now.

“I-I don’t think I can move back out, De,” she says, her tone laced with slight panic now. “This thing is kinda tight. Kinda like… You know what? Never mind.” Dean knows she attempted a dirty joke there, one he certainly would’ve appreciated if he wasn’t currently fearing for her life. “I can only go forward. Just meet me at the end, okay?”

Quite panicked himself at this point, the green-eyed hunter turns back to his brother, “You found it yet?”

“Uh, yeah, I think it’s that way,” Sam muses and points at one of three tunnel options ahead.

“You think or you know, Sam?!”

And because misery loves company, at this exact moment, the ground, the walls, the ceiling all suddenly begin to violently shake and tremble, small pieces of stone and dirt coming loose. There’s a “shit” echoing through Y/N’s tunnel that reaches the hunter’s ears before more rumblings follow, more stones fall, and the tunnel closes completely and cuts the huntress off from the brothers.

“Was that a fucking earthquake?” Dean tries to shield his head from falling debris and coughs the dirt from his lungs before frantically checking the small tunnel for proof of life, but all he can see is dirt, dust, and more stones. “Y/N? Y/N! Are you alright, sweetheart? FUCK!”

“Dean, c’mon, we’ll find her,” Sam soothes and heads for the far left tunnel opening.

“Why is there a fucking earthquake in Montana? It’s not freaking California,” Dean huffs as he stomps behind his little brother, hoping the huntress is still alive and not hurt too badly as he speeds up his strides. Either she’s been crushed to death, or a monster will munch on her, and needless to say, neither option is acceptable to him.

“Actually, Montana has seven to ten every day, which makes it the fourth most seismically active state,” Sam shares his National Geographic knowledge nonchalantly, earning him an angry scowl from the green-eyed hunter.

Yeah, guess what – Dean’s not super interested in random nerd facts right now.

There’s a loud scream that echoes through the cave system, and for an agonizing heartbeat, Dean halts in his boots as he recognizes the voice. No doubt it’s Y/N’s, and his feet set into motion and start running, following the noises of struggle as he rounds corner after corner, blindly running into different tunnels as Sam tries to keep up with him.

The maze of cave tunnels feels as familiar as his mind, a labyrinth of unknown paths that lead him to different options. But the green-eyed hunter doesn’t need a map anymore; he knows exactly where to find her without wasting a single thought on it. His heart is still the best navigation system.

There’s a flicker of red light at the end of his path, and Dean knows Y/N is close. There are growls and hisses before he hears the huntress desperately call his name – his and not Sam’s. It definitely shouldn’t warm his heart the way it does, especially in a life-or-death situation like this, but Dean literally can’t help the slight relief and happiness he feels in his chest over that fact, although he probably shouldn’t read too much into it.

Y/N’s brightly burning flare comes into view first before his emerald eyes spot the huntress on the ground and then the monster. She’s fending off the Wendigo as best as she can, keeping it at bay as she waves her flare in the air like a weapon, but Dean notices soon enough that she can’t move much and is hurt badly.

The older hunter quickly grabs the hairspray, pushes down on the dispenser, and lights the aerosol mist of chemicals on fire with his lighter – Y/N’s genius idea for a weapon, which she came up with in the motel room before their hunt. The flames shoot out and set the monstrous bastard on fire while Sam aims the flamethrower and incinerates the monster for good. Tarantino style, as Dean likes to call it. Unfortunately, he lost the round of Rock, Paper, Scissors over the glorious weapon to his younger brother, but truthfully, the hairspray was still satisfying enough.

As the monster turns to ash, Sam runs to the half-alive victim tied to a pole while Dean rushes to the huntress’s side. He cups her cheeks as she winces, inspecting her whole body and assessing her for injuries when he notices the small piece of rebar stuck in the side of her stomach, blood oozing out around the metal and pooling underneath her body.

“Ow, shit,” Y/N hisses and tries to wiggle, hand curling around his bicep. Dean’s hands quickly steady her before she accidentally drives the damn thing even deeper into her body.

“Shhh, don’t move, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay, alright?” Dean assures her, although he’s frankly not sure if his calming words are more for his sake than hers. “Just breathe in and breathe out... There you go.”

“I-I don’t… I’m, uhm…,” Y/N trails off, her eyelids fighting to stay open, and his heart only begins to hammer louder in his ribcage, drumming in his ears.

“Y/N? Y/N, stay awake for me, okay?” But her eyes close for good, her palm lifelessly dropping from his arm to the ground. “SAM!”

“Dean, you can’t keep staring at her,” Sam reminds him, his voice only faintly audible behind the green-eyed hunter as his mind solely focuses on Y/N’s unconscious body in the motel room bed. “She’s gonna be creeped out when she wakes up.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles and hears Sam’s sigh of frustration and resignation.

“Alright, Twilight. I’ll grab more stuff from the pharmacy. She’s gonna need it,” Sam announces, hand reaching for the doorknob. “Be back in a few.”

As the door of the small motel room closes, Dean lets his head fall between his knees as he sits on the chair next to her bed, the tension still very much prominent in his shoulders and neck, although she should be in the clear by now. It certainly has been touch-and-go for a while, Y/N drifting in and out of consciousness, passing out from the pain as the brothers carefully removed the sharp piece of metal from her lower abdomen and stitched her up. Sam even had to send the older Winchester for a calming drive in the Impala while the younger one tended to her injuries, not being able to work with Dean’s constant yelling in his ears. The green-eyed hunter had surely been close to a breakdown. Luckily, they could forgo the hospital this time, the rebar not piercing through any serious organs and rupturing a spleen or a kidney.

His green eyes drift to her sleeping form. She seems a lot better now, some pinkish color having returned to her cheeks. Y/N always scares him, usually because she’s so much smarter and tougher than him, and every time he tried to order her around in the past always backfired, with her almost biting his whole head off. This time, though, she terrified him in a completely different way. She was pale, white as a sheet in his arms as he rushed her down the mountain. He swears he’s never run faster in his life. Even Sam, the professional jogger and marathon runner, could barely keep up, and Dean still feels the aching blisters from his boots whenever he shuffles on his feet too much.

“What would I have done if you died, huh?” the hunter mutters under his breath to no one in particular, knowing she’s dead asleep, and screws open the cap of his flask, taking a big gulp of whiskey, letting the burning liquid numb his throat. “You know if I lost you…” Another sip keeps the pricking tears in his green orbs at bay while his mind is battling a breakthrough. “I-I just… I can’t do that, you know? Probably would take me my whole life to get over you. I know you don’t know that, but you’re really important to me, y’know? I mean, hell, you can’t hear me anyways, so I might actually admit it for once,” he sighs at his own stupidity, fingers tapping against the silver flask. “I’ve been in love with you, Y/N… for a while, actually. At least, I think that’s what all those icky twinges in my chest are. Doesn’t feel like heartburn, like after eating a cheeseburger... I mean, they’re pretty much only there whenever you’re around, so that’s gotta be it, right? Love. Not like I have a lot of experience with that… I mean, not that I’m a virgin. I’ve had sex, you know? I just… I’ve never done the feelings thing. At least not well, I guess. So, in that case, you could probably say I’m a feelings virgin…”

Dean then groans loudly and lets his head drop into his palms, rubbing a hand across his freckled face. “Jesus fucking Christ, fuck me. God, I sound like an idiot… Thank God you can’t hear me. This is like the worst trial run ever… I mean, not like I would actually ever have enough courage to tell you all that shit while you’re actually awake, you know? I’m kinda a coward when it comes to that stuff. I mean, let’s be honest here for a second, you don’t care about me, right? You probably have the hots for Sammy. Can’t really blame you. You know, I’m not a girl, but I get it. Sometimes I’d like to tug on that hair too, so…”

And that’s when Dean’s muscles suddenly stiffen, his cheeks draining all color as he notices Y/N’s whole body quaking. His heart stops as he hears the first few snorts that slowly morph into a giggle and then into a full-on laugh.

Shit…

“Are you fucking awake?!”

Y/N pops one eye open at first, carefully checking the extent of his angered shock before she dares to pry open the second one, a mischievous twinkle gleaming in her orbs and an amused smile shaping on her pink lips.

“Okay… How much did you hear?”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders as much as she can and chuckles, “Well, pretty much… all of it.”

Dean scoffs, shaking his head as the tips of his ears turn beet red in shame. “What kinda psycho bitch pretends to be asleep while a man pours his heart out, huh? You know, I thought you were practically fucking dead!”

Y/N snorts and rolls her eyes. “You did not. And I think you mean, ‘What kinda psycho bitch pretends to be asleep while an idiot pours his heart out?’”

“Okay, haha, funny,” Dean huffs and chugs his flask. Is it too late to go back to that cave and hope the Wendigo eats him? “Can we just pretend this never happened before Sam gets back, please?”

Y/N responds with a casual twitch of her shoulders as she props herself up on the mattress. “I mean, sure… If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want, okay?” Dean affirms, nodding. “Don’t want shit to be awkward between us from now on, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Y/N agrees. “I mean, it would be pretty awkward for you if I didn’t feel the same way about you, which I do.”

“Yeah, see? Glad you get it,” the hunter huffs before his head snaps to her, green eyes widening and growing to the size of the moon. “Wait, what?!”

Y/N’s laughter then fills the motel room, but he can barely hear it over his own pounding heartbeat. Did she just say what he thinks she said? No, right? He heard that wrong. Jesus fuck, he better not make an even bigger fool out of himself.

“You’re cute,” Y/N tells him then and starts chewing on her lower lip.

Dean swallows thickly. “What, uh, what does that mean?”

“Jesus, you really are a feelings virgin,” she snorts another laugh and winces, all the giggles hurting her freshly stitched wound. Good, Dean thinks. She surely deserves that pain.

His cheeks heat up as he awkwardly clears his throat. “Wha-, uh… Let’s not make that a thing, okay? Please?”

“Oh, it’s totally gonna be a thing,” Y/N teases, chuckling.

“Great, mhm…” God, someone help him.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Hm, yeah?”

Y/N doesn’t say anything more – all he feels then is her soft lips pressing against his. The tension finally dissipates from his shoulders, his muscles relaxing as he leans into the kiss, his heart thumping wildly in his chest before it drops between his boots. He breathes her in, breathes into the kiss as her tongue slyly sneaks into his mouth and deepens the overwhelming passion as his head becomes dizzier the longer it lasts.

As he fervently kisses her back, he has finally found the right exit and leaves the labyrinth of his mind behind him. He’s on the right path, and it’s goddamn better than his imagination.

A few more one-shots are coming your way this week, so stay tuned, my loves, and let me know if you enjoyed this fic 🥰🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy

Dean Tags: @parinarain @hobby27 @fromcaintodean

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #writing request #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester reader insert #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

Woodsmoke (Joel Miller x F! Reader x Joe 'Bear' Graves)

Chapter One: Kindling

Read (Here) on AO3

Masterlist

Rating: Mature (Rating will change) Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault (Non-explicit) Tags: Character Study, Angst (Literally so much angst), AU- Canon divergence, Sheep Farmer Joel Miller, Patrolman Joe 'Bear' Graves, Domesticity, PTSD, Night Terror, Love confessions, Rejection, Mutual Pining A/N: So this started off as me wanting to write PWP with Joel and Bear, and then it became smut with context, and now we're here at a three part chracter study that also includes porn, thank you for witnessing my descent into madness. Also a huge shoutout to @soapskneebrace @guyfieriii and @writeforfandoms for listening to my absolutely unhinged raving and ranting about this series. I don't know how I could have done this without you all

Summary:

When spring comes, it melts away the frost, blooms lilac and pink in the hills, and in your heart as well. Like the slow, steady drip of thawing glacier, the interior of your soul at last becomes revealed to you once more. Vivid and bright like forsythia, like jonquils and the first flowers of spring, it unfurls its delicate petals, turns towards the sun.

It's Joel, your heart reveals to you with a tender whisper. Joel, with his steadying and unflinching gaze, his brown eyes the same color of your coffee, his hands that speak of experience, of raw ability. It's Joel, who knocks on your door as you get ready for bed and murmurs a quiet goodnight, his eyes always resting on yours with words he doesn't speak. Joel, with his deep voice like raw timber, his presence a towering, gnarled oak tree that refuses to be felled.

You think you love him.

You don't think you can have him.

How it starts, you don't know. How it begins, however is with you.

With you, with the first time you see the sheep ranch nestled at the very edge of Jackson’s territory, at a distance. Atop the hill that descends into the valley below, your eyes trace across the grey and white bits of fluff that dot the hilly pasture. The cold autumn wind rakes through your hair, bites against your cheeks, freezes against your chapped lips. The reins in your hand feel like steel, tough, clutched tightly in your nervous, anxious grip.

Beside you, Tommy eyes you as you take in the sight before you. A few pastures. A barn, a chicken house, a garden, and atop the other side of the valley- a house. Quaint, quiet, a watchtower of the farm below.

Tommy breathes through his nose, his mare shifting with a little chuff that seems to match her rider's contemplation. He's been quiet for most of the journey, offering only small conversation in response to your quiet inquiries about your destination.

"He's a loner." Tommy tells you, and his eyes are soft, a little broken when he speaks of his brother, the man who would be your employer. There's bitterness there that you recognize, even if you don't really understand.

"He's not...mean." He goes on, even though he hesitates over his elaboration. "He just prefers the quiet is all."

You nod, voice silent. It took months for you to learn how to speak again, and even now the simple act feels too heavy, too awkward.

It had been the better part of a year since you'd arrived at Jackson

It had been Tommy who had found you, out on patrol with the other riders, stumbling upon your form half-buried by snow, curled into the ground. Starving, confused, injured, scared, waiting to die so the earth would swallow you whole. Yet instead of letting you succumb to frost, Tommy had taken you back, allowed the doctors in Jackson to nurse you back to health.

In body, at least. Maybe not in soul.

Tommy leads the way down the steep slope ahead of you, leaning back in his saddle as his mare picks along the barest hint of a path down towards the ranch. You follow him, feeling your breath fog across your face, a warm puff before it dissipates into steam. All the while you steal glances away from the trail ahead of you and towards the livestock dotting the hillside, the grass turning an ashen green as the season inexorably change once more.

Tommy leads you not to the house atop the hill, but rather to a cabin at the bottom of the valley. It's braced against the edge of a tree line that trickles into the dip between the hills, and if you listen above the wind you think you hear a brook there. Yet your attention is drawn to the cabin itself, with its wood walls and stone chimney, from which woodsmoke pours forth. You can smell it, the scent obscured by the raw, frigid taste of oncoming frost. It lingers across your tongue even as Tommy dismounts, ascends the steps, fist raised to knock on the door.

It opens before he gets the chance.

The man that answers the door looks older, worn. Greys dot his temples, his short beard. There's lines across his face that speak less of age and more of grief, a time spent witnessing horrors you yourself have not yet seen. Yet his eyes glint with a keen awareness, a clarity bred by experience. Wary. Ready.

He stands occupying the broad space of the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grease caught across his knuckles. There's a furrow in his brow, as if he's annoyed by the interruption to whatever project he has occupied himself with. Yet when his eyes take in Tommy his face relaxes into something vaguely resembling a smile, and he manages to smear the majority of grease away from his palm before clasping it to his brother's.

"Tommy." Is all he says in greeting, but there's a warmth there, a familiarity that briefly has your heart threaten to crack, wishing selfishly someone would regard you that way too.

"Joel." Tommy replies, his tone light, pleased before he turns to reveal you, standing a ways away with the horses. "Brought you a visitor. Meet your new farmhand."

You shift a little where you stand, not making any motion to venture closer, instead offering a timid 'Hello' that seems to be swallowed by the wind.

Joel regards you silently, continuing to wipe his hands on his rag, eyes taking you in silently, cataloguing the uneasiness in your stance, your darting eyes, tense shoulders. yet he doesn't remark on it, doesn't offer so much as a greeting, instead seeming to mull your very presence over in his mind. Contemplating, considering.

"It's cold." Is all he says after moments that seem like hours. "Fire's warm."

With that he turns inside in a silent gesture for you to follow, offering little else in the strangest introduction you've yet to encounter. Absent of expectations or forced niceties, his words saying all that need to be said, and yet somehow containing multitudes.

It is, you come to learn, very much like him.

----

Joel puts you to work immediately, and you quickly learn just how desperately he needed another pair of hands on the ranch.

Your chores begins before dawn most days, the cold of the misty mornings clinging to your skin as you warm yourself by the stove as it crackles to life under Joel's care. You dress by the scant sunlight that seeps over the hilly horizon, step outside into the dewy air and watch your breath fog up and away into the dove grey sky.

The day starts with collecting eggs from the hen house, feeding the chickens, ensuring no creatures have made it past the wire fencing that protects them from predators lurking in the woods. Breakfast is simple fare, quick, not meant to be lingered upon before the work of the day begins in earnest.

There's few words spoken between you and Joel as the sun rises. You understand quickly he's not typically one for conversation unless prompted. He doesn't mince words, prefers to say what needs to be said and then to follow through with whatever he's spoken. It's a gruff, curt personality that might grind with a more extroverted, conversational person. For you, with your quiet, contemplative demeanor, it suits you well. You, like Joel, prefer to speak through actions rather than words, let your hands occupy your thoughts and chase away the memories that linger there.

So you do just that, involving yourself in the momentum that carries the weight away. You toss down hay from the hayloft, herd the sheep out of the barn in the morning, mend the fences, pull weeds from the garden. You sweep the kitchen as Joel cleans the dinner dishes, you chop firewood for the crackling hearth, gather kindling at the edge of the forest but never venture beyond the tree line as Joel tells you.

Joel gives you space for the first few weeks. Yet he isn't without attention. You find that he's quick to notice when you need something, even if you're hesitant to ask for it. It's as if he sees you in a way you aren't familiar with, discerning your hesitation and inward reflection like an extension of himself. His responses come less in the form of words and more in the form of offerings. An extra blanket for your bed. Another pair of socks. Fixing the shades in your bedroom so the light doesn't seep in, refilling the kerosene in your bedside lamp. It's simple but meaningful gestures, absent of words that somehow fills the unfamiliar space between you two.

"It's okay." They seem to whisper to you, as you lay wide-eyed, awake in your bed at night. "You can stay. I don't mind. You can ask. Take your time."

You never speak to Joel of the circumstances that have led you here, not even when you slowly begin to find your voice again, when words between you two become easier, less forced. Yet Joel somehow seems to know what's happened to you anyways, and you can't help but wonder if he was able to see it from the very start.

There's glimpses you see in him, his eyes becoming distant at times, as if staring into the past. It's as if he's lived your life before you, can see the scenes of his own regret play out in shadowy phantoms across his vision. You feel it in yourself, in the way memories cling to you as night like parasitic fungi, creeping with slow, sinister growth along your veins, old wounds that have yet to heal.

If Joel hears you whimper and cry in your sleep, he doesn't say. Yet in the mornings, after the nightmares have ended but still occupy your shadow, he's gentler. Softer. Extra milk in your coffee, his voice less gruff, allowing you extra time before the mornings begin so you can shed the last of your sorrows.

Slowly, with time, they're chased away by daylight.

You bury the remnants of them with motion, purpose. Joel made it clear from the start you weren't there to freeload.

"Two rules." He told you the first night you were alone, the washed dinner plates stacked to dry, the hearth crackling warmly and filling the silence.

"The first." He begins, and you can hear the age in his voice. Gritty, choked on memories like charcoal. "Is that you do what I say, when I say it, understand?"

His eyes meet yours, and you stare into them, losing yourself for a moment in his brown, keen-eyed stare. You wonder if there was a softness there once, find yourself trying to imagine what it must have looked like.

"This is to keep us safe." He explains, hands clasped together on the aged, wooden table, fingers grazing over worn knuckles. "Just because Jackson runs patrols doesn't mean it's entirely safe out here. I'm your employer, you're my responsibility now, so you listen to me when I tell you to do something, clear?"

You nod in silence, eyes shifting away from him to your mug of weak tea that's long since cooled.

"Clear." You reply, voice soft, a little distant.

Joel nods out of the corner of your eyes, as if to himself. Then his voice raises again.

"The second." He continues, voice maintaining that gruff, even tone. There's a hint of an accent there you try to place but come up empty-handed. Yet it softens, is joined by an indiscernible sigh, a shift of his shoulders that eases into the cracks of your soul. "Is that if you ever need something, all you need to do is ask."

You look at him then, eyes blinking, lips parting, trying to place the strange, sudden wash of feeling that murmurs between your ribs. Joel's stare remains unchanged, but the gentleness of his statement lingers, suspended between you both. An entreaty, an offering.

Slowly, something within you rouses, long laying dormant within the recesses of your grief. A gentle glimpse of color before it's gone again.

"Clear." You tell him, and this time your voice softens too, for the first time allowing yourself to open, unfold within his unwavering, focused gaze.

----

It's quiet, that first year. Joel is closed off, distant in a way that's not entirely unfamiliar to you. You can see the scars on him, even the ones he refuses the bare. It's hard not to see, with the way that his history is written across his eyes.

You don't ask why he can hardly hear from one ear, why he only ever sleeps on his right side. You don't ask about how he knows about how to pour the foundation for a new shed meant to store food for the winter. You don't ask about how he survived this long, why he wants the quiet solitude of the Wyoming steppes compared to the bustle of Jackson.

You don't ask the question everyone seems to ask people like the two of you.

What happened to you? What made you like this?

In turn, Joel doesn't ask you of your own past, of the mistakes and fatal flaws that led to that moment of solemn, fateful near death, your would-be grave a shimmering, white tomb of frost. Nor do you offer them. There's no changing the past now, and even though the screams of the damned still torment you in the witching hours of night, they're just that- ghosts.

They can't hurt you anymore.

Though you don't speak of your past, you do speak. Slowly at first, then with more ease. Joel seems surprised at first, even though the change is gradual. More than once you see him pause what he's doing, turn to you, blinking as he processes your remark about chores, the weather, what to eat for dinner. Utilitarian conversation that seems to mirror his own words.

He, like you, doesn't speak much, doesn't feel pressed to fill the silence. He's more than happy to simply coexist, his hands working alongside yours, his voice directing you with his steadying, unwavering presence. Like a lantern in the mist, the glow of him feels hazy, distant, and yet somehow still there, a signal as you wander in search of yourself.

You watch him, sometimes, over the edges of the worn paperbacks you read in the evening as the fire glows low. The orange flames catch across his face, reveal there the shadows of the things he doesn't say. He stares into the flames like they yield answers he doesn't have. There's a striking gravity there in his gaze, one that pulls you inwards, down into him, causes color to flutter in your heart. Sorrowful, unsummoned, and yet somehow alive.

You gather him in bits and pieces, like sifting for gold along a streambank. The sediment washes away, and what's left there is glimmering dust that catches and glints in the sunlight.

He has a daughter, that you already knew. Ellie is her name. You think you met her once back in Jackson on a misty grey morning where you paced the perimeter in solitude, basking in the absence of others. She'd muttered a brief greeting to you as she blew warmth into her hands, sidling past you towards the direction of the school. Bright eyed, brown haired, dimpled. She looks nothing like him.

Then again, you suppose you're all orphans of the apocalypse.

You meet her once more several weeks into your new residency, ferried there by Tommy. She peeks over his shoulder from where she sits behind him in the saddle, her face faltering when she sees you helping Joel mend the fence of the western pasture.

It's the first time you see Joel nervous, his hands fidgeting, seeking purchase on something that isn't there. You don't understand, eyes darting from him to the girl he's fostered, taught to survive in a cruel world. Yet then he clears his throat, introduces you to her with slow, halting words and you think you see it, the way he seems to look for Ellie's approval.

Ellie regards you warily at first, and like Joel her eyes seem to see more than she lets on, glinting at you as she takes several, heavy moments to judge you by your presence alone.

"Hi." She says at last, and her smile is soft, yet still somehow sincere. "I'm Ellie."

You almost miss Joel's sigh beside you, breathed into the coming winter wind.

His relief is well-placed. Ellie seems to take a shine to you. You happily listen to her ramble about her schooling in Jackson, about her distaste for her teachers, to her pleads for Joel to just homeschool her because "who needs school anyways?" You let her tell you terrible puns from a journal where she's scrawled the jokes with slanted, rushed handwriting. You follow her as she insists you accompany her to survey the ewes, climbing in the hayloft and attempting to hang from the rafters.

You don't notice the way Joel's eyes soften as you smile.

It's only on the third day of Ellie's visit, the morning of her departure, where she turns to you as Tommy and Joel talk next to the horses. Her arms wrap around your middle, head pressed to your chest, the embrace lasting for all of a moment before she pulls away again.

"Thank you." She tells you, eyes gazing up at you, clear and unwavering in a way you've come to recognize. "For taking care of him."

You freeze, eyes wide, lips parted, trying to process what she's just said. Yet you don't get the chance, because suddenly she's striding towards Tommy with a holler of "Let's get this show on the road!" and you're left alone, caught within the imbalance of her words.

No, you think. It was the other way around. You, you were the one who was taken care of, so you could be saved from yourself.

By him.

Things become different after that. It's as if Ellie's presence, her fondness of you has lifted an unknown weight from Joel's shoulders. Where before you could see cracks in him, now you can see the sunlight that dares to seep through, past the heartache and the grief he carries within.

Slowly, you too begin to change.

You're not sure what does it, whether it was Ellie, Joel, or the thaw of spring that relents the boundaries of your heart, unfolds them like snowdrops, born anew.

It's your voice that fills the silence now. Soft, soothing, still somehow endearingly shy yet undeniably kind. You turn your face to the wind, listen to the sound, try and discern the whispers it speaks to you. As the mountains turn green and lush, so too does your smile, a gentle thing that catches the sunlight and imbues it into your soul.

Joel smiles more too. You're not sure why, but you see it sometimes. When you appear from the hayloft with straw caught in your hair, when you hum a forgotten tune over the sink as you do dishes, when he sees you bolt after the lamb that escapes through the fencing, he smiles.

It always catches you a bit off guard, the way his mouth puckers, tugs the corner of his lips. Yet there's something in his stare that feels strangely like familiarity, of warmth, and you find yourself longing after it. You wish somehow you could trace that too into your soul, allow it to fill the cracks there like a balm, erase all the old wounds that linger with a bitter, sour aftertaste.

Joel remains at a distance from you, even though he seems more relaxed now. There's things he doesn't say, things he refuses to let you see. His words, though perhaps provided more often, remain enigmatic. Short, clipped, you come to realize he says what he means, but means far more than he can say.

Yet there's times when Joel is closer somehow, outstretching a hand to keep you from stumbling over a pit in the pasture, helping you down from the hayloft when the ladder breaks, crouching with you over a newborn lamb as it takes its first breath. There's something different in him in those moments. His eyes shine a little brighter, the draw of his face changes, his voice gets firm in a way that's less of a reprimand and more of concern. You can tell, the way he looks out for you without words.

Things get easier after that first year. Joel lets you gently shoo him from the kitchen when you've had enough of his poorly seasoned cooking to last a lifetime. He lets you wander further from the farm when you have the time, venturing into the woods to check the snares he's set. He comes with you when you hike to the top of the valley in search of wild spring onions, makes no complaint about his tender muscles. He tends to you when you come down with pneumonia, and in your listless, sickened state you think you hear him murmur the words "It's going to be okay."

Slowly, you unravel him. He smiles more often, albeit rarely. You get him to groan at terrible jokes and convince him to trade for art supplies and books for you. He listens to you when you suggest sheepdogs, and then forgives you when the mutt runs off into the woods within the first week to never return.

In the evenings, he sits closer, makes you a mug of tea without asking. He pushes the mug into your hands with little fanfare, and you learn it's through gestures that he says what he means the most.

"I want you here." The steam of the mug whispers to you silently. "Things are...easier with you here."

Yet there's unspoken words that remains between you despite that. You see it in the way he averts his eyes too quickly when you dry off from the bath, the way he watches you when you smile into the summer sunlight. You see it when you strip your jacket during the blazing heat of summer and he coughs suddenly, feigns breathlessness. You see it in his smile when you hold a tiny, baby chick in your hands, eyes glimmering with something akin to hope.

You see it when he warns you to get inside as a courier lets his eyes roam over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

It's a messenger from another outlying settlement, one you've never seen before. Young, brawny, his smile a little too wide as he greets you from atop his horse, dismounts before you can stammer a greeting and extends his hand to you.

You freeze. There's something about his eyes, the way they don't meet your own, the way they seem to fixate on other parts of you. It summons a vile reminder of things that once were, and you feel your breath catch between your ribs, too shallow, too cold-

"Get inside." Joel tells you, and his calloused hand tightens on your shoulder just a fraction, not enough for anyone but the both of you to notice. The deep, gruff rumble of his voice in your ear conveys all the meaning you mean to hear. Familiar, it whispers to you: Danger. Threat. Listen to me. I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe. Don't ignore me.

"Now." Joel growls, and he pulls away enough to give you a look that lasts a millisecond, too short to go noticed by the courier.

You nod at him, but the prickle of peril still skims across your flesh, nipping in a shallow bite. Tasting, teasing, a parting augury that leaves you shivering as you turn in the direction of the cabin.

The courier's eyes never leave you, not even as his conversation with Joel continues, his voice a lazy drawl compared to Joel's clipped, brusque replies. Your skin crawls, and you feel his stare rake over you with a slimy, lasting touch. Putrid, unwanted, vile. Your hands shake.

You cast a glance behind you once you reach the porch steps, and blink when you find Joel crowding closer to the younger man, fists curled at his side. There's a look that passes over the courier's face then, brow knotted and lips turning into a displeased sneer.

For a moment you turn, ready to go back and intervene in the building confrontation. Yet then you see Joel's shoulders rise as he speaks and the courier's face drops, goes ashen and slack at whatever it is Joel has just said to him. The threat, though you can't hear it, hangs heavy suspended between them. You can see it, the way the younger man looks at Joel with a brief, vulnerable expression of fear.

He swallows, shuffles for a moment before tipping his hat at you in a brief but abashed farewell. Then he's getting on his horse, trembling hands grabbing the reins and turning back towards the hill from whence he came.

"What did you say to him?" You ask Joel when he eventually paces over towards the porch, his shoulders still taut, frown creased across his face. He peels off his work gloves, stuffs them hastily in his back pocket as he brushes past you. You think he won't give you an answer, leave you wondering as to what words he spoke to the man who dared to look at you the way he did.

Joel pauses with his hand on the door handle, still facing away from you. He stays there for a moment, and you watch as the rage eases from his shoulders.

"I told him." He says, voice low, reeking of an imminent tempest, a fury he keeps simmered down low, deep inside himself, ready to boil at a moment's notice.

"I told him if he ever looked at you again I'd pop his goddamn kneecap off."

The door stays ajar behind him, and you're left alone, the autumn wind breathing cold across your nape.

Yet warmth blooms within you, a familiar yet distorted dissension to the icy threat of Joel's words. Rather than settle in your bones with a lurid freeze, Joel's warning instead summons an affection like the proximity of a hearth, ensconced within the promise of his protection.

"I've got you." The heat in your chest murmurs in conjunction with his voice. "I'll keep you safe. Don't think I won't."

You follow him, tracing his back with your gaze, and thinking somehow that you might follow him anywhere if he asked you.

---

The months drag on. Winter is harsh that year, the snow falling gracefully yet accumulating with sinister depth. The fire never stops, and it's on more than one night that you and Joel both abandon your bedrooms and sleep in the main room, closer to the woodstove so the freeze doesn't come for you in sleep. It's on those nights that you awake with an extra blanket draped over you, that Joel walks a little stiffly the next morning, grumbles about the cold irritating his joints.

The blanket smells like him.

It's on one of those nights, where the wind howls and sleet batters at the windows that you shiver under your covers, and the nightmares come creeping past your defenses. Like frost, they grow across the planes of your thoughts, extending, fissuring out and reminding you of that time, of an unearthly, blank, white grave. You sink into it, watch through snowflake covered lashes as the world shimmers with pristine, powdery glimmer, even as your heartbeat slows, your vision fades.

It's on one of those nights that there's hands that seize you in your sleep and you struggle against them with a whimper of "No, please, not again-"

"Hey."

It's Joel's voice that breaks through the ice, hauls you from the depths of exposure and into wakefulness once more.

"It's me." He says when you feebly push at him, mind still trying to discern its own direction, tears burning the corner of your eyes. "It's me. I've got you."

Your vision, wavering and watery, meets his gaze. Brown eyed, brow knotted, hands on either side of your face as he wills you to see, to hear him. You can only cling to him, eyes wide, unseeing, mind a cacophony of screams and sickening, bloody impacts until there's only a cavern of blank, snowy silence that rings between your ears.

"It's over." Joel tells you, voice deep, a grinding whisper tinted with an emotion you can't place. His eyes have a look you haven't seen before, and it takes you a moment to place it.

Fear.

"You're here." He murmurs, keeping your eyes facing forward, into his own. "Safe."

The dying embers of the woodstove flicker across your glassy eyes, and the vision fades, resumes into the now with Joel's thumb stroking across your cold, wet cheek. You shiver into his grip as the nightmares fades, a ghost of a past that's long since transpired, but leaves scars echoing endlessly within the prison of your mind.

Neither of you fall asleep again that night, words unspoken into the silence but presences merging, blending together in the darkness until daylight at last breaks over the horizon.

If Joel is different at that night, you can't tell. He keeps his short, gruff way about you, offers what he needs to, busies his hands with the work to be done. He doesn't remark upon the truth he saw in your eyes and words that night, simply absorbs that truth into himself and keeps moving in the way all survivors do. You find yourself wishing you could do the same, could burrow the hurt down deep so it sleeps, hibernates there until spring, whenever that may come.

Yet when a rake falls loudly in the barn, when a gunshot rings out in the woods from a neighboring hunter, when you hear a coyote scream at night, he's there. Wordlessly, his eyes slide over to your tensed, ashen expression and his voice becomes soft, a reassurance of security, of protection.

"It's just the wind." He tells you when a gale lashes at the windows, clatters against the panes. His hands don't cease as they prod the fire, but his eyes turn to you- looking, waiting, expectant. It's only when you nod that he returns his focus elsewhere, ensures the unease in your bones has settled.

It's in that way that you know. Regardless of whether Joel speaks it or not, somewhere along the way he's decided you're one of his own. Someone to reassure, to protect, to keep safe, even from the doubts of the past.

This is where you're meant to stay, you realize. Here, with him.

It's a realization that feels like relief, hopeful like the lambs that bounce through the meadows and the hatchlings that nest in the eaves of the porch. It feels like a rebirth, like a renewal of yourself as you at last realize the true extent of your feelings.

You think you love him.

You think, in another life, you could have been his.

You aren't so bold as to offer him advances, the emotions in your chest too fragile, too fleeting. Yet you do ease around him in a way you haven't before. Sitting next to him on the couch, daring to cover his hand with yours as he reaches for something in the cabinet, stepping closer to point out a hole he missed in the chicken wiring, your breath ghosting over his nape.

He doesn't miss these gestures, you know he doesn't. Joel is too aware to not see them, has too many years struggling to survive in a cruel world to not notice this gentle easiness of yours. Yet he never makes mention of it, never takes the chance to step closer, to narrow the strange distance between you. You don't understand it, can't comprehend why he insists on not venturing nearer to you. It remains one of the things you'll never know about him, why he looks at you with such tenderness and yet refuses to let you come closer.

"I'm too old for this." He groans as you both lay panting in the pasture after wrangling the flock's ram back into the field after his daring escape. "I need to retire."

You huff, something akin to a laugh, staring up at the summer cumulus clouds that roll white and puffy across and egg-shell blue sky.

"I'll stay here, even if you do." You tell him honestly, smiling, feeling for once like you can see into the future ahead of you. You turn to look at him, hair mussed, eyes bright but warm. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

He looks at you then, and the color in your heart wilts to sepia at the emotion that flickers across his face.

Guilt.

It stabs at you, like a blade in the dark, the razor-sharp edge glinting from a campfire. Your face falls, your stomach drops, and distantly, you think you can hear the sound of your heart cracking at the edges.

He doesn't want you.

There's a deep, lurking, sinister shadow that wonders if anyone ever will.

You try not to dwell on it, even as it slowly consumes you as the days drag on. Doubt festers in your veins, like spores sticking to the edges of your skin, your distant, unfocused eyes.

You lay awake at night, days later, deciding to step outside into the summer air to breath, release your demons into the night sky.

It's only then that you see the orange glow on the horizon, wake Joel with your rising, panic shouts.

Joel stumbles out of his room, eyes quickly clearing of drowsiness as he too looks towards the sight before you.

"Get dressed." He tells you, sleep still clogging his voice. "It's the Johnsons. Something's caught fire."

You follow his command wordlessly, and it's within ten minutes that the two of you are riding over the lip of the valley, speeding in direction of the next farm over.

You arrive too late.

The barn is a single flame against the night sky as you arrive, and the farm's two owners hold each other not far away. Contents of their house are strewn about them. The smell of smoke and blood thickens at the back of your throat.

"Raiders." The wife tells you, voice less of a wail and more of a shattered, trembling whisper. It's all that needs to be said.

You and Joel see to them, spend the day helping them gather the remainders of the farm. You don't arrive back at the cabin until sundown, skin chalky with ash, hands chaffed, form slumped with fatigue. Yet it's not even two steps into the door before Joel turns to you, eyes severe, steely, holding back a fury spawned by fear.

"I'm leaving." Is all he says. "In the morning. Gotta tell Tommy about what's happened."

You feel a low murmur of terror gurgle in your stomach at the idea of being left alone when danger lurks beyond the edges of the valley, at the idea of him going by himself.

"Let me come with you." You try, but he shakes his head.

"No." Is all he gives you. "I need you to stay here. Guard the farm. I'll lock everything up before I go."

Then his eyes soften, and he breathes a sigh as he looks at you, sees the anxiety rising in your gaze.

"I won't be long." He murmurs then, voice dipping. "Just keep that shotgun safe, like I showed you. I'll be back soon."

You know you can't argue with him, stubborn as he is. Besides, he's right. Someone needs to stay. Someone needs to make the journey. One of you has to go. You both know it's him.

So, you watch him, the next morning, watching from the porch as he ascends the edge of the valley, tracing his back until he's nothing more than a speck that vanishes over the rise.

True to his word, Joel arrives back the next afternoon, and on his tail is an entire company of riders. Spooked as you are, you at first think they're raiders, forcing him to lead them back to the farm. You stand on the porch with a shotgun, hands trembling until Joel at last dismounts, approaches you like he would a wild, scared animal.

"It's alright." He murmurs, and makes you lower the weapon as the rest of the group stands at a safe distance. His hands are cold, yet familiar as they touch you, ground you from your own rapid heartbeat.

"Security." He tells you simply as you eye the group warily. They regard you respectfully, eyes shifting from you to Joel and then back again, tall atop their horses, murmuring to each other in low voices.

There's around five of them, hard in the eyes, fit, strong. They're all younger than Joel by a number of years. Their weapons lay across their laps or on their saddles. You can tell at a single glance that they're soldiers by training. You know the look. You've seen the same expression in the eyes of FEDRA soldiers. Focused, disciplined, rife with a cold, calculating instinct.

Your eyes flick from them to Joel, and at last you relax, shoulders dropping all of an inch, letting him take the shotgun from you.

It's only then that they begin to dismount, talking amongst themselves and offering you linger, skeptical glances, as if encountering traces of a predator in the woods. Yet there's one of the group that hands his reins to the man beside him, approaches you both with slow, measured steps.

He's the once you noticed first, with his towering stature and set jaw. A short beard and thick brows frame his face, shoulders tight with coiled strength. There's an air to him that seems more acute, more potent than the rest of his men. Somehow, it warns of danger.

He removes his hat as he nears the two of you, holds it over his heart in a humble greeting.

"Ma'am." He offers with a nod.

"This is Joe Graves." Joel tells you, one hand still cupping your elbow. Steadying, grounding.

"You can call me 'Bear'." He adds and gives you a smile that pierces through the remnants of frenetic, panicked anxiety. "They boys and I all have callsigns.

"Hello." You offer at last politely, voice a little quiet, guarded. Bear only nods at you, seems to take your hesitancy in stride, his smile not faltering. It's warm, understanding, and it's as if he senses the unsteadiness in you, waits patiently for you to right yourself.

Your chest flutters.

"The boys and I are going to take good care of your farm." He tells you, voice measured but easy. "If you ever need anything from us, don't hesitate to ask."

You blink at him, feel his words siphon away the fear, the uncertainty that dwells between your ribs.

"Thank you...Bear." You tell him, voice muted but betraying your gratitude, your slow unwinding tension at his tone with you. Entreating, patient, void of expectations.

There's something that glimmers in his eyes then, and you catch it for only a moment. A spark, a hope, an interest you can't yet decipher. It feels like it coats you in a smattering of glimmer dust, leaving behind a warm, hazy glow that catches in your stare.

You know that look.

"Don't worry." It says. "Take your time. There's no rush. I won't come closer unless you want me to. I'll stay right here until you're ready."

Like the bloom of springtime, color once again unfurls in your heart.

#TLOU #Joel miller #the last of us #joe bear graves #Joel miller x reader #Joe bear graves x reader #reader insert #fic: woodsmoke #AHHHHHH ITS FINISHED

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

Hi' im here just to ask a request lol 👀 is it possible to do a chishiya x reader where they both liked each other but never said anything about it, even if its really obvious. But they still are always together even during most of the game since reader is good at club and spade games while chishiya is good at diamonds and hearts game, so depending on the game: one only supports while the other does most of the work. So this could be during a club or spades game where physical strenght is important, so Chishiya lets reader and other playes to do the "hard work". However, reader encounters their ex in the same game and chishiya starts to get jealous because "why they are so friendly if they are exes?" lol, however, reader decided to get paired up with their ex instead of chishiya and this made him mad (even though he suggested to reader that they should join someone else who is athletic too so they can game faster and finish early, however he didn't expect to find reader's ex in the game). At the end of the game, reader ask their ex that they should be part of the beach but chishiya ended up saying something like: "they arent good enough" or something similar. This makes reader mad and ask chishiya about what is his problem and he ended up confessing his feelings to reader. I dont know what to write next 😭 have a nice dayyy

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader word count: 1.4k genre: fluff (??)

a/n: tysm for requesting !! thank you for writing it like this like it's an actual outline for a story this was a really cute idea. i cannot write angst i would cry so instead of an actual fight chishiya is just mildly annoyed and reader kinda calls him out on it lmao i hope you like it !!

[if my explanation of the game doesn't make sense the fan wiki link to this game is here]

warnings: slightly ooc chishiya, not canon compliant, canon-typical violence, this doesn't make sense in the storyline bc it was the game kyuma and his band played but i couldn't think of any other games to make it work just go with it, slight mentions of people dying, ex bf's name is keita bc i didn't wanna write (ex's name) the whole time, cussing

i'm obsessed with this gif i'm sorry he looks like a cat and it's so cute snklns he's so gender

the amusement park is eerie as you enter. the gate creeks, worn down with use. vines crawl along their sides as if it’s been abandoned for years. the chime of a new player entering catches your attention. he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, shifting anxiously on his feet. you recognize him immediately- keita.

chishiya raises an eyebrow as you walk over to the man. his face lights up, a grateful sigh escaping him. “y/n,” you wrap him into a quick hug before pulling away. “do you know what’s going on?”

you shake your head, stepping back. “no. all i know is there are games we have to win to earn days on our visa.” keita nods, shoving the white phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“registration closed,” the announcement begins.

“come on,” you make your way back to chishiya’s side, keita following behind you.

“difficulty: three of spades. rules: players must reach the exit before the mascots catch them. game clear: players reach the exit without getting caught. game over: the mascots kill all players. there is no time limit.”

keita shifts uncomfortably next to you. “don’t worry,” you whisper. “we’ll be alright.” he gives you a shaky nod before the announcement continues.

“players have five minutes before the mascots will begin searching.” a screen lights up, illuminated by a timer on a white background. you glance at chishiya for a second. he gives you a curt nod, following a group of people around the left side of the park.

keita follows you as you slink around the right side, searching for any areas where the potential exit could be. the night is freezing as you hide behind the rides. “game start.” the announcement chimes. you duck underneath the metal beams of a roller coaster as a tagger wearing a bunny head walks out. they’re holding a crossbow as they walk, scanning around the park. keita’s shaky hand grabs your own as you watch them leave, in search of the players.

it isn’t long before a scream rings out, followed by the whistle of an arrow being shot. the screech is cut short, leaving an eerie silence behind. you flinch a little at the noise, desperate to find the exit. behind you, keita gasps. a woman has her hand pressed against his mouth, motioning for you to stay silent.

“have you seen anything?” she whispers. you shake your head. she removes her hand from keita’s mouth, backing away. “let’s stick together. i think i saw some other people by the ferris wheel.”

you let her lead the way back around to the other side of the park. players continue to be killed off. the whistle of the arrows through the air makes you shiver. keita’s hand stays wrapped around your wrist as you guide him through the park.

pressed against the brick wall of a staff room you can just barely make out chishiya’s silhouette. he motions for you to move closer, gesturing to a back gate over his shoulder. “i think the exit is over there.” keita lets out a shaky sigh, letting go of your wrist. chishiya reaches over to grab yours, pulling you a little closer to him. his warmth feels good against your skin.

“if that’s the exit why haven’t you gone over there?” keita whispers.

chishiya doesn’t answer him, still focused on the gate. he keeps a distance between you and keita. “we could be wrong,” you explain. “it’ll get us killed if we run over there and the gate doesn’t actually lead to an exit.”

“but we’ll die if we stay here!” you bite back an exasperated sigh.

“just trust me, okay?” keita nods, pressing himself further against the wall.

you’re not sure how long you stand there, waiting. your heartbeat pounds in your ears as a tagger wearing a bunny mascot passes. they look at the darkness where you’re standing, staring for a few seconds before moving on. chishiya squeezes your shaking hand. you muster up the strength to gently squeeze back, eager to get back to the beach.

the noise of the gate rattling makes you freeze. a man yells out as an arrow hits his shoulder before he hoists his body over the remainder of the gate. you can just barely hear the noise of his phone chiming. “game clear.”

“shit,” one of the taggers curses. you’re grateful when the sound of something hitting against metal echoes throughout the park, drawing their attention away from you. chishiya doesn’t waste any time once the tagger is out of sight, pulling you along with him towards the gate. you force yourself up and over the fence, reaching down to help pull him up after you. he jumps down to safety before you grab onto keita’s hand, helping him over before you tumble down into the safety of the grass below.

in your pocket, you can feel your phone vibrating. it lights up your face when you pull it out. “game clear. congratulations.” you lean back onto the ground, sighing. keita throws his arms around you, startling you a little.

“thank you,” he whispers. “thank you.” you pat his back before he pulls away.

chishiya holds out his hand to help you up. it’s a comforting feeling to have his hand in yours when you’ve finally reached safety. “we should get back.” you whisper. he nods, intertwining your fingers.

“where are you going?” keita asks.

“there’s a place we’re staying at- the beach. there are other people there. you’ll like it.” you can feel chishiya tensing a little next to you, but you brush it off as nerves from your near-death experience.

“let’s go.”

keita silently follows you as you make your way back to the beach. the walk is long and quiet. chishiya never lets go of your hand, keeping you close to his body. you’re grateful for the warmth, content to lean against him to calm your racing heartbeat.

hatter is more enthusiastic than usual when he greets you, eagerly taking the card before turning to keita. “we haven’t seen this one yet,” he says, flicking the edge of it. he leans down in front of him, staring in front of his eyes. “i’d like to see more of what you can do. y/n, show him a room, please.”

an awkward air remains as you lead keita through the hotel. he opens a random room before flinching back and pulling it closed. “these doors don’t lock?”

“no,” you chuckle. “just pick one. as long as there’s nothing inside you’re welcome to sleep wherever. i stay in room 320. come find me if you need anything.” keita nods, whispering another quick ‘thank you’ before entering the room.

chishiya is sitting on the bed when you enter your own room. you make your way over to sit next to him, letting out a small sigh. “do you know him?”

“who? keita?” chishiya remains silent. “i used to work with him.”

“he seems really comfortable touching you.”

you cock your head a little, shifting a little to face him. “we went out a couple times before i moved to tokyo.” chishiya simply hums, looking away from you. the silence feels heavy for a few seconds. “wait, are you… jealous?” chishiya doesn’t respond but you can just barely see a flush on his ears. you bite back a laugh, reaching over to grab his hand into yours. he doesn’t move away, letting you intertwine your fingers together. “chishiya, you don’t have any reason to be jealous.” you hesitantly reach out to rest your hand on his cheek, turning him to face you. he leans his forehead against yours. “i like you.”

you can see the blush spread to his cheeks a little at your confession. your lips quirk up into a small smile as he looks down at your lips before looking back up into your eyes. “i like you too.” there’s a beat of silence between you before he speaks again. “can i kiss you?” your smile grows as you slowly lean closer to gently press your lips against his. chishiya smiles into it a little, bringing a hand up to your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shifting to straddle his hips. his blush has deepened when you pull away. you lean down to press a peck against his forehead, stroking his jawline.

“nobody compares to you.” chishiya doesn’t answer, instead leaning up to press another kiss against your lips.

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serpentthecrow · 1 year

Text

Through the storm

(platonic)Aemond Targaryen x twin!reader (Aegon Targaryen x sister!wife! reader) (Targaryen oc)

Summary: you are sent to Storm's end with your twin Aemond, preventing catastrophic consequences of your brother's rage.

Warnings: mentioned violence, canon-level incest, spoilers of HotD season 1 finale, me liking Aegon, English is not my first language, hopefully, the high valyrian is right.

A/n: I love-mostly ooc- Aegon. There. I said it. Lucerys lives in this <3. Aegon is very ooc it this, not a perv and recently sober. Interactions are always welcome, enjoy!

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

"I am going to Storm's End" my brother's voice booms through the chamber. "For Lord Baratheon's support, I know. what of it?" I retort, grieving my interrupted conversation with Aegon. "Come along then! Mother didn't inform you?" By the confusion on his face he declines any jesting from his side. "Inform me of?" I raise an eyebrow as I turn to look at the Queen Regent. "I think it would be best if you went with your brother" she answers my question almost immediately. She says an entirely different sentence with her eyes though. 'go with him and make sure he doesn't fuck up' is what the look says. I have given her body language too much thought over the years not to notice it. "Very well then. Your dragon then?" I say to Aemond, despite my gaze lingering on my mother still. I don't wait for and answer as I get up from my chair. "Take care, please" pleads Aegon, still holding my hand. "I will love" I say back, kissing the crown of his head in silent promise.

Aemond is already out of the door and I follow his long strides for what feels like hours, until we reach his dragon-mount Vhagar. He gets on her back first and helps me up as well. We take flight and in no time we land in Storm's end. As we enter the throne room, I don't bother to engage in the talk that happens between my twin and the storm lord. Until the words "We have come with an offer" reached my ears. That was my cue to say my part. "What could you offer me, my prince" said lord Baratheon with a doubting look. "We're here to propose a betrothal" i answer before Aemond bothers to open his mouth. The lord looks me up and down and with a slightly clueless tone he says"Pardon me, your Grace, yet the last time I checked, you were already wed" I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes, not sure if because of the new title as Queen Consort, or his stupidity. "Not me, him!" I gesture to the man standing next to me. "We propose that one of your daughters marries prince Aemond" i clarify. The frown of the lord face dissapears as if he cracked a difficult riddle."Men" I sigh as Aemond struts towards the Baratheon girl. 'if she likes him and he stops being insecure, we're fine'.

My train of thoughts is interrupted as my nephew Lucerys, the son of Rheanyra, the self proclaimed Queen, enters. 'we're not fine, we're fucked' my inner monologue spirals as the boy hands off the message by his mother. Being clearly met with denial, the 'Velaryon' plans on taking his leave, however, my twin seems to finally snap.

"Wait, my lord Strong" he calls out. And that is where it goes down. I approach him like a wounded animal, while he declares how he wishes to make the child's eye a gift to our mother. "Give me your eye bastard!" He yells as he launches forward at Luke's denial, yet I am quick to catch up to him. I grab him by the shoulders and look deep into his eyes, his now uncovered sapphire reflecting the occasional lightning above us.

"Aemond stop this madness!" I raise my voice. "He took my eye!" he bites back just as powerfully. We are two dragons, fighting eachother other, fire in our gazes. "Is his eye worth a war? The destruction of house Targaryen? The death of everyone around you and yourself?!" I spit. The rage in his expression fades. "If you do this right now brother, you will be the doom of us all" my voice ceases in volume and the tone is new, soft. I grab the both sides of his face hurriedly, yet gently in a way."It is you, the younger brother who studies history and Philosophy" I begin, the look on my face affectionate as I quote his words from couple of days prior."it is you who rides the biggest dragon in the world. You are bigger than this Aemond, don't let yourself become a kinslayer." He is an educated man, he knows how bad the title is. "Ÿdra daor gaomagon visa ñuha idaña" don't do this my twin. Lucerys is but a shadow in the maze of clouds by the time we finish arguing. He is alive, however unbeknownst to us, The Rogue prince will take the threat to Luke's life to heart.

#hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the usurper #aegon targaryen ii #hotd spoilers

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dokoni-mo · 2 years

Text

Koi No Yokan || Darth Vader x GN! Reader (Chapter One)

summary: you meet your fiancé for the first time.

SFW

word count: 4661

warnings: arranged marriage, angst, arguing, fear, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of canon-typical violence, palpatine, allusions to non-healthy parent-child relationships, awkwardness

chapter's tune // youtube version

important a/n: hello hello all welcome to the beginning!!! as i said before, this fic will be based of the beauty and the beast story!! i did want to mention though, this is NOT a direct retelling of it. A fair amount of details have been changed, but the spirit of the og fairytale is still there. I just didn't feel comfortable writing about the reader being trapped against their will (and developing Stockholm syndrome). but, regardless, i still have high hopes for this fic, and i hope you do too!! enjoy!!)

~~~

The day you joined the Empire was the same day you met your fiancé. And if it weren't for pulling a few strings here and there; you would've never met him to begin with. Not until the day you were to be wed.

Although you had only been a part of the organization for a mere few hours now; one thing was made very clear to you right off the bat. They weren't privy to unnecessary things. Introducing you to your fiancé, they deemed, wasn't necessary. Sending you an escort to meet him wasn't necessary. Hell, apparently it wasn't necessary for him to even know your name.

You ended up having to be the one to take all that upon yourself.

However, what they did decide as necessary was far beyond your level of comprehension. Then again, you weren't stupid. You knew who your family was. You knew their influence, and you knew the valuable resources they could supply. They had control over dozens of systems; systems that would prove useful to the Empire. This, you could understand as necessary. That many more planets to control? And that much more supplies for the troops? Backing out on that opportunity would be madness at best. This you recognized. This you had learned to accept.

If only your parents could see it the same way.

It wasn't like joining the Empire was hard. Hell, if you were popular enough nowadays, it seemed like all you had to do was ask to get it and they'd let you. There wasn't any need for grandiosity. But, that's all your parents ever seemed to care about. Just how much of a show they could put on to gain people's adoration. It seemed as if no matter where they went, some kind of spectacle followed in their wake. As long as it brought attention and favor to them, they didn't care about whatever consequences there would be. There was no such thing as being low-key about anything. They never missed an opportunity to show off.

Perhaps that's why they agreed to that damned deal in the first place. For grandiosity. It's not like they ever cared much about your thoughts or opinions in the first place. Those weren't necessary. A grand gesture was.

And, apparently, signing away your hand in marriage was that grand gesture. It was necessary, even. And to do so without even informing you of the plan? The icing on the cake. And the fact that the Empire accepted that gesture as an offering? The cherry on top.

The rotten, stale, vile cherry.

When your parents eventually did sit down to tell you the news, you weren't shocked. You were angry. No matter how much you tried to be shocked, you just couldn't find it in you. You didn't want to accept it, but deep down, all along: you knew that this was coming. You knew that eventually, one day, they would pull something like this. The moment you reached your mid-twenties, you knew it was there; lurking, looming just around the corner, waiting to strike. As much as you didn't want to admit it to yourself, they knew it was there too. You knew from the very beginning that they were waiting for that opportunity. They nurtured it even; fed into it and watched it grow right alongside you. They taught you to be wise, cunning and diligent in everything you did. They taught you proper manners (which, in actuality, you only used when necessary), and everything about the art of a deal. They even showed you your way across a blaster and a good aim. You were their only child, the only trump card that your family could play.

And you had been sitting in the deck for far too long. The bill had come due. The curtain had been drawn. The final bow had been taken. The pot was just large enough now. It was time to put you in play.

You just wished they hadn't used you like this. Given you away to the damned Empire of all things like it was nothing. But, to them, it was necessary. It was the only way to get their favor; to tie your family's influence with theirs.

It made you livid.

"What?" You had hissed out to the both of them when they broke the news to you, a plethora of servants and maids hustling and bustling around your gilded room as they cleaned and sorted your things. Ordinarily, you would have been weirded out by people going through your stuff so intricately, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Your distaste for the rummaging would have to wait.

"Now dear," you mother retorted back at you, putting on her iconic oh so tiring there's-nothing-to-worry-about voice, "We know that this is rather sudden, but-"

"Um, YEAH it's sudden!" you exclaimed, feeling your face heat up as you waved your hands around in the air, trying to further emphasize your disdain, "Did you two even stop to think about how I would feel?! I mean, really! You expect me to be okay with all of this?!"

"Come on now, (Y/N)!" your father chimed in, leaning against the mantle of your fireplace like it was no big deal, "We're sure that they'll take good care of you! Besides, think of all the good this will bring our family! You'll be helping out a lot of people!"

Your eyebrows raised in shock and bewilderment as you looked at your father, "I can think of thousands of different ways to help people other than me getting married to... anyone."

Your last word perked up your interest, and your mother seemed to notice. She knew you were smart. She knew that, but still thought she could just so happen to sneak that little bit of information past you. At least for the time being. Averting your gaze back over to her, you watched as she fiddled with her hands, seemingly finding it impossible to look you in the eye now. Shit. She let you think about it for too long.

"You still haven't told me who I'm getting married to." you said to her, point blank and blunt.

An awkward silence hung in the room around you and your parents. Your father's usual nonchalant attitude vanished as he looked over at your mother, who returned his look with another full of concern. You furrowed your brow as your father quietly ordered the servants out of the room, them following their orders and quickly leaving without a word or a peep. Once they were all gone, your room was now painfully quiet. Too quiet. It made you feel cold, and you could feel your skull threatening you with an impending headache. Over the course of a silent agreement between your mom an dad, it was decided that your mother would be the one to break the news. After letting herself have a silent gulp, she turned back to you and looked you in the eye, straightening her posture as she tried to give you her best smile.

"Well, (Y/N)," she said, "The other day, me and your father spoke with the Emperor personally, and it seems we are all in agreement... We think that the best course of action for both parties if you were to wed, erm... If you were to wed Lord Vader."

Fucking pardon?

Silence. Dead, cold silence rang throughout your room, emanated from your person, dripped off your very being through a shell of disbelief. You stared ahead at your mother without a word, your mouth slightly hung open and your eyes wide. Had you heard her right? Did she really mean what she said?

No, no. Of course not. She had to be joking. Or perhaps you just heard her wrong. For them to willingly, willingly hand you over to that man? Had they not heard the stories? About just how ruthless he was? About the hundreds of men that he had slaughtered without so much as a second thought? The Dark Lord? The Supreme Commander of the Empire? Right hand of Emperor Palpatine himself? And they were just going to hand you over to him? On a silver platter with nothing but a pat on the shoulder and a kiss for good luck?

This had to be some sort of cruel, twisted joke.

You started to laugh, your breath airy as you placed one hand on your hip and the other on your forehead in utter disbelief at what you just heard. Despite the look on your mother's face, you continued to laugh as she walked over to you, holding out her hands to try and rest them upon your arms.

"Now, dear, we do know about Lord Vader's history, but we-"

"That just makes it even worse!" You exclaimed, your brow furrowing again as you backed yourself away from her hands so they couldn't reach you, "You know what that man has done, and you're willingly giving me away to him?! Are you out of your goddamned mi-"

"(Y/N), don't talk to your mother that way." Your father demanded, tapping back into the conversation from the sidelines after a long bout of silence.

"This is my life that the two of you are toying with!" You shot back, "You really expect me to be okay with being married to that man?! To just smile and say okay?! Please! If you were that desperate for some new attention, why couldn't you just-"

"That's enough (Y/N)." Your mother hissed, cutting you off. She looked down at you through her own furrowed brow, venom in her eyes as she saw you shut your mouth and hang your head down, looking up at her through your lashes. Your cheeks were still heated from your fury, your anger now left to bubble inside of you indefinitely as she tired of your rebellion.

You watched as she took a deep breath to compose herself.

"Now, I know this is all still a shock to you," Your mother spoke again after a brief pause, her tone more gentle but still sharp around the edges, "but we can assure you that nothing of harm will ever come to you. There will be guards accompanying you nearly constantly, and if anything were to happen, the right people will be notified at once. Your union with Lord Vader symbolizes the union between our clan and the Empire. You are a valuable asset to us both."

You breathed out an angry sigh through your nose as you rolled your eyes, feeling how your mother reached out to touch your elbows. You really couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit about what your marriage would do for your family nor the Empire. You had always imagined your wedding to be a happy occasion. Something grand and beautiful, with someone you truly loved and cared about. And someone that felt the same way about you. Not something where you were practically forced onto the alter; blaster pointed at your back in case you tried to run away. And most definitely not with someone like Darth Vader as the vengeful, rage-filled groom.

No. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. And you hated it. You fucking hated it. You felt so out of control as you stood there without a word, your shoulders stiff and your face feeling as if it were the surface of Mustafar.

Replaying your mothers words in your head, you suddenly felt a twinge. This made you shoot your gaze back up at her, watching as her lips parted at the sudden change of your demeanor. She knew that glint in your eye from anywhere. She knew what that meant.

The gears were turning in that head of yours.

She had said you were an asset to them both. A bargaining chip.

And, if that's what you were, then so be it. You'd play their game. You'd be the bargaining chip, and milk that shit for all its worth. You decided right then, right there. You would be the best damn bargaining chip the Galaxy had ever seen.

And if that meant putting yourself into play? To get a semblance of what you wanted?

So be it.

"When is the wedding planned to be?" You asked, looking your mom up and down. She looked over to your father briefly then back to you, slightly taken aback by your change in tone.

"Well, um," she said, "We haven't really decided on a date yet, dear. We just figured whenever the time was right, and when everyone could spare-"

"I want to meet him."

You watched through your lashes as your mother's lips parted again, and she looked over once more to your father for moral support.

"Love, I don't think we can, erm, do that. You see, Lord Vader is a busy man, and meeting him beforehand could-"

"So let me get this right." you blurted out, crossing your arms over your chest, "First, you take away my freedom of choice by picking out my fiancé for me, someone that doesn't even know my name most likely, and now you're taking away the basic human decency of allowing me to get to know my husband before I marry him?"

"(Y/N), please, we-"

"No, mother. I think it's a perfectly fair request for me to ask. You gave me something I didn't want, so now I'm asking for something I do want. And I want. To. Meet. Him. And I'm going to. Hell, I'll transport myself there if I have to. I'll pack a bag right now, even. Now if you won't do me the luxury of even that small of a request, I'll pack a bag to run away from here as far as humanly possible instead. If our union is so important as you say, then surely my fiancé could spare some of his time to meet me. Does this sound fair, mother? Or did you have something else in mind?"

~~~

You were grateful that you didn't have to be the one to carry that god-awfully heavy suitcase all the way down the runway of that hangar. You were lucky enough that a stormtrooper had been waiting for you at the end of the exit-ramp of you and your parent's shuttle, meaning you only had to carry it a small while. You felt bad giving the poor trooper something so heavy, but he didn't seem to mind. You figured he had much tougher jobs to do every day. Maybe carrying your luggage was like a day off for him. That made you a bit sad to think about.

The hangar of the Super Star Destroyer was nearly empty. You didn't have much experience with piloting or ships (nowhere near as much as you would like to have), but you could tell that it was unusual for it to be like that. Scanning your eyes over the drab, lifeless, grey expanse before you, all you could see were just a handful of troopers and guards, standing at attention to greet you and your family. Your mother was to your right and your father to your left, and you could tell that they were trying to look as dignified as possible. You didn't try and match their demeanor. You were the person-of-the-hour, so who cared what you acted like?

You sure as hell didn't.

Picking up your gaze from the troopers around you and your parents, you finally allowed yourself to look over at the opposite end of the hangar. The sight that greeted you made your lips part softly, your eyes slightly larger than before. Sure enough, there he was. Right at the other end. The other person-of-the-hour.

You recognized that silhouette anywhere. You had seen it countless times before. News-briefings, holovids, propaganda; you knew who that was. Even from all the way across the hangar, you could hear his breath; how the metronome of his respirator reverberated off the walls and demanded your attention. And that armor? That dressed him head to toe in that deep, rich black?

It was him alright.

Your husband-to-be.

You could feel a flash of goosebumps rise across your arms.

Walking over to him along with your parents, you swiftly realized that there was someone else in tow with your fiancé. A much shorter figure, who was also dressed head-to-toe in the same deep, rich black. As you got closer, you were able to get a better look under the cloak. Under it was a grizzled, ugly, slimy looking old man, with eyes as yellow as the daisies that grew back home. He had a dark, twisted sneer on his face; his old lips pulled up into a smile that made your skin crawl and an equally as twisted cane in his hand. His smile was one that made him look as if he knew something that no one else did, that no one else would ever even find out about.

And, hell, he probably did know something like that.

Thinking about it made you uncomfortable.

Drawing even closer to the two men and stopping within conversation-distance between them, you felt your gaze falter. You wanted to try and remain at least somewhat diligent and unbothered in front of them, but in realizing that you were standing in front of what was probably the two most powerful people in the galaxy: you found it hard to keep up your bravest face. It wasn't, per-say, because you were scared, no. Just intimidated. And, in all fairness, how couldn't you be? The Emperor was the Emperor. And your fiancé wasn't someone to bat an eye at either. He was tall. Almost absurdly tall, to the point where you knew you would nearly have to crane your neck to look him in the eyes of that mask. He was huge too. His arm looked like it was about three times the size of yours, along with his hands. You saw the way they gripped onto his belt. Sturdy. Strong. Unwavering.

You weren't scared. You weren't going to let yourself be scared. But god damn were you unnerved.

At least having your parents surrounding you gave you a little solace.

"Emperor Palpatine!" your father exclaimed, holding out his hands in a friendly gesture, but making to effort to shake the two sith's hands, "Lord Vader! So good to see you both in person!"

"We do apologize for arranging this on such sort notice." Your mother chided in, making you exaggerate your friendly smile so that you didn't frown in distaste, "But our (Y/N) made it a point to meet the Supreme Commander here and spend some time together before the ceremony."

As the Emperor lifted up his hand to wave away your parents' worries, you could have nearly sworn that you heard the creak in his bones. You had to hold back a little snicker.

"Nonsense." He said, that damn smirk lacing his voice as well, "The Empire is glad to entertain anything that you so wish."

As Palpatine turned his attention to you, you couldn't help but to steal a glance up at Lord Vader, who still hadn't said a word. You didn't blame him. This had to be just as awkward for him as well. But still, you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking; under all that metal and armor. Did he at least find it tolerable to look at you? You knew damn well that this wouldn't work out if he couldn't at least stomach your presence. But, finding any sort of emotion on that mask or in that notorious respirator was like trying to find artistry in a concrete wall. A very large, intimidating, vengeful wall, but a wall nonetheless. You only were able to take your eyes off him when you heard your name being spoken.

"You must be (Y/N)." The Emperor spoke, making you take note of the way his smirk seemed to grow as he looked at you.

You nodded your head with the best forced-smile you could muster, having gotten pretty good at it after all the years.

"Yes, your excellency." You said with a small, tiny bow, "It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"Come now, your highness," he croaked out, seemingly amused by your response, "there's no need to give me any of your attention. I know why it is you're here."

Lifting up his hand again, Palpatine gestured to the tall, looming figure behind him, making your eyes dart up to meet the lenses of Lord Vader's mask.

"This, of course, is Lord Vader." He said, "He is my apprentice, and my right hand here in the Empire."

Flashing up another awkward smile up at Lord Vader, you gave him another tiny, small bow as a greeting, your hands fidgeting by your sides as you stood up straight again.

"It's good to finally meet you, Lord Vader." You said to the sith. Begrudgingly, all you got in return from him was a small nod. Not even multiple nods. Just one. You weren't sure if you were expecting more, but you felt somewhat disheartened, your gaze falling back onto the floor. Did he really not like you? Honestly, you still couldn't tell. And even if you could, you knew you would find it hard to blame him. You were certain that a man such as him wouldn't be too keen on getting married to someone like you either. His focus lied in commanding the armies of the Empire, and hunting down any Jedi that may still be in hiding across the Galaxy. You were sure that your marriage to him, in his eyes, would just be a waste of time.

And you didn't necessarily disagree with him.

But, come on. At least show a little enthusiasm. Even if it's fake.

"Since you came all this way, your highness (Y/N), I shall leave you with Lord Vader from here. Your parents and I will discuss other matters separately." The Emperor explained, earning a nod of understanding from you. As Palpatine turned to leave, he placed his hand on the side of Lord Vader's arm, overtop of the long, flowing cape that covered up the muscle from view.

"Show (Y/N) around, my apprentice." Palpatine ordered, "And don't dawdle for long, do you understand?"

"Yes, my master." The dark lord rumbled out from behind the mask, making your ears perk up at the sound. Admittedly, his voice was much deeper than you expected it to be. In your opinion, it almost sounded fake, but yet oddly fit him surprisingly well. You were also surprised that he had even decided to say anything at all. After standing behind the Emperor for so long in silence, you had begun to wonder if he ever said anything at all. You guessed, however, that he only really spoke when necessary.

Again, you found it hard to blame him. It was the same way with you for a long, long time. You understood what it was like.

As you said your goodbyes to your parents, you hoped Lord Vader would change that sentiment once he was left alone with you.

~~~

The walk with your fiancé was atrocious. You had expected it to be awkward, and it was. At least, to you it was. You still had no idea what he thought of the matter. But you didn't expect to to be this bad.

For one, he didn't offer you his hand. Not even an arm or an elbow. He just started walking, and you had to do a light jog to catch up with him. His strides were much longer than yours, and you found that if you weren't walking as quick as possible, you would be left behind. At the very least, he allowed you to walk beside him, rather than having to trail on behind him like some lost puppy. But regardless, he still had yet to say much to you. Every now and again, he would rumble out a brief description of what kind of place the two of you were passing. But not anything you could start up a conversation with. Maybe he was doing that on purpose. It was hard to tell.

What wasn't hard to tell, however, was just how many people stared at you as you passed. At first you figured they were only staring at Lord Vader, observing him out of either curiosity or fear (or perhaps both). You understood their sentiments. But, as you returned a few of those gazes, you quickly realized that it was in fact you they were looking at. You could see it in the way their eyes softened as they looked at your face; how their mouths would form into a thin line of sympathy. Did they know? About your situation? Did word really travel that fast about this whole ordeal?

You didn't know. And you weren't much in a place to go up and question them.

Pressing on past all the silent well-wishes, you and Lord Vader were quickly greeted by a long, vast hallway. Along the entire expanse, there was not one window in sight. Just a whole lot of dull, white lights coupled with dull, grey floor. It was very unlike what you were used to at home. You were used to open-aired porticos, with lots of natural light and greenery. You were used to everything being full of life and hustle and bustle. The Empire was very much unlike home. Yet, in a way, it was your home now.

Fantastic.

After a good, long while of marching down the same corridor, you picked up your gaze from off your feet and placed it up upon your fiancé's mask. He was stared straight ahead, determined and sturdy as his respirator echoed off the walls.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking under there. Just what exactly he thought of this whole ordeal, about you. You knew about all that he had done. You knew about all the stories there was about him. And frankly, hearing them made you sick. The whole damned Empire made you sick. You never wanted anything to do with it, yet here you were. Thrown practically right in the middle of it all. It made you mad, sure. It would've made anyone with even half of a brain mad. And you suspected your husband-to-be shared at least a somewhat similar sentiment on the whole matter. He was a warrior. A hunter. Getting hitched to some nobility from some nowhere planet probably was the last thing on his bucket list, if it was even on there at all.

Oddly enough, that made you sympathize with him. You felt bad for him. Because you saw yourself in him. He probably had a very similar response to the whole situation as you did. But, come to think of it, it was probably worse for him. His master was the Emperor. And that just opened up a whole new can of worms that you just simply had no idea how anyone could deal with that.

Looking up at him, into those deep, black pools that were the lenses of his mask, you felt a twinge of something deep, deep down in the core of your being.

Sorry.

You were sorry for him. About this whole thing. About just giving him more shit to deal with. You knew it wasn't you that caused any of this, but you still felt a tad bit responsible for it. Regardless of who he was or what he had done, you still knew one thing; Lord Vader probably had a bunch of bullshit to deal with already. And throwing a surprise wedding on top of that? A wedding to someone he didn't even know existed 24 hours ago? Yeah. You wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Not even him.

Wetting your bottom lip with your tongue, you decided to say something about it.

"I'm sorry." you said to him in contrary to the painful, agonizing silence that loomed over the two of you. You had quickly wondered if he had even heard you at first, but your worries were subsided as you watched his mask point briefly down at you, then back ahead.

You were smart. You knew what that meant.

Elaborate.

You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed before continuing, trying your best to keep up his pace with tired legs as you explained yourself.

"Look," you said, "I get it. You don't know me. I don't know you. And if you're anything like me, if we were under different circumstances, you probably wouldn't even want to know me to begin with. Trust me, I felt the same way about you."

From the corner of your eye, you saw him look down at you, only for good this time. Much to your surprise, he had even halted to a stop at hearing your words. You weren't expecting to stop so quickly, so you had to stand up a bit straighter to keep yourself from tripping over your own feet. Standing in front of him, even as straight as you possibly could, you were still so short compared to him. He seemed to be easily twice your size, maybe even three times on a good day. And, you had to admit, that coupled with how that mask looked down at you, boring into your being, it was a bit intimidating.

Well, maybe more than a bit.

Yet, you didn't allow yourself to falter. You were the bargaining chip, and you knew from the stories that Lord Vader wouldn't be so stupid as to forget that. Keeping your face as determined yet open-to-conversation as possible, you crossed your arms over your chest as the dark lord looked at you, stranded alone with him in the middle of that hallway.

"Felt?" was all he said as he looked at you, his armored head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

"Yeah, felt." you responded, "You haven't said anything in forever, and it gave me some time to think."

You saw the dark lord's back stiffen at your bold words, and from that one tiny movement alone, you could tell he wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner. You found it hard to care. You knew you had special privileges, and you intended to use them.

"I apologize for not being as entertaining as you had wished, your highness." he said, and you had to fight back rolling your eyes.

"Don't be sorry. I kinda figured hospitality wasn't your strong suit."

You couldn't help but show the small smile of satisfaction that appeared on your lips as you watched his head tilt to the side yet again.

"It seems you are quite perceptive, your highness." he rumbled out. You could tell he was getting sick of your antics already. Time to cut to the chase before you blew your chance.

Letting out another sigh, you let your smile fall off your lips as you spoke.

"Look," you said, gazing up right into the lenses of his mask, "What I'm trying to say is: even though I think both of us would've rather just have never known each other, that's just not the case anymore. We're in it, no matter what. Call it fate or whatever, but we are."

You shifted your weight onto just one of your legs before continuing, "And I think I'm rather certain I'm speaking for the both of us when I say: fate has dealt us some pretty shitty cards. Ones we never even asked for. But, that doesn't mean the shitty ones have to be shitty. Sometimes there's potential to turn them around and make them good. And I want this to be one of those. In fact, I believe it is one of those ones. While I think this whole thing is totally and utterly unfair, we can still try to turn it around. We don't have to be a burden on one another. There's potential here for something good."

Shifting your weight back so it was equally on both of your legs, you unfurled one of your arms out and extended it. You opened up your hand and held it out at waist height, offering it to the sith lord in front of you for a shake.

"So, how about it?" you said, a small smile returning to your lips, "This is a shitty hand, but hey, we can at least try to make the most of it, yeah? I'm willing to look past a lot of things and turn the other cheek if you are too. Who knows, maybe we can even be... friends."

Lord Vader stared at your face for a good, long while, his gaze flickering down to your outstretched hand ever so often. He had to admit, as much as he hated to do so, but you did make a fair point. You were right when you had said fate had dealt him a shitty hand. Hell, he was probably dealt the shittiest hand in the history of the Galaxy. He knew this. He had accepted this long ago. He knew he had made a lot of shitty plays too. He knew that more than anyone alive today. But, he had to say. He saw that in you too. As soon as he first saw you up-close, he knew you had that same look in your eye. That look of knowing that you had been dealt a shitty hand. He had expected you to be the type to become complacent with your own shitty hand, just as he had. In time, he expected you be like him; to just accept all that bad that came to you, just as he had.

But the way you looked at him, with that hand reached out floating in the air, he was...

Pleased.

He didn't even want to meet you at first. When his master told him that you were coming, he dreaded your arrival. Hell, he even dreaded just being near you. The thought of every marrying someone, someone else, he hated it. It made the darkness stir inside him more-so than usual. He wanted nothing to do with you.

But yet, looking down at you there in the cold, harsh lighting of that hallway, Lord Vader found himself something he most certainly did not expect.

He was pleasantly surprised.

You weren't nearly as bad as he predicted you to be.

He didn't loathe the sound of your voice. He didn't curse the feeling of your warmth next to him as you walked side-by-side. He didn't hate the sight of your face. He didn't want to kill you because of your smile. You were smart too. He appreciated that. He enjoyed knowing that it wasn't so much of a chore conversing with you as it was with the unfortunate lot he had to deal with on the daily.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant something to him. That meant that this card the Universe had dealt him was worth the investment; was worth putting in to play. Rather than just letting it collect dust in the deck. And even if this wasn't the card he wanted:

Perhaps it was the one he needed.

Once your arm was starting to get tired from holding it up for so long, you found yourself pleasantly surprised as well. You couldn't help but feel how your smile grew as you watched the sith lord lift up his own arm, extending his gloved hand out to you. Carefully, he placed his hand inside yours, the two of you sharing a firm hard shake of silent and determined agreement.

"You make a compelling argument, your highness." Lord Vader said to you as the two of you shook hands, making you breathe out a tiny laugh.

"Please, just call me (Y/N)." you responded, crossing your arms again as the handshake drew to a halt "We're gonna be married, there's no need for all the formality."

"As you wish, (Y/N)."

"Does this mean I can just call you Vader?"

"... I will allow it."

You couldn't help but giggle at his choice of words, a smile still on your face as he started up his walk again, this time significantly slower so that you would have a better time keeping up. Deep down, you were relieved that Vader had accepted your offer. You had been somewhat nervous. You were worried that he would just be an old grump about the whole thing, swatting away your hand like it was nothing. Like the olive branch you had extended was just another waste of time. Like it wasn't necessary. You were prepared for the outcome, but relieved that it didn't happen.

And, in the way the lights hummed around the pair of you, and in the way the faint tingle of the feeling of his hand in yours lingered on your hands, and in the revelation that his hand did, in fact, fit rather nicely inside of your own,

You knew that maybe, just maybe, there was more to come.

~~~

tags: @the-official-memester , @astra-1780 , @natsukii-id , @instantnoooodles , @tuskens-mando , @guinea-pig16 , @weixuldo , @amidalis , @vanyali07 , @sourskywalker , @khapikat222

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!

#darth vader x reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #sw fanfic #stars wars

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artzychic27 · 1 year

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I love Ever After High AU!

What would the events be like? Like The Masked Ball, the Spring event, Adventures in Wonderland, The Dragon Games and Winter's Day?

Welcome to Ever After High

It’s a new year at Ever After High, a magical school where the next generation of fairytale characters go to hone their powers, learn more about their tales, and train to follow in their parents footsteps

One of the new students is Nathaniel Hearts, son of the Queen of Hearts and a former resident Wonderland… Also, not exactly the most popular person due to his mom’s love for beheading people and also the fact she’s the reason no one can enter or exit Wonderland

Already, students avoid him like the plague and only see him as his mother. The only ones who see past that are his best friend and fellow Wonderland native, Alix Wonder, Nino Grant, and Adrien Briar

Alix doesn’t care about their mom’s rivalries and actually likes Nathaniel… It’s Marinette that had a problem

Fa-Li Marinette is adamant on everyone following their destinies, because if even one fairy strays, every story will end. (She just only cares about her own) and keeps pushing Nathaniel to be a deranged, power hungry lunatic like his mom

It only gets worse when they prepare for Legacy Day, where students take the pledge to follow their parents footsteps. Nathaniel questions Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles what will happen if he doesn’t sign the Storybook of Legends

And of course, they gaslight him using Marinette’s excuse. If he doesn’t sign, then it’s the end for everyone

Nino calls bullshit and pulls Nathaniel along to look for answers from Madame Mendeleiv Yagga, one of the smart teachers at DuPont

She explains that nothing will happen to anyone’s stories, they’re just take a different turn. It’ll break tradition, but it wont end up a catastrophe

So, the night of Legacy Day, Nathaniel makes his choice… He does, but then Marinette gaslights him again. Apparently, she followed him and Nino and asks if he’s really going to trust some “old witch”

“If you want your so-called friends happily ever after a to cease to exist. Fine. At least you’ve shown how much like your mother you are.”

So now, when it’s the Wonderland Kids turn to sign the book, and Nathaniel steps up… He hesitates. He sees his future in the mirror: Him beheading hundreds of his subjects with a mad look in his eyes, sending his card guards to hunt down Alix and the other Wonderland kids, and painting white roses red using his card guards blood.

Nathaniel: … I am Nathaniel Hearts, son of the Queen of Hearts… AND I PLEDGE TO FOLLOW MY OWN DESTINY! *Snaps the quill in half… Nothing happens*

Royals: *Horrified gasps*

Rebels: *Cheering*

Nathaniel: N-nothing happened… *Points to Damocles and Mme. Bustier* YOU LIED TO ME!

When the crowd gets too hostile, Adrien wishes for Nino to freeze everyone except for the two of them*

Adrien: I can’t believe that… That we can just do that.

Nino: Yeah… I’m not sure I want to be stuck in that lamp.

The next day, things are tense between the newly dubbed Royals and Rebels. Marinette tries to rally more to her side, that destinies are meant to be followed, but students kind of want to hear Nathaniel’s reasoning

The one who seems most intrigued by Nathaniel accidental revolution, is Marc Grimhilde, son of the Evil Queen and someone who’s reluctant to sign the Storybook of Legends and end up trapped in the mirror realm like his mother

Rumors start to spread that Nathaniel only wants to spread madness like his mother and prevent anyone from having their happily ever after while Marinette wants to send the Rebels to a reform school built to straighten them out

Mme. Bustier is doing nothing to help, only making things worse by blaming the rebels for causing tensions and doing nothing to discipline the royals. (Same bitch as canon)

As a protest, a Rebel student runs against Marinette for student body President. That student? Aurore Amzy, daughter of Yzma

In the end, they end up as reluctant co-presidents and constantly try to undermine each other

As another protest, the Rebel students host True Hearts Day, a long forgotten school tradition banned by Mr. Damocles since it got students to stray from their destinies

So, they throw it in secret. And to their surprise, some Royal students want to help because while they’re may disagree with the Rebels, they aren’t too fond of Mme. Bustier and M. Damoclesand want to spite them

The party’s a success, and some new couples end up forming

Nathaniel turns down most of his admirers since they’re more in love with his status of leaders of the Rebels. He ends up asking Marc for a dance after the two accidentally bump into each other right under a spotlight

The following week, Nathaniel gets called into the principal’s office where Marinette, Alix, Max, and Denise are waiting as well. Apparently, Mme. Bustier was “concerned” about the Rebels’ Revolution and believed Nathaniel needed positive reinforcement

Marinette: Nathaniel cut the buds off my roses.

Nathaniel: That was on accident! And I apologized!

Marinette: Exactly! You’re supposed to be evil and not apologize!

Alix: Well, I think Nath’s fine just the way he is. Plus, I’d rather not get beheaded, so-

Damocles: Moving on!

Max: I don’t know what role I play here, but my mother strayed from the path her father had her on, so if anything, aren’t I meant to be a Rebel? Because if I follow my mother’s path by not sailing, I did what she did by disobeying her father, but/

Damocles: Enough! We haven’t heard from Denise Facilier, yet.

Denise: The shadows all say… Nathaniel’s awesome and should write his own destiny.

Marinette: They did not!

Denise: Well, how do you know?!

It is now the week of Thronecoming, and the students are looking to pick their King and Queen and get ready for the parade and bookball game

Nino, who was in between the royals and rebels debate finally picks a side when he misses his date with Alya because he got stuck in his lamp, making him realize the horrible truth about his destiny

The Thronecoming Fair goes off well- Austin A and Q rented Captain Hook’s ship and got a ton of pixie dust to let people go on rides in the air, Myléne’s hair styling station was earning a lot of money for charity, Denise did card readings, and Cosette was able to sell some of their faux fur jackets. It went great up until float building

Marinette is still pushing Nathaniel to stop being “selfish” and accept his fate, but in the end, Nathaniel’s the one to call her out on her bullshit along with Bustier and Damocles since they’re just standing right there

Nathaniel: You know, I may be “The Prince of Madness,” but I’m sane enough to see that you’re the one being selfish. I’m out.

Ismael: Heh. That’s my boy.

Cosette: But he’s not even your son.

Ismael: Don’t remind me!

As a school trip, Madame Mendeleiv takes the students to the Hall of Legends, a time capsule building where their parents left relics for them to find: Myléne gets a magic hairbrush, Rose gets a sword, Cosette gets a Diamond-studded choker necklace, Denise gets a vintage deck of tarot cards, Nino gets lamp polish, Lila gets truth revealing glasses, Marinette gets a sword, Zoé and Chloé get new heels, Austin A gets a magic compass, Austin B gets a crossbow, etc.

Nathaniel only finds a coin, planted there by M. Damocles in place of the ruby studded crown his mom left him

Nathaniel then heads to the wishing well in the woods, tosses in the coin, and wishes to know what happens if he doesn’t sign the Storybook of Legends

Mme. Bustier casts an illusion spell that shows a horrific future, scaring Nathaniel into signing

So they have a Legacy Day do-over, and none of the Rebels are too happy about it. The students suspect something’s up, and their suspicions are confirmed when Denise’s tarot cards reveal the Storybook of Legends is a fake

When Damocles denies the accusations, Marc asks Lila to use her truth-telling glasses. And when she lies and says she doesn’t have them, Aurore uses a truth-telling potion on her and Lila is forced to hand them over

They also reveal the Storybook of Legends is a fake, and of course, Damocles blames Nathaniel… Only to go into his office and confront the Queen of Hearts, via magic mirror

Nathaniel still wants to sign, but to do that, he needs to find the real Storybook of Legends. Marc, Adrien, Nino, Alix, Cosette, Zoé, and Denise also tag along and through a series of weird riddles, they enter a secret room in the library and come across Jean-Pierre Monlataing, a teacher who went missing long ago and speaks only riddlish, which Wonderland natives understand

M. Monlataing: A chapter for all, to live and survive, with a page of the the answer, and come out alive

Nathaniel: Ah, of course.

Alix: Obviously.

Cosette: Uh… Translation?

They conclude the Storybook of Legends must be in the Hall of Legends. But they end up getting pulled into different stories, have to find some pages, blah blah blah. Long-story short, the pages they find form a spell that breaks the Riddlish spell over M. Monlataing

And he reveals that Mme. Bustier put the Riddlish spell on him because he believed in the Rebels’ side of things

Nathaniel: … You know, cutting heads off doesn’t sound bad.

The night of the Thronecoming dance, the students decide to have one night of fun and not care about the Royals and Rebels bullshit

And performing tonight is the one and only Luka Piper, son of the Pied Piper and half brother of Juleka

Then Nino notices something when a slideshow of old photos reveals the Queen of Hearts lived in his dorm before, and hid something in a secret compartment under his carpet. Borrowing Lila’s glasses and a bobby pin from Juleka, he unlocks the secret compartment and finds the Real Storybook of legends… And then throws it away in the Well of Wonder, making it end up in Wonderland

Spring Unsprung

It’s the day of the Spring Faire, a day to commemorate the beginning of the spring season

But meanwhile in Wonderland…

Xavier (My SB&IB version) Blanc, Fei Cheshire, and Félix Hatter have run into some trouble with the Queen of Hearts when they try to look for a way out of Wonderland

But, the threat of decapitation doesn’t keep them from looking around until they come across the Storybook of Legends Nino threw down the well

Wanting to return it back to Ever After, they go through the well… And end up getting lost until they come across Fei’s dad, the Cheshire Cat, who gives them some complicated instructions while swapping out the book for another

What the Cheshire Cat doesn’t know is that someone was watching him in the act

Also, while Cosette was walking through the forest to get some Wonderland Well water for the Spring Faire baking competition, they fell through the well because the water was being a little shit

And at the same time, Félix, Xavier, and Rei arrived in Ever After, followed by the Cheshire Cat

The Wonderland Kids arrive and are given a warm welcome by Nathaniel and Alix

Nathaniel: GUYS! Why’d you abandon me?! Your Prince was all alone here!

Alix: You son of a bitch.

When the Bitchy Duo (Damocles and Bustier) harass them for somehow getting to Ever After when they sealed every entry and exit closed, Félix pulls his trump card by showing the “Storybook of Legends”

… Only for Marinette to reveal it’s only a book of riddles and calls them frauds

Nathaniel, Alix, Adrien, Marc, Zoé, and Nino are the only ones to believe them

Still holding the book, Marinette reads a page and accidentally casts a opposite-personality spell, making her much less judgmental, but she passes it along to other students and most become not as polite

Meanwhile in Wonderland, Cosette ends up in the Mad Hatter’s kitchen where they meet the White Knight. Long story short, they realize a Wonderland dessert is how they can warn the others that the Cheshire Cat stole the Storybook of Legends and replaced it with the cursed riddle book

Also, while Marinette is less judgmental, she wants to destroy the fairytale world instead of preserving it. So, she concocts a plan to plug up the Well of Wonder

The Austins, noticing something is seriously wrong with everyone, follow Austin A’s compass to the source of it all, Marinette, who’s about to plug up the Well of Wonder with help from Max and Sabrina who have also been affected by the spell. But they’re too late, and all of the wondrous elements start to fade away

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, Alix, Adrien, Marc, Zoé, Nino, Xavier, Fei, and Félix try to figure out a way to get the book back from Wonderland as the Well of Wonder is always hard to find

… That’s when Denise comes in

Denise: COSETTE BAKED A PIE MESSAGE! A SHADOW TOLD ME!

They head to a bakery and look through every single pie… Until they come across the only one that’s glowing

Félix: Let’s see what we have here. *Slices the pie*

Cosette, through the pie: Okay, so do I just start talking? Alright, so hey guys! I’m in Wonderland. Crazy, I know. Anyway, Ever After is in danger, the Cheshire Cat swapped out the Storybook of Legends for a riddle book, and it’s cursed!… Now do I just… That’s it? Okay.

They look for the book using Lila, who had the book last. And because she’s honest now, she tells them where she put it

But when they find it, it’s too late. The world and everyone in it is drained except for the Wonderland Kids

Fei: I’m putting and end to this! Dad! Show yourself!

*His grin appears*

Fei: All of you.

The Cheshire Cat, after some prompting, offers to tell them how to reverse the curse… If they beat him at a game. They just need to reach him on the other side of the puzzle floor

Alix: I’ll make this quick and easy. *Walks around the puzzle and reaches the Cheshire Cat* Boom. How’s that for a ditz?

To reverse the curse, they just need to say the last riddle on the book backwards. And it works… But now there’s just the matter of the plug in the Well of Wonder. An easy fix with some of Austin Q’s pixie dust

Also, Cosette makes it back to Ever After when the well gets unplugged and the White Knight is actually-

Way to Wonderland

It’s breakfast time at Ever After High, and Alya and Aurore make the following announcement-

Alya: As editors of our school paper, The Griffin, Aurore and I are pleased to announce that we will be doing a special feature!

Aurore: The theme is, A Time of Wonder! It will feature stories about Wonderland and the students native to the land!

Marinette: Of course! And who can forget how Nathaniel mom, the Queen of Hearts, is the reason they’re all stuck here in the first place?

Alya: Girl. Can we go one minute?

Marinette: Well, it is all because Nath’s mom decided to go total wacko screwball infinity one day, make it even madder than usual, run her own son out of the castle, and behead more people for no valid reason-

Marc: *Shoves a poison apple in her mouth, making Marinette pass out* That’s enough out of you.

Damocles and Bustier try to silence this by stating how Wonderland is dangerous which is why they sealed it up, but no one’s going to listen to them

Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s upset, not because of what Marinette said, but because it’s his mom’s birthday and he wants to be there with her despite… Everything.

Marc offers some help in the spells department to open up an entrance to Wonderland when Denise barges in on their conversation

Marc: If you want, maybe there’s a spell my mom made to-

Denise: Shadows are speaking again! They say Nath’s mom is in danger, and it will be off with her head!

Félix: … Is she always like this?

Marc: They, and yes. And they’re always right about these sort of things.

So now, the Wonderland Kids, Marc, Denise, and Nino are trying to figure out a way to Wonderland. To the Library!

While researching, the Wonderland Kids reminisce a bit and assure Nathaniel they don’t blame his mother. Rather, they believe another element is at play that made her do what she did… They just don’t know what

Suddenly, a book falls off the shelf and opens to a specific page. Weird, right? Wonder what that was about.

Marc picks up the book and skims until he finds a shocking illustration of…

Marc: MOM?!

Nino: Say what?

Fèlix: Did someone say “plot twist?”

Alix: But, this book is about Wonderland. What the hell is the Evil Queen doing in it?

Denise: … You don’t think?

Fei: What? No… No, that’s… No.

Marc: … She would.

Xavier: Oh, she would.

So now they suspect the Evil Queen had a part to play in Wonderland being sealed off. Looking at the illustration of the Evil Queen, they see a spell scroll in her hand- some sort of curse reversion spell to undo…

Marc: ‘The Spell of Utter Madness’?… Yep, she did it.

Alix: Well, I guess that’s why she’s in the mirror real.

So, Marc decides to make things right by undoing his mom’s madness curse over the Queen of Hearts and hopefully unseal Wonderland

But, while casting the spell, there’s a fluke, and the students disappear. All except Xavier and Alix

Nathaniel, Marc, Nino, Denise, Félix, and Fei all end up down a rabbit hole that leads straight to Wonderland. And upon arrival, they get new Wonderland-looking outfits

Also, much to their disappointment, Marinette is there with them because she was in the same room as them. So now, they’re stuck with her

Although, Marc didn’t remove the curse. But that doesn’t deter the group from going to save the Queen… Well, they would if they hadn’t been stopped by Jess Redd, the Red Knight who takes them to Wonderland High. And they can’t leave until they graduate after one day

*The kids all get dragged to the school*

Denise: No! I don’t even go here!

Félix: But I graduated early! I don’t need to go anymore!

Nathaniel: My mom is the Queen, and I can skip whenever I feel like it!

The White Rabbit, Xavier’s uncle because his dad sucks, leads the group to class while also informing them off a plot against the Queen of Hearts and once again confirming that it was the Evil Queen who cursed her

When the Evil Queen was out spreading chaos among the Fairytale realms, she started with Wonderland and placed the Madness Curse on the Queen to make her even more deranged. She turned Wonderland into a prison in just a short week, preventing anyone from getting in or getting out, and sought to expand her kingdom. Nathaniel, Alix, and her dad were lucky enough to escape years prior to the first chapter. Damocles and Bustier of course, blamed the Queen of Hearts until they discovered the Evil Queen was at fault, sealed her in the mirror realm and sealed off any gateways leading to Wonderland so the Queen of Hearts can’t attack. Still, they never corrected anyone on who was at fault

Marinette: I… Didn’t know that.

Nino: Neither did we. But you didn’t hear us bashing the Queen.

With that information, they decide to get through their classes so they can leave and save the Queen. Unfortunately, Wonderland classes make no sense, but they figure it out… Eventually

Lunch Time

While in the cafeteria, the Wonderland Kids come across an old face, Iris Jest, daughter of the court jester, and Student Body President who has the audacity to make a threat towards Nathaniel

After such a lovely meeting, they head to their classes, which have become more difficult. Fortunately, the White Knight Cosette met last chapter is there to help, but each class just keeps getting harder and harder until-

Nathaniel: THAT’S IT! I’m using the royalty card and getting our classes changed! Where’s the vice principal?!

Marc: He’s hot when he’s all fired up.

Nino: What?

Marc: What?

But, to their surprise, the vice principal is Iris! She challenges Nathaniel’s own authority, uses Wonderland logic to make time go backwards so they can never leave, and makes a threat toward the Queen of Hearts while revealing she’s all for overthrowing her

Félix: Why… It’s as if you almost want the plan to overthrow Nathaniel’s mother to succeed!

Iris: … OF COURSE, I DO!

But, Iris gives Nathaniel a choice. He just has to sign a contract, relinquishing his rights as heir to the Queen of Heart’s throne to her. If he signs, then they’re all free while he stays in school forever

Marinette: Nath! Don’t do this!

Nathaniel: Anyone else, please?

Félix: You always said you never wanted to be like your mom! But look at what we’ve learned! She was cursed! Remember when she chased you around the gardens and showed you how to play croquet with your first flamingo? That’s the Queen of Hearts Fei, Alix, Xavier and I remember and the version of her we know you want to be!

Nathaniel: … You’re right. *Snaps the quill in half… Again*

Enraged, Iris sends them to detention… But not before an unfair trial where they’re charged as guilty

Also, Alix and Xavier are still looking for the others, and the Evil Queen arms Iris with an evil book of spells right before she heads out to overthrow the queen and sign her name in the Storybook of Legends when Fei accidentally reveals its whereabouts

One minute in detention, and the group is already going insane. Marc and Nino can’t use their magic, and it’s almost time for the Queen’s birthday party

Soon, Félix gets an idea

Fèlix: My dad always got detention! He used to tell me dozens of his get-in stories! Denise, have your shadow friends send a message to the other side!

Denise: Okay, which other side?

Back in Ever After, the shadows communicate with Alix and Xavier by opening some books to certain pages and telling them that they’re in detention and they need to ask Alim for instructions on how to get out since he helped with some of the Mad Hatter’s best escapes. And his best on is-

Denise: Tiddlywinks? Like the game?

Félix: Like the game, he said.

This grabs the teacher in charge of detention’s attention… But, since the acting vice principal while Iris is out is Jess, then they will be dueling with swords in exchange for their freedom

Fortunately, the White Knight is fighting for them and gives them a chance to head to the palace while Fei goes to find her dad and get the Storybook of Legends

Iris arrives at the palace first, and uses an illusion spell to get past the guards while posing as Nathaniel

Guard: All hail the Queen of Hearts! Or else! And make sure to hand deliver to her your presents… Or else!

Aya: Yes! It is MY birthday party! And keep in mind, any present smaller than the palm of my hand shall result in your execution. That is all.

Iris is about to get executed until she poses as Nathaniel and her “son’s” presence actually manages to calm her down, much to the kingdom’s relief

Fei discovers from her dad that he gifted the Storybook of Legends to the Queen of Hearts, and Fei is thrilled at first… Until she finds the massive present room

Once Iris discovers from the Queen where the book is, she leaves, but not before starting an opposite game for when Nathaniel finds his mother

Anyway, the group arrives, and Fei goes to deliver the bad news about the Storybook of Legends, but Nathaniel’s too distracted by seeing his mother for the first time in years

Nathaniel: Mom! *Hugs her* I’m so happy to see you! I… In spite of everything, I missed you so much and I love you!

Aya: … You love me?! How dare you?!

Nino: … Dude. Cold.

Nathaniel: Wh-what?

Aya: You heard me! And by the way, you look horrid.

Nathaniel: *Starts crying*

Marc: So, can I commit regicide now?

Nathaniel: Mom, you’re not making any sense! I’ve been missing you for years, and I thought you still loved me! After I found out about your curse-

Aya: “Curse?” I’m under a curse? Whoops! Did I just lost the game?

Nathaniel: What are you- Wait. Is this an opposite game?

Aya; *Giggles* Nope.

Nathaniel: *Hugs her* Then, let the game start.

Aya: Oh, thank God! Of course I love you, Nathaniel.

Marinette: … These are some fucked up games.

They find Iris in the present room, and she’s about to sign the Storybook of Legends in Nathaniel’s place, but Marc uses his powers to teleport to her just in time and take the book

He tries to fend off against her attacks, but since Iris is armed with his mom’s spellbook, he doesn’t stand a chance… Unless…

Marc signs his name and inherits his mother’s dark powers, which corrupt him as he goes on a power trip until Iris yields or dies… Whichever comes first

The latter option would’ve been first if not for Marinette coming between them and saying he’s not his mother while apologizing for acting the way she did

This snaps Marc out of if, right as the Queen of Hearts arrives looking enraged even with Nathaniel trying to calm her down

Now with the Evil Queen’s powers, he lifts the curse off of the Queen of Hearts, making her sane… ish, and he breaks Mme. Bustier’s seal on Wonderland, merging the two worlds again

Also, The Queen decides to have a little chat with Mme. Bustier and Damocles, but as Nathaniel is the future King, she figures this will be good practice.

Nathaniel: You lied to the public for years and deemed my mother a warmongering lunatic when you knew all along that the Evil Queen was behind it all? And to make matters worse, rather than help her, you separated my friend and I from our home?!

Damocles: W-well, you see-

Mme. Bustier: We just-

Nathaniel: OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!

Now Mme. Mendeleiv and M. Monlataing are Principal and Vice Principal

Also, for anyone wondering, the white knight was actually Aeon Charming the entire time. How did she end up in Wonderland?… We’ll go over that later

All I’ll write for now

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marc x nathaniel #mlb oc #ever after high #eah au #ask me stuff #answered ask

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hairstevington · 11 months

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flowers and ink (part 8)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Chrissy stops by the shop to have a necessary conversation. Speaking of necessary conversations, Eddie pays a visit to Steve afterwards.

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, link to Ao3

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: TattooArtist/Florist modern day AU, this one gets kind of emotional actually??? Deep conversations about their pasts, pretty on-par with canon stuff, and then a very sweet ending :)

A/N: Okay, you guys - we're headed to the finish line! After this I most likely will just post one more chapter as an epilogue of sorts. Thank you to all who have followed along!! I never expected this one to get this much love!!

Steve and Eddie saw each other for three days in a row over their first three dates. After that, neither of them wanted to break their streak.

Yeah. They were both totally obsessed with each other.

They didn’t go on dates every night, but they’d at least visit each other during breaks on days when they both worked. And they texted constantly. Eddie even joined in on Robin and Steve’s movie night, which apparently was a big deal. They’d only ever let one other person crash their movie night, a surrogate little brother figure of Steve’s who was friends with Will.

Steve still never pressed Eddie for more information about his past, which was great, but the weird thing was that Eddie actually wanted to tell Steve about his life.

That was a first.

It probably didn’t help that it was all on his mind from seeing Gareth and Chrissy over the weekend. Just a lot of reminders of what happened and what he left behind. He tried to remind himself of how he was happier now, and the new life he’d built for himself, but he still felt guilty.

So, when Chrissy showed up to Ink About It, Eddie wasn’t the least bit surprised, and he knew exactly what she wanted to know.

“Hey,” she said with a warm smile. “Do you have some time to squeeze me in?”

“Always,” Eddie replied, gesturing for her to join him in the office. “So, are we getting a tattoo today or just addressing the elephant in the room? Or, maybe you want a tattoo of a giant elephant in a room? Let me know and I’m at your service. I owe it to you, after all.”

He was rambling. He knew he was. But he was nervous and embarrassed and a ton of other things. The truth was, he’d loved Chrissy in high school. Like real, deep, meaningful love, and then he cut her off. He cut everyone off, but that was no excuse.

“I’m not mad at you, you know,” Chrissy said. The sentence made Eddie stop dead in his tracks and spin around to face her. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“That’s, uh, good,” Eddie stuttered. He was eased by the fact that Chrissy seemed a bit nervous, too.

“Well,” she said on an exhale. “You heard my side of things at the show. Your turn.”

Thank God the tattoo shop was dead. He didn’t have an appointment for another hour, and it was during their slowest time of day so he doubted anyone would walk in.

“Thanks for saying all that, by the way,” Eddie replied. “You could have made me sound like a real dick.”

The way that Chrissy had painted their whole relationship in a positive light was the only reason he’d been able to hold it together during and after the show. If she’d talked shit about him on that stage, he probably would have skipped town a second time due to humiliation.

But she didn’t do that.

“Yeah, well, lucky for you, I didn’t write the show when I was eighteen,” she teased. “Although there are some very angsty poems in a journal somewhere that I should probably burn.” Eddie laughed, then nodded in understanding.

“I have some….really angsty songs that have never seen the light of day,” he noted.

“Oh, I bet. The ones I did hear were already pretty scary,” she joked, laughing lightly.

Eddie used to play all of his original songs for her. Well, almost all of them. There was one he wrote about how he was pretty sure he liked men that he never got the chance to show her. In any case, the way she was still joking and being her familiar sweet self (as opposed to her badass, confident stage persona) made Eddie feel a bit more relaxed. He took a deep breath, noticing the way she was waiting for him to speak.

Here goes nothing.

“I didn’t graduate, Chris,” he began. Her eyes went wide.

“What?! No, you - you did. We graduated together. You just didn’t go because you were sick.”

“I didn’t go because I got busted for selling and then was expelled,” Eddie admitted. “I was barely passing my classes anyway. Most of the teachers took pity on me just so I didn’t have to retake the year. But then uh - well, yeah. I got kicked out.”

“But I didn’t -” Chrissy was completely stunned. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he replied.

He hadn’t. The only person that knew was his uncle. Wayne was the only family member that gave a shit about Eddie, so naturally he was Eddie’s phone call the day of the arrest. Wayne bailed him out and, next thing Eddie knew, he was in Hawkins.

“Anyway,” Eddie continued. “I was so embarrassed I just…left and didn’t look back. At the time I thought you were better off without me, honestly. You said it yourself - before you met me, you hadn’t even smoked before.”

“Before I met you I was -” Chrissy scoffed and shook her head, baffled. “I start the show talking about the day I met you for a reason. It’s because my life began that day, Eddie. You weren’t some bad influence that corrupted me, you were an escape from - from my shitty friends and my even shittier mom. And you were what sparked me to figure out who I was, and that’s special to me. You were my best friend. And you could have told me.”

Her final sentence stung, but it was a good kind of sting. His secret was finally on the table, and she was still there. She was still supporting him.

“I know that now,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to reach out for ages, but it felt like the more time that went by-”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “I get it. It’s okay, I just - I missed you.”

Chrissy closed the gap between them and hugged him tightly, an embrace that Eddie quickly accepted.

“I missed you too,” he responded. They held each other for a few extended moments, then broke away, a tension off their shoulders. “Do you live here now?”

“For the time being,” she answered. “Argyle and I move around a lot. We just kind of point somewhere on a map and go.”

“Shit, and you ended up here?” Eddie asked, surprised. “That’s, like, a crazy coincidence.”

“Yeah, well Argyle always tells me that we end up exactly where we’re meant to go,” Chrissy responded, smiling.

“I like that guy,” Eddie said, nodding.

“Of course you do,” she teased. “You’re both weird stoners with awesome hair.” Eddie laughed, flattered at the compliment. He took a moment to look at her - the way she looked just as she did, but so different at the same time. More laugh lines in her face, for one. Her hair was shinier and fuller. There was more color to her skin. Eddie wondered if that was what happiness looked like.

“Just so we’re clear,” Eddie said, needing to say one last thing before they moved on. “What you said about me on stage the other day -” He didn’t need to specify. Chrissy spoke about their relationship fondly and candidly. “It was the same for me.”

“I know,” she replied, smiling more brightly now. “Okay! So, we finally got that out of the way.”

“Finally,” Eddie echoed. “Now what?”

“Now,” she started, “we talk about your boyfriend and his ridiculously hot friend.”

Eddie chuckled, then nodded.

“Okay, well first of all, he’s not my boyfriend.” Chrissy eyed him, knowingly, which he chose to ignore.

“Whatever,” Chrissy dismissed. “Figures we’re both queer, by the way. I love that for us.”

“They say we travel in packs,” Eddie joked. Chrissy nodded in agreement. “Anyway, Robin’s awesome. Have you gone out with her yet?”

“Tonight!” Chrissy responded. “And I’m very excited. That’s another reason I came here. I wanted to clear the air in case you come up in conversation, because it seems like anything I tell her will just go straight to your boyfriend -”

“Not my boyfriend,” Eddie reminded her, smirking.

“Why not? I saw the way you look at each other,” Chrissy noted.

“Because it’s only been a few weeks,” Eddie pointed out.

“And?” she prodded.

“It’s too soon,” Eddie insisted, pretending to scratch at a spot on his cheek to hide the blush creeping up his face. “Moving on.”

“Moving on,” Chrissy replied with a smug grin.

She stuck around the tattoo shop to catch up until his next appointment, and it felt a lot like old times. Eddie thought for the longest time he’d burned every bridge from his hometown, but recently he’d learned that he’d left the water underneath unscathed.

Who needed a bridge when Chrissy and Gareth could swim?

Steve worked at a literal flower shop, and yet he was just starting to truly understand the expression, ‘stop and smell the roses.’

He was in total bliss. Things with Eddie were great. It had been a long time since Steve had felt such an easy connection with someone. They clicked on pretty much every level. And, best of all, Eddie got along with Robin too. If she approved of him, that basically meant - well, it was a big deal.

So, he felt lighter at work now. He was better at handling customers. He started to memorize the things Robin used to constantly have to remind him of. Being around plants all day almost made him feel high - like the air was better or something. Actually, Steve wasn’t the most academic guy, but he was pretty sure being around plants and flowers all day did give him a better oxygen supply. He kept telling himself to ask Robin or Google it, but then he’d get distracted thinking about Eddie.

The joys of the honeymoon phase.

It was the night that Robin was going to go out with Chrissy for the first time. She was, naturally, a ball of nerves, but in a good way. Steve had high hopes for their date.

“You are way too happy lately,” Robin told him. “It’s spooky.”

“Yeah, well -” Steve began, stumbling on a response. “Get used to it.”

He sent her off, and then checked his phone.

Eddie: Can I stop by?

Okay, normally that kind of text would send Steve into blind panic, but he tried to remain optimistic. This could be a nice surprise visit, not a devastating one. He sat in the silent apartment for approximately 30 seconds before the overthinking began.

The last time he’d seen Eddie, everything was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Although, Steve had never been the most observant. He wracked his brain going over their last interactions to see if he’d maybe missed something.

Oh, shit. Never mind, he was for sure panicking.

Steve: Of course! Robin left so it’s just us 🙂 ETA?

Eddie: On my way now, see you soon!

Well, at least he was using punctuation. Although, that didn’t mean anything necessarily. Steve had been dumped a few times, and -

No, come on. He was not about to get dumped. They weren’t even officially together, so an in-person visit to end things wouldn’t make sense.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

The door opened ten minutes later. Thank god.

“Hey,” Eddie greeted as he walked in. He seemed a little nervous, but not upset. “How was your day?”

If he was going to break up with Steve, he wouldn’t have bothered with the pleasantries, right?

“It was good, how was yours?” Steve asked, doing his best impression of a Chill Person™.

“Chrissy stopped by the shop today,” Eddie began. “And we just - I hadn’t talked to her in so long, and it was really nice.”

Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

“That does sound nice,” he replied.

“Listen, Steve, I -” Eddie shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. “There’s a lot about my life I don’t talk about. Like, from before I moved here. I hadn’t told anybody about it until today, actually.”

“Dude, were you in the mob or something?” Steve asked, completely lost. “Just tell me what’s going on before I burst.”

“Wait, why are you nervous?” Eddie wondered.

“Uhh, because you sent me an ominous text message asking if you could ‘stop by’ and you’re taking for-goddamn-ever in telling me why,” Steve joked. Eddie literally facepalmed.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. You’re right, my bad.” Steve chuckled in relief. “No, it’s not - that’s not why I came over, trust me.”

“Okay, cool.” Steve waited for Eddie to continue. “So?”

“I just - I feel like I have to tell you something.”

“Okay, now you’re doing the ominous thing again,” Steve said, rolling his eyes playfully. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I was arrested when I was eighteen for selling drugs to minors,” Eddie blurted out. His eyes went wide, as if he hadn’t expected the words to actually come out. “I mean, to high school students. And it was just weed, by the way.” Steve crossed his arms, waiting for more.

“Okay,” he said, relatively unfazed.

“You’re not - wait, why aren’t you judging me?”

“Because I bought weed all the time in high school. That’s not much different.”

“I mean, it’s a little different,” Eddie argued. “But okay. Well I - I never graduated high school, either. I don’t have a diploma.”

“Okay,” Steve repeated. “Do you need one?”

“I - well, no, but - what are you - how do - but - I -”

“Okay, woah,” Steve said, chuckling. He walked to Eddie and put a hand on each side of him. “You know I was a mess when I was a teenager too, right? I already told you about some of the shit I got into. I also started a lot of fights - and I lost all of them, by the way. I’m pretty sure if I get one more concussion I’ll die. And I have a diploma, but I didn’t get into any colleges -”

“You mean you don’t care about anything I just told you?” Eddie asked, confused. “You don’t think of me any differently?”

“What? No, why would I?” Steve answered casually. “I used to be a total asshole, and I should have gotten a lot worse than I did. I was just lucky and rich, that’s all.”

“You were rich?” Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, past tense,” he clarified. “I was such an asshole that my parents disowned me the second I turned eighteen.”

“Shit,” Eddie said, exhaling. Steve’s hands slid down Eddie’s arms to his hands, fingers interlocking.

“I don’t care about that stuff,” Steve assured him. “You don’t still sell drugs, right?”

“No,” Eddie replied, shaking his head.

“Just like I’m not an asshole anymore,” Steve continued. “Right?”

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, I think,” Eddie responded quickly. Once again, he seemed alarmed at what he was saying.

“That sounds…impossible,” Steve teased, leaning in to kiss Eddie gently on the cheek. “But I’ll take it.”

Eddie could literally feel his heart warming in his chest. He’d spent years holding all of this inside, and carrying so much shame within him. But he’d gotten forgiveness from Chrissy, and Steve was entirely unbothered.

Steve - the Flower Boy who took Eddie completely by surprise in the best way. He’d never imagined falling so hard for a guy like him, yet here he was. It was like what Argyle apparently said - we all end up where we’re meant to go.

Eddie fully intended on befriending Argyle next, by the way.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie whispered, their foreheads pressed together.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna be my boyfriend?”

He didn’t plan on asking this particular night. As he’d told Chrissy, they hadn’t been dating very long, and it was still early. But Eddie was on a roll, and the moment felt right.

Steve smiled, confirming that he felt it, too.

“Yeah, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

(final part)

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

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @justaloadofgarbage-blog @alliemunsonsstuff @undreamingnscatworld @hobbitnarwhal @calivanus @wreckmyplans-thatsmyman @antheia @goodolefashionedloverboi @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @gamerdano @menamesniall @eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @stringischeese @eds-trashmouth @mnl-enuh @redfreckledwolf @itsanarrum @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @aryakanojiaa @wrenisflying @comicmadlover @lilacrobin @itch-my-b0nez @anonymousbandgirl @disastardly @dangdirtydemons @daisyellsong @val-from-lawrence @starryeyedpoet17 @taikawaiteatea @clumsiluni @hollysimone @swimmingbirdrunningrock @witchofhawkins @steddiegarbage @suddenlyinlove @ricekristytreaty @eddielives1986 @bunnyweasley23 @thefailcollection @ppunkpuppyy @bestwifehaver @httpsphynx @irregular-child @skjachukson @deadfromtheneckdown

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #flowers and ink #writing

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