#to form an identity that was not even close to his own just.
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Beast Ancients AU FAQ
I’ve seen a lot of asks in my inbox that are identical to each other, so I decided to put em all in one post and then some. This’ll be updated the more I develop the AU and the more info we get.
As a disclaimer, I am very new to CRK (as of December 2023) and I haven’t gotten to all the game or story modes yet (notably odyssey), so things are definitely bound to change + be elaborated on more! Anyway without further ado:
General
What are the Beast Ancients’ themes?
Vanilla is Penance, Lily is Sovereignty, Dragonberry is Pride, Cacao is Solitude, and Cheese is Conquest. I tried to keep them within the realm of their original meanings
Essentially my philosophy is: Penance is the acknowledgment (truth) that sins such as deceit exist in the world and must be cleansed. Sovereignty is an extreme form of freedom where one can have all the agency they wish, but can be just as silent about their presence/power as well. Pride is a byproduct of passion or sloth, boiling down to the adamancy of the subject. Solitude is a choice made with both resolution and apathy in various degrees, and lastly Conquest promises an abundant future at the cost of untold destruction.
If the ancients are bad, are the beasts good?
No, the old Beasts are still a threat. With a total of ten beasts to worry about, the situation on Earthbread is very dire. However, there is still hope left, and hope can go a long way.
Is there a new set of ancient heroes with soul jams?
No, and there likely won’t be. The Neo Beasts and first Beasts still have their respective soul jam halves, and both want each other’s.
Where’s Gingerbrave and his party?
Likely the Crème Republic, which becomes a refuge for many cookies after the rise of the neo beasts. They’re at the front of the resistance movement, working with Clotted Cream Cookie to plan how the beasts will be taken down.
What do the Neo Beasts think of their past selves?
Generally they see themselves as improved or improving. The only one who doesn’t feel that way is Frigid Cacao, who doesn’t reflect on himself that often.
Did they all corrupt at the same time?
Still working on that part. The timeline for beast ancients is a WIP, but for now, it’s likely that while they didn’t corrupt at once, they corrupted pretty close to one another. Cheese was likely first, followed by Lily. Vanilla was among the last to fall and evidently had it the worst.
Do the Neo Beasts still have kingdoms? How is life like there?
Answered here
What are the cookies of darkness doing?
As of writing (5/31/24) we don’t have a lot of info on the cookies of darkness in beast yeast, but at the very least I can say Dark Enchantress cookie may or may not know about Midnight Lily’s plan to destroy her.
How would legendaries react?
I admittedly don’t know everything about the legendaries to say yet, but they’re all alarmed to some degree. I can flesh them out the more I learn about them
Individual Neo Beast questions under cut!
Saint Vanilla Cookie
How do his powers work?
Answered here
Does he know he’s killing cookies?
Nope, he doesn’t see it as that and it would pain him to. He sees purification as a form of transition or ascension in itself, to put it simply; he might even envy those he turns to stardust, knowing his own tainted soul will be so much harder to liberate.
Why is he constantly crying?
He’s just like that. He’s just that big of an empath.
Has his relationship with Lily changed?
Saint Vanilla still cares very much about Lily, and may even be more open about his feelings towards her; but he admits the only reason why she’s still alive is because she convinced him to leave her for last. Lily very well knows that Vanilla, in his delusion, wants to purify her more than anyone else. Vanilla often pities her choice to stew in her tainted soul, but he respects her decision… at least the alternative is that they’ll someday be the only two cookies on Earthbread.
What happened to Black Raisin?
As the very first to witness his rise, she inadvertently became his very first martyr.
Where’s Custard Cookie III?
With his relatives in the Crème Republic, alongside the rest of Gingerbrave’s party. The kid has a hard time wrapping his head around what happened to Pure Vanilla, and it may be a blessing that he’s been largely focused on worrying about the well being of his uncle, Clotted Cream Cookie. As the head of the resistance, he’s been working tirelessly… is this what a king goes through too?
Shadow Milk’s opinion on Saint?
To put it simply, he starts out thinking that a delusional Vanilla will be easy to manipulate, but he soon finds out that Saint Vanilla is way smarter and more aware than made out to be. He knows Shadow Milk is with him, and he wants to purge him from his soul; but that is a process that may be harder than anything else. So in the meantime, Shadow Milk can watch as he continues on his path of Penance towards ascension, fighting back the resistance he creates before it can truly harm him. Essentially, Saint Vanilla isn’t trapped with Shadow Milk, Shadow Milk is trapped with Saint Vanilla.
Dragonberry Cookie
Is the skull on her head real?
Yes! It comes from a nondescript monster.
If Pitaya is imprisoned, where is Snapdragon?
With Tarte Tatin and/or Royal Margarine. Dragon City likely got taken over by Dragonberry’s kingdom, but they noped out of there as it happened. The two of them might’ve been the first few to recognize Hollyberry’s spiral into corruption and where it was headed
How is her family doing?
Alright for the most part, but they can feel Dragonberry’s influence in every aspect of their life now. While Royal and Jungleberry are technically still the king and queen, it’s only a figurehead role as Dragonberry is the true ruler. She still cares about her family very much, but she’s controlling and good at keeping them under her thumb. Dragonberry’s granddaughter Princess Cookie is the only one who objects this new way of life, and runs away from the palace.
How would the other dragons react?
The other dragons aren’t canon to CRK so they’re not canon to the au by extension, but just for this question, they’d be different levels of alarmed or concerned save for maybe Longan. I could see Ananas wanting a word with Dragonberry in particular esp since they’re both prideful cookies
Frigid Cacao Cookie
Does he ever go outside?
Very rarely, but it’s usually to observe the licorice sea or meet with the few denizens he has left.
Where is Dark Choco?
Still working on this part (waiting for Apathy pt 2 to come out so I have a better idea), but he’s likely alone by himself. He heard wind of his father’s corruption though and took it less well than he thought he would. Perhaps he’ll run into someone who feels the same?
Is his permafrost truly permanent or can the frozen citizens be thawed?
Technically yes, the permafrost can be thawed, but it’s a meticulous process since Cacao’s ice isn’t normal ice. It’s a cure that Crunchy Chip is looking for to save Caramel Arrow.
How does the licorice sea work for him and how did he come to tame it?
I can’t say how yet outside of the fact that it was a definitely cool and heroic thing for Dark Cacao to do, on the scale of taming the Black and White dragons. The sea, arguably a sentient monster in itself, and all of the creatures within it came to follow Cacao and Cacao only. Now it almost acts like an extension of himself: the beast can make the sea do whatever he wants, like acting as his shield, arms, or barrier, and the licorice horrors will vehemently defend him. There are tons of monsters roaming his frozen kingdom now.
Mystic Flour’s opinion on Cacao?
Working on it, but to some degree she knows Cacao is much stronger than he looks. She might see his apparent apathy for his frozen kingdom with fondness though.
Celestial Cheese Cookie
Is the Golden City still running or did she leave it to die?
It may still be running but in a scaled-down beta form. Cheese learned to accept the fact that what she’d built was entirely fake, but she didn’t move on from regaining what was lost. Her virtual Golden City serves as a blueprint for the kingdom she wants on Earthbread, and then some; with nothing in the barren desert to grow her kingdom, her brightened eyes turn elsewhere towards civilizations that could be brought into the fold. Such is the beginning of the Beast of Conquest’s terror.
She does sometimes visit her golden city, only sometimes. It doesn’t look the same; it’s not a paradise for her to escape to, but it is a promise of what she will have someday. This time, it will be no mirage, and there will be no one to threaten its destruction ever again.
Midnight Lily Cookie
What is her opinion on dark enchantress cookie?
DE is the source of insecurity for Lily, who regards herself as the weakest among all the beasts. Because she’s half of a complete whole, who was already half of another whole, she is passionate about reuniting her souls. While she is focused on expanding the influence of the faerie kingdom, her true goal is to track down Dark Enchantress Cookie and destroy her; but she knows she will need more help than just herself, and has considered asking for help from other vengeful allies.
Does she still guard the silver tree?
Yes, she still fiercely honors Elder Faerie’s wishes.
Have her relationships with the other neo beasts changed?
Ish, most notably her and Celestial Cheese are a little more on speaking terms; but they’re connecting through their potential partnership as Lily hopes she can help her take down Dark Enchantress. In return, she might help her expand her kingdom and take down Burning Spice.
If more FAQs come up, I will make a part two. Thank you for your interest!
#beast ancients au#pure vanilla cookie#hollyberry cookie#dark cacao cookie#golden cheese cookie#white lily cookie#crk#crk au#cookie run kingdom au
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let me have two seconds to rant about akechi.
for one, his living circumstance was not great. shido in no way supported him, or his mother, thus she was alone in raising him and supporting him. this, was the initial moment of realising his father was absent in his life.
when his mother died he was passed around the foster system, which means each experience he had with a family would have been transitory, nothing ever lasted, if it was by his fault or another fact idk but there was no space for even a semblance of healing from his grief or an opportunity to form an attachment to anyone else.
his father views him as nothing, an inconvenience, a useless piece of refuse that he didn't want anything to do with and this has been instilled him in since the day he was able to form a thought about his father. he has worked tirelessly, endlessly to prove that he's worthy of love from someone. his foster families, his father. anyone. |
the way he envies joker and the others is because he could never have that.
he doesn't even have an identity of his own. the sole thing that kept him clawing his way up the ranks and towards his father was hatred. it's all he's ever known. the festering hatred for his father was the impelling force that kept him going, the only thing that was keeping him upright. if he hadn't harboured that hatred, hadn't let it be his driving force he probably wouldn't have made it as far as he had.
he cannot form meaningful bonds because he doesn't have anything other than his hatred. he spent so much of his life in the depths of despair that he possibly didn't even have respite or indulgence in the way of hanging out and having fun with others until he spent time with joker and the others so.
#shakes him around.#he can fit in sooo much mental illness.#god listening to these people analyse him has MADE ME SO INSANE.#there was no other path for him to take.#no one was able to guide him from anywhere but his fate of killing his father.#it was the only thing that was keeping him *sane* keeping him alive.#he'd lost everything and no one had a place for him in their life.#he did everything in his power to make himself what he is.#to form an identity that was not even close to his own just.#cHEWS ON MY FIST.#i have alot to say after listening to his royal interactions.
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For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme, Lamarckism!
(This is an excellent ask.)
Lamarck got done a bit dirty by the textbooks, as one so often is. He's billed as the guy who articulated an evolutionary theory of inherited characteristics, inevitably set up as an opponent made of straw for Darwin to knock down. The example I recall my own teachers using in grade school was the idea that a giraffe would strain to reach the highest branches of a tree, and as a result, its offspring would be born with slightly longer necks. Ha-ha-ha, isn't-that-silly, isn't natural selection so much more sensible?
But the thing is, this wasn't his idea, not even close. People have been running with ideas like that since antiquity at least. What Lamarck did was to systematize that claim, in the context of a wider and much more interesting theory.
Lamarck was born in to an era where natural philosophy was slowly giving way to Baconian science in the modern sense- that strange, eighteenth century, the one caught in an uneasy tension between Newton the alchemist and Darwin the naturalist. This is the century of Ben Franklin and his key and his kite, and the awed discovery that this "electricity" business was somehow involved in living organisms- the discovery that paved the way for Shelley's Frankenstein. This was the era when alchemy was fighting its last desperate battles with chemistry, when the division between 'organic' and 'inorganic' chemistry was fundamental- the first synthesis of organic molecules in the laboratory wouldn't occur until 1828, the year before Lamarck's death. We do not have atoms, not yet. Mendel and genetics are still more than a century away; we won't even have cells for another half-century or more.
Lamarck stepped in to that strange moment. I don't think he was a bold revolutionary, really, or had much interest in being one. He was profoundly interested in the structure and relationships between species, and when we're not using him as a punching bag in grade schools, some people manage to remember that he was a banging good taxonomist, and made real progress in the classification of invertebrates. He started life believing in the total immutability of species, but later was convinced that evolution really was occurring- not because somebody taught him in the classroom, or because it was the accepted wisdom of the time, but through deep, continued exposure to nature itself. He was convinced by the evidence of his senses.
(Mostly snails.)
His problem was complexity. When he'd been working as a botanist, he had this neat little idea to order organisms by complexity, starting with the grubbiest, saddest little seaweed or fern, up through lovely flowering plants. This was not an evolutionary theory, just an organizing structure; essentially, just a sort of museum display. But when he was asked to do the same thing with invertebrates, he realized rather quickly that this task had problems. A linear sorting from simple to complex seemed embarrassingly artificial, because it elided too many different kinds of complexity, and ignored obvious similarities and shared characteristics.
When he went back to the drawing board, he found better organizing schema; you'd recognize them today. There were hierarchies, nested identities. Simple forms with only basic, shared anatomical patterns, each functioning as a sort of superset implying more complex groups within it, defined additively by the addition of new organs or structures in the body. He'd made a taxonomic tree.
Even more shockingly, he realized something deep and true in what he was looking at: this wasn't just an abstract mapping of invertebrates to a conceptual diagram of their structures. This was a map in time. Complexities in invertebrates- in all organisms!- must have been accumulating in simpler forms, such that the most complicated organisms were also the youngest.
This is the essential revolution of Lamarckian evolution, not the inherited characteristics thing. His theory, in its full accounting, is actually quite elaborate. Summarized slightly less badly than it is in your grade school classroom (though still pretty badly, I'm by no means an expert on this stuff), it looks something like this:
As we all know, animals and plants are sometimes generated ex nihilo in different places, like maggots spontaneously appearing in middens. However, the spontaneous generation of life is much weaker than we have supposed; it can only result in the most basic, simple organisms (e.g. polyps). All the dizzying complexity we see in the world around us must have happened iteratively, in a sequence over time that operated on inheritance between one organism and its descendants.
As we all know, living things are dynamic in relation to inorganic matter, and this vital power includes an occasional tendency to gain in complexity. However, this tendency is not a spiritual or supernatural effect; it's a function of natural, material processes working over time. Probably this has something to do with fluids such as 'heat' and 'electricity' which are known to concentrate in living tissues. When features appear spontaneously in an organism, that should be understood as an intrinsic propensity of the organism itself, rather than being caused by the environment or by a divine entity. There is a specific, definite, and historically contingent pattern in which new features can appear in existing organisms.
As we all know, using different tissue groups more causes them to be expressed more in your descendants, and disuse weakens them in the same way. However, this is not a major feature in the development of new organic complexity, since it could only move 'laterally' on the complexity ladder and will never create new organs or tissue groups. At most, you might see lineages move from ape-like to human-like or vice versa, or between different types of birds or something; it's an adaptive tendency that helps organisms thrive in different environments. In species will less sophisticated neural systems, this will be even less flexible, because they can't supplement it with willpower the way that complex vertebrates can.
Lamarck isn't messing around here; this is a real, genuinely interesting model of the world. And what I think I'm prepared to argue here is that Lamarck's biggest errors aren't his. He has his own blind spots and mistakes, certainly. The focus on complexity is... fraught, at a minimum. But again and again, what really bites him in the ass is just his failure to break with his inherited assumptions enough. The parts of this that are actually Lamarckian, that is, are the ideas of Lamarck, are very clearly groping towards a recognizable kind of proto-evolutionary theory in a way that we recognize.
What makes Lamarck a punching bag in grade-school classes today is the same thing that made it interesting; it's that it was the best and most scientific explanation of biological complexity available at the time. It was the theory to beat, the one that had edged out all the other competitors and emerged as the most useful framework of the era. And precisely none of that complexity makes it in to our textbooks; they use "Lamarckianism" to refer to arguments made by freaking Aristotle, and which Lamarck himself accepted but de-emphasized as subordinate processes. What's even worse, Darwin didn't reject this mechanism either. Darwin was totally on board with the idea as a possible adaptive tendency; he just didn't particularly need it for his theory.
Lamarck had nothing. Not genetics, not chromosomes, not cells, not atomic theory. Geology was a hot new thing! Heat was a liquid! What Lamarck had was snails. And on the basis of snails, Lamarck deduced a profound theory of complexity emerging over time, of the biosphere as a(n al)chemical process rather than a divine pageant, of gradual adaptation punctuated by rapid innovation. That's incredible.
There's a lot of falsehood in the Lamarckian theory of evolution, and it never managed to entirely throw off the sloppy magical thinking of what came before. But his achievement was to approach biology and taxonomy with a profound scientific curiosity, and to improve and clarify our thinking about those subjects so dramatically that a theory of biology could finally, triumphantly, be proven wrong. Lamarck is falsifiable. That is a victory of the highest order.
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DP X DC PROMPT #26
(I'm feeling angsty today.)
(#) = Notes at the end of post
(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.
✦
Going Supernova
The GIW have discovered his identity, and they don't waste time on using this knowledge to their advantage. They spent the last six months creating a weapon that not only hurts ghosts but absolutely obliterates them down to their very cores. After testing it for so long on minor ghosts and then discovering the local ghostly menace's secret, they have the bright idea to make an example out of Danny.
They ambush him as he's fighting the invading ghost of the day. Their first shot misses and hits the ghost they're fighting. As soon as the shot lands, the ghost freezes in place with a look of dread and horror.
They look up at Danny with tears in their eyes and has only a few precious seconds to say, "Run," before their skin cracks and they shatter, the miniscule shards evaporating into nothingness.
Danny is petrified and grief-stricken over what he just witnessed that he doesn't have the time to even twitch before the GIW lock their sights back onto him and shoot him in the back.
Agony consumes him. His chest burns, and his ribs rattle with the effort it takes for him to breathe through the pain. The civilians who were still on the scene gasped in horror as they watched their local hero's chest start to crack and glow from within.
What the GIW didn't know was that Danny had just recently elevated to Ancient status due to helping Clockwork with the timestream. That and with his status as a halfa, what they did will end in nothing but disaster. (1)
Danny spots his parents, sister, and friends in the crowd. His parents watched in awe and excitement while his Jazz, Sam, and Tucker looked at him with horror-stricken disbelief. Knowing what's to come and not having enough time to explain, he gives them a wobbly smile.
"I'm so sorry."
He whips around and rockets straight up into the sky. He breaks through the atmosphere in a matter of seconds and continues to fly at breakneck speed away from the little green-blue planet he calls home. He has to get away. He can't destabilize so close to them. He has to go even further.
His form is steadily breaking off into pieces as his human and ghost half fight and fail to keep him together. He can feel his human half dying and his ghost half barely holding on by a thread. He can't stop, though. If he stops here, the Earth will be destroyed from the backlash.
He had no worry for himself. After all, stars die all the time. That doesn't mean that's the end for them. They just take on a new form or even help breathe new planets and galaxies into life.
'A star's death is not the end!' He comforts himself.
He only makes it a few light-years further before his energy fades out to nothing, and he slows to a halt. It's only then that Danny starts to panic alone in the vacuum of space. The furthest he's even been from home and the comfort of his friends and family.
"No. No, no, no, no." He repeats over and over. "Not far enough. Not far enough! I'm still too close!!" (2)
His stuttering heart rabbits inside his chest along with his crumbling core. He hugs himself tight with the false hope that maybe that would stop himself from falling apart. He cries for his family, his friends, his planet. His life and lives he's about to take through no fault of his own.
Because for a star to give life, they must first destroy. (3)
"I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry! Please!"
He sobs into his hands as the light of his core pulses one final time.
"Please." He whispers brokenly.
His core shatters, and he screams for the entire cosmos to hear. His form expands with immeasurable force and shakes the very foundations of creation. His desperate attempt to spare the Earth from his self-destruction was in vain as the waves of his shattered core ravaged the solar system and destroyed everything within its path.
The countless people and other creatures on Earth didn't even have time to blink before they were completely eradicated. Quick and painless but nonetheless gone.
It took centuries for everything to settle again.
It wasn't until countless millennium passed that the solar system began to take shape again. However, everything was reshaped and put back together as though with a child's memory of what it used to be from so long ago. Some things were bound to be different, like how Mars gained its own population of intelligent humanoid creatures. How Earth's own population started to develop extraordinary abilities and magic was able to be used more freely outside of supernatural species.
Soon, there were heroes popping up all over the universe of all shapes, sizes, and species. Some people were even reborn. They started remembering a life that, as far as they knew, never actually existed. How could it? None of the people they were before showed up in any records. There were records, of course. They just, unfortunately, no longer existed.
No one knew why, either. At least not until a magic user stumbled upon a tome belonging to what they knew as the Underworld. It told the story of a young boy who died too young and was destroyed from what he became afterward. How his destruction also destroyed the world despite the boy's efforts to save it.
This story was shared with the masses of people experiencing these memories of other lives, including the heroes who took up the mantle of keeping the Earth and other corners of the galaxy safe. They mourned the loss of a life so young, so bright and full of potential. They hoped that wherever the child ended up, that they were at peace.
Little did they know, the child was part of the universe itself, his very being woven into the fabric that makes up the night sky and everything that lays beyond. They can't see or hear him, but that precious child--the Ancient of Space--laid curled around the Milky Way itself with Earth cradled gently in his trembling hands.
✦
(1) Because of his status as the new Ancient of Space and the fact that he is half human/alive is the reason his destabilization took longer than the ghost he was previously fighting. An Ancient has immense power of the aspect of reality they control, and his human half was desperately trying to keep him alive. He can't live without his ghost half, though. It was also the power of his Ancient status that made his destabilization so explosive and damaging. However, him being a halfa is also what saved his existence in the end and allows him to still continue to be the Ancient of Space, as Space itself is always in a state of dying and rebirth. It just took several thousands of years to pull himself back into a semblance of what he previously was, but obviously irrevocably changed.
(2) According to scientists a supernova would have to be within 30-50 light-years to trigger a mass extinction on Earth. To be actually completely safe from one, however, it'd have to be 160 or more light-years away. Danny didn't even make it to 20 light-years before his core self-destructed, which is why he was panicking.
(3) As I'm sure most of you know, supernovae are essential to creating life, but that life is preceded by the death of said star.
(*) I haven't really thought of who would be reborn into which character. I originally thought of Jack Fenton being reborn as Bruce Wayne, but Bruce only disguises himself as a himbo while Jack actually is one. The only reason I thought it would work out it because 1) Jack's paranoia about ghosts and translating into Bruce's own paranoia 2) him regaining his past memories would explain his propensity to collect black-haired, blue eyed children because of his loss of Danny and 3) him and his relationship with Jason after he came back as Red Hood.
Other than that, I can't think of who any of the other characters might be. You can decide!
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#danny goes supernova#the giw fuck up#but when don't they#ancient of space danny#danny's destruction destroys the universe and everyone in it#time passes and he eventually regains enough of a form and consciousness to put it back together#but not a 1:1 recreation#several millennium of existence is bound to make the memory foggy#and thus the DCU is born!#some but not all characters have memories of their past lives before the universe was destroyed#they're yours to decide#danny did self destruct but he is NOT permanently gone#space has a natural cycle of death and rebirth#danny is still the ancient of space#the people sympathize and mourn what happened to danny#they think he's gone but he's not#your decision if they do discover he's still around tho!#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#writing prompt#prompt#sleepy writes stuff
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Angel Pt.II
pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader
disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. suggestive content. swearing. 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ™️. not proofread !
a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware of the poll results, but I had already planned to go against the consensus beforehand (cuz ain’t nobody tells me what to do). So smut in pt.III I promise. pls don’t be mad. Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡
╰ ┈➤ Part I
One of Jason's most cherished aspects of his Red Hood helmet was its ability to allow him to doze off undetected. He was curious how Y/N would react if he fell asleep at her place. He knew many people often tried, and foolishly so, to take off his helmet when he was asleep to try to find his identity. Despite his affection for her, he felt the need to ensure her trustworthiness because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear if she betrayed him. If she were to betray him, he reasoned, it would be better sooner rather than later. Feigning sleep, he waited. For a while she just sat and watched him. And not in a vigilant or cautious way, atleast it didn't that way to him. He hoped she would remain that way, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. He heard her retreat to her room, the smallness of her apartment allowing him to observe almost every movement. Maybe I'll buy her a nicer place, he thought to himself.
As she approached him, she checked once more, hiding something behind her back. She wouldn't try to take off his helmet, would she? A profound sense of dread and apprehension gripped him. She was the last person he wanted to betray him. Soon he found himself questioning his own judgment and the authenticity of the relationship. What did you expect? A sinister voice taunted him.
He felt his brain cloud with a whirlwind of emotions such as shock, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and confusion. When her fingertips grazed his helmet, it felt like a deep, agonizing wound piercing to his core. Initially, there was disbelief—a refusal to acknowledge that someone he loved and trusted could do that. He could feel the pit rage resurface, fierce and consuming, directed at her and perhaps even at himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to be wounded in such a way.
He anticipated her lifting his helmet, only she didn't. She withdrew her hands and let out a tiny giggle. He was struck with the realisation that she didn't try to take his helmet off, rather she placed something atop it. It was out of his field of view so he couldn't quite tell what it was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her take out her phone and snap a picture. Unfortunately for her, she forgot to switch off the flash. Jason took the opportunity and in the blink of an eye, her grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his shoulder, slamming into the couch. He pushed his forearm against her throat with his other hand pinning her under him.
“What do you think you're doing angel ?” He growled as his thumb trailed from her bottom lip to her cheek in a gesture that was equal parts sultry and sinister. Her eyes widened like saucers as cold sweat started to form on the side of her forehead. Her body might froze momentarily before trembling with fear. He didn't realise just how small she felt against him until he was on top of her. Akin to a quivering rabbit ensnared in a hunter's trap. Truth be told, the analogy wasn't far off.
"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. I swear it was a prank —" She tugged at her restraints with tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her breathing becoming shallower and rapid but Jason didn't budge. She felt all too aware of the situation she was in. His proximity so close that she could feel so exposed under his gaze. It was intimidating yet so intoxicating, the feeling of being enclosed by him, the scent that was so intense and virile was enough to make her head spin. She could hear her heartbeat resonating in her ears and it was clear that he could too. Needless to say, Y/N L/N messed up big time.
"What was ? Hmm?" He leaned in closer to her face until his helmet was mere centimeters away, relishing in the sadistic pleasure of watching her teary eyes as she whimpered and muttered incomprehensible apologies. Seeing her struggle to form words, he picked up her phone to view the picture she had taken. It was him with what seemed like — a fuzzy bear ears headband? He plucked it from his helmet, staring at it incredulously. You have got to be kidding me.
"You're so fucking adorable, you know that ?" He let out an airy chuckle that was felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh. "You're not mad at me ?"Y/N's voice sounded so desperate like a broken whimper. Her pretty eyes still wide and a little teary and red at the ends, a visible look of confusion etched onto it.
He wanted to stroke her cheek again, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. "I don't know. Should I be?" He chuckled, and while he was mostly teasing, he couldn't help but marvel at her.
Despite his experiences with many women, he had never encountered someone so captivating. Just by the virtue of being pinned under him, she looked just so impossibly inviting. Jason found himself rendered breathless as his mind wandered into the realm of the most salacious thoughts.
"But this warrants punishment. Does it not?" He watched her breath catching in her throat, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushing with heat.
Y/N swallowed hard," Punishment ?" She nervously peered at the man, a a slight shiver running down her spine as she could almost feel his piercing cold gaze from behind the red helmet. She understood her predicament and knew she shouldn't be enjoying it. It could take an unfavourable turn at any given moment and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Suddenly, he released her hands and leaned back. Despite feeling a little disoriented from his sudden absence of his towering self, Y/N sat back up. Jason held up the headband in his hand,"Do you have more of these?"
"A few. Yes" she replied.
"Go get them." he said nonchalantly. Y/N blinked at his request, feeling a hint of disappointment creeping in. As she rose slowly and made her way to the dresser, she scolded herself internally, Jesus get your brain out of the gutter Y/N. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she gathered all the headbands she had and dropped them onto the couch. "You have quite the collection," Jason chuckled, examining a headband. "Mostly from previous Halloweens and costume cafés I used to work at." Y/N explained. Jason's gaze settled on a particularly intriguing headband - white floppy bunny ears with pink bows. He tossed it onto her lap, grinning,“Put this on.”
Y/N complied without question and looked at him expectantly. Jason whipped out his phone and aimed it at her,“ Strike me a cute pose angel." Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise embarrassment," Wait what ?”
"Well you clicked that picture of me so it's pretty fair trade if you ask me." He reasoned, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though secretly relishing the moment thoroughly. He maintained composure, not wanting to risk scaring her away. He eagerly snapped photos as Y/N reluctantly donned the headband and flashed a small peace sign, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his own heart racing in his chest and his face growing warm.
"Please don't show it to anyone. It's embarrassing," She pleaded. Jason acknowledged her request with an absentminded nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn't quite reached the stage of covertly taking pictures and plastering them on his walls like a stalker, but he reasoned that photos she consented to were fair game. Plus that was more Tim's thing, Jason liked shooting his shot up front or atleast that’s what he told himself. He casually grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap so she wouldn't have to see his raging boner.
"Now how about we fire up the console. Video games you said?" Jason suggested holding the dvd in his hand that Y/N had completely forgotten about. She eagerly grabbed the controllers and settled onto the couch, anticipation sparking in her eyes as the previous tension eased. Jason stared at the game dvd and couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. "Do you play video games often ?" Y/N asked him with a smile. "Only when I'm with the boys at the batcave or with Ro – ahem I meant Arsenal. Starfire is temporarily banned because she's burnt too many controllers out of excitement." She laughed at his words, almost imagining the scene.
"Well I'm sure you dominate in physical fights. Let's see how you hold out in a virtual one. I hope you're ready." Y/N challenged, a competitive gleam in her eyes.
"Bring it on angel." Jason replied, his fingers already poised over the buttons. Before they knew, they were completely immersed in the game, their laughter and exchanging banter and competitive jabs filling the room. Whether they were working together to overcome a tough level or engaging in heated competition, their bond only grew stronger with each passing minute.
"Oh come on ! You've won like the fourth time in a row. This thing has to be rigged !" Jason accusingly jabbed his controller at the screen in frustration, eliciting laughter from Y/N at how worked up he got over something insignificant like a video game.
"'ll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a pro. Back in college, gaming was like my side hustle," she whispered with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer. Jason's interest piqued at her revelation. He couldn't deny his curiosity about how she had been these past few years. Despite his thorough investigations, he knew that no amount of research could uncover the personal intricacies of her college life - the moments of joy that lit up her face, the frustrations that weighed heavy on her shoulders, the solitary hours spent, the struggles she endured, and the victories she celebrated. It was a side of her story that remained untold, a mystery he was eager to unravel.
"In college, I used to dress up real cute and go to frat parties and challenge guys to play with me and if they lost they'd have to pay me." Y/N continued. It sounded like a perfect plan on paper. Deceptive disguise, psychologically analysing targets and exploiting their weaknesses against them, strategic thinking and meticulosity. But her explanation wasn't enough to satiate his curiosity. "And what if they won?" The most important part of any good plan was enticing bait. A part of him knew the answer but still wanted confirmation. "Something no college frat boy would reject. I said I'd blow their dick." Y/N grinned causing Jason to visibly freeze in disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but don’t worry l've never lost. Ever," she assured him quickly. After a pause, Jason's voice wavered at the start of the sentence as he spoke up, "How much did they have to pay you if you won?" Y/ N furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to recall the details from the past events. Amidst the long hours of studying in med school and her meager earnings from a part-time job, she had resorted to more crafty ways of earning money and gaming happened to be the most lucrative option to make more in less time.
"Well, most college students couldn't afford to pay much, so it was ten dollars per game," she explained. Jason nodded, retrieving his wallet. "You beat me four times, right ?" With determination, he placed four hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table before her, his next words filled with unwavering resolve,"Play your game with me angel.” Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of the money on the table, and she took in a deep breath, contemplating his offer for a moment. What could she possibly have to lose?
“It's okay Red. You tried.” After two more rounds of competition, Jason suffered a devastating loss before finally realizing why he felt a sense of déjà vu— it was the same video game he, Duke, Dick, and Tim had played a couple of months ago. He vividly remembered losing his temper, nearly throwing hands when Tim used underhanded tactics against him and Dick violated every rule of sportsmanship and sacrificing every last modicum of decency over the game and Damian scoffing at their "immaturity" like he always did while Duke tried his best to pacify the conflict. The reason he didn't recognise this before was because him and Y/N were playing in a different mode than this. "How about we switch up the mode?"
"Sure let's do it."Y/N grinned confidently. The two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the glowing neon screens in front of them. Their fingers danced across the controllers, every move was calculated, every strategy meticulously planned as they vied for dominance. The room was filled with the sound of intense concentration and occasional bursts of laughter or frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, as neither of them were willing to concede an inch in this high-stakes competition. With every round, the stakes rose, and the intensity only grows as they pushed each other to their limits in pursuit of victory.
"You have got to be kidding me." Y/N breathed out as the letters "GAME OVER" As the defeat screen flashed before her eyes, she recoiled in shock, her mouth agape in disbelief. Her eyes widened in astonishment, unable to comprehend how her skill that she believed to be unparalleled had fallen short. Her hands, which had been gripping the controller tightly, now hung limply by her sides, fingers trembling with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Jason's heart raced with exhilaration, his body shaking with the rush of victory. With a triumphant shout, he leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air as a grin stretched across his face. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !! LET'S FUCKING GO !!!”
Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she comprehended the implication of her loss. Her cheeks flushed with a faint blush of embarrassment and she averted her gaze while fidgeting nervously in her seat. Her tongue ran over her lips as she avoided meeting Jason's eyes. He noticed this and remembered what the winning condition was. He straightened up and cleared his throat, regaining his composure," You know it was just a silly game, you don't have to do that. I won't force you into doing anything you're not comfortable with." Y/N managed a small relieved smile," Thank you. But you know a bet is a bet. So how about a kiss instead ? Wait you’re over 18, right ?"
"A kiss ? Oh cool. Yeah we could do that and to answer your question I’m legal. I’d show you my ID but that kinda defeats the whole purpose of the secret identity thing." Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite how he composed on the outside, he could almost hear his 10 year old self rejoicing at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his first love. Ever since the warehouse incident, he had buried that naive part of himself, believing it to be dead along with other redeeming qualities, at least according to those around him.
He knew he wandered down dark paths, driven by desires of revenge, bitterness and reckless impulses. But when he looked into her eyes, deep within him, he felt that there was a flicker of hope, a belief that redemption is possible. He knew he wasn't deserving of someone so sweet and pure, but perhaps just this once, he would allow himself this one indulgence.
"So should I like bring out the scarf ?" Y/N asked. Her heart, which was felt unstable and claustrophobically confined inside of her, hammering against her ribcage as if it sought to burst out and soar away. "Don't bother." Jason interjected, producing a small black box from his jacket pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, but never found the right moment." Y/N opened the box and found a silk blindfold which was black on one side and red on the other, the same shade of red as his helmet. As her fingertips glided over its surface, it felt like touching liquid satin. There's a distinct sensation of coolness and silkiness that enveloped her. It was like touching a cloud or being embraced by a gentle breeze. “What's this for ? Don't trust my scarf enough ?” Y/N joked. Jason shrugged his shoulders and answered casually,“Well yes and no. Your scarf is made of scratchy fabric and you have sensitive skin so I thought —”
“How do you know I have sensitive skin ?” She couldn’t recall sharing that detail, finding it peculiar that he knew. Jason bit his tongue, regretting his slip-up. It was one of those things he remembered about her from years ago. When they were younger, she would often complaint how her work uniform was really scratchy and how she hated it against her sensitive skin and he would always say that when he grew up he would buy her the nicest and softest of clothes. But of course given their current circumstance, he couldn’t tell her that.
Jason pointed to the bottle of lotion sitting on the dinner table. “That. It says for dry and sensitive skin.” Y/N turned in the direction he pointed her astonishment rendering her momentarily speechless, her mouth agape, unable to comprehend how he pieced together such intricate details. Her eyes widened with admiration, reflecting a mixture of awe and reverence for his uncanny ability to observe so keenly, she commented,“ You know everything about you is such a suspension of disbelief kinda thing. Like I’m sure you could tell me the craziest things and I’d go ‘yeah sure that makes sense’. ”Jason chuckled awkwardly, relieved that he had quickly found an explanation for his slip-up and diverted her suspicion,“Well you know being around batman, the detective shit rubs off.”
Y/N raised the blindfold to her eye level and with deliberate movements, she tied it securely around her head, feeling the darkness engulfing her vision. The fabric is incredibly fine, almost weightless against her skin. The smoothness of silk glides effortlessly against the skin, created a feeling of luxury and indulgence effectively making the moment much more sensuous than it was supposed be. With the blindfold tied securely around her eyes, a hush fell over her surroundings, amplifying the sound of her own heartbeat.
A sense of anticipation filled her, as if the world had suddenly become a mystery waiting to be explored solely through touch, sound, and intuition. She couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her veins, feeling herself surrendering to the unknown, willingly relinquishing the sense of sight for a deeper, more visceral experience. As darkness enveloped her, her other senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. Y/N let out a soft gasp when she heard his helmet being set down on the table with a quiet thud.
“You know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to back out. I —” Jason began tentatively, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. She reassured him calmly, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He slowly cupped her face and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Jason’s lips brushed against hers, uncertain and almost fearful. “Y/N I—” he stilled against her, waiting for her reaction. He knew this was one bridge that once burnt would either leave him at the edge of the abyss or paradise and needless to say, he couldn’t blow this. “Just shut up and kiss me Red. You earned it.”
“Yes ma’am,”Jason let out a breath of disbelief. The world around him seemed to melt away and all that existed was her and the euphoric feeling of her warm and pliant mouth on his. The beast inside him thrashed against the iron bars of his cage of self control, its roars echoing within him — wanting nothing but to sink his teeth into Y/N’s supple and inviting flesh and ravage her. His fingers cupping her face twitched with the need to touch more of her. Before he knew, his hands slid up of its own accord and tangled themselves in the soft locks of her hair.
Jason spent a lifetime honing his self control. Batman had drilled its importance into his system but as of now could feel every last ounce of self control he possessed slip through his fingers like sand. But he forced himself to focus. A part of him felt guilty for feeling the way he felt about her, his need for her — it was desperate, perverse, wrong even because Jason knew that if she realised that who he was she might never look at him the same way again but he couldn’t get himself to let go of something so damnably intoxicating. Y/N was the first one to pull away, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if trying to catch up with her sprinting heart. She could feel him grin against her lips.
“Good game Red.”
“Does anyone else feel like she's finally lost it, or is it just me ?”
"I can hear you, Stephanie," Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. In retaliation, the blonde high schooler blew a raspberry at her co-worker, causing Y/N to shake her head in resignation. "That's why I said it. Babs back me up," Stephanie retorted.
“Please. We have enough crazies in Gotham as it is, there’s no need for any more.” Barbara Gordon was another one of Y/N best friends along with Cass Cain and was the daughter of the GCPD commissioner and the girlfriend of Dick Grayson. She was a couple years older than Y/N and most of all, the mom friend and pacifist of the group.
"But you know you have been acting strange. You've been touching your lips every five minutes and zoning out like right now —" Cass trailed off, sipping coffee from cup. Not realizing that she was doing that right now, Y/N jerked her hand off as if caught while stealing. The second the words left Cass's mouth, a realization dawned on the trio simultaneously, as if a light bulb had illuminated above their heads.
"What ?" Y/N muttered feeling oddly cornered. Trying her hardest to ignore the elephant in the room, she went back to working. The three friends exchanged glances, silently debating who would broach the subject with Y/N. Eventually, Barbara rolled her eyes and took charge, as neither of the younger girls seemed willing. "Y/N, I'd like to order," Barbara declared, wheeling her wheelchair closer to the counter. Y/N shifted her attention to her, nodding as she grabbed a pen and notepad, ready to take Barbara's order with practiced efficiency.
"I'd like to order tea," Barbara stated.
"Sure. So, would that be Earl Grey?" Y/N asked with a knowing smile.
"Nope."
"Assamese?"
"Not that either."
"Darjeeling ? Jasmine ? Matcha ?" Y/N proposed, offering a variety of tea options in an attempt to pinpoint Barbara's preference, her brows furrowing in confusion as to why she wasn't ordering her usual. “Then ?” She tilted her head in questioning but Barbara just smiled back and winked playfully,“You know, tea, piping hot if you know what I mean.”
“Uggh fine you win. So there's this guy,” The h/c haired woman started slowly and the three women groaned in unison. This was a common yet much disliked drill. The atmosphere shifted and a heavy silence settles over the group. Cass's eyes widened, a look worry flashing across her face. She exchanged a quick glance with Steph, who mirrored her expression. Barbara, ever the voice of reason, remained composed but her concern was evident in the slight furrow of her brow,“ We’ve talked about this.”
Y/N, the one who had made the revelation, shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of her companions. She could feel the weight of their judgment bearing down on her, and it made her regret ever bringing up the topic. “Okay just hear me out —”
There was a moment of hesitation, as if each of them was struggling with how to respond to this. Finally, it was Steph who broke the silence, her voice edged with frustration.
“No there will be no ‘hear me out’s. Look Y/N Imma be honest with you. You’re legit nicer than 99.99% gothamites and in all honesty the only thing I hate about you is your fucking taste in men. Every seven months you come with hear me out on men who are leather wearing alcoholics and are always gaslighting, lying, cheating, abusive bastards or just straight up criminals !” She whispered in a tone passionately incredulous, drawing attention from other cafe patrons. Cass remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. It was clear that she shared Steph's apprehension about their friend's poor taste in men.
Barbara chose her words carefully. “She’s right, you do have a bit of a problem. We just don’t want you getting hurt over guys like that or worse them hurting you and I don’t mean just emotionally.” she spoke gently, her tone laced with genuine concern.
“It’s not even that bad —” Y/N started. “Well you did date a two bit drug dealer.” Cass muttered quietly. “How was I supposed to know that ? It’s not like he offered me to do cocaine on the first date plus Orphan did save me in the nick of time so no harm done.” Y/N huffed in defense.
“Why don’t you try dating someone who’s actually nice for a change?”
“Sure, like who?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.
“Maybe someone who’s like Dick?” Steph suggested. Dick Grayson was the epitome of the popular charismatic jock kid at school. It wasn’t hard to understand why he was so liked — with his sanguine personality, witty puns, kind hearted and generous personality he was pretty much the shining paragon of an upstanding citizen and your boy next door. Unfortunately, such traits rarely aligned with Y/N tastes. “I mean he’s very attractive of course but he’s just not my type you know. He’s too —”
“Nice ?” Barbara guessed.
“Yeah, that. But if he has a brother then well—” Y/N trailed off, half-jokingly.
“No!” The three exclaimed in unison, catching her off guard. Their eyes widened as if she said something really offensive.
“Whoa what was that about ?” Y/N asked. The three exchanged glances, and Barbara cleared her throat before speaking up. “Well, Dick does have brothers. Two of them are minors, so that’s an immediate no, and the third one— he’s not a bad guy per se. He would never hurt a woman, especially someone as sweet as you, but—”
“But?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and shook her head, urging her friend to continue.
“He’s got issues. Like a boatload of them,” she finished, carefully articulating each word.
“What sort of issue ? Daddy issues ? Mommy Issues ? Parental Issues ? Parental Issues - Orphan Edition ? Step parent issues ? I’ve dealt with them all before you know.”
“More like all, in that order.” Cass muttered.
“Wow this guy sounds like a party. You should introduce me to him sometime. Him and I would definitely hit it off.” Y/N joked.
“Please don’t come up with any more of those ‘I can fix him’s. You’re a barista not Handy Manny.”
Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to brush off their concerns. “You know what I usually mean by I can fix him is that I can made him tolerable till I get bored of him and dump him. Sure, I’ve made mistakes but this one is different,”she insisted.
“Different how ?” Barbara raised her brow skeptically.
Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she regaled her friends about the events of the video game bet, conveniently leaving out the details of Red being a vigilante and that prank incident — they didn’t need to know that. Her friends leaned in, somewhat captivated by her animated storytelling. Gasps of disbelief and amazement erupted from her friends. Their curiosity evident as they leaned in, eager to soak in every detail of the story.
The tension in the air had eased as the group exchanged glances, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings about the situation. It was clear that this revelation had thrown them all for a loop, leaving them unsure of how to proceed. But one thing was certain – they would stand by their friend, even if they didn't particularly agree with her choices.
“You know only I was of legal age, I’d wife you up so fast it’d set world records. That ways we wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Steph lamented, earning a smack from Y/N. Despite her sassy quips and teasing, Stephanie Brown was never shy to be vocal about her affections for her favourite barista. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not into kids. Also aren’t you dating Tim ?” Y/N asked.
“Well yeah. But he’s not like my boyfriend boyfriend. He’s like my pet ferret than my boyfriend.”
“I was so sure I got promoted to pet guinea pig last Monday.” A voice piped up from Y/N’s side. She let out a small scream, her body tensing up in pure terror. Her heart raced as she spun around, eyes wide with fear, her hands poised to defend herself, only to find Tim Drake with an expression of mock offence on his face and Dick next to him with his head propped on top of his fist, listening intently with a smile on his face.
“How long have you been standing here ?” She exclaimed, putting her hand on her hip, her voice a mixture of surprise and reproach. Dick’s mischievous grin faltered slightly as she held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oh don’t mind me," he said, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’m just here for the girl talk."
“Dick I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. You aren’t allowed when we’re having the girl talk.” Y/N jabbed her finger in warning at him, her tone tainted with a hint of genuine irritation.
“What ? Why ? Ever since I first watched Mean Girls I’ve always dreamed of being a part of a girl clique. You can’t do this to me.” Wearing a mock expression of sadness and offence, he pouted like a five year old child, crossing his arms.
“Well you can’t sit with us detective.”
“Why not ?”
“Well because this is a girl clique. Duh.” Steph sassed back. Dick raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief,“Discrimination, plain and simple. I demand equal rights for guy friends in girl cliques !”
Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Nice try but no. You're always welcome for skin care and movie nights. But girl talk is strictly off-limits. And no don’t look at Babs, she can’t and won’t help you."
Dick’s shoulders slumped dramatically, admitting defeat. "I guess it's just one of life's cruel ironies. But hey, I can still be an honorary member, right ?" He gave her a hopeful grin, knowing fully well that his charm wouldn't be enough to sway her strict rules.
“Just give up man. Winning isn’t in the cards for you. Now, scram. Y/N should please continue.” Tim shooed Dick as if he were a stray dog. “Tim you too.” Cass deadpanned.
“Why ? I’m not like him ! Pretty sure you girls can make exceptions for bi guinea pigs.” He retorted.
“Ferret,” Steph corrected,“ You ate my turkey sandwich last Tuesday so you got demoted to ferret.”
“Only if you’re ready to forfeit your right to a free coffee refills after five paid cups a day.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. Tim’s expression twisted into sheer horror, as if she had threatened his very existence. Given his caffeine addiction, it might as well have been a threat on his life.
Tim cleared his throat and began with a disapproving look, "Ahem. Richard, isn't it utterly disgraceful for esteemed gentlemen like us to eavesdrop on ladies like that? Shame on you. What would Alfred and Bruce say ?"
“Who are Alfred and Bruce?” Y/N inquired. Tim immediately regretted his words, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh, just seniors at work,” Dick hastily replied with an awkward laugh. “You two should probably head out,” Barbara interjected with a pointed look. Tim and Dick hurriedly departed without any sign of resistance. As Y/N turned, she noticed Cass had vanished, and Steph had returned to her tasks, leaving her to process the recent events alone. Huh. Weird.
As Y/N’s weary hand reached for the brass doorknob of her house, she felt the exhaustion of the day to loosen its grip on her, replaced by a sense of relief. The metal of the doorknob offered a stark contrast between its own cold surface and the warmth of home she longed for beyond the threshold. With a familiar click, the door swung open and she hung her bag and scarf on the hat stand. The second she stepped through the threshold, a pleasant aroma of spices and the sound of someone humming to a song floated through the air. The scent was homely and comforting. Wait. I live alone then who’s cooking in the kitchen ? Puzzled and scared, she dropped her keys on the table and cautiously made her way towards the kitchen. With every step, the sound of sizzling and the clinking of utensils grew louder. Tiptoeing to the edge of the kitchen wall, she peered around the corner.
“Red ?” Her eyes widened as she stared at the most unlikely scene she could’ve ever imagined in her life. The vigilante Red Hood — Prince of Gotham, Scourge of the Underworld, the Wraith of Gotham, the Renegade Knight — stood in Y/N’s normal sized apron that looked comically small on him, stirring pasta sauce while listening to Taylor Swift. She stood frozen, unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of her.
“You’re back !” She could almost see him grinning from behind his signature mask. She blinked several times, thinking all of this was some sort of wishful thinking induced daydream. But the smell of simmering marinara and the faint sound of Taylor Swift's voice confirmed otherwise, effectively shattering any semblance of normalcy in the room leaving her to wonder how could this larger-than-life figure, feared by criminals and revered by the city, be standing in her humble kitchen cooking pasta ?
Yet, there he was, a paradoxical blend of hero and something so curiously domestic. As she watched him, a mix of amusement and curiosity washed over her. “What’s going on here ?” Y/N asked, gesturing to the kitchen in general. “Oh this ? Um it sort of happened,” Jason replied casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a vigilante to be whipping up a meal in someone else's kitchen.
“It just happened ?” Y/N repeated dumbfounded. She leaned against the kitchen counter, still trying to process the scene before her. Looking around, she noticed the counter cluttered with groceries she didn’t recall purchasing. Opening the fridge, she saw that her once-empty fridge was stocked with gourmet items she had only seen on upscale cooking shows. “Well I came to see you but you hadn’t returned from work. I got up to get a glass of water from the fridge and saw that there wasn’t anything in it so I —”he began, attempting to explain the situation.
“So you bought me groceries ? And the pasta ? That also just happened ?” she asked, her interest piqued. "Um yeah. It did," he admitted sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It was on a whim don’t think too much of it.” Jason glanced at her, hoping she would find his gesture too strange. His eyes flitted to the clock on the wall before landing back at her,"I figured that it’s already dark outside so it’s not safe to go get stuff. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he quipped, flashing a hint of pride in his voice.
She couldn't argue with that. As she watched him continue to cook, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Despite the reputation he amassed, he was here, in her home, bringing solace that no one had in a very long time. Her world felt harmonious, as if every piece fell into place effortlessly. In that moment, Red Hood wasn't just a feared vigilante—he was a friend, albeit an unusual one, who had somehow found his way into her life and her kitchen and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“By the way,” Jason began, wiping his hands on the apron and shifting his tone to seriousness as he turned towards her, “I wanted to ask you something. Where did you get that?” He gestured towards the felt clipboard hanging on the opposite wall. Y/N followed his gaze, seeing the map of Gotham he had given her along with the necklace the week they met. It had really helped her avoid dangerous parts of the town after dark. But why was he asking about it when he was the one who gave it to her? “What do you mean? You’re the one who gave me the map,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.
“Not the map. The batarang. I don’t recall leaving any of those here,” he clarified. Y/N’s eyes fell on the sleek metal batarang pinning the map to the clipboard. Her mouth rounded in an ‘o’ when she pieced it together. “The batarang ? Red Robin gave it to me.” she exclaimed. Her words clearly struck a nerve because Jason felt completely silent following her words. “It’s a funny story actually. You know I work at a café. This one night I was closing up and Red Robin came in asking for a coffee refill. I had almost closed up the shop but the poor thing looked like he had been through hell so I refilled his coffee. He tried to pay but he couldn’t find his wallet so he paid with a batarang.” She quickly added, hoping to diffuse any building tension.
Jason wordlessly walked to the clipboard and effortlessly retrieving the batarang before swapping it with his own from his pocket. “Better.” He muttered with satisfaction, addressing no one in particular. “Hey give that back !” Y/N tried to take it from his hand but he held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. “What do you even need it for ?” He asked sounding somewhat annoyed. “It was an experience souvenir, you can’t take that !” She tried to reason despite knowing there was no point. “Well I’m sure Red Hood cooking dinner was you is beats refilling coffee for some drenched beaten up rat any day.”
Y/N’s eyes fell on the Red Hood’s batarang that was now pining the Map of Gotham to the clipboard instead of Red Robin’s batarang. It was similar in shape and size, resembling a bat's silhouette with pointed wings extending from a central handle. Except his batarang sported his signature red hue with black-rimmed edges. On closer inspection, Y/N noticed it had the words “Property Of Red Hood” scrawled on it in near illegible handwriting with a permanent marker.
“It’s already in your colours. What’s the point of writing your name on it ?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Because there are little shits that like to take my stuff without asking. So it’s a reminder that if they do, I will find them and after than no one else ever will.” He replied vaguely.
“Thugs ?”
“Worse. Siblings.”
“That sounds… tough,” Y/N remarked. She could only imagine what it would be like dealing with having vigilante siblings and the unique dynamics they have with each other. “You have no idea,” Jason replied in a wry tone. “But y’know ohana and all. Can’t get rid of them even if I wanted to.”
“Then what do you hold against the poor kid ?”
“Look it’s not that. Everyone thinks I hate him but I don’t,” Jason countered, pausing before continuing, “Okay maybe a teeny tiny bit but that’s beside the point. It’s just… it’s just I just hate him with you —”Jason caught himself before ending up saying anything that would just come to bite him in the ass. Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction in realization before smiling. “Are you jealous ?”
“What ? No !” He swiftly shook his head, dismissing the suggestion despite the faint blush creeping up his neck,“ I’m not jealous. He’s just trouble and I don’t want him being near my —”He attempted to maintain his composure, but his defensive tone betrayed a hint of insecurity. Y/N titled her head, studying his body language carefully and asked,“Your what ?”
“My – my person.” Jason finished softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, uncertain about his choice of words. His heart racing as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings not wanting giving too much away nor did he want to invite misunderstandings by using the term ‘friend.’
Y/N let out a small chuckle,“ What ? So just because I work for you means I can’t interact with any of your sibling ?”
Jason raised his head in alarm,“ That’s not what I meant !” He clarified hurriedly. Oh ?
“Then what did you mean ? Hmm ?” Y/N inched closer to him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. It had been exactly five days since he had kissed her, kissed her with insatiable hunger as if he intended to swallow her whole. Glancing down, she noticed his hand clenched around the material of his pants so tightly she feared he might tear a hole into them. Slowly, she trailed her hand up his arm, offering her sweetest smile. She felt his muscles tense under her touch, as though he was fighting - resisting. Y/N knew that teasing him might as well be biting off more than she could chew but Y/N 'life is all about taking risks and new experiences' L/N was willing to bet on her luck.
“The pasta is getting cold. You should —,”Jason's throat tightened as Y/N’s hand reached his shoulder, he couldn’t help but shiver slightly — his resolve wavering under her touch. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but her closeness was making it increasingly difficult to think straight. He watched as she looked right at him and then lowered her gaze to the part of his mask where his lips would be for a split second and then flit back to his eyes with a teasing mirth dancing in her eyes. Fuck. This woman is driving me crazy.
“— e-eat it before it gets cold,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As a part of training, Bruce had taught all the Robins the psychology of seduction so that they could identify it and evade it and as of now, every fibre of his being screamed warnings. Her actions were daring, albeit innocent. But they weren't even half as blatant or polished as the seasoned honeytrappers and seductresses he had encountered, but they still stirred something so primal deep within him, tempting him to abandon caution. The part of his arm her fingertips grazed felt like it was on fire. No scratch that he had experienced what it was to have his skin on fire. This was exponentially worse.
Ever since Y/N re-entered his life, Jason Peter Todd was experiencing what one would call selective erectile dysfunction. Consumed by thoughts of Y/N, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. So a few weeks back, he sought to blow off some steam and divert his mind from the thoughts of Y/N overwhelming his system. Jason considered himself fairly easy to satisfy since all his encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.
However much to his bafflement, his dick refused to react to anything for the past few days and embarrassingly so. There were plenty of flavours to choose from at the iceberg lounge but instead Jason jr. decided to give on the silent treatment instead. It was being a dick, literally. After the whole Lazarus pit shebang, whatever toxic shit he got tossed into as a part of some supervillain’s dastardly schemes, prescription meds he got talked into taking for quote unquote “mental health” — He was no stranger to bodily side effects but this was completely different.
This whole thing reached its height when Jason jr. refused to entertain the advances of a perfectly attractive busty blonde despite the fact that it was dying from sexual frustration and Jason was so ready to get over it. Under normal circumstances, it would be up and ready for action however it decided to stay completely and utterly indifferent — bored even. Effectively forcing Jason into non-consensual celibacy.
The only time it did react in his time at the iceberg lounge was when a model who had conspicuously similar hair colour and face shape to Y/N approached him with flirtation in her eyes. Jason jr. almost got hard, key word almost, when it made the important distinction that she was not Y/N and absolutely didn’t want her lips wandering anywhere his frustrating self. And by selective, he meant that Jason jr. developed a will of his own and turned into one of those overly enthusiastic parents cheering for their kids at school plays, not that Jason had experienced it personally, but that’s besides the point. The point being it would tent up and twitch uncontrollably begging for attention the second he sensed Y/N L/N’s presence in a mile’s distance. At the peak of his condition, Jason couldn’t so much as glance at a surface without his brain conjuring obscene images of how she would look pressed down against it, writhing and moaning his name.
As an avid reader, Jason was something of a hopeless romantic man and he knew that a couple’s first time was an important milestone in their relationship and could most definitely not be done on a whim. He had it all planned out, scented candles, silk sheets and all. It had to be special — touching, sweet, loving and most definitely not some lust-fueled spur of the moment thing his dick was pushing for right now. So there wasn’t much he could do, except sit in abject misery and hope to weather through the storm.
Okay, Jason. You survived being blown up by the joker. This is just another challenge. Focus on something else. Jason motivated himself with his voice of reason sounding suspiciously a lot like Nightwing and took a deep breath.
His eyes wandered till they found their way back to Y/N. She was wearing one of her typical sundresses with pastel floral patterns adorning it with a navy blue cardigan draped around her shoulders and the golden necklace resting on her neck. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with loose strands framing her face.
Based on what he had observed she seemed to have a penchant for sundresses, which Jason believed complemented her overall personality quite well. He often found himself mesmerized by the way the sundresses accentuated Y/N's features, the dress hugging her curves perfectly and the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. She almost looked like she had walked out of a cottage fairy tail. I bet I could shred it like tissue paper. Wait what ? Where did that come from ? Okay let’s try again. He turned his focus back to her. Most of her makeup had worn off from the day’s work, except for the eyeliner and the faintly sparkling light pink lip gloss on her lips, which seemed to have been touched up a few times. I wonder what she would look like on her knees, with her lips wrapped around my cock and that pretty mascara running down her cheeks.
Jason shot a glare at his pants. "Can you please shut up for just two goddamn seconds ? I'm trying to be respectful here," he muttered under his breath, hoping for a moment of peace. At this rate he contemplated the need for an exorcist to exorcise these insistent demons out of his system. He glanced up to find Y/N watching him. "Did you say something?" she asked but he simply shook his head in denial. Though she appeared skeptical, she chose not to press further. Moving to the cabinet, she requested, “Could you please grab the glasses? They’re in the third cabinet on the left,” while she fetched plates for serving and set them on the table. Jason obliged, retrieving the glasses, and as he placed them on the table, his hand inadvertently brushed against hers. Y/N glanced at him and flashed a gentle smile.
He could swear he felt his dick twitch. What are you some sort of pitiful depraved virgin ? Get your shit together. This is downright embarrassing. He scoffed at himself. Amid his current inner turmoil, he had become hyper aware of Y/N’s every micro movement from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to adjusting her ponytail or stooping to retrieve a fallen fork. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bend down causing hemline of her dress to lift up, revealing a scene that would surely haunt him on his nights alone. No no no dont even- think of the lord Jason. What would Alfred say ?
Our Father who arth in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.
“Mmmh this is so good !” Y/N moaned in delight as she took the first bite, her eyes widen in amazement, savoring the flavour dancing on their taste buds. Jason felt his throat dry up. Oh of course, she just had to make that sound. The universe was really against him today, more so than usual. With two dicks talking to him, he just had to figure out which one to listen to.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our — wait how did that go again ?
Despite Jason's best efforts to maintain composure, Y/N's every movement seemed to unravel his resolve further. As she savored each bite, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way her lips formed around the fork, her eyes alight with pleasure. With each passing moment, his internal struggle intensified, torn between the desire to avert his gaze and this magnetic force of a woman. Her presence seemed to envelop him, every sound she made echoing in his mind, her every gesture etched into his memory. How could he resist the temptation when she was right there, so effortlessly bewitching ?
Y/N placed her hand on his and he pulled away instinctively, the smile on her face faltered but she didn’t say anything. Jason made a mental note to bash his head into a wall hard later for hurting her feelings but as of now he was in no position of making any sort physical contact with her. “Won’t you be eating ?” she asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I don’t eat before patrol,” he replied, his response came out colder than he had intended it to be. “It’s best to patrol on an empty stomach because it’s not exactly pleasant.”
“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his icy response, but she nodded, accepting his explanation. His words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N bit her lip, her gaze flickering between him and the plate of pasta. Feeling a pang of guilt, he tried to ease the atmosphere, though his attempt felt feeble. "But maybe I'll grab something later," he added, a touch of forced warmth in his tone.
“This is really good, you know. You should tell me the recipe sometime,” she suggested. "Nah, I can whip it up for you whenever you want," he replied nonchalantly. Y/N blinked in surprise. "No, I couldn't possibly—"
"Yes, you can," he insisted, pointing at her necklace. It had been over two months since she started wearing it, and thankfully, she hadn't needed to use its emergency SOS feature. Her thumb traced the disk-shaped pendant of the necklace. “Whatcha smiling about ?” Jason asked. “No nothing,”she replied, shaking her head. Not believing her, Jason tilted his head and urged her to continue. “Fine. So, in this K-drama I watched a while back, the female lead had a powerful mythical creature protecting her like sort of a guardian angel, and she could summon him whenever she lit a match. It just reminded me of that.”
“What creature ?” He asked with intrigue. Jason had always been more inclined to reading rather than watching in nature so he didn’t really have much experience with k-dramas but seeing how interested she was, he was more than willing to give it a go.
“A goblin.”she answered taking another bite of the pasta. “I’m not sure how I ought to take that —” Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation because she knew that goblins in western media were depicted as short ugly green monsters with horrible attitudes. “Oh no no ! Not like the DND ones. Korean ones ! He was really hot,” she clarified frantically. Jason chuckled,“Well then I guess I’ll humbly accept the compliment.”
"Maybe we could watch the show together next time we hang out you know," she suggested shyly, not wanting to appear too upfront with her invitation. A small smile played onto Jason’s lips, every single romance novel he had ever read had prepared him for this moment. He had often wondered what it would feel like to experience such a situation. Sure, they had watched random shows like ‘The real housewives of Beverly Hills’ and ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before, but this invitation felt different, more deliberate. She specifically asked for this. This wasn’t just ‘got nothing to do so let’s just turn on the tv’ kinda hangout, this was special. Jason's heart skipped a beat as he considered her invitation. The subtle nervousness in her voice only added to the charm of the moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to create this perfect opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level.
"Yeah, that sounds great," he replied, his voice betraying a touch of eagerness despite his attempt to appear casual. Deep down, he knew that this was a significant step in their relationship. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m leaving Gotham,” he added with a sad sigh, remembering the reason he had come to see her in the first place.
“What? Why?” His sudden announcement caught Y/N off guard. Did something bad happen ? “Sorry angel, it’s confidential,” he replied briskly. It was in her best interest to keep her as uninvolved in his world as possible, knowing the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with a civilian.
As they sat in uneasy silence, Jason couldn't shake the weight of his own discomfort. He knew he had been too harsh with his response, but the walls he had built around himself were hard to break down, even with someone as kind-hearted as Y/N. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes.
Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she could sense Jason’s reluctance to divulge further. She bit her lip, grappling with a mix of concern and frustration.
“Red did something happen ?” she implored, her voice tinged with worry. “Is it something dangerous? Are you in trouble?”
Jason met her gaze, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness. He hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in her and his commitment to keeping her safe. “It’s just a mission. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much,” he admitted, feeling a sense of regret. “But trust me, it’s better this way. I don’t want you getting mixed up in my business.” Of course it made sense. He didn’t owe her an explanation, knowing there were lines she shouldn’t cross was one of them. This was a world of vigilantes and villains and as a civilian she couldn’t possibly fathom the complexities of his profession.
Y/N reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.“You’ll be back right ?”
“Wouldn’t have given you that necklace if I wasn’t going around for my angel. It might take a couple months, maybe three or four. I don’t know. But I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued,“ And still if you get into trouble, you can still use that necklace. I called in a favour from nightwing and orphan.”
“So what did you ask them to exactly ? They get an alert and they’re to drop everything they’re doing and come save me ?” Y/N asked jokingly.
“Well yeah. You get hurt while I’m gone and they’ll end up as fish food in the Gotham Harbour. Y’know they're like my insurance policy for you," he added. "But hopefully, you won't need to cash it in. Just stay safe and out of trouble until I get back."
Y/N nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll do my best. But you know all that aside, cooking a girl dinner and introducing her to your family, and here I thought we were taking it slow.” Jason paused, caught off guard by her comment. Was that how it appeared ? Her playful expression suggested she was merely teasing him, but what if she was genuinely reciprocating flirtation ?
“You’re a really cruel woman you know angel.”Y/N leaned forward on the table and folded her arms infront of her subconsciously pushing her breasts forward, a coy pout forming on her lips ,“Why do you say that ?” She was fully aware of her effect on him, wasn’t she ?
Jason chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and admiration,“No need to worry your pretty head with that.” With a quick flick of his finger, he lightly tapped her forehead, a playful retaliation for her teasing. She let out a surprised yelp, rubbing her forehead in mock indignation.
“I should get going before Starfire and Arsenal lose their shit thinking I’ve gone MIA. Again.” He said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. Y/N too got up and kept the dishes in the sink. Jason turned to leave from the fire exit but he felt Y/N hold his jacket. “Be careful out there Red.” She smiled softly at him and Jason could feel his heart melt into a puddle. “Can’t promise but I will try.” His words came out with softness he didn’t know he possessed, he squeezed her hand gently before reluctantly letting go. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the fire exit.
Outside, Jason took a deep breath, the cool night air soothing his nerves. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows. As he moved through the darkness, he couldn't help but replay their interaction in his mind. Her soft smile, the way she held onto his jacket, and the genuine concern in her voice lingered in his thoughts.
Pushing aside his thoughts, Jason focused on the task at hand. He moved swiftly through the alleyways, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The city whispered its secrets to him, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume it. The weight of his responsibilities as Red Hood pressed upon him, reminding him of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Gotham City.
Yet, in that fleeting moment with Y/N, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a very long time.
A/n: Jason Todd live reaction
Ngl I was in a very silly goofy mood when I wrote this.
Tags : @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03
#batfam#red hood x y/n#red hood x reader#red hood#red hood x you#jason todd x y/n#yandere jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd#jason todd x you#dc#dc smut#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#batman#batboys#dc fluff#red hood fluff#jason todd fluff#red hood smut#jason todd smut
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DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 5
There were two new arrivals to the dining room. Both with black hair but one of them had an odd white stripe, the stripe reminded him of his hair in ghost form.
The one without the stripe sat next to Tim and the other one sat next to Danny.
“You weren’t kidding when you said they looked identical,” the guy without the stripe said, “Names Richard Greyson, but you can call me Dick”
Dick had a bright smile on his face, it was clear he was a morning person.
Damian made another ‘Tt’ noise at his introduction.
The guy with the stripe in his hair grunted in agreement before holding out a coffee mug for Alfred, who was already standing next to him ready to pour. He took a swig before speaking, “Names Jason, you may look alike but seeing Damian eat meat, even from an alternate universe is weird.”
Danny took a bite of his bacon and swallowed like he was making a point before speaking, “I go by Danny, I faked my death years ago, as far as I’m concerned we were all strangers in my world.” He started, he took a moment to think about exactly how’d he explain everything. He knew it wasn’t exactly a pretty story but he also knew from the stories Talia told him when he was younger that Bruce was all about planning ahead, so keeping information from him might not be the best way to go about all of this.
He took another bite and swallowed before speaking again, “My foster family is fine though, I have a roof over my head and food. They spend most of their time in their lab working. They study Ectology, or the study of ghosts.” Jason raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything. Danny continued, “They actually succeeded in building a portal to their realm, the realm of ghosts, or Infinite Realm as we call it.”
“We? You say that like you're one of the ghosts” Tim asked laughing a little bit.
He quickly got silent when Danny wasn’t laughing with him.
Damian made another ‘Tt’ noise before speaking, “Clearly this imposter has lost it, ghosts don’t exist and all of this nonsense is just that nonsense.” He glared at Danny.
Danny smiled at him and it caused Damian to falter a little before he glared at Danny again.
“Yes, Ghosts are real,” Danny sighed before continuing, “Trust me, it sounds crazy but I’ve seen some crazy things in my world. Although now I’m wondering if just showing you guys would be easier… Alright I’ll show you all but know that no one except my sister knows. Secret identity and all.”
“Wait,” Dick interrupted, “Does Robin not exist in your world?”
“Robin existed but there hasn’t been a Robin since Joker murdered the last one.” Danny answered.
Everyone fell silent at that and the atmosphere got heavy. Everyone, especially Jason was giving each other knowing glances.
Danny cleared his throat before continuing, “Anyways, yes ghosts exist, unfortunately the portal in this world probably doesn’t work like my own world. It’s been about a year since I turned it on and since I was here in Gotham when they tried it in this world there’s no telling what they did after it didn’t work. Actually now that I think about it, I wonder if they exist here,” he thought about the GIW in his world and it occurred to him. If ghosts weren’t running rampant in Amity Park, they probably didn’t exist here.
He brought out his phone from his pocket and looked it up. His eyes lit up a bit at the information he found. Or more accurately the information he didn’t find. Searching GIW in this world brought zero results, so great he wouldn’t be hunted for existing here.
He let out a sigh of relief at this. He turned to everyone and they were watching him closely. He gave them a small smile, “It’s been a while since I had a moment where I didn’t have to worry about being hunted for existing.” He explained. He figured he might as well get the conversation out of the way no matter how difficult it was.
Everyone at the table was silent as they waited for him to continue. The tension was thick in the air however, you could tell that even though Danny had just arrived everyone was ready to jump to defend him, even if he wasn’t their Damian he was still part of the family even if he had just arrived into their lives. It cemented Danny’s determination to tell them the truth.
He took a deep breath and then spoke again, “The portal didn’t work at first when they tried it, I of course wanted to help so when they were away I went in to see if I could figure out the problem… Long story short, it helps to build the on switch on the outside of the portal. I’m not proud to admit that even with all of my training, there were just too many cords that even I tripped.” He didn’t have to say much else about that as their faces told him they understood what happened. He gave a dark chuckle and continued, “Yeah hurt like hell but I don’t have to worry about losing anything anymore.” He then took his phone and phased it into his chest.
The room went silent again for a moment, but it was broken by Jason who started cackling.
He wheezed for a moment before he got out, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t ready for not Damian to make a fucking pun!”
Meanwhile everyone else was still too stunned to speak. Finally Damian surprisingly spoke, “What else can you do?”
Danny smiled, this was going to be fun.
Master Post:
Last:
#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny fenton#danny phantom#ghost prince danny#danny and damian are the same person#my asks are open#all my prompts are free to use#Even if I write these parts if you want it to go different your welcome to write your own fic#My goal with these is to spread creativity#as is my purpose on this earth
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The figure turned to look at Damian and seemed to freeze before its form shifted, rings of light covering it as it did. When the rings faded, there they floated with white hair that moved like it was uneffected by gravity and was moved by wind that wasn’t there. Freckles that looked like stars covered the beings skin, tanned but washed out and ashen, like a corpse. Wide, expressionless eyes that glowed a bright eeire green. Despite this, Damian recognized that face. He recognized that expression too. Despite looking like Tim’s dead eyed stare to most anyone else, Damian knew the expression as one of surprise, of shock. And that face was almost identical to the one in his nightmares of the worst day of his life. He knew that face every time he glanced in a mirror.
“Danyal” he said softly, his own face almost certainly in an identical expression. Despite the distance and chaos between them, Damian was certain Danyal heard him, as Danyal perked up a bit. Then, his form seemed to glitch, colors distorting as his body twitched and part of his body seemed to disappear for a moment. Then, he seemed to fade into nothing, leaving Damian to start panicking. He worried that he had just lost Danyal again.
Then he reappeared startlingly close, putting his hand on Damian’s chest “Here,” he said, the difference in how he spoke compared to Damian achingly familiar, “A drop of your blood and an offering of food if you’re feeling nice. Call my name, it may take a moment but I will appear” he removed his hand, and a piece of neon green glowing paper with strange symbols on it floated after Danyal’s hand before Damian caught it. Danyal’s form glitched again, harder, and his face set in a grimace before he faded into invisibility again.
Fun fact! Sometimes when the grief got bad enough, Damian would mimic how Danny talked and would recite stories about constellations like Danny did. He took many, many precautions to make sure that no one, not even Talia knows that he’s done this. Only Alfred the cat and maybe Alfred the Human knows, and neither will speak a word to anyone about it.
#I’m so scared of this getting popular#I am a lurker and this is my first personal writing offering to the screaming void#If too many eyes are on me I may startle and disappear into the underbrush#dpxdc#demon twins#demon twins au#it has me by the throat#just a little shred of the loving chaos in my mind#I’m so sorry I don’t have much else to give for this au rn#if people want I can make a post explaining the context for this
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hi um so this is like my first time making a request, like ever. I’m not even sure if this is where I’m supposed to put a request. So I’m really nervous but this idea has been in my head for weeks and I need it to be brought to life? Idk but can I request Matt Murdock with a sort of shy reader? Where he tells her about his abilities and daredevil and everything (established relationship) and she doesn’t really care as long as he’s safe but she has something in her mind and he notices and keeps asking and basically she has a question about his senses, specifically his taste and idk if you know but Matt can canonically know ALL of the ingredients of anything just from a taste and she basically wants to make him taste a bunch of stuff and tell her the ingredients of it so she can make them? I know this is probably WAY too specific so feel free to completely ignore this, I just wanted to get it out.
hi my darling!
so I actually read this request right before going to the grocery store, and while I was looking through produce, it made me think about how matt would absolutely know which produce was the freshest and which ones to avoid. I kinda mixed that in with your idea about being able to tell exactly what ingredients were in something, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for! <3
warnings: tooth rotting fluff and matt being a lil shit
word count: 1.3k
lemons.
“Not that one.”
You hand instantly stilled over a lemon that your fingertips had already grazed over. Glancing at Matt over your shoulder, a crease formed between your brows while you looked back down at it.
“What do you mean? This one is perfect-”
“It’s not ripe enough.”
“But…it’s so yellow, like sunshine yellow.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Matt’s lips when he felt the way your own pursed into a bit of a confused pout. It was something you always did when you were intensely focused on something, and he found it endearing. Reaching his hand out, he used the pad of his thumb to smooth away the furrow that had creased in the middle of your forehead, and his soft smile curled up into a light smirk catching the flush of heat that immediately coursed through the tops of your cheeks.
“Well, I’m sure it’s a very pretty lemon, but it doesn’t taste ripe.”
Ever since Matt had told you the truth about his vigilante identity and his abilities, you’d had countless questions. You wouldn’t voice them at first, almost as if you were afraid to cross some invisible boundary that Matt might have, but he knew you, and he knew how to dismantle that shy exterior of yours. From the moment the two of you first met, you had been overly polite and accommodating about his disability, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. You didn’t walk on eggshells around him or call any extra attention to his blindness. In fact, the way you interacted with him was so seamless, it was almost like it came second nature.
If you guys were grabbing coffee with Karen and Foggy, you would automatically place the raw sugar packets within his reach because you knew he preferred it to the artificial sweeteners. If the four of you went to check out a new lunch spot, you always called ahead to check if they had a menu in braille and made sure Matt was given one. There were so many little things you did to make him feel included and normal. It was part of why he fell so hard for you.
You never asked about the origin of his blindness, and even after he opened up and told you about his accident, you were reserved with your questions. He could tell you were curious, and he wanted you to ask. He wanted you to know things about him. You were a bit of a wallflower, and Matt could always feel you silently observing him, but he wanted you to understand him. He quickly realized he would have to flat out grant you permission to be nosey, and so he did.
Out of everyone he had revealed his Daredevil secret to, you had taken it the best. He didn’t know if he would ever get over the surprise of just how well you handled it. You didn’t get angry or yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar or a traitor, or ask him if he was faking his blindness; all reactions he expected. You just sat there in pure confusion, and you were silent for so long, Matt was panicked that he’d sent you into a state of shock. When it finally settled in that it wasn’t a joke, your brows knit together, and Matt could feel the way your face contorted into an expression of irritation when you flat out asked him if he was crazy. The memory of that night never failed to make him smile.
“Um…well, I mean…not in the traditional sense-”
“Matthew, what the hell are you thinking running around on rooftops, going after guys with guns and knives with…sticks? How do you even do that?”
“They’re batons, actually. Look it’s hard to explain, but I have heightened senses that help me-”
“Are those super senses going to keep you out of prison? Because that’s where you’re going if you get caught. What was the point of going hundreds of thousands of dollars into debt for law school if you were just going to wind up a prison cell for doing backflips off buildings in your underwear?”
“Heightened senses. And it’s not underwear. Underwear is comfortable.”
There hadn’t been a hint of anger in your voice. Annoyance, sure, but mainly concern. All you wanted was for Matt to be safe, and he did his best to assure you that he would be. Matt went into as much detail as he could to help you understand his abilities, and the more comfortable you got with asking him things, the more you learned.
Like how he could tell exactly what ingredients were in the lemon bread at the cafe down the street from your apartment that you loved so much, which was currently the reason behind your little trip to the store at the moment. All it took was one bite of the bread, and he knew exactly how to replicate it.
Apparently he could also tell when lemons were at their peak.
Reaching into the pile of lemons, Matt grasped the one that was in perfect condition to him and held it out towards you. Taking the lemon in your hand, you gave it a light squeeze, noticing that it was firm to the touch but easily gave into the gentle force of your fingers testing its density.
“Feel the rind.”
Following Matt’s instructions, you brushed your thumb along the bright yellow rind. It was smooth to the touch, and somewhat glossy as it nearly reflected the brightness of the overhead lighting in the grocery store.
“It’s shiny.”
Matt chuckled at your response and lightly nodded his chin in your direction.
“What else?”
“It’s smooth.”
“It’s perfectly ripe. The zest on this one is the freshest. It has the most flavor, and the right amount of juice.”
Arching one of your brows, you stared up at Matt curiously while still faintly squeezing the lemon in your hand.
“You can tell how much juice is in this just by touching it?”
A grin stretched across Matt’s lips, showcasing his dazzling teeth and causing indents to appear in his cheeks. His thick brows rose slightly above the rim of his crimson glasses.
“Are you doubting me, sweetheart?”
“No I’m just…still trying to figure out how you do…what you do.”
A bashful twinge of heat coated your cheeks once again, and Matt thought it was adorable that you diverted your attention back to the lemon shyly to avoid his gaze even though he couldn’t see your reaction. He reached out to tenderly brush his knuckles along the warmth in your cheeks while he smiled in your direction.
“I’ll try to do better at explaining. Now c’mon, we have more ingredients to get. You know, I think this bread is gonna turn out so well, the one at the cafe might not meet your standards anymore.”
The confidence in Matt’s voice caught your attention, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Sometimes you forgot that your boyfriend was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that everyone was so afraid of. If only they knew that he spent his Saturdays sniffing out ingredients at the grocery store like a bloodhound to help his girlfriend recreate the recipe for her favorite lemon bread.
“You know, if you didn’t love law so much, you could’ve made out like a bandit in a baking competition.”
“Oh I would’ve won with my sob story of being a blind little Catholic orphan alone.”
“Matthew!”
Matt snickered at the disbelief in your tone, but he could also detect the way the edges of your lips twitched, like you weren’t sure if you should laugh at that or not. Snaking his arm around your waist, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead and gently nudged you in the direction towards the spice aisle.
“Come on, we need flour.”
tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts
#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x f!reader#matt murdock fic#matt murdock request#daredevil#daredevil fic#daredevil request
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teenage chuuya and dazai who accidentally developed quite a couple of inside jokes over the course of their partnership, and one day just have the most horrid case of giggles while on a mission.
the setting is all intense and they’re doing what double black usually does—dazai being the brains and chuuya mainly being the one kicking ass. but then something happens that triggers one of chuuya and dazai’s inside jokes in dazai’s mind and he slowly starts to lose it.
he whispers it to chuuya as they’re setting up their trap, who at first hisses at him to shut up and focus up, but then the joke processes in his mind and he involuntarily starts to smile and tremble.
dazai brings up the joke again in combat as he knocks out one of the men he’s fighting, close to hysterics over it even though it’s probably one of the most unfunny and nonsensical jokes they have. he’s hunched over and his body is shaking, and another enemy uses his moment of vulnerability to go and strike him from behind. chuuya quickly takes the enemy out. he screams at dazai to focus up yet again.
but the louder dazai’s laughter gets, the harder it is for chuuya to suppress his own. his face slowly starts to turn red, not from the physical activity, but from how fucking stupid the joke is and how that’s exactly why chuuya is on the verge of going ballistic over it like dazai.
they’re both out of breath by the time they finish fighting, a couple of new scars littered on their skin, bruises already forming on their knees from the particularly gruelling mission, and dazai brings up the joke one final time in a hushed voice, covered in grime and blood and ick, chest heaving. and chuuya, who looks identical, practically shouts in laughter, sending them into a full blown fit that has them clutching their chests and stomachs. they stumble forward and backward and inhale sharply only to immediately burst out laughing again when they look at each others faces, which read the inside joke they’re both thinking. they don’t account the moment in their mission report, but hirotsu certainly does in his.
#They’re so goofy and dumb and GOOOOODDKDNSNSS#They’re dumb teenagers and they do dumb teen stuff i know it#and they just look like kids. Cause that’s what they are#Teen skk you are my VERYRHING i’m holding you so close to my chest#skk#double black#soukoku#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#chuuya nakahara#osamu dazai#bsd headcanons
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 23
Au where Danny hides his powers and eldrich nature from his husband Tim and Tim hides his vigilante career from Danny.
Both are very successful and neither suspects a thing. Tim had originally planned to admit to being a hero at some point but they were always either interrupted or it just wasn't the right time and then Danny had mentioned a few times during thier engagement and marriage that he couldn't handle being with a superhero or vigilante and that it was a deal breaker. Unfortunately Tim was already deeply in love and couldn't bare to break up with him so now he lives in fear of Danny finding out and blackmailed the rest of the family into never letting it slip.
Danny is in a similar situation, ever since the portal incident people were afraid of his other half and no matter how hard he tried they always ended up hating him. He loved Tim and couldn't bare the thought of his husband having that same look of terror. Of hate. So he hid. Its all he could do. Back when he and his friends went on that road trip and gained the power of the reality gauntlet he had tried to undo his undeath entirely only to find out Danny had glitches spacetime enough that even if he undid it (which the gauntlet was incapable of doing) he would eventually wind up with the portal opening up on top of him at another date. Call it fate or destiny or whatever you like. He was stuck like this.
So he did the next best thing. He erased any proof he had ever existed. Even from the minds of his own friends. He then skipped town-or in this case universes- and used the gauntlets power to carve out a false identity in this new world full of heroes and hope
Luckly there was no one who could rat him out...until some blond guy in a trenchcoat started following him around the grocery store and talking to him. At first Danny was a little confused and annoyed but when he asked what the blond guy wanted he asked, "I wanna know what you are." And Danny went pale.
Constantine then proceeded to blackmail Danny into helping him with a case or else he would expose his dirty little secret to Tim.
Danny made the a deal, ensuring that it would only be this one time. He told Tim that he was being blackmailed but insinuated that it was something petty between him and some of the other high society house spouses. The kind of drama that Tim always made extra sure to steer clear of. He swore to Tim he was this close to spiking Bethanys muffins with a laxative in retaliation for something and Tim gave helper suggestions for how to do it without being caught while they got ready for the day.
Ever since Alfred passed away it was up to Danny and a few other people to keep the Waynes from falling apart. Honestly, no one realized how much that man did until he wasn't around anymore.
To be fair he pretty much spoiled Tim by picking up after him to the point the man can't function after a few days. If Danny ever had to leave Tim alone for prolonged periods of time he would return to a giant mess and something burning in the kitchen.
Danny would clean, Tim would spew a fountains worth of apologizes, he would forgive Tim (as if he was ever mad in the first place. This just reaffirmed that Tim needed him to protect and care for him, making his core vibrate in happiness) then they would...reacquaint themselves. He nearly shifted forms the first few times this happened. That would be one heck of a way for Tim to find out about his ghost half.
Danny smiled, thinking about those memories. He truly adored Tim and couldn't imagine a life without him. He would just have to make sure this trench coated guy never came anywhere near his precious husband.
John would really like to know what this entity was and what it wanted with the Wayne brat. It couldn't really be in love with the kid, could it? He had personally seen these relationships work out before but there many more he had seen that hadn't. He didn't want to take that risk, so he needed to get close enough to evaluate the situation himelf.
#halloween prompts#dpxdc#prompts#danny fenton#danny phantom#fanfiction prompts#tim drake#brain dead#dead tired#red robin#yum#red robin dc#danny phantom x red robin#married brain dead#married dead tired#does Constantine know that the wayne are the bats in this? you decide#Constantine may have flirted with Danny at some point but danny shut that down fast. He was a monster but not a cheater.#Danny refuses to betray Tim
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Waytelem
Neteyam x Reader
word count: 1k
Summary: Tradition with Neteyam
A/N:
"Individuals create a songcord that is used as a tactile representation of their own personal or family. Na'vi create their own song cords and expand on them continuously, adding a new item to the cord for any significant life event that occurs."
"Traditionally, once a Na'vi male has passed the tests on the path to manhood and has been accepted into the clan as an adult, he is not only allowed to make his bow from the wood of the Hometree, but he is also expected to choose his woman."
Two blue feet glued to the wooden branch below you, focused on keeping balance, you strolled ahead under the shadow of greenery. Rays of sunshine pooled beneath you, serenity chirping around, causing your ears to flutter.
Stopping at almost every step, you lovingly caressed the manifestations of the Great Mother. From sensitive to the touch, peach colored mushrooms to hanging azure vines. Every breath you took was synchronized with the forest.
Happiness was simple.
As all things seemed in tune, a particularly annoying tail kept disturbing your peace. Finding the joy in tickling your nose and poking whichever eye it chose. Having enough of it, you swiftly seized it between your grasp and tugged on it.
“Neteyam, you säsrätx!”
The boy fastened his pace and collected his tail back with a toothy smile.
“Ikniyama is close, this should not even phase you.” The young na’vi snickered.
“That was your last breath, skxawng.” You evilly laughed and began to chase him, pinching the back of his legs whenever you could.
Both of you quickly climbed up the trunk of a particularly large tree. Ascending to a naturally formed platform, secluded from the eye. Neteyam was first to sit down, carefully putting his bow and arrows beside him.
You followed, going by his side, slapping his cheek with your tail. Proudly sitting down with your legs crossed, you expected a reaction - and none was received. Instead, he remained seated in front of you, a smug smile painting the lower half of his face. Not even looking at you, he busied himself with detaching his songcord from his waist cloths.
You mirrored his actions, getting yours out.
“You know, this is unacceptable behavior from the future Olo’уektan.” An emotionless statement from you, which purpose was to get under his skin.
Finally meeting your gaze, Neteyam laid his songcord on the ground.
“And this is the behavior expected from a child.” He said with a smile.
The boy did not mean for it to hurt, but it did. By the clan’s way he was an adult, having completed the rite of passage. And you - half a year younger and still a kid. Being born again, it scared you. The uncertainty never left your weary shoulders. But it was close, you could do it. Conclude it and become a functioning member of the clan.
Neteyam’s soft nature immediately noted your silence.
“You know I did not mean it.” The boy worryingly said while reaching out to caress your hand.
Meeting his copper eyes, you let your face fall down.
“I will wait for you.” He matter of factly reassured your downcast frame.
I will wait for you, he said, of its true meaning you pondered.
Would he wait for you?
Both of your lives were intertwined from small children, you had always known him. Seeing him grow from Neteyam the Mighty Fisherman to Neteyam the Fierce Warrior. The youthful adoration was now a clumsy teenage love, but none of you dared to say a word. Ever since you could remember you had always done everything together. it was natural, you just always lingered by his side and he by yours. it was funny actually, right now was one of those moments.
it was a tradition to weave your songcords together, if you had a closer look at them you would see they were almost identical.
His last words had your cheeks become a deep shade of purple now, ears back, you squeezed his hand.
“Do not speak of such things, Nete.” Your tone low from embarrassment.
His hand from yours went up to your nose to flick it so you could look him in the eye, missing your usual demeanor.
“Whatever you wish, yawne.” The young na’vi went back to fiddling with his songcord.
“Neteyam!”
You spent the next hour twining a fragment of an ikran’s tooth between the string. From when Neteyam claimed his own ikran and as it was your first time climbing the Hallelujah mountains.
With Neteyam’s help you crushed it to smaller bits, so it could be easily woven into the cord.
The time shared together was mostly spent in singing personal songs, only for your closest to hear. It served as an escape from the daily chores of life, hidden from parents and siblings.
“I think i’m done.” Neteyam broke the silence first.
You grabbed his hand and pulled for closer inspection, catching the boy by surprise. It was now your turn to make him nervous.
A shy expression and a tight line forming on his mouth, he intently looked and waited for an answer.
“It’s beautiful, Nete.” You flashed a toothy grin, fangs poking out.
“Thank you.” His expression made your stomach turn, this boy would be the death of you.
Neteyam retracted his palm and pulled out petals from a sun lily. His hand unsurely remained in front of him, scared to proceed. You curiously gazed at the boy, irises enlarging and tail nervously swatting.
“Come closer.” He sweetly commanded, closing the space between you.
For the first time ever, you silently obliged, standing on your four limbs, you waited. Something was different this time, the air was heavy, you dared not ruin it.
Neteyam carefully put the flower petals behind your ear, making your breath hitch. He pulled back, remaining a few inches from your face, noses almost touching. None of you moved, intently looking into the other’s eyes. You could see the light reflecting in his tawny orbs.
He was beautiful.
The young na’vi slowly closed the space between your lips. The sweetness of the first kiss, gentle and loving. Scared of everything, both of you barely moved. You delicately pulled back, meeting his eyes and diving back in with a smile. This time more confident, Neteyam cupped your cheek, keeping you in place, growing eager by the second. You have no idea how long you had stayed like this.
And then you felt it.
A tickling sensation on top of your heads, both of you pulled back, carefully looking up to inspect.
A woodsprite gently hovered above you.
He will wait for you.
Na'vi translation:
waytelem - songcord
säsrätx - annoyance
iknimaya - the rite of passage for young Na'vi
skxawng - idiot
olo’eyktan - clan leader
yawne - beloved
#neteyam#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam fanfiction#neteyam x you#neteyam sully#neteyam avatar#neteyam x reader#avatar imagines#avatar 2
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Chemistry, History, and Shared Trauma
AO3 Link
The day Eddie’s released from the hospital, he’s packed up into Steve’s BMW and driven straight to the Harrington mansion.
The government agents are still in the process of doing the whole song-and-dance routine required to clear Eddie’s name, so laying low is ideal. There hasn’t been time to relocate Wayne to a new trailer–something Owen promises is happening, though Eddie will believe it when he sees it–and a hotel room isn’t really a great place to recover, especially considering the state Eddie finds himself in.
When the question of where exactly he was going to go had come up, Steve had volunteered all too quickly.
“You can stay with me,” he had said, easy as pie, like it was nothing. “My parents aren’t home, and, besides…it’s not like anybody’s going to be looking for you there.”
Though Eddie had tried to protest, quick to say that he didn’t want to put Steve out, his jock savior wouldn’t hear a word of it.
So, the next day, Steve had shown up to the hospital early, signed all the appropriate paperwork, and then wheeled Eddie out into the parking lot whistling some upbeat, poppy tune Eddie didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of recognizing–but still found oddly endearing, in spite of himself.
And that had been that, Steve hauling Eddie’s cane out for him under one arm and his bag of meds in the other once they pull up in front of the Harringtons’ house, ready to put Eddie up in the guest room next to his like he’d belonged there all along.
Eddie’s mobility is still pretty limited–hence the cane and the wheelchair now sitting in the Harrington’s den–but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bold (and stupid) enough to try to make his way up the stairs on his own.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve scolds, catching Eddie around the waist as he wavers on his feet a little, clearly being careful of the open wounds on his stomach and torso. “Hold on, just…hold on, man.”
“You got me, big boy?” Eddie teases.
The flirtatious call back is a diversion, an attempt to cover up the embarrassment of having to be this damn reliant on…well, literally everyone around him, but Steve in particular from here on out.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got you,” Steve says, tone nothing less than perfectly sincere.
Eddie deliberately ignores the way his stomach gives a little swoop in response.
So he leans on Steve heavily as they make their way to the next story of the house, close enough to get a faint whiff of Steve’s cologne, a surprisingly sweet mix of amber, vanilla, and something a little fruity tickling his nose. Once they’re finally inside, though, Eddie does manage to hold himself upright long enough for a quick look around, taking in the digs he’s going to be sleeping in.
The room itself is almost sterile in its cleanliness–neat military precious corners on the bed, devoid of the usual clutter Eddie associates with home. The blue floral pattern that covers the walls is bizarrely identical to the fabric of the curtains, the repetition almost comical, when he thinks about the uniformity of all the houses that line the street. It’s the kind of detail that would be called too ‘on the nose,’ if written into a book.
Eddie’s surprised to find a few exceptions to the cold tidiness, however, and even more surprised those exceptions come in the form of a stack of fantasy novels stashed inside the bedside table and a couple of action figures tossed in one corner.
Following his gaze, Steve turns from where he’s ‘tidying up’ what can only be an imaginary mess perceptible to the eyes of babysitting monster hunters and babysitting monster hunters alone, Eddie guesses. He gives Eddie a wry look.
“Dustin stays over sometimes,” he explains, “the other rugrats, too, but it’s still mostly his stuff that winds up here. Leaves his shit all over the place.”
There’s a fondness to Steve’s smile that undercuts the annoyance in his words.
Eddie thinks back to the months and months Dustin spent talking Steve up to him. How even then it never really occurred to him just how close they might be. It’s strange to think, now, that though Eddie’s spent nearly a whole school year as DM for Steve’s nerdy band of babysitting charges, their paths had rarely ever crossed, beyond glimpses and a handful of long forgotten words exchanged, before that nightmare of a Spring Break. Almost like their lives have been running in some kind of strange parallel, fated to collide, without either of them even noticing it.
Eddie’s not exactly sure how to phrase the feeling that comes over him at the thought, so instead he says, “I can’t believe we’re best friends with a fourteen year old, man.”
“God, tell me about it.”
Eddie takes a few stumbling steps forward and sits down on the bed, honestly a bit proud of himself he manages it with as much grace as he does. As he settles in, he catches sight of a small stack of photos splayed out on the bedside, sitting atop what looks to be a photo album.
Though it’s only a brief glimpse, the two visible pictures alone hint at the whole life story no doubt tucked away between glossy pages.
Theres’s Dustin, several years younger than he is now, in a suit shooting the camera his gummy smile and with a hairdo that looks suspiciously like Steve’s own. And a polaroid shows Robin sprawled out on the counter at Scoops Ahoy, company policy be damned and a book in her hand, Steve’s head just in frame as she flips off the camera.
While Steve fusses over him, fluffing his pillows and insisting he go get Eddie something to drink, Eddie can’t help but think he'd sorta like to hear it sometime–Steve Harrington’s life story. Be regaled with tales, from the photos and beyond, now that they’re here together, after the almost end of the world.
He hopes that, maybe, if he’s lucky, Steve will want to tell him some day.
---
The bloodcurdling scream wakes Steve.
He’s out of his room and down the hall in a flash, nail bat quickly snatched out of its hiding place underneath his bed with ease after years of practice.
Even with his heart racing, he’s quiet when he opens the guest bedroom door, not wanting to scare Eddie or alert…anything else that might be lurking inside.
“Eddie,” Steve calls out, whisper soft as he approaches the bed. When he repeats it, it’s a little harsher, more of a hiss, trying to get Eddie’s attention. “Eddie!”
As he draws closer, Steve can see that Eddie is sweating, large droplets visible where they’ve beaded on his forehead, and he’s writhing hard enough in the sheets Steve’s worried he’s going to pop a stitch if he doesn’t stop him soon.
There’s really only one option ahead Steve sees for himself.
So he gets a knee on the mattress and climbs into the bed, wrapping his arms around Eddie to still him. Even as he does it, Steve worries his bottom lip between his teeth, anxious Eddie might fight against the restriction and inadvertently make the situation worse.
But then huge brown eyes fly open, Eddie’s terror reflected plainly as he stares up at Steve.
“Jeez–Christ!” Eddie manages to get out, stuttered and slurred, cutting off when Steve makes a soft shushing sound.
“Hey, man,” Steve murmurs, trying to keep his tone soothing as he gives him a tentative smile, “it’s me. It’s just me. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
He brushes Eddie’s sweaty bangs back from his forehead, a gesture that would be too intimate in any other circumstances, and then just keeps trying to murmur reassuring shit to him, voice low and gentle.
“I’m here, Eds. I’m here.”
Eddie is shaking against him, but he isn’t squirming or trying to buck him off, which Steve takes as a good sign–as ideal, really, as Steve could hope for in this situation. One of Eddie’s hands comes up to run down his face, his curls shifting against the pillow as he shakes his head fervently.
“Shit, Harrington, I thought–I mean, what I saw–” he trails off, lip trembling.
“I get it, man. Trust me, I get it.”
Though Eddie had squeezed his eyes firmly shut through the come down, he blinks them open again, looking at Steve through the darkness.
“Yeah, uh. Guess you would, wouldn’t you? Probably better than anybody.”
Steve can only nod his agreement.
“I mean, not just me. All of us get them,” he whispers, compelled to say it quietly, as he’s not sure if that truth is a comfort or a burden. “The nightmares, you know? Nance, Dustin, Robin–me.”
“Well, can I just say, they truly and royally suck.”
“Yeah…can’t really argue with you there, man.”
Eddie seems to register, then, that Steve has curled his body around him. His steadily loosening posture goes stiff again, much to Steve’s disappointment, and his eyes dart over nervously to catch Steve’s as he sucks in his bottom lip.
“Fuck, I-I’m sorry, dude. I totally didn’t mean to wake you up with my–terror-filled screams.”
The smile he shoots Steve is self-deprecating, tentative.
Steve’s grip slackens, but he doesn’t pull away, still pressed against Eddie’s side.
“Hey,” Steve coaxed, “you don’t need to do that, Eds. Like I said, we all fucking get them. That’s what I’m here for, okay? I–just wanna help when I can.”
The quirk of Eddie’s lips looks more genuine, now, some of the tension draining away.
“You know, Harrington, it’s kinda annoying how much I know you mean that.”
“Better get used to it, Munson. Cuz I’m not going anywhere.”
Steve gives Eddie one final quick squeeze around his shoulders, wondering if the gesture somehow crosses the line of casual, friendly touch Steve has gotten used to doling out to Eddie since all the Upside Down shit started, the jocular back pats and hair ruffling he’d justified as just typical guy stuff.
With that thought firmly at the front of his mind, Steve pulls away, albeit reluctantly. That said, he really doesn’t want to go back immediately on his word by slinking off to his bedroom, abandoning Eddie to fight off whatever images linger alone in the dark.
Especially not when he hears the almost imperceptible noise Eddie lets out as he stands.
Steve eyes the floor speculatively, an idea already taking root in his head.
“Speaking of, why don’t I just–stay here tonight. Yeah?” he suggests, already tossing the pillow and throw from the chair in the corner on the ground, making himself a pallet.
Sure, it’s not the most comfortable sleeping position ever, but between chairs in the Wheelers’ basement and the cold, hard floor of a Russian elevator, Steve’s done a lot worse.
“C’mon, man–you don’t have to do that,” Eddie tries to protest.
Like Steve can’t clearly see how haggard he looks, peering down at Steve through the curtain of his hair, the end of one strand damp where he’s pulled it up to his mouth and chewed on it.
Steve waves him off. “It’s not a problem. I already told you, dude, Henderson stays over all the time–you think I’ve never had to have a floor sleepover when he was around? Get real.”
Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him.
“...Something tells me you’re not going anywhere even if I pull out my magnificent rhetorical skills from years of DMing and try to argue with you, huh?”
Steve thinks that really Eddie’s just proved his point, the fact that, since Steve mentioned staying, he’s recovered himself enough to be teasing all the more reason sticking around is clearly a good thing.
“Nope,” he answers, voice chipper as he shoots a finger gun at Eddie.
Eddie shakes his head ruefully. “Alright, didn’t think so.”
Without further ado, Steve flops himself gracelessly onto his makeshift bed for the night, the thick carpet beneath softening his landing.
“Night, Eddie.”
“Yeah. Yeah, night, Steve.”
Several long moments pass, and Steve listens, waiting to hear Eddie’s breathing evening out. It’s a sound he has become well acquainted with after many nights spent at the hospital, fitfully trying to sleep in the uncomfortable chair at Eddie’s bedside. When he fails to hear that telltale signal, Steve can’t help but stay tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
He doesn’t have to wait long before Eddie breaks the silence.
“Steve?” Eddie calls out, voice wavering. “Could you–fuck, man, I just need…”
He trails off, becoming muffled as he probably buries his face in his hands again. Even in the darkness, as Steve sits up, he can see the way Eddie’s shoulders hitch with his uneven breathing.
Without a word, he abandons the pillow and blanket on the floor to climb back onto the bed. Eddie doesn’t even look up when Steve’s weight dips the mattress.
“Hey, man,” Steve hipchecks him, nudging him over gently, “move over.”
“Harrington…” Eddie drawls slowly, looking completely lost even as he does as requested. His eyes widen further when Steve climbs into the empty space he left behind. “What’re you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans back onto the pillows, getting comfortable.
“I know what it looks like, I just need some reassurance I’m not just hallucinating from blood loss or something here, man. Maybe you didn’t actually pull me, barely alive, out of that hellhole, and everything since then has all just been a really, really elaborate dream.”
Steve laughs, jostling his shoulder slightly.
“You’re not hallucinating.”
Eddie continues to stare at him in silent disbelief, causing Steve to sigh and sit up.
“Look, man, I–I get it, okay? All this, afterwards…sometimes it helps, just…being together. Close by, you know?”
Steve had had Nancy and the pretense of normalcy after the first go around, though that had all quickly gone to hell.
And the second time, when the kids truly were still kids, not the tiny adults they were fast becoming, there had been Dustin. The night after their second showdown, they’d slept side-by-side on their own makeshift palate on Joyce Byers’ living room floor, the other munchkins all scattered around them and Steve’s hand ruffled in Dustin’s hair, just the reassurance that he was there safe and comforting.
It was the best Steve had slept in almost a year.
And then, after the third time, there had been Robin. Filling up his parents’ empty house with laughter, movie marathons and impromptu sleepovers. Robin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night because she didn’t want to sleep alone in the echoing walls of Casa de Harrington, the two of them kicking each other like two giggling preteens until they fell asleep.
So, yeah. Together, in Steve’s many years of experience, was undeniably better.
“Besides, this way I can check and make sure you don’t actually bleed out in the middle of the night.”
“...If you say so,” Eddie says dubiously, but he doesn’t argue any further, which Steve counts as a win. He’s learned to take them where he can get them, these days.
But even after his agreement, Eddie’s restlessness is transparent. He fidgets beside Steve–drumming his fingers, squirming in the sheets as though trying to get comfortable, and eventually rolling half onto his side so that he’s facing away from Steve entirely. As Steve peers curiously at the outline of his shoulders, he realizes Eddie is still trembling, just a little.
His heart gives a painful kick in his chest.
“Here, just–” Steve turns until he’s lined up along Eddie’s back and then wraps a hand around his waist, pulling him back against him.
Eddie’s fidgeting stops immediately as he freezes in Steve’s arms.
“How’s that?” he asks into the waves of Eddie’s hair brushing against his face. “Better?”
“Uh.”
The hesitation in Eddie’s voice makes Steve really wish he could see his face, get a better read on the situation. Eddie’s so damn expressive, he might as well be the poster boy for “heart on his sleeve” as a phrase.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
“Are you totally weirded out?” Steve asks, trying to keep his voice casual. “If you want me to, like, stop, you can just…tell me, you know.”
“No,” Eddie laughs, his head dipping downwards, “no, man, it’s…it’s definitely not that. I’m just trying to reconcile several shifting pieces of my world outlook into place all at once.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Eddie turns, then, tipping over onto his back again so he can stare at Steve in disbelief. Steve doesn’t loosen his hold on his waist.
“Steve Harrington. Is in my bed. Spooning me,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “None of that strikes you as weird?”
“I’m not spooning you now,” Steve points out. “You turned around.”
“Dude!” Eddie smacks his shoulder, shaking his head, laughter in his voice. They’re close enough his hair tickles Steve’s face as it whips around them.
“And, no, not really,” Steve shrugs. “Probably doesn’t even rank in the top ten weirdest things I’ve done in the past three years.”
“I mean…after the shit I’ve seen? I don’t doubt that, dude.”
But Eddie stares at him for a long beat after he admits it, eyes bright and brows drawn. There’s an expression, on his face, like he’d like to crack Steve open and see how his gears work, understand him from the inside out.
Plenty of people have looked at Steve like they wanted him. Steve’s not sure anyone has ever looked at him like this before, though.
The comforter has fallen down around Eddie’s waist, the shirt Steve had lent him riding up, exposing the pale line of his stomach. The worst of the wounds are still covered in bandages, the stitching hidden underneath them, but a patch of fresh, purple scarring spills out from the stark white gauze.
That’s the only real explanation that Steve has, for what he decides to break the sudden, loaded silence with.
(Plus maybe, just maybe, it’s one way of giving Eddie a part of himself, one jigsaw piece in the puzzle those bright brown eyes seem eager to solve.)
“You know, Nancy has a scar on her palm.”
When Eddie’s face turns towards his on the pillow, shooting him a puzzled look, he keeps going.
“Here, like this,” Steve tries to sound nonchalant as he takes Eddie’s hand, drags a finger gently across it. He’s not sure how much he’s succeeded, seeing the way the furrow of Eddie’s brow deepens in the low light. “And it’s…from the first time, with the demogorgon? Nancy and Jonathan, they–they lured it out together, and they’ve got the matching scars to prove it. She explained it to me, later, what happened.”
“I mean…that sounds like a gnarly war wound,” Eddie observes hesitantly. Then, his lips tug into a lopsided smile. “Not as impressive as a missing nipple, of course, but, you know–not everybody can be as badass as me.”
“Shut up, dude,” Steve scoffs, trying to bite back his own smile as he very gently jostles Eddie’s arm.
“What I’m trying to say, Harrington, is–I’m not really sure why you’re telling me this now?”
“I was getting to it, Eds. Sheesh, when it comes to patience, you're as bad as the munchkins.”
Eddie inclines his head for Steve to continue, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You have my sincerest apologies for interrupting, Stevie. Please–carry on, my liege.”
“Thank you,” Steve says snippily, partially out of habit, and partially because returning to the topic at hand is making him a little nervous. “So, like I was saying–Jonathan and Nance, they’ve got these matching marks on their hands, right? And, after they got back together–not to sound like a stalker, or anything, for the record this was when we would hang out sometimes–but more than once I would…I would catch them, just. Doing this thing where they pressed their palms together, like this.”
He demonstrates, spreading his hand out so his and Eddie’s hands line up together perfectly, Steve’s own longer fingers inching out over the tips of Eddie’s own.
“I don’t think they ever realized I noticed. But I always knew, when they did it, they were comparing their–what did you call them?–their matching war wounds. Like they carried this secret little thing that would always tie them together, no matter what happened. And I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t jealous, at first, but even then, I always thought it was…nice. The thought of having somebody who would always be connected to you, that way, where you could never really erase what you’d been through together.”
A long beat of silence passes between them, him and Eddie staring at each other in the moonlight. Steve hopes, desperately, that maybe some part of what he’s trying to work up to saying is getting through.
“That is…incredibly morbid. Especially for you, Harrington,” Eddie notes finally, a corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement.
Steve huffs out a breath, beginning to pull his hand away, “Whatever, man, if you’re just gonna make fun, forget I said any–”
“Shit, no no no, dude!” Eddie’s arm flies out, gripping Steve tightly around the wrist, not letting him slink away. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I–that’s not what I meant. I do, I do get what you’re saying. Like you said, scars like that–they work like a symbol, that you’ve been through some tough shit together, side by side, and made it out the other end alive. I totally fucking get it, dude. And against all instincts, I do think it’s pretty romantic, in an absolutely metal sorta way. That’s why I said it like that. Just didn’t expect your romantic side to come with so much edge, Stevie boy.”
“Yeah, well,” Steve lets out a dry huff, “almost dying about a hundred times will do that to a person.”
“Yeah, I guess it will. I’m, uh. Still not completely clear about what Wheeler and Byers’ big epic love story has to do with us, though?” Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Unless…you’re here to wallow? In which case–I mean, fair enough. Wallow away, my good sir. You’ve more than earned it.”
“It’s not that,” Steve insists, even as he shrugs his shoulders, slightly conceding the point. “I mean, sure, with Nancy…I really thought she was it for me, once upon a time. And so when I saw what she had, with Jonathan–it hurt. Because it was her, of course, but also…because I wanted that with someone, as twisted as it maybe sounds. I’d gone through hell and back, too, and all I got was that nail bat and a bunch of mouthy kids to look out for.”
Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, and Steve grins back at him.
“Not that I’m complaining, or anything. I mean, I got Robin, too, and I don’t know what I’d do without her, or the hellions, for that matter. But, I–”
Deliberately, he tugs up his own shirt, shifting until he’s pressing carefully against Eddie’s side. Their matching bandages brush, an identical swath of white in the darkness, tangled scars seeming to almost curl together. It’s hard, in that moment, to tell where one of them ends and the other begins.
“I just–never thought I’d have anybody else to match with. That’s all.”
“But–now you do?” Eddie says slowly, something cautious in his voice.
“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs, the corner of his mouth curving upwards in a tentative half-smile. “Now I’ve got you.”
“...You got me,” Eddie agrees quietly, almost like he’s afraid to speak that part out loud. “Dragged me out of hell and everything, Harrington. No return receipt after all that so…don’t really think there’s any getting rid of me now, even if you wanted to.”
“Good,” Steve says curtly, with a sharp, certain nod of his head, leaving no room for any creeping doubts. “Like I said, Munson, I’ve been waiting on this for a while, so you don’t get to run out on me now.”
Eddie shakes his head again, lips curling in bemusement.
“You are something else entirely, Steve Harrington,” he admits. “Full of surprises.”
“Good ones?” Steve asks, suddenly self-conscious.
Eddie tilts his head back and forth, as though he’s considering.
(Later, he will tease Steve about it mercilessly.
“Was that the infamous Harrington charm at work? Bet you tell that one to all the boys you lure into your bed, seduce them with tales of matching battle wounds connecting you like a pair of fated lovers.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Eds,” Steve will counter with that same sincerity that always sends Eddie blushing, “cuz I’ve never said anything like that before. Not to anybody. Not before you.”)
But, for now, it takes only a moment for Eddie’s face to dissolve into a warm smile. Reaching over, he tangles his fingers with Steve’s again, tugging their interlaced hands up to rest against one of the scarred patches stretching across his belly.
The skin feels smooth under Steve’s hand. For a moment, he wonders how it would feel, to press his lips there.
“Yeah,” Eddie answers, eyes sparkling with so many promises of the future, for now left unsaid. “Yeah, I’d say pretty good so far.”
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#my writing#my stuff#my things#me coming at you with yet another spin on an established steddie trope? it's more likely than you think
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LOUD.
a background check.
“Are you angry?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes trained on his hands wringing the shirt’s fabric in his lap.
“It’s okay if you are.”
Obi-Wan shook his head again. It wasn’t okay if he was angry. Even before Melidaan they’d accused him of being too headstrong, too volatile. Too angry.
He’d been so angry on Melida/Daan.
“Are you scared?”
He nodded before he could think. The nod, too, was too volatile, too angry.
“Are you scared you could infect people?”
Amongst others, he thought a bit hysterically. Nodded.
“The healers have tested, rigorously, if you can infect others. They have confirmed that you are not a danger to others, Obi-Wan.”
Which was the only reason he could be outside his room when the walls got too small or too big.
“How are you adjusting to the mask?”
He shrugged. Sometimes he wanted to rip it off and half his face with it. Sometimes he wished he could crawl into it completely and escape the curious looks and whispers of how his jaw was gone, have you heard? I’ve heard he’s rotting underneath—
.
It started with a cough after Melida/Daan.
He got message after message on the progress after he left and it made him smile, sometimes laugh at the betrayed disbelief over how much bureaucracy was actually necessary to form a planetary government.
The laughs soon turned into hacking coughs.
He drank the tea Qui-Gon made him to soothe his throat.
“Just a cold,” he murmured. He’d had that one before leaving Melidaan, and he and the Temple healers figured it was the stress his body had to endure that finally caught up with him.
“If it gets worse,” Qui-Gon started, looked down into his own cup, and fell silent.
Obi-Wan’s return to the Temple was a mixed bag of loth cats, after all.
A year of rumors and no contact showed him exceedingly well and painful in its brutal subtlety of lost smiles and avoidance who his friends were.
Lumi— Luminara had waited outside the healer’s wing after a follow-up check. Had straightened up when she saw him and clasped her hands in front of her. “I am very happy to see you, Obi-Wan,” she said, halted and stiff before the anger got the better of her.
What in the Galaxy had compelled him to leave the Order? No sign of him. Just an official statement that he had chosen to leave the Order. And now he’s back?
“What the fuck, Obi-Wan!” She reeled back immediately. Took a step back.
And Obi-Wan’s life had taught him how to step forward despite the fear clawing at him. “Let me explain? Please?”
She huffed at him, head up high. “This better be good. Quinlan is driving me up the Temple walls with his teenage drama sullenness over you.”
So that was why Obi-Wan hadn’t seen him but exactly once since he’d come back.
Obi-Wan explained. The war. Master Tahl. Master Qui-Gon. The war. The children. The war children. The war. The war. The war—
He hiccuped on the tears and something… something changed. In his throat. He lifted a hand to it—
Lumi’s arm was around him, stroking his shoulder and crying with him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—“
He coughed, convulsed with the cough, and there was blood on Lumi.
It had started with a cough after Melida/Daan began to turn into Melidaan and he, what felt like, crawled back to the Order begging for forgiveness and a new path and a new Master while he was at it.
What followed was multiple summons to the Council, a closed door meeting of the Council and Qui-Gon after which his Master wouldn’t look him in the eye for a week.
What followed was Master Tholme being dragged across the courtyard by Quinlan who avoided his eyes but emanated stubborn help. The Shadow Master, which was only a rumor but a rumor that had lasted decades, drily looked at Quinlan before explaining to Obi-Wan how Quin had washed and pleated the robes Master Tholme was now wearing. Would Obi-Wan like some tea?
Tea turned out to be a monstrosity of a milkshake, a secret even more closely guarded than Shadow identities.
“I have been informed you are looking for a change.”
What followed was Obi-Wan getting to know Master Tholme as a person. The soft, comfortable core of him that was never betrayed by his stoic expression but rather the old fashioned music player his first Padawan had gifted him that he danced to in the sanctuary of his kitchen. His silences that invited to share, his calm demeanor, his high expectations and his steady, grounded, and ever ready provided help.
Before all that, the new Master, the old Master, a planet uniting, there was a kiss in victory, in celebration, and in genuine, heartfelt thanks, that transferred a local bacteria.
And that, that had started the cough.
.
“The Force is with—“ is the last thing he’s spoken with his own voice and, with distance and age, he’s rather proud of that one.
A lot of distance and age, granted.
Getting eaten from the inside out had hurt, had pushed him to the brink of insanity with how much it hurt even with the healers - five, six, seven healers working simultaneously to keep him from dying - keeping the pain at bay.
They had used the Force to try to contain the bacteria’s progress, trying to buy time to figure out what was attacking him.
He’d succumbed eventually. The pain, the sheer force of wills battling against the infection, half his neck just… gone. He’d succumbed to unconsciousness with Master Qui-Gon’s forehead against the back of his limp hand, and waited to see if he’d wake up again.
.
“The system Melidaan resides in has a strain of bacteria that,” newly graduated Healer Che halted, managing to shuffle her data pad like a stack of flimsi, “eats human-based tissue. The population is vaccinated and only very few cases have been reported in the past decades. It has been nearly forgotten.”
It spread orally.
Obi-Wan, when everyone was gone and he had managed to limp to his data pad on the table across the room, had sent a message “are you okay? Please go to the hospital”. Had crawled to the fresher, had scrubbed his lips and sutures raw and bleeding, and cried silently until dawn jostled him back to bed.
.
“How are you feeling, Obi-Wan?”
He shrugged. Eyes trained on the cracking open hands in his lap. “How is Thelar,” he signed.
“They are recovering well. Their healer contacted our office to let you know that they are alright and they are sorry.”
Thelar was too nice.
“You pushed them with the Force. What happened?”
Talking and teaching basic sign language and he got to take his first deep breath without the mask and in the company of friends.
Wet and too narrow and he was drowning in the liquified tissue of— no air, no feeling, his lips pressed against his teeth and he couldn’t feel it but the drowning and choking—
“They kissed me,” he signed.
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Boundless Devotion - Part XV (Final)
Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff
Words: 8179
It’s difficult to know how much time has passed when you’re trapped within your own mind.
One moment, you’re glaring at the one who you once believed was your father, wishing for his downfall.
The next, you’re falling into the eyes of the one who holds your heart, all while gripping a dagger aimed at hers.
The lost time spent drifting between reality and darkness always leaves you with a sense of helplessness, especially when you later awaken to discover the actions you took during that time, actions that still haunt you.
Your current condition feels similar to that feeling of being trapped, except, unfortunately, this experience is far more agonizing.
With each passing moment, every part of you aches, both mentally and physically.
The sensation only seems to intensify, worsening to where it feels as though your entire body is engulfed in flames, burning from the inside out. Even the simple act of breathing becomes a challenge, let alone attempting to move.
At times, the overwhelming agony drains you to the point where your weary mind is tempted to just surrender to the dark void at the edge of your consciousness, promising relief.
But then a voice breaks through amidst all of the pain, calling your name in desperate pleading.
Though your tired mind struggles to place the voice in the moment, it feels familiar.
There's something about it that warms your heart, making you forget about the pain even if only for a fleeting moment.
The devastation in their tone is the reason you find the sudden need within you to push through the agony, if only to help alleviate the sadness in their voice.
And so, that's what you decide to do.
You endure, and you stay.
Gradually, it starts getting better. The pain lessens along with fewer waves of feverish sensations coursing through your body.
Eventually, you hear other voices too, all familiar and all concerned for you. And as your mind slowly recovers from the fog of pain, it begins to piece those voices with their respective owners.
Wanda and Pietro
Yelena and Kate
Carol
Even Queen Melina
Ironically, the one voice you hear the most, always a constant source of comfort and peace at your side, is the one that proves the most challenging to place.
Frustrated at the mystery of this person, you eventually gather enough strength one day to will your mind to wake up, determined to finally discover their identity.
Slowly, your eyes open, and after a few blinks, your vision clears.
The first thing you realize is that you’re not in your room, but the surroundings look familiar. With a dull ache on your stomach, you opt to turn your head instead to survey the rest of the area.
As your gaze falls upon the sleeping figure by the window, illuminated by the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on her red hair, memories flood back, and you finally recall the owner of that elusive voice.
Natasha
With her eyes closed, the princess sits in her window seat facing you, her head resting on her hand against her bent knee.
The realization that she must have fallen asleep, likely exhausted from watching over you, causes a sad bittersweet feeling to form in your heart.
Glancing around once more, you take in Natasha’s bedroom, a place you haven’t visited in a while since before everything that had happened last year.
Despite subtle changes in details, everything remains mostly unchanged. Her swords and armor hang securely on the wall, and her shelves are lined with books and personal items that she treasured through the years.
On her desk, a small stack of papers awaits her attention, likely documents of the kingdom needing review, and adjacent to them sits a tray of obviously untouched food.
You frown at the sight, aware of Natasha’s tendency to neglect meals whenever she’s stressed or too busy.
Returning your gaze to her, you notice the dark circles under her eyes, deepening your frown and concern.
Intending to call out to her and urge her to rest in her bed, you open your mouth, but your parched throat betrays you, plunging you into a painful fit of coughing instead.
Natasha’s eyes snap open instantly, her body tensing in alertness as she searches the room, before locking onto you in realization.
She swiftly rises from the window seat and approaches the edges of the bed where you lie, her hand reaching out to comfort you but then she stops in hesitation just before she touches you.
As you regain your breath, you notice her hand clench with nervous energy before slowly withdrawing to her side.
Summoning your strength, you reach out and grasp her hand firmly, not letting her go far, as you intertwine your fingers and rest them atop the bed.
You nod toward the bed, silently urging her to stay by your side.
Natasha's tense posture relaxes at your gesture, and a faint, relieved smile forms on her lips as she takes a seat at the edge of the bed. She reaches for the cup on the nightstand, bringing it to your lips and helping you take a sip, soothing your parched throat.
In a whisper so soft as if afraid to break the moment with you, Natasha asks, "How are you feeling?"
“Sore,” you respond honestly, your voice still strained.
A flash of regret flickers across Natasha’s face as she looks towards your injury. Not wanting her to spiral into guilt over what happened, you tug on her clasped hand to bring her attention back to you.
“Can you help me sit up?” you ask, determination in your tone as you release her hand and prepare to push yourself upright.
“You really shouldn’t be moving right now,” Natasha cautions, her hands hovering tentatively in concern.
“I know, but I want to,” you insist.
The thought of continuing to lie helplessly on your back, a sight that likely tormented Natasha during your time of unconsciousness, doesn’t sit well with you.
You want to reassure her that you’re feeling better than your previously weakened state.
Natasha hesitates, torn between honoring your request or prioritizing your well-being. However, she comes to a decision when she sees the determined look on your face.
“You’re so stubborn,” she remarks with a gentle shake of her head, a hint of fondness in her voice, as her hands move to support you carefully in sitting up against the headboard.
“Takes one to know one,” you tease lightly, offering a small smile as you lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.
A comfortable silence settles between you as you stare up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Memories flood back, and you distinctly recall Natasha’s anguished face above you before darkness consumed your vision.
Your smile drops slightly at the memory, and with a tired sigh, you turn to meet her patient gaze, breaking the silence.
“How long was I out for?” you ask softly.
“Three days,” Natasha responds gently.
Processing the information, disappointment washes over you as you realize what was supposed to have taken place yesterday.
“Your coronation…I missed it,” you say sadly.
Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief at your priority.
“No, you didn’t,” she reassures. “I’m not the queen yet.”
At your confused expression, Natasha continues her explanation.
“I postponed it. And before you say I didn’t have to, you know that there was no way I would have gone through with it without having you there.”
“Besides,” Natasha adds with a playful smirk. “Staying by your side is always better than any kind of event, even if it’s my coronation.”
Her comment lightens the somber atmosphere, drawing a small laugh from you, which makes her grin in turn.
The action causes a dull ache to appear at your side, and unconsciously, your hand moves to brush against the bandages covering where the blade had pierced you, reminding you of your ordeal.
“So what happened after…” you trail off, unable to voice the memory.
Natasha's gaze shifts sadly to your wounded area as she begins to explain.
"Yelena arrived with the physician shortly after. They tended to Pietro and you," she recounts. "Meanwhile, Kate stayed at her manor to apprehend the attackers and helped Wanda to recover."
Concern flickers in your eyes, prompting Natasha to offer a reassuring grin.
"Don't worry, Wanda's fine. She just tired herself out when she took down Rumlow and his followers.”
At your puzzled expression, Natasha moves her hand pointedly, mirroring the similar action of Wanda’s whenever she uses her powers.
“Oh,” you say, at a loss for words in realization.
Natasha chuckles at your expression, raising her brows at you.
“You did say she had a special way with people.”
Sighing worriedly, you explain your reasoning for keeping Wanda’s abilities a secret.
“You know how some people are towards magic, Natasha.”
“Well, considering she saved our lives, I’ll make sure no one messes with her, though I’m sure she can protect herself just fine.”
You let out a small breath of relief at her reassurance before inquiring further, “What about everyone else?”
Natasha tilts her head in thought as she continues to recount the events afterward.
“Clint was able to warn my dad, Steve, and Carol in time to capture the ones under control here in the castle. And as for the ones that went after my mom…”
She lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, “...let’s just say that they shouldn’t have attacked her in her lab when she was in the middle of mixing certain chemicals and powders.”
You chuckle lightly at the thought, knowing about Queen Melina’s tendency to cause explosions in her lab during her experiments.
However, the mention of explosions brings a grim reminder of another figure Natasha hasn't mentioned yet.
“And Dreykov?” you ask cautiously. “Did he escape?”
Natasha's hand clench into a fist at his name, her expression clouding with silent fury.
"No, he's currently in prison, awaiting trial. Along with the rest of the traitors," she responds, shaking her head with resolve.
Taking your hand in a reassuring grip, she adds, "But you don't need to worry about him. I won't let him hurt you ever again."
Natasha lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your skin.
“I promise.”
You offer her a grateful smile, relieved at the information.
However, a sense of resignation settles in as you prepare to bring up the next topic.
“I guess all that’s left is to decide what to do about me,” you say with a heavy sigh.
Natasha tightens her grip on your hand as she urges gently, "Just concentrate on getting better.”
You chuckle lightly before your expression turns somber as you clarify.
"No, I mean about me being the Stark princess."
An awkward silence descends in the air, both of you acutely aware of the weight of the decision looming over you.
As much as you dislike it, the reality of your identity remains, and you need to officially address its involvement in your future eventually.
“What do you want to do?” Natasha finally asks, breaking the silence.
You contemplate your options and remember your conversation with Bucky, finding that your feelings about your decision remain unchanged even now.
"Honestly, Natasha, I want to just leave it in the past," you admit. "Everything's relatively peaceful between the kingdoms at the moment. What's the point in bringing up troubling revelations from mistakes in the past?"
“Are you sure?” Natasha questions in concern before pointing out. “You’re essentially rejecting your title as a princess.”
You nod, giving her a content smile.
"I've never needed it in my life before,” you say as you tilt your head at her in question, a hint of warmth in your voice as you ask, “Besides, I already have a princess in my life, don't I?”
Natasha returns your gaze with an affectionate smile before intertwining your hands together.
"Yeah, I'm yours," she affirms softly.
Gradually, you feel more strength returning to your body as you remain awake, nodding confidently as you adjust your position carefully.
"I think I'm feeling better enough to go back to my manor this evening," you observe, suggesting, "If you could have the twins come and help me, then you can finally get a proper night's sleep in your own bed tonight."
Before you can sit up any further, Natasha’s hand moves to your shoulder, gently holding you in place, her expression filled with disbelief.
Glancing at her hand, you give her a questioning look, causing Natasha to shake her head exasperatedly.
"If you think you're going to leave this bed anytime soon, especially after being stabbed for my sake, you need to think again," Natasha says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Meeting her gaze, you both engage in a standoff, locked in a silent challenge. After a moment, Natasha raises her brow at you.
“If the situation was reversed, would you let me move?” she asks pointedly.
You open your mouth to reply before deflating in resignation, knowing you would do the same as her if you were in her position.
“Fine,” you concede, though a small pout forms on your lips, before adding, “But I should still return your bed to you and move into one of the guest rooms.”
Natasha tilts her head in thought as she traces a pattern on the blanket on your lap before commenting.
"Is that really necessary? It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," she reasons, her tone light.
Then, with a teasing smirk, she adds, "Unless this is your way of avoiding me after I confessed that I love you."
You pause, taken aback by her casual declaration, and you feel your cheeks heating up as you finally process her words.
When you see the victorious smirk on her face, you roll your eyes and shake your head, giving her a chatising look.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, frustration evident in your tone, though there's a hint of fondness.
“I believe you’ve always called me charming,” Natasha retorts, her smirk widening.
Frustrated, your hands grip the collar of her tunic tightly, pulling her closer to you.
"Natasha Alianovna Romanov," you begin, your voice tinged with both exasperation and affection.
She smirks, amusement dancing in her eyes as she catches herself with her hands against the bed on each side of you, encasing you between her arms.
Gazing at you with a teasing expression, she prompts, "Yes?"
With a small smile, you finally gather the courage to voice the words you've been longing to tell her.
"I'm in love with you," you confess softly, your heart pounding in your chest.
"That's good..." Natasha replies, her voice tender as she leans in closer, "...cause I'm deeply in love with you too."
Her words brush against your lips softly, and without hesitation, you tug her closer, closing the tiny distance between the two of you.
The kiss feels both new and familiar, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, as you lose yourself in the moment, savoring the warmth of her lips against yours.
Natasha is the one who pulls back first, resting her forehead against yours and letting out a happy sigh.
"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do that," she admits, her voice filled with sincere longing.
Unconsciously, you lightly bite your lip to keep the warmth and feeling of her there for a little longer, before noticing Natasha's gaze drifting down to the subtle movement.
You recall the countless times you've witnessed that look of desire in her eyes, prompting a small chuckle to escape your lips as you pull her in closer.
"I think I do," you tease, brushing lightly against her lips. "You're not exactly subtle, princess."
Natasha lets out a tiny huff, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in for another kiss and then another, each one gentle and delicate, never leaving your lips for more than a second, as she steals your breath away and makes you melt against her.
Your hand, still lingering on her collar, instinctively seeks more contact, slipping beneath the thin layer of her clothing to clutch at her bare shoulder.
The warmth of her skin beneath your touch only intensifies the longing between you as you try to pull her closer.
As you go to deepen the kiss, the moment is suddenly shattered by an unexpected interruption.
“Oh my—Nat! Let her breathe! She just woke up!”
Startled, you pull back from Natasha, breaking the kiss, as your gaze shifts to the doorway where Yelena and Kate stand.
Natasha groans in frustration, her head falling against your shoulder.
Kate quickly steps in to cover Yelena's mouth, offering you an apologetic expression.
"Sorry! We just wanted to check on you two. We didn't mean to interrupt," she explains, as Yelena’s objection is muffled behind her hand.
Still pressed against your neck, Natasha responds in an annoyed tone, "Then leave."
Yelena rolls her eyes at her sister's bluntness, pulling Kate's hand away to respond, "Alright, alright, we get it."
With a warm smile directed at you, Yelena adds, "It's good to see you awake, Y/n."
"Yeah, we're glad that you're okay," Kate chimes in, relief evident in her eyes.
You offer them both a grateful nod. "Thank you two for coming."
“I guess we’ll visit you later then,” Yelena remarks, moving to take Kate's arm and guide her away from the door.
As Kate closes the door behind them, you catch snippets of their conversation.
"Should we really, though?" Kate's voice holds a hint of hesitation. "I don't want to interrupt them again while they're...you know."
Yelena hums thoughtfully before responding, "I mean it's a good thing we did this time, or else Y/n would have probably pulled out her stitches trying to undress Natasha."
Your face flushes with embarrassment as you instinctively cover it with your hands, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you.
Natasha chuckles lightly, adjusting her tunic as she shoots you a playful smirk, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes.
“Don’t even start,” you warn, noticing her mischievous expression.
Natasha holds up her hands innocently, adopting a nonchalant tone as she suggests, "I was just going to say we should have the physician come and check your condition."
She then adds with a teasing edge, "After all, you may have overexerted yourself from being so eager to kiss me."
You huff in disbelief, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.
"I'm the eager one?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your tone.
Natasha nods with mock seriousness.
"If you say so."
Rolling your eyes, you playfully swat at her shoulder, then turn away with a small pout.
"In all seriousness, though, let me go get the physician," Natasha says, amusement evident in her voice at your behavior.
As she turns to leave, you call out to her.
"Wait, Natasha.”
She turns back to face you, curiosity in her eyes.
Leaning forward, you catch her off guard with a surprise kiss before pulling away.
"...okay, now you can go," you whisper against her lips.
Natasha's eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected contact, her tongue lightly tracing where your lips touched hers. When she finally opens her eyes again, they seem impossibly darker, filled with a mixture of desire and love that makes your breath catch.
“That’s unfair,” she breathes out, her voice husky with desire. “…doing that just as I’m about to leave.”
You pull away slightly, only for her to follow, not allowing the distance between you two to grow. A sly, knowing grin spreads across your face as you tease her.
"I just wanted to see who between us is actually the one who's more eager."
"I'm your princess, yet you're teasing me like this," Natasha says playfully, feigning disbelief.
"And you still love me anyway," you point out, a fond smile playing on your lips.
Natasha's eyes soften, and she closes the distance between you once more, whispering her next words against your lips.
“Yeah, I do.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Upon hearing that you were awake, Wanda and Pietro arrived quickly just as the physician was assessing your condition.
Soon after, a request from her mother to speak with Natasha in private causes her to leave the twins in charge of watching over you at your insistence.
Now, Natasha stands in her private study, a deep frown creasing her forehead as she examines the letters that her mother had handed to her.
“What is this?” Natasha asks, her voice steady but laced with a subtle hint of anger as she reads the contents of some of the letters.
Melina lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache, knowing that her daughter won't take the news well.
“Many of the heads of the other noble houses in the kingdom are asking for Lord Dreykov’s release,” she reveals grimly.
“He tried to kill me,” Natasha states incredulously. “And yet they’re still defending him.”
“I warned you that Lord Dreykov is influential among the other nobles. You need strong evidence if you want people to turn their back on him,” her mother reminds her.
She then places a stack of documents on the desk, and Natasha quickly realizes that these are the results of Steve’s investigation.
Her mother continues her lecture, as Natasha skims the contents.
“The staff from the Bishop manor provided witness accounts of Lord Rumlow and the others' betrayal, but there were no witnesses at Dreykov’s manor besides you and Y/n.”
“What about his guards?” Natasha suggests.
Melina shakes her head grimly. “Found dead in their cells by unknown means.”
“What about Barnes?” Natasha points out the presence of the old captain.
Melina gives her a look of disbelief, raising an eyebrow.
“The other nobles are not going to believe the words of a known criminal.”
Frustration and disbelief cloud Natasha's expression as she processes the information. She searches for another angle, another way to bring Dreykov to justice.
“If we can’t prove attempted murder against me, then what about the fact that he almost killed Y/n?”
Melina grimaces, her reluctance evident in her expression as she braces herself to deliver the answer Natasha doesn't want to hear.
“What is it?” Natasha presses, her tone betraying a hint of impatience.
Melina taps the stack of letters pointedly before explaining, “Many argue that Dreykov’s actions against Y/n are akin to a father disciplining their child and is not a crime, especially considering she survived. They believe it's a family matter that should be resolved within the respective house and not involve any others.”
Natasha's frown deepens as she hears this, her hand tightening around the letters.
“I told you handling the relationships between the nobles of the court is delicate work,” Melina reminds her gently.
“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean,” Natasha concedes, her expression resigned in anger at the twisted parts of the kingdom.
Melina offers a comforting gesture, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder and giving her a proud look.
“Don’t worry, Natasha. Lord Dreykov can still be forced to face trial if you want. And I’m confident that you can convince the others to be on your side. In this matter and the future.”
Her mother’s encouragement does little to ease Natasha’s mind of the difficult task ahead for her once she becomes the queen.
Despite the troubling news, Natasha still thanks her mother for the warning before taking her leave.
Returning to your side, Natasha finds you resting once again, exhaustion evident in your features. She watches you with a tender and affectionate gaze, remembering her promise to protect you from any further harm.
If there's one thing Natasha is certain of for the future, it's her unwavering commitment to fulfilling her vow to protect you.
With that resolve in mind, she later finds herself standing at the entrance of the most secure cell in prison, her arms crossed as she fixes a steely glare on the person seated in the shadows.
"Well?" Dreykov's voice cuts through the stillness of the chamber. “Is that girl dead yet?”
Natasha's jaw clenches at his callous words, refusing to be baited by his cruelty.
A click of his tongue signals his understanding before he speaks again, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.
“No, you wouldn’t let that happen. So, then, are you here to finish what you started?”
Dreykov's eyes finally meet hers, his form emerging from the darkness as he tilts his head, his injuries still evident in the flickering light.
His face bears the remnants of bruises, one eye swollen shut—a testament to the beating Natasha had inflicted upon him when she first learned of the severity and uncertainty of your condition from the physician.
Unconsciously, Natasha's hands clench into fists, the memory of her rage surfacing as she recalls the moment she unleashed her fury upon him, her knuckles bruising and bleeding until Yelena intervened to pull her away.
Dreykov catches her movement, a knowing glint in his eyes as a smirk tug at the corners of his lips.
“I see, so you’re mad because you can’t kill me,” he says confidently, accurately guessing her current predicament. “Tell me, how many of the other nobles have interceded for my release?”
Natasha grits her teeth in irritation at the extent of Dreykov's influence over the court and the fact he already knows that some nobles would rally to his defense.
“They’ll abandon you once they realize what sort of person you truly are,” she retorts, her tone firm.
Dreykov chuckles in amusement, unfazed by her words.
“Feeling pressured already?” he taunts. “It’s just going to get worse from here on. After all, I’m not the only one in this kingdom who wants a war.”
“And you already know that I would never let that happen,” Natasha counters, her voice tinged with resolve. “That’s the whole reason why you didn’t want me as the queen in the first place.”
Dreykov eyes her critically, considering her words before a smirk dances across his lips.
“Perhaps I was wrong about you. You have potential. You just need the right…” he waves his hand dramatically. “…motivation.”
Rolling her eyes at his attempt at manipulation, Natasha turns to leave.
However, before she can reach the exit, Dreykov's voice calls out to her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Do you know what causes war the most, Your Highness? More than greed or vengeance?”
Natasha turns back to glare at him, irritated by his continued insinuations.
At her silence, he answers his own question.
“Love,” he spits out the word in disgust. “Such a foolish emotion, but you’d be surprised at how much destruction it can cause.”
He raises his brow at her, gesturing pointedly. “And it seems you have plenty for that pathetic girl.”
Natasha slams her fist against the bars, anger erupting, as she glares daggers at him.
“You better hope you don’t get to leave this cell, Dreykov. Because if I ever see you free…” she pauses, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “…I’ll kill you myself.”
Despite her threat, a pleased smile forms on Dreykov’s face, as if her words confirmed something for him, infuriating her further.
Turning swiftly to the door, Natasha indicates to the guards to let her out, but Dreykov's voice interrupts her again.
“I do have one more question for you.”
The door opens for her to leave as he continues.
“If that girl ever ends up in the way of you and your so-called peace, would you still choose to avoid war then…or would you fight for her?”
Natasha clenches her hand, finding herself unable to respond, her mind consumed by the weight of his words.
With a determined look, she decides not to entertain his question further, swiftly leaving the cell and slamming the door shut behind her.
“I look forward to seeing what your choice would be when that time comes, Your Majesty,” Dreykov's voice echoes tauntingly down the corridor as Natasha makes her way back to you.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The unsettling exchange with Dreykov from that night a week ago still lingers in her mind as Natasha sits at her desk, lost in thought.
She ponders his cryptic words, bothered by his confidence that trouble was coming, and especially at the implication of having you in the middle of it all.
Her main concern is for your safety, prompting her to consider every possible scenario where you might be at risk.
After all, she had come dangerously close to losing you during the recent conflict, a thought that sends a shiver down her spine every time.
Leaning back in her chair, Natasha’s gaze falls on the small opened box resting on her desk, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window.
The red gemstone embedded in the golden band glimmers with a silent promise, one that she hasn’t dared to ask you yet.
Pushing aside the unsettling thoughts of Dreykov's words, Natasha closes the lid of the box with a gentle sigh, tucking it away in the drawer for safekeeping.
One day, she promises.
When she can guarantee your safety and ensure that she can provide you with a peaceful future, she’ll give it to you then.
A knock at her door draws her attention, and Natasha looks up to see you poking your head inside, a playful smile dancing on your lips.
"Don’t tell me you’re hiding already?" you tease, your voice laced with amusement.
Natasha's lips curve into a fond smile at the sight of you, her worries momentarily pushed aside by your presence.
Chuckling softly, she shakes her head before asking, “Did my mother send you?”
“She wanted me to make sure you wouldn’t be late,” you reply, walking over to her with cautious steps, mindful of your injury.
Leaning back against her desk, you give her a pointed look.
“After all, it’s your last ball as the princess before you become the queen tomorrow.”
Natasha smiles gently at the reminder before glancing down at the area of your dress where she knows the bandages are hiding underneath. Her expression softens with concern as she meets your eyes.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Better,” you assure her. “I’ve been able to move around by myself without any help.”
Standing up, Natasha intertwines her fingers with yours, drawing you closer as she gazes at you.
“You look beautiful,” she compliments softly, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration.
“So do you,” you respond, your hand reaching up to gently brush against her cheek, slowly losing yourself in her gaze.
Then as if remembering your original goal, you clear your throat and nod towards the door.
“We should go. Your mother’s expecting us,” you remind her.
At your suggestion, Natasha moves closer to you, enclosing you between the desk and her body.
“I’m sure we can spare a couple of minutes, can’t we?” she asks, her voice lowering suggestively, caressing the air as she leans in.
Raising a brow skeptically, you tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing hers as you ask, “Only a couple of minutes?”
The moment your lips touch hers, Natasha's eyes darken with desire, her breath catching in her throat.
Absentmindedly humming in agreement, she whispers, “…yeah, just a couple…” before closing the distance between you.
Arriving at the ball later than expected, you and Natasha are greeted by her mother at the entrance, who gives you both a reprimanding yet knowing look.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, offering her a genuinely apologetic expression. “We lost track of time talking.”
Melina raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your explanation.
“No, don’t apologize, Y/n. I’m sure I can guess what happened,” she says, shooting a pointed glare at her daughter before turning her attention back to you.
“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”
You nod in understanding, softly excusing yourself.
Natasha brings the back of your hand up for a gentle kiss goodbye before releasing it, and you turn to leave the two women to their private conversation.
“Hold on, Y/n,” Melina calls out to you before you can go too far.
Stepping up to you, Melina carefully examines you before adjusting the strap of your dress on your shoulder slightly.
“Do try to direct Natasha to a less visible area the next time you two decide to ‘talk’,” she advises with a raised brow.
A flush spreads across your face in realization, and you quickly place your hand atop the area she adjusted, before giving a reprimanding look to Natasha, who looks away, barely concealing the satisfied grin playing on her lips.
You offer a quick, polite thanks before swiftly making your exit, eager to leave the embarrassing situation behind.
Turning back to her daughter, Melina meets her gaze with a raised brow.
“I guess it’s safe to say that your relationship with Y/n is still going well?”
Natasha smiles softly at her observation, her eyes still following you as you go to join the others.
“Yeah, it is,” she replies honestly.
“That’s good,” Melina comments, handing her a cup before taking a sip of her own. “It’s important to show the other nobles how good the two of you are together so that they can have more confidence in the future with you as the ruler.”
Natasha nods in understanding, taking a sip of her drink in preparation for another lecture from her mother.
“Even if your relationship started as a ruse in the beginning,” her mother adds nonchalantly.
Natasha chokes on her drink in surprise at her mother’s words, coughing lightly as she gives her an incredulous look.
Melina raises a brow at her in challenge, daring her to deny her claim.
Looking away, Natasha glances over to where you are, oblivious to you and her arrangement being revealed at the moment.
As if feeling her eyes on you, you glance up, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile. She returns it before returning her focus to her mother.
Knowing there’s no point in trying to convince her mother otherwise, Natasha asks instead, “When did you figure it out?”
“Oh, I’ve had my suspicions since the beginning,” her mother reveals, swirling the contents of her cup in thought as she recalls how the events all started.
“That morning, Y/n mentioned in passing about her meeting with Lady Maria as a potential partner, so I knew I had to do something to make you act.”
Natasha's brows furrow as she pieces together her mother's words with her own memories. She was right to think it was odd that her mother would suddenly take an interest in her love life, especially with such a ridiculous ultimatum given in such a short time.
“Wait, let me get this straight,” Natasha interjects, holding up her hand as she processes the information. “You're saying the only reason you pressured me to find someone was because you found out about Y/n’s date with Lady Maria?”
Melina nods before offering Natasha a sympathetic pat on her back.
“Let’s be honest, Natasha, you can be quite oblivious when it comes to your feelings for Y/n. I only pushed you to pay more attention to your love life because I didn’t want you to miss your chance with her.”
“No, you said that if I didn’t find someone, you were going to choose someone for me,” Natasha reminds her mother, her tone tinged with frustration.
Melina waves her hand dismissively.
“I was confident that you would come up with something before it ever got to that point, and you did. This charade that the two of you concocted worked out much better in the end, wouldn’t you agree?”
Natasha gapes at her mother, blinking in disbelief. She pinches her brows, feeling a headache forming at her mother’s antics.
“Please, go meddle with someone else's love life,” Natasha pleads, her patience wearing thin.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Natasha,” she says, chuckling, before pressing on, undeterred by her daughter's exasperation. “Now, tell me, have you thought of a plan on how to propose to Y/n yet?”
Meanwhile, after leaving Natasha with her mother, you join the pair at one side of the ballroom. Stepping in front of the twins with a warm smile, you admire their new formal clothing that you had arranged for them to attend the event.
“Well, don’t you two look beautiful and dashing?” you compliment, ruffling Pietro’s hair playfully. He swats at your hand lightly with a pout, then tugs at the collar of his shirt.
“I think you and Wanda are just trying to choke me in this,” he comments.
A red mist envelopes his topmost button and undoes it, granting him some relief.
“Better?” Wanda asks, returning her hand to cross her arms at her brother’s exaggerated behavior.
“Yes, I can actually breathe now,” Pietro responds with a teasing smirk, nudging his sister in thanks.
At the corner of your eye, you notice some nobles nearby shooting disapproving glares at your group, their attention mostly focused on Wanda, and then they begin to speak to each other, their voices intentionally loud.
“So disgraceful that they allow such people in here.”
“Did you see her eyes? They say it’s red like a demon.”
Pietro scowls at their words, moving protectively in front of his sister, but you stop him before he could confront them.
Then placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder, you check up on her. She gives you a reassuring smile, truly unbothered by their harsh words.
You’re glad to see her adjusting okay to the fact that her powers are now known by others in the kingdom.
Still, you will not stand idly and let them talk about people you care about like that. The twins may not be in a position to say anything, but you can always defend and protect them.
Before you can confront the rude nobles, however, they are suddenly pushed off balance, stumbling to the ground, as the pair of canines rush through their legs towards you.
Their respective owners follow swiftly after them, with the younger princess giving the people a glare and challenging look, causing them to avert their gaze in embarrassment, looking elsewhere.
Yelena turns to your group with a satisfied grin.
“Don’t mind them, Wanda. They’re always judging everyone,” she says.
Kate nods in agreement, adding, “Yeah, intolerant people like them are not worth your time. There’s plenty of people in the kingdom who already know you’re amazing.”
Pietro chuckles and places his hand atop his sister’s head teasingly, remarking, “Careful with the compliments now, we wouldn’t want her getting a big head.”
Wanda rolls her eyes in response, shoving his arm off and commenting pointedly, “Your head is already big enough for the both of us.”
As the four of them continue their playful conversations, your eyes spot a familiar face hovering in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom.
Excusing yourself, you make your way over to the lone captain.
“Not one for parties?” you ask as you step up next to Bucky.
He sighs and shakes his head as he observes the surrounding guests joyfully engaged in celebration.
“It’s been a while since I attended events like these, but then again, I’ve never enjoyed them before anyway,” he admits.
Curious about something that you’ve been wondering about him, you finally ask.
“Why did you decide to come to this kingdom? You know, after hiding away for so long.”
A silence follows, and just as you think he’s going to leave your question unanswered, he finally responds, nodding toward the distance.
“To visit a friend.”
You follow Bucky’s gaze and realize he’s looking at Steve, who’s currently in conversation with Clint and Maria.
As if feeling your eyes, Steve glances up toward your direction, giving you two a welcoming smile and waving his hand in invitation.
A small smile forms on Bucky’s face, surprising you, and you find yourself asking curiously, “Then why not just stay? Enjoy life without constantly looking over your shoulder for danger and having to run away.”
He chuckles ruefully, giving you a look of disbelief.
“I’m the most wanted criminal of the Stark Kingdom. Nowhere is safe for me or for those who help me.”
“Well, at least consider the option,” you say, nudging him gently and giving him a pointed look. “Because you do have more than one friend here.”
He examines you carefully before giving you a silent, noncommittal nod, and you understand that this will be the most you’ll get from him.
“Y/n!��
At the call of your name, you turn to see Carol coming towards you. As you turn back around to excuse yourself, you're not surprised to find Bucky has sneaked away.
Carol stops in front of you, the happy smile fading slightly into a serious expression as she examines you critically.
"How are you feeling?" she asks with genuine concern.
The familiarity in her question makes you laugh lightly as you shake your head.
“You and Natasha. Why do you two keep asking me that?”
Carol raises an amused brow at you.
"It's because we both care about you, Y/n," she answers softly before tilting her head in thought.
"Maybe the fact we both like the same things is why we're always competing with each other," she muses aloud before extending her hand in invitation.
"Speaking of, would you like to join me for one dance before Natasha decides to keep you all to herself?"
You give her a playful warning look, raising your brow at her.
"No extravagant twirling, lifts, or dips?" you ask, knowing her tendencies.
Carol nods in reassurance, answering firmly, "I promise."
As she leads you in a slow dance, keeping an easy pace to avoid tiring you, you seize the moment to ask her something.
“Are you leaving after the coronation tomorrow?”
Carol nods in confirmation.
“That’s the plan,” she responds. “I want to do as much exploring as I can before my own coronation.”
A tiny, sad smile forms on your face at Carol's words. You've honestly missed her since she started her travels. Poking her pointedly, you give her a serious expression.
"Still, you should come visit more often," you tell her.
Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small nod.
“For you, I will,” she says, a hint of affection slipping into her tone. "If you ever need anything, Y/n, just let me know, and I’ll have my ship practically fly back to you."
Her eyes glance at something behind you before she shrugs, adding with a sigh, “And I guess the same applies to Natasha if she ever needs my help again.”
“How generous,” Natasha remarks dryly, her voice tinged with sarcasm, as she comes to a stop beside you.
Carol gives you a small bow in thanks, her expression teasing as she remarks, “Looks like my time’s up.”
“Natasha,” she greets, giving her an acknowledging nod.
Natasha returns the sentiment, her demeanor cool as she replies, “Carol.”
Carol gives you one last smile, before pressing a chaste kiss on your hand goodbye and whispering sincerely, “Be happy, Y/n.”
As she leaves, you glance at Natasha and notice the small displeased pout on her face.
Unable to resist teasing her, you nudge her gently, remarking, “Jealousy looks cute on you.”
Natasha huffs in disbelief at your statement before offering her hand to you.
“May I have a dance?”
As Natasha leads you in a slow dance, you can’t help but feel nostalgic, leaning your head against her shoulder.
“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” you ask softly.
Natasha hums in agreement and nods against you, responding, “Last time we danced like this, we decided to be a couple.”
You chuckle at the memory, reminiscing about how clueless you were back then, never imagining how things would turn out for the two of you.
The soft music creates a serene atmosphere, cocooning you and Natasha in your own world, away from everyone else.
Recalling the details of your original agreement, you meet Natasha’s eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in your gaze.
“You know, according to our deal, our fake relationship is supposed to end after your coronation tomorrow,” you point out.
Natasha raises an intrigued eyebrow, curious about your intentions.
“So, what should we do about that then?” she asks, her tone playful.
You tilt your head, pretending to ponder before flashing her a teasing smirk.
“Didn’t we agree that if anything were to happen between us, it would be the princess who confessed her feelings first?”
Understanding dawns on Natasha’s face, and she grins in agreement, a fond smile playing on her lips.
“Y/n,” she begins softly, her gaze filled with affection. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were amazing…then I learned that you were really stubborn.”
You roll your eyes at her teasing, but Natasha just chuckles before continuing.
“But you're also kind and smart. And truly the strongest person I know.”
She leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours.
“My heart and my life have always been yours, Y/n.”
You feel warmth spreading through your chest at her confession, and you can’t help but cup her face gently with your hands.
“You’re my best friend,” Natasha continues, her voice barely above a whisper as she covers your hand with hers. “But I would be honored if you are willing to have me as more than that.”
Your heart swells with love, and you nod happily as you respond.
"I want that too, Natasha," you whisper sincerely. “I want to continue to stay by your side and be yours too. Always.”
With those words of promise, Natasha closes the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.
The sound of cheers and applause surrounds you, but you pay no mind, lost in the moment with Natasha.
You don’t know what the future holds, but you’re not afraid. As long as you’re together, you know you can overcome anything that comes your way.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Epilogue
In another kingdom, far away, inside one of the workshops of the castle, the king’s assistant waits patiently by the doorway for a pause in the king’s pastime of tinkering.
“What’s the matter, Jarvis?” Tony Stark asks without looking up from his careful concentration.
“A letter arrived for you, sir.”
“Is it about the next shipment of parts?”
“No, sir, this came from a nobleman in the Romanov Kingdom.”
“Oh…you can just toss it in the fire then.”
There’s an awkward silence as his assistant makes no move to do as he asked, causing Tony to glance up in question.
The assistant hesitates before explaining.
“Counselor Potts strongly advised us not to do that anymore, under the warning of severe punishment should she find out. Also, the messenger stressed that the contents pertain to an urgent matter.”
Tony stops and furrows his brow. After the war and the deaths of his whole family, he preferred to keep contact between the kingdoms to a minimum. Just because there’s a peace treaty between them doesn’t mean he has to like or care about anyone there.
On the other hand, facing the wrath of his most trusted advisor for ignoring this letter is not something he wants to deal with in the foreseeable future.
“Just leave it on the table then,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes.
If anything, it’s probably more news about the coronation of their upcoming queen. He’s already sent his decline to attend the event and a decent enough congratulations present that Pepper picked out.
He doesn’t understand why they can’t just keep the indifferent relationship between the two kingdoms as is instead trying to make them into something closer.
Shaking his head as Jarvis closes the door behind him, Tony attempts to return to his flow of concentration, picking up his tools as he continues to tinker with the parts in front of him.
Unfortunately, as time passes, his eyes keep glancing at the letter sitting in the corner, something about it gives him some sort of unnerving feeling.
Slumping with a resigned sigh that he can’t keep his focus anymore, he places his tools down again and swipes at the letter, sitting at the edge of the table.
Opening it, he skims the contents quickly before his posture suddenly straightens with tension, his expression turning serious.
The door of the workshop slams open, and Tony strides out purposefully, calling to his assistant.
“Jarvis!”
They are at his side in an instant, following him and listening for the next orders.
“Tell Vision to prepare the carriages and let Pepper know I’ll be away a bit for some business.”
“Yes, sir. May I ask where you will be traveling to?”
“The Romanov Kingdom,” Tony answers, glancing at the letter in his hand before tightening his fist, crumpling the paper slightly.
“Looks like it’s time to pay this new queen a visit after all.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion
a/n: Thank you to everyone for reading all the way to the end of this series! (especially this long chapter) It's been a journey, and I'm happy that many of you enjoyed it and showed up for every update (all of your comments and reactions are so sweet and fun to read and honestly helped to keep me motivated).
This is the final part of the series, but it's not the end yet. There will be a sequel for Boundless Devotion, and it's called Everlasting Devotion (title mention in prequel Fateful Encounter 🤗).
I’m still in the middle of working on it, so the first chapter is not going to be released right away since I also want to finish some other one shots that I‘ve been working on and maybe take a little break.
That being said, for those currently in the taglist for Boundless Devotion and anyone else who's interested, if you also want to be added in the taglist for when the sequel starts, please let me know.
(I prefer to ask again just in case instead of just assuming and forcing you along on another series that you didn't sign up for)
Again, thank you to all of you for reading!
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#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fanfic#black widow x reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff
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To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)
Chapter 1: This child needs me
[part 0, here]
CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)
Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.
If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.
Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.
It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.
And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.
She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.
He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.
Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.
(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?
Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."
Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."
(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.
It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.
Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."
The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.
Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.
It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.
"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.
Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."
The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.
"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.
"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?
The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.
It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"
".. No."
".. Are you a boy?"
sigh "No."
"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"
(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.
"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.
He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"
The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).
"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"
"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."
(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"
"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.
"I think I'll prefer Mom."
They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?
"Do you know what I am?"
Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?
Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"
"What is that?"
"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"
(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'
His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"
"Six."
Older than I thought..
(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.
An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.
"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.
His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.
"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"
"Ye-"
"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"
He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?
Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"
"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.
The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"
"No."
"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"
The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."
"Any medical issues I should know about?"
"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.
"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"
The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?
No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.
"I do."
Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"
The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"
"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.
He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"
It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.
"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"
"Look are what she's wearing-"
"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"
"Still I think-"
"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."
The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.
"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."
"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."
"Someone you could call..?"
"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.
Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?
Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."
"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."
"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.
(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."
The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.
It was peculiar.
Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.
This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.
Avery was clinging to (Reader).
#platonic yandere#platonic yandere x reader#yandere x reader#monster reader#gn reader#fem reader#yandere family#parent reader
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okay but it's the fact that CQL is in large part about what you would sacrifice for the people you love, and in almost every other instance in the show, that sacrifice is portrayed as, if not necessarily the Right decision, at the very least evidence of fundamental goodness. the Yunmeng trio, Wen Qing for her brother and Nie Mingjue for his (Fatal Journey counts 100%), Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, they make difficult choices for love and that makes them Good even if it doesn't make them happy.
and then there's Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang. whose identities are so fundamentally wrapped up in being His Mother's Son and The Little Brother, respectively, and they are so singularly devoted to the legacy of their relative that they will continue to fight for it long after death. they will sacrifice others in a heartbeat. they will lie, they will scheme, they will cause others pain. they will endure humiliation after humiliation. they will put on a persona that makes their true selves unrecognizable even to the people who know them best. ultimately they will sacrifice their own morality, their own goodness, in a way that would probably horrify the people in whose names they make this sacrifice.
I am falling asleep and these are random disjointed thoughts but other things that drive me feral about them is:
the backstory CQL gives, Meng Yao being at the Unclean Realm for (?) a length of time, and allll the visual signifiers of a close, basically familial relationship between them
(I know fanon likes to talk about "the Nie braids" as a sect-wide thing but they ARE NOT. they are a HUAISANG AND MINGJUE AND MENG YAO THING. litcherally no other Nie disciple wears them, not even Nie Zonghui! that's so significant!)
CQL/FJ leaning hard into the suggestion of the brothers being more or less on their own, very little discussion of their parents, leaving room to lean into the idea of NMJ fulfilling a parental role as well as a brotherly one, and the parallel between him and Meng Shi being even stronger
the final flashback to Meng Yao and Meng Shi, and how it's framed to suggest that as coming from Huiasang--a cherished memory Meng Yao passed on to him?
I've seen this floated around on tumblr before, about how it's very likely that Jin Guangyao underestimated the depth of Huaisang's love for his brother, based on how his love manifests as overachieving. so that moment of revelation in the temple being not just "oh, you're the one who was behind this the whole time" but "oh, you and I have this same sickness, this same depth of feeling."
the character songs. I'm obsessed with them. the fact that Jin Guangyao's is a constant litany of questions, uncertainty, revolving around "How many people are willing to know your true face?", while the Nie brothers' song has their relationship as this unshakeable foundation, to the point that they're the only two characters represented by one vocalist. the Unclean Realm being unquestionably "a place of deep love" and the only uncertainty being "when will we see each other again?"
(...and that being answered in part by the title, the repeated use of farewell with connotations of permanence. Huaisang defying death, wanting his brother back in any form possible, while Jin Guangyao literally meets his doom because he is so concerned about earning his mother an easier time in her next life.)
mutual obsession over Nie Mingjue. Meng Yao keeping his head in his treasure room. there are lots of jokes about how LXC is left out of the get-along coffin, but can we talk about the fact that Huaisang sacrificed his moral compass, the reputation of his sect, the life of a troubled teenager, and 10+ years of his life all so he could free his brother's mutilated body from Jin Guangyao's clutches... and at the end of it all, Jin Guangyao is the one who will be with him for eternity?
in conclusion: I love them, your honor.
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