#great gatsby Au

[birdie123au]

The Green Light

pairing: leon s. kennedy x reader, leon s. kennedy x ada wong

Great Gatsby AU (unrequited love, not actually requited love, angst w/ happy ending)

Amid the glamour and tension of university life, you finds yourself falling deeply for Leon Kennedy, a friend whose heart seems forever entangled with the alluring but unreachable Ada Wong. As Leon's obsession leads him down a path of self-destruction, you struggle to hide your feelings, hoping he'll finally notice the love and loyalty you've always had for him. In the wake of a life-changing accident, Leon is forced to confront who or what truly matters.

When you were younger, your father had sat you down on his lap and told you that wealth is an unimaginably powerful thing. When you’re offered chances in life, you best believe you should take them . What to a child was the concept of “wealth”? You used to imagine it was a giant room in the back of some new-money mansion filled with enormous piles of gold stacking higher than the eye could see. You came from humble origins. Your father, a midwestern farmer, had taken pride in what he referred to as ��honest work”. Some of your fondest memories of your youth had been sitting on the wooden porch swing in your backyard watching your father drive his tractor through the fields. Your mother, the daughter of a banker from Georgia, would come through the creaky screen door and remind you to come inside before you overheated. Her southern draw on the word “burn” would stick in your mind many years after you left that old farm of yours.

Telling your parents you wanted to move to Racoon City to pursue your degree came as a shock. You had spent your entire life in your small, rural town. Your mother opposed the idea of moving to such a large city, stating that there was no way you would survive such a large change. Your father simply shook his head before placing his hand on your mother’s thighs. With that she conceded. 

The drive into Rockefeller College, one of the most prestigious universities in the midwest, felt like driving into an alternate universe. Sitting in the back of your father’s pick up truck, your mother verbally recounted her disgust with seeing the number of Teslas or Range Rovers that were lined up by the curb. You were immediately reminded of your status: a country bumpkin with a full ride scholarship. The move into your dorm was no better. Your roommate, a girl named Mikayla, was the daughter of a wealthy family from the northeast. Her half of the room had already been set up by the time you set your foot in the door. Her minimalist, sad-beige aesthetic would certainly look dull compared to what your mother referred to as the ‘90s bedroom’ look you were going for. Mikayla was a sweet girl, but the moment she suggested you should all grab lunch at Machiavelli’s Steak and Winery you were immediately made aware of a key difference between the two of you.

Saying goodbye to your parents was the hardest part of all. Your mother sobbed, holding you tightly as though she would never see you again. Your father simply patted you on the head before grabbing hold of your mother’s hand, leading the two of them out of your new home. After coming to a consensus on a more affordable place to eat lunch, you and Mikayla stepped into the hallway of your dorm, waving hello to your new neighbors. As you entered the elevator, you noticed you had the company of two young men, most likely new students from the floor above. 

“Hey,” said the taller of the two men, “My name is Chris.”

“Hi!” Mikayla said happily, “I’m Mikayla and this is Y/N, we're roommates.”

Chris nodded his head politely. “I’m Piers, we’re roommates too,” he said with a smile as he pointed at Chris.

“You both headed to lunch?” you asked. 

“Yeah, we were thinking about checking out the dining hall, but there's a good deli down the street that looks pretty good,” said Chris.

“No way!” Mikayla shouted, “McEvan’s? We’re headed there too.”

Chris laughed, “Awesome.”

———————————————————————————————————————

The conversation amongst the four of you at McEvan’s had been polite small talk. Lots of What’s your major? Where are you from? and What classes are you taking this semester?

By the time your meal was served, a patty melt with no tomato, you had moved onto slightly less general topics such as extracurriculars and hobbies. It was then that you and Chris discovered a shared love of horror games, psychological ones in particular. 

“Did you bring a console here?” Chris asked, taking a bite of his chicken wing. 

You laughed. “Fuck no, Mikayla and I have such a small room. We’re next to the RA. We can barely fit two beds and a desk in there.”

“That sucks,” he said, “You should totally swing by our place at some point. I brought my PS5.”

“I brought my Wii,” Piers chimed in, “We could play Mario Kart together or something.”

You noticed how Mikayla’s eyes lit up as soon as Piers seemed to be on board. “We’ll definitely be there,” she said, “If there's nothing else going on tonight we could definitely stop by.”

“What else would be going on?” Piers asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“Functions, bro,” Chris nudged his roommate, “And you’re right, there's not going to be any going on during orientation. Once the upperclassmen get here though, that's another story.”

“Are the parties here good then?” you asked.

“You have no idea,” Chris responded with a smile, “A family friend of mine goes here– she says that's the reason she loves it so much.”

Later that night you and Mikayla did exactly as you– well she said. The four of you crowded around Chris’s surprisingly large TV, dressed in pajamas and eating greasy popcorn, watching intently as he played the Silent Hill Two remake. Each time there would be a scary scene, Mikayla would cling to your arm with a scream. You had spent a total of four hours in the boys’ room that night. 

Your group of friends established a routine during orientation week. You would wake up, go to the dining hall for breakfast, go to whatever orientation lecture was required for the morning, eat lunch under the giant fruit tree, attend the afternoon lectures, eat dinner as a group, and then go to Chris and Piers’s room to play video or watch shows until midnight. You were lucky, you thought, to have found such a good group of friends so early on into school. 

When you told your mom on the phone about your friends, she was very proud of you, saying how lucky you were to have a great friendship with your roommate. The summer leading up to school, she would often tell you about her nightmare roommate freshman year, and how she nearly transferred from the University of Alabama. However, as a traditional southern lady, she was slightly alarmed by the fact that two of your closest friends were men. You assured her you had zero interest in either of them, but Mikayla? You weren’t so sure. 

“Well I’m not worried,” your mother said, sounding worried, “Just make sure you pick a good one, okay?”

“Yes ma,” you rolled your eyes.

“I love you, hunny,” she said.

“I love you too.”

———————————————————————————————————————

Just as Chris said, by the time orientation week ended and the upperclassmen arrived, campus life went from dull and boring to bustling and bright. However, instead of going to a function, you found yourself in the backseat of an uber driving thirty minutes off campus across the river and into the suburbs of Raccoon City. 

Chris had talked all week about taking your friend group to meet his family friend, Ada Wong. She was a junior meaning she was allowed to live off campus with her fiance, Albert Wesker. You spent a majority of the car ride trying to recall where you had heard the name “Wesker” before. By the time you arrived at the lavish, Greco-Roman style mansion, you remembered. Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the largest pharmaceutical company in America, was owned by the prosperous, old-money Wesker family. You were shocked Chris had such a strong connection, but when you remembered how his last name was Redfield, as in Redfield Properties, you understood. 

“This place is huge!” Mikayla said as you pulled into the circular driveway with a large water fountain in the middle, “I can’t believe you can live in this area as a college student.”

She then turned to the three of you, “Hey, if there's any housing available, we should rent one as a group for our junior and senior years!”

Chris and Piers laughed, nodding their heads. You laughed too, but for different reasons.

When you arrived at the front door, there was no one to greet you. Instead, Chris simply opened the door, motioning you all to follow. The interior was grand and luxurious, straight out of a bourgeoisie home owners magazine your mom used to have lying around the house when you were little. You tried to hide your astonishment but your mouth was agape. Mikayla laughed, closing your jaw with her hand. 

“Come on!” she whispered to you, “We’re having roast goose, apparently. I want to sit next to Piers!”

The two of you ran through the house while holding hands before finally catching up to Chris and Piers. If you thought the inside of the house was luxurious, you were sorely unprepared to see the backyard. Flower, trees, and marble statues created one of the most beautiful gardens you had ever seen. Chris led you all to the pool, larger than your bedroom, that had floating lilies and flowers. Next to the pool was a dining area underneath a series of marble columns. Behind it all was what looked to be a greenhouse with someone standing inside.

“Chris?” you heard a distinctly feminine voice call out, “Is that you?”

“Yup, it's us,” he responded, “Here, follow me guys.”

The greenhouse was filled with beautiful, tall plants. The floors were a light birch tile with a floral design scattered throughout. Each of the walls was made entirely from a slightly tinted green glass. When you finally got to the center of the room, you saw her.

Ada Wong was absolutely gorgeous. Although she was sat, you could tell she was a tall, slender beauty. Her black hair was cut and styled into a perfect face-framing bob. Her porcelain skin was flawless and her makeup was light and airy. The justs of wind from the open windows caused her red dress to swirl and flutter through the air. It reminded you of that one Marilyn Monroe photo. When you made eye contact, she smiled.

“Chris,” she stood up, the sound of her red-bottom heels hitting the tile floor echoed in the room, “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” he said, pulling her into a hug, “Mrs. Wesker.”

She laughed, you couldn’t miss how her voice was slightly strained. “And you must be Chris’s little friend group. Let me guess… Piers, Mikayla, and Y/N.”

Ada pointed to each of you as she spoke, correctly guessing the order of your names. 

“Yup, that's me,” Piers joked, “It's nice to finally meet you.”

Ada hugged Piers before turning to you and Mikayla.

“Aren’t the two of you beautiful,” she said, “It always warms my heart to see such smart young women.”

Mikayla didn’t miss a beat and went in for a hug. Eventually Ada turned to you, pulling you into a soft embrace. She smelled like expensive perfume. She smelled expensive.  

“Now, you four, come with me,” Ada said, “The duck should be served soon. It would be a crime to eat it cold.”

When the sun set and the meal was served, the backyard was lit with beautiful, warm lighting. Albert Wesker had finally made his appearance. Your first impression of him was that he was… odd. Smart, rich, and successful, no doubt, but something about him rubbed you the wrong way. Firstly, he wore sunglasses at night. Secondly, he was dressed as if he was about to go on a spy mission. And finally, he was harsh with his words.

“So,” said Albert, “What do you kids plan on majoring in? I know you mentioned pre-med, Chris, how about the rest of you?”

“Public Health,” said Piers, giving a polite smile to Albert. He then turned to Mikayla, who got her wish and was sitting right next to Piers.

“I’m thinking Art History,” she said, “Maybe Literature, I’m not too sure.”

All eyes then turned to you. “Economics,” you said.

Albert smirked, “How ambitious.”

The conversation continued but you couldn’t help but feel Albert Wesker’s condescension in his reply. It felt the same as when you told your counselor you would be applying for Rockefeller University. Amused but insulting. Other than that, you thought that dinner had been going relatively well. 

That is, until Albert’s phone suddenly began to ring. Miranda Psych Class was the name of the contact that appeared on the phone. Chris’s smile dropped and Ada’s face went from jovial to disappointed.

“Excuse me while I take this,” Albert said.

“You should really stay,” Ada pleaded, standing up to grasp her fiance’s arm, “It would be rude to leave our company. If it's about class you can tell her to text you about it later.”

Albert yanked his shoulder, effectively escaping Ada’s grasp. “I said excuse me while I take this fucking call, Ada.”

Your eyebrows shot up at his words. Mikayla dropped her spoon in shock. Piers choked on his bite of food. Chris then stood up from his seat, stepping a mere couple of inches away from Albert.

Just like that Albert declined the call and sat down. Not without intentionally scoffing at Ada and Chris. 

“I don’t have time for your antics, Redfield,” he said, “Now sit down and enjoy your dessert.”

Chris rolled his eyes, his face a mix of anger and disgust, but he nevertheless obliged. Ada said nothing. She sat down, taking a large sip of her red wine.

The six of you attempted to enjoy the rest of your meal in peace. Still, it was hard to ignore the invisible seventh attendee, as Albert’s phone would not stop ringing for the rest of dinner.

———————————————————————————————————————

“Should I wear the white top or the pink one?” Mikayla asked you, holding both options out for you to see.

“I like the pink one,” you said, “The crop is cuter.”

“Piers?” Mikayla turned around to where the boys were sitting on her bed, “What do you think?”

Piers looked up from his phone, slightly flustered as he looked at Mikayla who was in nothing but her underwear and bra. “Umm, I agree with Y/N, the pink is good.”

“Awesome!” Mikayla cheered, “I’m assuming you think the same, Chris?”

Chris threw her a thumbs up without ever looking up from his phone. The four of you were getting ready for your first college party. The dinner party the night before had been awkward. The four of you hadn’t spoken much about it. You, Chris, and Piers had already been dressed for the past twenty minutes, and had spent the rest of the time attempting to help Mikayla choose her outfit. Piers had used his fake to buy you all some liquor and pomegranate juice. You were sipping on it now.

“I still can’t believe you bought Smirnoff,” said Chris, “I mean really man? Do you want us to be hung over tomorrow?”

“How was I supposed to know it was shitty vodka!” Piers threw his arms up in defense.

Mikayla laughed. “Just buy Tito's next time or something.”

“So where exactly are we going again?” you asked, taking another sip from your drink.

“We’re going to Rutherford Hall,” he replied, “Kennedy’s hosting.”

“This better be as good as you’re saying it's gonna be,” Piers said, making a disgusted face after he drank another sip of his drink, “Or I’m gonna be disappointed.”

“Trust me,” Chris said, “Kennedy hosts the best parties. Like actual parties too, there's gonna be dancers and a whole bar and shit. He’s got a pool table too!”

“Bro, we better play tonight,” Piers said.

“Obviously,” said Chris, “Once we get there, we’re going shot for shot.”

“Count me in!” Mikayla said.

“So is this Kennedy guy famous or something?” you asked.

“Pretty much,” Chris replied, “He owns basically all of Rutherford Hall. Dude’s loaded. He’s one of Ada’s friends from high school I think.”

“Guys!” Mikayla cried, “The Uber’s almost here, we should start heading down stairs.”

With that the guys got off the bed, Piers helped you to your feet.

“Cool,” you said, “I wanna meet him. Think you can point him out to me?”

Chris laughed as he opened your dorm door. “Hell no. I’ve never even met the dude. He’s like a mystery.”

“I like mysteries,” you said softly.

———————————————————————————————————————

Rutherford Hall was one of the off campus housing options still in the city. From your understanding, it was owned by a small group of frat boys who had enough money to afford such expensive housing. The dorm looked more like a classic New England style home. White painted wood, large shutters, and large white columns, it was beautiful and ginormous. The lawn was filled with college kids dressed in short skirts, crop tops, shorts, and polo shirts. 

Stepping inside to the home transported you into a stereotypical movie about the 1920s. Dancers dressed in tiny little outfits were scattered across the main foyer. In the kitchen was a makeshift bar being manned by an actual bar tender. Judging by the amount of good quality alcohol that was being offered for free, this Kennedy guy had money to throw away. The four of you each grabbed a shot of quality vodka, downing it on three. 

“Yo, Redfield!” cried a voice from behind your group, “The rest of the teams out back.”

Chris was on the rugby team, no surprise there, but you haven't seen him spend much time with them outside of practice. Chris gave you all an apologetic look.

“I’ll be back, guys,” he said, “I’m just gonna go say hi.”

“No worries, man,” said Piers, “Do you guys wanna go explore?”

“Um, obviously!” Mikayla said, clearly starting to get drunk, “First let's take another shot.”

“Say less,” you laughed.

As the shots continued to pour, the three of you grew more and more wasted. You swayed to the beat, feeling warm and drowsy. In your intoxicated state, you had hardly noticed Chris hadn’t come back in over forty five minutes. Mikayla and Piers became more touchy as time went on. They were your friends and you loved them, but God did they have to do that in front of you?

“I’m-uh gonna go pee…” you said, “Don’t miss me too much!”

“I love you!” Mikayla shouted.

“Love you too,” you smiled, “You too Piers. You’re m-my homeboy for real.”

Piers laughed, his hands still tangled in Mikayla’s hair. You stumbled across the first floor, searching intensely for a bathroom. When you finally found a single stall one, it had a line longer than a Disney ride. You rolled your eyes, dramatically pivoting the other direction. 

“Um– excuse me,” you shouted over the music, tugging at the end of a frat boy’s Alpha Sigma Tau tank top, “Where is the bathroom? With no long line?”

The frat boy pointed up the stairs. “Third floor on the left!”

“Thank you!” you said, swaying back and forth as you climbed your way up the stairs.

By the time you made it back down to where you had left Piers and Mikayla, they were gone.

“Well fucking damn it,” you cursed aloud.

In your dismay of being abandoned at your first frat party, you overhear some people talking about how the fireworks were about to start.

“Fireworks?” you drunkenly whispered to yourself, “What kind of frat party is this?”

You walked outside onto the quartz terrace. It was filled with people shouting, socializing, and staring up at the sky. You tried your best to push to the front of the terrace that overlooked the rest of the giant backyard. Leaning the front of your body against the pole, you sighed.

“You doing alright there, old sport?” you heard a low, smooth voice say.

“Huh?” you turned, finding yourself face-to-face with a young man, “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Well that wasn’t too convincing,” he laughed, “Your face looks familiar, you don’t happen to have any connection to the Midwestern Farming Association, do you?”

Your eyes widened as a mix of surprise and recognition hit. “Yes, I do. My father’s been a member for years.”

“I thought so,” he replied with a gentle smile, “My father was too, before he passed. I used to go to the yearly showcases as a kid. We must have run into each other, huh?”

“I guess so,” you said, smiling back “That’s so crazy– you must have an amazing memory.”

As you took him in, you realized just how striking he was: his sandy blond hair, the way his blue eyes held yours with an intensity that felt deliberate. He was watching you with a kind of careful attentiveness, his smile perfectly polite yet warm enough to make your cheeks feel a little too warm.

“I’m Leon, by the way. Leon Kennedy,” he said suddenly, catching you off guard.

“What!” you exclaimed, “I’m sorry– wow. You’re the ‘Kennedy’ everyones been talking about all night.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought you had known. Guess I’m not a very good host after all.”

“Well, Leon ,” you said, placing special emphasis onto his name, “This is some place you’ve got. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, umm?” he responded, unsure of how to address you, “How did you find out about it? Assuming you didn’t just overhear someone else talk about it.”

“Y/N,” you said with a laugh, “And no, I actually heard about it from one of my friends. His name is Chris Redfield, apparently he has some upperclassman friend who goes here. She might be here tonight, who knows.”

“Chris Redfield?” Leon asked, shock evident in his voice, “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Ada Wong, would you?”

“Yes, oh my gosh!” you said, “Wow, this is so crazy! I can’t believe you know her too.”

“Did you see her tonight?” he continued.

“No, not tonight,” you said, “But we had dinner with her and Albert Wesker yesterday.”

Any ounce of excitement in his face fell. “I see.”

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard Mikayla’s unmistakable voice holler at you, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere! We’re headed home– Chris was playing beer pong and broke the table! We gotta go!”

“I’m sorry,” you turned to Leon, who began to laugh again, “I should get going.”

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing your arm as you turned to leave, “Y/N, can I have your phone number?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

And so you scribbled your phone number in your sloppy, drunken state onto his arm with a sharpie from his back pocket.

———————————————————————————————————————

The next weekend, you were back at Rutherford Hall. Another party hosted by the infamous Kennedy.

The atmosphere of the party was buzzing: people laughing, music blasting, cheers from the crowds gathered around the various pool tables and countertops. You were already a few drinks deep, feeling an increased amount of courage and confidence. Leon was sitting at the bar. You had no doubt that half of the people sitting around him had no clue they were that close to the host of such a lavish college party.

“Wow, Mr. Kennedy sitting by himself at the bar,” you said, tapping him on the shoulder, “I didn’t take you for the quiet type.” 

Leon chuckled, motioning you to sit beside him. His eyes had a gleam of mischief. “I can do loud,” he said, “I just don’t want to make too much of a scene.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid to embarrass yourself,” you said with amusement, “I’ll have a vodka cran please.”

Leon raised his hand, signaling the bartender to hold off on making the drink. “I’ve never been embarrassed a day in my life.”

“Oh really?” you leaned in, lowering your voice, “Then why are you standing here all by yourself trying to look mysterious?”

“I’m not mysterious,” he said, “I’m just trying to enjoy the view at my own house, so watch it, freshman.”

“I was talking about the party, not me,” you placed your hands on your hips and gave them an obviously exaggerated shake. Leon laughed, though it was hard to tell if it was out of genuine amusement or pity in your heavily drunken state.

“Fair enough,” he said. 

“I don’t get it,” you said with a sudden shift in tone, “For a person who's always throwing large parties, you seem like you don’t like large parties. Like at all.”

“Would you want to go somewhere more private to continue this conversation?” he asked, “It’s getting a little loud in here.”

“Okay, but no more bullshit, Leon,” you said, “I want to know your truth.”

“Deal.”

The two of you walked through the crowd, a fair amount of distance between you. As you weasled your way through the tight spaces you prayed that you wouldn’t run into your group of friends. This conversation was about to get a whole lot more interesting and you wanted to hear every last bit of it. Leon ended up bringing you through the entire backyard to the dock. It overlooked the river that surrounded Racoon City. 

“So, what’s your deal?” you said.

“My what?” he responded.

“Your deal,” you affirmed.

“I know, I’m just kidding,” he laughed at his own joke, “I think it's because of people like you.”

You raised your brows in confusion. “What?”

“Why I host these things,” he said, “You’re the type of person that makes things more interesting without even trying.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re quite the charmer, Kennedy?” you said, “Can I ask you something a bit more personal?”

He nodded his head. “Why do you always ask so much about Ada Wong?”

“I figured you’d ask that sooner or later,” he said, “Ada– well, she’s complicated.”

“Hey!” you playfully punched his arm, “I said no bullshit. That answer is total bullshit.”

He chuckled, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of resignation. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Ada and I go way back—she’s... she was important to me.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. “Do you see that light? The green one across the bay?”

You squinted your eyes. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“That’s her house right there,” he said, “She’s over there. So close but… always out of reach.”

“So that’s what all of this is for, huh?” you asked softly. “These parties, the constant crowd, the noise. It’s all just... a way to reach her?”

He gave a slight nod, then looked back at you, his gaze steady. “I thought maybe she’d show up one day, or maybe that someone in her orbit would walk in and give me some kind of sign.” His tone softened, and he chuckled, though it sounded almost bitter. “But maybe all of this– maybe I'm just trying to find someone who actually sees me, who’s here because they want to be.”

“Damn that’s… sadder than I thought it would be,” you said, staring at the green light, “But it makes sense, I think. It’s caring and Ada deserves someone like that.”

The two of you remained silent, gazing at the mansion across the bay. Ada was Leon’s green light. So where did that leave you?

———————————————————————————————————————

The library was quiet. You, Chris, Piers, and Mikayla were sitting at a table for four, each working on your own independent work. You were attempting to finish writing a paper for your Introduction to Early European History, but the constant sound of your phone buzzing was distracting you.

*Buzz

“Is he still texting you?” Mikayla asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah,” you said, trying not to smile as you picked up your phone again .

“Block him,” she said.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because all he does is ask about Ada,” she said, before moving closer to you and lowering her voice, “And you clearly like him. It’s not healthy.”

“I do not,” you said, “Besides, I’m trying to play matchmaker. Wesker is a dick and Ada deserves better.”

“You heard what Chris said,” she responded, “It’s not your choice to make. Besides, Ada is your friend too. Don’t be sneaky.”

“I’m not!” you whisper-shouted.

“Can you two shut up,” Chris said sarcastically, “We’re trying to study here.”

The four of you feel silent again, returning to your work.

* Buzz

“Oh my God!” Mikayla threw her hands up in defeat.

Chris sighed, slamming his books shut. “I’m seriously going to beat him up the next time he throws.”

Piers laughed awkwardly, rapidly looking between Chris and Mikayla. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, “Start studying before I beat you up.”

You picked up your phone, sending a final text to Leon.

———————————————————————————————————————

Leon S. Kennedy

…so I guess what I’m trying to say is, I want to see her again. Properly, this time.

Wow. Just like that?

I don’t think “just like that” sums it up. It’s been years, after all. A whole lot of time to wonder if she even remembers me.

Trust me, she does. A meeting would be… well, poetic, you know?

Exactly. Something simple but meaningful. Think she’d go for it?

Hard to say, but you’re a host, aren’t you? You do things in style. Maybe just start with a familiar setting, like a quiet café or even somewhere… scenic?

Like the gazebo out back? Or maybe somewhere with just the right flowers… that sounds almost too much like a book, doesn’t it?

It’s perfect, though. A little mystery, a little drama—it’s exactly how you’d want to see her again.

I knew you’d get it. So… would you help me set it up? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d owe you big time.

You don’t owe me anything. But yeah, I’ll help. If this is what you want, I’m in.

You’re a real friend, you know that? 

Glad to be of service. When are we doing this?

Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at 7. Just… be ready.

Consider it done. And Leon?

Yeah?

I'm excited to see you again. For what it’s worth, I think she’ll be thrilled to see you again.

Thanks. Here’s to hoping.

———————————————————————————————————————

“You done?” Chris asked.

“Yes, Chris,” you sighed.

He cracked his knuckles. “Good, let's go to dinner soon.”

After the typical chicken dinner at the dining hall, the four of you split up to go back to your rooms to shower and finish some last minute homework. You and Mikayla were wearing your matching Christmas pajamas, even though it was September, that she had bought for the two of you last weekend. The elevator ride up to Chris and Piers' room was familiar. It took less than three minutes for the four of you to be reunited again. When you entered the room, Chris was on the phone with Ada. 

The four of you, minus Mikayla who has swim practice on Sundays, were supposed to meet for dinner this weekend. You prayed it wouldn’t be awkward after what you and Leon planned for tomorrow. Once Chris got off the phone, he flashed you a thumbs up. No words had to be exchanged, you and Mikayla had already taken your place on the carpet near the TV. Piers sat next to Mikayla. He seemed to get closer and closer to her with each passing day. When Chris finally joined the group on the floor, he turned on the console.

“Until Dawn?” he asked.

“Noooo that's too scary,” Mikayla said, cuddling up between you and Piers. 

You smiled, pushing her off of you playfully. “Yes, Mikayla, we need to finish the game sooner or later.”

* Buzz

“Or, we can play more Mario Kart,” she continued.

* Buzz

“Sorry, the controllers are still dead,” Piers frowned.

* Buzz

“You two still haven’t charged them?” I asked.

* Buzz

“Why don’t you go charge them, Y/N?” Chris suggested sarcastically.

* Buzz

“Turn that off!” Chris and Mikayla shouted over each other.

You winced. “Sorry.”

You put your phone on Do Not Disturbed, but not before noticing the twenty-seven missed texts from Leon. What the fuck?

Opening the text conversation, you were greeted with a wall full of pictures of flowers and Leon desperately asking which ones you liked most. This was going to be a long night …

———————————————————————————————————————

“Why do you look so nervous?” Chris asked, throwing a pillow at your face. You and Mikayla had created a small pillow fort in the one available corner of your tiny room. Piers and your roommate were out doing God knows what, so that left you and Chris together one on one. This wasn’t entirely unusual– you had gotten used to Chris’s presence outside of a group setting.

“Leon’s almost here,” you said, “It’s freaking me out.”

“What are the two of you doing?” he questioned, eyebrows raised.

You sat up in your bed, unable to hide your emotions. “Chris, can I tell you something? You can’t tell anyone.”

Chris put his phone down, suddenly looking equally as serious. “Yes. Is everything okay?”

“I’msettingupLeonandAdaonadatebutI’mtotallyfreakingoutbecauseI’mscaredofWeskerandAda’sreactions,” you spilled, unable to catch your breathe. 

“Woah woah, slow down, Y/N,” Chris got up from his pillow fort, sitting beside you on your bed, “Wait, why are you setting up Leon and Ada.”

“Well, in all honesty, I don’t like Albert. The way he was acting… rubbed me the wrong way. Ada is a friend and I want what's best for her, and– um.”

“And?” 

“I’ve been talking with Leon a lot,” you admitted, “He’s dorky and funny and he's a great friend. He cares about Ada a lot and I want him to be happy.”

Chris sighed, placing his face into the palms of his hands. “When I was in high school, my sister asked me to drop off one of her CDs to the Wong’s house. I was too young to drive, I was fourteen. I was always scared of Mr. and Mrs. Wong, the Wong Credit Enterprise is a huge cooperation, you know? Turns out, I didn’t even need to go inside. Ada was in the driveway, sitting in her white mustang. There was a blonde guy in the front seat who I had never seen before. The two of them were clearly talking about something important. I left pretty quickly, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

After a moment he continued. “I found out later from Claire that the guy in the front seat, Leon, was her boyfriend. They met at the country club: Ada was the member and Leon was the busboy. After his dad died he apparently moved back east. I don’t think the two of them wanted to break up, but they never got back together. When Ada got engaged to Albert the Wesker and Wong families threw a huge party. Long story short, Ada got a letter from Leon, got super drunk and flipped out– she said she didn’t want to marry Albert afterall. Her dad pulled her aside and the last thing I heard was that Ada kept the engagement but tore up the letter.”

You took several moments to process the absolute information dump Chris had placed on you. Leon had told you he and Ada had a past, but you never knew how serious it was.

“Why are you telling me this?” you said softly.

“Because I don’t think it's a good idea,” he said, “Ada is marrying Albert. Leon needs to move on.”

* Beep

You didn’t even need to read the text message to know: Leon was here. You and Chris stared at each other silently, words did not need to be exchanged. As you stood up to leave, Chris gave you a sad smile before sitting back down in the pillow fort. Walking to Leon’s car felt like walking to your own doom. Leon drove a Range Rover– the newest model. Rolling down his window, you were immediately met with an expensive, mahogany smell.

“Hi,” he smiled warmly.

“Hi,” you returned the gesture.

Stepping into the car, you put your seatbelt on. Leon was silent, his grip on the steering while tightening with each passing moment. His knuckles were turning white. The moon was barely visible due to the dark, thick clouds in the sky.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Leon’s voice cracked slightly. You turned towards him, seeing the stress in his furrowed brow. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, but you're not so sure he was paying attention.

You smiled softly, reaching out to place your hand over his own. “You’re going to be fine, Leon. Just be yourself.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve waited years for this. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this… exposed.”

This time it was your turn to laugh. “Exposed? You’re the Leon Kennedy– you’re somebody worth being with. She doesn’t get to change that.”

“You’re not nervous?” he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“A little. Maybe more than a little. But I’m here for you above all else. If you need me, I’m here.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she—” He stopped himself, the name stuck in his throat. Ada. You could feel the jealousy stirring in your stomach, trying your best to mask it.

You put a smile on your face, gripping his hand even tighter. “We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.”

“We’re in this together, right?” he asked.

“Hell yeah,” you responded, “I’m like the best wingman ever.”

His laugh was genuine, hearty. “What would I do without you?”

———————————————————————————————————————

When you arrive at Leon’s gazebo, it was already filled to the brim with flowers. Each of the flowers in the photos he had sent you that you had hearted were in the room. When you recommended them, you didn’t expect him to buy the entire stock. You were amused, though a little scared. Who on earth has this much money to blow on flowers for just one afternoon?

“So, Ada’s coming here at 8:30 for tea, right?” Leon asked, anxiously rubbing his hands together.

“Yup,” you responded, preoccupied by the flowers, “Jesus, Leon, you look like you robbed a flower garden.”

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” he said, “Because if it’s going to rain we– we should just call this whole thing off.”

You snapped out of your flower drive daze. Stepping towards Leon, you placed your hands firmly on his shoulders. “Leon, a little bit of rain won’t be a problem. You should really sit down, you look like you’re going to pass out. I’ll… umm work on finishing up the food for the tea.”

Leon let out a breath of relief, his blue eyes looking entirely exhausted. “Thank you, Y/N. I really mean it.”

———————————————————————————————————————

When the clock struck 8:45 Leon looked as though he was about to throw himself into the river and never return.

“She’s not coming,” he said, pacing around the room, “Of course she’s not! Why would she be–”

You heard the unmistakable beep of Ada Wong’s black Porsche Panamera. She was here– late probably because of the rain and traffic. Leon’s face went blank. In a moment, he had left out the back entrance of the gazebo.

“Leon? Leon! Where are you–” you sighed, “God damn it.”

You met Ada outside the gazebo, ushering her inside under your cheap umbrella you had bought from the dollar store.

“Just give me one second,” you smiled, concealing your panic at Leon’s sudden disappearing act. And– nope! He was nowhere to be found. You were internally kicking yourself. You rested your head onto the front of the refrigerator, groaning internally.

Ada, who you imagined was as confused as ever, had likely taken a seat amidst all the flowers suffocating the room. “Oh goodness,” you overhead, “Maybe she really is in love with me.”

You laughed, feeling an ounce of relief knowing that at the very least you would have a nice evening tea with a dear friend. So you grabbed the tray of finger sandwiches, scones, and small desserts and set it on the table next to the kettle.

“Here, allow me,” Ada offered, pouring you both a warm cup of tea, “Now tell me, Y/N. Why did you ask me for tea all by yourself?”

You mentally prepared a bullshit response to give her, but just then the back entrance of the gazebo slammed upon. Leon walked through, completely drenched. When Ada and Leon made eye contact, you could practically see the fireworks. It was like a scene out of a movie. You felt sick to your stomach.

“I’m… gonna give the two of you some space,” you said before taking your cheap umbrella and leaving out the front door.

———————————————————————————————————————

When you returned to the gazebo after the rain had stopped– maybe an hour after you left– Ada and Leon were holding hands. Ada had clearly been crying, evident by her red, puffy face and crumpled tissue in her other hand. Leon was absolutely beaming.

When Ada’s chauffeur came to pick her up, you saw the two of them share a brief, yet passionate kiss. As you watched from inside the gazebo, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made some sort of mistake. No– Leon and Ada were both happy. That’s all that mattered to you.

Over the next couple of months, Leon and Ada’s secret meetings became a full blown affair. You watched Leon drift further away, his attention drawn to the woman who always seemed to remain just out of reach, wrapped in mystery and promises. Each party and late-night conversation left you feeling more hollow, though you tried to hide it beneath smiles and reassurances to your friends. Chris, Piers, and Mikayla could see through you. No matter how many times they would try to convince you to take a step back, you just couldn’t do it. Besides, Leon had already done that part for you.

One Tuesday afternoon while walking back from your Intro to Philosophy class, you finally ran into him. As the two of you moved to speak, his excitement was palpable. “Ada’s leaving Wesker. She told me she’s finally ready to move on.”

Your heart ached. This time not out of pure jealousy, but also concern. “Leon… are you sure?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well… I talked with Chris a while ago and he told me it's a bit more complicated than that,” you tried to explain gently, “Leon, I don’t think Ada’s going to leave Wesker. It’s not just about her.”

His smile faltered. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?” he asked, a flicker of irritation in his tone. “Ada isn’t like everyone else. She means this.”

You didn’t have it in your heart to argue with him. “Okay, okay, I trust you.”

“You’re a good friend, Y/N,” he said softly, “Thank you for always looking out for me. Um, this weekend I’m having lunch at the Wesker house. You and Chris should join, make it less awkward.”

You nodded your head, giving him a hug goodbye without saying another word.

———————————————————————————————————————

The uber ride with Chris was certainly awkward to say the least. He wasn’t happy when you told him who the guests at this lunch would be, but Chris was a good friend, so he went with you anyways. It was supposed to be a formal event. Chris was wearing a Tom Ford suit that was likely worth more than your entire wardrobe and furniture combined. You, on the other hand, were wearing a simple sundress that your mom had sowed you. It was light and airy and always managed to make you feel like a princess. You wore it almost every time your mother dragged you to church senior year. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how underdressed you looked sitting next to your best friend. You looked like a poor country girl.

Lunch was served in the backyard in the garden. Ada was already sitting out there when you arrived. She wore a red, silk Versace dress with a slit down the side. She looked as expensive as ever. When Leon arrived, he too was wearing an expensive suit. His hair was slicked back. He looked so handsome, so rich . He and Ada looked perfect together.

“Welcome to my garden,” Ada greeted you all, “Care for some wine?”

“Sure,” said Chris, his arms folded. He had a hard time hiding when he was upset.

“I’ll take a glass,” you said, fiddling with the silver ring your father had forged for you for your eighteenth birthday.

Ada got up from her seat, pouring both you and Chris a glass of expensive red wine. When she walked closer to hand it to you, you caught a whiff of her floral perfume. When Ada turned back to the table, she poured a third drink: whiskey. Without Leon having to speak a word she handed it to him.

“Some whiskey for you,” she smiled, “Just how you like it.”

You downed your cup of wine quickly, pouring yourself another. This was going to be a long lunch. By the time Wesker had arrived for the meal, you were already three glasses deep. Chris was concerned, to say the least. Leon told you to slow down, but it was clear where he was focussing the majority of his attention. When you all took a seat, you were in between Leon and Chris. Ada sat next to her fiance on the opposite side of the table.

You could practically feel the nervousness radiating off of Leon. He was gripping the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. This was a telltale sign he was freaking out even if he otherwise appeared calm and composed. You silently placed a hand on top of his, giving it a light squeeze. Leon turned to you with a soft smile. Tea sandwiches were served. Leon and Ada were not breaking eye contact. Way to be subtle guys , you thought, rolling your eyes.

Wesker finally broke the silence, looking directly at Leon. “You look tense, Kennedy,” he said smoothly, his voice like ice. “Something on your mind?”

Leon cleared his throat, letting go of your hand. “I wanted to talk to you about Ada, Wesker.”

Chris tensed in his chair, seemingly knowing what was to come. You turned to Chris, unable to stand the sudden tension that filled the garden.

Wesker laughed, leaning back in his chair with a mocking smile. “Oh really? Tell me, Leon, what is it about my fiance that concerns you?”

Leon’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “Ada and I have a connection—something that goes beyond whatever arrangement you two have.”

“Oh Leon,” Wesker said, “You are so young, naive. Do you really think a little connection is enough to change her mind? Ada and I understand each other in a way you never will. In a way someone from your background never will.”

Leon let out a frustrated sigh, his face growing angrier by the minute. “She's leaving you, Wesker.”

Ada’s expression faltered, her eyes darting between Leon and Wesker’s. When she opened her mouth to speak, Wesker shot her a glare.

“Is that so,” Wesker said, “Well then, Ada. Care to share your plans?”

Ada remained silent, her gaze shifting to the table. He leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Ada… tell him. Tell him you want out.”

Leon got no answer. Instead, Wesker smirked. “Well then, I suppose Ada will be staying here with me afterall. Why don’t you take your leave, country boy?”

Without another word, he stormed off toward the driveway, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger. Ada jumped up, hesitating before following him out. You shared a look with Chris, heart pounding. Wesker watched them go, his smile returning as he took a sip from his wine, unaffected.

“We should probably go after them,” Chris whispered to you, “Think you can walk?”

“Oh please, I’m not a blackout drunk,” you said, attempting to crack a joke. Rather than sounding humorous, you sounded terrified.

You and Chris raced off from the gardens, running through the massive Wesker residence like there was no tomorrow. When you made it to the front door, you could see Leon and Ada having an argument. Leon got in his car, clearly ready to drive away. Ada opened the driver's door and effectively pulled Leon out of the car. A few moments later, it was a sobbing Ada who got into the driver's seat while a devastated, tipsy Leon sat in the passengers. When the car drove away, you could tell something was wrong. 

“She shouldn’t be driving that car,” you said, “Did you see how fast she was going?”

“We should go after them,” said Chris, “I’m going to call her, tell her to pull over.”

You started to panic. “I’ll call Leon. Wait, we don’t have a car! How are we gonna go after them?”

“Allow me,” a familiar, cold voice came from behind the two of you. Turning around you saw Wesker with the keys of a BMW in his hand. Without any other choice, you and Chris followed him to where his car was parked. Leon and Ada weren’t picking up their phones.

The drive was eerily silent. The only noise was the sound of phones ringing, desperately trying to reach Ada or Leon. It wasn’t too difficult to follow their path. Leon had made you give him your location at a party once, worried you would be too drunk to get home safe. In turn, he gave you his location and so the three of you used that to track them down.

As Wesker’s BMW sped through the winding roads, you stared out the window, hands clenched together so tightly they hurt. Chris sat beside you, his phone still ringing as he tried Ada again and again, his expression darkening with each unanswered call. Wesker remained silent, seemingly unbothered despite the wild chase for his possibly endangered fiance.

Finally, your phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text message or call from Leon, but rather an update on his location. The pin hadn’t moved for several minutes. Your heart skipped a beat.

“They stopped,” you said, your voice hardly above a whisper. Chris glanced at your screen, his eyes widening. Wesker gave you a nod before speeding up the car.

Another few sharp turns later and you arrived on a long, windy road next to a gas station. There was a sleek, dark car that had crashed up against the guardrail. You screamed. Before Wesker had even had the time to fully park the car, you had gotten out, Chris following closely behind you. 

“Oh my god,” you cried. Chris cursed under his breath. He had already pulled out his phone, dialing 911. 

Through the shattered windshield, you could see Leon. He was slumped over, unconscious with blood dripping down his face. Ada lay in the driver’s seat, her face pressed up against the airbag. Her eyes were barely opened, you could tell she was in a lot of pain.

“Leon!” you screamed, desperately grabbing the passenger door handle. You tried to pull it open but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the window. “Leon, please, wake up!”

“Stay back,” Wesker ordered, his voice as calm as ever. He pulled you away from the car to where Chris was standing, still on the phone with the 911 operator. Wesker took out his phone and called Ada’s father, colding relaying the details of his only daughter’s crash.

“Leon…” you said, your head starting to spin. You grabbed onto Chris’s shoulder for support, feeling a sudden weight in your legs. When your vision began to blur, you fell to the floor, completely unaware of what was happening.

“Hey–hey!” Chris shouted, his voice sounding distant, “Stay with me, Y/N!” It was already too late. His words faded, replaced by a rushing sound in your ears, and the last thing you saw was the flash of blue and red lights approaching before everything went dark.

———————————————————————————————————————

You sat in the lobby of the hospital, your hands clutched around a small, hot vanilla latte. Chris had stayed beside you the entire time, buying you some food and something sugary to drink after your fainting spell. Hours passed before you were allowed into Leon’s room. Chris went to Ada’s alongside Wesker, her family, and some other school friends. 

When you entered the infamous, popular Mr. Kennedy’s hospital room, you were the only one in there. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was a middle aged man sitting in the corner of the room. He had dark skin and wore overalls. He reminded you a lot of how your father dressed when working on the farm. His expression was stern and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. Leon laid in his bed, bruised, pale, and asleep.

You made contact with the mysterious man in the room. He stood up from his seat, walking towards you. “Hello, miss,” he said, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, um,” you stammered, “Leon is a really good friend of mine. I’m just coming here to check up on him…”

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/N, would you?” he asked with a small smile. You nodded your head in confirmation, “My son has told me a lot about you. My name is Marvin Branagh.”

“Your…son?” you asked, confused. Leon had told you on multiple occasions that both of his parents were dead. Especially his father.

“Adopted son, yes,” Marvin smiled, “Raised him ever since he was a little boy.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes darting back and forth between Leon and Marvin, “Leon told me you were, well, um–”

“Dead?” Marvin asked, still smiling, “He just loves to tell that to his new little rich friends. I haven’t a clue why. I’m very much alive and well.”

“Oh, that’s um…confusing?” you said, your eyebrows raised. Why on earth would Leon lie about that?

“I’m going to head to the cafeteria,” said Marvin, “Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, a snack?”

You sighed, taking a seat next to Leon. “Maybe a fruit cup, if they have any. Thank you, Mr. Branagh.”

“Marvin is fine, and don’t mention it,” he responded, “I’m just glad my boy has at least one good friend around.”

As Marvin left the room, you fixed your gaze on Leon. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. He looked peaceful.

A few moments later, Leon stirred, his eyes fluttering as he woke from his nap. He squinted, disoriented, before his gaze settled on you. His expression softened, and he managed a small, weary smile.

“Hey…” he said.

“Hey yourself,” you leaned in, giving him the softest hug you could manage, “I thought you were dead. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Ok,” he said with a small laugh, placing an arm onto your back, “Um, is she…”

“Ada is fine,” you said, pulling away from him yet still staying close, “Chris, Wesker, and her parents are with her now. Marvin stepped out of the room to go get a snack.”

“Marvin?” Leon asked, turning his face to the side with shame.

“Yeah,” you said gently, brushing a piece of his hair back behind his ears, “Leon, why did you lie to me about him?”

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Because he’s a reminder of where I come from. The small-town boy with nothing special about him, raised by a guy in overalls on a farm. I thought…” He swallowed. “I thought that part of me was something I needed to leave behind.”

“For her?” you asked, “I don’t get it. Why would you pretend to be someone you’re not?”

He looked at you, an intensity in his blue eyes that caught you off guard. “I thought if I became someone different, maybe someone like Ada would see me as enough. But the harder I chased after that the further away it seemed to get.”

You bit your lip, tears beginning to prick the corner of your eyes. “Maybe that's why we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”

Shocked, Leon attempted to sit up. He winced in pain, slowly lowering himself back down after his outburst. “I don't…why would you say that?”

You summoned every ounce of courage in your body to tell him the truth. “It’s because I like you Leon. Not as a friend. And watching you blindly chase after this girl who doesn’t see you for who you are– who won’t appreciate who you really are, it just hurts. I can’t do it anymore.”

Leon was silent. He studied your face, a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place on his face. Then, he slowly reached over, placing his hand over your own.

“Thank you,” he said, “Thank you for being here for me. For helping me realize that I don’t need to be ashamed of who I am. You’re a good person, Y/N.”

You squeezed his hand, a bittersweet feeling falling over you. “The past is who you are, Leon. You don’t have to let it define you, but running away from it is just as dangerous.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your joined hands. “Maybe it’s time I finally learn to live with that.”

———————————————————————————————————————

“It’s beautiful,” Leon said, holding one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, “I forgot how much I missed drives like this.”

For winter break your sophomore year, your parents invited you and Leon to spend a few nights at their farm. It took a lot of begging, particularly towards your mother, for your parents to allow you to bring your boyfriend. You were nervous for them to finally meet, sure, but you knew Leon was the type of guy that you could bring home to your parents and have them love. You weren’t worried.

“Yeah, it reminds me of when I was little and my dad used to take me on night drives in his truck,” you said, “It seems like farm, but I kinda love it, you know?”

“For sure,” Leon responded, yawning after the long day of driving, “Marvin used to take me out on his tractor to my neighbors farm. Me and some other kids used to catch fireflies together.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “That’s so sweet. Oh, here you can pull up into that grass patch over there.”

Leon opened your car door, offering you a hand as you stepped onto the snowy, grassy land. “Fuck, it’s cold,” you said with a shiver, “Don’t talk that way in front of my parents, okay?”

“Noted,” he laughed, taking in his surroundings, “Damn, I’ve missed places like these.”

“Well, yeah,” you responded, “I still don’t understand how you got rich enough as a teenager that you could just move to whatever city you wanted.”

Leon winced, gripping your hand tighter as the two of you approached the front door. “Don’t mention. Seriously, do not mention it.”

You laughed, pounding on your parents door. “Ma! Pop! We're here!”

The door swung open almost immediately. Your mother was wearing one of her hand sewed dresses with a cooking apron in front. She was absolutely beaming. “Hi my loves!”

She pulled you into a warm hug immediately, rocking the two of you back and forth. She then turned her attention to Leon, pulling him into an even tighter embrace before they exchanged hellos. “You must be Leon! Oh my goodness, aren’t you a handsome one! Come in, come in, you must be freezing! Y/N, go fetch your boyfriend one of pop’s sweaters. He’s going to catch his death.”

“Okay ma,” you laughed, giving Leon a sympathetic smile as your mother dragged him into the small dining room to meet your father. “Good Lord.”

After fetching Leon a coat, you walked into the dining room to see both of your parents sitting next to him, completely enthralled with him. Your mother was smiling wider than you’ve seen her smile in a while. Even for you! Your father, on the other hand, contained his excitement a bit better, but you could still tell he was over the moon.

“You kids must be starving,” your mother said, standing up from her chair, placing her hands on Leon’s shoulders, “Let me go get the food. I made brisket and potatoes!”

“Lemme go grab some drinks,” your father said, “You like Bud Light, Leon?”

“Yessir,” your boyfriend responded, “I’m good with just about anything.”

“Attaboy. You like the sound of that, Y/N?”

“Yes, pop,” you greeted your father with a kiss on the cheek. You took a seat at the table, the one farthest from Leon, funny enough. The smell of your mother’s brisket made your mouth water. When both your parents returned, you immediately dug in. Everything was as delicious as you remembered. 

“This is fantastic,” Leon said, “I haven’t had this good of a brisket in such a long time.”

Your mother dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin. “I’m flattered. I always try to make my best brisket whenever Y/N brings someone over.”

“That little friend of yours, Piers?” your father said, “That kid nearly ate the entire damn animal.”

“That was Chris, pop,” you responded, “Piers is a vegetarian, remember?”

“I thought that was Lydia?” he said.

“Mikayla?” you corrected.

“Oh hush,” your mother interrupted, “You’re always causing drama, Todd.”

“Me?!” your father answered. And thus started a playful bicker between your parents at the dinner table. Leon was smiling the entire time, especially when one of your parents would call upon him for input.

After dinner, your parents set up a small fireplace outside to watch the stars. It didn’t take long for your mother to go inside and sleep, complaining about the cold. Your father followed shortly after, mumbling about having to get up and work tomorrow. When it was just the two of you, Leon moved to your seat, holding you in his arms. 

“The sky is so clear tonight,” he said, his blue eyes illuminated in the fire. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips cold, “I’m so glad we’re here.”

When you were a child, you imagined wealth to be a safe full of gold higher than the peak of Mount Everest. You desperately chased after it, believing it would give you all the happiness in the world. However, now wealth meant something completely different.

Being wealthy meant having game nights with Chris. Being wealthy meant going on morning walks with Piers. Being wealthy meant going to the mall with Mikayla, even if that meant watching her shop while you snacked on a cheap pretzel. Being wealthy meant having Sunday brunch with Ada and Wekser. Being wealthy meant spending time with your aging parents.

Being wealthy meant having Leon by your side no matter what.

“Me too,” you said, “I’m so happy right now– I feel like I’m richer than you.”

With that, Leon held onto you a bit tighter. You smiled, staring up at the glittering sky. "I love you," you said.

"I love you too."

[miryum]

Always in All Ways (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Great Gatsby AU

Warnings: angst!!!! (but a happy ending) Reader wears a dress (once) cause it’s the 20s. Talk of kids and a future together. For the sake of incest, we’re gonna ignore the fact that Enzo and Mattheo are half brothers… And if you squint, there could be a sign of domestic abuse (but it is so little there that I'm not sure if you can call it that). Reader is married (not to Mattheo at first) and it's not technically cheating.... it's hard to explain. As always, swearing. Not entirely proof-read, but will get it done soon

Lorenzo Berkshire had moved into a gated, two story house, surrounded by a thick forest. The neighbourhood he had moved into was affectionately called Diadem East. 

Diadem East was surrounded by a large bay, which, in turn, separated it from Diadem West. Diadem East and Diadem West were similar in the fact that they were obscenely rich. Even though both had enough wealth to buy the island of New York, Diadem West looked down on Diadem East because of generational wealth. Diadem West had come from old money - long lines of families that treated life like a simple game of chess and they could move others like pawns. Diadem East were those who only recently came into money and spent it freely and without care.

Lorenzo had moved to Diadem East in hopes of getting away from his overbearing parents, and it helped that his cousin lived right across the bay in Diadem West. 

Y/n Pucey was a recent newlywed to Adrian Pucey. Lorenzo hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see his baby cousin married to a man fifteen years older than her. Y/n had always been Lorenzo’s favourite cousin; she was a bubbling, carefree girl, probably due to the fact that from birth, she had no restrictions with her father’s money. Now that she was married to the pretentious Pucey family, Lorenzo doubted she was familiar with the word ‘no’. 

What Lorenzo did doubt, however, was Y/n’s happiness. He remembered a time, back when she was nineteen, that he had visited her over summer break. She told him tales of a man that had captured her heart. Lorenzo remembered how Y/n’s eyes gleamed and her cheeks burned with her extensive smiling. He remembered laughing with Y/n in the sunroom, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“I’m in love, Enzo,” she had replied simply. 

Needless to say, Lorenzo couldn’t wait to see his cousin again. He also couldn’t wait to return to a normal sleep schedule, given that his new neighbour wouldn’t stop having parties every single night that blasted light and music into Lorenzo’s bedroom window. It wasn’t until Thursday at four pm when a butler knocked on Lorenzo’s back door, holding a silver plate with a letter positioned on it. “Can I help you?” Enzo asked slowly, leaning on the door frame.

“Mister Riddle requests your presence on Friday night for a party he is throwing,” the butler said. 

“Mister… Riddle?” Enzo reiterated. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Your neighbour, Mister Mattheo Riddle,” the butler explained. “He wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood.”

“Right,” Enzo trailed off. “I’ll be there.”

“Mister Riddle looks forward to making your acquaintance.”

****

The next day, Enzo drove up to Diadem West, the hilltop Pucey Manor looming over everything. As soon as Enzo finished driving up the winding gravel road, the front door swung open dramatically. Y/n stood there, arms flung wide. “Darling Enzo!” she squealed. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” 

“My sweet cousin!” Enzo called back, bounding up the steps. He whirled Y/n up in his arms, swinging her back and forth, much to her delight. Her sundress flared around them in a swirling dance. “How have you been?”

“Lively,” Y/n answered simply. “How are those back home? You must tell me everything.”

Enzo flung his head back and said dramatically, “they miss you dearly, loving cousin. When I passed through town, everyone wept when they heard I was to see you. Jealous men came running down from their houses and begged me to take them with you. Mothers sobbed and cried out how they wished their daughters would turn out like you. Children dashed through the streets, racing after my carriage with joy.”

“They did?” Y/n beamed, gripping onto Enzo’s arms. “I do miss them, you know. Perhaps I should visit next summer.”

“They would all love to see you,” Enzo stated plainly. “Yet I have a question for you. Do you know of-”

“Lorenzo Berkshire,” a voice boomed from the front door. “What’s a man like you doing in these parts?”

Enzo stared up at Adrian Pucey, the esteemed husband of Y/n. “Adrian,” Enzo peeled himself away from Y/n and sauntered up the steps. “It’s nice to see you again.” He held out his hand for the man to shake.

“Get in here, good pal.” Adrian clapped Enzo’s hand and pulled him into a rough hug. Enzo let out a huff of air as he collided with Adrian’s chest. “Wonderful to see you as well. Tell me, how’s the stock business going?” Adrian placed a nonnegotiable hand on Enzo’s shoulder and led him inside the Pucey mansion. Y/n let out a noise of surprise and hurried in after them, determined not to be left behind. 

“Good, good.” Enzo made senseless conversation with Adrian as he tried to take in the curated house he was in. All the doors and windows were open, letting in a soft breeze and the stinging smell of the bay water. The curtains fluttered around Y/n as she walked, her eyes cautiously on her cousin and husband. No matter how she acted, Lorenzo knew of the whip sharp mind that Y/n had.

“And you know where he’s living, Adrian?” Y/n cut in, moving to recline gracefully on the settee. “In Diadem East!” 

Adrian’s brows rose and he turned to Enzo as the men sat on the couch. “Why not buy a house here? Hell, you’re welcome to stay in our guest room. Anything for a relative.”

“No, please.” Enzo held a hand up. “I’m perfectly fine on my own and I don’t want to intrude. It’s a nice, cosy house looking over the bay. In fact, if I look towards the right, I can see the end of your pier.”

“Really?” Y/n lit up, head turning towards Enzo. “How sweet. It’s almost as if we’re neighbours.”

“Speaking of neighbours,” Enzo took this opportunity to ask, “my own seems to be very eccentric.”

Adrian chuckled and poured himself some whiskey. “How so? Do you want any?” He gestured to the whiskey.

“No, but thank you.” Enzo adjusted in his seat and crossed his legs. “My neighbour throws these obscene parties almost every single night. I’m convinced that if it weren’t for the trees, I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep.” Y/n stretched out her legs and leaned her head back until it was resting on the arm of the chair. “But the oddest thing happened - he invited me to one tonight.”

“Really?” Adrian sipped his drink. “And who is this poseur?”

“A Mister Riddle.”

Y/n’s lips parted and, almost in slow motion, her eyes flickered to Lorenzo before going back to staring out the window to the gleaming blue water outside. “Riddle?” she murmured. Adrian glanced at her and Enzo’s brows furrowed. “I mean, there must be a thousand Riddles… why, in fact, just last month, I was introduced to a Ryder. Which is like Riddle, I guess.”

“Y/n, are you alright?” Enzo asked softly.

“Yes, are you well?” Adrian added on.

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Y/n said. “Perhaps just lightheaded. I’m going to go lay down now.” Her hand flit to her collarbone where a small chain was tucked under her dress.

“Okay.” Enzo stared after her, admittedly worried about his cousin, before standing and adjusting his suit. “Well, I'm afraid I have to go. Mustn’t be late to this fellow’s party.”

“Of course.” Adrian stood as well, in common courtesy, knowing that the two men had nothing in common or nothing to do with each other without Y/n as the mediator. “Riddle…” the man muttered. “I could’ve sworn I heard that name somewhere.”

“It’s a common name, you know.” Enzo chuckled as he swiped out the door. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Adrian closed the door behind Enzo almost as an afterthought.

****

“What do you want, my darling? Anything you wish and I will make it happen.”

“I’m happy with just you, Matty.”

“That’s not a good enough answer, and you know it. Now, I’m going to ask again: what do you want?”

“… I… I want a big house. Overlooking the water so our kids can play in the water.”

“Our kids, hm?”

“Oh, yes, Matty. Our kids.”

“Alright. And what else?”

“Hmm… and a big ballroom that we can dance in. And all the paintings will be our favourites. And big parties for every occasion. Perhaps a pool. Or a sunroom. And the largest bedroom ever.”

“Is that all?”

“As long as I have you, Matty, that’s all I ask.”

****

While everyone else arrived to Riddle’s party in new and shining cars, Enzo simply walked. People of all backgrounds were streaming in the doors and Enzo was pushed into the unrelenting mob of partygoers. Enzo shoved his way to the first butler he saw and presented his invitation. “Uh, yes. I have this invitation here…” 

The butler glanced down at the letter and said stoically, “you needn’t one.”

“Pardon?” Enzo had never been to a party where he didn’t need to be invited. 

“The guests come and go as they please - per Mister Riddle’s orders.”

“Alright,” Enzo pursed his lips together and nodded awkwardly. “Thank you. Do you know where I could find Mister Riddle?”

“No, sir,” the butler replied. “He likes to socialise with his attendees and be in the throng of things. He likes to make sure that everyone is comfortable and having a good time.”

Enzo hummed and nodded in thanks before allowing himself to be swept up in the current. He was carried further into the opulent mansion and Lorenzo needed to remind himself to close his mouth at the palatial nature of it all. 

Practically every surface was plated with gold or made of marble. The ballroom opened up to a balcony that overlooked a large pool which was currently populated with dozens of people. On the other side of the ballroom, a large sunroom was occupied by a throng of people, cigarette smoke wisping up through the open roof. The stars were obscured by not only the smoke, but by the fact that every light in the mansion was turned on. Marble stairs led down to another open room which held a stage and a band whose music filtered up throughout the rooms. Congressmen, celebrities, and random people off the street were packed into the house, booze and drugs were passed around and waiters tried to filter through the crowd to hand out refreshments and food.

As he passed, Enzo heard tidbits of conversations about their host. “Did you know he was a bootlegger?”

“No, no, I heard he fought in the last war.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s all terribly romantic.”

“Well, I thought that he was chasing a girl-”

Enzo managed to fight his way to the balcony and snag a glass of champagne on his way. He sighed in relief at finding a bubble of air to himself. A man dressed in a finely pressed suit jostled into him and quickly apologised. “Terribly sorry, old friend,” the man said. “I didn’t see you there. It’s a rowdy party tonight, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Enzo replied loudly. “Is it usually like this?”

“Unfortunately,” the man grinned. “Although few frequent. I always find that many people come once and then never return.”

“You seem like you know an awful lot about Mister Riddle’s parties. Do you come here often?”

“Yes,” the man tsked. “As hard as I try, I can’t pull myself away from this old mansion. Something always draws me back. Did you know that Mattheo Riddle built this house from scratch?”

“I did not.”

“Yes,” the man laughed, his lips curing up. “Of course, he didn’t build the actual thing, but he bought the land and drew up the blueprints years ago. Six, to be exact.”

“Why is that?”

“No one knows for sure. There’s a lot of rumours circulating around Riddle.”

Enzo shouted over the music, “I was actually invited by Mister Riddle himself. But his butler seemed surprised by that.”

“Yes, it is very rare that one is personally invited to these gatherings.”

“Do you know where I could find him? Mister Riddle, I mean.” Enzo took a sip of his champagne.

The man laughed again and raised his own champagne glass. A smirk coiled up on his face and he said simply, “why, you’re talking to him, old friend. I am Mattheo Riddle.”

The party noise faded in Enzo’s ears. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” His hand shot out for Riddle to shake. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Pardon me, Mister Riddle.”

Mattheo Riddle shook Enzo’s hand, still grinning. His eyes held a mix of anticipation and happiness. Those who were close to Mattheo Riddle - which, really, was no one - had never seen such joy on Mattheo’s face. “Oh, call me Riddle. Or better yet, Mattheo. I feel as if I already know you, old friend. And, seeing as we’re neighbours, I hope to get to know you even better. How would you like to join me in my study?”

Enzo raised a brow and cliched his champagne fluke. “May I ask what for?”

“Oh, well, to tell you my life story, after all.” Mattheo clapped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, much like Adrian had hours earlier. But unlike Adrian, Enzo found himself agreeing to go along with this man he only met today. 

Mattheo led Enzo down the hallway and nodded to a butler who was standing guard over an oak door. The butler opened the door up to Mattheo’s study, which was more of a library. The library was a much different aesthetic than the rest of the house. While the mansion next to Enzo’s little cottage was energetic and extravagant, Mattheo’s library was dark and cosy. Instead of gold and marble, it was made of oak and the flickering flames of candles.

“An impressive collection,” Enzo commented, glancing around the room at the rows of books.

“Why, thank you,” Mattheo replied. “It overlooks the bay, you see?” He pointed towards the window that, true to his word, was directly facing the large water. 

Enzo peered out the window and huffed a laugh when he saw Y/n’s house staring back at him. “That’s my cousin's house,” Enzo glanced back at Mattheo to see his gaze locked on the Pucey mansion. 

“I know,” Mattheo said quietly. 

“You know?” Lorenzo repeated questioningly. 

“Yeah,” Mattheo nodded. “You’ve heard rumours of me.” It wasn’t a question. Before Enzo could answer, Matthei continued, “but I can assure you, only one of those is true, old friend. I am… a helpless romantic.” Mattheo chuckled lowly, a sad layer in his eyes. Instead of sitting behind his large desk, Mattheo opted to lounge on a couch and Enzo sat in a loveseat next to him. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“About… eight years ago I met this girl. God, she was absolutely perfect.” Mattheo gazed out at Diadem West. “I have been bereft of her for so many years… And I finally hope to make it up to her. I’ve become the man that will be good enough for her archaic parents.”

“Where did you meet her?” Enzo asked quietly.

“I was visiting her hometown one day, eight years ago. And I just…” Mattheo took a moment to wet his chapped lips. “She had all other eyes on her. She was simply walking down the street, yet she drew everyone to her. And when I was blessed enough to hold her in my arms… to kiss her lips is better than heaven.”

“May I guess her name?” Enzo’s smile grew larger. “Is this lovely, captivating woman my cousin, Y/n Pucey?”

“How did you know?” Mattheo’s voice was airy and wistful.

“Many men have tripped over their feet just to take a glance at my cousin. She is not only beautiful, holding the Berkshire genes, but witty, magnetic, and gentle.” Enzo finished his champagne and lit a cigar that Mattheo had offered him. “And, well, she might have mentioned you once or twice. She was in love with you when she was nineteen. Perhaps she still is.” Mattheo’s eyes snapped to Enzo. “Then she was married to Adrian Pucey. Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you’re living right across from her.”

“Yes, I’m aware of all that,” Mattheo stated. “But nothing has been an accident, Mister Berkshire. There’s a reason why I host parties every weekend, why I keep the lights on every night, why my home is directly across from hers, and why you, her cousin, is renting next to me.”

Enzo scrutinised this stranger across from him. “You’re obsessed with my cousin,” he stated, somewhat disgustedly. 

“No,” Mattheo whispered. “I’m in love with your cousin. I have always been in love with her - in all ways. And she is me. Mention my name around her and you’ll see.”

“I have,” Enzo admitted. “She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. But she also looked guilty, Riddle. She’s married. She has a life. She wants children.” Mattheo’s jaw jumped as Enzo continued, “you can’t rip her away from that. It’s been years, Riddle. She hasn’t seen you for years.”

“I know…” Mattheo trailed off. “But just to see her again would fulfil any wish of mine. I have a vow I need to make due on. I- uh, I was wondering if you could invite her over for tea. And I could drop by. Just one day.” Mattheo’s eyes felt dry and he quickly blinked. 

Enzo sighed deeply and after a long moment, said, “okay. Tuesday? At three?”

A weight lifted off of Mattheo’s shoulders. He now had all the time in the world. In his eyes, everything was finally falling into place. Mattheo would finally get to be happy again. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

****

Tuesday was outrageously cloudy. Lorenzo could hardly see the sun as he drove back to his house. As he pulled into his driveway, he came to see an ostentatious green Rolls-Royce convertible that was blocking his drive. Enzo stared defeatedly at the car for a long moment, knowing exactly whose it was. 

Mattheo Riddle leaned on the hood and proceeded to wave at Enzo as if the man wasn’t hours too early to tea. 

“You have a watch, don’t you?” Enzo called out, getting out of his car. 

“I couldn’t wait,” Mattheo admitted. “I had nothing else to do today - well, that’s not true. I in fact cancelled some meetings that were set to take place today, but no worries.”

“You cancelled - you know what? Nevermind. Look, Riddle, I sure hope you know what you’re doing. Y/n… she’s changed from when you met her.” Enzo couldn’t look at his neighbour as he unlocked his door. Mattheo followed in after him, glancing around courteously, as if the real reason he was here wasn’t sending waves of nerves through his stomach. Enzo glanced back at Mattheo and moved to the kitchen to make some tea. Mattheo followed after him, his gait slow. “She used to believe that she could live any way she wanted,” Enzo continued. “But then she met Adrian.”

“Hm.” Mattheo made a low noise in his throat, fingers reaching out to play with the teacups that hung from a shelf. 

“She’s not… unhappy with Adrian,” Enzo tried to explain. “But she’s putting her happiness aside for the grandeur of life.” 

“I could give her that grandeur,” Mattheo muttered. 

“Do you know how people back home would treat her if they found out she got divorced from Adrian Pucey just to marry a man who is rumoured to be a bootlegger?” Enzo asked, aghast. He roughly swallowed and said quietly, “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” 

“No, no,” Mattheo waved him off, still seemingly fascinated by Enzo’s teacups. “It’s perfectly in line. You make a valid point. Though I can assure you, I am not a bootlegger. Far from it.”

“Then what is your line of work?” 

“Never you mind. When is Y/n coming?” Mattheo turned to Enzo, changing the topic at an alarming speed. The teacups were long forgotten.

Enzo exhaled and dunked a teabag in the teapot. “She said she’ll be arriving around three. However, that means that she’ll either be arriving at two-fifteen on account of wanting to escape Adrian, or she’ll arrive at four-thirty because Adrian needs something from her.”

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Mattheo growled.

As if on cue, the two men heard the rumbling of a car approaching. The air in the room stilled. Mattheo’s face dropped and he turned pale, staring at the door. They heard Y/n’s honey voice call out, “Lorenzo!” Enzo quickly came to his senses and rushed to open the door. Y/n was driving up, waving her hat enthusiastically in one hand. A smile split on Enzo’s face as he rushed over to help her out of her car. “I must say, I was wary when you asked me to visit without Adrian,” Y/n chatted as Enzo escorted her into the house. “I couldn’t possibly think of anything you would need from me.”

“Can’t I just ask you over for tea?” Enzo chuckled. “Does everything I do need malicious intent?”

“Based on your past, yes.”

Enzo rolled his eyes playfully. After he took Y/n’s coat and hat, his eyes darted around his house, but he couldn’t find one trace of Mattheo anywhere. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll… I’ll grab the tea,” Enzo muttered. He moved to his kitchen, and seeing his back door ajar, he shoved it open. “Where are you going?!” he cried out to Mattheo who was currently halfway across the lawn.

Mattheo spun back to Enzo, fear deeply rooted in his expression. “I can’t,” he whispered after he jogged back to Enzo. “I can’t do it. You’re absolutely right. She... she has a life. And probably doesn’t even remember me. It would be cruel to subject her to such emotions. I don’t want to cause her any harm.”

Enzo shook his head. “I will not have invited my cousin to tea under false pretences,” he said slowly and firmly. “You owe this to her,” he added. 

A droplet of rain fell from a passing cloud and fell faster and faster until it splattered on Mattheo’s wrist. The water was absorbed by the cuff of Mattheo’s shift, but a small bit of the water rolled down onto his hand and drifted its way down to Mattheo’s ring finger. A thin gold band sat snug there. “Do you know what a pyrrhic victory means?” 

“Yes.” Enzo frowned inquisitively. “It’s victory that cost the victor more than it did the defeated. But what does that have to do with Y/n?”

“My love for Y/n has cost me everything,” Mattheo muttered. “But she is everything. I'm used to people hating me for my wealth and how reserved I am. What I'm used to isn't people's love. And now, my love is with Y/n and I'm not letting anyone ruin that or take it away from me.” More raindrops began falling from the sky until a gentle pitter-patter could be heard all around them.

“So why don’t you come in and tell her that?” Enzo asked, gesturing towards his door. 

Mattheo’s jaw jumped but he nodded, giving in. He shuffled through the door and into the living room where Y/n sat. Enzo grinned to himself and shut the door behind them before hearing Y/n gasp and the sound of a glass breaking. Enzo cursed to himself, knowing one of his precious teacups had now lost its life.

“M- Matty?” Y/n murmured, eyes wide. “Oh- oh, dear.” She stared down at the broken teacup on the carpet and bent down, hands shuddering. Mattheo crouched down as well, maintaining eye contact with Y/n the entire way. Y/n shook her head and focused on cleaning up her mess. Enzo noticed her whole body was trembling and he took a step forward as if to console her. Mattheo beat him to the punch. He grasped her forearms and helped her up, leaving the teacup behind. Y/n sniffed and repeated, “Matty?”

“Yeah, darling. It’s me,” Mattheo murmured, stepping closer to her. His hold on her arms softened and his cheek brushed against her forehead. 

Y/n exhaled shakily. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, tipping her head to lean into a more intimate position with Mattheo. Enzo slid out of the room, smirking faintly.

“I live next to Enzo,” Mattheo said, neither one bothering to look for Y/n’s cousin. 

Y/n chuckled humourlessly. “Tell me the real reason, Matty. I know you better than this.”

Mattheo smiled - the truest smile Enzo had ever seen on his neighbour’s face (not that Enzo was watching from the next room) - and leaned down to bump his nose against hers. “I could never hide anything from you. Not that I ever would, but I digress.” Mattheo reached down and gently lifted Y/n’s hand to his lips. He pressed featherlight kisses along her fingertips and confessed, “a year after you married Adrian, I built a house across the bay. The mansion whose windows are alight every single night with fireworks going off every weekend… that’s me, darling. Trying to get you to even glance over at me. Renting the neighbouring cabin to your cousin… that’s me. Every little detail, down to my car, is so I can see you again.”

“You did all that for me?” Y/n ran a soft thumb over Mattheo’s jawline, making the man shiver. 

“And I will do so much more,” Mattheo promised. “I am yours, my love. Always in all ways.”

****

Y/n sat curled in Mattheo’s lap. The pair was under a tree on a picnic blanket, far from the L/n Villa. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend my birthday with you, Matty,” Y/n murmured to him. “I know you had a surprise for me.”

“It’s alright, darling,” Mattheo whispered back, dragging his fingers through Y/n’s hair. “I know nineteen is a monumental birthday for your family.”

“But now you have me all to yourself,” Y/n lightly laughed, turning to grin at her lover. “What was the surprise you had for me? You’ve been awfully suspicious these past few days, Matty.”

Mattheo hummed, looking to the sky and rhythmically tapping his fingers against you. “Well, I don’t know, my love,” he teased. “What could I possibly get the most perfect girl for her birthday?” After your protests, he continued, not before kissing your temple. “I got you my heart,” he whispered. Out from his pocket, he pulled a thin chain. Dangling teasingly from the chain was a golden ring. “So I can be with you always,” Mattheo explained quietly. 

Tears pricked at Y/n’s eyes as she gently took the necklace from him and thread the chain through her fingers. “You… you’re being serious right now?” Her focus was drawn to Mattheo’s own ring finger, where she noticed a new, immortal band lay proudly. “Are you…?”

“Only for you,” Mattheo reassured her. “Don’t worry. It’s my way of showing my devotion.” He twisted the necklace around her neck, clipping it there. 

“Only for me?”

“Always in all ways,” Mattheo vowed.

****

Y/n frequented outings with her friends much more often as of late. Adrian only sent Y/n away with a half-committed kiss on the cheek and eyes fixated on his golfing or his business contracts. Y/n would get in her car (or Enzo’s if he was feeling nice), and drive down to Mattheo’s mansion. Most days, there would be other cars there, waiting for Riddle’s house to open to party. They would be carrying booze and wearing all fashions of clothes, and when they would walk up to his door only to be turned away, they would pout and groan. Mattheo’s house wasn’t blazing his lights anymore, nor were there any fireworks crackling each weekend. His car was kept parked in his garage and his smile was constant. 

The first time Y/n had gone over to Mattheo’s mansion, so conveniently and coincidentally located across from hers, she had been in awe. “It’s exquisite!” she had exclaimed. She had run all over the house, marvelling at the floors and the ceilings, dragging Mattheo along behind her. Mattheo laughed loudly, his joy echoing off the walls. Of course, all of the art decorating his walls was accented to Y/n’s taste and the colour palette was exactly as Y/n had hoped for all those years ago. 

“Dance with me,” she beckoned Mattheo one day, already spinning on the deserted dance floor. Mattheo would lock the doors to his manor and keep out the partiers forever and always if it meant he could see Y/n on his dance floor, waiting for him. 

Mattheo stared at her, his eyes bright with love. He swept her up in his arms, pressing her close, and they danced to nonexistent music. Y/n rested her head on Mattheo’s chest and whispered, “this is nice.”

“This is very nice, indeed. I hope to do it more often.”

Y/n’s fingers gripped onto Mattheo’s shoulders. “Matty…” she whispered. “You know my feelings for you. But I- Adrian-”

“Please don’t speak his name,” Mattheo pleaded. “And I know about him. But I don’t care about him. Please tell me you don’t care about him either.”

“He is my husband, Mattheo.”

“That doesn’t mean you care about him.” Y/n took a breath and stepped slowly back from Mattheo. His mouth parted slowly and desperation filled his eyes. His hands reached out in anguish. “Please, my love. Don’t do this.”

“I will never love him as much as I love you,” Y/n clarified gently. “But I don’t hate him, either. Over the years, I have come to care for him. It’s a complicated feeling, Mattheo, I’m sure you understand.”

“Marry me,” Mattheo suddenly declared. “I promise, my dearest, I will give you all and more.”

“It’s not fair to Adrian,” Y/n protested, her hands dropped to her sides. “We don’t live in a life where one can just divorce their spouse to pursue another. You know of the rigidity and the silent rules that if we don’t follow, the exile we face.”

“Exile of what?” Mattheo cried, helplessness in his voice. “You can move in here. I can give you the life we dreamed of.”

“The life I dreamed of included my parents and my loved ones,” Y/n objected. “Not an isolated life with only one of the many I love.”

“Anyone you love can come visit you if they want,” Mattheo offered. “I won’t push anyone away. I just want you.”

“You know they won’t visit,” Y/n’s voice broke. “You know people will ridicule us. And I am so sorry, Matty, but I don’t know if I could live with that.” Mattheo didn’t speak for a long moment, staring at Y/n’s neck. “What’s wrong?” she eventually demanded. “Do I have something on my collar?”

“No,” Mattheo murmured softly. “It’s just… you kept it.” He pointed to Y/n’s neck and reached out to finger the chain around Y/n’s neck. The woman couldn’t help but shiver under his light touch. “You kept it,” he repeated. Carefully, as if afraid he might break her, Mattheo lifted the hidden necklace that was tucked under Y/n’s dress. “My ring.”

“I couldn’t bear to get rid of it,” Y/n’s breath hitched and she swallowed back tears. “I’ve never taken it off. Even- even on my wedding day.”

Beside himself, Mattheo chuckled, though it quickly turned to a gasp for breath. “So even when he made love to you, you always kept my ring around your neck?” Tears slipped down his cheeks and Y/n reached up to quickly wipe them away. 

“I don’t want you thinking about that,” Y/n muttered, shaking her head at the absurdness of it all. “Please… just be here with me.”

“I’m here,” Mattheo could hardly get a couple words out. He pulled her close to him and pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. “You still haven’t said no to my proposal.”

Y/n laughed loudly. “I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“With you, I am always serious,” Mattheo grinned, bending down to look her in the eye. “And that wasn’t an answer. Why are you avoiding the question, darling?”

Y/n sighed, a coy smile on her lips. “Would I simply leave Adrian? What of my things? Adrian would come looking for me, you know?”

“I would buy you whatever you’re missing a thousand times over.” Mattheo stared at Y/n, his eyes holding all the tenderness that a lover was supposed to have. “I would protect you and Adrian would never know where you are. He will never harm you, I promise.” 

Y/n tapped Mattheo’s chest thrice and hummed. Mattheo’s heart fluttered and his lips brushed against her temple. Silently, he begged all the gods he knew of that Y/n would agree to be with him. His lips moved wordlessly, pleading, before Y/n said, “I will call you tomorrow, Matty. I’m sure Adrian already knows of our endeavours, but give me one night to collect my thoughts. Can you give me that much?”

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need.” He kissed Y/n’s forehead again. “Always in all ways.”

“Always in all ways,” Y/n repeated.

****

“Where are you going?”

Y/n’s shoulders tensed and she slowly turned around to face Adrian. A packed bag was on her bed. “Enzo, the sweetling cousin he is, invited me to stay with him,” she said. “I thought it would be fun to spend a night in East Diadem. To see how others live.”

“You? In East Diadem?” Adrian chortled a laugh. “And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

“Because I love my cousin,” Y/n reiterated firmly. “Are you forbidding me to see my family?”

Adrian’s head hung and he shook his head. “I may be rich, but I’m not stupid.” He hesitated before stating, “I know about Riddle.”

“My old friend?” Y/n asked smoothly. “Yes, he was a friend of Enzo’s. That’s how I met him, you know.” She cleared her throat and zipped up her bag. 

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Adrian then suddenly shouted out, his hair flying out of place and his face turning red. “He’s fucking my wife, that bastard! Why, I should- I outta- you bitch!” He growled and whirled around, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“Adrian.” Y/n held up her hands, trying to soothe his emotions. It was the only way she learned how. “I haven’t been unfaithful to you, I promise. I made a vow on our wedding day and I have since upheld it.”

Adrian grunted and demanded, “so tell me you love me.”

Y/n swallowed. “I- I love you, Adrian. Just not in the way you want me to.”

Her husband let out a yell of frustration and slammed his hands down on the back of an armchair. Y/n flinched. After a tense moment, he hissed out, “go, then. Leave me.” His voice rose to a crescendo and he shouted out, “but know that I will never let you back into this life again! No one will ever let you step inside Diadem West without rumours and hatred trailing behind you.” He let his voice drop and as Y/n shuffled back, he raised his head and looked at her, pleadingly. “I want to make you stay,” Adrian whispered. “I want to tell you all the ways I love you. But… But I think we both know I can’t.” He took a step towards her and held a hand out as if he wanted to cup her face in his palm. “You are so beautiful, Y/n,” he muttered. “But he makes you feel alive. You- you deserve that.”

“So do you, Adrian,” Y/n choked out. 

“I know,” he nodded once, conceding. “I know.”

****

It took four weeks for Y/n to officially move into the house across the bay. Immediately, she had sought out her cousin and stayed with him for some time. She spent many of those days sitting out on the lawn, staring out to the bay and her old house. Her hair would whip across her face and sometimes, Mattheo would come and sit a couple feet away from her, not saying a word. Mattheo knew she was experiencing the eroding feeling of guilt. He didn’t dare disturb her thoughts if, eventually, it would lead to him. What’s a couple more weeks when he had been waiting years?

Then, one day, Y/n turned towards Mattheo and said, “you promised to love me always and in all ways.” 

Mattheo’s head whipped toward her. The shame in his eyes was deep. “Yes,” he uttered.

“I think I’m ready to take you up on your offer.” 

Mattheo broke into a smile.

A year later, the pair was married. The band that had been around Y/n’s neck was now around her finger. Y/n’s parents refused to attend and she had spent the night crying in Mattheo’s arms. Enzo had taken the place of her father and walked her down the aisle. The wedding was sparse and while Mattheo’s aunt had come to offer her congratulations, as had one of Y/n’s old friends, the couple knew that their life would be a lonely one until they either made new friends or Y/n’s old friends in Diadem West came around. But they were happy. 

Grand parties weren’t a frequent occurrence, though every month or so, Mattheo threw a celebration for an unimportant holiday, simply to show Y/n off. He finally had the pleasure to kiss her in a room full of people and not be ridiculed. However, parties weren’t needed. As long as Mattheo woke up with Y/n in his arms, he would call it the most wonderful day ever. 

And when years had passed and their children would move out to begin their own endeavours, the house would lay empty. After decades had gone by and the mansion was simply a statement of extravagant wealth and the jubilance of society, people would wander in the house, marvelling at the gold and marble. Whispers would echo the hallways of the great love story that transpired within its walls. A large, dusty old portrait of the couple still hung above the fireplace, their eyes holding as much love as there was water in the bay.

[paradimeshifts7]

Coming to you a day late with a Halloween wip! Gatsby vampire au, I dream of youuuuu. Writing progress is coming slowly these days😅

Hope everyone had a wonderful night!!🎃

[sweetercalypso]

Joel Miller x The Great Gatsby

[spocks-husband]

Ohhh the urge to make a Justice League Great Gatsby AU where Bruce is Gatsby, Clark is Nick, Diana is Jordan, Talia is Daisy etc... lorddddd

[warpfactorsix]

consider: a jayvik great gatsby au, but instead of the obvious jayce-as-gatsby, mel-as-daisy and viktor-as-nick, we have machine herald viktor (like arc 2 era) as gatsby trying to make his ammends to sky as his proverbial “daisy” (like i’d view this is as platonic but that’s just a personal preference) with jayce as nick and mel as jordan. does anyone see my vision?

[finn-m-corvex]

I SAW MORE ASKS AND I AM RISING TO THE CHALLENGE o7

bioshock au (bc we were talking about it) - 11 and 20!

great gastby au - 15!!

halo au - 1!

Key you are activating literally so many of my inner demons rn-

Bioshock AU

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why? As much as I would love to say That Scene towards the end, for anyone who's played Bioshock it won't have nearly as much shock factor, so instead I'll go with the scene where Jay and Cole meet each other in Fort Frolic! Apparently how I write Bruise is very popular and I can't wait to get my hands on absolutely traumatized Bruiseshipping >:)

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much? Jay walks into Arcadia right after the Bathysphere Incident, Noland King swearing revenge upon Cliff Gordon. Arcadia is the first place that he sees with actual plant-life, and there he meets a curious android that's in charge of managing the place.

Great Gatsby AU

15. Do you have any unwritten scenes that you think about a lot? Ngl I have written exactly zero words for the Great Gatsby AU because it's not a project that I really want to tackle right now, but I think about the inevitable scene where Echo is going to shoot Jay dead quite a lot. Also the scene where Jay and Nya reconnect for the first time and Kai is silently fuming in the corner of the ballroom (bc for anyone new here, the Great Gatsby AU is Plasma)

Halo AU

1 What are you most excited about when you start to write / publish it? THE ANGST. THE TRAGEDY. HALO NEVER HAS A GOOD ENDING AND I CAN'T WAIT TO EXPOSE YOU ALL TO THE BITTERSWEET THAT IS THE ENDING OF HALO REACH. Also to eventually try and draw the Ninja as Spartans bc that's going to be a fucking nightmare but it will be worth it (hopefully).

Ask game here!

[theshippirate22]

ROARING

Miss Robin Buckley had never known silence in her life. She was a mirage, a shimmering well of infinite exuberant diction and complex syntax. She could talk her way into any situation- and then promptly talk herself out of it if the need arose- with the help of her unrecognizable awkwardness and insurmountable charisma. She’d gone to one of the finest prep schools in the country, quickly picking up as many languages as she could so that when English failed her, she’d have something else to replace it. She also picked up the art of business and the linguistics of sales, which worked so seamlessly with her babble, she was the top fountain pen supplier in the place by the end of her first semester. It was also there, in that dignified, brick and mortar establishment in South Carolina, while sitting in the headmistress’ office for the third time in two weeks (the first two times, she was scolded for speaking out of turn after being continuously warned and now she’d said something rather unbecoming in Russian to a girl that most certainly deserved it), that she met Steve Harrington. He’d gotten in a fight during his math class and earned himself a split lip and a concussion for at least the fourth time and the only reason they didn’t send him home immediately, was that Robin recognized him as a distant relative and noticed his panic at having to face his parents, and instantly convinced the headmistress that expulsion would have no phenomenal effect except to terminate the generous flow of donations from his parents. It seemed from that moment on, walking out of the office with nothing harsher than a slap on the wrist, that the two might never be separate again without devastating consequences.

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

message me to be added to the tag list! first chapter of ROARING coming soon!!

@alideities!

prev/next

[jokerislandgirl32]

Y’all please stop me 

Eight Words: Great Gatsby and Wild Kratts Crossover/ Alternate Universe

I mean come on, stranger things have happened, right?

I kind of have a cast list in mind, if anyone is interested.

[dragontheytummy]

what if gatsby was king midas and he called people "gold sport" instead

what if gatsby was a mushroom and he called people “old spore” instead

[tiredsmashbros]

DO YOU ENJOY THE GREAT GATBSY TSB

guys help this blue man in a box keeps yapping to me about this silly movie and musical called the great gatsby what do i do /j

NAH FR THO TY FOR GETTING ME INTO THE GREAT GATSBY BLUE THIS HAS NOW BEEN LISTED AS MY FAV MOVIE AND I AM SLOWLY GETTING INTO THE FIXATION INTO THE MUSICAL GUH ITS SO GOOD PLEASE GO HAVE A LISTEN GUYS !!!

also btw blue is gonna be so surprised by the smg3 drawing i've only had the sketch but now decided to color it bc why now :3c

ALSO !!!! THIS IMAGE IS INSPIRED BY BLUEBOX'S OWN GREAT GATSBY SMG4 MUSICAL AU !!!! PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN'T !!!!!!!!! https://www.tumblr.com/bluesbox/759605946711506944/i-would-like-to-add-my-hat-into-the-ring-with-smg4

also i cant for the life of me find the og psd file of this but thankfully i took a screenshot of this silly doodle i made bc blue and i watched the great gatsby togther and we.... made a tsb au out it HELP I LOVE THE GREAT GATSBY SO MUCH JAY MY BELOVEDDDD

also very random butt AS I WAS JUST ABOUT THIS POST THIS DAWKO SIGNED MY PRINT AND I NEED TO SHOW IT OFF OH MY GOD I AM SO HAPPY HELP AND RIGHT AS HE WAS RUNNING OUT HOLY SHIT I WAS ONE OF THE LAST ONES OH MY GOD I DONT HAVE TO WAIT FOR LONG YIPPEEEEEEE

ty my beloved british rat 💛

i have been waiting 2 years for this reprint you guys have no idea how actually happy i am to get my chance back at this poster again

[alenseress]

If you don't feel like reading in parts on social media, here's the entire comic so far

[miryum]

The Canary and the Robin (Jason Todd x Reader)

Summary: You find Jason being tortured by the Joker and decided to take him in, imperfections and all. If he happens to be your soulmate, so be it

Warnings: I know reader acts like a white person in a horror movie but bear with me, OOC Talia, descriptions of torture, Joker hurting Jason, descriptions of flashbacks of torture, allusions to sexual assault from the Joker unto Jason but not descriptive at all, panic attack, ignore locations and timelines, timer soulmates once they turn 8, swearing, a lotta angst (literally starts out with Jason’s funeral), but happy ending, hurt/comfort, Jason doesn’t have guns or an autopsy scar in this cause he’s Robin still and lemme tell you it’s so unnatural for me to write him without those, perspective switching, conscious wording (so everything is written like that for a reason), Jason’s awful parents and their drinking and harassment (just descriptions on them yelling and drinking and smoking), spoilers to Great Gatsby, kinda open ended, but also not at all? if that makes sense, lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 12k so grab some snacks and tissues

Canary in a coal mine is a common term meant to describe something that’s unusually sensitive to conditions that make it a useful early indicator of negatively changing circumstances.

Jason’s funeral was on May 16th, just eight months after he had been taken by the Joker. Alfred had chosen daisies, lilacs, and lotuses for the flowers, but Bruce brought a bouquet of hyacinths to lay on his son’s casket. As much as Bruce Wayne liked to flaunt his wealth, these hyacinths were hand pulled from his own gardens. Roots and dirts still clung to the end of the stems when Jason’s coffin was lowered into the ground. 

Dick had come in from Bludhaven. When he had heard the news, his timer stopped and reversed itself until it added a year and a half onto his time. He had just gotten a brother and had been learning how to be a role model when his brother was dragged away from him, kicking and screaming. It wasn’t fair, Dick kept repeating to himself. A teenager shouldn’t be targeted just because he eagerly trailed on Batman’s heels, snarky comebacks and smirks ready to fire.

There was a public funeral where paparazzi clicked away at their cameras and Bruce stood stoically in the front row, clearing his throat at the podium when he had to make a eulogy. There was then a private funeral where the casket was actually lowered beneath a gladiolus bush. There were no eulogies for none of the family could bring themselves to say much. It was just Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Barbara. Selina Kyle showed up that night in Bruce’s room and Dick pretended not to hear Bruce’s sobs. Alfred stood in the doorway of Jason’s old room, feather duster in hand. After a couple of minutes, he hung his head and walked off, closing the door behind him. Nothing was cleaned.

The next day, tabloids displayed the pictures of Bruce Wayne standing by a casket. Bruce stopped investing in any companies that did. His own stock dropped, but Bruce wasn’t answering his financial advisor’s calls. He wasn’t answering any calls. 

It was late one night and Dick couldn’t sleep. He had been wanting to return to Bludhaven, but whenever he opened his suitcase, he couldn’t bring himself to pack. He found Alfred in the kitchen, pouring some hot tea. “I figured you would join me one night,” Alfred commented without looking back. 

Dick couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his eyes. “Your sixth sense is never wrong, Alfred.” 

Alfred slid a cup over to Dick who took it thankfully, not caring that the tea burnt his tongue. Perhaps it was what he deserved for not being there to help Jason. “I should’ve-”

“Mister Grayson,” Alfred cut him off. “The Joker was ten steps ahead of Batman. Not even the powerful Nightwing could’ve helped. And you could not have flown to Africa in time.” 

“It was closed casket,” Dick whispered out. “I didn’t even get to see my little brother before he was gone.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. 

“It was closed casket because Master Wayne couldn’t find Master Jason’s…” Alfred exhaled and corrected himself, “He couldn’t find Master Jason.”

Dick’s head lifted and his hands clenched around his cup. “What?” he breathed out. Desperation filled his voice, “but Alfie, he could still be out there! Jason could be alive!” Alfred simply gave him a stern look and Dick’s stomach bubbled with nausea. “Yeah,” he muttered bitterly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” His jaw tensed and after a moment, he decided, “I’m going to go back to Bludhaven tomorrow.”

“Safe travels,” is all Alfred said.

It was then that Bruce woke from a nightmare of his dead son screaming out for him.

~~~~

You hadn’t meant to be passing by Arkham Asylum. It wasn’t something one did intentionally; in fact, many people went out of their way to avoid it. But it seemed as if fate wasn’t on your side today, for when your car broke down right outside Arkham Asylum, you didn’t notice the watch on your wrist ticking down quicker and quicker. You swore to yourself and took the mace out of your glove compartment before sliding your keys in between your fingers. Arkham Asylum had been practically abandoned for years, but perhaps there was a janitor or receptionist who could help you get service. Then you could call a mechanic and get the hell out of there. 

The gates to Arkham had rust creeping up the edges and the lock clanged sharply against its chains. Maybe there wasn’t going to be a receptionist in the building… But perhaps there would be a phone you could use. In order for the gates to creak open, you had to force your bodyweight against the metal and try to shove the lock out of the way, praying you didn’t get tetanus in the process. 

The door to Arkham, however, swung open without a sound. It seemed as if someone had been regularly visiting the Asylum, even if there was no one to visit – or love – in the building. “Hello?” you stage whispered, phone flashlight on, and finger on the button on your mace. 

There was clearly a reason why the public wasn’t exposed to Arkham. All reports were classified and no photographers were allowed in. Wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape, you stared around at Arkham Asylum. The halls were long and dark, meant to cause paranoia and confusion. It was certainly working on you. The only light peeking through was from the grime covered windows and your flashlight. The ceiling was crumbling slightly and you were pretty sure Arkham had been under construction when it had been abandoned; otherwise, how could you explain all the dust, debris, and graffiti? You didn’t even want to think of the disease-carrying rodents that were surely scurrying underneath your feet. 

“Is anything here? That can help me?” Your voice echoed down the cell block, vibrating off the metal bars and old bunks. 

You reeled back when your foot kicked a pebble, sending it ricocheting off your sneaker. After the pebble settled some yards away, you took in a steadying breath. You heard a faint sound, one that didn’t sound at all like a pebble. “Hello?” you asked again. Shadows danced around as you shone your flashlight down the hall, messing with your mind. 

When you strained your ears, it sounded as if a faint wail could be heard. Your brows furrowed with worry and instinctively, you started towards it. Your watch ticked down faster as disquietude and anxiety rippled through you like snakes, biting and twisting in your veins. Your flashlight bounced over empty, desolate cells as your pace quickened and the screams got louder. You contemplated calling the police, but when you checked your phone, you didn’t have any service. And who knew if the police would help or not? Arkham was a place only the brave or stupid went; right now, you were pretty sure you were the latter. 

The screams took you deeper and deeper into the Asylum and you prayed that you would be able to find your way out. If you ever got out… your mind immediately thought. 

It wasn’t long before the blood curdling howls shook you to your bones. They seemed to be coming from a cell, yet when you pointed your flashlight towards it, heart thumping at what you might find, there was nothing. But the screams were there. You weren’t making them up. Where the hell were they coming from– oh.

A shiver ran up your spine when you noticed the comical trapdoor in the corner of the cell. You wondered if the Arkham architects intentionally put it there when they were designing this horror house, or if an inmate had scraped a hidden passageway with a spoon they stole from the cafeteria. 

Nonetheless, when you pried open the door, a wall of whimpers and cries from torture hit you full force. You shook your head, steeling yourself, before swallowing down the queasiness. The goosebumps on your arms were full-time residents now. 

Your feet carried you down the dirt steps of the trapdoor. Your mind wasn’t particularly your own. Your brain was foggy. Your body felt like a child had taken your hand and was leading you down the steps. Later in your life, when you thought back to that moment, you knew the universe had been guiding you. But even if you didn’t make it out of Arkham Asylum, you knew your life was going to drastically change. The nonexistent hand squeezed yours in comfort as your heart jumped and pounded when the faint light at the bottom of the stairs grew brighter. 

A small chamber resided under Arkham Asylum, as you found out that day. In the chamber were two people. One held a crowbar dripping with blood. His back was turned to you, but any citizen of Gotham would recognise that pastel green and purple suit anywhere. The Joker was alive. 

But the second person caught your eye. He was strung up from the ceiling, crusty, brown chains trapping him midair. The red outfit he was wearing was being held together by tatters, but you didn’t know if the outfit was originally red or covered with blood. A black and yellow cape was clinging onto the victim’s back, burnt and torn. A green utility belt had been thrown in the corner, its pockets overturned and emptied. 

And your timer buzzed against your wrist.

You didn’t register it at first, but after a moment of incessant buzzing, you tore your horrified stare away from the ruined man and to your wrist. A crude joke bounced into your head: so either my soulmate is the Joker or someone who wronged him… Either way, not ideal. 

The Joker stood proud and tall, shoulders thrown back and grin wide. “Come on, Robby,” he taunted. “You and I both know these little excursions of ours go better when you make noise. How I love to make you sing…”

It was then you registered the Robin symbol on the man’s breast. You slowly pieced everything together, realising that the person in front of you was the presumably dead Robin. You couldn’t help the little, amazed curse word that slipped out from between your lips. 

The Joker slid out a syringe from his pocket and slunk up beside Robin, injecting the green serum into his neck. Joker chuckled as he pressed the liquid further into Robin’s neck, whispering into his ear, “now, now, you mustn’t leave me, Robby. But whatever would you leave for? Now that the Bats has forgotten you.” Joker was mercilessly teasing the sidekick, spit flicking onto his cheek. Robin whimpered, a parched and cracked noise from the back of his throat. 

“Louder, Robby, louder!” The Joker coaxed in a cooing voice. You grimaced and wanted to crawl out of your skin at his voice. Once you realised your mace wasn’t going to do you any good, your eyes darted around the small torture dungeon. Eventually, they landed on a discarded, bent pipe that had a disturbing red colour coated on. You willed yourself not to think of what the substance was. 

Even though Robin’s limp, swinging body was facing towards you, you doubted he could see you. With the drugs running through his veins, his vision would surely be blurred and his mind muddled.

It was just your luck when, as you were inching towards the pipe, your phone decided to work and began buzzing loudly, indicating a call from your friend, Talia. The Joker whirled around, crowbar in hand and you squealed, grabbing the pipe. Before the Joker could react, his eyes widening in shock, you swung the pipe at his head. With the clang of metal against skull, the Joker collapsed, unconscious. You stared down at him, disbelief flooding your body. Oh my god, I just killed the Joker. Or, at the very least, gave him a good concussion. Your hands shook as a little pool of blood seeped out from Joker’s head. You dropped the pipe and it clattered to the dirt floor. A little groan that escaped Robin and your still-ringing phone brought you back to Earth. 

“Shit, shit, I gotta get outta here,” you muttered, looking around frantically. Your phone kept ringing and with a swear, you brought it to your ear. “What?” you growled out. 

“Wow, what has your panties in a twist?” Talia asked back snarkily. 

You held your phone between your shoulder and your head as you hurried towards Robin. “Nothing, nothing, sorry,” you muttered as you attempted to free him from the chains. “Why’re you calling?”

“Why are you so stressed? You sound like you just ran a marathon,” Talia said through the phone. You could envision her checking her nails while doing so. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You finally got Robin’s wrists to slip from the chains and he fell down onto you. You grunted under his weight. Apparently, just because he had been starved and tortured for months didn’t mean he had lost his superhero muscle. 

Talia paused for a moment and you could practically hear the gears in her brian turning. “Do you need me to help hide a body?” she asked suddenly. 

You laughed nervously as you shifted Robin to your shoulder and began dragging him towards the steps. “No?” you finally answered. “Though if you wanted to meet me by Arkham Asylum with your working car and a cure for an almost dead superhero, that would be great.”

“I will be there in twenty minutes.”

~~~~

“How did this happen?” Talia demanded, more curiosity in her voice than malice and anxiety. You were in her passenger seat, staring at the wounded Robin who was laid in the back. Talia weaved through traffic with ease, headed towards the Yuyan Building.

“I don’t know!” you cried out, panic infusing itself into your blood. It felt similar to the way the Joker had infused serum into Robin. You clutched at the seatbelt, hoping it would take some of your dread. “My car just stopped working and then I was just going into Arkham Asylum like an idiot and I found the dead Robin! He was supposed to be dead, right? It was all over the news!”

“And then Batman got another Robin,” Talia added, almost bitterly. You shot her a confused look and she glanced over at you. Her eyes flickered down to your wrist before you yelled at her to focus on the road again. “You are a rational person, Y/n,” Talia began as the car screeched to a halt outside an imposing, ornate building. You stared up at it as Talia got out of the car. You scrambled to help her with Robin. The two of you each had one of his arms over your shoulders, his feet scraping along the ground, head lolling to the side, as you carried him in. “I do not think you would go into Arkham Asylum without something else guiding you,” Talia continued. “Do not think I did not notice your stopped timer. He is your soulmate, is he not?”

You nodded, not trusting your words. You were worried you would start crying if you actually had a moment to process all of the day’s events. “Will your dad help?” you asked finally, voice wavering.

Talia chuckled dryly, eyes narrowing on a fixed point ahead of you. She led you and Robin deeper into Yuyan Building. “If it gets on Batman’s good side? Absolutely.”

“I’ll take him after you’re done healing him,” you added quickly. “I’ll take him back home and care for him if you and your dad help me this one time.” You realised it sounded like you were begging for help. Briefly, you wondered what had happened in such a short time to make you care so much for Robin. Part of you decided it was what any rational, kind human being would do – help someone who was badly hurt – but another part of you knew that wasn’t the case. You felt tied to this boy you didn’t even know the name of. Whether it was through your soulmate bond or not, you knew you were connected to Robin. You felt his pain and terror. Even though he was unconscious, you could feel his resistance tugging against you. He didn’t want to go with you. He was scared of what you might do to him. His emotions dug into you and you felt a whimper crawling up your throat, begging for escape. 

It was then you steeled yourself and decided one thing: you weren’t going to let your soulmate die. 

Yuyan Building held deeper secrets, you realised. Talia directed you down long hallways and steep stairwells and you felt bad for the custodians who had to clean up Robin’s trail of blood. It was long minutes, full of you groaning under Robin’s weight and Talia looking unaffected, before Talia stopped at a large, ominous door. 

You couldn’t look Ra’s in the eye as he slung Robin into the Lazarus Pit. You could only watch the bubbling green liquid as Robin slowly sunk to the bottom. Agonising minutes ticked by, halted only by Ra’s and Talia whispers to each other. 

You hugged yourself tightly after five minutes passed and you called anxiously to Talia, “do- does he need help? Is he hurting? Why is it taking so long?”

“He had a lot of injuries, Y/n,” Talia reassured you, coming to place a hand on your shoulder in comfort. “He will be okay.”

Yeah. He’ll be okay.

~~~~

Jason’s eyes burned. Green was all that he could see. He tried to breathe in, but the only thing that filled his lungs was the green surrounding him. When the liquid filled his lungs and he coughed out, bubbles trailed up to the surface like a safety rope guiding the way. 

Jason stretched a hand out in front of him, muscles aching at disuse. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to run away, would we, Robby?” The Joker’s voice called after him as Jason kicked his feet futilely. “Not our little prince!” 

A flitting feeling coursed through Jason: curiosity and concern, but he was too weak to form a thought. His arm, reaching out towards the bubbles that led him upward, didn’t look like his own. He remembered the scars criss-crossing along it and he remembered the dirt and grime infecting cuts and burns, even digging its way underneath his nails, but he didn’t remember looking so… strong. Since when did he have the muscles and veins that looked like years of exercise had paid off? Batman had kept him fit – Robin needed to be able to hold his own, but he didn’t quite remember it working so well. 

His hand finally breached the top of the green waves, grasping up towards breathable air and safety. 

Green. Like the Joker. Another one of his charades. A playing card, to show Jason he wasn’t free yet. He was never free.

Everything was disillusioning. His vision veered sideways before becoming foggy and nausea crashed through Jason, like the waves in which he was trying to fight against.

“Stop struggling!” he heard someone cry out, “you’re making your own waves! You have to swim.”

He saw someone reaching out towards him and without a second thought, Jason extended his bandaged hand, clinging onto the buoy in the storm. Their hand was soft and comforting and dragged him out of the water. Jason allowed himself to be dragged. He didn’t have the energy to fight the Joker. He had given up much too long ago. 

“What did you do to him?” someone asked once Jason fell to the ground. The world spun around him and he couldn’t recognise whomever was speaking. He gasped in desperate air, filling his deprived lungs. 

“Take in a good, deep breath, Robby. Smell that blood? It’s yours. A reminder that Bats isn’t gonna come save you. Doesn’t it smell delicious?” The Joker hissed at him, inhaling himself. He cackled and licked his lips. “You’re a sweet little bird, aren’t you?”

“Why does he look like that?” the same voice asked. Jason heard a small thud over the ringing in his ears. 

“The Lazarus Pit not only receives, but it returns, ten times stronger,” a deep voice explained. “It takes what it has been given, and it blossoms it into its full potential. What it needs to become.”

Jason flinched away from the hands that rested on him. The hands retreated and Jason wondered what new tactic the Joker was trying. The Joker never retreated.

The voices were getting more frantic and his heartbeat seemed amplified. As Jason was slowly lifted up, he passed out.

~~~~

The next time Jason woke up, the first thing he noticed was the clock. There was a digital clock on a small table beside him, green numbers staring unblinkingly up at him. Green as in the Joker. Clock as in a bomb. Does he want me to defuse the bomb? Or is it all a trick? The Joker never let me see any clocks. Time was a valuable construct, one the Joker used to his advantage. If Jason didn’t know how much time had passed, the Joker could stretch the days and the torture. 

It took Jason a moment to blink the sleep from his mind. Then, he let his eyes flick around the room as his body stayed perfectly still. It was a tactic he learned from Batman – never let anyone know you were awake. He could categorise helpful information for later, such as possible escape routes, and if the Joker didn’t know he was awake quite yet, there would be less time for torture.

The former Robin was in a room. He didn’t recognise it and that scared Jason more than he would ever admit. There was a dresser opposite him with pictures on it. He couldn’t quite make out who was in the pictures, but it didn’t quite matter yet. A closet door was closed and next to it stood a tall mirror that had a blanket thrown over it. A small bookshelf sat beside him and when Jason had the mental capacity, he couldn’t help but feel the pull to read the titles. It smelled better than anything in a long time. Instead of urine and festering skin, this place smelled like lavender and vanilla. 

It was only then Jason realised he was laying on a bed. And there were no restraints tying him down to it. 

What new tactic was this? What scheme was the Joker pulling? What game did he want Jason to play? What was the objective? The trick Jason had to uncover to live another day? 

Green and purple and yellow whirled around Jason and he gripped his head, begging the colours to stop. Carnival music played loudly in his ears, that same damn tune for the past thirty six hours. 

Strapped to a chair, there was nowhere to escape the Joker’s mind games. Jason had been sedated more times than he could count and dragged to new locations where the Joker found new ways to torment him. Today’s lucky special was the Joker’s old hideout at the abandoned carnival. 

It wasn’t long before the Joker’s voice rang out from within hidden speakers. “Show me those street smarts, Robby! Play with me. Maybe I’ll let you go…” he jeered and inveigled. 

The spinning stopped and Jason planted his feet on the ground. His head dipped and his mouth hung open, eyes crossed and half-lidded. The Joker stood before him, leaning on his crowbar. “Ah, ah, ah,” the Joker tsked. “You're losing your touch, Robby.” The Joker ran his tongue over his teeth, lips curling up in a tantalising grin before lifting the crowbar back. 

Jason didn’t hear anything before he blacked out.

It had seemed that he had blacked out in real life too, for the time had advanced three hours and the sun had sunk in the sky. Next to the clock was a tall glass of water and a small plate of crackers. Two pills of unassuming tylenol sat nearby.

Someone had been in here, Jason realised. The thought made his skin crawl and he quickly flung off the sheets, not used to the feeling of cotton. After a quick analysis of his body, even though his skin was already wrecked and flayed, there weren't the telltale nail marks on his thighs that the Joker had been there in his sleep. The only thing out of the ordinary were the bandages and cleaned wounds. His armour was nowhere to be seen and he had been stuffed into pyjama pants and a shirt that seemed a bit tight. 

Panic flashed through his spine and Jason flung his legs over the mattress. He promptly collapsed and his knees ached at the impact. It took a moment of forcing his lungs open and letting oxygen flow through his system once more until he was able to crawl pathetically towards the covered mirror. His fingers twisted around the sheet and dragged it downward, letting it pool on the floor and around his legs. 

Staring back at him wasn’t his face. It was the face of someone who had lived ten more years and seen fifty more years of battle. 

Jason promptly swung his fist at the glass, shattering the mirror and letting the shards rain down. But he could still see his reflection. Jason forced his eyes away from the unfamiliar face and the scars he could feel burning into his skin.

Just a trick of the Joker. That’s all it ever was. He was never free and never more would believe so. Everything was consumed by that pale skin, green hair, and purple nails. Everything was a mind game followed by excruciating pain. 

His gaze drifted back to the water and crackers. It could be tainted. But the Joker also needed him alive to continue their games. There was always a grace period for Jason to heal before the next session began. 

He limped back to the bed, downed the water, not daring to touch the pills, and fell back onto the pillow. He shifted and adjusted the pillow. It felt uncomfortable. He threw it to the other side of the room before rubbing at his aching wrists. His skin there was red and irritated, not used to being out of chains. That was unusual, when Jason truly thought about it. The Joker knew how powerful Jason was. Jason had even managed to escape his chains once, back when he was healthy and convinced Batman would come and rescue him. But a bullet to the malnourished stomach was enough to stop anyone. 

He kept massaging his hands until his fingers skirted over the bare skin of the inside left wrist. It felt like something should be there. Something was missing. 

“Well well well,” Joker’s voice crooned in his ear. The man’s fingers curled around Jason's wrist. Long fingers tapped a tune on the proud watch that sat on Jason’s skin, ticking like a heartbeat. “Does our little Robby have a soulmate?” 

The boy’s muscles tensed, protesting against the Joker for the first time in weeks. He had been trying to keep the watch hidden for as long as possible, but he should’ve known it was futile.

“But who on earth could love you?” The Joker questioned deridingly.

Jason’s cracked lips parted and he forced a “no” from his parched throat. “Don’t.”

The Joker giggled – a high pitched, ugly sound that would haunt Jason’s nightmare’s for years to come. “Oh… and have you met your true love yet?” 

“Stop it.” Jason wiggled away from the Joker’s searing grip but nothing helped.

The psychopath’s nails embedded crescents into Robin's skin as he forced his wrist around. “No no no,” the Joker tsked as he watched the clock inch down towards zero. “You haven’t met them yet… what?” He turned back towards Jason, eyes wide with fake innocence. “You think they’re gonna come save you, Robby?” A burst of laughter bubbled from the murderer. “Never,” he hissed in Jason’s ear, making the boy cringe away, his chains swinging with him. 

A sob crawled its way up Jason’s lungs as the Joker grabbed his chains, steadying him, before licking a stripe up Jason’s cheek, leaving behind saliva and horrid breath. The Joker then licked his lips, relishing in the taste of Robin’s blood and tears. 

“You really think you deserve anyone?” The Joker whispered in his ear, more serious than Jason had ever seen him. His fist clenched around Jason’s watch and the boy let out a whimper. “You don’t.” The glass cracked under the Joker’s force. “Deserve shit.” He ripped the soulmate watch from Jason and threw it to the ground. The delicate watch sprang open and the timer stopped in its tracks. 

Jason let out a guttural scream as the Joker ground the glass into the dirt with his heel. 

~~~~

A loud thump yanked Jason out of sleep. A sharp feminine yelp followed and Jason was instantly on his feet, no matter the spots that danced in his vision. 

A small voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Alfred chastised him for not staying in bed and letting his body heal. “Master Jason, how are you supposed to fight crime if you can’t even walk straight?”

Nevertheless, Jason pushed open the door, raggedly breathing and clutching his side. He was sure he looked like a serial killer of some sort, blood staining through his bandages and hair sloppily matted to his forehead from sweat. 

A girl stared at him from across the room. She was smaller than him, was what Jason noticed first. He then noticed her eyes. They were a striking colour and seemed to bore into him, knowing his every want and desire. They were cautious, yet Jason thought he imagined excitement running deep within the girl. 

“Who’re you?” Jason mumbled out, leaning heavily against the doorframe. 

The girl took a breath and said, “I’m Y/n.” A blanket was curled around her feet, much like the blanket that Jason had snatched from the mirror hours earlier. Her hair was a bit messy and Jason categorised a pillow propped up against the armrest of the couch. 

“How’re you—” Jason cut himself off and shook his head. “What’re your… Who…” he struggled to find a question that encapsulated everything while not giving too much away about himself. 

Y/n took a step closer, almost as if he was a wild animal that she didn’t want to startle. It didn’t work; Jason stumbled back over his feet and back into the bedroom. Y/n didn’t follow. “I was at Arkham Asylum three days ago and found you.”

“What were you doing there?” Jason demanded, his words slurred. 

“My car broke down,” Y/n explained easily, though Jason didn’t believe her one bit. “I was looking for help and… found you instead. I had to call a friend for help.”

Jason was done with pleasantries. Alfred had frowned upon swearing, and the boy had quickly learned not to use the words he had heard on the street or the insults villains spat at Batman once they were in handcuffs. But he wasn’t standing next to Batman in bright spandex anymore. He was bleeding through someone else’s clothes and he wasn’t in his own body and there was a girl who was wearing a dark green sweatshirt and green reminded him of the Joker. “Bullshit,” he growled out. His voice didn’t have that prepubescent squeak to it anymore and his veined hand reached up to massage his throat. 

Y/n’s brows stitched together and she stared up at him, slipping the cuffs of her sweater over her hands. “No. It’s not bullshit. I promise,” she said, her voice saccharine. “Look, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days, trying to sleep off that poison the Joker put in you, I’m sure.”

Jason flinched back so hard that he stepped back onto the glass shards from the mirror. It cut into his heel and he winced, blood already leaking from the wound. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Y/n exclaimed, crouching down and then standing back up quickly. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to help you with that? Why don’t you sit on the bed and I’ll grab some bandaids.” Y/n hurried away out of the bedroom and Jason stood still. 

Help. 

Help you. 

“You’re gonna help me win back Batman, Robby,” the Joker whispered in his ear, spit flicking on his face. “You are vital. You will be his downfall.”

Help.

Help me.

Y/n came back, shaking Jason out of the parallels. “You’re not on the bed,” she commented. Jason’s feet automatically moved towards the bed — he knew better than to argue with the Joker, but then he remembered he wasn’t with the Joker. This was a girl who looked like one strong look would have her cowering beneath him, especially if he actually had the physique he saw in the now-broken mirror. 

“Who are you,” he repeated his question from earlier, turning back to look at her. 

“Y/n,” the girl reiterated, head tilting slightly. 

“No.” Jason shook his head. “Who are you. Who do you work for?”

Y/n’s brows scrunched together in confusion and she said, “well, my boss is named Marlene, if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t see how that’s particularly relevant.”

Jason’s chest rose and fell and he brought his hand up to claw at it. “Liar,” he hissed out. “You… you liar!” A yell curled its way up through him and his nails scratched at his throat, trying to tear this unfamiliar voice from him. Who was he? This wasn’t Jason Todd, the broken boy from Crime Alley. This was someone much more dangerous and unpredictable. Batman had always taught Jason how to analyse plans and choose the one with the highest success rate. But this was a different Jason. This Jason was a tornado, sweeping through every emotion he didn’t know how to handle. 

He saw green. And that only reminded him of the years spent under the Asylum.

Jason tore the sheets from the bed. He shoved things off the bedside table and consequently the lamp fell, its bulb shattering and then flickering out. The room was plunged into darkness. The only source of light was from the barely rising sun, peeking its rays into the window and bathing the edges of the room with pink and orange and yellow. 

The light danced across Y/n’s face as she stared around at the damage Jason was inflicting. Pity and guilt ran rampant on her face and she didn’t stop him.

Jason moved throughout the room, the only things he spared being the dresser and the bookshelf. 

After some time, he collapsed onto the floor, heaving in breaths. It wasn't long before he slowly leaned back to lay down. Y/n carefully sat down next to him, staying a good couple feet away. "I know you don't trust me," she said. She slipped her sleeve down her wrist, tucking in her hands. The outline of a watch pressed against the fabric and Jason stared at it numbly and unthinking. "But my name is Y/n. I work at the Gotham Gazette. My boss's name is Marlene. She's pretty nice and I'm up for a raise soon. I've lived in Gotham my whole life, even while my brother moved away the first chance he got. I've contemplated leaving for a long time, but I could never bring myself to do it." She pointed to a picture that sat on her dresser – one of the only things Jason hadn't destroyed. "That's him. My brother."

Jason didn't move his head to look. His green vision began to fade. 

“When I was growing up I had a fish. His name was Captain Sparkles,” Y/n kept on talking. “He was pretty cool and lived a long time for a fish. Two years, if you’re interested. I’m going to Gotham University and studying English so I can hopefully move up the line of command at the Gazette. My parents are chill and are empty nesters with two dogs out in the countryside. My dad always pledged never to get a dog, but now I’m pretty sure they’re ahead of me in the will.” She chuckled and tugged at her hair. 

Jason turned on his side away from her and he missed her eyes trailing after him sadly. Y/n swallowed and blinked away the sting of impending tears. 

“I have a little routine going,” Y/n continues, her voice cracking slightly. “You know, wake up, go to class — I’m a sophomore — come home and do homework. When I don’t have class, I go to work.” The girl wraps her arms around her knees and tucks her chin in. “What I’m trying to get at, I guess, is that I don’t work for the Joker.”

Jason flinched and cradled his head in his hands. Everything Y/n was telling him seemed true; she didn’t seem like an agent of the Joker, but his mind screamed at him to not trust anybody. Each syllable she spoke seemed like a reminder of how normal he was supposed to be. Day in and day out, when the Joker was pushing Jason’s limits, pulling him to the brink of death, Jason had wished to be normal. To not have met Batman that fateful day. To not have accepted the Robin pedestal. To go to high school and college and live in a dorm and get drunk and then regret it the next day. 

What he would give to be normal. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/n muttered. “I didn't mean to say his name. I know it must be triggering.” She exhaled and was silent for a moment. “I’ll go,” she eventually whispered. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Jason heard her stand and move to the door. No! Please don’t go. I- I can’t be alone. I don’t know how to be alone. But the words didn’t come. 

The door clicked shut behind Y/n. Tears made their way down Jason’s face and his body shook with the effort to keep silent. 

I would rather you torture me than make me be alone, he thought. My thoughts are more dangerous than any weapon.

~~~~

For all of Jason’s life, soulmates had always been in his realm of knowledge. Like bombs. He had heard the word in the news, playing with whatever he had scavenged off the street, his mom smoking on the couch behind him, TV blaring. 

But children are oblivious and it wasn’t until later in his life that he figured out what the words meant. ‘Bombs’ became synonymous with Gotham City and ‘soulmate’ became a word Jason held close to his heart. 

Everyone had a soulmate and it was common for the kids on the playground to compare their numbers ticking down. Younger children, who had yet to get their timer, gazed wistfully at older kids’ watches. Rumours of someone’s timer speeding up or slowing down blistered around the jungle gym and it chilled young Jason’s blood with the thought of not getting to meet his soulmate soon enough. 

But besides those insignificant bouts of worry, Jason was very proud of his soulmate. He would be running around the playground and when he heard someone bragging about how soon they would meet their soulmate, Jason would stop the game of tag and go over to compare numbers. 

Not everyone was as lucky as him, however. Some kids would be teased because their timer estimated that they wouldn’t meet the love of their life until they were on the brink of death. While Jason never stood up for the victim, he would never be the one to bully them. His own mom had smashed her timer when she met Jason’s deadbeat dad, wanting to defy the universe and choose her own lover. It had only led to jail time, alcohol, and negligence. Sometimes, late at night, Jason would wonder what happened to his mom’s true soulmate. Were they still out there with a paused timer, wondering who didn’t think them good enough? Did they also think they could find answers at the bottom of a bottle or did they pick themselves up and reroute their life?

What would’ve his life been like if he had two parents who loved each other and were destined to be together? 

But whenever Jason was feeling down, or he got a bad grade (which didn’t happen often), or he was beaten up in the alleyways of Gotham, or his mom smashed a bottle by his head and screamed at him, he would cast his eyes down to his soulmate timer and just remember that someone out there was for him. That someone was fated to love him. And very early on, from the moment he realised what having a soulmate actually meant, Jason decided that he would wait for however long it took and go through whatever it meant to find them. 

“Whose clothes are these?” Jason whispered, his voice cracked and desolate the next time Y/n came into the room to offer him the little food he could stomach. 

“My brother’s,” she answered easily, setting down the plate of toast and some other easy food. “I thought they would be a bit big on you, but then the Lazarus Pit made you ginormous, so they’re a bit tight now. Sorry.”

“Lazarus Pit?” Jason pushed himself to sit up, muscles groaning in protest. 

“I don’t know how much you remember,” Y/n admitted. “But once I got you out of Arkham, I brought you to my friend Talia. She has some… powerful connections to some influential people and was able to help heal you in the Lazarus Pit. I just didn’t know how much it would alter you.”

“That explains a lot,” Jason admitted dryly, thinking of his new physique, emotions, and tinted vision when he had gotten mad. 

Y/n leaned against her dresser. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to help, but I needed to. You were going to die and I need…” she trailed off and her eyes flicked down to her wrist.

“You need what?” 

“I couldn’t let someone die,” Y/n finally decided on. 

Jason accepted her answer. He felt a small tug at his chest, almost as if something wasn’t right and he wanted to correct it. “What’s…” His eyes trailed to her lap where she held her hands. His jaw twitched and he shook his head. “Never mind.” 

“You can ask me anything,” Y/n offered, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. Jason’s eyes widened when he saw her smile and his heart fluttered. Jason decided that, even if he didn’t trust Y/n yet, he would do whatever it took to keep that smile on her face. 

“No, I have nothing– I’m good– no–” 

“Spit it out, Robby. What do you want to tell your darling Joker? What are your… worries? Your concerns? Your dear Uncle Ace?” The Joker circled around an exhausted Jason. “Trust me. You can tell me anything…” His speech was slow and intoxicating. Alluring, was the word Jason would use to describe it. It was tugging him in. Jason’s eyes slipped down into sleep just as another needle pierced its way into his skin, courtesy of the Joker. 

Jason dug his nails into the palm of his hand over and over, fingers twitching over his cuticles. His face started to heat up and he swallowed roughly, blinking slowly. “I’m okay,” he mumbled out, even though Y/n didn’t ask. 

“Do you need me to leave?” she offered. 

Jason dragged his head back and forth, attempting to shake it. Eventually, it lolled back and banged against the wall. “Sorry, what?”

Y/n stood up on instinct. “Robin?” 

The title sent lightening up Jason’s spine and his gaze snapped up to stare at her, fuming. “Don’t- don’t call me that!” he screamed out. “I’m not! Stop it!”

Dearest Robin. How Batman will miss his little protégé. 

Robby… 

Robby… 

Robin!

“Let me go!” Jason shrieked. He wiped his hands on his shirt before reaching up and pulling at his hair. Everything felt wrong. “Why won’t you let me go?! Just give up,” he pleaded desperately. His eyes, wide and frantic, swept around the room until they settled on the shards of the mirror he had smashed.

His body was a graveyard.

It was only then that Jason truly comprehended how imperfect he was. 

Scars trailed down his arms and legs and he could even see a smattering of them peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Each scar and bruise was a reminder of each thing the Joker had done to him. 

Each scar is an adventure, Batman’s voice resonated in his head. An image of Batman patching up young Robin’s bloody nose flicked through Jason’s mind.

Each scar is a reminder you were never there for me, Jason thought bitterly. Each scar is a reminder that I’ll never be free of him. I’ll always be tied to the Joker. And that’s what terrifies me the most. That’s what makes me hate you, Batman. 

“Okay, okay,” Y/n surrendered, holding her hands up. “I’ll leave. But I can’t let you go. It’s not safe yet.”

It was then that Jason drove his fist into the wall. Y/n made a little squeak of surprise and seemed to flinch. 

She quickly left and Jason didn’t have time to feel bad before he crumpled onto the bed in exhaustion, bits of plaster now on the floor and sheets.

~~~~

Time after time again, the Joker visited him. The Clown Prince of Crime had grown bored with the relentless torture. There had been new tactics — he had to keep it interesting, of course — but even waterboarding hadn’t quelled the ache that the Joker felt after the boy had grown used to the whipping of chains against his skin, leaving the boy bruised and internally bleeding.

So it was time to pull out all the stops. The Joker strolled into the makeshift dungeon. Robin didn’t even look up at this point. “You look grim,” the Joker stated, pouting theatrically, even though his audience was a despairing one. He strolled over to the table where he kept all his instruments. “Which one, which one?” the Joker sang, running his fingers over the knives, corkscrews, ropes, and other devices to land on a pitcher of water. 

Jason inhaled and exhaled slowly. The Joker poured a generous amount of water into a glass before lifting it to Jason’s lips and tilting it back. “There you go…” the Joker cooed, caressing Jason’s cheek. “Drink it all up like a good little boy.”

Jason’s chapped lips searched hungrily for the water, not caring what the Joker’s motive was. He was too thirsty to wonder.

It was only the first in a long line of drugs. 

“I don’t know what to do, Talia,” a lilting, frustrated voice came from the other room, stirring Jason awake. He was sure that whenever he heard Y/n’s voice, he would snap to attention, ready to throw himself to his knees and execute whatever she commanded. 

Woah. Where did that dedication come from? 

Even when Jason assumed the title of Robin, there was never such blind complaisantness to what Batman ordered. He would always have some street-kid spunk in him.

So why was he feeling so utterly protective over Y/n? It had to be the fact that she saved him from the hellhole the Joker had carefully curated and manipulated. Didn’t it?

Or was it something else?

“No, I’ve been trying to do all my work online, and it’s been working, but I can only go so long before I have to go into the office or go to lectures.” Y/n listened to her friend for a long minute on the phone and Jason strained to hear them. “No, but I feel responsible – that’s the wrong word – but protective of him.” There was a pattering of feet as if Y/n was pacing. “This is kinda a big deal. There are movies and books written about this connection and yet, mine is huddled in my room, sleeping off drugs and the evidence of torture!” Her voice cracked up at the end and Jason physically stood up. 

Bile rose up in his throat and Jason’s knees slammed to the ground, pain shooting up his bones and reverberating in his muscles. He cursed under his breath and pressed his head to the cool hardwood, trying to overcome his nausea.

Stars swirled in his vision and laughs echoed in his head. Jason mumbled words of encouragement to himself, but they were distorted and ugly. Like the Joker. Oh, how Jason dreaded the thought of becoming him. His forearms hit the floor and instead of the Joker’s words stabbing at his brain, it was a static frame of white noise, blocking out everything. Vision was the first thing to go, eyes squeezing out the late afternoon light. The second thing to leave Jason, as everything does, was time. Was it minutes or hours he sat on the floor before the door burst open? 

Words were muted and Jason nodded when Y/n asked if she could touch him. Warm palms encased his jawline, thumbs brushing along his cheeks. “He’s not here,” Y/n whispered. “I’m here. Robi- no, tell me your name. Please.”

“Jason. My name is Jason.” Somehow, Y/n had eroded away his concern and distrust, replacing it with ease and invulnerability. He would never have thought it possible in such a short time, even without his history with the Joker. 

Y/n exhaled a small laugh and a bright smile came to her face. Jason looked up at her, brain still buzzing. “What? What’s funny about that?” he managed to get out. 

“Oh, no no no,” Y/n was quick to reassure him. “I didn’t mean to laugh. That was rude of me. I’m sorry.” One of her hands guided down to rest on his back, rubbing soft circles. In his anxious stupor, Jason curled up in front of her, instinctively resting his head on her lap. If he could see her face, he would’ve seen Y/n’s eyebrows shoot up with hopefulness. However, he definitely heard her intake of breath. “It’s a very nice name.”

“How- how does your boyfriend feel about me staying here?” Jason finally asked after a minute of him slowing his breathing. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Y/n said, sounding amused. 

“But you have a soulmate timer,” Jason pointed out. 

Y/n tilted her head, curiously. She didn’t think he had noticed that. One of her hands moved to Jason’s hair, gently brushing it back from his forehead. She ran her fingers through the white stripe which she had come to find very attractive. Tension left the boy’s shoulders and he tucked his head into her lap. “Everyone does,” Y/n replied. “It doesn’t mean I’ve found my soulmate yet.”

“Have you?”

“Yes…”

“Oh.”

Jason laid in her lap for a long minute and eventually asked her, “is he nice to you?”

Y/n laughed lightly, sighing a bit before saying, “he’s still getting to know me. He’s a very reserved and tentative person and we only met a little while ago. However, he’s been opening up pretty quickly and I’m very proud of him.” Her fingers tapped against Jason’s hair, curling the strands around her fingers before lightly scratching at his scalp with her nails. She noticed how his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when she did that. Tucking that information away for later, Y/n added, “he’s gone through a lot in the past and I just want to make him feel safe.” 

Deep in his bones, Jason could almost feel her sadness and dedication. He wasn’t sure what magic had given him the power to be so in tune with this girl, but he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from him. Not even her soulmate. 

Turning the conversation away from something that would surely wound him if he pried any deeper, Jason declared quietly, “I’m going to install some deadbolts and locks on your front door and windows soon.”

“Pardon?” 

“It’s not safe for you to help me.” It never is for anyone. I’m a poison, infecting everyone I touch. “I want to make sure you’re safe before I leave.”

“Leave?” Y/n exclaimed, staring down at him. “No, you’re not ready to go yet.” A part of her was worried she was being selfish, wanting her soulmate as close to her as possible, but one look at the bandages she had just replaced the night before said otherwise. There was less blood than there had been days prior, but Jason was not in any condition to leave bed, much less leave the apartment. 

“You can’t keep housing me forever, Y/n,” Jason muttered. “And I’ll be damned if I’m the reason you get hurt.” His head was still in her lap, but he couldn’t meet her eye. It was imperative that he play with the seams in his shirt. 

Otherwise she might see him beginning to cry.

“Please leave,” he begged, voice breaking pitifully. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to argue, gently slipping out from her place underneath Jason and resting his head softly on the ground before closing the door behind her. 

The nightmares were worse that night. ~~~~

True to his word, Jason ventured out into the apartment the next day like a zoo animal inspecting its new habitat. He crouched his shoulders, bowing his head in an attempt to diminish his size. He still wasn’t used to being so large and accidentally bumped into the kitchen counter and a lamp. 

He was able to install the majority of the new locks and deadbolts until he slid the deadbolt of the front door closed. It whined and creaked beneath his fingers and his mind flashed back to when

Jason awoke slowly. A small groan left his lips, but he stayed still. It was a tactic he learned from Bruce – never let anyone know you were awake. He could categorise helpful information for later, such as possible escape routes, and it was quite possible that he was one movement away from death. He had to be careful. 

But this wasn’t Africa. This wasn’t where Jason was desperately searching for his mother when Batman ran into the warehouse, seconds before the Joker let loose a bomb. 

That’s all Jason could remember. 

Blood was sticking his hair to his head and Jason clutched his side. It ached from bruised or broken ribs that pressed to his skin. However long he had been unconscious, it had been quite a while. His body was already malnourished and crying out for medical care. 

Jason attempted to crawl to a standing position, but when his ankles and wrists caught against metal, restraining him, he knew something else was at play. 

The whine and creak of a deadbolt unlocking caused him to turn his head towards a door he hadn’t noticed. A man in a pinstripe suit stepped through, a long crowbar in hand. Jason didn’t need the upturned red lips to know who was there. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Robby,” the Joker coaxed as Jason stared up at him, pure terror gripping his veins. He had never been so close to the Joker without Bruce. Where was Bruce? Why wasn’t he here? The Joker squatted down to Jason’s level, running a gloved hand over the boy’s bloody hair. Jason flinched away, but it didn’t deter the Joker. “You and your Uncle Ace are going to have some real fun.” 

“Where is he?” Jason sobbed, scared when he didn’t feel the blood on his hair. Why wasn’t he bleeding? What was the Joker’s new game?

“Where is who?” An unfamiliar voice asked despairingly. 

“Bru— Batman,” Jason corrected himself in his stupor. “B-Batman.”

Y/n stuttered, “I don’t know Batman. I’m sorry.”

Jason groaned in pain before a hysterical laugh bubbled from him. He clutched his stomach, on all fours, eyes wide and clouding over with green. Must he always be connected to the Joker? If he could eradicate that damn colour, he would. His fingers ghosted over the place that the Joker threatened to brand him. 

“Maybe I’ll make it permanent on our five year anniversary,” the Joker hummed, knife gently poking into Jason’s cheek. The faded scar of last month’s ‘J’ was what prompted the Joker to re-carve it into the boy. Blood dribbled down Jason’s cheek, joining his salty tears. It didn’t hurt, the wound being surface level, but just the thought of more things tied to the Joker made him gasp for air, crying softly. 

“So you’ll always be reminded of who was the one to beat you. The Clown Prince of Crime!”

Y/n had barely noticed the ‘J’ until Jason dug his nail into his cheek, tracing the scar. The path was imprinted into his memory. 

The skin turned red at the irritation and Y/n caught Jason’s wrist the next time he moved up to trace it again. “Stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

Jason muttered things under his breath at her, but he didn’t pull away from her hold. “He branded me,” he finally spit out. “And it’s only because you found me that he didn’t carve it into my skull,” he said sarcastically, malice in his voice. His eyes blazed a fervent green and he shook his head. “But at least I knew what was coming. At least I knew that a month had passed when he redrew his initials.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but Jason spoke before she could. “I… I’m worried,” he began slowly. “I’m becoming more of the Joker than I am Batman. I was supposed to look up to Batman, but what if he and the Joker are one and the same? Both hurt me. One abandoned me and the other took that for granted.”

“He didn’t mean to abandon you, I’m sure,” Y/n whispered. “No one would ever willingly abandon you.”

Jason grumbled out, groaning at her words. His lips twitched downwards and his biceps flexed. “No one? Everyone did!” he screamed out. “My parents, Batman, Alfred, Dick! Everyone abandoned me!”

Y/n ignored the last name Jason listed off, before murmuring, “I haven’t.”

“Not yet,” Jason whispered after a moment. “But you will.”

~~~~

A couple days later, Jason peeked out of Y/n’s room, one of her blankets in hand. “You deserve your room,” Jason mumbled when Y/n looked up from her book, astonished. 

“I– Jason, you need the most comfort,” Y/n said, gently closing her book. “I’m fine on the couch.”

“You need to get back to work soon,” he said, hugging the blanket close. “You said it yourself. I can’t be the reason that you’re putting your life on hold. You- you need to get back to normal.”

“You are my nor–” Y/n cut herself off before exhaling slowly. “Don’t worry about me,” she began. “I’ve slept on the couch many nights when I had papers to complete or binge-watched too many episodes of The Good Place.” 

Jason’s features softened slightly and he took a step forward. Y/n took the hint and scooted over on the couch, placing her book on the small coffee table she had. “What’re you reading?” he asked as Y/n turned on the television, opening up to the first episode of The Good Place. 

“The Great Gatsby, for one of my English classes,” Y/n said. 

“Really?” A smile slowly grew on Jason’s lips, something he hadn’t experienced in years. His muscles ached a bit from the disuse, but Jason was now addicted to the feeling. 

Y/n decided that she was now also addicted to the sight of Jason smiling. “Yeah. We’re covering the symbolism of water that spans throughout the book. In fact, in the first couple of pages, Fitzgerald references the White Star Line, which is a boat that sank on the same route as the Titanic. Gatsby, obviously, dies in the water, sinking, just as those boats did. Fitzgerald really is an excellent writer.”

Jason was pretty sure he was in love. Or maybe he still was on drugs. Whatever the feeling, it was nice and unexpected and new. 

“I do think you’ll like The Good Place,” Y/n continued. “I won’t spoil anything, but it has some pretty amazing underlying themes.”

“I’m sure,” Jason replied quietly, burrowing under the blanket. It didn’t quite manage to hide his large frame, but it managed to hide his quickening heart and blush that was slowly spreading. 

Just before the first episode started, Y/n quickly hurried to make some popcorn. She plunked the bowl in between the pair and then snatched some blanket away from Jason. “You run hot,” she explained when Jason shot her a bemused look. 

The Good Place was a wonderful show, as Jason soon learned, but what was more wonderful was when Y/n’s cheek pressed against his shoulder and her knees curled up and her eyes fluttered closed. When her breath slowed with sleep, subconsciously trusting him enough to be at her most vulnerable, that, Jason found out, was what was truly wonderful.

Bruce Wayne had never before seen a street rat more excited to see Batman, especially when that street kid was trying to steal from him. 

But what was particularly amusing was that the boy wasn’t particularly excited to see him, but more excited to show Batman his soulmate timer. 

“No! No, you don’t understand!” the boy cried ecstatically. “It just fast-forwarded! Meeting you means I get to meet my soulmate sooner!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, eagerly shoving his wrist towards Batman’s cowl, showing the vigilante his timer. 

“Yes, very… exciting,” Bruce hummed out, not sure whether to laugh or reprimanded him for trying to steal the Batmobile’s tires. 

The boy laughed, a big grin covering his small features. “I wonder what they’re like. Have you met yours yet, Batman?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows and a chuckle slipped through. “Yes, I have. It’s a wonderful thing.” 

As the child kept rambling about his soulmate, Bruce knew that he had just found the next Robin. 

~~~~

Y/n sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed. She had a textbook in her lap and was mumbling out phrases for memorisation of an upcoming exam. A small smile couldn’t help but expand on Jason’s face as he listened to her mumbles. He paused from his work in the small kitchen, back muscles rippling as he reached for the marinara sauce. When he went to dump the pasta into the strainer, the pot clanged against the metal faucet. 

The Joker rattled his crowbar against Jason’s chains.

“Jay?” Y/n said softly, guiding him out of his memories before he could get too lost. “You can stop straining the pasta. All the water’s gone.” 

“What?” he choked out, turning his head so he could see her.

“The pasta.” Y/n shifted forward so her legs hung over the edge of the counter. “It’s okay. It’s been okay and it will continue to be okay. You- you can let go.” The euphemism wasn’t lost on Jason.

He let the pasta pan drop in the sink and faced Y/n, eyes shining with unshed tears. “No. That’s not what I meant.” Swallowing down the feeling, Jason continued, “what did you call me?”

“Jay,” Y/n whispered. 

The Joker paced around Jason after a few days without any torture. “It’s been too long, Robin,” he said, shaking his head. “I think it’s time to make you sing for your Uncle Jay.”

“Is that okay?” Y/n asked softly. 

Bruce shouted from the other room, “Jay! Come on! The gala’s starting soon.”

“Jason,” Y/n repeated. She reached out and touched his shoulder and the boy came to stand between her legs. Jason dropped his head on her shoulder, beginning to sob quietly. Immediately, Y/n brought her hand up to rest on his head and the other arm to curl around his back. “Don’t you dare,” she shook her head as Jason began mumbling his apologies. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

And suddenly, everything was okay. Because Y/n was there. “Bruce called me Jay,” he murmured out. “An- and then he called himself Mr. Jay.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to trigger-“

“No, it’s okay,” Jason looked at her, eyes shining with tears. “I like it when you do it. When you call me that.”

“You do?” Y/n asked, hands on either side of his face, cupping them closer and when her hands trailed to hold his neck and then one brushed back his hair oh this must be heaven, Jason thought, eyes fluttering shut. What he would give to live within her arms, always feeling safe and always feeling loved. She had that strange power over him and while Jason usually didn’t like people having power over him, he decided that when it came to Y/n, he didn’t mind. Not at all.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice lilting up with an infliction of infectious love. 

Jason stood there, comfortable in her arms and secretly hoping that Y/n would never have to go to work and would always just stay here. Where he could just keep… holding her and touching her and making sure she was safe because if Y/n wasn’t safe, Jason was pretty sure he would go on a rampage. If Y/n wasn’t safe, if Jason wasn’t holding her, then it was only because the Joker had found him and ripped him away from the only thing he had ever loved. 

And that would’ve been the cruellest method of torture. 

No amount of chains would hold him back. No amount of drugs would make him forget Y/n. And no amount of hate would make him forget the amount of love he felt when Y/n held him close and he could hear her heart beating steadily. In that moment, Jason could pretend her heart beat for him. 

He knew his heart beat for her. Then his mind flashed back to it all.

The boy’s muscles tensed, protesting against the Joker for the first time in weeks. He had been trying to keep the watch hidden for as long as possible, but he should’ve known it was futile.

Jason’s cracked lips parted and he forced a “no” from his parched throat. “Don’t.”

“Stop it.” Jason wiggled away from the Joker’s searing grip but nothing helped.

Jason let out a guttural scream as the Joker ground the glass into the dirt with his heel. 

“Oh, picky picky picky,” the Joker teased. “Sensitive, are we?”

“Lemme go! Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare!” His voice cracked and blood began to trickle down his arms as the chains rubbed against his irritated skin and broke the surface. But he would take the pain a thousand times over if it meant he could get to his watch. 

His soulmate. His love. It was all gone.

“Yes!” the Joker cried out, exclaiming loudly. His hands began to shake and a large grin spread on his maniacal face. “Yes! Emotion, Robby! This is what I want! Give me the fucking emotion! If I had known, I would’ve smashed that watch a long time ago.”

Jason lunges towards the Joker, face contorted with rage. “Don’t you fucking dare! Get- stay- no! No!” 

It was the most he had ever fought against the Joker. And the Joker adored it.

“You… you’re my…” Jason choked out, jaw tensing slightly as the dots began to connect.

He didn’t know when Y/n had begun to cry, but as tears streamed down her face and she nodded desperately, things seemed to all click into place. “It took you long enough,” she joked pathetically.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jason breathed out, his hands tightening on her thigh, a protective instinct washing over him. “Oh, no, no, no,” he shook his head and brought her head in his hands, brushing away the tears. “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s not that,” Y/n’s voice cracked. “I’m not unhappy, not in the slightest—” Jason was so sure of their bond that it hadn’t even crossed his mind that she might reject him or not love him due to his past. “—but I just never thought that you would- that I would-” She hiccuped and Jason’s eyes darted across her face, wanting to somehow help, but so unsure of himself.

Slowly, Jason sank to his knees. Y/n still sat above him, on the counter, staring down, baffled. Her eyes were red from crying and her lips were parted, but she had never seemed more beautiful. “What- what are you doing?” she murmured. 

“I’m showing you how much you affect me,” he answered simply. “Quite literally, you saved my life, Y/n. And if that’s the only way you touched my life, I would consider myself the luckiest man on Earth. If no one has told you those words before, then everyone else is a fool. If you allow me to stay around and cherish the best thing that’s ever happened to me, gladly, I will.” Y/n slowly slipped off the counter, standing before him. “But that’s a lot of ‘ifs’. And I’m not willing to potentially lose you over some ‘ifs’. I know I’ve made you uncertain and I’ve wrecked your apartment and I’m so sorry,” he chuckled dryly. Jason’s hands were shaking as he slowly slid them up Y/n’s legs. She shivered under his touch, backing up until she hit the counter behind her. Jason lifted his hands from her, giving her a moment if she needed, but one look in her eyes led his hands right back to her body. “You’re like a drug,” he whispered, pressing his face to the side of her thigh. 

“Drugs are very very bad,” Y/n managed to get out. 

“I know.” A small smirk appeared on his lips. His lips suddenly looked very kissable. “The Joker taught me that. If I could go back and kill him, I’d do it in an instant, but… I’d also thank him. And I’d thank Batman. And Nightwing. And my mom. And everyone else in my life because they all led me to you.” Y/n’s knees buckled and Jason helped ease her down so she was sitting in front of him. He choked on his tears slightly before saying, “so many people believe in equality in the universe. So if all of that is true, then perhaps every bad thing that ever happened to me was just leading up to you. You… are so good that the universe needed to even it all out.”

Y/n began shaking her head vehemently. “Then let me damn the universe,” she whispered. “Because clearly, it’s been unfair. You were gifted to me, Jason. It’s not fair that you went through so much shit while I lived a fairly light life.”

“Maybe I’m not good enough…”

“Don’t you dare suggest that,” Y/n cut him off sharply. 

“Then perhaps I took the hardship you were supposed to endure,” Jason offered the explanation. Before Y/n could argue, Jason said, “and I’d do it again.”

Y/n laughed lightly, drying her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I don’t want you to go through that again.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need to,” Jason muttered, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle into Y/n’s neck. He slowly, as if testing the water, pressed a kiss to her skin. Feeling her inhale, Jason grinned and repeated the gesture, wondering if he would get the same reaction. He did. After a moment, he exhaled, his breath tickling Y/n. “I’m going to need time,” he muttered. “I’m not going to be the perfect soulmate you deserve right away.”

“I don’t expect you to be. You’re already perfect to me.”

“I’ll work on it,” Jason compromised. “I want to deserve you.”

“You do–”

“Y/n,” he pleaded desperately. “Let me do this for you. Let me be the best Jason Todd for you.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to back down, Y/n nodded after a minute. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll get through it all together.”

“Maybe we should seal the deal with a kiss.”

A bubbling laugh filled Jason’s ears and he couldn’t help the large grin that came over him. “Hmm,” Y/n conceded. “Alright.”

And so they did.

“Mom, why’re we here?” A small hand gripped onto her mother’s. 

“I signed us up for a soup kitchen,” her mom explained. “It’s coming to the holidays and we should be doing something good for others. Gotham isn’t always the nicest place to live and we’re fortunate enough that we can help when needed.”

“Hmm,” the girl conceded. “Alright.” She puzzled a bit over the thought that some people weren’t as fortunate as they were, before asking slowly, “do we need to help them any more than usual?”

“What do you mean, Y/n?” the mom asked, checking the street names as they passed. The girl frowned, her hair in small pigtails. “Well… Should we have brought clothes? Or blankets? How… How much do they need help?” She struggled to find the right words.

“No, they’re not homeless,” her mom said. “They just need a bit of help bringing food into the family, you know?”

“Okay,” Y/n accepted the answer easily. 

“Just, hold my hand, will you?” the mom said, even though her daughter was already clutching her hand. “This isn’t the safest part of town, though nothing bad will happen. The sun is out, so there’s nothing to be worried about.” 

Out of nowhere, a small boy barrelled out of an alleyway, shouting at some other boys that were running behind him. He crashed into Y/n, who’s mom scooped her up on instinct. “Oh, I’m sorry!” the boy cried out, head whipping from the two females back to the people chasing him. The boys behind him carefully came to a slow once they saw an adult with her daughter. “Uh, where are you two ladies going?” The boy asked, eyes darting back and forth between the groups. Ultimately, he decided that a stranger was more safe than those kids, simply because she was a mom.

“To the food kitchen,” Y/n supplied before her mom could shush her. 

“I can show you the way!” The boy jumped at the opportunity, beginning to walk backwards away from the group of bigger boys. Y/n’s mom looked between the malnourished boy who was silently begging with his eyes to the group who had a smearing of blood on their knuckles.

“Okay…” she decided. “Show us the way.”

The young boy jumped up and began striding away, beaming with the safety of an adult. Y/n’s mom set her down carefully, gripping her hand tighter than before. “Stay close by,” she demanded. Y/n nodded. 

The boy had dark hair that was cropped slightly at the sides with a tuft of it that fell over his eyes. His eyes were blue and he wore a red hoodie that fell just a bit too long over his jeans. “Wow,” he chirped as the trio got farther away from the alleyway. “Thanks. Let’s just say I’m not exactly on those guy’s good sides.” He kept rambling, Y/n’s mom shooting him cautious looks every once in a while, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What’s your name?” he asked Y/n, skipping over to walk by her side.

“Y/n,” the girl replied. “Y/n L/n.”

“That’s a nice name,” the boy grinned. “How old are you?”

“I’m five.”

“I’m seven!” The boy placed a haughty hand to his chest. “But my birthday’s tomorrow.”

Y/n’s mom hummed. “Oh. Are you excited to get your soulmate timer?”

“Yeah!” The boy beamed up at the woman, turning a corner. “Super excited. But this is the soup kitchen. You know, my mom should be stopping by soon. But thanks!” He began jogging off, waving goodbye. 

“Wait! What’s your name?” Y/n called after him. 

“Jason! Jason Todd.”

[zu-is-here]

in a messy poster mood cause bang bang ♪

[disacurveball]

What if… Optometrist AU / OC… (Oculist Falls)

The GF AU brainworms have been taken hold of me and this happened. AU where One Other Euclydian survived the universe’s destruction, and it was Bill’s childhood optometrist.

A little bit about the Optometrist himself:

His name is T.J. Cross. Definitely not a literary reference from on Bill’s (least) favorite classic. He’s definitely not green for the same reason. I imagine his surname is a common one in Euclydia, as it is a shape. It fits him well though, reflecting his stern attitude.

He became an optometrist because he actually has an eye defect himself. Born with one “normal” eye and one that could see More. Defects are not allowed in Euclydia. He figured out how to blind himself to what he Shouldn’t See.

He’s nearsighted in his 2D eye, so he wears a monocle.

I’ve decided to combine this OC with evil/Blind Eye Fiddleford AUs, since both share the same goal: To Blind and To Forget.

Basic Plot:

The Billford Portal incident still happens and Fiddleford is left with a sight he wishes to forget. Except this time, he gets the idea for the memory gun in a dream, from this strange figure who just appears to give him encouragement. Obviously, he’s seen what happened to Bill and Ford so he’s not too keen on trusting something like this, but continues with the memory gun plans as normal. He won’t fall for flattery like Ford, so it’s important he thinks most of his ideas are his own free will.

Fiddleford still comes up with the idea for the Society of the Blind Eye, except this time— there’s a buffer in his head that’s keeping him from going crazy and subtly limiting his usage of the memory gun on himself. With this buffer (the optometrist) subtly creating blueprints with Fiddleford in his dreams every night, his tech patents make him a boat load of money. So much so he can buy out the Northwests and put Gravity Falls on the map.

He’s now the eccentric rich inventor, reclusive but throws grandiose parties in the manor from time to time to keep up appearances (and ward off the mansion’s curse.) But in the background, he’s leading the Society of the Blind Eye. And getting subtle guidance to expand…

Bonus:

[vincent-is-vintage]

Giddy Upsby🐎

Gatsby Cowboy AU for my monthly postcard club, join by May 31st to grab one