#he would be the girl next to you at girl scout camp who keeps you awake by showing you her horse book

[spottedgardeneelstan]

if binghe could do this he would’ve been able to jump over the endless abyss

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. IV

there are two wolves inside of you: one wants a slow burn, the other wants them kiss immediately

🗡

Daenys and Cregan traveled for three days thus far. Daenys was proud to say that she had adjusted well to the temperature of the day, while they were traveling. Night, however, was a different story.

The first night, she tried to sleep in the tent that Cregan kindly set up for her, insisting that a princess should not have to do such a tedious task. She didn't sleep for a single minute, riding her horse like a dead girl walking. The bite of the air exempted her from sleep, although she considered no sleep better than waking up in the midst of a nightmare again.

The next night, she planned to sleep under Morningstar's wing, but the dragon had insisted on leaving after the tents were set up, apparently having a strong dislike for Dusk. The direwolf felt the same, protectively hovering in Cregan's vicinity. A cute effort, seeing as the dragon made him look like a mere pup, but Daenys would never say that aloud. So, she spent another sleepless night in her tent.

The second day, she had fallen asleep right on top of Mylo. The sudden 'thump' of weight falling onto the snow was what alerted Cregan to the princess on the floor. Mylo stopped, too, concerned at the weight leaving his back.

Daenys awoke to a worried Cregan cradling her face, thinking her dead from frostbite. When she opened her eyes, he just sighed heavily and sat back on his haunches. "What happened?" She asked, sitting up to meet his eye.

"You tell me," he grumbled, standing. "You fell off your horse with no warning, I thought I'd have to rush to the Winterfell's maester." His voice was low and stern, but clearly the stress from the situation had burdened him greatly.

"Do I still need to?"

"No, of course not. I must simply be tired." She took the outstretched hand gratefully, standing and dusting snow from her clothes.

"That's a gross understatement." Cregan deadpanned, not letting his gaze leave her, hands hovering to catch her in case she fell again. "Have you not been able to sleep, princess? Why haven't you come to me?"

"To you?" She flushed, "Why would I?"

"I could keep you warm. Isn't that your problem, the night's chill?" He asked gently, innocently.

"I..that is most improper. We can not be alone in a tent together, even with good intentions." Daenys told him, making a point to avoid his stare.

"This is the North, we are not so prudish that we forget our health for our 'modesty.''" He laughed, then hesitated slightly. "What about your first night at Winterfell? You didn't seem to mind that I stayed with you, then."

"I wish not to speak of that night. I hope you forget it." She spat, speaking quick and precise. She should not have left her chambers that night. She should have tried harder to resist her mind.

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "If you wish, princess."

"But, if you're so uncomfortable with it, I can command Dusk to sleep in your tent."

Daenys glanced at the direwolf, who had gone ahead of the stopped party to scout. She just barely made out his brown shape amidst the snow. "Thank you."

He helped her back onto Mylo, then mounted Red himself. "We will just travel a little more, I know a place that we often camp at just ahead. I need to hunt anyhow, while you rest."

Cregan left no room for arguing, gesturing for her to walk side-by-side to him instead of behind.

Cregan hunted after setting the tents up, taking Dusk with him. Morningstar rested her wings in the clearing, huddled between the thin trees awkwardly. Daenys sat next to her neck, stroking the dragon absentmindedly, "such a trouper, my girl. Never complaining." The dragon purred at the praise.

That night, after a hearty meal of rabbit, Dusk had slept soundly in her tent, small breaths of air visible above his little black snout.

Daenys still couldn't sleep, even with the wolf's warmth.

The third morning came painfully slow, hours ticking by while she lay completely still. The urge to take a walk and get extra energy out was nagging at her, but she didn't want to risk upsetting Cregan again, especially so soon.

So she dealt with it, telling Cregan that she had slept much better that night and trudging on through the snow.

As they got further north, the ground became dusted with heavier snow, the horses walking slower than when they first began their walk. She understood why the walk was two weeks, now, despite the distance not being that far.

Daenys vehemently ignored Cregan's stares on the back of her head. That morning, when they had packed up, he instructed her to start walking ahead of him. Though annoyed, she understood his motives.

The third night came fast, Daenys feeling the weight of exhaustion on her mind and body alike. She could hardly keep her eyes open, choosing to hide that by not looking at Cregan the whole day. Her arms felt like jelly, holding the reigns of Mylo required all of her concentration throughout the day.

Finally, they were off the horses and settled around the small fire Cregan made. He cooked some more rabbits above it, silent as he focused. Daenys took the moment to shamelessly stare at him.

His brown strands fell around his face, framing it in a soft way that did not match his northern hardness. As they traveled, it became more unkepmt. It's hard to fix your appearance with no mirror, and it's hard to care when you're just riding a horse for hours straight. Daenys ran her han through her own hair shortly, hoping the braids she had been putting it in didn't look too messy.

Lit by the warm light of the fire, every detail of his face was clear. From his steely grey eyes, straight brows that furrowed ever so slightly in his focused state, and small scar on his chin that she had never noticed before.

His features blended together perfectly, a symmetrical picture.

As she was handed a leg, Daenys spoke up. "Where's the scar from?"

"Scar?" Cregan's brow furrowed deeper, thinking hard about what she was talking about.

She pointed to her own chin with a pinky, raising a brow curiously. She bit into the tender meat, chewing carefully.

"Ah," he laughed, pausing on cutting his own piece. "It's no warriors scar. I got it while playing in the yard. My brother and I were chasing each other with the practice swords. Of course, our mother warned us not to, but we never listened." He smiled, reminiscing of his family. Daenys knew they were no longer around, but she never learned what happened to each of them besides Lord Rickon Stark, who's death was shared across the realm.

"When I was climbing up the steps, I tripped over the sword and–bam!" Cregan collided his hands together harshly, dramatically retelling the story. "split my chin open on the stone. My mother scolded me so hard in the maester's ward, I thought I'd never be allowed outside again. Took me a whole month to eat solid foods again."

Daenys laughed at his story, reminded of her own family. "Your poor mother must have had her hands full."

Cregan nodded, smile so wide that his eyes crinkled slightly. "Aye, she did. Gave my father about a million headaches, too."

"That reminds me of when Luke tried to wield Criston Cole's morningstar. He was...seven? Swung it so hard it almost took off all our heads, including his own. Left a good-sized dent in the Keep's yard piller." She shared lightly.

The two shared a fond laugh. Daenys stretched out behind her on the log she had been leaning on, letting her posture relax for once. Horseback was no favor to her back.

Cregan noticed her slump, finishing off his food quickly. "Ready for bed, princess?" He asked, standing. When she barely felt the energy to nod, he scooped her up into his arms, leaning her head against his exposed neck. She sighed at the contact, the same scent that put her to sleep on his fur coat now filling her senses once more.

He smiled softly down at her, carefully placing her into her tent and under the fur blanket. "Stay, boy." He whispered to the direwolf behind him, who huffed at having to sleep inside a tent but obeyed anyway. He closed the tent quietly, checking their perimeter before allowing himself to retire.

🗡

In Winterfell, Maester Owen was presiding over the duties Lord Stark had left behind for the weeks he would be gone. Along with Cregan's councilmen, the three days had passed smoothly.

In the raven tower, Owen sorted the letters carefully. More useless letters from the Greens council, asking of allegiance from the Starks. Adding those to the growing pile, he continued.

Marriage proposal from a Jason Lannister, offering his young (too young, in Owen's humble opinion) daughter as a wife to Lord Stark. Sighing, he placed that into a different pile. Cregan would respond to that however he saw fit, it was not Owen's place.

Although, many in Winterfell expected an offer to come soon from the Queen. A personal messenger, the Princess, here to negotiate with Cregan himself. Surely the Queen would not choose to send her only daughter all the way to the north without a generous proposal? According to the folk, anyhow. Owen thought it to be none of his business.

Seeing the princess from afar, she was a lovely young girl. Perhaps a bit shy, but any young couple has plenty of time to get familiar.

A raven landed at the open sil, startling the Maester. It squaked loudly, tilting its black head to stare into Owens' eyes, almost urgently. He took the scroll from the raven's foot, opening it to read. House Targaryen sigil? They had already sent the princess.

What Owen expected to be a victory note or a marriage offer, he did not receive anything close to. The old man gasped in horror, covering his mouth his a shaky hand. He rushed down the stairs as fast as he could, into the council chambers. "Urgent news from the Queen! Prince Lucerys is dead, killed by the kinslayer Aemond Targaryen!"

🗡

Daenys slept a few hours. The most sleep she had gotten since the trip started.

Unfortunately, it ended before she could be fully rested. The dreams plagued her mind again, not as tormenting as the ones with Luke but taking on a more solemn atmosphere. Daenys saw her mother wandering unknown beaches, dirty and red-eyed. Syrax took her from place to place, mournfully crying out for something unreachable. The two, always in sync, called for their children.

Daenys woke up sobbing, luckily not screaming or thrashing around. Perhaps that was a one-off mishap. She would forget about it in time, after she returned to Dragonstone with her brothers.

Turning, she saw the bright blue eyes of Dusk watching her. Whining, the direwolf nudged the girl's face, wondering what caused her distress. "M'sorry, boy." she hoarsely whispered, kissing his wet nose and leaving the tent. Dusk sat at its entrance, watching her go with perked ears.

Daenys found Morningstar after a few minutes of walking. The dragon, already expecting her, welcomed her with an open wing. Daenys shook her head, petting her nose gratefully. "Not tonight." Daenys continued her walk, an unknown destination calling to her. Morningstar whined loudly, urging Daenys to stay with her. But she could not follow her rider, the treeline too dense for the dragon to walk through.

Half-awake and stumbling, Daenys found herself losing track of time. She was unsure what time she had awakened, but by now the dawn's light shined on her wet face, warming her with the new day.

Cregan always found himself rising with the sun, no matter how little sleep he had gotten the previous night. And with the sun, also came a whimpering Dusk at his face, licking him awake. "What is it, boy?" He asked, raspy and bemused. Dusk didn't whimper or whine, choosing to stay silent most of the time.

When Dusk knew he was fully awake, he rushed out of the tent, standing at the edge of the camp anxiously. He huffed and whined, impaitiently waiting for Cregan to grab Ice.

"What?" He huffed back, noticing the silence of the camp. "Nothings there, go back to sleep." Still, the wolf whined louder, baring his teeth at Cregan.

Shocked, he stilled. Cregan scanned the camp, eyes landing on the Princess' tent, rushing toward it and throwing the flap open. Empty. "Shit!' He cursed, untying Red quickly. "Find her, boy!" He shouted, and Dusk wasted no time sprinting off into the forest.

It didn't take long for Cregan to find Morningstar, jumping off of Red and approaching. The dragon was standing, staring off into the dense treeline, as if she were waiting. He had expected Daenys to be here with her dragon. She must have had another dream and sought comfort with the beast. Why was she not here, huddled beneath the white wings of the dragon?

Morningstar faced Cregan, violet eyes glaring down at him. She shifted on her hind feet, reminding Cregan of a raven with her bird-like movements. She growled at the man, then turned and growled at the forest. He nodded firmly, "I'll find her."

🗡

tags- @beebeechaos

ty for the kinds words <3

[gothcsz]

Dusk | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become a park ranger at a national park in California after breaking up with your ex. You meet Joel Miller, the chief ranger there, and find yourself absolutely smitten over him.

Tags: smut, attempted assault (not by joel), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), no use of Y/N, reader is a professor, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i wrote this during a long car ride in my notes app so i’m NAWT liable for any mistakes xoxo this is also my first attempt at writing joel so i hope i did our man justice 😋

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.”

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that!”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

And he does, god does he take good care of her and you for the remainder of the night.

[stomach-bugg09]

summary: [y/n] and lo’ak are gifted the role of scouting. but, they can’t make it one single day without putting themselves in harm’s way.

lo’ak x oldersister!reader

a/n: okay, so this was formerly titled "strong heart," but i actually ended up rewriting this entire thing because i decided… what the heck was that! the prompt is the same, but i highly recommend rereading because everything else is new (and hopefully improved).

warnings: violence, language, [y/n] being a protective badass older sister, implied killing

tags: @eywas-heir @pinkhotdogsfr​

his protector

“oh, come on, little brother!” [y/n] called, her voice quiet overtop the wind. “tell me you can fly faster than that.” the two siblings soared across the blue skies, their ikrans barely avoiding the tops of each tree. every second that they moved, the flaps of their wings left the trees leaning backwards.

lo’ak groaned from behind her. “i can, but we already took a flight this morning, so i’m sorry that he’s a little tired,” he complained, patting a hand on his ikran’s neck causing a purr to rumble down its body.

the pair sully siblings were on scouting duty, their father sending the two of them off as soon as it became apparent that the day was far too busy for him as the olo’eyktan. it didn’t help that neytiri was occupied with tuk and kiri for the day, and neteyam had to attend whatever leadership meetings with his father. so, naturally, [y/n] and lo’ak immediately volunteered for the job.

normally, the parents would have said no, given the piece of work that the duo was. but, they had no choice that day. plus, even if they did say no, the two would have broken the rules and gone anyway, and jake was tired of scolding the two of them.

“excuses, excuses, brother,” [y/n] teased, turning back with a tempting grin, and just to layer it on, [y/n]’s ikran flicked her tail, lightly slapping the snout of lo’ak’s ride.

“hey!” he yelled defiantly, although the older sister could hear the smile in his voice. she braced herself as she heard the flapping wings increase rapidly, wind blowing faster. soon enough, the boy shot out in front of her and her ikran, not missing the chance to flip her off as he passed.

[y/n] laughed, shaking her head. “you are a child, lo’ak.”

“you are the one who started the competition!” he argued exasperatedly.

“ay, perhaps that is true, but at least i’m not a sore loser!” with that, the girl commanded her ikran downwards, the two ducking underneath her brother before pulling up directly in front of them.

and so, the race was officially on. no, they were not very good at keeping an eye on their surroundings, as scouts were supposed to do, but they were very good at sibling bonding. one after the other, they took the lead, alternating for what seemed like miles.

the two could only hear each other's laughs, breathless and smiling. [y/n] was in such a good mood, she’d almost missed it. she’d almost flown right through it and not even batted an eye. luckily for both of them, her ikran was on high alert ever since they entered the area a few paces back.

the laughter faded from [y/n]’s throat when she felt her ikran clicking her tongue, the soft vibrations sending her eyes up and ears perked. that’s when she finally noticed, immediately slowing to a stop, the two just keeping themselves flying in place.

[y/n] could feel her younger brother hurtling towards her, so as a last second attempt to stop him from ramming into them from behind, she put her hand up with her palm facing backwards. she thanked eywa that lo’ak was paying enough attention to notice, the boy stopping right next to her.

“[y/n]?” he panted, confused. but, it didn’t take long for him to realize either.

below them sat a camp, seemingly empty. but, it was new. the area was littered with human-like belongings—machinery, tents, an old campfire.

“that wasn’t marked on the map, was it?” [y/n] knew the answer, but she wanted to check anyway. as if she had a little bit of hope left. beside her, lo’ak silently shook his head no. “well, shit.”

“at least we have something to report?”

[y/n] quickly pushed a grin off of her lips at his comment, trying to remain serious. “is anyone in the camp? because if not, then where are they?”

lo’ak shrugged helplessly. “maybe they’re sleeping in.”

“it’s evening, skxwang,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“okay, then they’re going to bed early.”

if she could smack him on the head, she would. “without anyone keeping watch? lo’ak, why do you lack intelligence?”

the boy sputtered, taking major offense to her comment. “hey, at least i’m creative.”

“creative, or stupid?” she muttered under her breath. she inhaled and exhaled a slow, deep breath. [y/n] was currently measuring two different choices. was she, a) going to be a good daughter or b) going to be a good clan member.

lucky for her, she didn’t even have to make a choice. “lo’ak!” she cried as her brother aimed his ikran downwards, slowly decreasing his altitude to land right outside the camp while still being hidden under the cover of trees.

“come on, [y/n], you know you wanted to,” he teased, a knowing smile resting on his lips.

“yes, but i wanted to make the call since i am the leader of this duo. mom said!” she argued bitterly, annoyance threaded through her tone.

the boy hummed, amused. “now who sounds like the child.”

with a huff of annoyance, [y/n] followed her younger brother down, landing their ikrans in the trees. carefully and very quietly, the two dismounted. from where they perched, [y/n] saw a perfect view of the camp’s entrance.

“it’s dead,” she whispered, shaking her head in confusion. with a quick look around at where they were located, storing it in the back of her brain, the girl hopped down. she landed softly on her feet, weight distributed perfectly thanks to the teachings of her mother.

lo’ak was not as quick to understand. “[y/n]?” he hissed, bringing her attention back up to the tree. “what are you doing?”

[y/n] only grinned. “come on, it’s empty! let’s explore a little, get some actual dirt to bring back to dad.” the boy shuffled warrily. “wait a minute,” she teased. “you’re not scared, are you, little brother?”

“what?” he sputtered. “uh, no! i’m just thinking. you know, like a warrior does. i’m willing to bet you didn’t think twice before jumping down there.”

she stuck her tongue out. “what’s the fun in thinking? now, come on, brother! hurry up, we do not have all day.” with that, the girl turned back around towards the camp, taking quick and quiet steps.

she grinned as she heard the huffs of lo’ak his own soft footsteps following soon after her. “the best way to approach this,” she began as soon as he caught up with her, “is to go in together. have your knife ready just in case, but as far as it looks, it is completely abandoned.”

lo’ak nodded. “do you think they have guns we could steal?” he pondered, a smile glued to his features. “because i don’t think dad would be too angry if we returned with some materials.”

“i like how you think, little brother.” and so, they finally entered the camp.

“why would they leave all of their stuff here?” lo’ak wondered aloud, looking around at the ammo and resources left behind. there was far too much to bring all of it back, but they could at least load their ikrans with a few guns and bullets.

[y/n] was thinking the same thing, although she found it hard to believe that they would just drop everything and run. unless there’d been a threat, but this was a typically dormant side of the forest. the only animal that actually caused a hazard around this part were herds of hexapede, but it was clear that a stampede hadn’t been the threat to drive them away based on how put together everything still was.

[y/n] scratch her head as she looked around, ducking under tents to check what other indicators might be around. “the sleeping bags aren’t messy,” she commented. “they didn’t leave in a rush this morning. they at least had time to wake up.”

“they also ate breakfast,” lo’ak added, his fingers brushing against the cinderblock that surrounded the campfire. “and maybe lunch.”

she sucked her teeth, not understanding. “whatever drove them away was either too dangerous to grab their guns, or they just weren’t smart enough.”

lo’ak chuckled at that. “i wouldn’t be shocked if it were the latter.”

“or,” a clicking sound had [y/n]’s ears perked up, eyes alert and hand on her knife. “there was a lot more materials that we don’t know about.”

for a second, time froze. she could feel the change in the air, the smell of gunpowder just before the shot was fired. before the sound had even reached their ears, [y/n] launched herself off the ground, covering the body of her younger brother with her own.

the shot rung out, embedding a bullet into the tree that was previously directly behind lo’ak.

“holy shit,” lo’ak rasped, eyes wide as he stared at the spot on the tree. that could’ve been me.

not a second went by before [y/n] was back on her feet, two guns in her hands from what they ransacked.

lo’ak barely avoided another bullet, rolling to the side and behind the cover of a dead log. he gasped for air, the overwhelming stench of gunpowder clouding his senses. he couldn’t even see the familiar body of his sister.

but, from where he hid, he did watch the mutual interaction as they shot back and forth, one bullet after another. he felt pride swell in his chest as an avatar’s body dropped across from his sister’s side of the forest.

he shakily clutched his intercom necklace, words quiet as he told her, “one down, two more.” he was at the perfect position for spying, if not helpful for the battle field. “more left—your left. a branch above,” he directed, smiling as yet another fell.

“where’s the last one?” his sister questioned breathlessly in his ear. his eyes rose back up, searching the trees. where’d he gone?

it was just a second too late when he felt an extremely unnerving presence rising up behind him.

“[y/n]!” he yelled out loud, alerting his sister of exactly where he was located. the older girl stood up from her hiding place behind a tree, a gun in each hand. her eyes widened at her baby brother stuck in the grasp of an avatar.

from where he struggled, lo’ak watched the eyes of his sister. just tell me when to duck, he begged, his stare desperate and terrified. and then.. she signalled.

the boy dropped all of his weight at once, catching the avatar off-guard. he cursed in confusion at the boy’s problematic antics, the only thing keeping him from having to struggle with the na’vi boy anymore being the bullet that left [y/n]’s gun, embedding itself right between his eyebrows.

as the avatar’s body fell, silence followed. [y/n] collapsed to the ground, exhaustion creeping through her bones. lo’ak could barely move, trying to catch his breath from the major chokehold that avatar’d had on him.

eventually, someway, somehow, the two crawled back to each other. lo’ak felt himself melt in the warm embrace of his big sister, his protector.

“i’m sorry,” she sobbed, clutching his head against her chest. “i’m so sorry, baby brother. i did not mean to put you in harm’s way.”

he only chuckled, tears stinging the corners of his own eyes. “you did not endanger me, sister, you saved me.”

part ii

[luveline]

steve zombie!au…. maybe in this new camp the reader is placed to do the scouting for supplies/ protecting the camp while steve is the one that has to stay in the camp and starts worrying over her a lot? love your writing jade 🫶🏼

thanks gorgeous! —you and steve settle into your new jobs. he worries, you dote. fem!reader, 1.3k

You watch in mild frustration as another firework shoots up into the air and pops. It doesn't break the treeline, but it's loud. 

"Should we really be doing this?" Joyce asks. 

Hopper grunts in annoyance and begins a spiel you've had the misfortune of hearing twice already this morning. The fireworks are going to be an alarm, a code in case another undefeatable foe crosses the proximity line. Newly appointed guard and on duty, if someone were to approach now, it would be you that lights the firework. 

You kind of hate your new job. You haven't met the new and elusive leader of the camp you've merged with, but you've met his underling Wendy, and she assigned you a job. You're on guard duty and potential runs, Steve's on childcare, and when he asked if you could switch, she said point blank No.

Steve's less than pleased, though he likes being with the kids. 

"What use is a warning if we draw other people?" Joyce asks. Frustration must be in the air. 

"Kid," Hopper says. It takes you a good handful of seconds to realise he's talking to you. "You can go. Take the evening off." 

"Are you sure? Wendy's kinda stern." 

"I can deal with Wendy." 

You pat the pommel of your sword and nod, starting back through the trees toward camp. Hopper's more than capable of looking after himself despite the argument that awakens as soon as you're far enough away. 

Walking back into camp makes you feel weird. More than half the people you see are strangers, cleaner, happier than anybody from The College, though they're starting to merge. You weave between a procession of runners back with a literal wheelbarrow of cans from the grocery store a half a mile east from here. They spray painted on the windows that the place was full of geeks months ago and it remains untouched. Sneaky trick, but one you can appreciate if it keeps all the kids alive. 

You can hear them as you approach one of the portables. They aren't truly portable buildings; if you ever wanted to move further into Michigan, they'd stay behind. But they have walls and ceilings and it makes the world feel a little less alien for the kids, who mostly grew up for the last year, nearly two, in The College. 

You put your sword against the side of the wall and run up the silver metal steps to ease the door open. 

Steve's sitting at the back of the room with four other adults, a little girl in his lap, her head on his chest. She can't be older than five. 

At the front of the room sits Sarah, reading from a big storybook. There are no lights on, but she has a torch with different coloured crepe papers taped to the front, and she shines them when different emotions come into the story. Right now, the story is sad, and a light blue light kisses the cheeks of the children in the front row. 

They barely notice your arrival. Steve, however, heaves a visible sigh of relief, the arm he's wrapped genially over the little girl's back moving up incrementally at the sight of you. 

"Hello," you whisper, sitting down next to him quietly. 

"Hi," the little girl whispers. 

"Hi," you say back. She isn't one of The College kids, you'd know her face. "Who are you, honey?" 

"I'm Mabel." 

"Hi Mabel, I'm Y/N." 

"Y/N's my girlfriend," Steve whispers, grabbing your hand for a squeeze. You squeeze back. 

Mabel looks up at Steve with a smile. "Do you kiss?" Mabel asks. 

You laugh, startled, and half the kids turn their heads to see what's so funny. Steve shushes you like a proper teacher, finger over his lips until they all turn back to their story. 

"We do sometimes to say hello," Steve whispers, quieter than before. "Why?"

"My boyfriend is a bad kisser," she says. 

You tamp down a smile badly, amusement colouring your words, "Honey, I think you should stick to holding hands." 

"I think so," she agrees. 

Steve pats her shoulder to show his agreement. She cuddles in and turns her attention back to the story. Steve meets your eyes over her head and you both laugh with closed mouths, hot breaths pushed out of your noses. 

When the story's finished and the room is too dark to stay any longer, Jonathan arrives to cart off his boat load of fostered brethren, as do the other adults. It's nice to see how many of them accept children who aren't theirs with open arms. Steve carries Mabel until the very last second when Julie, Mabel's older sister, comes to collect her. 

"Did you know she has a boyfriend?" Steve asks Julie. 

"Is that what she said?" Julie asks fondly, tapping Mabel on the tip of her nose. "You're silly. No boyfriends until you're ten, at least." 

Mabel blushes and hides her face. 

"Will she forgive you?" you ask Steve as they leave. 

He hugs you close, suddenly. At the doorway of the portable with the other 'teachers' still inside cleaning up the kids' mess, you aren't expecting him to be outwardly affectionate. 

"I'm her favourite, she'll forget by tomorrow." Steve hugs you tighter still, prompting you to hug back. He groans as soon as you do, as though your touch is a great relief. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask. 

"I worry about you when you're gone." 

"I know, but it's no different than yesterday. They didn't even need me, that's why Hopper sent me back. It's not dangerous." 

"It's obviously dangerous." Steve's cheek pushes against the side of your head, almost nuzzling you. "It's the best part of my day when you come back to me." 

You feel heat rise to your face, a hot flush of embarrassment that licking over every inch of skin. "Steve," you mumble. 

He squeezes your waist and has you take his weight on your chest, bending you backward. "I love you." 

"I love you too," you utter.

Steve pulls away from you, something sweet and soft in the set of his mocha brown eyes. "I know. I think that's why I freak out so much." 

"You'd miss being adored," you tease. 

"By you, yeah." He gives you a long look. You know before he's moved even a millimetre that he's going to give you another thankful hug, lips at your ear as he confesses, "I'd miss you more than anything." 

You hug him back with your own relief —you've loved Steve for a very, very long time. It's an unexplainable feeling to know he loves you back, and fiercely. Somewhere in the past is a girl laying in his lap in the woodland bordering an endless intersection highway, wishing he'd want you back. You can't tell her that everything will be okay, that you'll get through it safe and sound, but you could at least tell her that there's something worth living for at the end of the seemingly insurmountable. Someone who worries about you when you're less than 100 yards away. 

"You worry too much," you say, pushing his chest gently to separate your hug. You look him straight in the eye. "We're good at finding each other again. And I'm not going anywhere in the first place." 

Steve exhales slowly. "Good. I hate when you go places." 

"Me too. Let's stay here forever." 

You both know it's an impossible thing, but the hypothetical is nice. You can see the weight of the worry Steve carries on his shoulders, worry in his eyes, but he's carrying a lot of love too. You wish it wasn't all so heavy. 

[roseofdarknessblog]

Irreplaceable (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 5 040

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: When you married Levi, you already knew he would one day be an amazing father. So when your daughters were born, you had zero doubts. Even Levi gained confidence in himself after becoming a father. But with the Rumbling and the birth of your third child, many things changed once and for all.

Irreplaceable

You swallowed hard, looking over your shoulder once again. Levi was only sleeping, he was alive. You just checked... he was breathing just fine and his pulse, although still a little weak, was regular. Hange did everything to ensure that he was going to be okay. But still. As you saw him there in such a terrible state, your mind started to wander to the darkest places.

He simply couldn’t die. No. What would you tell your children, if their father never came back home? His precious little girls wouldn’t understand what happened. Not at seven and four years old.

„Are you okay?“ Hange asked when they came back to your little improvised camp with more firewood. If it weren’t for the Scouts they killed to keep you safe and the stuff that was left after their deaths, you would have nothing. Only the still-soaked clothes you were wearing. „How’s your knee doing?“

You waved your hand. „It’s a little swollen, but okay. I’ll be fine,“ you assured them, rubbing your left knee. It hurt pretty badly, but nothing you wouldn’t be able to suffer through. You didn’t even know where and how you injured it. Only when you finally came out of the river, it was already hurting. „He’s fine, I just checked.“

Both of you looked at Levi before Hange nodded and sat down at the fire next to you. Staying awake and alert was the most important thing. There was still a possibility, that someone would come after you.

„I’m sorry you have to be a part of this.“

You shrugged, looking into the fire for a moment before you looked back at Levi once again. „If I ever see Floch again, I’m going to rip him apart like a piece of paper,“ you hissed, looking back at Hange. Even they, your lifelong friend, were surprised about what you just said. But after all, you had all the right reasons to hate him. And all his men as well. They wanted to kill Levi when he needed their help the most. And anybody, who even thought about hurting your family was your enemy and deserved to feel your anger.

You were just an ordinary civilian, not a soldier. You spent your life on your family’s little farm with your father, or on the farmer’s market in Trost with your mother. That kind of life was all you knew. But just until you met Captain Levi Ackerman and the two of you fell in love. It was a long and slow process, but the wait was so worth it. The stoic Captain, who was known as Humanity's strongest soldier, became the most treasured person in your life and after years of getting to know each other and dating, you became his wife and soon after the mother of his children. 

„What are we going to do, Hange? We can’t stay here.“

„I know, but... I need a little more time to think. And Levi needs to rest, we can’t move just yet.“

„I have to get back home.“ Hange nodded, reached for one of your hands, and squeezed it reassuringly. „My parents are surely taking the best care of our girls, but what if the Yeagerists go after them as well? What if they hurt them, just to lure me and Levi out from hiding?“

„No, no, no. Don’t even think about that, they’ll be fine, I’m sure. I know your dad, Y/N. He’s going to chase them away with his rifle if he has to.“ Something about that thought made you smile a bit. Yes, your father would do such a thing. His family was his biggest treasure and if anybody tried to hurt his wife, you, Levi, or his granddaughters, he wouldn’t hesitate to even kill to keep you all safe.

But still... he was alone and he wasn’t the youngest anymore. And if Floch with the others truly came to your parent’s house...

When they crossed your path in the morning, you were heading to the town for some mundane shopping. The day started out as usual, your girls were still sleeping and you decided to get the shopping out of the way as soon as possible. You never thought, that you wouldn’t return home. Floch with the Yeagerists cornered you out of nowhere and made you go with them.

For a long time, you didn’t know what they wanted from you – from Captain Levi Ackerman’s wife. Nobody bothered to tell you what was going on. Only when all of a sudden Hange joined you. From that moment, everything started to go downhill.

And now you were here – on the run, hiding in the forest and feeling more scared than ever before. Your husband’s life was still in immediate danger, while you couldn’t be sure if your parents and daughters were okay. And on top of that... you were carrying another little Ackerman nobody except your parents knew about.

„I’m pregnant again,“ you heard yourself say very quietly to Hange. It was only natural to tell your best friend about something this special. If they weren’t spending the last few months in Marley or planning the Liberio raid, they would already know and probably be as excited as when you were pregnant before. „Nobody knows, only my parents.“

Hange looked at you with a huge surprise on their face. „When did it happen? We’ve been away for almost three months and Levi was here with Zeke since our return.“

„I’m roughly five months along,“ you said, putting your hand on your belly. Every single day, you spent more and more time when you were getting dressed. Mainly when you went out to town. You wanted to hide your growing pregnancy belly as best as possible to avoid rumors from people you knew. „I first started feeling a little off before you all left for Marley for the first time. But I didn’t go to the doctor until Levi was home. And since then I didn’t really have a chance to tell him.“

You only saw Levi for a couple of short minutes, after they came back. That time was enough for a long hug and a couple of quick kisses. Levi asked how you and the girls were doing, and that was basically it. He was gone once more and when you saw him again today, he was bloodied and on the brink of death.

„So another member of Levi’s personal squad, eh?“

You smiled when Hange excitedly leaned closer and hugged you. „Yeah, another little Ackerman is on the way. Maybe finally a little boy.“

Levi loved being a girl dad, but you really wanted to give him a son as well. A little boy, who would hopefully look like him, even though your daughters both had their father’s hair and features. When anybody, who knew Levi looked at his kids, it was immediately obvious, that they were very closely related. And you loved this fact so much. You loved seeing your husband in those two little miracles the both of you created together.

„So that’s why you had such trouble getting into the saddle earlier? Or why you didn’t want the Yeagerists to touch you at all?“

You nodded, caressing your belly. About two weeks back, you finally felt the baby start kicking for the first time. Even now, during your third pregnancy, it was something magical. „Didn’t want them to accidentally see or touch my belly.“ Your loose black dress with a colorful long vest hid your pregnancy pretty well. But you still had to be careful not to draw much attention to your abdomen.

„I’m so sorry you got caught up in this situation. Now even more.“

„It is what it is,“ you said and looked over at Levi again. He was still unconscious, but at least he didn’t hear you talk to Hange. This was not the moment you wanted to announce your pregnancy to him. „I just hope all of this ends soon.“

Deep down in your heart, you knew Levi will be okay again. He had to be. He was your husband, after all. He had a family that needed him back home. Your girls needed their dad, who they loved and absolutely adored every waking hour of every day. He truly was their hero. And not because he was Humanity's strongest. But only because of how much he loved them and cared about everything that regarded his two precious little angels.

You knew very well Levi wasn’t just a cold and grumpy soldier. Not when he was with you. But seeing him become a father was something completely different. He even cried, when your first daughter was born. And he was just as emotional, happy, and grateful when your second daughter was born almost three years later.

„Not to sound grim, but I don’t think we’ll know peace in the near future,“ Hange said, stood up, and went over to Levi to check on him.

You worried about him to the point that you felt physically sick. Maybe because it was such a rarity to see him hurt. He came back unharmed even from the worst expeditions. And now here he was – completely dependent on your and Hange’s help.

And it was one of the worst feelings ever. Knowing how close to death he really was. Seeing him hurt and all bandaged up, while you sat just a couple of steps away with your third baby on the way. Thinking about Levi never knowing about the baby... about never seeing him or her...

A quiet sob escaped your mouth before you could press your hand to your mouth. Hange immediately turned around and looked you over with great concern. You really never felt so much fear and pain all at once. So much despair.

„I’m fine,“ you got out and tried to take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself. Hange seemed pretty out of place when they saw your tears. From experience you knew, that they weren’t the best when it came to comforting a crying person. „It’s just...“

„Yeah, I know,“ Hange said and smoothed Levi’s hair down a bit. If he was awake, he would probably frown at them and pull away. But not now. „But try not to stress yourself too much, please. You have to be extra careful.“

Hange seemed way more tense than before you told them about your pregnancy. And that was understandable. They were the Commander and the person in charge now. You telling them about your pregnancy just put extra weight on their shoulders. Now they needed to look after Levi, you, and even your unborn baby.

„I’ll get you home, don’t worry,“ Hange said after a minute and came to sit back down next to you, wrapping their arm around your shoulders. „And I’ll keep Levi safe for you and your kids. I promise.“

You gave them a weak smile, leaning your head against theirs. This was a really bad time for crying, but you were an emotional mess during every pregnancy. Not to say in a situation like this, when death was lurking dangerously close.

The bright morning sun was shining right on the bed, where you were slowly waking up from another long and almost sleepless night. You almost forgot how it felt to have a newborn, who woke up many times and needed attention. Not to mention your other two kids waking up as well because they still weren’t used to their new home.

The Rumbling happened almost half a year ago, and the world was still upside down from all the consequences. You still remembered the day Paradis started shaking as the Wall Titans followed Eren on his mission to destroy all your enemies. When you parted from Hange and Levi, to return back home, you found your parents and daughters out on the porch of the farmhouse, watching the Titans in horror. The girls were crying like never before. And there was nothing you could do to calm them down and assure them, that you’ll all be alright. They cried for their dad and kept asking you when he was coming home to protect them.

And you had no idea.

When you kissed Levi goodbye, you couldn’t be sure you’ll ever see him again. For many weeks, you didn’t know what happened to him or the others. And for an even longer time, there was no way for you and your family to get to Levi. You spent countless amount of nights crying and worrying, which ended up causing preterm labor.

But despite that, everything turned out okay. Your baby was healthy and beautiful, and you recovered even faster than when you gave birth for the first and second time. Before you knew it, you were back home with your girls, who were in awe when they first saw their new sibling.

Even after your baby’s birth, it took another almost two months, until you got a chance to leave Paradis and travel to the place where Levi was staying and recovering. It was the Azumabito family, who helped you get to your husband. It all happened so fast. You and your parents had to pack up the kids and your whole lives in a couple of days and leave Paradis... probably for good.

And that was maybe for the best. After everything, many people, who knew you were Levi’s wife, acted harshly toward you. A lot of things in your homeland changed and not necessarily for the best. So leaving and starting over was probably a smart idea. Your kids deserved a much better life, with nicer people surrounding them.

Most importantly... they needed their father, just like you needed your husband.

Traveling across the ocean and finding a way to cross the burned lands which the Wall Titans and Eren left behind, took a toll on your whole family – your elderly parents, two spooked-out kids, and a still fragile newborn. And on you, too. Physically and also emotionally.

But in the end, it was all so worth it. When you saw Levi after many long months... an unimaginable wave of relief and happiness washed over you, making your eyes water almost immediately. And when your girls ran up to him, not minding even a tiny bit, that their father looked much different, your heart almost burst from love and gratitude. They didn’t mind his new scars, his blind eye, or the wheelchair he needed because of his leg. All they saw, was the father they adored and loved more than anybody else. They exchanged many hugs and kisses. Levi sat them both onto his lap, wrapping his arms around them and holding them close, whispering how much he missed and loved them.

Levi knew, that you and the girls were coming. He was happy to see your parents, too. The biggest shock for him was the roughly two months old newborn baby in your arms. Nobody except your late friend, who you still missed very dearly, knew, that you were pregnant. And it seemed that Hange didn’t tell Levi. So when he saw the tiny black-haired Ackerman baby, who was looking at him with bright blue eyes in complete amazement, he wasn’t able to say anything. Until the girls started telling him everything about their new sibling, who they loved greatly.

„Oh... good morning. What did I miss?“ you asked, when you finally found your whole family – out on the porch, enjoying a beautiful colorful sunrise. When you didn’t find Levi or the girls in their beds, it was obvious, that they were somewhere outside, having a peaceful and quiet morning.

„You came just in time, the sun’s coming up shortly,“ Levi said in a hushed voice. The baby, your third daughter, was peacefully asleep in his arms, while your four-year-old was sitting on his lap and hugging him, also half-asleep. Your oldest daughter was sitting on the porch right next to Levi’s wheelchair and was holding his hand – the one, which was missing two fingers.

Seeing them content and peaceful like this, made your eyes well up with tears almost immediately. You were all still adjusting to your new life and for the most parts, it wasn’t easy. That’s why moments like these helped you more than you would be ever able to express and explain.

You loved watching Levi with his girls. All the love between them was so pure and innocent. It was very precious to you and Levi as well. He had so many doubts about becoming a father. And they were all pointless, because the second your first daughter was born, he was already a natural. Always tending to his daughter’s needs and doing everything in his power, to give all of them everything he didn’t have growing up.

„The girls came into our room and since I couldn’t sleep anymore, I took them outside so you could rest a bit more. It was a rough night,“ Levi said, looking down at the sleeping baby.

„I love the newborn phase, because they are so tiny and adorable, and you are getting to know them for the very first time, but that constant waking up in the night...“

With a chuckle, you kissed all of them on top of their heads and sat down on the other side of Levi’s wheelchair, crossing your legs. The air was a bit crisp, a thin layer of fog was hovering between the trees of the forest behind the small house you lived in now.

„I think we should enjoy it because it’s probably the last time we are experiencing this phase.“

„Is it?“ Levi teased you.

You raised your eyebrows. „Would you like another baby?“

„You wouldn’t?“

„I would like another sibling,“ your seven-year-old said enthusiastically. She was a big help when you brought the baby home from the hospital for the first time. It was almost as if she knew, somebody had to take Levi’s place. „Maybe a baby brother for a change.“

„You know we can’t influence that, honey,“ you said with a smile.

„Maybe we could try... somehow...“ Levi suggested playfully, winking at you with his healthy eye. „After a couple of years, that is. No need to hurry. We need to properly settle down first.“

„And open your tea shop,“ you said excitedly, reaching your hand towards Levi and stroking his arm. „After many years, we can finally turn that dream into reality.“

„With me being like this?“ Levi asked in a much colder tone, looking down at you with a grim expression. But before your eyes met, he looked away and instead kissed both of his sleeping daughters. „Don’t think that would work out.“

„Why do you think that?“ He shrugged, almost as if he didn’t want to tell you what he really meant. Maybe because the girls was here. Or maybe because you already knew too well.

You and he already had some pretty harsh and painful conversations. They were all pretty similar – all of them ended in tears. Sometimes only Levi’s or only yours. Other times you cried both. For many minutes, even hours. In the middle of the night, or even during the day, when the girls weren’t around. Levi was still hurting – mentally and physically as well. And some days, the pain and sorrow got the best of him. He cursed, screamed, and cried. He even wished for death.

That’s how much he hated the current version of himself. He despised looking into a mirror – even now, many months after all of his injuries happened. Most of them were healed by now, but that didn’t make a big difference to him. Not even your words and tears could make him hate himself less.

„Nobody said, you would have to run the shop alone, darling. It can be a little family business. Bet my parents would love to help out, mom has a lot of experience when it comes to dealing with customers.“

Everybody on the farmer’s market back at Trost loved her – buying fruits, vegetables, homemade erb soaps, or any other good stuff from her, or just stopping by for a quick chat. With her cheerful personality, she was able to charm everybody. And probably would be no difference here. Or at least you hoped.

„And dad is already grumpy because he has nothing to do here. He really misses the farm and all the work around there.“

„I miss the farm too,“ your seven-year-old said. „All the animals and growing plants. The flowers we used to plant with grandma each year. It’s a shame we had to leave, I loved it there.“

„We can build something similar here as well,“ you said to her, trying to sound hopeful. But deep down in your heart you knew, that nothing would ever be the same. Having hope was a nice and necessary thing, but it wasn’t enough.

„Nobody said we have to stay. If we don’t like it, we can just pack up all our stuff and leave,“ Levi said suddenly, once again sounding a bit more cheerful. It was all just a pretense, you knew it. But appreciated his effort anyway.

All you could do was nod in agreement. But after that, watching the rest of the sunrise in silence was the best possible choice. A moment of quiet and peace was necessary for all of you. Just a moment of sitting down and enjoying something so simple and yet beautiful. Something, that always gave you hope, that the new day would be much better than the previous one.

Just after breakfast, your parents came over and took two of your oldest daughters for a fun day in the town. The house got quiet when you took care of the baby and settled her down into the crib. Instead of preparing lunch for you and Levi, you and he ended up outside on the porch again.

„Sorry I talked like that in front of the girls.“

„It’s fine, you didn’t say anything wrong,“ you assured him, pulling up a chair next to him and reaching for his hand. „I know it’s hard. For all of us. But we have to keep trying, Levi. We have to keep going for our family.“

Moving away from Paradis and starting over in a foreign country wasn’t even close to being easy. Not even you felt comfortable and content with your new life. But you had to try. You simply had to. For your parents and daughters, but mostly for Levi. You wanted to be his everyday dose of motivation and the reason he kept smiling from time to time.

And above all... you had to be strong for yourself. You were just as important as everybody else in your life. Because if you wouldn’t be able to function, everything else would start to fall apart as well.

„I’m tired, Y/N. Exhausted, worn out...“ You squeezed his hand, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. „I’m still angry with myself for not being able to function like before. For not being able to be the father, husband, and son-in-law all of you need.“

„Levi, you’re everything and much more, than all of us need. You’re still the same person I fell in love with. You may not look the same, but that’s not important to me. It never was.“ His quiet chuckle surprised you. But also warmed your heart and gave you hope. „And if you want to know... I still find you very handsome.“

„Well, am I a lucky guy?“

„Definitely.“ You nodded, leaning closer to him and hugging him around his right arm tightly, but gently at the same time. „I love you, and I always will. No injury can change that, Levi. You will always be the love of my life. The only one I want to share my life with. The one, who I know loves me back just as much.“

„Not just as much... but even more,“ he corrected you, the tone of his voice sounding warm and loving. „I know I’m blessed to have a wife like you and a precious family. Many people died so we could sit here like this and talk.“ He stopped for a second, taking a couple of deep breaths to hide how his voice was starting to break once again. Since you came here and reunited with Levi, you have seen and heard him cry more times than throughout your entire relationship. And it kept breaking your heart over and over again. „Despite that, I can’t seem to find the way out of the darkness. It keeps following me everywhere.“

„Because you keep being too hard on yourself. You still think, that being a soldier or a weapon for someone in power, is what made you matter. But we both know that’s not the truth. You’re perfect as you are... here in this moment. You don’t need to be Humanity's strongest soldier to feel important, admired, and loved. It’s enough for you to just be... Levi.“ You knew he longed for the power and all the abilities he once had. He wanted to feel like his old self so badly, that he kept forgetting what was truly important. „You changed and there’s nothing wrong with that. In here,“ you said and placed your palm over his heart gently, „you are still the same person I love and admire. I traveled across the world, which was almost burned to ash just to be with you again. And I’ll never regret that.“

You told him similar words many times before. But that was pointless, you would repeat yourself as many times as he needed to hear it, hoping he would take something away from them.

„You are still you, Levi.“

„But is that enough for you, Y/N? In this state, I can’t give you the life you and our girls deserve.“

„I don’t expect you to give me anything. All I need, is your presence in my life and in the life of our girls,“ you said, leaning closer to him and kissing his cheek. „If I had to, I would carry this on my own. But I really, really don’t want to. I want to share everything with you, just like before. The good and the bad as well.“

„I know you could do this all on your own. You did it for the last couple of months, and you did brilliantly. Enduring an entire pregnancy without me even knowing, giving birth, and traveling with three kids across this forsaken world just to... find me again... I...“

„I did it for us, darling. For our family, our future.“

It was hard and even traumatic in some ways. But all of that was over now, everything was okay again. Levi was right there beside you, and your family was complete once more. Nothing was perfect, and it never will be. Finding true happiness was always difficult, and in this new world, it seemed close to impossible. At least for now. Many things were changing for you and for the whole world as well. So it was probably normal to feel this way.

„And I would do it all over again if I had to,“ you added in a reassuring tone, holding Levi’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

„I know you would. That’s why I love you.“

Before you could say anything back, both of you heard a faint cry from inside the house. With a quick kiss, you left Levi outside and hurried after your baby. All it took, was a diaper change and a few kisses before you could return to Levi, your youngest daughter once again contently resting in your arms.

She was a carbon copy of her father, just like her older sisters. With Levi’s silky black hair and his adorable nose, she was a true Ackerman. And Levi was all about that, just like when he saw all of the girls for the very first time.

„Everything okay?“ Levi asked, reaching for his daughter immediately.

You nodded with a smile, carefully handing him the baby. It looked like she became immediately happier when Levi cradled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. She cooed quietly, looking up at her father with eyes wide open. Almost as if she was seeing him for the very first time.

Levi’s touch and voice always calmed the kids down. His mere presence was enough for them to feel safe and loved. They missed him very dearly every time he went on an expedition or had a lot of work to do. Sometimes, the girls even waited for him to come home from the HQ, just to see him for a couple of minutes or get a goodnight kiss from him.

„She’s so precious,“ he whispered, kissing the baby’s hair once more and offering her one of his fingers to hold. „To think I almost didn’t get the chance to meet her...“

„No, stop! Don’t talk like that, please.“ He wanted to say something but decided to stay quiet and instead whisper to the baby how much he loved her. „You know... this is when I find you the most irresistible.“

„Crippled?“ he smirked.

„Levi!“ you scolded him and hit his shoulder playfully.

When you heard him laugh a new spark of hope flared up in your heart. Maybe everything could be okay once again. Not today or tomorrow, but eventually. You both had something very precious to fight for and keep trying. You went through so many challenging things together and apart as well. But love always helped you find your way back to one another.

„I’m glad I have you all,“ he said after a while, his eyes still glued to his daughter, who was carefully watching his face. „My irreplaceable Ackerman girls.“ With a tiny smile, he leaned over to you and gently grabbed your chin. „I’ll keep fighting for you all. With everything I have left. I can promise you that, Y/N.“ 

„Only if you let us fight for you... my irreplaceable Ackerman,“ you teased him, before brushing your lips against his in a long and loved-filled kiss, which said more than a hundred words ever could.

[richincolor]

Ode to the Olympics: Books & Sports

I'm a big fan of the Olympics and have absolutely let responsibilities go in favor of watching amazing sport. And I thought, as the Olympics come to a close that I'd share some books that focus on athletes aiming to be their best all while dealing with the trials of adolescence. 

Rez Ball by Byron Graves

These days, Tre Brun is happiest when he is playing basketball on the Red Lake Reservation high school team—even though he can’t help but be constantly gut-punched with memories of his big brother, Jaxon, who died in an accident. When Jaxon's former teammates on the varsity team offer to take Tre under their wing, he sees this as his shot to represent his Ojibwe rez all the way to their first state championship. This is the first step toward his dream of playing in the NBA, no matter how much the odds are stacked against him. But stepping into his brother’s shoes as a star player means that Tre can’t mess up. Not on the court, not at school, and not with his new friend, gamer Khiana, who he is definitely not falling in love with. After decades of rez teams almost making it, Tre needs to take his team to state. Because if he can live up to Jaxon's dreams, their story isn’t over yet.

Check out this trailer for Rez Ball coming next month!

You Don't Have a Shot by Racquel Marie

Valentina “Vale” Castillo-Green’s life revolves around soccer. Her friends, her future, and her father’s intense expectations are all wrapped up in the beautiful game. But after she incites a fight during playoffs with her long-time rival, Leticia Ortiz, everything she’s been working toward seems to disappear. Embarrassed and desperate to be anywhere but home, Vale escapes to her beloved childhood soccer camp for a summer of relaxation and redemption…only to find out that she and the endlessly aggravating Leticia will be co-captaining a team that could play in front of college scouts. But the competition might be stiffer than expected, so unless they can get their rookie team’s act together, this second chance―and any hope of playing college soccer―will slip through Vale’s fingers. When the growing pressure, friendship friction, and her overbearing father push Vale to turn to Leticia for help, what starts off as a shaky alliance of necessity begins to blossom into something more through a shared love of soccer. . . and maybe each other.

Chasing Pacquiano by Rod Pulido

Self preservation. That's Bobby's motto for surviving his notoriously violent high school unscathed. Being out and queer would put an unavoidable target on his back, especially in a Filipino community that frowns on homosexuality. It's best to keep his head down, get good grades, and stay out of trouble. But when Bobby is unwillingly outed in a terrible way, he no longer has the luxury of being invisible. A vicious encounter has him scrambling for a new way to survive--by fighting back. Bobby is inspired by champion Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao to take up boxing and challenge his tormentor. Then Pacquiao publicly declares his stance against queer people, and Bobby's faith--in his hero and in himself--is shaken to the core.

And Other Mistakes by Erika Turner

Aaliyah's home life has never been great, but she thought she'd survive her last years of high school with at least her friendships and cross-country stardom intact. That is, until junior year she got outed by a church elder and everything came undone ― including Aaliyah. Now, senior year is about to start and she is determined to come back faster and wiser. No more letting other people define her. No more losing herself to their expectations. Except... well, with new friends, old flames, nosy school counselors, and teammates who don't trust her yet, the route already feels rough. And what's with the new girl, Tessa, who gives Aaliyah butterflies every time she looks at her? Regardless, everything is fine. She'll be fine. Because this is the year to prove to everyone―and most of all, herself―that she's more than her mistakes. After all, even Aaliyah can't outrun everything.

[yellowocaballero]

New Wave: Jason Todd vs. Annoyingly Perfect Cheerleader Barbie Stephanie Brown

Tim stared at him for another long second, face blank, and a few seconds of hot panic hit Jason before he finally spoke again. “You really aren’t anything like Steph.”

Yeah. Jason fucking got that.

It was always a bad thing. They pretended it wasn’t a bad thing. Oh, nobody ever said it was bad Jason wasn’t Stephanie fucking Brown. But they didn’t need to say it. Jason was a master of tactics and strategy, and he knew he was without resources. 

Resources, in this context, being a goddamn fucking perfect blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. Being peppy and happy and nice. Apparently being some kind of dumb genius who knew everything and everyone. Jason didn’t have any of that. Without any resources or allies, his idiot new life knocked him flat on his back every time. Jason wasn’t Stephanie Brown, and boy did they let him know it. 

In which the next generation of inferiority complexes rise.

Now that my magnum opus Stephanie Brown superiority manifesto is done, I can FINALLY post its follow-up! This one was very strange to write, but that just made it all the funner. There's a lot I could say here that I couldn't explicitly say in the main story - and, most importantly, four years later I can finally work in MY childhood nostalgia. FINALLY!

If you aren't familiar with the AU, the premise is just that Stephanie becomes the first Robin in 1997. Not much more complex than that.

Story under the cut.

Christmas brought the inevitable. 

Jason always approached the winter like an enemy combatant. He had a military biography phase six months ago, and it left him with a permanent sense he was General Custer in real life. December always left him feeling more like Napoleon embarking on a fool’s crusade against Russia in winter, but Jason knew how to learn from other people’s mistakes. He knew how to make the shelter rotations, whose couch to sleep on, which camps were a no-go and which were alright, and which abandoned buildings the fuzz hadn’t discovered yet. Jason knew how to live his own damn life. He always made it through into March’s other side, and that had always been good enough for him.

But not for Bruce Wayne. Because Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake were coming home, and Tim was losing ground to the colonizers. His worst enemies. The infractors.

(Objectively, Jason was the one moving into somebody else’s home. But he definitely wasn’t the colonizer here. He was gaining no resources but Legos and Nerf guns. The territory was up for grabs and he was going to defend it).

Tim Drake wasn’t so bad, if only because he was a known quantity. Known super obnoxious and ultra pretentious quantity. He had come home from MIT a few times (actual MIT!) to conduct mysterious business that seemed to involve a lot of disappearing into the Batcave and getting snippy with Bruce, and although he wasn’t particularly nice to Jason he wasn’t particularly mean either. Jason had bounced through enough group homes that he appreciated that. 

The second time Tim visited - the first time Jason worked up the guts to actually talk with him - was the time to make his move. The opening gambit would be a scouting mission. He decided to push his luck and slither down into the Batcave, even though Bruce discouraged going down there without him. Guy didn’t make a rule about it. If Jason got caught he could pretend he was looking for Bruce in pursuit of following the rules. It was a gamble but Jason knew the odds.

The Batcave had been empty of Batman. There was only Tim Drake, sitting at a work table, bent over the deflated suit and holding a soldering iron. A chunky laptop balanced on the limp knees, and when combined with Tim’s giant goggles it gave him a creepy Young Frankenstein air. Bent over the Batsuit like that, he looked like a mad scientist dissecting Batman’s corpse.

Jason had carefully sidled up to Tim, keeping a healthy distance from the torch. Tim had split the cowl’s casing open like snapping open a skull to fish out the brains with an oyster fork, and he was doing something mysterious to the wiring inside. Jason couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Tim didn’t say anything until he finished. He pushed up the welding mask, shucking his gloves and shaking out his hair. “Can I help you?”

It wasn’t telling him to go away. Jason would press his luck until he was chased off. He sidled a little bit closer, gawking at the dissected Batsuit. “What’re you doing?”

“Installing some hardware to run a program I coded. Batsuit has facial recognition now. You’re welcome.” Tim took off the welding mask, carelessly dropping it on the floor. “You don’t need anything.”

Jason was baffled for a second before he realized Tim had meant the question literally - that he hadn’t been prompting Jason to talk, but asking if Tim needed to do anything for him. Practical guy who welded Star Trek tech into a superhero costume. But maybe he was right - Jason did need something from him. A measure of the situation.

Jason didn’t slide any closer, but he did tug a little at the hem of his fancy shirt. It was just red, but a fancy red. “Are we chill?”

Tim stared at him blankly. “Chill?”

“Uh. Cool.”

More stares. “Why wouldn’t we be cool?”

Was that a rhetorical question? Jason hadn’t met a normal person in months. “I’m kinda in your house,” Jason pointed out. “Eating your food. Being up in your space.” Being adopted by your legal guardian, but like in the weirdest way possible.

“I don’t really live here anymore,” Tim said slowly, “so…”

Great. Pure confusion. This guy didn’t have normal people emotions. Jason’s shoulders fell in relief. “Dope. I’ll just stay outta your hair. Won’t even know I’m here. Good talk.”

Tim stared at him for another long second, face blank, and a few seconds of hot panic hit Jason before he finally spoke again. “You really aren’t anything like Steph.”

Yeah. Jason fucking got that.

It was always a bad thing. They pretended it wasn’t a bad thing. Oh, nobody ever said it was bad Jason wasn’t Stephanie fucking Brown. But they didn’t need to say it. Jason was a master of tactics and strategy, and he knew he was without resources. 

Resources, in this context, being a goddamn fucking perfect blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. Being peppy and happy and nice. Apparently being some kind of dumb genius who knew everything and everyone. Jason didn’t have any of that. Without any resources or allies, his idiot new life knocked him flat on his back every time. Jason wasn’t Stephanie Brown, and boy did they let him know it. 

To be fair, Jason was pretty sure Bruce wasn’t doing it on purpose. His emotional intelligence was somewhere between rock bottom and zero. It was tragic, inconvenient, and not his fault, like he was a three legged dog. Jason got that he missed Queen of the Universe, but he didn’t bring up Tim in the same way. Granted, Jason already got the vibes that Bruce knew Tim was not normal whatsoever. Stephanie Brown was the paragon of normality to Bruce. Which was too bad for Jason.

Oh? You live in the East End? What do you mean you don’t know everybody in the East End? Stephanie Brown knows everybody.

Here’s a map, memorize it in fifteen minutes. What do you mean you can’t do that? Stephanie Brown can do that.

Why are you upset over your crook dad and druggie mom? Stephanie has a crook dad and druggie mom, and it doesn’t bother her -

Whatever. So sue him. Jason sucked. He wasn’t a genius mad scientist or perfection incarnate. It didn’t matter. So long as he stayed over the ‘return Jason like a lost puppy’ bar everything was chill. 

They could throw him out if they wanted. Jason didn’t even care. He had blackmail material, he could squeeze them. He was pretty sure Selina would help him out, even if it was only to spite Bruce. That woman played cute and everything, but Jason had her number. Spite was the gas in her engine and she was moving a hundred and twelve miles per hour. 

Jason was a soldier of life, who approached the world with a strategist’s grim mindset. Goal: stay in the semi-heated mansion featuring hot food and a security system at least until March. Impediment: Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake were coming home, highlighting Jason’s innumerable faults and subpar everything. Potential casualties: Stephanie and Tim’s presence could…end up with Jason kicked out for some reason, that part was fuzzy, but it was definitely a danger. Plan of action: be super polite, hope, and pray.

Tim came home first, blown inside with the blustery wind and spears of delicate ice. Jason had been working on homework in the library when he walked through the door, and pretended he couldn’t hear the clumps and noises of suitcases and warm-ish greetings and thumps of feet on hardwood. He waited several hours until he was comfortably pushing the perceptible threshold of purposeful avoidance before emerging from the library. Make an appearance - not avoiding you, look at my chubby cheeks! - and beat it. Plan of action, commence. 

Tim and Bruce were sitting in the fancier family living room - not the one for guests or the more relaxed den, the one for family but in a slightly more formal way and Jason felt like a fucking idiot stringing these words together in this order - on the fancy couches, talking quietly with each other. Jason absently noted that Tim was sitting in an armchair perpendicular from Bruce on the couch. Sitting closer to each other, but not on the same piece of furniture.

They both looked up when Jason stopped at the doorway, absently clutching the doorjamb and wriggling a little. Bruce’s expression lightened, but Tim just blinked sleepily. Guy always looked half-asleep and a million miles away.

“Jason. You finish your homework?”

“He has you doing the Bat-homework?” Tim asked, blinking slowly. He was like a sloth at the zoo. “That’s a throwback. Stephanie did nothing but read those textbooks for months. They’re pretty tough. Frustrated the hell out of her.”

Bruce just smiled faintly - a big grin on anybody else. “I think the first textbook she read since sixth grade was a college textbook on forensic profiling. Finished it in a week and asked for the next one.”

Thirty seconds. It took thirty seconds. That had to be a new record.

“It’s just normal homework. And yeah, I finished for the week.” Jason swung from the doorjamb, gawking at Tim. He hoped it was subtle. Maybe not. It was still weird to see anybody else in here. Tim didn’t exactly come back a lot, and he always acted like they were work trips. Maybe they were? “Hi, Tim.”

“Yo. Settling in alright?” Jason nodded fastidiously. “Good. Tell Bruce if you need anything.” Tim turned back to Bruce, brushing Jason off. “It’s just too research focused. Everybody’s hung up on theoreticals and theorems. It’s not useful, Bruce. I could be five times as productive in industry right now.” Bruce ticked an eyebrow at him. “It’s not the classroom.”

“It’s just a change, Tim. It’s the change that’s bothering you, not the school. You picked MIT specifically for its resources and access. Those are worth suffering your peers.”

“Its resources aren’t being used properly. All they’re doing is diagnosing brain tumors and providing clean drinking water to Bialyans. Dr. Hagelstein just invented a clean superconductor without a turbine. Like, who cares.”

Jason perked up. “Clean drinking water? How are they doing it? Like, in a fancy new way?”

“Dunno. I skipped the grant acceptance speech. The Queen of Bialya was attending, so I used the window to install remote access software in her assistant’s laptop.”

“Uh,” Jason said.

Bruce didn’t even have the decency to be surprised. “Why would you do that?”

Tim gave Bruce an incredulous look, as if he had no idea Bruce could reach such depths of stupidity. “Nobody’s been able to make the human trafficking charges against Queen B stick. This is how I’m finally going to siphon her incriminating signed orders.”

“Do I need to give you the destabilizing foreign governments talk again, Tim -”

“What do I look like, the CIA? I mostly just wanted the link into the Light’s movements.” Bruce opened his mouth. “I swear to god they exist and I know for a fact Ra’s is a founding member. I need the conspiracy dirt so I can finally have some blackmail on that man. I don’t have anything and it’s pissing me off.”

“Don’t destroy the League of Assassins without clearance,” Bruce said absently. He scratched his chin, for all appearances deep in thought. “The signed orders could give the Justice League probable cause to legally assault her underground bunker system.”

“The one obviously filled with illegal Kryptonite? You just want the League to confiscate it before the US government does.”

“That was implied, yes.”

“I’m gonna go help Alfred in the kitchen,” Jason said.

The kitchen: where nobody committed international espionage. Anymore. 

Tim was cool. He didn’t look, talk, act, or behave like a superhero, but he totally was one. Jason wasn’t certain Tim knew what and wasn’t legal, but everything he did was really important in saving Gotham. And becoming a world power. He was larger than life, strong like steel and just as impenetrable. Jason did not feel obligated to understand or bond with him. It felt stupid to even try, like an intern trying to talk about their girl troubles with the CEO. Tim obviously felt the same way, so Jason was really glad they were on the same page. He was a little worried about what happened to people who were not on the same page as Tim. Were they ever seen again?

Despite the questionable supervillain stuff, Tim was navigable. Cassandra Kane was also navigable. Very navigable - apparently she wouldn’t be home this break at all. Jason had never even met the woman, despite her legal status as Bruce’s long lost orphaned cousin.

She went in and out of the manor as she pleased, going wherever she wanted and doing God knows what. Jason was only pretty sure that Cass was a Batman thing and not an actual, legitimate jet-setting foreign cousin. He couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t exactly want to walk up to Kate Kane at a party and ask if Cass was actually her half-sister or if she was a mysterious Bat-byproduct that Kate was in on. Too awkward if he was wrong. 

Apparently she used to stay home a little more often, but since Stephanie and Tim left for college she had left to go do…whatever it was that Cassandra Kane did…by herself. In…Hong Kong? Thailand? Indonesia? It was really unclear. Jason was fine with this. The woman was obviously no threat, even if absolutely nobody had ever explained what her deal was. Bruce and Alfred sounded really fond when they talked about her, and even Tim obviously cared about her. How this translated to ‘Cass is somewhere, doing wherever, she’ll be back who knows when, hope she’s having a blast’, Jason had no idea. Convenient for him, though. It meant he only had to worry about Stephanie Brown.

Apparently Stephanie Brown was coming back to Gotham tomorrow, but she was spending a day with her friends and family in the Bowery before moving into the manor. Jason heard about this at length - from Tim’s long-ass cell phone calls with her to Bruce excitedly talking with the equally excited Tim about their holiday plans together. Excitedly for the both of them looked a little like having a facial expression, but still - excitedly.

Jason’s name was coming up a lot during their plans. This worried him. It might put a crimp into his plans to avoid everybody. 

He could already tell it would be pretty easy to avoid Tim. It wasn’t even that hard to play it cool around him. Cassandra would obviously be a breeze - he wasn’t entirely sure she knew he existed. Cass was another randomly appearing Asian cousin, she’d get it. But he could make no promises around Stephanie. He would stay stone against the chaotic tides of blonde women. He would not be moved. Jason was going to be as polite as Alfred and as saltine cracker as everybody in the house. 

Jason and Bruce had a little ritual. They would hang out in the Batcave for a little while pre-patrol - just Jason spinning around in the chair in front of the Batcomputer as Bruce stretched and got ready for patrol. Then Batman would hop into the car, the revving of engines would scream into the air, and Jason would wave as Batman zoomed off into the night. Alfred would walk Jason back up afterwards - partly because it was his bedtime and partly because Jason still wasn’t allowed in the Batcave by himself. Alfred would get him settled into bed, making sure Jason brushed his teeth. He always forgot.

And when Jason woke up the next morning and brushed his teeth and walked downstairs, Bruce would be there. Every time. Always. 

But Tim sat at the computer that night, doing something extremely scary on five monitors and talking intermittently with Bruce as he prepped for patrol. Jason walked down into the Batcave, saw them, and turned on his heel to walk straight back up again.

“Jason!” Bruce called. Jason froze on the steps. “Why don’t you come down? This is a good time to pick up some of Tim’s programming.”

“Bruce, it’s not going to make any sense to him.”

“He’s a very bright kid,” Bruce told Tim, making Jason flush. “You could teach him a thing or two.”

“I’m terrible at explaining things,” Tim said plainly. “I tried explaining my work to Steph a hundred times and she always checked out two sentences in.”

“Steph has a great attention span.” Bruce paused a beat. “But only for things she cares about. I don’t believe Jason is nearly as ADHD as she is.”

“Jason’s twelve.”

“Can’t stay!” Jason cried. “Making soup with Alfred upstairs! Good night, Bruce!”

He thumped upstairs at lightning speed, taking them three at a time, and narrowly escaped into the dim lights of the study before any more questions could be asked.

Jason had touched a computer, like, twice. Come on, Bruce. Why was he always acting like Jason was capable of doing anything so long as he put his mind to it? What, ‘cause Stephanie Brown could do it?

Jason put himself to bed that night, attacking his teeth with a toothbrush and angrily tucking himself under the covers. By the time Alfred came by to check in on him, Jason was glaring at The Magician’s Nephew and flexing how great he was at going to bed. 

“I remember when that book was released. Created quite a stir among my cousins.” 

“Narnia’s for kids, but sometimes you have to go back to the basics,” Jason said grimly. “Night, Alfred.”

But Alfred didn’t wander away, butler duties satisfied. He just ducked inside instead, walking in to stand by Jason’s bed. Jason curled up tighter with the book.

“Master Bruce has instructed me to subtly discover what you want for Christmas. Truthfully, I understand you would prefer that I propose the question more straightforwardly.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t y’all Jewish?”

“Yes, but far as we understand, you are not. Master Bruce wishes to make you feel welcome.” Jason couldn’t repress the quiet little scoff, immediately embarrassing himself, but Alfred just looked lightly amused. He gestured to the bed. “May I sit?”

Jason nodded and mumbled an apology. “We don’t have to do a whole thing ‘cause of me. That’s totally awkward.” 

“It will be exactly as big of a thing as you want,” Alfred assured him. “Master Bruce is feeling celebratory regardless. This is Master Tim and Miss Stephanie’s first time coming home from college for winter break, and with our new family member I believe Master Bruce will want to make a to-do regardless.” Somewhat cannily, he added, “I also foresee Miss Stephanie forcing a celebratory event in the name of family bonding.”

There it was. “Does that woman control everything that happens in this house?”

Alfred smiled. “Between her and myself, I daresay so. But Miss Stephanie can often lose sight of other’s feelings in light of her enthusiasm, so I wanted to ask you directly what you wanted. All four of us will do our best to make it happen.”

What Jason wanted?

Jason wanted a lot of things. Jason wanted the whole damn world, frankly. Jason had never lost sight of what he wanted, not once - losing sight meant forgetting to work towards what you wanted. Even if Jason wanted a lot of things he’d never have - well, fire and dreams were the only thing that kept a kid warm in a Gotham winter. 

But he couldn’t vocalize any of that. He’d never put any of those desires on his tongue, and he knew they’d stay nestled in his ribcage as long as he lived. What he wanted was no good to anybody but himself, and he wouldn’t devalue them by breathing a word. 

Jason had only ever told one person what he really wanted. That had turned out alright. But it had been really scary too. Jason didn’t want to do it again. He didn’t know what he’d do if he heard ‘no’.

Still, everybody in this house was a dog with a bone, and Jason resolved to give a little just to get the man off his back. “A big dinner on the 25th would be nice,” Jason hesitantly volunteered. And he just knew he’d never shake Bruce from the presents thing, so… “If you want to do presents or whatever, we can do them then.”

Alfred beamed, and Jason gave himself a congratulatory handshake. Successful campaign, total victory, no casualties. Some ground lost, but that was a necessary sacrifice. “It is always nice to have an excuse for a large meal. A suitable celebration of our first year together. Splendid idea, Jason.”

A rousing success! “Oh, no hassle at all.”

But Alfred’s expression just softened, and he carefully smoothed the bedspread near Jason. Jason prepared himself for evasive tactics. “Is there anything you’d like to do with Master Tim and Miss Stephanie?” Jason’s poker face must have said it all, because Alfred gave him another steady look. “Would you be interested in spending any quality time with them while they are home?”

“Uh,” Jason said, internally sweating. “If they…want…?”

“Miss Stephanie will likely insist on it. But you should say no to anything that makes you uncomfortable, Master Jason. She’ll back off if you ask.” Alfred gave Jason a steady eye, making him sweat. “If space and quiet is what you need, Master Jason, you need only ask.”

The prospect was appealing, but Jason was far from lowering the fortifications. Those questions were traps. The last thing Jason wanted to be was trouble. “I’m chill, Alfred! It’s no big deal. Just kinda awkward, ya know? Not used to hearing people in the house.”

“That, I can understand. Adopting Master Tim changed a great deal in this manor. Hearing the sound of young footsteps running down the halls. Music blasting from the den. Messes everywhere. It had been a long time. A very welcome change, I believe.”

“Let me guess,” Jason said flatly. “Tim was super quiet and Stephanie was super loud.”

“Naturally.” Alfred stood up, fixing his slacks a little. “I am excited to see what sort of child you will be, Master Jason. I anticipate meeting the true you. When he is ready to meet me. Have a very good night, Master Jason.”

Alfred turned out the lights and closed the door securely behind him. Jason only rose to lock the door with his personal key that he kept under his mattress, like he did every night, and buried himself under the comforters. 

The enemy hadn’t penetrated his territory. They’d fired a few potshots, but Jason’s fortifications had held strong. Jason was big, tough, impenetrable. Jason couldn’t be seen or touched. You couldn’t even tell if Jason was there or not - he never emerged from his stronghold, and he planned his strategies and tactics from the safety of his base camp. He was not the sort of general who fought on the front lines. 

Jason had thought their goal was to break down his fortifications and overpower his territory. He had assumed them colonizers, trying to take over every inch of Jason’s new life and old heart. He hadn’t known their goal was the general himself. Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

*

Today was the day. Huzzah!

Alfred was out picking up Stephanie - apparently her car was still in Jump, so the chauffeur it was - and Jason was left to gawk at Tim thumping away at a laptop in the dining room. He desperately wanted to know if Tim was doing super secret superhero spy stuff, but he couldn’t just ask. Tim never ignored him, but he never paid much attention to him either. The way they both liked it. 

Tim routinely spent most of his time in his study (which Jason had never been inside and would never go inside if he could help it - there were probably lasers). The guy never just sat out in the dining room like this and worked his arcane cybermagic. Jason, sitting at the breakfast bar and steadily decimating an apple, felt trapped. How many times could he flee any room Tim walked into before the guy noticed? It was a toss-up - guy either had Bat-eyes and saw everything, or he only gave a shit about his mysterious computer stuff and didn’t notice anything. Jason was willing to put his non-existent money on Tim pretending the latter when it was really the former. He wouldn’t fall for the tricks.

But maybe he did, because when Tim spoke he was so startled that he almost fell off the chair. 

“I should warn you about Steph.” Tim didn’t look away from his computer, and his typing didn’t slow. “She’s really a lot. Super pushy. Feel free to tell her to fuck off if you want.” Tim paused a beat, undercut by the keyboard rattling. “Am I supposed to curse in front of middle schoolers?”

“I won’t tell Bruce you cursed in front of a twelve year old,” Jason said, faux-loyally. Truthfully, he had the feeling Bruce would ask the same question, but it was good to cultivate a sense of camaraderie. “And yeah, sure. No problem. Super…excited to…meet. Her.” 

“I’m glad it took you two so long to meet. She gave Bruce a really hard time about adopting you. ‘Specially since it was only three months after she left and two months after I did. She said he jumped the gun.” Tim’s fingers froze. “Wait. Did she say it was a good idea or bad idea…?”

That was an important difference, Timothy!

But Jason had no time to interrogate further. The sound of the front doors bursting open resounded through the lobby into the dining room, and Tim bolted to his feet. 

“I’m home!” The voice was impressively loud, and Jason was momentarily taken aback by the thick-ass Bowery accent. That was not a Little Miss Perfect accent. “Wow, Alfie, you put the Ming back out!”

“It was finally safe from you,” Alfred said. “Let me take your bags, Miss -”

“Dope, thanks a million -”

“Steph!” Tim called, moving around the table, and Jason saw to his shock that he was smiling. Actually smiling. Like a normal person. “In here!”

And just like that, Stephanie Brown appeared at the doorway. She grinned brightly, and Tim grinned back, and she wasted no time in tackling Tim in a giant bear hug. Jason - regardless of what he wanted, despite how he felt - was struck dumb.

It was Robin. Robin, in the flesh. He hadn’t really put that together before. He knew obviously but it hadn’t really clicked until he saw her. Jason had seen the pictures and videos of her just like everybody else - seen the graffiti and street art and paintings - listened to every story and heard every tale - but apparently he hadn’t processed that Robin meant Stephanie Brown.  

Seeing her in person hit differently then seeing Bruce in person. Bruce was an idea given a face - Stephanie Brown was a face larger than life, and the idea of Robin in the body of a woman felt like capturing lightning in a bottle. She was wearing low-rise jeans and a purple crop top stamped with a sparkly butterfly that showed off how insanely muscular she was, hair teased into her iconic Robin mane, and she was really super pretty. How could Robin just look like an undergrad? Why did Robin talk like a valley girl?!

Jason had lost before he accepted the challenge. He had lost from day one. He had lost the day Stephanie Brown became a super-smart, super-tough, blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. And Jason had lost the day he was born. A homeless, go-nowhere kid who would only leave the Narrows when he inevitably went to jail. A brown kid with curly and thick black hair, skinny with an unpleasant and mean face, fucked up forever.

Why did Jason ever think Bruce might let him…

Stephanie Brown hugged Tim so tightly she picked him off the ground, making him wheeze and slap her shoulder. She only dumped him when footsteps came from another hallway on the other side of the dining room, revealing a smiling Bruce. Smiling. Like a guy.

“Stephanie,” Bruce greeted, somehow stiff as ever. “You look…tanned.”

“Six months and that’s what I get?” Stephanie asked loudly. Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. Bruce abruptly looked panicked. “Tanned? I live in California, Bruce, of course I’m tanned! Like, hello! What, no ‘happy to see you’? No ‘welcome home?’”

“Ah,” Bruce said.

“I bulked up! You don’t even care that I totally bulked up!”

Bruce’s panic deepened. “You said it was rude to comment on a woman’s muscles.”

“Muscles are totally in right now, B, keep up.” But Stephanie grinned, smile big and bright. “I can’t believe I missed you so much.”

Jason could only stare in horror as she hugged Bruce, tight and full, and he gently hugged her back. Defcon 5 event. Bruce didn’t hug. Bruce didn’t hug Jason. Well - Jason had told Bruce that he wasn’t allowed to touch him, ever, or he’d cut his hands off with a butter knife. Bruce had stuck to that rule religiously. Jason didn’t really know how to loosen the rule. He had no idea how to ask. 

“He missed you a lot,” Tim snitched, because obviously Bruce wouldn’t. “He missed you so much. It was so embarrassing. I was embarrassed just witnessing it.”

“Say a little less, Timothy.” 

Stephanie separated, unabashedly laughing at the embarrassed Batman, when she finally stopped to see Jason. Jason halted, halfway through eating the core of the apple. They locked eye contact, light blue eyes meeting dark ones, and Jason slowly readied the canons.

His throat was dry. His heart was hammering. The apple core was going down all wrong. Jason…

“Stephanie, I can finally introduce Jason.” Suddenly Bruce was there at his side, smiling encouragingly down at the frozen Jason. “Jason, this is Stephanie Brown. She’s a highly valued partner of mine. Stephanie, don’t overwhelm him.”

“Overwhelming? Me? Never heard of her.” Steph smiled at Tim, warm and happy. This woman did not stop smiling. She had a deadass California valley girl accent and she did not stop smiling. She extended a hand to Jason, who silently thanked God that she didn’t go in for a hug. Did they hug people in California? Californians probably did nothing but hug. “Jason Todd, right? I’ve, like, heard so much about you! I’m super sorry it took so long for us to meet.”

Jason quickly wiped his sticky hand on his jeans before shaking her hand, feeling the rough calluses. “It’s Jason Wayne.” They changed his name with his adoption, on Bruce’s hesitant offer and Jason’s instant acceptance. It was a strategic ploy on Jason’s part - a shared last name would subliminally influence Bruce into thinking of their arrangement as a more long-term, legal one. “Uh - nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“A Wayne with manners! I never thought I’d see the day.” Steph propped her hands on her hips, smile never fading. “Bruce and Tim could stand to learn a thing or two from you. But don’t get formal on me, okay? We’re, like, totes family.”

“Cool,” Jason said. “Thanks.”

Casualties: none. Damage to fortress: negligible. Outcome of first skirmish: rousing success. Jason gave himself a fervent pack on the back. Now he’d stay for five more minutes exactly before running back to the library to work on his workbooks. This family was awesome at forgetting Jason was in the room, if he could just flex that invisibility a bit more -

Steph clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the room. As if it wasn’t already entirely on her. Ugh. “You promised pesto sandwiches for lunch, Alfred! I haven’t had your cooking in six whole months and I’m going insane. Let’s eat as Jason tells me all about himself! Oh, and he’ll totally have to tell us what he wants to do over the break. We have so much family bonding in order. Tim, Bruce, are youse still trying to bite each other’s heads off?”

“Uh,” Bruce said.

“We’re over it?” Tim asked, as if Stephanie needed to tell him.

“Good enough. Holiday planning - go! Oh, but I have the craziest Titans story to tell you guys!”

Wow. They weren’t kidding about the forced bonding. 

Alfred really went all out with lunch, and from Stephanie’s delighted squeals Jason could see that it was all her favorites. They had done Tim’s favorites when he came home too. Jason wondered when they’d do his favorites. Maybe when he went to college? 

College. Hold out for college, Jason. You can make it ‘til college. Maybe Bruce would like him more than Tim by then - Jason wouldn’t try to drop out of Yale.

Jason received the annotated, fast-paced edition of Steph’s life over the next whirlwind twenty minutes. She had something to share about everything - from Jump City weather to how big of a pain it was to do her UC Jump premed college work and lead a superhero team at the same time. She had a mysterious autoimmune illness that let her miss as many classes as she wanted. Very convenient. She and Tim had absolutely no shame in disclosing their rampant lies. Superheroes had no morals. 

Apparently Cyborg was super funky - a jock that could work a computer like magic. Beast Boy was a crazy time and a ton of fun to hang out with, even if he was totally immature. Raven was no fun to hang out with but she was, like, so wild. And Starfire - ha ha, she was super cool, anyway! Her college friends were totally nice too, but the Titans just took up so much of her time. Listen to me recount this entire fight with Mad Mod. Who’s Mad Mod, you ask? I am going to tell you all about it!

The whole table was enthralled. Despite himself, Jason was a little enthralled too. He tried imagining living in a big retooled ex-high rise complex that Tim bought on the cheap with Apple money - whatever that meant - with your four friends as you all fought the weirdest crime with no adult supervision. When your friends were half-demons and half-computers and sometimes-animals and always-aliens. He just couldn’t imagine it - it was a lifestyle too alien from his own. Complete with aliens! No wonder she’d been too busy to visit.

“But the Titans can do without me for one month. Vic needs the practice as a leader. I told them that I haven’t seen my boyfriend in six months and not to comm me for anything short of Raven’s dad picking her up for custody weekend. This month is one hundred percent for my friends, the week my old man is gonna make me spend in Louisiana, and you guys.” Stephanie clapped her hands, smiling broadly. “So! Jason, what do you wanna do? Bruce doesn’t know what money is, we can totally do whatever you want. The world is so your oyster. What are you thinking?”

Jason delicately nibbled at his turkey and cheese sandwich. It had no crusts. His life had gotten so dumb. “I dunno. Whatever youse are down for.”

“Come on, there has to be something. When I was your age I would have sold my left foot to go to Disney World. Bruce would be down for anything anywhere in the world. Or we could go shopping!”

“I have clothes?”

“Do you have clothes from the Disney store? Damn, maybe I was just really into Disney when I was your age. What do you like, Jason, what are you into?”

Jason slowly shredded the sandwich with his teeth. “Um…not much.”

“Jason likes to read,” Bruce volunteered, the traitor. “His reading level is amazing. He’s working on 100 Years of Solitude in Spanish.” Jason had finished that a week ago. He was on a Pablo Neruda collection right now. “But I’m not sure how that translates into an activity.”

“What about sports?” Stephanie asked encouragingly. “You play soccer, Jason?”

Jason mumbled a negative into a tea biscuit. The barrage of cannonballs did not stop.

“What about watching any sports? Bruce could get you tickets to anything.”

“I hate sports,” Tim said.

“This isn’t about you, Timmy.”

‘ “Jason obviously doesn’t care about sports either.”

“Jason cares about something. He’s a twelve year old boy, they’re all brainwashed by commercials and jingles.”

“Not Jason. I’ve never seen him express an opinion on anything.”

“Really?” Bruce asked, surprised. A cannon punctured the outer walls. A watchman pulled the alarm bell. All hands on deck. “Jason’s as opinionated as you, Stephanie.”

Jason’s teeth clenched. Man down. His arm had been blown off by a cannonball. He was bleeding everywhere and screaming bloody murder. The poor man had a daughter. Only five years old. Tragic.

“ ‘Course he is, he’s an East Ender! We’re all grit. I couldn’t believe it when you said you made friends with another kid from my neighborhood. After all that complaining about my accent, too! I’m even going kinda Cali in my civvie ID, it’s super fun. ”

“The Mad Hatter asks you to repeat yourself ‘cause he has no idea what you’re saying,” Tim said, bored. 

“The Mad Hatter’s a punk bitch. The accent’s part of the Robin brand, it’s my whole hometown hero thing. I’m repping me and Jason’s hoods.”

The outer defenses fell, and the enemy streamed in. Screaming, crying, blood. Alarm bells pounded through Jason’s head. His soldiers were dropping like flies, cannonballs blowing their jaws off, and Jason felt the blood build up inside of him. 

That was all Jason had inside of him. Just blood and war. Jason was a brave general who never gave up against the enemy forces, but Jason’s army had been eroded by a long and hard winter that froze most of his men away. The cold had worn parts of Jason down for years, and even when springtime thawed the frost he never saw those parts again. He just couldn’t find them. He was trying so hard to protect himself and Bruce from the blood, but he couldn’t help losing every battle.

“We aren’t from the same hood,” Jason said lowly. A war drum beat in his ears.

Stephanie looked back at him, all wide eyed and innocent and blonde. “Aren’t you an East Ender? I ain’t splitting streets here.”

“You’re from the Bowery,” Jason bit out. “Do I look like I’m from the Bowery? I’m from the Narrows. If I stepped foot in your hood I’d get hate crimed.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Stephanie sombered, putting her sandwich down. “Sorry, kid, I know it’s not the same. Like to think we’re not as bad as we used to be, though.”

“Cool. Awesome. I’ll give your racist-ass Ukranians the ‘not as hate crimey as you could have been’ award.” Jason pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, probably skidding the nice hardwood. “Maybe it’ll finally make up for me not being Doctor fucking Barbie over there.”

Jason ran away from the carved oak dining table sagging with teas and cakes and ices at top speed. Catastrophic defeat. Blame the general’s tactical mistakes. It was all his fault.

He preemptively grounded himself, locking the door to his room and burying himself underneath the covers with a defensive Narnia. When he started hyperventilating he ignored it, and when he cried a little he ignored that too. Jason was super good at ignoring things. He ignored just about everything.

Jason noticed everything. He just ignored it. He’d go crazy if he didn’t. All the shit in the world, all the evils he saw again and again and again. Every woman ever hit and every Mami sliding a needle into her arm.  All the bad guys hurting the guys who ain’t never hurt nobody, just ‘cause they were there…

Jason did want something. He wanted something so damn bad, and he knew he would never ask for it. He wasn’t in the same galaxy as good enough, and there was no point in asking for something you’d never get. Bruce would probably laugh at him if he ever did ask. It didn’t matter that Jason couldn’t ignore bad things happening for one more second, for one more time - it didn’t matter that Jason wanted to do something about it more than anybody in the Narrows had ever wanted it in their whole lives. Jason was the whole damn problem.

He was so embarrassed. His war of attrition hadn’t lasted five seconds. His good streak had been ruined and Bruce was gonna get so pissed at him for being awful. And Bruce and Tim would get mad at him for being rude to Stephanie, and Stephanie probably didn’t feel anger ‘cause she was a saint but Alfred would look so disappointed in him and…

Maybe he should just dip. No, that was stupid. It was literally December. Bruce would give him a hard time but he’d deal with that. Guy wasn’t about to hit him. He was Batman. Batman didn’t do that. End sentence, end of story. 

Batman didn’t hurt kids and Robin always made kids feel safe. Everybody knew that. Even though Stephanie Brown wasn’t making Jason feel too safe right now. But he knew that was his fault - a fault inherent in his own character, in his own heart - and not hers. Jason couldn’t remember what feeling safe felt like. He probably wasn’t sure how anymore.

Nobody came to fetch him or try to talk to him. Jason didn’t know if he was disappointed or not. He just aggressively read and read and read, until the first hints of winter dusk began to fall and he fell asleep much earlier than usual.

*

Bruce liked to tell the story.

He didn’t get a ton of opportunities, since he had to limit himself to people who knew his secret identity. In practicality, this meant that Bruce liked telling the story to his six friends in the Justice League and nobody else. Barry Allen said that Bruce had smiled while telling the story, which had given him a split second heart attack. 

It wasn’t the full story. Jason couldn’t imagine that being the full story - plucky street rat tries to steal the Batman’s tires, the Batman takes pity on him and takes him home forever to live in his house and eat his organic cucumbers, happy ending for everybody. What kind of story was that? Jason would have yelled pedophile in two seconds. Stephanie would have berated Bruce for three hours instead of one. 

 Bruce didn’t mention this part of the story, but the minute Jason’s retaliatory attack with the lead pipe utterly failed he had dropped his weapon and booked it. Jason hadn’t exactly been terrified, but he knew getting caught would mean serious juvie. Worst case scenario, besides all the others. But he had worried his hair out for nothing - Jason ran ten blocks before realizing that Batman wasn’t chasing him at all. A clean escape.

Batman showed up at Jason’s squat the next night. Go fig.

That was the first time they really talked. Batman wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, but Jason had a unique skill for riling Bruce up into an actual argument, and they spent ten pointless minutes going around at each other about how Jason totally had people he was staying with - they’re on vacations, that’s why I’m not staying with them - fine, their pimp had come back and kicked him out - but I stayed with Mrs. Jiminez for three weeks! - well, her son got whooping cough, and I sure as hell couldn’t stick around to catch it - I’ll go back once he’s better, that’s all - yes, obviously I hit up the Church food banks, but you’re more likely to get mugged for food than actually walk away with food, and they prioritize the moms anyway - I don’t need goddamn foster care -

“You can’t keep couch surfing forever,” Batman had said. “You’re spending weeks on the street in-between shelters and friends. It’s not stable.”

“But it’s fine,” Jason had said. He knew it wasn’t great, but things didn’t need to be great when they could be fine. “The Narrows looks out for each other. I’ll just keep like this ‘til I’m old enough for a decent job, that’s all.”

Completely neutrally, Batman had said, “You could drug run.”

“This is entrapment.”

“You could have. You’re the right age for it. Why aren’t you doing that for money?”

“Because I’m not an idiot! That shit shortens your lifespan and lands you in juvie. And I don’t wanna help assholes sell meth to my friends, anyway. Bad enough they’re doing it. I don’t wanna be responsible for that, even a little. Life’s too bad for me to make it worse just for some extra cash.”

Batman had stared at him for a long time. Jason had decided he had won the argument, and thereby had obtained bragging rights forever that he had won an argument with Batman.

Then Batman put him in a foster home. Go fig.

Everybody knew social services was insanely evil and terrible, but Batman had spun half a dozen promises about how he’d personally assure that Jason found a good placement. Apparently he even put in a word with his contact at social services and everything. It landed Jason in a super awesome combo group home/boarding school (See, Jason, an education! Yipee!) under the benevolent hand of a sweet old lady called Ma Gunn. Look, Jason, if you’re so worried, the Batman will take time out of his busy schedule Being Batman to check up on you. Alright? Eat some cookies.

The first day had been fine. Nice, even. That was what he told Batman. He really had come to check up on him, knocking on his window in the middle of the night and helping hoist Jason to the roof so they could sit and talk. He had kept his promise. 

“This doesn’t make you right,” Jason had grumbled. 

Batman’s lip had twitched upwards. “I have it on good authority that I’m not right nearly as often as I think I am.”

“Atticus Finch you are not,” Jason agreed. “More like Odysseus.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because you know how to beat up mooks, but you obviously like winning your fights through tricking people instead. You’re both, like, theatrical.” Jason had thought about this. Extensively. He’d also gotten into arguments about it, but they were really arguments nobody else wanted to have. “And taking on crime in Gotham’s like taking on the gods. Equal amounts of impossible.”

Batman’s lip twitched up again, a little higher. “Would you call pride my fatal flaw, then?”

“Probably,” Jason said promptly. “You need a lot of pride to take on the gods. But that’s probably the only reason you started doing this at all, so I guess it’s a pretty good thing you have that fatal flaw in the first place. The best fatal flaws are the character’s greatest strengths. That’s when a story is really good.” 

Batman slowly sat down next to Jason. It was pretty weird seeing him like that - sitting down like a guy, cape carefully tucked to his side like any theater performer would do it. Jason could see his jawline. He needed a shave. Batman, shaving! Jason wished he could shave. Maybe he’d be more like Batman if he could.

“What’s your fatal flaw, Jason?”

“Mami always told me I was too angry.” It was one of his clearest memories of her - the disappointment on her face. The way she looked at him. Jason never wanted Mami to look at him like that again. “Too much like my dad. She said I’m gonna lose my temper at the wrong person and get myself hurt one day.” Jason scuffed a battered shoe on the wobbly shingle, making it creak. “But I dunno. The only times in my life I’ve ever really helped people was when I got too angry to see straight. I’m always throwing logic out the door and deciding to do what’s right even if it’s a bad idea. If the trouble I’m always getting into helps other people out, then that’s trouble I’m okay with. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.”

Jason had the feeling he would.

They talked for hours, long after Jason’s bedtime and probably long into Batman’s own work schedule beating up mooks. They only stopped when Jason couldn’t repress the yawns anymore, and Batman ended up carrying Jason back to bed. Jason had insisted he wasn’t tired, mostly because he wanted to keep talking about Emma and how Jason’s life dream was to be rich and set up all his friends with boyfriends who deserved them, but he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow anyway

When he woke up the next morning he thought it might have been a dream. What a weird dream that would be. What a weird and magical dream - one where Batman listened to everything Jason had to say and more, and one where Batman only left him because they couldn’t stay up talking any more. Jason hated himself a little for falling asleep at all. He wanted that night to go on forever. Now that he was in a nice little boarding school he would never see Batman again. For such an obvious sentence it was a little disappointing. 

Two weeks later Jason stood in front of a burning brick building, flanked by a mob of rabid children, tying up an evil old lady and cracking open crate after crate of evil child brainwashing drug and dumping it on the cement sidewalk. 

The police found him very quickly. They didn’t listen to a word he said, no matter how much proof Jason waved in their faces. He had been super careful to dig up a ton of proof, even taking pictures of the secret basement and the kid’s bruises and an audio recorded confession. Nobody wanted to hear it. Jason had to bite his way through a police station and dump his evidence on the Commissioner's desk just to get anything done around here. 

The Commissioner had pinched the bridge of his nose. The bridge of his nose had thumbnail creases. “Kid, you just committed five different felonies.”

“She was brainwashing children!”

“I believe you, kid, I believe you.” Commissioner Gordon grabbed the first sheaf of pictures, flipping through them quickly and squinting at each one. Under his breath, he muttered, “Never thought I’d miss Robin. She’d know what the hell to do with you.”

“Is Robin dead?” Jason asked, freaked. He loved Robin. She was literally Robin!

“What? No, she’s off doing…Batman never said. Either ninja training or college, it’s a toss-up. I think she cried when she hugged me goodbye, I couldn’t believe -”

The landline on the desk rang, and the Commissioner obviously intended to ignore it until he saw the flashing ‘Priority’ button. He picked up the headset, bushy mustache wagging. “Andrea, what - Jesus Christ! How the hell did you - dumb question, never mind.”

Jason perked up. Something told him… “Is that Batman? Is Batman calling you on your phone?”

“Do you see a Gordon signal?” The Commissioner asked him. Jason shrugged, and the Commissioner turned his attention back to the phone. His eyebrows furrowed closer and closer at Batman talked. “Already? What do you - I can drop the charges, but that black mark on his file isn’t going away.” He grimaced apologetically at Jason. Jason, who had no intention of returning to Social Services ever again, shrugged. “He’ll probably have to spend the night in the cells until we drop the charges and find him an emergency placement, but - you can’t be serious.” He was silent for a long moment before exclaiming, “What kind of favor does he owe you - how big is that favor? You can’t be - it’s three in the morning, I - Batman! Batman! Dammit!”

The Commissioner dropped the headset back on the cradle and groaned, falling back into his seat. Jason cautiously sidled backwards from the desk. He was prepared to do a runner. He’d bitten his way into this office and he’d bite his way out. 

“Kid, you sit right down in that chair. You are not moving until your emergency foster placement comes to get you.” The Commissioner kneaded his forehead, groaning. “Out of all the favors for all the Gothamites, why did it have to be this one…”

“Eh?” Jason said.

“You’re a very lucky kid, Jason Todd. And I’m praying for you.”

“Eh?”

It was the only appropriate response. Jason found out an hour later that the emergency placement was Bruce fucking Wayne. Bruce Wayne, who practically crashed into Gordon’s (he had been downgraded - Jason and Gordon were homies in Christ now) office, tie half-done and suit jacket limp over his shoulders. Jason wondered who the hell put on a suit at three am. He also wondered who the hell looked that panicked to be dealing with Jason, of all people. Had he heard about the biting?

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I’ve been having a heart attack for the past hour - you ever get woken up by Batman, Jim? That ever happen to you? How’d he even get my number?” Gordon opened his mouth. “Stupid question, sorry. Is that the kid? Hey, kid!”

Then Bruce Wayne grinned, big and anxious, and held out his hand. Jason shook it. Bruce sat down in the chair next to him, slouching and tucking himself into the chair a bit. It was pretty slick - Jason almost hadn’t noticed how freaking huge the guy was. 

“Uh,” Jason said. “It’s Jason Todd.”

“Well, Batman could have stood to mention that!” Bruce Wayne exclaimed, offended beyond belief. “You know what he told me? He called me up and was all like - you remember the Rose Bowl? Yes, I remember the Rose Bowl, hard to forget - and then he’s like, I’m calling that in. He’s all like, you’re still registered as a foster parent, right? And of course I am, after that whole thing with Tim - Tim’s doing great, Jim, by the way, I would say that he says hello but we kinda aren’t talking right now, but he would say hello if we were talking - which Batman knows about, because he was the one who called me up about Tim in the first place - why me, Jim! Why is it always me!”

“I cannot possibly say,” Gordon said.

Bruce barrelled through, ignoring him. “So he tells me to get here pronto, there’s a kid who needs a roof over their head and apparently I’m the only one he trusts to provide that roof right now. Me! Can you believe it! He said the same thing about Tim! The kid could have had the mob after him - actually, it’s kind of common knowledge I don’t touch the mob, that’s probably why - none of that’s important right now. Oh, and then he hung up on me. Go figure, right? Have you eaten, Jason? I brought you lunch. And some hygiene stuff and a change of clothes. The butler fusses.”

Jason stared at Bruce. Bruce smiled anxiously at Jason.

“No hablo inglés,” Jason decided. 

Without changing his facial expression at all, Bruce repeated the last few sentences in Spanish.

“Hindi ako nagsasalita ng ingles,” Jason rapidly made up. 

Bruce repeated the last few sentences in Tagalog, poker faced. 

“What the fuck,” Jason said.

“Rúguǒ nǐ yuànyì dehuà, wǒ yě huì shuō zhōngwén,” Bruce said, still smiling. “Dàn wǒ hěn quèdìng nǐ de yīngyǔ hěn hǎo, suǒyǐ rúguǒ nǐ yuànyì, wǒmen kěyǐ jìxù shuō yīngyǔ.”

Jason felt his psychological control over the situation slipping away. He had to maintain the upper hand. Establish dominance over rich people. “I’m a gutter child, my English is terrible,” Jason lied in Spanish, completely unapologetic. “If you make me speak English I’m gonna rack up more arson charges.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable, Jason!” Bruce said in Spanish. He turned to Gordon, switching to English. “There’s a lot of papers to sign, right? Just give them to me right now. Actually, can I duck out and grab Jason’s food first? Faking monolingualism takes a lot out of a kid.”

The food was good. It was super fancy rich people sandwiches. Bruce said that one of them had pesto before explaining what pesto was before Jason had to ask. Thoughtful of him?

That was roughly how Jason ended up in the passenger seat of a Porsche, nibbling his third sandwich and staring at the man in the driver’s seat. Gordon had muttered something about how Bruce was “as neurotic and awkward as ever” before giving Jason his business card and telling him to call before set another building on fire. Jason could definitely see the neuroticism: he went over the emergency foster placement papers once, twice, three times. He had detailed to Jason in completely fluent Spanish what exactly was going to happen the next few days and what he could expect, that he was going to get a key for his room and nobody would go inside if he didn’t want them inside, do you have any rules for me and Alfred (the butler - what was this, the Prohibition?) that you’d like us to follow? We can talk about my own later. Understood about touching you, thanks for telling me.

Jason watched Bruce drop the papers in his lap and slowly thunk his forehead on the steering wheel. His index finger was tapping the leather cover repeatedly in a steady staccato, a silent nervous tic. 

Eventually Jason felt too bad for him to bear the silence any longer. In Spanish, he said, “Chill, man. It’s just for a few days, right?”

Bruce raised his head, glaring intently at the steering wheel. He still seemed a little half-manic. “Right. Just a few days. Then we’ll find you a good placement. I know people. It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I am totally booking it,” Jason said sympathetically. “Nice try, though.”

“Jason, please stop trying to sleep on the sidewalk.”

“Why not?” Jason demanded. “It’s better than foster care. How am I supposed to believe that you’d find decent people, huh? Batman said he’d find decent people and he dumped me in an evil crime boarding school!”

Weirdly enough, that made Bruce outright wince. “Batman fu - Batman messed up. He really, really messed up. There is no excuse for how badly he messed up. Alright? But that’s not happening again. We’ll -”

“Who the hell would take me?” Jason asked, and Bruce quieted. “Who would want me, dude? Nobody in this goddamn city wants me around. I had to do something about that crazy old lady before she started baking kids into pies or something, and now I’m legally an arsonist. And if I meet any more evil people messing with kids then I’d do an arson on them too. I’d do a thousand arsons if I had to! Why the hell would anybody want me in their house?”

“Who wouldn’t!” Bruce cried, and Jason fell silent in bizarre shock. “You - you’re smart and passionate and kind. You took down an entire drug smuggling ring by yourself, Jason, that’s incredible. You’re a good kid. You’re a really good kid. Any parent would be lucky to have you.”

Jason’s eyes were burning, and his stomach was churning in thick knots. He was tired and confused and far away from home - far away from everything he had once considered home, and from everything he knew. He was in unprecedented territory. In a Porsche. As some rich guy told him he was a good kid.

“How would you know, huh?” Jason asked, voice thick. “I’ve never met you before in my life. How would you know something like that?”

“It’s obvious, Jason,” Bruce said quietly. “It’s obvious just looking at you.”

Jason stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and refused to say anything more. 

An emergency placement. Bruce Wayne said the phrase frequently, almost as a shield - against a very unimpressed butler, during a very heated phone call which left him wincing repeatedly. It’s an emergency placement, I’m not - this has nothing to do with - not everything is about you, you know - it’s not about Tim either! - it’s an emergency placement -

When he hung up he looked haunted. Jason gave him a sympathy banana. 

“That your girlfriend?”

Bruce took the banana, dead eyed. “It’s somebody who you do not want to get on the bad side of.”

“You on her bad side?”

“I might be in the dog house.”

“Ouch.” Jason started unwrapping his own banana, carefully peeling off the strings and dangling them into his mouth. “Hey, you ever read The Fellowship of the Ring? I heard they’re making a live action movie.”

“How on Earth are you supposed to capture the scale of Lord of the Rings in a live action movie?” Bruce asked, appalled. “It’ll be worse than that cartoon I saw as a kid.”

“There was a cartoon? Can we watch it?”

“Sure,” Bruce said. “I don’t have anything else to do right now.”

Even back then Jason knew it was a lie. He didn’t say anything about it. When Bruce took his big stack of scary CEO papers and sat next to Jason in the library, signing papers with a ballpoint pen silently as Jason read East of Eden, Jason didn’t say anything about that either. It always ended up with Bruce getting distracted and asking him about what was happening in the book, and then they would both get distracted as Jason explained the Biblical allegories, and the work would go forgotten. 

He should do his work on time. Guy was always super tired every morning. Jason got in the habit of secretly making him extra-strength coffee and slipping him a big mug when Alfred turned his back. Bruce almost cried the first time he did it. Jason leveraged the gratitude to score free reign in the attic and upper floors. 

That made for an incredible day of digging through heaps and heaps of boxes shoved away in dusty corners, digging his hands into antique World War II memorabilia and 19th century pocketwatches. Every box held the fragments of a dozen stories, and Jason eagerly took notes whenever a new object sparked a new idea. 

This Vietnam soldier’s helmet obviously belonged to a brave soldier who died trying to save innocents during the My Lai massacre…some say that his ghost haunted the perpetrators until their dying breaths and cursed their family lines for a hundred generations. That cuckoo clock was obviously a gift from a baron to a baroness, aching for her love - but she had promised her hand to the baron’s brother, a humble watchmaker born out of wedlock. He made that antique gold pocketwatch stuffed in the bottom of the box, obviously.

He only got a little embarrassed about the whole thing when Bruce asked at dinner where he had gotten the inspiration pocketwatch stuffed in his jeans. He had no idea how to explain how important it was for literary purposes. But Bruce just listened seriously to the story of the baron, the baroness, and the peasant watchmaker. Then he asked if the enamel birds in the watchface had some sort of symbolic meaning between the watchmaker and the baroness, and of course they did, and Bruce listened to everything he had to say for hours on hours.

Jason meant to book it his second night there. But he got distracted staying up reading, and he slept past his escape window. The night after that he didn’t feel like it, and the night after that it was raining way too hard. The night after that Jason didn’t think about it at all.

On the seventh night in Bruce’s house, Jason heard a tapping on the window. His heart leapt, and he eagerly threw off the covers. There was a dark shadow shrouded over his window, and he eagerly unlatched it and worked the creaky wood open until he could shove it all the way to the top and see Batman hanging out on the windowsill, cool as you please. 

“I thought you weren’t coming!” Jason cried, backing up a little in an attempt to give Batman space to swoop inside. He didn’t - he just stayed at the window, expression unreadable in the black night. “After everything that happened you aren’t bothering to check in on me again?”

“I trust Wayne. And I’ve been occupied.” Batman withdrew a file folder from his cape - what, did it have a kangaroo pouch or something? - and passed it to Jason. He flipped it open, squinting at the small text in the darkness. “Dossier of potential foster parents. Most of them are same-sex couples who are being stonewalled for regular adoption. Normal, middle class couples. One couple are both Mexican, and another couple is a Black woman and a South Asian woman. If you’d prefer…same race.” Batman paused, suddenly a bit awkward. “Are any of those the same race as you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 Jason did not know. Mami spoke Spanish and that was all he knew. He didn’t look anything like her. Jason was a bit lighter than Dad and had different hair, and Dad had Indian reservation stories from his dad. Scary ones. That was all he knew about that too. The de la Cruces down the hall, who had half-raised him, were certain he was mostly Filipino. They were the first ones to blame for the rampant Taglish, and the Mendezes on the second floor who also half-raised him were to blame for the Spanglish. The foul mouth was all Todd.

Sometimes it left him kind of confused about himself - like he was a lot of things that he wasn’t and some things that he was. That there were a few things that he should be but was not. That there were some things he could never be even if he wanted to. He had a lot missing that everybody else he knew just took for granted - but you could say that about a lot of things in Jason’s life. 

Every family in the dossier looked good. A lot of them were lesbian couples. That was really appealing. Not a single man but Jason in the house. No need to worry about anybody. Nobody to protect anybody from.

Somehow, Jason found himself saying, “Are these emergency placements too?”

“They’d be permanent. If you find no cause to burn down the house.”

“And what if I run away?”

“We’ll find something else,” Batman said. “We’ll keep trying.”

Middle class lesbians in the suburbs. People who’d speak Spanish or Tagalog with him. People who’d stay. It was a nice thought. 

When Jason spoke his throat was dry. He didn’t really know why. Maybe he just didn’t want to know. “Bruce said he’d see Fellowship with me when it came out.”

“You can still do that,” Batman said instantly. “Wayne would keep up contact with you. If that’s what you want.” Batman halted hard before saying, “Is Wayne - satisfactory? As a guardian?”

“He’s not exactly an option,” Jason said, ticked off.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Why did you ask it?”

“Call it curiosity.” 

“What good does curiosity do?” Jason asked. Man, Batman could be so frustrating. New sentences. “He’s an emergency placement. He’s said it, like, ten times. Nobody’s going to let me stay with the top bajillionaire of Gotham. He only adopted that other kid ‘cause they were neighbors and family friends already. Bruce and I aren’t in the same universe.”

“If you could.” Batman was still perched on his windowsill, a long streak of night in the already absolute darkness. Nothing like the city. Night descended in the suburbs. The city never slept, and Batman never seemed so far away. “If anything was possible. And if you could have anything you wanted. What would you choose, Jason?”

Jason was silent for a long second, but in the end it wasn’t so hard to say. Moments with Batman never felt quite real, and Jason always found himself letting his guard down. He could tell Batman his heart’s desire - something he could barely even admit to himself.

Finally, Jason had to say, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever said in my life. But he’s kind of like me, you know? I’ve never met anybody else like me before. Especially not in a mansion in Bristol. Isn’t that weird?” Jason paused, weird and uncertain. He felt new. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t want any of it. I’ve just never met anybody who thought the same way I do. It’s kinda dumb that we’re so similar…I dunno if I’m ever gonna find that again. I don’t want to ditch it, you know…isn’t that dumb? It’s dumb of me, right?”

Batman was silent for a long second, just long enough to embarrass Jason. Way to go off about how you’re BFFs with a billionaire, Jase. He definitely sounded like he just wanted the money. Like, hello! The money was what made things weird! He would rather they all live in a normal house that still had a butler for some reason. Less walking and better heating. Definitely less ghosts. What would Jason do with a mansion, anyway?

Batman didn’t say anything. He just gestured for Jason to move back a little, and once Jason scrambled back a few steps he effortlessly slid through the window into Jason’s guest bedroom. Jason had never really stood in the same room as Batman - all of their rendezvous were always outside - and it gave him a subtly different air. Less like a byproduct of natural and mystical forces and more like a guy. It fit better. 

“He doesn’t fit the profile of your ideal placement.”

Weird fucking sentences from Batman today. “People aren’t profiles,” Jason said, baffled. “What am I, Robocop?”

“He’s almost completely inexperienced with actual parenting. You’d probably need somebody better suited to helping you process your life so far.”

“I’m pretty inexperienced with being parented, so we’d be even.” Jason was growing more and more confused. But something else was rising in him too - the exact opposite of confusion, small and strange and persistent. He didn’t want to look too closely at it, but he couldn’t turn away. “And I dunno who’d be perfect at dealing with a fuck-up like me. You know ‘em?”

“There has to be somebody.”

“I don’t want to live with somebody,” Jason cried, “I want to live with Bruce! I’m not saying he’d be perfect, but I want to give him a shot. He’s a good guy!”

“You don’t know him well.”

“I can tell just by looking at him,” Jason said. “I dunno what he wants, Batman. Or if he wants me here or not. But I can tell he’s a good person. Can’t you?”

Batman was silent. He was hard to see in the dark, nothing but an outline and smear of black amidst the empty bookshelf and creaky window, and impossible to read. But Jason could feel something in the darkness, something clearer and clearer, and he didn’t need to see it to believe it. 

“Can you turn on the light, Jason?”

Jason silently turned around and walked across the room to the door, flipping the lightswitch and blinking hard as bright white light chased away the shadows. He turned around slowly, heart thumping a hard rhythm in his chest, breath catching.

But there had been no reason to be scared. He saw exactly what he had expected.

Bruce Wayne stood in his bedroom, cowl pulled down. His eyes were rimmed with thick purple bags, and even though his face was implacable stone there was something tight and fragile about the way he stood, like a glass ornament spinning on a Christmas tree. 

“If Bruce Wayne could have anything he wanted,” Bruce rasped, “he would want you to stay. He would like that very much.”

Hot tears pricked at Jason’s eyes, and he knew his heart was burning. He knew Bruce was searching for something in his own face - shock, betrayal, confusion - but he knew Bruce couldn’t find it. Jason mostly just felt kind of overwhelmed. His life had gotten super dumb.

“Bruce Wayne’s a rich asshole who always gets everything he wants. What the hell do I care about that!”

“I’ve never met anybody else like me either,” Bruce said, and for the first time he was calm and sure - as if he’d come to a resolution in the last few seconds, at some invisible tipping point, and there was no turning back now. “Kids like you are one in a million, Jason. I’d hate to let that go.”

Ugh. Ugh! This sucked! This was so embarrassing! Jason wasn’t going to cry! He rubbed hard at his nose, reiterating his point that he was not gonna cry. Teenage boys didn’t do stupid shit like that. 

“I’ll burn down your house if I have to,” Jason warned.

“I would probably deserve it.”

“You’ll have to get your act together.”

“I’ve been meaning to get around to it,” Bruce said, straight faced.

“We aren’t that similar,” Jason insisted, feeling the need to save face for some reason. Batman saying that you were like a mini Batman should have put any kid over the moon. But Bruce Wayne was kind of embarrassing. Miss Jason with that rich boy shit. “Your teeth are too good and you’re super neurotic.”

“Just around children,” the Dark Knight said seriously. “It’s a weakness.”

“I am your second foster placement.”

“If your first exposure to children as an adult were Tim and Stephanie as middle schoolers you would also be frightened of children.”

“Are you calling the Narrows orphan the least scary child you’ve dragged in here?” Jason paused a beat. “Wait. Who’s Stephanie?”

The beginning of the end, mostly. But Jason had no way of knowing that at the time.

*

Jason did not take evasive action. 

That would imply he was avoiding anybody. A retreat. But that was far from the situation. The terrain (Wayne manor, for those following along at home) was an ideal site to take cover from the enemy, and that was exactly what he was doing. If they found Jason in the library then obviously he wasn’t hiding from everybody else. 

That would imply he was scared of anybody. Jason was not scared of anything. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word, despite all of the other words he knew the meanings of. An enemy thinking you were scared (erroneously!) was a weapon in their hands. 

Man, Jason really couldn’t wait until Stephanie and Tim left. He missed Bruce. Jason-and-Bruce, specifically - when Bruce let him read old Batman case reports and they talked for ages about the mistakes made by the bad guy, the cops or the city, Bruce, and Stephanie, and how to avoid making them next time. It was kind of fascinating watching the sheer quantity of mistakes Stephanie made in her first and second years as Robin before they quickly began to taper off into the stupidly competent vigilante everybody knew she was. It was downright funny how many mistakes Batman made. Less than Stephanie by far but still super noticeable in hindsight. Jason knew that the Batman-and-Robin perfection had been a bluff. 

 Bruce hadn’t taken him to the Zen garden in the museum district for ages. Yeah, it was winter, but Jason wanted to feed the koi. He hadn’t exactly asked to go, but what if Bruce was too busy and said no? It’d be super embarrassing. 

Max embarrassment would be Bruce thinking he was scared. He might think Jason was a coward. Imagine Batman thinking you’re a coward. Other kids didn’t have this problem. If their parents thought they were lame then they were probably lame parents. If Batman thought you were lame then that said something about your character. 

Jason set up camp in the library, but he couldn’t really focus on his books. He even lowered himself to check out the shelf of comics and manga (did Bruce buy Stephanie Sailor Moon? All of Sailor Moon!?), but after four volumes of Sailor Moon he was too restless to keep reading. 

A sticky note was used as a bookmark halfway through volume three. It read: GEOMETRY PROBLEMS 1-10; PIAGET BOOK; PARTY DRESS - LAVENDER; MAKE TIM GO OUTSIDE (DATE?)(BRUCE →?)

Ugh. He was reading her Sailor Moon. Whatever, it was Wayne Sailor Moon now. Jason didn’t know what Stephanie was doing with the foundations of child psychology, but he didn’t want to find out. 

The only times Jason outright asked Bruce if they could go outside and have fun was when he noticed Bruce hadn’t really gone outside and had fun in a while. He did not like sharing this trait. But that was mostly because Jason got kind of shy about asking for things, and he could only really summon up the grit if it was for the other person’s own good. Who spent so much time and energy on other people’s Vitamin D? She was obviously busy enough. Had she done all the emotional labor? No wonder everybody acted like she was in charge - they couldn’t really be bothered to do her ‘job’ themselves.

Jason was not Stephanie Brown. He quietly resolved not to go above and beyond doing emotional labor for Bruce. It wasn’t the kid’s job to take care of the parent. Stephanie was his partner, she could do that all she wanted. Jason wondered if she was a partner before she was a kid. 

The library had a computer, a stocky PC with a chunky mouse and keyboard attached. A big tower sat next to it, and there was a little binder leaning against the side. Jason had always avoided the computer out of obscure fear and confusion, but he found himself reassessing now. He used to hang out in internet cafes. He’d seen people use computers, even if he’d barely touched one himself. He could figure it out, right?

Turned out the hardest part was looking for the letters on the keyboard. It took a few minutes, but figuring out the mouse and the menus were pretty easy. He wiggled his mouse around the Windows XP, pressing on a little picture of a spiky ball and opening up a game called Minesweeper. He messed around with it for a while, but he couldn’t really figure out the rules, so he quickly closed it out. 

He considered clicking on the ‘N’ picture and using the internet. The last time he’d used a computer was to check the internet - he had asked Bruce to search the news to see what people were saying about his adoption. He quickly regretted it. Jason didn’t really want to go on the internet again. 

On impulse, Jason grabbed the binder leaning on the computer tower and opened it. He was surprised to see that it was full of CDs, tucked neatly inside sleeve after sleeve. He flipped through the binder, the sheer quantity of CDs shocking him. He had no idea rich people loved computer games so much! 

Jason picked out the first CD he saw with people on it - The Sims - and fed it into the computer. He wiggled the mouse impatiently as the screen froze for a few seconds before it went dark. Just when he thought he’d broken it the screen lit up again, showing a menu and blasting a jazzy tune through the speakers.

You could make your own people? You could build them a house and make them get married? You could make them cheat on each other? This was like writing a story, but if the characters could move themselves around and start beating each other up. This was great. Jason wished he’d had a computer way earlier. 

The weak winter sunlight shining through the windows dimmed, and eventually extinguished itself completely. Jason, wrapped up in discovering the easiest ways to murder your own Sims to facilitate a Hamlet-esque plotline (the key was a swimming pool and a deleted ladder), didn’t notice until he heard the echo of footsteps down the aisle. He frantically tried to close his book before remembering he was using a computer, and he wasted precious moments trying to figure out how to do the computer equivalent of closing your book before realizing it was too late. 

“Alfred says it’s time to wash up for dinner.” Unsaid: you did not skip dinner. Jason ‘Malnourishment’ Wayne did not skip anything, under literal doctor orders.

Jason startled, looking around the library for the first time and realizing that hours had passed. He hadn’t even noticed. Tim walked forward, moving to stand a few feet behind Jason. Bruce had given him the personal space talk. Saved Jason the effort.

“Sorry,” Jason said, half-defensively. “Lost track of time.”

“Yeah, Bruce said you normally weren’t in here for so long.” Tim squinted at the computer monitor, watching Bella Goth cry at her abandoned wedding altar as her ex-fiance ran away with his mistress. “Is that my old copy of the Sims?”

“What, do you want it back?” Jason snapped.

“I only really played Sim City and Civ. Do you hate me?”

Jason choked on his spit, the sheer whiplash sending his head spinning. Tim just blinked at him, expression neutral and posture loose with his arms folded against his chest. He said it like he was asking if Jason preferred cheese or pepperoni. As if he didn’t give two shits about the answer. 

“Of course I don’t hate you!” Jason cried, solely on reflex. Tim squinted dubiously, silently asking if he had said that solely on reflex. “I mean - look, man, we ain’t beefing! We’re cool!”

“You refuse to be in the same room as me.” Tim didn’t seem particularly offended by this. “It’s fine if you do. I just think Bruce wants to know.”

“I don’t! Jeez, who just asks that! Who’s gonna say ‘yeah, I hate you!’. Just take a hint or something!”

“Sorry,” Tim said, not sounding altogether that apologetic. “I don’t like beating around the bush on things. Steph says I’m straightforward. You aren’t. If there’s a miscommunication we ought to clear it up.”

God. He was worse than Bruce. Jason didn’t know that was possible. He rolled his eyes, going back to his game and refusing to look at Tim. It made the whole conversation a lot easier. He made Bella go flirt with the neighbor, just to help her feel something. “There’s no miscommunication. We talked about this ages ago. Remember? I asked if it was cool that I was playing your video games, you said you didn’t live here so it was whatever? There was an understanding, dude.”

Judging by Tim’s face he didn’t remember that at all, and he may in fact not actually understand, but that wasn’t Jason’s problem. Tim’s terrible memory was his own fault. “Sure. But that doesn’t answer my question.” 

Bella Goth was rejected. Her snotty tears grossed out the other Sim. The realism in this game was off the chain.“I answered your question. I don’t hate you. Can you drop this? I know you’re only bugging me ‘cause Steph told you to.”

“She told me to leave you be, actually. I honestly have no idea where she is right now.” So he had gone rogue. Great. “She told me months ago that you were probably avoiding me because you were worried that I would make Bruce kick you out or something. I thought you wanted some space to figure out the reality of the situation on your own, but I guess you didn’t. Maybe I should have said something.”

Frankly, Jason couldn’t believe that Tim had strung five thoughts together regarding Jason at all. “And what would you have said, huh?” Jason asked. He couldn’t muster the energy to be polite or diffuse or distract anymore. He was just kind of tired. Life couldn’t be a war on all fronts. It wore you down too far. “You’re such a big fat genius. What would you have said to make me feel better and convince me that you aren’t a threat?”

“I used to blow up buildings.”

Jason stared at Tim. Tim stared at him. 

“Uh,” Jason said.

“Can I sit down?”

Jason dumbly nodded. Tim shrugged and sat down next to him, keeping the careful foot of distance between them. Sitting closer like this, Jason could see the bags under his eyes and tired lines around his mouth clearly. A guy that young shouldn’t have frown lines. 

“I won’t go into it,” Tim continued, even and easy. “It’s not really a time in my life I like to remember. It was only a few months after the mob gunned down my parents and I came to live with Bruce.” Jason’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help sucking in a breath. Tim looked distantly amused. “You don’t remember? It was big news five years ago.”

“I was, like, seven. I wasn’t really watching the news.” But it did sound pretty familiar. Tim had to have been Jason’s age. The thought made Jason’s stomach churn uncomfortably. “Sorry that happened. Must have sucked.”

“It happens to a lot of kids in this city. I’m probably the luckiest.” That was one way to look at it, but kind of a weird one. “I was angry. So angry I couldn’t see or think straight. I wanted to hurt them back. I started out doing smaller stuff, hacking into accounts and setting the IRS on people and everything. But it wasn’t violent enough. What had happened to me was violent, and I wanted to be violent too. Started blowing up warehouses. Fucking miracle I didn’t kill anybody. I almost killed a lot of people. Almost killed Steph.”

If Jason had been scared of this guy before, he was pants-shittingly terrified now. Holy shit. He didn’t know Tim could get scarier. Or more criminal. 

He knew Tim was ashamed of it. It was obvious just from the look on his face. But it was really only when he mentioned hurting Stephanie that he actually seemed pained. 

“All that to say, Jason,” Tim said, “Bruce still adopted me. The adoption hadn’t even gone through. He could still back out. But he barely even punished me. Steph was unconscious, I was sitting at her bedside - and he told me I’d already learned my lesson. I had.” He paused a beat. “He also said that Steph herself was punishment enough. Which was also true.”

Wow. Batman and Robin were family members with a domestic terrorist. And they just, like, kinda gave him a hard time about it. It was incredible. It’s like being superheroes made their standards lower somehow. It definitely explained why Bruce saw a homeless asshole like Jason and randomly decided he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Tim Drake-Wayne had put the bar on the ground. 

He could be the good kid. 

“Bruce is the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet. He’s Steph with a rich white man’s confidence. He’s implacable and I’ve never seen him change his mind on anything. If he makes a decision, he does it. There is literally nothing you can do that would jeopardize your place in the house, up to and including domestic terrorism.” Tim paused a beat. “And he’s already way more attached to you than he was to me at that point. I can’t think of a reason to worry.”

Jason mumbled something vague and incoherent about how Steph could probably change Bruce’s mind.

“Why would she do that?”

Jason made garbled noises about how he had been a jerk at dinner, so…

“When you think of an actual reason why Steph or I would want you gone let me know so I can refute it.” Tim paused, pointedly waiting for Jason to summon up an actual halfway decent logical reason why Stephanie Brown or Tim Drake-Wayne would somehow want him dead, gone, and onto the street. He completely failed. Tim didn’t seem surprised. “Cool. Stop flipping over nothing. Bruce likes you ten times as much as he likes me. You’re fine.”

Tim didn’t sound resentful or upset about it, but he was hard to read. The words struck Jason oddly - that even as Jason sat there stressing over being the expendable one, Tim was already writing Jason off as the favorite. Were any of them on the same page? Did Stephanie secretly think that Tim was the golden kid? Did anybody in this family actually understand it, or were they all blindly stumbling around, desperately trying to find the right way to love each other?

It didn’t cohere with Jason’s militaristic viewpoint. There was an enemy. There had to be. Otherwise nobody knew what was going on. It felt like a worst case scenario.

Jason found himself shifting uncomfortably on the very comfortable chair. He stared hard at the screen, aimlessly clicking his Sims around and watching them set food on fire. He pretended hard that he wasn’t talking to Tim. He was just doing what he always did and speaking to himself, playing with the figures in his head and keeping them neatly tucked inside his own mind, where nobody had to see and nobody had to know.

“What’s you and Bruce’s relationship anyway?” Jason hoped to god the question sounded casual. He was aware it probably didn’t. “He never refers to you as his kid.”

“I’m not,” Tim said shortly. Jason wondered how often he’d had to say it. Maybe people were typically too polite to ask? “I had a father. When I came to live with him I wasn’t exactly in the market for a new one, and I never decided I needed one.”

“So what are you, then?”

Tim hesitated.

Jason knew more about how Bruce’s guardianship of Tim ended than how it began. Alfred had really only shared two things about it: that Tim and Bruce loved each other but didn’t always get along, and that they had a gigantic blow-out fight that ended up in Tim packing his bags and leaving for Boston two months early, the week he turned eighteen. The subject of the fight was uncertain. It was either about everything or nothing, or maybe a lot of little things blown up in everyone’s face. They never really stopped working together on Batman stuff, but Bruce and Tim stopped talking as much.

They had chilled out. They still argued a bit, but it had never really felt like father-son arguing. They always sounded exasperated with each other, as if they were mutually shocked that they were telling each other what to do. From the sounds of it they always thought the other person was trying to make them do the stupidest thing on Earth. 

“I don’t know if I can describe it in a word,” Tim said finally. Jason didn’t fight the weird satisfaction that Tim had taken the question seriously enough to stop and think about it. “Definitely not a dad. More like a much older brother, I guess, but not really that either. Not a teacher and responsibility like he is for Steph. A friend on some level, maybe. Batman and Red Robin are teammates, so there’s that element. I don’t know. I guess we never put a name to it. Do we need to?”

“I guess not.” 

Jason had a lot of people in his life who he couldn’t dredge up the right names for. ‘Neighbor’ or ‘babysitter’ or ‘friend’ rarely cut it when the neighbor fed you when Mom was too high to put together a meal or grocery shop, and friends didn’t let you couch surf when you were turned out on the street. Sometimes people are more important than words.

But Jason found himself hesitating anyway. Despite that - despite all of that, despite everything he knew and everything he had convinced himself he didn’t care about - he couldn’t help but ask. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, at least to Jason. 

“What are you and me, then?” Jason asked. He hoped it sounded casual. He knew that it didn’t.

He couldn’t see Tim’s face, which was very much on purpose. He didn’t know what Tim was thinking, and he couldn’t tell the look on his face. Maybe he looked like Jason had dropped a dead rat on his table and asked him to love it. Not that Jason had asked him to love it. Jason wouldn’t do that. That would be a really weird thing to ask someone who destabilized foreign dictatorships. He just…he just…

Sometimes you asked a question you didn’t want to know the answer to. You had to ask the question anyway. You just couldn’t stand not knowing - you couldn’t stand living in a world where you hadn’t even asked, where you hadn’t even tried. 

Jason was always scared. But he always waged the war anyway. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. 

“What do you want us to be?”

Why did Jason always choose to wage the war? Why did he always take up arms? Why did he always fight for it?

“Whatever you want, I guess,” Jason said. “But it’s kind of a pain in the ass stressing out about you all the time.”

Tim was silent again. Whatever. Jason played in silence next to him, heroically attempting to drown as many Sims as possible. It was a hard world out there. Sometimes you drowned in swimming pools. That was life.

“So,” Tim said, somewhat awkwardly and very much on purpose, “you made a house yet?”

Jason glanced over at Tim for the first time. He was leaning forward a little, arms folded on the table as he watched Jason play. Had he been watching the whole time? “Yeah, duh. I’m doing a practice house right now with five bathrooms and a room that’s just windows.” Jason halted, considering everything before tossing it out the window. “The library has a ton of architecture books. I'm going to borrow the ancient Rome one and make an exact replica of a Roman senator’s villa.”

“That’s…incredibly cool.” Tim looked a little surprised to say it, as if he hadn’t expected to say the words and mean them. “You’ll have problems finding Sims with enough money to live in it, though. Do you know about the cheat codes?”

“The what?!”

“Here, click over to the Goths. I’ll show you. Can I see your five bathroom house?”

“Yeah! Look, I made a statue garden!”

Jason scooted his chair to the right, beckoning Tim in to bring his own chair closer so they were sitting next to each other. It was necessary for a better view of the screen and mouse access. 

“I like the way you placed the statues. Lots of feng shui.” Tim took the mouse as Jason nodded ardently. He had worked hard on it. “Here, let me show you how to access the debug menu. We can put your Sims in funny NPC costumes too.”

“Seriously?! How do you do that?”

“Look,” Tim said, “I’ll show you.”

Jason looked, and saw…

Jason saw…

*

They missed dinner, but somehow they got away with it. Tim was clearly kind of embarrassed about it, and kept on muttering to himself about bad influences, but Jason figured that Tim should probably focus on dealing with his more important character flaws that he shouldn’t pass onto children, e.g. domestic terrorism. 

Domestic terrorism. 

God, he was cool. 

Alfred barely twitched an eyebrow when he saw them again, settling for telling them that dinner itself had been postponed. Tim looked shocked, so Jason guessed that this wasn’t a very common occurrence. Come to think of it, if Bruce refused to come up from the Cave for dinner Jason usually just made himself a plate and went downstairs to sit at the desk next to the Batcomputer and munch potatoes as Bruce worked. He tried to munch quietly, but other times he couldn’t stop himself from asking questions about the case. He liked to think it helped - sometimes asking Bruce to explain the case helped him take a step back and catch things he would have otherwise missed. Bruce always told him ‘good job’, as if Jason had really done anything. Bruce had done all the work. But Bruce always acted like he had single handedly cracked the case anyway. What a dork. 

“Master Bruce is concerning himself with a case downstairs,” Alfred said, confirming one suspicion. “You two were otherwise occupied and we couldn’t find Miss Stephanie, so we agreed to postpone the meal for a few hours. Master Timothy, I believe Master Bruce would like your help tracking some financial statements for this case.”

“You couldn’t find Steph?” Tim said, surprised. “You tried calling her?”

“The call was declined.” Alfred raised an eyebrow and silently interrogated Tim and Jason in tandem. “Would you two know anything about that?”

Tim just shrugged. “Last I saw her, she was working out while I was installing the software updates for the Batcomputer. I went upstairs for lunch and didn’t come with me. And Jason’s been in the library all day. She seriously didn’t even come out for dinner?”

“It’s unlike her,” Alfred agreed. “Master Tim, would you -”

“I’ll go find her!” Jason piped up. He remembered too late that it was rude to interrupt Alfred, but he was forced to ignore the skyrocketing eyebrow and dazed blink anyway. “I’ll go grab her so we can eat dinner. Be right back!”

With that heroic proclamation, Paul Revere accepted his sacred duty and set his horse off at a sprint, galloping through dangerous territory mired in darkness so he could share his life saving rhetoric with the village. With words themselves - ‘The British are coming!’ - and a fast horse, the tides of war could be turned.

Or maybe he was more like Pheidippides? A simple messenger’s twenty five mile sprint carrying news of a vital victory towards Athens, a hero from Herodotus given recognition in -

Jason tripped over the stair runner.

“Master Jason, please do not run in the halls!”

Every Greek hero had his tragedy.

Stephanie wasn’t in her room, which Jason definitely had never peeked inside and which for sure wasn’t painted a garish shade of purple. That was no surprise - it was definitely the first place Alfred would have looked. Similarly, she wasn’t in any of the common areas. The door to Tim’s study was locked too. She wasn’t in the library, and Bruce was already in the Batcave. It was weird. Had she wanted to be alone or something? 

For a brief red-hot irrational second, Jason wondered if he had hurt her feelings. Nope. No way. Stephanie Brown didn’t a) sulk, and b) get her feelings hurt by rude gutter children. Adults who let kids hurt their feelings were super embarrassing, and everybody knew Stephanie Brown wasn’t embarrassing. 

Well, if she was sulking, she could get over it. The minute Jason got up from the computer he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and his stomach was seriously rumbling. All these regular meals and big portions were turning his body seriously whiny, but Jason liked to view it as the opposite of storing fat for the winter. If Stephanie was actually a fellow gutter child then she knew the hustle.

Jason aimlessly poked his head inside rooms and wandered into random hallways for a few minutes, but it wasn’t until he stumbled inside an actual small dance studio that he realized he had to be methodical about this. The Manor could probably eat an unsuspecting gutter child who let his guard down. He was already working on a short story with that premise - it was a metaphor for capitalism - but he really didn’t feel like making it a reality. The world was weird enough already. He didn’t want to accidentally speak anything into existence. 

Maybe he should check his own favorite hiding spots? Jason wasn’t dumb - he always saw little initials or doodles carved into the wooden frames in his hiding spots left by generations of delinquent children. Some D.W. really wanted you to know that A.W. was ugly. A.W. was four feet two inches tall - or so a post proudly proclaimed. R.W., U.W., and T.W. were, indeed, there. 

Jason secretly loved it a little. He had started keeping a log of every little piece of switchblade graffiti he found, marking its contents and location. Maybe he could sit down and match them all up with the ridiculous genealogies he found. 

He always wondered how Abraham to Uriah Wayne would feel about him sitting in their hidey holes, tracing his fingers over their initials. He knew they had not been writing to him. People like him only went inside Wayne Manor to clean. Whatever future generations of Waynes they had been writing to, Jason had never been in that picture.

So Jason wrote it large. He had grabbed an awl from the Batcave and found the most popular graffiti spots, the ones crowded with generations of names. He wrote his own, big and blocky and loud, right at the top.

J.W. ESTUVO AQUI. It was the first thing anybody would see when looking at it. He wrote it again and again, wherever he saw everybody else leaving their mark. J.W. ESTUVO AQUI. Jason Wayne was here. 

Even if he left - even if he was kicked out - Jason had been there. For those strange few months, Jason had been there. You’d have to chop down the house to tear him away from it.

Bruce hadn’t kicked out Tim. Tim was a domestic terrorist who wanted to drop out of MIT. They hated each other half the time and Tim couldn’t even name their relationship. 

Bruce had told Jason that he wanted him to stay. What had he meant? It had seemed so complicated at the time - that there was a secret message in those words that Jason had to divine, that it couldn’t possibly be that simple. And obviously the reality of the situation was hideously complex. But what Bruce said - Bruce’s feelings, somehow just the same as Jason's - Jason couldn’t figure out a way to complicate it.  

No matter how hard Jason looked, he could only find one recent-ish B.W. - tucked high in the eaves of the popular hide-away attic, the initials gashed into the wood before the graffiti artist surrendered all pretense and started gouging the wood with a switchblade in long, straight lines. The marks were made over and over again, so methodical that parts of the post were almost carved out. Nothing to say. Just anger. Nothing to tell the world - just a desire to gouge it all out.

Jason didn’t know at what point Bruce decided to become a superhero, but the world probably dodged a bullet on a pretty insane supervillain when he did.

Jason thought about those marks as he climbed up his favorite hidden stairwell to the favorite hideaway attic, clutching his Power Ranges flashlight in one clammy hand as he crept into its heights. There were easily three different attics (maybe the house had eaten two smaller houses?), but the smallest one had the best spot - a view straight out of the round window at the front of the house, tucked under the highest eave, giving you an unmatched vantage point over the grounds. Somebody had set up a large armchair underneath that window a long time ago, complete with battery powered lantern, and the windowsill was covered in initials and graffiti. Even Jason had left his own. But Stephanie Brown was the only one sitting on the armchair, curled up with her chin on her knees as she stared at a Polaroid picture.

The battery powered lamp was turned on, casting a soft circle of light around Jason and Steph, and Jason cautiously flicked off his own flashlight and stuffed it in his pocket. Stephanie had undoubtedly noticed him approaching, but she didn’t really pay him any mind. She just stared at the picture, mane of blonde hair wild around her face, eyes far away.

Jason opened his mouth to tell her that dinner was ready. 

“What are you looking at?”

Stephanie glanced at him for the first time, smiling faintly. She bent a finger inwards, and Jason trotted over to look. “Just a picture we took at our post-mission pizza place. See?”

The polaroid was small, but Stephanie tilted it slightly so he could get a better look. There was a blue blur at the corner of the frame, as if someone had leaned back very quickly so they would be out of the shot. Jason could see most of a tall Black guy, skin half-covered by glowing blue metal, holding up a piece of pizza threateningly and shaking a finger at the photographer. There was a big bite taken out of the pizza. Environmental storytelling.

But most of the picture was taken up by two figures talking to each other. Robin, sitting tall and happy, mouth open as she said something probably very funny to the giggling girl next to her. The girl was nuts - giant hair, half a foot taller than Robin sitting, with burnt orange skin and glowing green eyes creased in laughter. Their bodies were angled towards each other, a private moment between two women frozen onto film. 

“Wow,” Jason said.

“I know, right? That’s everyone’s reaction to Kory. She thinks it’s funny. Apparently nobody on Tamaran really thought she was anything special. Crazy planet.” Steph smiled softly. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the photograph. “We were so excited to introduce her to pizza. First time she has it, she loves it - eats a whole pie. Then an hour later she’s in the bathroom yelling about how we poisoned her. Turns out she’s lactose intolerant. Now we’re practically the mascots of the weird yuppie California vegan pizza places. Gar’s, like, so smug about it.”

“Vegan food? Like for hippies?” Jason was appalled. “There’s restaurants that just sell vegan food? Who goes there?”

“Californians, I guess! Those people are insane. It’s like another world over there. It’s, like, sunny and shit. Vic says I’m a bigger baby about different cultures than the actual aliens and extradimensional witches.”

“Right.” Jason hesitated, stomach boiling awkwardly. “Um. I’m sorry for…”

“You’re fine. I deserved that one. It made me think, anyway. And I don’t do that nearly enough.” Stephanie didn’t look up from the picture. Jason was worried that she couldn’t. “Hey, squirt. You’re smart, right? What do you do when…when you aren’t the person you thought you were?”

 Since when was Jason the smart one? Why was an adult asking him for advice? Jason didn’t know. But he thought about it anyway, hopping on the carved oak back leg of the armchair and hanging off the winged back. “Uh…I don’t know. You change your opinion about yourself, I guess.”

But Stephanie just shook her head. “Who you are is, like, a thing. It’s always been a thing to me. Steph or Robin or…whatever. But what if you - you do something, or you think things, and they aren’t something Steph or Robin would ever do or think? Are you something else now?”

Jason really didn’t understand this woman’s psychology. “You’re Steph. You’re thinking it. So it’s a thing Steph would think. I’m not following you.”

“Steph’s always been this. She can’t start being that.” Jason began experimentally climbing up the chair, digging his feet onto the arms and scrambling up to the top. “Robin’s always been Robin. She’s always been the girl I wanted to be. Robin can’t be…that isn’t really what I anticipated for her.” Quickly she added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being…that. Some of my best friends are that. But Robin’s not that. She’s not an alien or a mute assassin or anything. Robin’s a normal person, not a - more interesting person. Her relationships aren’t really where she always thought they would be. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I’m not really where I thought I’d be six months ago either,” Jason said philosophically. He hoisted himself up until he was gripping the back of the chair, elbows locked straight as he swung his feet. He could see straight down onto the top of Stephanie’s head from this vantage point. He could see from the very top of the window - from the very top of the world, with everything spread out underneath his feet in harmony. Undisturbed and eternal. Simple, if only when viewed from high above. “Things change. That’s not bad. Maybe who you wanted to be when you were my age isn’t who you want to be when you’re an adult. Shocker.”

Stephanie was quiet. Jason experimentally tilted himself forward, leaning over the back of the chair until his legs were high in the air too.

“You’re going to fall off.”

“I’m not gonna fall off,” Jason lied. “Look, I got balance.”

“I’m a gymnast. You’re going to fall off.”

“How can you tell? You ain’t even looking up.”

Stephanie sighed. She waited three seconds before getting off the armchair, almost at the precise moment that Jason over-balanced and fell ass over teakettle onto the overstuffed cushion. He bounced, blinking hard to clear his spinning vision, and when his eyes finally rightened themselves he saw Stephanie Brown standing in front of him, arms crossed and amused. 

“Right,” Jason muttered, world spinning. “Big damn superhero.”

“I think the proper term is ‘Wonder Girl’, thank you very much.” Stephanie crouched in front of him, expression softening. “Jason. Is there something you want to tell me?” Her tone was kind and gentle, and it abruptly panicked Jason. He shook his head. “Are you sure? There’s nothing you want to talk to me about? It can be anything.”

“I’m fine!” Jason did not break under torture. “I just came up about dinner, honest!”

“Is that what Alfred said?” What did that mean? But Stephanie just sighed, looking at Jason intently. Her gaze could be surprisingly intense - as if she was really looking at you, ready to crack you open and read the future from your entrails. “The boys warned me about overwhelming you about five different times, you know. I think they were worried I’d try to force you into family togetherness before you were cool with that.”

Jason mumbled something about how Steph obviously, like, didn’t even want Bruce to adopt him, so…

“Seriously? Who told you that?”

“You yelled at him for, like, an hour,” Jason said, desperately uncomfortable. “Look, it’s fine. I don’t care. Water under the bridge. Everything’s cool. I don’t want to make it into a thing.”

“A thing? I don’t - oh, man.” Stephanie sighed again, putting her elbow on her knees and propping her hand on her chin. Jason squirmed uncomfortably. But she didn’t seem upset or frustrated - just a little exasperated, as if her day was long enough without dealing with this too. “Jason, Bruce is…I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s kinda fragile.”

“He’s actually Batman?!”

“I’ve been watching Batman’s back and taking care of Bruce for ages. I was so worried about leaving him. I needed to get out of Gotham, I knew the guys needed me out in Jump, but…I was so worried I was ditching the people that needed me here. And then he and Tim had that blow up a month after I moved out, which totally felt like my fault, and…” Stephanie sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I was stressing out over him constantly. And then he’s calling me in a panic over emergency placements and I’m sitting here like - he needs me to help take care of him, what makes him think he can take care of a special needs kid! He’s already called me for parenting advice three times in the first week, again, before I told him he was on his own with this one and - ugh. It was seriously like - I turn my back for two seconds…I was just worried about him, Jason. That’s all.”

Jason couldn’t believe this. Well, he could - he had kinda gotten a picture of this just from listening around - but it was still ridiculous. “Bro. He’s, like, thirty. He’s on the Justice League. He has a company. And I’m the houseplant of adoptees. It’s chill.”

“It would have been fine if I had just been here,” Stephanie sighed. Jason couldn’t believe that this was the woman’s beef with him. Did this even count as beef? Was it more like tofu? Had Californian soy byproducts rotted her mind? “But I just had to run off to lead an undergrad superhero team. I hadn’t meant to start A League of Her Own or anything. They just needed me, that’s all. I wouldn’t have left if I thought Bruce would randomly start adopting children…I’m sorry, Jason. It really has nothing to do with you.”

With a slow and creeping horror, Jason realized that his new older sister was stupid.

He had to set this record straight. What the hell. He couldn’t let things continue like this. This was the most ridiculous thing Jason had seen in his entire life, and he once saw a homeless guy climb a gargoyle to try and eat a pigeon. 

Jason took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Stephanie stared at him, somewhat incredulously. Finally, like a teacher delivering the lesson of their short life, Jason said, “You are not Queen of the Universe. You are an actual teenager. You can’t control everything that happens in Gotham, and it’s dumb to try and control everything that happens in Bruce’s life. Why don’t you trust him? Why do you think he’s not good enough?”

Steph looked away, somewhat awkwardly, and muttered something about how he had literally been calling for parenting advice again, so…

“And you stopped helping him, and he did just fine! You’re an adult. Adults are supposed to leave him and go to college and start superhero teams.” Or they did in his books and Fresh Prince, which Jason had to assume was what the world was ‘meant’ to be like. Jason firmly believed that his life wasn’t the way lives should be. He had to believe that really, really badly. “It’s stupid as hell to try and give that up so you could keep babysitting a guy who doesn’t need it. It’s not your job to take care of him.” 

“It totally is, though,” Steph complained weakly. She was powerless in the face of Jason’s rhetoric and she knew it. “I’m Robin, of ‘Batman and’. We’re partners, we cover each other’s bases. Even if Steph doesn’t have to take care of Bruce, Batman needs Robin.”

“You live in California. You can’t exactly do that anymore. If Steph’s thinking things that Steph doesn’t think, then maybe Steph isn’t who she thought she was. And if Batman’s partner is doing her own thing with her own friends now, then maybe she’s gotta take Robin back to the drawing board. And, like, stop mothering Batman.” Jason shrugged, crossing his arms and scooting back into the armchair until he could fold his legs up. “But what do I know, right?”

Steph stared at him for a little while, just enough to make Jason feel awkward. And enough for him to start kicking himself. What was he on about? This wasn’t a parking lot fight with the other street kids over if Robin could beat up Green Lantern (“She hasn’t tried, but she took down Oliver in two minutes. I have footage. Why do you ask, Jason?”). He couldn’t exactly sit here and tell the actual Robin who and what Robin was. What did he know about it?

What did he know about Bruce? What did he know about this family? He knew where Steph was coming from. Jason had heard more than enough stories to grok that Steph had kept Bruce on the straight and narrow for a long time. She was the one who had taken Batman from a monster into a hero. Apparently she was the one who defused what probably would have been a super messy first meeting between Batman and Superman. Batman said that it was only because of Robin that he understood the importance of the Justice League in the first place. 

And that was just Batman. Bruce himself could be kind of a disaster sometimes. Jason could already tell that she always mediated Tim and Bruce. And Bruce got sad sometimes, and other times he obviously couldn’t find it within himself to talk to people or to take off Batman and go back to being Bruce Wayne. Jason didn’t know how to handle all that. If he did know, if he could do something - then wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he do whatever he can, to help the guy who helped him out the most?

But it still wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Bruce, who believe it or not hadn’t actually adopted Jason on impulse. And it wasn’t fair to Steph. Just because you were the only girl in the house didn’t mean you had to do your job and take care of all the guys too. She hadn’t been much older than Jason when she took up vigilantism. Other people should have been taking care of her. She hadn’t looked out for Steph first for a really long time - had she ever? 

“Can I sit?”

Jason startled, and he quickly scooched to the side to make room for Steph. He was still pretty small and the armchair was obviously super big, so they fit together just fine. Her bare arm brushed against Jason’s chunky red sweater, but she didn’t act awkward about it. She just settled in with him, pulling her own legs underneath her. She smelled like strawberries. Jason tried extremely hard not to notice.

It was hard to read her. Her expression was blank and controlled. It made Jason sweat a bit. Was she mad at him? Was this when the prophesied Stephanie Brown hatred campaign against Jason began? Why was she sitting next to him? Should he make a run for it?

“If you could decide who Robin was,” Steph said quietly, and Jason stiffened. “If you were in complete control of that. Who would you want Robin to be?”

What a weird question. What a weird question for Robin herself to ask him. Maybe she was having a bit of an identity crisis. Jason probably wasn’t helping there. The least he could do was give her an answer. Maybe he should pretend to think about it first. He really didn’t have to think about it at all, obviously, but maybe he should pretend. But he ended up saying it immediately anyway.

“He’s like Robin now,” Jason confessed. “I mean - he or she or whatever. Gender doesn’t matter. Uh, they’re a kid, though. Not that there’s anything wrong with being an adult. I mean - I have a really good imagination, Bruce says so, so -”

“You can just go for it, squirt.”

“Oh. Okay.” Why was Jason on fire? Why did even thinking of this set something deep in Jason aflame? “He’s like Robin now, ‘cause when he saves people he always makes them feel safe. People trust him. But he’s really different too. Because he’s really strong and powerful, and everybody’s scared of how powerful he is. When people look at him, they see…they see that he’ll save them no matter what. That he’ll never stop until everybody in the Narrows is safe. If he dies, that wouldn’t stop him - he’d just get back up again, ready for round two. He’s the most stubborn son of a gun in all’a Gotham.”

Jason took a deep, shuddering breath. The oxygen stoked the fire in him, but he couldn’t stop for the life of him. 

“He’s not really who you think of when you think of a hero. He doesn’t care about glory or fairy tale endings. But people - people who have nothing, they have him. People who have nothing in their pockets have Robin. Kids, the babies on the street - they’d have a big brother in Robin. He saves the unsaveable kids.” Jason’s breath hitched, hot tears pricking at his eyes. “Robin would have saved me. He wouldn’t have stopped until he saved me.”

The image was clear in his mind. He’d imagined it a thousand times. He had a good imagination, and Jason never had anything fun to do but read and think. He knew what Robin’s costume looked like - he couldn’t have the same costume as a girl, come on - and he knew the shape of his domino mask. He had the skin of anybody in the Narrows, so the people who needed him most knew that he was always on their side. 

When people had nothing, they would have Robin. They would know that they hadn’t been abandoned by God. That they could be saved. That any of them, any one, could save themselves. They could save each other.

A warm weight fell around his shoulders, and he realized Steph had slung her arm around him. She was soft and warm, and for a crushing moment Jason could almost feel his own mother’s hugs. 

She’d never hug him again. Not ever. Jason didn’t know how many more hugs he’d receive over the course of his life, but none of them would ever feel like Mami. There was no getting that back. There was no going backwards. 

Where could he go from here?

“Jason,” Steph said softly, “what do you want?”

What did he want? He wanted Mami, obviously. He wanted to stay in Wayne Manor forever. He wanted to read every book and go to that fancy prep school and he wanted Tim to play the Sims with him again just like he promised.

Jason could admit all of that. He’d been pretty insistent about the Gotham Academy thing, despite Bruce’s reservations. The one thing he couldn’t admit -

How could he admit it? How could he begin? He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her that the figure in his beautiful picture holding out his hand to Jason, the figure so tall and strong and smiling with bright teeth, who wore her own costume and wore it proudly, only ever looked like himself. That Jason never once daydreamed of Batman and Robin saving him - not once in all those long and lonely years. That he had only ever imagined himself, wearing a coat of many colors, holding a hand out to a boy with nothing. That he had saved himself. He couldn’t imagine anybody else doing it. 

“I dunno,” Jason lied. “I dunno…”

“That’s fine.” Steph squeezed his shoulder a little, and despite himself Jason leaned against her side. It was nice. When Steph spoke again her voice was tight and hoarse, and Jason couldn’t figure out why for the life of him. “Jason…who you are is who you’re meant to be. Okay? There’s nobody else in the world like you. There’s nobody else as thoughtful and heroic and insightful as you are. Jason Todd or Jason Wayne - you’re amazing. You’re wonderful. Just as you are.”

“Shut up!” Jason said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes hard. “You don’t even know me!”

  “I’m a pretty good judge of people, you know. And I know there’s people in this world who need someone like you. Someone who keeps people safe.” Jason’s chest hitched a little, making him hate God and all of his creation. Crying. In front of Stephanie Brown. Dante never visited this circle of hell. “I want you to have whatever you want, Jason. Whatever that is. I want you to have what you want.”

Jason wanted to push her away. He wanted to stop crying. He meant to. But somehow he could only lean against Steph and cry, and could only let her hug him, and he thought maybe he didn’t really know what he wanted at all.

*

Bruce stayed with Jason that night, foregoing their usual goodbyes in the Batcave so he could see him to bed instead. Jason knew it had been his own idea  - he thought Jason might have been avoiding him that day. Jason had solemnly told Bruce that it was a military maneuver, and that he didn’t understand the rules of engagement. Bruce had agreed, if only out of confusion.  

He reminded Jason to brush his teeth and helped him clean up his scattered room. Jason carefully placed a tin Green Army Man he found at the bottom of a dusty box at his headboard right behind him, so he could read over Jason’s shoulder. He pulled up an armchair next to Jason’s bed, and Jason settled in at the corner with a copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology. He had spent ten minutes recapping his favorite chapters from the book, sprinkled with some creative zest. Bruce was very interested in the story of the Golden Fleece and Jason and the Argonauts, but Jason thought maybe he might be making fun of him.

Batman was a formidable foe, and Jason was forced to surrender eventually. Jason dropped the book, throwing his hands up. “Fine! I was named after the movie! Happy? You finished interrogating me, officer?”

“What interrogation? I never asked.” The man’s poker face was impressive, but Jason couldn’t be fooled. “I didn’t even imply it.”

“There were no ulterior motives,” Jason hissed, jabbing a finger at the faux-innocent Bruce. “She liked the zombie skeletons. She thought they were cool and creepy, and she liked the name Jason, and that was it. Don’t read into it!”

“So your namesake has nothing to do with why you have that book memorized?”

Jason threw his book at Bruce. He caught it effortlessly. Damn him.

Dinner had been nice. Everybody finally sat around a table and talked like real people, even if Jason was flip-flopping at lightspeed between feeling extremely awkward and silently threatening to kill Steph if she ever let on that she saw him crying. She had mimed zipping her lips shut, but Jason didn’t trust like that. It was no good for siblings to have blackmail on you so quickly. 

At least they were chill now. They had shook on it and everything. Steph said that Jason had given her a lot to think about. Jason really didn’t know what that meant. He was a little worried he might find out. 

She had promised to teach him how to backflip before she left. And Tim had promised to play the Sims with him tomorrow. Jason interpreted the promises as white flags. He wasn’t sure if he was victorious or not. 

Jason quietly took the Green Army Man off his headboard. He rubbed his thumb over it, feeling the worn tin and letting the shard of rifle poke into his thumb, before carefully putting it back in his nightstand drawer. Bruce noticed, but he didn’t comment on it. 

The clock chimed eventually, and Jason’s eyelids were growing heavy. Bruce stood up from the armchair, carefully pulling it back to the side, and told Jason goodnight. He turned off Jason’s nightstand lamp, and his hand half-raised before he let it fall. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Jason,” Bruce said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…”

Jason hadn’t really meant to say it. But he didn’t want to leave it on his tongue anymore - unspoken and unknown. He opened his mouth, trying to say it, but the words stuck in his throat. But Bruce turned his back to him and opened the door, light tumbling into the room, and the rise of a deep well of courage in Jason’s heart punctured the intangible barrier between them.

“Bruce?” Jason piped up quietly. Bruce stopped at the door, turning around. The dim yellow glow of the hallway cast light over Bruce and crept into Jason’s bedroom. Jason found himself wishing it would stay away just a little bit longer - that Bruce would remain in the darkness for just a little while. “...can you stay?”

Bruce halted, looking at him with a shadowed expression for only a second, before he closed the door again. “I have to prepare for patrol soon. And you do have a bedtime.”

“Steph’s home. Can Robin patrol by herself? Just for a little bit?”

Jason felt his courage dwindle. He felt like a spoiled, selfish idiot for asking. But he didn’t feel like an idiot for wanting Bruce to stay. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But Bruce just shrugged and turned around, as if the ask was nothing at all. “You’re right. She’s more than capable.” Bruce walked back to Jason’s bed, and Jason daringly patted the space next to him. Bruce stopped, surprised. “You’re sure?”

“Steph’s a hugger. The dam’s been broken.” It was different with a girl than with a man - much, much different - but it was easier to blame it on her. Bruce cautiously sat down next to him on the bed, motions careful and precise as only Batman could make them. Something in Jason loved that - that Batman helped Bruce care about him. “You know, in Percy Jackson I’d be a son of Nike.”

“For victory? Wouldn’t you rather be the child of an Olympian?” Bruce settled in next to him, and Jason was suddenly acutely aware of the heat of Bruce’s body. He was tall and strong, but he wasn’t so strange. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t want anybody going around saying I only won fights ‘cause my parent’s a powerhouse. I’d win fights for my parent. And it would psych everybody out. Like - oh, we’ll lose against Jason, he’s victory himself! That kind of thing. I got it all planned out. So Nike would be my secret Mom, except she would have had me with Mami, because she’s a god and gods can do that.”

“Congratulations on your mother’s bisexuality.”

“Nike would have turned into a guy. Or something. She can be gay if she wants. Jeez, Bruce.” Jason shifted a little until he was pressed against Bruce, warm and strong. “There’d be this whole secret love affair thing. They met because the Louvre put the Nike statue on tour, and Mami went to go see it at the Gotham Museum of Fine Arts - they had a free museum day. And she saw the statue and she fell in love with it instantly. 

“And Nike saw her looking, and fell in love with her too. So Nike uses her power and makes the statue move right in front of Mami. Mami sees its headless body turning to look at her, and she knows that it can see her clearly even with no eyes and no face. But it’s still beautiful to her. The statue steps off the pedestal, wings beating, and walks towards Mami. Nike’s thinking that Mami can’t love an old statue with no head, so she tries to turn the statue into something beautiful that Mami could love. A really attractive man or a cute woman if Mami’s bisexual or something. But Mami tells Nike that nothing’s as beautiful as the ancient statue. It’s the most beautiful statue in the world. She doesn’t need to see Nike’s face to love her. Then they fall in love together.”

“That’s a beautiful story,” Bruce said gravely. “How does it end?”

“With me, obviously,” Jason said. “Mom and Nike never met again. But Mami gave me magic, and that means I’ll always be okay. This is where I’m going to start my own memoir. I’m working on that, by the way. It’s more of a diary now, but it’s pretty good. You aren’t reading it.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Bruce said. “But why start it here? Not during your life in the Narrows? I know it’s important to you.”

“That’s in flashbacks,” Jason said condescendingly. “It’s a literary device. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Clearly I do not.”

Obviously. Jason settled back in bed, leaning against Bruce just a little more. Little by little. “It starts here because here is where it starts. This is when it begins.”

“Here?” Bruce asked. He sounded a little surprised. Jason didn’t know why. It was obvious. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Jason said. “Right here.”

Jason fell asleep like that, warm and safe with somebody who loved him, and for a brief moment as he slid from consciousness to sleep he thought that he might have something he wanted.

He would get the one other thing he wanted soon. Stephanie was changing, and Jason was fulfilling his potential. Batman needed a Robin. They’d see.

Jason would show them. 

[thedevilinmybrain]

this is the fic i was talking about that i started and just...never did anything with

Despite what television and movies would have one believe, once you've attended one college party - you've attended them all. It doesn't matter if it's in a cramped dorm room or a shitty apartment across town, it's always the same thing, the same cast of characters, the same outcome. Somehow, a fist fight will almost always break out. Someone will be left crying on the curb, waiting to be dragged home by friends. A couple will do a little too much in a too public place. And there is always a mess, sticky and suspicious, left on the floors and countertops.

It doesn't mean that the monotony doesn't have its own charms though. One can look around the room and finally settle into something that vaguely resembles home. There is an odd sense of serenity in knowing the gaggle of faces crammed into someone’s shitty apartment, recognizing who to approach and who to avoid, even the same pulsing, vibrating beat of the music has a certain familiarity with it.

After three months of the grueling summer heat, a sleepy college town emptied down to the locals, it's like a true revival to be here again. Louis lets himself sink into it, the atmosphere washing over him from the moment Zayn and him had wedged themselves in through the front door. It's an overwhelming and overstimulating experience. The lights are mostly off, just a few low lamps and a string of brittle Christmas lights strung up along the top half of the living room. It's enough to give some illusion of ambience, a  subtle glow that makes faces vague and wandering hands mostly in shadow.

It's not that the decor really matters anyway - it's the thick press of bodies - people shoved together, talking, laughing, shouting that makes it feel more intense. Someone has wedged the large couch against the wall, a tangle of people crowded into the center rug as a make-shift dance floor. They're the reason so many people are shoved to the perimeter of the space, little clusters of friends perched around, leaning close, not minding when they get shuffled this way and that.

Someone has been wise enough to tape Tupperware containers over the smoke detectors. The curl of smoke hangs over it all, thick and coiling, the sharp scent of cloves mixing with another sharper - more exact.

As it is, Louis is settled against the wall in the hallway leading from the kitchen to the living room, a six pack of Magic Hat between his feet. Because, as he’d learned early in his college part career, if you want to drink the good stuff at parties – you bring your own and you keep it with you. It's doing a good job of keeping his pregaming at a steady level, the vodka they had shared in a water bottle on the way over still sitting warm in his chest.

"How was your summer?" Matt - a guy from Louis' figure drawing class last year - leans into his space, shouting to be heard over the music. His dark hair is cut short, curling up on the edges from sweat and humidity, a large chest tattoo peaking out from his v-neck.

"Boring. Glad to be back. You?" Louis asks, tries to remember if he's even spoken to Matt before. Probably, maybe a group project last fall?

"It was good. Spent some time road tripping in Virginia. Really nice down there. Was really good for like, my muse, ya know?" With a small scuffle, Matt's speckled Doc Martens bump into Louis' Vans, squeezing himself close as a group of girls wedge themselves by. They're laughing loudly, Smirnoff Ice held above their heads. "Do you hike at all?"

"What?" Louis turns his head, tilts his ear up.

"Do you hike? Like are you into hiking?" Matt repeats himself, his breath warm on Louis' neck. "Or outdoorsy stuff?"

"I mean, sure. Who doesn't like a night out under the stars, am I right?" Louis is lying. He's lying so well he almost believes himself. When was the last time he went camping? Maybe that overnight field trip with the Boy Scouts in third grade?

"You should come with next time." Matt grins, his teeth flashing even in the low light. It makes his face appear oddly young, the stubble around his lips thin and patchy. “Me and my friends did some molly and I swear, it really woke up my chakra, ya know? Like, I felt so intune with nature. I painted for like six hours. Some of my best shit."

"Oh yeah?" Eyebrows raised, Louis nods his head slowly. He could really use another beer, or five, or at least a shot of the tequila that he can barely make out on the kitchen counter.

He's saved a moment later from having to say anything when a warm arm suddenly slings around his waist, a shock of bleach blond hair nudging into his shoulder. Zayn is burning up, his thin tank top clinging to his chest, the sides cut open along his ribs. It's too hot in the apartment for all of the people that have managed to cram in, but it doesn't seem to dissuade anyone.

"Where have you been?" Zayn hollers, his voice sharp and loud directly in Louis' ear. "I've been lookin' for you! I left for two minutes and you disappeared!"

"I've been here!" Louis shrugs, has to shift his weight, spread a little wider to keep them both upright. Zayn's pupils are so blow his eyes look black, staring at Louis' through a scrunched brow. "Where have you been?"

"I went to the bathroom and fuck." Zayn keeps his grip firm on Louis' hip, reaches down, tugs a bottle out of the cardboard holder between Louis' feet. "I don't know. Fuck it. I'm here now though. Who is this?"

"Matt." Louis points between the two of them. "This is Zayn. Zayn, this is Matt."

"Yeah, man, nice to meet you." Zayn nods, fumbling his beer a little as he pats himself. "Ah, shit."

Matt just stands there, giving a close inspection of the two of them. Louis already knows the conclusion he's going to draw, wouldn't be the first, as Zayn gives up on his own pockets and reaches for Louis instead. It's the easy way Zayn fits against Louis' side, his hand curling casually into the front pocket of his skinny means to pluck out Louis' lighter. He uses the bottom of it to pop the top on his beer, lets the metal clink to somewhere on the floor, lost in the mass of feet. It's too familiar of a touch, too intimate, and Louis watches as Matt's mouth turns down a little bit more.

"Uh, hey man." Matt hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll catch you later, yeah?" He makes a little aborted motion with his hand, stumbles away with his 40 cradled to his chest before Louis can even reaction.

"<i>Shiiit.</i>" Zayn drawls, lets go of Louis to lean on the wall in the now vacated spot. "Were you trying to pull? I fucked it up, didn't I?"

"No." Louis rolls his eyes, takes the lighter back from Zayn's limp fingers and pulls his smokes out. He lights a cigarette, passing it over, before getting one started for himself. "He was trying to get me to go do molly with him and camp in Virginia and awaken my inner muse or some shit. I don't fucking know."

"You camping?" Zayn snorts derisively, shaking his head. "Outside? With bugs? And no wifi?"

"It's not the camping." Louis exhales a cloud of smoke up towards the ceiling, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh. Come on, Lou. You don't want to go out there and, let me guess? Become one with the higher powers of art?" Zayn's cackle is half drunk and half scathing. "Let's all just get in touch with ourselves and one another?"

"Semester hasn't started yet so if you could cut the hipster bullshit." Louis reaches out fast, flicks Zayn's ear. "<i>Thanks</i>."

Zayn makes to retaliate, hand already raised, when it's caught out of the air. A long arm covered in ink comes into view and suddenly Liam is stumbling forward into the them with a solid clunk. His beer bottle has dented the plaster a bit, a long scuff in the paint, but he doesn't even seem to notice as he smears a kiss to Zayn's cheek. Then one to Louis' temple.

"Oi! Payno, christ's sake!" Louis grumbles loudly, barely gets out of Liam's grasps as he means to drag the three of them into a group hug.

"My boys!" Liam croons, his face flushed and eyes glassy. They hadn't seen him when they came in, so there is no telling how long Liam's been here. His t-shirt is wet on the bottom though, wrinkled from what looks like the edge of a table. Liam's never been one to resist a beer pong tournament and his glassy eyes, red face give away that he was champion for a while.

"Easy, easy!" Zayn is laughing, leaning his cheek against Liam's as they straight up, nearly toppling into the couple making out behind them. "God, you fucking bear. Don't gotta maul me."

"Yeah? Thought you liked that?" Liam has that look in his eye suddenly, glinting as his eyes shamelessly roam over Zayn. This is a new development, barely started since the beginning of summer. They're still so new that the excitement hasn't even really started yet.

Louis lets his eyes roll away from them, tilts his body so he can see past and into the living room. It's dark in there, a collection of shadows and vague shapes, all milling around and dancing. Louis has half a mind to go out there, his cigarette now sitting in the bottom of his nearly empty beer. He could lose himself in the press of warm skin, strangers with wandering hands and sickly sweet breath. He knows he's already lost Zayn and Liam's attention, both of them still just staring at each other, having one of their silent conversations.

It’s not like he's big into dancing, not really, but the crowd is mostly just swaying into each other – bumping and pressed tight into a mass of moving part. Louis could do it, just wedge himself between some people and let the heat take over. It’s only a fleeting thought though, nothing coming of it. Through the sea of twisting legs, sprawled bodies, Louis catches the full view of the couch. There are half a dozen people squeeze onto the dark leather and Louis instantly scowls, feels the hackles on the back of his neck raise when he recognizes the man sitting directly in the center.

Colton Montgomery.

At least, that's what his name actually is. But a guy like that doesn't deserve to be called anything other than what he is. So, Louis refers to him as Asshole and Asshole only. Capital letter. Proper noun. Full stop. It's not like Louis to hate people like this - he's a people person! An extrovert with a loud mouth and a strong opinion. But there is a special spot in Louis' mind reserved for this guy.

Tall and blond and ridiculously handsome, Colton is the epitome of old money privilege. He's got an easy way of commanding a room, just steps through the door and grabs attention, draws a crowd. Maybe it's the luxury brands always draped across him or the perpetual tan that screams 'I just stepped off my yacht.' Or maybe it's the rumor that he's second cousins to the Rothschilds. Either way, where Colton goes, eyes follow.

That is until he ultimately opens his fucking mouth. All it had taken was one side eye, one long glance during Orientation Week for any awe to turn to ash on Louis' tongue. Colton and Louis had been assigned in the same dorm building, same floor even. And yet it was his cold, blue eyes glancing over Louis’ ripped jeans, his scuffed and holey Vans, a generic hoodie on, before contempt had settled in.

“They really will give anyone a scholarship here, huh?” Colton had sneered at his friends, his companions in vintage luxury brands, perfectly combed Martha’s Vineyard haircuts. It was all in that phrase, that hinted edge, the very unspoken hiss of ‘white trash’ and Louis had been done.

Sneering, Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out another cigarette. It was just bad luck that Colton and him seemed to show up at the same parties, were always seeing each other on campus, had suffered through a class together last year. In a private art school though, it is almost expected. Louis can’t fucking escape him. He’s always around and always with those side long glances, that sneering mouth.

Louis watches through the haze of smoke as Colton slings his arm around the shoulders of someone, his head tilted back in a slow, lazy grin. The guy, small and pretty, tucks himself into Colton's sided, a hand pressed to his chest. It's clear where this is heading - all coy with heavy eyes made glassy with alcohol - leaning in to whisper to one another. It's a party after all, but it's just the way Colton goes around it - cocky and spread out on the couch, like a king to his subjects.

Louis French exhales, lets the smoke spill out from his nose as he means to turn back to his friends, put the Asshole out of his mind, when something else draws his attention. More of a someone than a something. There is a guy cutting through the crowd, uses his arm to wedge between people. He's tall, head tilted down so the wave of his dark curls falls like a curtain over his face. He tosses it back with a quick hand, crushes it to the side, and Louis can see the edge of his sharp jawline, big eyes illuminated in the dim, Christmas lights. His full mouth is twisted into a thin line, only deepening the closer he gets to the edge of the dance floor.

Hands placed on thin hips, the guy stomps in front of Colton, motions his hand between him and the pretty boy tucked into his side. It's too far away and way too dark to make anything out as far as words, but whatever the guy says makes Colton pull back. He's shaking his head then, saying something placating and pushing the smaller guy away from him, hands up in something like faux innocence. The curl haired one instantly takes the now vacated sea, sits with his knees close together, a pronounced space between where he's sitting and Colton's thighs rest.

Louis keeps watching, can't look away, as the guy starts talking, his hands raised in a sharp shrug. Colton laughs at him, sharp and loud even over the music, but the guy doesn't smile back. Instead, he flinches hard, his ringed hand coming to rest against the base of his throat, like he's holding himself back, swallowing it down.

"Oi. Payno?" Louis drags his thumb along the length of his beer, scratches halfheartedly at the label. He's trying hard not to stare anymore, keeps sneaking glances up from his eyelashes. The guy is illuminated by the Christmas lights now, the glow  highlighting the pretty contours of his face. "Who is that?"

“Who?” Liam swivels his head wildly to the side, tries to grab a glance of who Louis is referring. He's in every club on campus; practically an expert on the whole student body. “Who’s who?”

“Stop making it obvious!” Louis hisses, reaches forward with his foot and purposefully presses the toe of his Vans into the top of Liam’s shoes. “Behind us. Long hair. Open shirt. Talking to <i>Asshole</i>.”

Liam turns his head again, uses Zayn’s shoulder as a bit of a shield as he stares down the length of the hallway and into the living room. It’s not hard to figure out who Louis is referring to, the boy perched on the very edge of his seat, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Whatever <i>Asshole</i> – Colton – is saying to him, he doesn’t look very happy.

“Oh, um, I think that’s Harry?” Liam squints a little. His cheeks are blotchy and red, his beer sweating all over Zayn’s tank top as he leans heavily into the other boy. “Styles. Yeah. Had an Art History class with him last semester.”

“Oh. Cool.” Louis makes a point of looking disinterested, apathetically shrugging his shoulders, but Zayn is fast. He’s known Louis since Freshman Orientation. He knows all of his tells.

“Oh. Oh no. Lou no.” Slumping on the wall, Zayn rests a hand heavily on Louis’ shoulder, shaking his head. “Look at who he’s with! He has trust fund written all over him.”

“I wasn’t-“ Louis instantly defends, hope that the darkness of the hallway covers his slow blush. “I was just wondering.”

"If you want to pull, I'll help you out." Liam slings an arm around Louis' shoulder, glances around at the people milling by. "Saw some Freshmen in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Lookin' like they could use some company."

"I'm not going to pull an eighteen-year-old. Thanks. Not desperate enough yet to rob a cradle." Louis shudders, thinks of his own teenage sisters back at home. It's only a three-year age gap but it feels like eons. "I'm going to get some air."

"Louis." Zayn tries this time, wraps his hand around Louis' wrist. “I was just playing.”

"I'll be back. Don't leave without me."

Louis leaves them too it, sees out of the corner of his eye as Liam tucks Zayn back against the wall. He's sure they'll be there when he gets back, preoccupied with staring at each other or doing whatever it is that they do now. It's still too new to be anything other than desperate touching, but Louis is waiting for a bit longer before he starts to pry.

Outside, the air is thick with summer humidity, the cicadas chirping loud and shrill in the trees. Louis finds himself alone on the back porch, just the lone alleyway street lamp to keep him company. His throat is starting to feel raw, dried out from the alcohol and the smoke inside. He combats it by taking another swig of his beer, digs his Marlboros out of his pocket again.  

The new semester starts in two days. Monday hanging like an omen - foreboding and dark. Louis will be a junior this year, nearly finished, halfway there. It's hard to put into words how he's feeling about it. Art has never been about being a release for him, as so many other people say. It's something else. When Louis creates something, he's not releasing anything. He's pulling it from within himself, he's making himself raw, bloody, bruised. There is a fragility, a kind of selfish selflessness in letting himself be known and then judged for it. It's exposing self inflicted scars and then praying that someone sees them and understands, views the beauty in the creation.

With photography, it feels even more genuine. Sure, you can create with lighting, angles, forced perspective, but there is a point where you can't hide anymore. It's not like other mediums where a vague shape or a color choice can be metaphor’d away. With photography, at the end of the day, it is what it is. All that is left as a barrier is the view of the artist and the view of the audience.

Louis thinks maybe he's been a little morose about it, should probably not be so introspective when he's sat in the dark on someone's back porch outside of the first party of the semester. Thankfully, he's only a third of a way through his cigarette and he's interrupted a moment later.

With a sharp bang, the backdoor opens and then closes, lets out a burst of noise from the party within and then muffles it in the same moment. The man who steps out is tall, thin shoulders hunched as he shuffles across the back porch, steps haggard in a way that is most likely from alcohol as the beer bottle in his hand knocks against the far bannister.

It's hard to make out any features other than his long legs, wrapped up in jeans and ending in a pair of boots, until the alley light catches on his face. It's a sharp contrast - the soft curl of his hair against a sharp jawline, the curve of a cupid's bow and full mouth, the pale light gleaming on the wetness of his cheeks. With a rough sniffle, he rubs the side of his hand under his nose in a sharp, jerking motion.

"You know." Louis can't help it, sets his hands on the banister so he can lean out of the shadows of the house. Call it liquid courage or maybe just dumb fucking instinct. Zayn’s not out here to tell him not to. "You really are too pretty to be outside crying at a party."

"Excuse me?" The man jolts a little, turning to see where Louis is perched, the curl of smoke from his cigarette coiling around the end of the deck.

"Just seems a shame." Louis grins a little, just the corner of his mouth tilted up. "Feel like you should be in there, holding court with a couple fashion majors or something, dancing your heart out. Not out here by yourself, crying over some fucking prick."

"I'm not- What-" The man blinks, rolls his shoulders back. There is a dainty silver chain hanging around his neck, a small circle pendant resting in the center of his sternum, shiny with sweat. "Who are you?"

“An unbiased observer.” Louis swings his legs, watches the guy shifting around on his feet. “And someone who knows that you’re wasting your time if you think some pretentious asshole is worth your time. Colton is a dickhead. You should find someone else.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brushing his hair over his shoulder, the guy rubs a hand along his cheek, mouth pulled down in a pout. He’s eying Louis now, gaze drifting over what he can see in the shadow of the house. “And I think you should mind your own business.”

“Alright. Sorry.” Carefully raising his hands, Louis relents as he slips off the bannister, getting to his feet. “I wasn’t trying to pry or anything. Just seemed like a shit reason to ruin a perfectly good party. First of the semester and all.”

“It’s a dumb party anyways.” The guy mutters, wipes at his other cheek now, a few stray tears still clinging to his jaw. “Who celebrates coming back to school anyways?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Louis tilts his head back, watches the soft curve of the man’s mouth, lips flushed red from biting at them. “Why don’t you let me take you back inside? Get a drink and a dance? Take your mind off of it?”

“I-“ Looking up, a delicious sort of flush takes over his cheeks, and the guy looks decidedly certain before the backdoor is slamming open, Colton stepping onto the deck.

“Seriously? Jesus, Harry. It was a fucking joke. You’re always so sensitive.” Colton’s long, sun kissed arm thrusts forward, hand wrapping around the guy’s – Harry’s – wrist. “Are you seriously crying over – Oh!”

He stops when he spots Louis, takes one long look between the cigarette perched between Louis’ fingers, the blown out knees of his jeans, the cheap beer in hand. Louis’ entire outfit probably cost less than one of Colton’s shoes, the leather gleaming in the light. Colton seems to cataloguing it all away too – the way Louis is staring and the way Harry is standing – only a few feet between them. Drawing conclusions, his grin turns brittle, haughty and sharp, tugging Harry half a step back and into his side.

“Tomlinson.”

“Asshole.” Louis greets, resists the urge to draw himself up. Colton only has a few inches on him, but it feels like miles.

“Haven’t dropped out yet?” Colton smirks, ignores the way Harry has gone stiff beside him, rubbing at his cheek. “They still letting you paying tuition in coins?”

“Well, you know what they say, it’s better to be given a scholarship based on talent than flash your daddy’s name and bribe your way in.” Louis snarls, feels his teeth grind together around the words.

“Bribe? Why would I need to bribe anyone?” Colton does that scoffing laugh of his, the sound sharp and scathing. “I know it must be hard for you to understand, but I didn’t bribe my way into this school. I was formally invited.”

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 14

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13]

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan, @rebleforkicks, @yjrevolution, @majahu, @honey-wine, @accio-boys, @achromaticerebus, @solomonssimp, @tired-ass-show-girl​, @dreamlessnight

The next few days passed slowly but not uncomfortably as you began to get used to your new normal. A guard was no longer posted outside your room but you’d heard that there were a few extra stationed at the entrance... which you supposed was expected considering how easily you had been able to slip out into the forest that night after Thranduil scared you. You hoped nobody had gotten into trouble for you escaping like that.

You spent your time in the library that Thranduil had taken you to. You had been cautious at first, worried that it was all part of some elaborate ruse, however you had relaxed as the time passed. You spent a lot of your time curled up in the corners of the library itself, lost in whatever book you had picked up that day, finding in between those pages a sense of solace and freedom for the first time since you found yourself stuck here.

The time when you were not in the library, you were usually with Myleth or walking around exploring... tentatively of course. However, you had not actually seen the King since the night he allowed you access to the library and you thought that, with some more luck, you wouldn’t see him again. Maybe he would forget all about you and you could blend into the background of his kingdom, living out the rest of your days in exactly the way you were now. Though, you couldn't fully shake how... nice it had been of him to allow you access to this lifeline of a room.

Legolas had been in the forest for the last few days with Tauriel and the rest of their group, destroying a spider nest that had reappeared almost overnight. He felt better about leaving you there now that his father seemed to have relaxed just a little since his recovery. He felt secure enough in the knowledge that his father wouldn’t throw you in the prison again at least. Legolas was also pleased that his father had recovered from the poison, though the speed with which it had affected him worried him - was this something new from Mordor? Still, things were better for now so Legolas could focus fully on destroying the spiders and scouting the woods, keeping the border of the Realm safe.

The group were travelling back to the palace and would hopefully be back in another day and a half. Tauriel turned to him during their final camp set up, the two of them being on watch while the others rested. “Do you think he is really going to keep her here forever?” She asked, having been working up the courage to get the words out. Sometimes Tauriel didn’t know quite how to take the King. She knew that he favoured her, yet he did not seem accepting of Legolas’ obvious feelings for her. She respected him as a King but she did not always agree with him... in fact, Tauriel often found she disagreed with him but she was not in a position to disobey like Legolas could sometimes get away with.

He sighed, shrugging as he fiddled with a stick between his fingers, thoughtful. “I have honestly given up trying to understand the inner workings of my father’s mind.” Though he did think that he was actually pretty good at understanding his father and his... complications. “I do not see him keeping her prisoner forever.” He said after a pause. “It is not his way.”

“He seemed to be pretty set on it.” She couldn’t help but mutter, gaining a look from Legolas but he always appreciated whatever Tauriel had to say to him. He liked that she didn’t hold back because of who he was and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. "She does not deserve to be a prisoner at all."

“Trust me, Tauriel. She will not be here forever.” He assured her, though he found himself feeling ever so slightly sad about it. He had come to see you as something close to a friend already. Legolas liked you and thought that you were a person of true kindness and strength. You had given your freedom for your father’s and again for his own. You had shown his father kindness where nobody would have blamed you for not doing so. Something about your actions had even seemed to get through to his father in some way, though he knew the King was loath to show it, but after being graced with yours he had shown his own kindness in return.

“Did you hear that?” Tauriel’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts. Legolas became alert again at once, various voices reaching his ears from a distance away. He glanced at Tauriel, who was already up on her feet, and nodded as the two of them crept away from the camp to find the source.

The library was quiet, peaceful, as the night descended. The curtains at the large window that stood in between some bookcases were open but you couldn’t see much of the sky from here unfortunately. You wished you could see the stars again, even just once. Sighing, you turned back to the book in your hands, getting lost once more in the words. You had stayed quite late here tonight, not feeling able or ready to sleep. You had even missed dinner, choosing instead to stay in here and hide away in your beloved words.

When the door opened, you jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Looking up, you expected to see Myleth having sought you out with a tray of food much like she had done the first night you’d come here. Instead, you met the King’s steely gaze once more. Surprise instantly flooded you as you stared at him. He kind of stared back at you for a long moment before he walked towards you, setting a tray down on the floor. “A servant was on her way with this. Apparently you have not yet eaten despite it being so late.”

He probably meant Myleth so you just nodded, though wondered why he would now be here instead of her, but you didn’t question him. It almost felt like he was telling you off for skipping meals but you decided you were being ridiculous to even entertain the notion that he would care. You tentatively reached out and popped a berry in your mouth, wanting to look like you were grateful and not just completely confused and intimidated by his presence.

You were both quiet for another long few moments before Thranduil started moving again, his long legs carrying him across the room. Your shoulders relaxed as you let out a tiny breath of relief. However, he did not move to the door as you had expected and hoped. Instead he made his way towards a bookcase where you knew from your exploration that all the books were in Elvish, plucked one from the shelf, and moved to sprawl out in a large armchair on the other side of the room. All you could do was stare at him, wide eyed, as he studied the page of the book in his lap as though you no longer existed. It seemed that he was intending to stay here... with you.

Swallowing down your uneasiness, you forced your gaze away from him and back down to the book, though you now found that you were completely unable to focus on anything at all, the words on the page as jumbled as your thoughts had become.

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 5: A Broken Mystery

Think of these camp interactions as filler as it takes me an eternity to write. But I still find them relevant to the story line so DON’T SKIP!

ao3

wattpad

Arthur nurses his morning cup of bitter brewed coffee. His lips pucker in distaste, he considers dumping the rest of it.

 Definitely not worth a whole extra quarter.

 Placing it to the side as he turns his attention to his book of memories, ramblings, and thoughts pondered but never spoken. Taking his worn, dull pencil into his hand and letting the words form themselves on the pages.

 Dutch has been scouting out the mine nearby. Place called Bingham. Never been much of a prospector for gold or any other valuable dirt these fools seem to think is worth dying over. No doubt he’s spun a tale to any who would listen to the ramblings of a man spouting promises and dreams. Though I suppose we all become believers if we have someone just as foolish to believe in something greater than ourselves.  

 I’m definitely one of them.

 He compliments the empty space with a drawing of the camp, emphasizing the Junipers as the center piece. Accidently smudging the corner with his thumb. Today’s been quiet, nothing really going on. Dutch off doing what he does best leaving the rest to await his next move. He can hear casual exchanges of the other camp members around him. His focus zoning into one in particular.

 “It’s alright miss, you’re safe now.” Bessie is speaking in a very hushed delicate manner. One he imagines a mother would use on a crying babe. He hears Tilly and Annabelle as well, uttering other words of comfort.

 “We’re here for you! You don’t have to go through this alone.” Annabelle tries to keep her voice chipper and her attitude confident. But it’s only met with silence. His eyes find the group of girls huddled around (y/n). Whom is hunched over, face covered with her hands and shoulders trembling. Bessie’s arms encircle her in an embrace, stroking the top of her head and humming a lullaby.

 They all sit in awkward silence before Tilly stands, “I’ll go get her a drink of water.” Arthur follows her to the barrel.

 “She alright?”

 Tilly’s face twists in discomfort. “I don’t know.” She clutches the now full cup of water in both her hands. “I don’t know what to do for her. She… She just seems so hopeless sometimes.”

 Arthur thinks back to the times he and the gang had taken in one another. Tilly being one of them. Lost, broken, hopeless.

 “We’ve all been there. It’s just a matter of keepin’ her goin’ till she’s got something to hope for again.”

 “Hm…” Tilly looks on at the group of women, (y/n) hasn’t lifted her head up once. Now curled up into a ball, attempting to shrink away from everything and everyone. “I suppose we just let her feel this way till she don’t feel it no more.” Tilly begins to walk away muttering one last remark under her breath that Arthur almost doesn’t hear. “I just hope it’s while she’s still alive…”

 The thought disturbs him more than it should. After all, he’s seen and even been the cause of death in many forms. But this leaves him with a sickness in his stomach.

 “It’s a sad sight.” Miss Grimshaw appears at his side, shaking her head and a look of pity on her face. Or maybe it’s disappointment. “Life ain’t been kind to us neither. But it’s best to move on quickly lest she wind up dead. Or worse. Stuck in this stupor for the rest of her miserable life.”

 Her words can be harsh at times, but Arthur’s knows she cares. Cares more than she would like to let on. “Well, she’s done a wonder at holding her own despite her circumstances.”

 “Hm, yes that reminds me.” Grimshaw lowers her voice a bit, “Dutch has been quite hesitant to include her in our dealings. But I simply can’t have her galivanting around camp without contributing to the camp’s funds forever. We ain’t a charity!”  

 In all honesty, Hosea was the one who thought to keep their little stowaway in the dark. At least for the time being.

 “She’s got enough to worry about. We don’t want to go scaring the poor girl.” Hosea had said. Most everyone else agreed.

 “She ain’t got family or kin, got no money, no trade, no skills. We don’t even know her surname.” Grimshaw huffs. “For all we know she plopped right out of the sky.”

 “Just… give her some time, ok?” Arthur gives her a pleading look. “And if you’re so worried about money, I’ll be sure to bring in some more.” Grimshaw’s once cold and stern face falls into one much softer.

 “No no, we’ve been quite alright money wise.” She’s quick to reassure Arthur. “She’s been a diligent student… and never shirks her work.” She lets out a huff and with it she lets go of some pride. “You be well Mr. Morgan.” She leaves just as quickly as she appeared.

 Tilly seems to of succeeded in convincing (y/n) to drink, the cup now in her hands and head held up for him to see her in all her woeful glory. Eyes puffy and swollen. Remnants of her tears clinging to her lashes and a distant look in her eyes. Looking right past him, as if he wasn’t even there.

 He watches for a moment longer, staring directly into those sad hollow eyes. And he wonders what lies behind those eyes.

[brittlebonesguy]

alright time for season 9

oh boy another men v women season. the sexism isnt as upfront immediately like it was last time so thats nice. and that one guy who was like "thank god. its so much easier to trick men im so happy". and then going off about how men are evil and manipulative. damn who hurt you? rory's "walking like a bunch of ladies" i have my eye on you sir. taken reasonable breaks eliza? i have not even seen you near the shelter once. chris is such a man hater lol. i hope he keeps this up. actually if chad were to win its because it's not an idiot and not because of his prosthetic. first immunity challenge and once again these men just can't get through the balance beam. i dislike brady already. im sorry you guy's didn't appreciate chris's balance joke. cool now we're whipping out the "females" shit. why does jeff always do this? can we not talk about the women like they are a commodity? thank you for the bare minimum bubba, i appreciate it. thank god chris didn't go, i need some sort of lifeline.

i hate the intensity in JP's eyes. piercing into me, i fear they will haunt my sleep. and the way he talks? serial killer. and that guy was lying to JP about his....."good looks". sarge defending the ladies with their wni against rory, thank you sir. it's always an age divide, every season. the men did so much better this season than the last one. they only lost 2 challenges instead of 7 consecutive.

twyla is....a lot. "barbie's gone" i'll rip your face off, once i remember your name (is it sarge?). i have confirmed it is sarge and i rescind my earlier thank you. eliza....eliza please he said he had all the info he needed to know please stop talking. the way jp spelled rory.....oh no hes so stupid. (royry). thank god JP got voted off i wouldn't be able to stand him for too much longer. oh here we go with the "i just never got along with women" bullshit from twila. and her pushing back on very reasonable statements. really want her to go honestly. judging women for being "feminine" is just so low. yeah yeah we get it you're a tomboy *eye roll*. scout's on my shit list as well now with that "good luck with finding a husband who will put up with you" comment at mia. and now she's leaving? BOOOOOOO

it's about time the fatphobia came out john i was waiting for your shitty side to show. idk why the men always fall apart during puzzles. it's not that serious guys. now the real question men, could rory not figuring out the puzzle or did you guys not even let him try? now i don't like rory or brody (if that's his name)(edit: it wasn't it was brady) but i would love it if sarge left. i'm glad brady left though because i kept confusing him with that john guy. oh they ditched the men vs women pretty quick. idk it feels like a favoring for the guys by dropping it considering jeff was concerned that they were all playing an individual game so early on (as he said during tribal). just thinking....

twila is so irritating. not sure why ami thinks annoying the four women on her tribe will encourage them to continue with their 5 alliance. its just a coconut, i promise. oh bubba was stupid with that "chris think about the merge", hes for sure going home next. and him having to play the macho man and carrying the entire gate by him self. so far i'm really hating bubba, eliza, and twilia the most. and sarge when I can remember him. and bubba lying through his teeth about his "mouthing and hand signaling" like dude we all heard you said "chris think about the merge" out loud in front of everybody. yeah i also almost drowned as a kid bubba, i don't give a shit about the sob story and i swear if it works.... bye bubba i won't miss you!

sarge tripping over himself to assure us that he's better than women and he doesn't NEED them around camp he just LIKES them around camp....shut up. eliza is so useless its crazy. i hate twila's "those prisy girls didn't want to get their fingernails dirty" like fuck off, also the only one who didn't try was eliza. sarge what the hell is going on? i can't figure out his feelings towards twila but please keep them to yourself. honestly i'm glad lisa went. I'm so glad scouts gay! makes me like her more.

"I've been a threat since day 1" john they hate you what are you talking about? so happy yasur won immunity because I like this tribe right now. jokes on me I no longer like them. and I'm back at hating rory 🥰. I know if I went on survivor I too would have a temper but it really isn't fun to watch with him. unlike sandra <3. this might come back to bite me almost immediately but I'm liking twila more now. rory is officially annoying again and I hate his guts. and now ami is getting targeted because she wants the woman to stay together. 🙄 hope she wins! the men can all honestly fuck off. also is this the season of gaslighting or something? because why are we acting like Bubba didn't say all that merge shit at full volume? see I know ami is gonna go because she wants a woman's alliance too much and apparently people canr handle that. so sarge is allowed to rule over the men ans that's fine, we're allowed to pick off the women one by one and that's fine, but the moment it's reversed?

these men are so dramatic 🙄. rory with his "no one has endured more than me on this island" and "im the victim of a gender war right now" be fucking serious!!!!! and then chad and chris talking shit at the camp like twila and julie don't know they are at the end of the pecking order with both groups? they have a better shot eith the women than the men because NONE of the remaining 3 men are bringing a woman into final 2 obviously. they're such fucking children and I hope they all burn 🫶🏻 "it must be a woman thing" 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄hate you Chris and sarge! the men are so stupid. the woman are already considering sending eliza home but they're sitting here like "WE'VE got to convince them" why the FUCK is twila so content to be in 4thnplace amongst the men. THAT MEANS YOULL LOSE TWILA! like a number 4 spot isn't good why are we acting like it is??? you want 1st or 2nd in this game. okay sorry I jumped the gun on that, she did not in fact do that. oddly enough I actually do like twila and eliza and that's really it for this season. fuck off sarge! won't miss you.

love that chris is just jumping right into stirring the pot now that he's the only man left. TWO LESBIANS IN ONE SEASON?? this is such a win, love you scout and ami <3. I knew I liked ami outside of the game for a reason. so annoying that chris is acting like the wishy washy shit at the end of the game is a woman thing as if plans dont change all the time with EVERYONE in survivor. really happy eliza jumped ship because it's not fair that they kept trying to vite her out. eliza won the car....now she's completely lost her chance to win this game smh. but ami is still in the running! nvm :( she got voted off.

I'm getting real nervous that chris is gonna win this season. fuck OFF I really hate that chris voted off julie, I do. stupid move that somehow is still gonna work out for him. BOOO 🍅🍅 not loving this final three...... eliza please live through this tribal, you're my only hope. I'm swung back to twila is okay I guess? chris is burning so many bridges by voted out every woman who thought they had an alliance, dumb moves honestly. I just dont want chris go win because that man is so annoying. praying for your win twila! love how if the woman vote for twila it would be "out of spite", fuck off tool bag! and yeah the woman's alliance did in fact work asshole, do you see how many woman are in the jury? I can't stand this fucking guy. he talks like a politician 🙄🙄🙄 I just respect twila so much more honestly. sarge just.lying that he was gonna vote for twila? eliza.....why?

oh how I've missed this long winded unnecessary jeff getting back to America sequences bsjabaka. I hate that chris wins, I really really do fuck that guy.

5.9/10 season

[animasolaoriginal]

(7) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 7: The Dimple

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 4.2k -- READ ON AO3

when temptations present themselves

Chapter 6 -- Chapter 8

7

What now? he wonders, as he leans against the wall next to the door, his eyes wandering along the trees surrounding the cabin. Nebbia's tucked into the blanket, sleeping soundly. Thunder stands quietly in the night, occasionally huffing a deep breath. And Ben is caught in his own mind, unable to find peace.

He hasn't really planned this through, like so many things in his life so far. The last unplanned thing (“I'm gonna take you with me!”) has brought him right here, on the run from the people he stole this girl from. Damn Daniels. He's had run-ins with that family too many times to count at this point, and every time he slipped out of their grip, he thought it'd be the last time.

They are far more spread than he has thought. Owning the same fucking brothel he's decided to frequent after his own gang's successful stage coach heist. He's been so stupid. He should have known their influence would surpass state lines.

But would he have left Nebbia there if he'd known it beforehand? No. Definitely not. Whatever the circumstances, they would have always ended up here, or at least together, in safety, more or less. He's still stupid, running off with her like this. Without telling anyone. He's been with those people for a long time, especially Mitch and Ginny, and to leave, without a warning, is without a doubt a good addition to his list of Reasons Why He's Stupid.

He hopes they're all okay, that the Daniels didn't ambush them after all. Sending two scouts to their camp was a bold move, and seeing Joe sleeping by the gate when he should have been keeping watch was just another little itch he just can't scratch. A strange coincidence.

There have been a lot of strange coincidences actually, in these last two nights. From finding her in that room, from convincing her to come with him (and her actually coming along without any hesitation), from finding out who he's taken her from, to breaking Bill's nose on a whim (now it feels like it, in the moment it was all justified), to leaving Nebbia alone for five minutes... He's sure by now that it was Bill who assaulted her, getting his revenge, trying to at least.

He still wonders what he should do to that bastard. There are too many ideas in his head, one more gruesome than the next. But he can't focus on that now. They've left the camp, and he has no idea when they'll return, if they'll return. But where else should they go?

Sighing deeply he pushes off the wall and walks back into the cabin, trying to be quiet as he approaches the girl curled up under the blanket. Her long hair has fallen over her face again, and she's so small, just a ball of limbs, and he's still amazed how that can be a comfortable position to sleep. Slowly he kneels down beside her, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of silky soft hair behind her ear. She stirs slightly, but doesn't wake.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back on his knees, watching her.

There's still one very loud thought inside his head, one that's even overpowering the urges to grab her and kiss her and do other deranged things to her. One that scares him the most. That fucking dimple.

Without looking away from her sleeping form, he fingers the Wanted poster out of his chest pocket, slowly unfolds it, before he looks down at it in the semi-darkness of the room. Morning is right around the corner, the moon glowing to keep the upper hand, and there's enough light for him to see the face looking up at him from the crinkled paper.

Keira.

That he would find her daughter, the spitting image of her, in a brothel of all places, is like a stab in the back. He would never have thought that Keira, his first love, his partner in crime, would be capable of doing that, leaving her there, to her own devices, to a life full of degradation. Was she forced to leave? Bribed away? Blackmailed away? But why did she never come back to get her?

He would have tried anything to get her back if she'd been his daughter. The thought makes him pause. His daughter. The words have a strange ring to them. They crawl right beneath his skin, letting goosebumps ripple along his spine, like ants running up and down his limbs. She can't be, right? It's been longer than eighteen years (and nine months) since he last saw Keira, right? It has to be!

She left him in that cell and vanished. Never to be seen again. Did she really end up working in a brothel, got knocked up by a random stranger and left right after giving birth – or did Madam Claire lie to Nebbia? The leaving part sounds like her, but working as a prostitute? She'd always had a high libido, but would she actually make men pay for her? Maybe the thought isn't as absurd after all. She'd do almost anything for money.

And she needed the money to leave the country. She'd told him very early on. To get to Europe. See Italy. Did she make it? Was she on the other side of the pond while her daughter had to endure a life of servitude?

Keira had been opportunistic, but not that selfish.

Ben tilts his head as he folds the poster back together and slips it into his pocket, watching the bundle in front of him. How can she even breathe curled up like that? He's tempted to lie down behind her and pull her against his chest, hold her close, curl his body around hers, feel her soft breaths... Fuck. He's doing it again. And the thought is back. He leans in with a sigh and traces his fingertip over her cheek, just the right one, where he's seen it. That fucking dimple.

Many people have dimples, it's not that uncommon, or so he tries to tell himself. But what are the odds of his ex-lover's daughter having the same fucking dimple as him? What are the odds that it was him who found her, who saved her, who she feels safe with?

They have a strange connection, a chemistry he's never experienced before, not even with Keira. Nebbia trusts him, just like that, almost unconditionally, despite everything she knows about him (which isn't even much, but enough that she should want to stay away from him, which she doesn't). How easy it is for her to touch him, to be close to him, how comfortable she is around him, not even ashamed to be naked.

But he can't be her father, he just can't, it doesn't add up. Right? Many men have dimples. And he feels close to her because she looks like Keira. Nothing more. And he wouldn't be thinking all these dirty things about her if he were, would he? Or is he just that fucked-up after all?

He lets out a groan and leans back on his arms, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his eyes glued to the girl on the floor. She stirs again, squirming under the blanket. A little whimper escapes her, causing him to shiver. Maybe she's dreaming. Though it does sound more like a nightmare... And of course it would be, the universe doesn't seem to give this girl a break.

For a moment he just watches her, when more and more whimpers and little gasps fall from her lips, but then he's had enough and leans in, slipping his hands under her coiled up body and pulls her closer, until she's curled up in his lap, head resting on his thigh. He crosses his legs and cages her in, holding her close, giving her the warmth and comfort she needs. She relaxes slowly, her breaths calming down, the whimpers turning into quiet mewls, then peaceful, deep breaths.

His fingers slip into her soft hair, down her neck, over the curve of her spine to the swell of her hip where he rests his hand, warm and comforting against the many layers she's wrapped in, showing her he's here. And isn't that what matters in the end, no matter who he is to her? As long as he's here for her?

He'll focus on that. No longer looking back, remembering a woman he hasn't seen in almost two decades. Keira is gone, wherever she may be. But Nebbia is right here, in his embrace. And he'll give the choice to her. If she wants to be close to him, he will let her, and he won't feel bad about wanting the same thing. And if she doesn't, he'll live with it, watching her from afar, imagining the things she's too shy and innocent to admit to.

And no fucking dimple will ever change that.

He fell asleep somehow, and now he's sprawled out on his back while the girl is still curled up between his legs, warm and comforting against him. And of course he's hard because of it. Stirring slightly, he stares up at the ceiling of the cabin, blinking that last dream away, while the dazzling sunlight floods the dusty place, burning away all shadows, all doubts, all deranged thoughts.

Groaning, he wipes at his face, pushes a hand through his messy hair, rolls his stiff neck. He doesn't feel rested, but it doesn't matter. It never does, at least he woke up to a new morning, to –

A sudden jolt rushes through his spine, a warm touch to a sensitive place, and he's quick to sit up on his elbows and looks down, seeing a small hand rubbing along the length of his cock over the fabric of his jeans. “What are you doing?” he grunts out, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

Green eyes meet his, the bundle of blankets, hair and limbs stirring between his legs. Her cheek rests on his thigh while her hand still works on what lies heavy on the other. “You've been so tense,” she whispers, her voice like a hum in the air, sweet like honey, words full of temptation.

“You... don't have to...” he groans as she keeps palming him, expertly he wants to say, but the revelation of that sits thick in his throat.

“I want to,” she replies quietly, as her fingertips trail the outline of the bulge in his pants, curious fingers pressing down with the same little strength as her palm. Moving up and down, teasing the base, poking at the tip. Not even the thick fabric of his jeans can dampen the sensations of her ministrations.

He shivers, swallows hard. “Don't,” he tries again, tempted to grab her wrist and pull her hand away. But he's also tempted to undo his belt, open his buttons, free his erection, and let her work. He's conflicted, so he does nothing but lie back down, crosses his arms behind his head, closes his eyes, leans into her touches.

She shifts between his legs, her free hand resting on his other thigh as she sits up, then it moves to the waistband of his pants, and he sees her doing what he has wanted her to do without even looking down. It's all there behind his eyelids, a fantasy he's had since he first met her.

Her full lips strained around his cock. Flushed cheeks hollowing, a tongue pressing warm and wet against the underside, a deep suck, saliva coating his skin, her big eyes on him as she takes him deeper, deeper, into her little throat until there are tears streaming down her face, and he feels her tightness, he –

He sits up with a grunt and grabs her hand before it can finish unbuttoning his jeans. She yelps at the harsh grip, and he lets go immediately, cursing under his breath. Without looking at her, he scrambles to his feet, breathing heavily, his heart thundering inside his chest. He can't. He shouldn't.

Adjusting himself as he walks, he buckles his belt again, steps out of the stuffy cabin into the bright sunlight, hoping it'll burn away his thoughts. There are shuffling footsteps behind him, then a small, timid hand on his back. He flinches, but doesn't turn around. He hears a little sound akin to a sob, braces himself, and then her arms snake around his stomach from behind as she throws herself against him, a shuddering little thing clinging to him with her face pressing into the curve of his back.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers into him, the hum vibrating through his tense body. He inhales deeply, then puts his hands on her arms, gently rubbing them, while her small body tries to crawl closer to his.

For a moment he just stands there, listening to her shaky breaths, but then it's getting too much, and he carefully pries her hands away from his stomach and turns around, looks down at the girl still wrapped in the blanket, meeting her large innocent green eyes. He crouches down in front of her and holds her hands in his, cradling them gently as he looks up at her.

“I should be sorry,” he says hoarsely. “And I am, I didn't mean to be that harsh...”

She shakes her head, a few wavy strands of hair flying about as she does. “You said no, I should have stopped...” she whispers, biting her lip.

His hands move up to cup her face, so small between his large palms, frail and innocent. He scoots a little closer, leans up on his knees to meet her eye level, holding her gaze. His thumbs caress the corners of her mouth. “Nebbia,” he starts, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions inside his heart, trying to convey his conflicts to her, “I –”

She interrupts him by putting her own small hands on his bearded cheeks, so small, so fragile, her touch warm but surprisingly strong, confident, wanting. Her breath ghosts his dry lips. She leans closer, tilting her head, moving in, eyes half-lidded, fingertips grazing his ears, slipping into his hair, thumbs scraping over his beard.

He's frozen in place, just looking at her, waiting, wanting, but also not, and when her little nose brushes against his, he stiffens even more, holding her face tightly, almost too tightly, but she keeps going, inch by inch she comes closer, and then –

It's him who closes the distance. A little tug of his hands, a little jerk of his chin towards her, and his lips collide with hers, a desperate smack that makes her gasp, that makes his heart flutter and his stomach churn. One hand on her jaw, thumb on her chin, the other slipping to the back of her neck, both of them guiding her into the kiss. The fire within roars to life.

He can't stop himself anymore, he moves his lips against hers, slowly at first, carefully, still waiting for her to mirror his movements, and when she finally does, when there's the tiniest pressure back, he groans against her, kissing her firmer, more demanding, his hand splayed over the back of her head, holding her, pushing her closer.

Her fingers sink to his neck, holding onto his shoulders as she staggers slightly against him, heavy little puffs of air coming from her as his lips press against...close around...nibble on hers, and oh, that sharp little inhale when the tip of his tongue moves against her bottom lip, licks along it, using the little gasp to move between her now parted lips.

But before he can push it in further, taste her fully, feel her own pressing back at him, he lets out a grunt and leans back abruptly before he rests his forehead heavy on her shoulder, his hands moving along her body as he wraps his arms around her, holding her in his tight embrace, feeling her shivers and shudders. Her small, frail body, overwhelmed by his urges...

“Ben?” she whispers, her hands coming up to rub at his back, teasing his nape.

He huffs another grunt, inhaling deeply, feeling his lips tingling, warm and wet and almost a little swollen. And he imagines how hers must look, probably even redder, maybe a little irritated from his beard scraping over sensitive skin. Her eyes wide, glistening, not understanding a thing, not seeing his turmoil.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he barks a quiet laugh into her collarbone, growling in response. He inhales deeply, taking in her sweet scent, sleep still hanging over her, warm and comforting, filling his lungs.

“M'sorry, baby,” he mutters, slowly leaning back, loosening his grip around her.

When he looks at her, her eyes are narrowed in confusion, a little tilt to her head, and her lips, full lips, are indeed very red and slightly trembling. He leans back on his knees and raises a hand to cup her face, wipe his thumb over her bottom lip.

“I can't do this,” he whispers, staring at her mouth.

“Can't do what?” she replies in a breathy puff of air, almost sounding a little pouty. “What are you so afraid of?” she adds, voice shaking slightly.

He looks up then, meeting her hard gaze (as hard as a cute little girl can look, it's even more adorable that she's trying to appear tough, fighting her own emotions). His finger traces her cheek, rough fingertip scraping over soft skin. He watches her, memorizes the details of her face with his eyes, ignores her question. “Smile for me,” he whispers, leaning a little closer again.

She frowns, straining her features into the exact opposite direction. “What?”

“Smile for me,” he repeats with a soft smile of his own. She stares at him, blinks, but the corners of her mouth twitch, even more so when his smile widens, and she mimics it, and there it is.

He moves quickly, one hand on her nape as he guides her head towards him, then presses his lips to her cheek, parts them, lets the tip of his tongue dip into that barely there indent. He can feel it, taste her skin, the fucking dimple.

Breathing heavily against her, he closes his eyes, can't look at it. Can't look at her. His hands leave her body completely, resting on his thighs as he sits back on his knees in front of her, shaking his head in defeat.

The clap of her palms against his cheeks is loud as she cups his face with force. His eyes fly open, meeting hers. “What's wrong with you?” she whispers, sounding more confused than angry as she stares down at him.

Her words cut deep, but for a different reason than she intended. Yes, what is wrong with him... thinking these things about her... about his –

“Come on, Ben, talk to me! Why are you acting so strange?” she urges, holding his large head with her tiny hands.

“We have the same dimple,” he then confesses, letting it out, revealing the turmoil.

She looks even more confused. “What? Huh?” Her lips quiver as she opens her mouth and closes it again repeatedly, her eyes narrowed, a deep crease between her eyebrows. “So?”

He inhales deeply, then sighs. “I... I'm afraid I could be... your...” He can't say it, his voice strained, rough, a low tremble in his throat.

“What?” she breathes in exasperation.

“Father,” he finally says, quietly, a word like a ton of bricks burying him alive.

The tension in her face relaxes, turns into wide eyes, eyebrows moving up towards her hairline, lips parting into a silent O. A deep red blush creeps up her pale cheeks. He sees the cogs working inside her brain as she stares at him, the grip of her hands around his face loosening.

He just watches her, face tense under her soft palms, lips pressed into a thin line. She's slipping away, he can feel it, appalled, disturbed, irritated, angry? Disappointed? Her eyes move over his face, a frantic little twitch of green orbs moving back and forth, as she processes what he said. Her hands land on his shoulders, a barely there pressure.

But then she raises one again, extends a finger, traces his cheek, scrapes it over his beard, looking for the dimple that is hidden in the tension of his face. She finds it nevertheless, the little bit of skin barely visible between the thickness of his facial hair. Her eyes move back to his.

“So we have the same dimple,” she whispers, shrugging slightly. “So what? Is that all it takes to confirm that you're my... my... that I'm your...”

She can't say it either, apparently, and he sees the conflict in her gaze, the same as his. They seem clearly attracted to each other, their chemistry is there, the connection, a mirror image of his own desires, albeit probably less graphic. And yet –

“I've been with your mother, about twenty years ago, maybe a little less, I can't remember to be perfectly honest,” he says quietly. “It's possible...”

She shakes her head, slowly at first, then more agitated. “No!” she exclaims, her hands back on his face as she leans closer. He stays still, immobile, stiff, forcing himself not to give in to the temptations. “Madam Claire said –”

“What if she lied? What if your mother came to them already pregnant?” he whispers.

She keeps shaking her head, and he sees her eyes glistening slightly. Her breaths are frantic little huffs. “No,” she says again, barely audible. Her jaw clenches, her eyebrows furrow, she looks as if she's about to cry, and it's killing him.

“Baby,” he breathes, his hands itching to reach up and comfort her.

She swallows. “Do you... want to be my... father?” she then asks, blinking away the first tear.

His answer comes quick, almost harshly so. “No,” he says, seeing her flinch. “I want to be there for you, I want to protect you, but I also want to –” He inhales deeply, slowly moving up on his knees, getting closer, his hand finding its way to her waist. “Kiss you... and... touch you...”

She licks her lips, watching him, inching closer, meeting his motion. “Then... you're not... n-not my f-father,” she stammers, her lips quivering. “There's no proof... it doesn't m-matter...” Her thumbs wipe over the corners of his mouth, her eyes pleading.

He looks at her, his fingers digging gently into her skin. His other hand moves around her, up her back, to her nape, a gentle pressure as he pulls her even closer. “Nebbia...”

“It doesn't matter, Ben,” she whispers, her eyes boring into his.

And then she moves in, and her trembling lips meet his. Her kiss is shaky, uncertain, inexperienced. He lets her, just stays still, holds her. She moves her lips over his, purses them slightly, presses them to the corner of his mouth, to his upper lip, his bottom lip, a shiver running through her small frame. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't close them.

After a moment she leans back just enough that there's about an inch between them. Her warm breath ghosts his skin, her hands a little clammy against his cheeks. The tiniest sob escapes her, but he catches it before it can grow, before it gets worse. Catches it with his mouth. She gasps, but immediately kisses him back as he moves his lips against hers, even opens her mouth for him, darts her tongue out, meets his, lets them move against each other slowly, wet and warm and comforting.

Her taste is overwhelming.

He groans, she hums, his hand firmly on her neck, her fingers digging into his hair, gripping it as the kiss deepens. The hand on her waist drags her towards him, and she stumbles slightly until she's suddenly sitting on his thighs, straddling him, the blanket finally falling off her shoulders. He wraps an arm around her, pulls her close, leans back on his knees, gives her space that she immediately fills, while their tongues still wrestle, their lips still slide against each other, their noises a soft hum in the atmosphere, drowning out any doubts.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't...

Doesn't matter.

She is panting against him, her hands gripping his hair while he holds her, arms crossed over her back, fingers curling around her sides, her small body pressed against him, so close, so warm, squirming on his lap, rubbing against him. He groans into her mouth as his stomach tightens. Her needy little whimpers like music in his ears. She is obviously breathless, her lungs probably burning, but she doesn't stop, doesn't give her tongue or lips a break, as if she needs him more than air – and just as much as he needs her.

He takes the choice from her by turning his head slightly, inhaling deeply, and her lips keep moving over his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck, her little tongue sliding over his pulse causing him to shiver. She's insatiable, but he holds her close, moves one hand into her hair, stilling her against the crook of his neck, forcing her to breathe. Her chest rises and falls against his rapidly, her heart hammering against her ribs, vibrating through him as he presses his thumb against her jugular.

For a long moment they're just sitting like this, holding onto each other, savoring the aftermath of their kiss, each of them stewing in their own thoughts, if they are any due to lack of oxygen. His own are a low, nagging rumble in the back of his mind, and he tries his best to ignore them and to focus on the girl on his lap instead. She squirms slightly, the pressure of her pelvis against his groin sending little sparks through his nerves.

He noses at her hair, taking in her scent, hoping to drown in it. In his mind he is back at the brothel, cornering the lady of the house, forcing her to give him proof. It doesn't matter. But he needs proof. She could hold the answer, and even if it would confirm his suspicions, it wouldn't change anything. It doesn't matter. But he would know.

He needs to know.

Chapter 6 -- Chapter 8

End notes: I don't know about you, but I loved (writing) this chapter! So much drama, passion, angst and fluff and ahhh so good! Take this, slow burn! We've got contact! And a revelation that might bit a little off-putting for some... BUT before you leave because ew incest, hear me out: without spoiling anything: IF this becomes a reality or not (you'll have to stick with me here to find out, sorry), remember this is a piece of fiction! Just two people with a connection. A fluffy little love story (with eventual smut, just putting it out there). (Also historically speaking, well, the west was wild, right?)

I really hope you're more intrigued than you are appalled, because we're just getting started here! The drama continues! Please stay tuned!

Credits to the respective owners of those pictures. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around tumblr. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[orphanedshadow]

continued from (x) with @graunblida

While Kara regaled the commander in details regarding her parents, Leksa couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever come across them before. There were many people in the coaltion, and so it was impossible for her to have met each and every one of them personally. But if the little girl’s mother had been a warrior, there was a good chance their paths might have crossed at some point. For now she would listen, as asking too many questions so soon might cause the young one further stress. Her heart ached for Kara, and it made her think of all the nightbloods who had been taken from their families. If only misfortunate hadn’t fallen on Kara and her mother and father, they might still be together – living cautiously and in secret perhaps, but being TOGETHER nonetheless. It wasn’t fair. This was not the life a child should live. In fear, and alone. Leksa wielded great power, but when it came to their ways and tradition, would she be able to dissuade the religious leaders and those who clung to the old ways? This was not something she could solve overnight, especially by herself.  “ Your father was very smart and resourceful. ” He had to be if he could affectively teach his child how to carry on without either of them. “ I’m sure he was trying to protect you by prioritizing survival, rather than sharing about himself. ” It was still sad that this little girl would only have so many memories of him to cling too. There was certainly so much more to him that she may never discover. Leksa could say the same about her own family. She and even her sister, never got to truly know them. They learned what they could from older members of Trikru who had grown up with their parents.  The girl’s next question caught the commander off guard and there was a silent pause between them while she thought. “ I like to think that they were. ” Leksa finally said, voice low. “ Because they did not give me up willingly. ”Titus only disclosed so much about that era of her life, but others had confirmed her parents did not see eye to eye with the flamekeepers and the scouts. She knew in her heart they would have done anything to keep her and Tris safe. “ Strikon, you cannot blame yourself. Life often grants us that which we have no control over. “ Leksa reached out to place a gentle hand on the little girl’s shoulder. She was so young and had already seen such brutal parts of the world. “ We honor their memory by continuing on. Their spirits can rest easy knowing you will make them proud. ” Not long after, the commander called for their company to halt. Darkness would soon be upon them, and it would be in their best interested to set up camp for the night.  “ Here, this will keep you nice and warm. ” Leksa prepared a cozy space for Kara to sleep inside their tent. They always carried extra blankets and bedrolls whenever they embarked on long journeys across the coalition. 

“Father said surviving made him proud, would make mother proud too. But is not enough, is it? Have to do more, want to do more.” She wanted them to have a reason to be proud, one that wasn’t just that she’d managed not to die. There had to be more than that, things that Leksa could show her, lessons the warrior could teach.

Physically she was tired, the child was not entirely used to this much walking, so she was extremely happy when they stopped to set up camp; however, she did kind of miss the privacy of walking, the way the guards weren’t so close. Mealtime was different, and it made her uncomfortable.

But once they were mostly alone she could once more relax, cleaning up whatever little scrapes had happened during their travels. Cloth was wrapped around scabs and cuts, black blood hidden by bandages stained “blood” red with berry juice.

After making sure her father’s skull was safe Kara soon found herself gravitating towards the warrior, looking to Leska for companionship and comfort. Even though she wasn’t entirely sure how she should behave Kara did decide to ask for one of the things she missed the most since her father’s death.

“Story?” Her writing was a little tentative, but the child was hopeful, wanting to learn more about the commander… or maybe about the world that she had finally stepped into.

[na-ta-sh-aa]

I think I've run out of adjectives I know to describe the beauty of this chapter. This was too wonderful, I loved it from start to finish. I liked how the relationship between her and Jake strengthened a lot in this chapter and how they started talking about more personal things too.

“Jake was the last to move for the door, and you quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him back. He turned to stare at you, surprise turning into a question.”

Ahhh, I liked the way Jake reacted in surprise when she took his hand. Just like I loved the way he cared not so much about what Cyclone could do to him but what he could do to her.

“Now we just need to find someone to go with you.” “I’ll do it.”

Oooh Jake immediately seized the opportunity presented to him!

“But you knew that Jake could be trusted. He had shown you the kind of man he was capable of being, and you trusted him enough by this point to know you would be safe.”

I love that she feels safe with him and finally has more trust around him. And I find it very beautiful that she got to know a version of Jake that she had never seen before.

“You kept it?”“Of course I kept it,”

Jake was surprised that she kept the horse carved, so sweet🥹

“The two of you camped out under the stars of the wilderness, Jake making sure you were plenty warm and comfortable in the back of the cart before settling down on the blanket he would set by the fire.”

I've said it before but I'll say it again, he is a true gentleman and the way he treats her, respects her and cares for her shows it, and I’m madly in love with it!💞

“Honey girl, I already have to sit next to you during the day. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself if I didn’t have this time to cool down.”

🫠🫠

“We’re not goin’ to leave a friend to walk through hell alone,”“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.”

Learning more about Jake's story was really beautiful and interesting. Knowing how he tries to help his sister and nephew in every way and how he didn't leave Bradley alone warmed my heart. He's a really good man. Even if at first sight others fear him or have bad opinions of him, you just need to get to know him better to find out what kind of man he is.

“I’m fairly certain that couple thinks we’re married,” “Would that be so bad?”

I literally screamed!

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The fact that he was so tired in the morning as if he hadn't slept makes me think of Jake tossing and turning in bed thinking about marriage.

“Not really. Never thought I’d like anyone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with them. Used to laugh at the idea of ever finding someone who could make me want to settle down.”

Until now! I bet he thought about it all night.

“Your blood boiled when she batted her eyes at him with a coy smile.”

Ahh jealous Scout!

“Ticket says this is my cabin too.”

Ooh I love and live for these kind of unexpected events!

“Only of something happening to you, sweet girl.”

Jake😭

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, hand skimming the ends of your nightdress. “Tell me to stop, and I swear I will, y/n.”“Don’t stop,”

Okay, but this scene was really hot. The intensity, the tension, their chemistry was something spectacular and made the scene so real. And his dirty talk all the time? ooh Jake knew exactly what he was doing, lucky Scout!

“Look at me, sugar. Wanna see your face as you fall apart for me. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you so full. Gonna keep you all nice and round while I take care of you. Gonna take care of my gorgeous, little wifey.”

“his hips stuttering against the mattress as he let out a whimper into your core. You ground your hips down into him as you rode out your high, and Jake grunted as his hips stilled, shaking with the strain.”

Omg🫠🫠

I love their relationship so much. I am too happy that they have become closer and known more intimately, in every sense! These two have really entered my heart, I love their story madly! I thank the day I discovered your blog because all your works are masterpieces and I can't do without them anymore!💌✨

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Six

Don't Hange'm Til Noon: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (oral, f receiving), Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 6.4k (I'm so sorry, oh my god)

A/N: I have no words for this one. I warned y'all the train scene was gonna be something else. Also, shoutout to @im-just-ken for taking the time to do research for me and putting up with informing me about all of the different aspects of the Victorian Age!! You're the best!! As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist

The sky was overcast and the distant rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. Autumn was beginning to give way to winter, and a new routine had settled in over the ranch in the three weeks since Jake had started working there.

“What are you doing here?” you had asked him with wide eyes. His smirk had widened at your flustered appearance. Your mind raced back to the events of the night before and you gave your tomatoes a run for their money with how red your cheeks must have been.

“Didn’t your brother tell you?” Jake asked, quirking an eyebrow at your brother. “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” you gaped, glancing wildly back and forth between the two men. “Since when?”

“As of yesterday afternoon,” Benjamin sighed, casting you a sideways glance.

“But, why?”

“You made it pretty clear yesterday morning that you were only interested in men who work for a living,” he explained, cocking his head to the side with a bemused look in your direction.

“I didn’t mean here!” you spluttered.

“Well, Benji here was kind enough to offer me a job,” Jake nodded at the other man. “Isn’t that right, Benjamin?”

Benjamin let out a sigh that sounded something akin to “lovesick fools” as he turned to stalk off towards the barn. You stared after him helplessly before Jake cleared his throat, gaining your attention. His smirk was gone, replaced by a much more serious look as he gazed at you.

“I’m not going to cause any trouble,” he stated, shaking his head when you gave him a dubious look. “I mean it. I’m here to work and earn my livin’ like a man should. I give you my word.”

You studied him for a moment. His green eyes held a look of sincerity and a desperation for you to believe him. You sighed. “Alright, Jake. I’m taking you at your word.”

“Excellent,” he beamed down at you before giving you a stern look. “Now go on and get now. I’m tryin’ to work and you’re distracting me.”

You chuckled lightly, giving him a small smile. Jake’s stern expression dropped, a look of wonder replacing it as he stared at you. A moment passed before he broke out in a grin and turned his attention back towards the fence.

Now, an air of easiness had settled between the two of you as life on the ranch continued. Jake worked hard, and he never complained about what was asked of him, even going above and beyond on a couple of occasions. You had even found him napping in the barn one day after a night where the coyotes had been particularly active, and you had allowed the poor man to catch up on his rest in thanks.

You were on your knees in the garden, digging up the onions you had planted a while ago, when you heard the sound of a horse making its way up the path to your home. Looking up, you saw U.S. Marshal Simpson making his way to you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, stumbling to your feet despite the numbness that had paralyzed your limbs from sitting on them for too long. Beau Simpson smiled at you as he dismounted, walking over to meet you by the fence to your garden.

“Marshal Simpson,” you greeted politely.

“Afternoon, Scout,” he said. “Please, call my Beau.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was hopin’ you could help me out with something.”

“And what is that?”

He looked out to the empty pasture before glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Was hoping you could tell me where I might find Jake Seresin.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he was probably out with the others, moving the cattle in from the far pasture, but you weren’t about to tell Beau Simpson that.

“And why would you think that, Beau?”

He fixed you with a look that said he knew you knew why he’d think that, but he played along. “Well, amongst other things, I heard he managed to get himself a job here against your brother’s better judgement.”

“You shouldn’t gossip, Beau. It’s the Devil’s pastime.”

He let out a laugh at that one. “Well, from what I hear, it’s hardly gossip, Scout, but alright. You seen him around?”

“Can’t say that I have,” you responded cooly, picking at the dirt underneath your fingernails. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. You had told him the truth, you reasoned with yourself. You hadn’t seen Jake that day. Beau was quiet for a moment, studying you thoughtfully before letting out a long sigh.

“You should be careful, Scout,” he began, pushing up off the railing. “It won’t do you any good to get tangled up with someone who’s due a hanging. You might end up caught in the rope yourself, if you aren’t careful.”

You didn’t respond. He tipped his hat to you before moving towards his horse. You watched as he mounted and made his way back towards town. You stared after him long after he disappeared from sight before walking slowly back into the house. You went upstairs to wash the dirt from your face and hands before setting out to make dinner. It was a couple of hours before the four ranch hands made their way through the back door, laughing and smiling the entire way. You scowled at the group of men.

“What do you all think you’re doing?” you snapped. Four pairs of wide, shocked eyes turned to look at you, the laughter and chatter stopping immediately. You glared down at the floor where their boots had left muddy shoe prints on the hardwood. They followed your gaze before slowly looking back up at you with sheepish grins.

“Sorry, Scout,” Levi apologize, already moving back towards the door. “We’ll go get washed up outside.”

The others murmured their agreement and filed out after him. Jake was the last to move for the door, and you quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him back. He turned to stare at you, surprise turning into a question.

“I need to talk to you,” you said. He smiled down at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, honey girl?” he drawled. “What about?”

“Marshal Simpson came by today.”

“Cyclone?” Jake asked, taken aback. “What did he want?”

You dropped his hand, and moved towards the stove where you had left dinner unattended momentarily. “Came by to ask if I had seen you.”

“Oh?” he questioned, leaning up against the wall by the door, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You hummed, nodding.

“Don’t worry, I told him I didn’t know where you were.”

He seemed surprised at that, pushing off from the wall and coming to stand by your side. “What?”

“I told him I hadn’t seen you. It wasn’t a lie, technically,” You rushed out. Jake stared at you incredulously before frowning.

“You’re not telling me something,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. You glanced at him before looking back down at the pot of soup you were stirring. “What else did he say to you?”

You sighed and recounted what Beau had said. Jake swore, turning and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” you offered in a huff. Jake whirled back to look at you, worry lines crinkling his brow.

“Nothing to worry about?” he laughed humorlessly. “Scout, don’t you know a threat when you hear one?”

“I don’t see why he would be threatening me,” you argued, hands on your hips. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve done something or not, sweetheart,” he groaned out. “He knows I work here, and he knows what to go after now.”

“I don’t understand,” you frowned. “You weren’t this worried when I mentioned him before. Why are you now? What changed?”

Jake stared at you for a moment. He moved to say something, but the door swung open as the other ranch hands filed in.

“You better go get washed up quick, Hangman,” Phillip laughed, clapping Jake on the back before taking a seat at the table. “Might not be any food left for you when you get back.”

Jake gave a half-hearted smile to the other man before giving you one last look and walking out the back door.

The next morning, business continued on as usual. You had just hung the laundry out to dry when you heard the front door creak open with a thud as it hit the wall.

“Scout!”

You walked into the parlor where Benjamin stood, grinning wide as he searched for you. His smile grew impossibly wider as his eyes finally landed on you. He raised his hand up to reveal an envelope, and he shook it in excitement.

“Benji, wha-”

“It’s a letter from Aunt Jo!” he cried excitedly. You let out a happy cry of your own as you rushed forward. Your Aunt Josephine had been your mother’s older sister, and you had spent many days running around in her orchard growing up. She was a kind woman, and she had helped to fill the void of your mother’s passing. It had been hard to leave her behind.

“Have you opened it?” You were practically vibrating from excitement. Benjamin shook his head.

“No, I wanted to read it with you.”

“Well, go on!” you laughed, gesturing for him to open it. He did so, eyes scanning the paper quickly.

“She wants us to come for a visit,” he smiled, looking up at you. Your grin matched his own as you hopped excitedly.

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Jake standing in the doorway with an amused glint in his eyes as he watched the two of you giggle like school children. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“Our Aunt Josephine wrote to us,” you explained in a hurry. “She wants us to come visit.”

“Yeah?” Jake grinned at your enthusiasm. “When?”

“Says she wants us to come up for Christmas,” Benjamin frowned, scanning the letter over. Your heart jumped at the idea of seeing a white Christmas again. You thought it was one of the many things you had given up when you moved out west to Maverick. Benjamin lowered the letter with a grim expression. “I can’t go.”

“What?” you cried, looking over at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said slowly, “that I can’t go. There’s too much work to be done here on the ranch, and I can’t take the weeks off from the firm.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly. “Well, we’ll have to write back to Aunt Jo to tell her we’ll come at another time, then.”

“No, Scout,” Benjamin said firmly. “Just because I can’t go, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I know how much you miss it there, and the trip will mean so much more to you than it will me, anyway. No, I insist. You’re going.”

“But, Benji-”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” he said, offering you a smile. “Now we just need to find someone to go with you. Ah, but Hondo and Joel aren’t do back for weeks now. Maybe I could get Tom to-”

“I’ll do it.”

Both of you turned to look at Jake. His eyes darted between the two of you as you gaped at him.

“What?” Benjamin questioned. Jake cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter.

“I’ll go with her,” he said firmly. Your eyes darted to Benjamin who was already looking at you. He cocked his head as if to say that he was okay with it if you were. You bit your lip, mulling your options over. You worried about the implications that might arise at having a man who wasn’t family show up with you in Baltimore. But you knew that Jake could be trusted. He had shown you the kind of man he was capable of being, and you trusted him enough by this point to know you would be safe.

“Yes,” you said finally. “Alright, it’ll be the two of us.”

Two days later you were adding the final items to your bag for your journey. Benjamin had already sent a reply back to your Aunt Josephine explaining the circumstances, but had told her you were eagerly preparing for your trip. You had just placed your last skirt in your bag when something caught your eye. You glanced up to see the wooden horse still standing proudly on your end table. You chewed on your bottom lip, slowly walking over to grab the figurine. You smoothed over the back of it before turning it over in your hand to stare at the initials that were carved into its belly.

“Scout? The cart is ready, and Benjamin wanted me to-”

You looked up to see Jake standing in your doorway. His eyes were focused on the wooden statue in your hand before they slowly traveled up to look into your eyes.

“You kept it?”

“Of course I kept it,” you scowled at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “You were just so mad at me then. I didn’t think you’d care enough to keep it.”

“Well,” you mumbled, trying to come up with something, anything to weasel your way out of the conversation. “I did.”

Jake studied you for a moment before smiling. “You almost done packin’? Your brother’s waiting downstairs to send us off.”

“Yes,” you breathed, thankful for the out he had offered you. “You go on ahead. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

He nodded before turning and walking off. You let out a sigh, looking back down at the wooden horse. You walked back towards the foot of your bed where your bag lay, and gently placed it on top before closing the clutch and heading downstairs.

The first couple of days passed without incident. Benjamin had wished you to a safe and pleasant journey, watching you as Jake drove the cart down the street. The two of you camped out under the stars of the wilderness, Jake making sure you were plenty warm and comfortable in the back of the cart before settling down on the blanket he would set by the fire.

“You don’t have to sleep on the ground,” you told him on the third night. He had looked up to where you hung over the side of the cart to look at him. “There’s more than enough room to fit the both of us comfortably.”

Jake had let out a low laugh before giving you a look that made your core clench. “Honey girl, I already have to sit next to you during the day. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself if I didn’t have this time to cool down.”

You blushed at his words and had quickly rolled over to try and get some sleep.

Jake was a surprisingly good cook, and an even better shot. The two of you survived off the bread and produce you had purchased from the general store as well as the rabbits Jake managed to shoot during your camp-outs. By the fifth day, you had run out of polite conversation topics, and the two of you drifted towards more personal ones.

“Do you have any siblings?” you asked him that afternoon. Jake quirked an eyebrow at you in amusement. “What?”

“You wanna know if I have any siblings?”

“You already know about Benjamin,” you pointed out. “I think it’s only fair if I know about any siblings you have.”

“Alright, Scout,” he hummed with a smile. “If you must know, I have an older sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah,” he smiled. “She’s about two years older than me, and she has a son named Billy who’s a little terror of a kid.”

He smiled down at you, and you returned the gesture. He turned his head back to the road and frowned. “Her husband died just after Billy was born. So, I’ve been tryin’ to help her out where I can. She works in town as a seamstress, but the hours are long, and the pay is shit.”

“What about your parents?” you asked, and he gave you a wry smile.

“They died in the scarlet fever epidemic that swept through Maverick years back. The same one that took out Rooster’s mama and daddy and Bob’s pops. It was a real mess there for a while, but Mav and Penny took us all in, gave us a roof over our heads and put food in our bellies. I don’t think any of us were really much of the same after that, though.”

“Jake,” your heart broke for him. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for you to be sorry ‘bout, sweet girl. We get along just fine now. Jus’ wish my sister didn’t have to work so damn hard all the time, is all. Don’t wanna see her work herself into an early grave.”

You hesitated. “Is that why you do what you do? Steal, I mean.”

Jake didn’t answer for a moment. “That’s one reason. I’d do anything for my sister and that kid of hers. The money and treasures I get from doin’ all those jobs mostly goes to help her out.”

“And the other reason?” you asked. Jake pursed his lips, contemplating his next words.

“Rooster was real torn up about his parents. I, at least, had Sarah. Bradley? He didn’t have anyone. Think something died in him the day he lost the both of’em. He started acting out when we got older, and before long he was out robbin’ banks and all sorts of other shit. I think a part of him just wanted to hurt the world the same way it hurt him, and he decided that that meant he had to take. Take what isn’t his, and keep taking before the world takes from him again.”

“And what about you? Why did you join him? Why did any of you?”

“We’re not goin’ to leave a friend to walk through hell alone,” he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. You studied his profile for a moment.

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin.”

You saw the tips of his ears flush a bright crimson. He cleared his throat and turned to look at you with a playful glare.

“Alright, you’re turn,” he smirked. “Which of my friends do you like the most? And if you say Javy, I’m dumping you on the side of the road.”

Steam billowed as a train whistle sounded on the platform. Jake was handing your luggage over to the conductor as you surveyed the station. It was still the same as when you had arrived months ago, but you felt that you yourself had changed. You supposed you had.

“Are you ready? Guy says we’re leavin’ in a couple of minutes,” Jake said as he sidled up to you, placing a gentle arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you smiled at him, allowing him to steer you towards the train car. The conductor reached out a hand to you, and you took it gratefully. You felt your cheeks flush as Jake laid his hands gently on your hips, lifting you onto the step as the conductor pulled you up. Jake followed after you, and the two of you quickly found seats near the middle of the car. You sat by the window as Jake sat across from you just as the train began to lurch forward. Jake jumped at the sudden movement, shoulders and face tense.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his. He glanced at you, then took a deep breath to relax.

“Jus’ never been on one of these before,” he answered, offering you a nervous smile. You returned the smile, patting his hand before pulling away.

“Yes, I suppose it can be a tad nerve-wrecking when you’re not used to it.”

“You travel a lot?” he asked you, watching as you turned to look out the window.

You shrugged. “Not so much anymore. I used to take trips with my friends up to New York every now and then.”

“You must miss it,” he murmured, eyes never leaving you. You looked at him.

“I miss them.”

Jake frowned, his turn to look out the window at the landscape that rushed past you. “Well, you’ll see’em soon enough.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, but before you could, and older woman and her husband joined you in your seats. Jake was polite, but you could sense something was off with him as his smile never quite reached his eyes. You retired for the evening, wishing the older couple a pleasant evening as Jake rose to walk you to your sleeping quarters. You stopped in front of the door to your cabin, looking up at Jake with a coy smile.

“I’m fairly certain that couple thinks we’re married,” you chuckled. Jake’s face remained stoic as he watched you.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. Your smile dropped as your eyes widened up at him.

“What?”

Jake watched you for another half second before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Nothing,” he muttered, knocking his fist on the doorframe twice before turning to head to his own cabin. “Goodnight, Scout.”

You watched him as he closed his door behind him before turning into your own cabin, shutting the door behind you.

The next morning you found yourself only hours away from St.Louis. You dressed slowly before walking over to Jake’s cabin. When he didn’t answer your knock, you decided to see if he had gone on ahead. You found him minutes later in the dining car, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked tired, bags heavy under his eyes as he looked out the window. A couple of women at the table next to him were casting him barely concealed glances as they giggled amongst each other. You marched down the aisle and sat in the seat across from him. He started at your entry, but relaxed when he realized it was you.

“You’re up early this morning,” you commented. He hummed at you, taking another sip from his coffee. You pressed on. “Are you usually such an early riser?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he grumbled, and you pursed your lips.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. He glanced at you.

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The question caught you off guard, and you balked before fixing him with a curious look.

“Sometimes,” you admitted slowly. “I suppose most girls do. It’s something we’re raised to do, after all.”

“But do you want to?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” you stated, shifting in your seat. “I do. Someday.”

“And what about the groom? Who is it you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

You scowled at him. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

Jake just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. You huffed. “I suppose I’ve never really given it too much thought. I knew I would have to get married one day, and I assumed that one day I might fall in love with someone. There were several young men pushed for me to choose, but I suppose none of them ever felt right.”

“What about you?” you asked suddenly. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Me?” Jake laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Not really. Never thought I’d like anyone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with them. Used to laugh at the idea of ever finding someone who could make me want to settle down.”

“And now?”

Jake’s expression remained amused, but there was a hint of an emotion behind his eyes that, try as you might, you couldn’t place. Jake glanced out the window and made to stand up. “Looks like we’re here.”

The train ride from St.Louis to Baltimore started off much of the same, except this time you were seated next to a group of young women who openly gawked and giggled over the handsome man across from you. You felt a rush of irritation as one dropped her hand fan in the aisle. Jake reached down to grab it for her, staring up at her with a polite smile.

“I think you dropped this,” he offered as she took it. Your blood boiled when she batted her eyes at him with a coy smile.

“Thank you, handsome,” she grinned as her friends broke out into another round of giggles. Jake cleared his throat with a wince as he leaned back into his seat. You stood up abruptly, and Jake was left scrambling to his feet.

“I’m tired,” you announced, making a pointed effort to not look at the girls. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jake agreed, following down the aisle after you. Neither of you said a word to the other as you made your way towards your cabin for the evening. Stopping in front of the door, you turned to look at Jake.

“This is me,” you said. Jake looked at the number on the cabin and then down at the ticket in his hand.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” you frowned. Jake looked up at you and then back down to his ticket before letting out a sigh.

“Ticket says this is my cabin too.”

“What?” you shrieked, snatching the ticket from his hand. “Give me that.”

You stared down at the black ink, willing the information to change. You glanced at Jake who was still watching you, waiting for you to come to terms with the situation.

“What do you want to do?” he asked finally.

“Well, we’ll just have to find the conductor and get this mess sorted out.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’ll go try and find him. You stay here.”

A half hour passed before Jake slunk back to the cabin looking defeated. He offered you an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t find him.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” you muttered, turning to open the door. “Come on, then.”

“What?” He said, eyes growing wide.

“Look,” you gritted out as you stepped through the door, “we can be adults about this. It’s one night.”

“But-”

“Would you rather sleep out here?” You argued. Jake didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought. Now come on.”

Jake followed you into the cabin silently, closing the door behind him. You moved to open your luggage that had been placed inside when you boarded, taking out your nightdress. You turned to see Jake still staring at you. The two of you stood in the tiny space facing each other for a moment.

“I need to change,” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, I’ll just,” Jake stuttered, moving to turn.

“Don’t look,” you threw in for good measure, earning a nervous chuckle from the man in front of you. You turned around, quickly undressing before throwing your nightdress on. You turned back around to see Jake still facing the door.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m decent.”

Jake turned around to face you, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. He slowly looked you up and down before meeting your gaze again. “My turn.”

You watched as Jake removed his shirt. You blushed when he pushed his pants down to reveal the white, knee-length undergarments he wore. You took in the smattering of blond hair that covered his broad chest, almost blending in with the gold of his skin. Jake cleared his throat and glanced at the bed.

“How do you wanna,” he trailed off. You looked at the bed and made your decision. You brushed past him, moving to lay down. You laid back, glancing up at him shyly. Jake watched you in a reverie, breaths coming out quick and stuttered as he looked down at you. He turned to dim the gas lamp, casting the room in darkness save for the moonlight that filtered through the window. Silently, slowly, he laid down in the bed next to you.

The two of you laid in silence for almost an hour, Jake’s back to you as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Jake?” you called out softly. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

You rolled onto your side, facing his back. “You never answered my question.”

Jake rolled over so that you two were now facing each other. “What question is that, pretty girl?”

“Back at the ranch, when I told you what Beau said, I asked you why you were suddenly so worried about him when you weren’t before.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. “Do you know why they call him ‘Cyclone?’”

You shook your head.

“They call him that because when he sets his mind on a job, he comes in with a fury, leaving nothing behind, just like a tropical storm.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Are you scared?” you asked him quietly, and he gave you a wry smile.

“Only of something happening to you, sweet girl.”

You reached up to run your fingertips over his cheek, running them down until they brushed over his lips. He parted them slightly, looking at you with eyes ablaze. Before you could think on it, you surged forward, planting your lips on his. Jake quickly deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to your hip to pull you close. He grabbed the flesh of your thigh as he lifted your leg up to drape over his waist. You parted your lips at the movement, and he took advantage of it, licking into your mouth with a desperation that left your head dizzy. You moaned into his mouth, pushing yourself against him as he slowly guided you up into a sitting position.

You grabbed at any part of him that you could reach, whining when he broke the kiss. He chuckled as you chased his lips with your own, but fixed you with a serious look in his eye.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, hand skimming the ends of your nightdress. “Tell me to stop, and I swear I will, y/n.”

“Don’t stop,” you responded breathlessly. Jake leaned in to grant you another kiss before pulling back to lift your dress over your head. The cool air of the night washed over you, and you suddenly felt exposed as he drank in your naked form. You moved to cover yourself, but he grabbed your arms, gently leaning you back down onto the bed as he hovered over you.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, the green of his eyes swallowed by the blacks of his pupils. “I want to look at you.”

You watched him as he drank in your form, hands softly gliding down to rest on your hips. A small smile played at the edge of his lips.

“You look so pretty for me, honey girl,” he hummed. Your breath caught in your throat as he parted your legs. Leaning back to take all of you in, his eyes blazed with want as he stared down at your most intimate part. He surged forward, capturing your lips in an unexpected kiss before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. He sucked a bruising kiss onto the base of your neck, you gasped as you felt the hard, covered length of him push against your dripping core. One of his hands reached up to grasp your breast as his mouth encased around one of your nipples. You mewled, thoughtlessly pushing your chest up into his warm mouth. He pulled off of your hardening peak with a low chuckle.

“You gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he smirked down at you, fingers still toying with the nipple that hadn’t just been in his mouth. “Don’t want to disturb the other passengers, do we?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his mouth was attached back to you. You squirmed underneath him, desperate for more of the mind-numbing pleasure you knew he could give you. Jake was in no hurry, though. He took his time lapping at your sensitive bud before switching his attention to the other. Your head fell back in frustration as your hands moved up to tug on his blond strands.

“Jake, please” you moaned. Jake gave you a playful glare before giving a particularly hard pinch to your breast that had you crying out.

“Greedy girl,” he rumbled, leaning up to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’ll take what I give you, understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and Jake hummed in approval. Mercifully, he trailed his lips down your body, giving fleeting sucks and nips to your nipples before moving further down. Your breath hitched as he shifted down the bed, face level with the junction of your legs. He teased open-mouthed kisses up and down your thighs, never touching you where you wanted him most, and you began to squirm yet again. Jake moved to wrap his arms around your thighs, caging them in his hold so that you couldn’t move. He nuzzled up into your mound before making eye contact with you.

“Been thinkin’ about this for weeks, honey girl,” he murmured, breath fanning over you and making you cry out. “Been thinkin’ about how sweet you tasted that night in the alley. Fucked my hand at the thought about all those little noises you made jus’ for me as I made you fall apart on my fingers. Fuck, you squeezed me so tight. Imagined what it would be like to have my cock buried in this pretty pussy instead of my fingers.”

“Jake!” you cried out at his words. You let out another cry as he snaked a finger around to run gently run through your folds.

“Look at you, darlin’. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaked. You’re practically drippin’ on the bed for me. The thought of takin’ my fat cock inside of you makin’ you this wet? Jesus, I see you clenching. This greedy, little cunt is practically beggin’ for me.”

“Jakey, please,” you sobbed, feeling the tears start to prickle behind your eyes. Jake continued his torture, finger now grazing lightly over your clit, and your hips started to buck up into him before he pushed them back down.

“Uh, uh, sweetheart,” he chided, casting you a light glare. “You take what I give you, remember?”

You whined as he began to draw tiny figure eights on your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, darlin’. You just lie back and take it. Let Jakey make you feel good, yeah?” he drawled, sinking a finger into you. He let out a low groan as you clenched tightly around the digit. “Fuck, pretty girl. Love the way you grip me like that. My pretty pussy is just beggin’ for me to fill her up, huh?”

You felt yourself clench at the thought, and he chuckled, adding a second finger.

“Yeah, she likes the sound of that. Loves the idea of me pumpin’ into you until I give you everythin’ I have to give.”

You cried out when he pulled out of you, but his fingers were quickly replaced with the feel of his tongue diving into you. You raised your hand to bite your fist in an attempt to keep quiet. He thrust his fingers back into you as his mouth moved to nurse on your clit, sending you headfirst towards your orgasm.

“Been thinkin’ about this since I tasted you the first time, honey girl. Couldn’t wait to get my mouth on you and get my fix. Never gonna get my fix, though. Taste too good for me to ever have my fill o’ you,” he rasped. You watched his hips rut into the mattress as he feasted on you, your slick coating his lips as he nipped at your bud. Your legs began to shake as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

“Jakey,” you cried out as his fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Yeah, honey? Did I find your special spot again? Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Can’t wait to sink my cock into you and fill you up with my cum. You want that? You want me to fill you up pretty girl?” he asked you breathlessly, the pace of his hips quickening against the mattress. “That’s okay, you don’t gotta answer me. Your cunt is doin’ all the talkin’ for you. She’s weepin’ for me to pump my load into you, get you nice and swollen with my baby.”

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now. You flung a hand over your face, but Jake was having none of it.

“Look at me, sugar. Wanna see your face as you fall apart for me. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you so full. Gonna keep you all nice and round while I take care of you. Gonna take care of my gorgeous, little wifey.”

You cried out as your vision went white, his words flinging you over the edge. You watched his own eyes widen as you came apart, his hips stuttering against the mattress as he let out a whimper into your core. You ground your hips down into him as you rode out your high, and Jake grunted as his hips stilled, shaking with the strain.

You slowly came back to yourself, a sheen of sweat covering your body as Jake pressed soft, gentle kisses up the length of your body before pressing reaching up to stroke your cheek affectionately. You met his gaze, his green eyes watching you. Your chest rose quickly as you fought to control your breathing, and Jake gave you a small smile before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sleep now, honey girl,” he whispered as he dragged the blanket over you. You reached out for him, and he pulled you into his chest with a slight chuckle and one last kiss to the top of your head.

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

*Jackson scoffs at your words, having no retort to that since it was true, shaking his head* You are a witty one, huh? *he couldn’t wipe the dumb smirk off his face, never meeting someone who could throw it back at him the way you could, you always keeping him on his toes, never knowing what you were going to say next and It excited him, loving that you were so unpredictable and always kept him guessing* *he frowns when he sees you shiver, wanting to walk over and wrap his arms around you and keep you warm and safe, knowing it would be easy and that you’d probably lean into it, but he knew he couldn’t, that morning was the only form of closeness and intimacy he’d ever be allowed with you and you were asleep, having no idea about it* *he blinks out of his thoughts as you ask him for the salt and pepper, nodding as he turns and finds them amongst the other spices, handing them to you before leaning back against the counter and bringing the mug to his lips again* Your mom sounds like a legend… teaching you how to camp, start a fire, make picky bits… are you two still close now? *he didn’t know why he asked, not sure when he started caring about your personal life, but it seemed that you and your mom had an amazing relationship and he was slightly envious, not because  he wanted to spend time with his own mother but just because he wanted her to be proud of him the way he was sure your mom was proud of you* *he chuckles when you say you were a girl guide* Naturally… well, it’s all come in handy now. Thank goodness. *he raises his brows when you ask if he wanted to learn, shrugging before nodding* Sure, just in case I am in this situation again and you aren’t here to keep me alive and sustained… might be good to know how to cook like a proper wilderness survivor. *he tilts his head as he smiles at you, this all being out of his comfort zone but he just loved you showing him how to do things, liking that you were in charge, just falling into line and wanting to follow your lead*

___________________________________

*cocks a brow at your scoff and smirk, grinning a little and humming* Learnt from the best. *meaning you, you always being sharp and quick witted* *looks up as you catch on about my mum, my face falling a little and unable to hide the flash of sadness as I look away for a second before deciding I could trust you and I felt comfortable being honest and vulnerable with you, looking back up at you and shrugging with a sad wistful smile* She died, when I was 16. She wasn’t well for a long time. But we were close, was just us at home so yeah we were really close. *smiles a little, my heart always hurting when I thought of her, glancing up at you when you go quiet and biting my lip, resisting the urge to make light of it* I think I’ve got everything. *says with a smile, heading back into the living room and sighing as the warmth of the fire washes over me again, you closing the door behind us to keep the heat in as I sit beside the fire and lay out the utensils and ingredients, grabbing the pan before looking up at you and patting the carpet next to me* Come on then. Time to be a boy scout.