x-reader-things - Tumblr blog

x-reader-things · 9 days ago

Text

The Ace Up Your Sleeve Job

Pairing: s2/3!Breanna Casey/Ace!20s!Reader

Reader Gender: Non-Man (not plot relevant)

CW: established relationship, dinner date based on The Date Night Job, discussion of reader having a job interview, relationship problems that comes with lying to your partner about doing crime, communication, reader is chill with crime, reader is a baker, reader has no sense of self-preservation and would likely die in a horror movie, reader thanks god, awkward dating things, awkward family meeting, Breanna ran a background check on you, minor references to OT3 (sue me), cute dating things

Word Count: 2515

Summary: Dating sometimes has its complications, and even more so when you’re in a relationship with a criminal.

A/N: Happy Pride! I have more ideas for Breanna fics, so I’m continuing them in a mini-series! This one is significantly longer than the other. Needless to say, I enjoy writing for Breanna.

Part 1 | Masterlist | AO3

Breanna had invited you to dinner in the courtyard tonight. The space was lit with soft string lights and candles. The soft lighting was calming and peaceful, settled your anxiety and nerves into a simmering excitement low in your belly. A small vase of pink and white flowers sat next to a candle at the table. It never ceased to amaze you just how sweet Breanna could be. All romantic and dorky and perfectly sweet while being completely secretive and shady.

She waved you over to the table, and pulled your chair out while you took off your coat. A warm saccharine feeling swelled in your chest.

“Stay here. I’ll go get the food.” She gestured for you to sit, eagerness in her voice.

It was nice, having dinner like this. Just the two of you in her family’s courtyard, a nice meal, and good conversation.

She was beautiful tonight. Well, she was beautiful all the time, even when she was exhausted at her computer under a blanket, but tonight she looked exquisite. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, with two braids circling her head like a crown. She wore a white marbled hoodie under a light pink blazer.

“So, how did your interview go?” She asked before taking a bite.

As you answered, her phone dinged and her attention went to her phone. You raised an eyebrow and paused. “Everything okay?”

She sighed, and flipped her phone screen-down. “Just my family. It’s fine.” She glanced down at the meal and jolted in surprise. “Oh, but you know what, I just realized I forgot the hot sauce. I’ll be right back.” Before you could say anything, she went inside, phone in-hand.

You sighed. There it was again. Her super-secret job. It didn’t truly bother you, not really. It was important to her, so it was important to you. But she kept you firmly separated from it. Breanna wanted to keep you safely away from it all. Apparently it ended her last few relationships. It never worried you, though. You could handle a bit of shadiness. You just hoped it wasn’t the kind of stuff that hurt people. That thought curdled your stomach. It was practically your only worry with Breanna.

She came back a few minutes later with a bottle of hot sauce and an embarrassed smile. “Sorry about that. You were telling me about your interview?”

“Oh, yeah!” You smiled, “Like I said, I think it went well. Hopefully I get it. I’m not sure how long I can stay at my current job.”

“You will. You’re more than qualified.”

The conversation continued from there. At certain points, you almost forgot to enjoy the food. The topics of discussion bounced around in the way it often did when you’re comfortable with someone. Everything from the state of the world to her latest robotic creation to new movies. It was nice. Until she suddenly jerked again.

She cursed softly. “I can’t believe I forgot the side salad! I grabbed the hot sauce, but completely forgot the side salad.” She excused as she disappeared back inside.

A shot of… dare you say disappointment hit your chest. Yeah, you suppose it was disappointment. Disappointed for the interrupted date. Here you were, completely falling for this woman, and she kept running away to do god-knows what. Frankly, it wasn’t the fact that her family needed her, or the fact that she kept leaving the table. No, it was more the fact that she couldn’t – wouldn’t – tell you about it. And you understood. You did. But, man if it didn’t hurt all the same.

She was gone longer, this time. And you got the hint. Whatever was going on, her family needed her. You sighed, and took another bite of your food. Maybe you should head out…

You were pulling on your coat as Breanna rushed back in. “Oh, no, no, no, please don’t go.”

You sighed. “Look, Breanna, I get if something’s going on with your family, but I’d rather you just, you know, tell me next time. Instead of just lying and running out like that.”

She ran a hand over her hair and looked down. Her lines of her face tight with worry. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just… my family, my job, is… we’re shady, man. You know it ended my last relationship, and I don’t want it to end this one. I really like you.” Her eyes danced over your face, searching for a reaction.

“And I’m fine with that, Breanna.” You smiled, “Really, I am, but just talk to me next time, okay?” Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “I just have one question.” She inclined her head. “You’re not, like, hurting people, right?”

She shook her head. “No, no, we don’t hurt people. I mean,” her head titled, “we do, but only like super bad guys.”

You laughed. “What? Like Robin Hood or something?”

She smirked and chuckled. “Yeah, I’m like Robin Hood.”

The disappointment and hurt left like it was never there. Replaced with contentment and satisfaction of knowing everything was alright in your relationship. That little bit of knowledge she told you meant the world, all things considering.

“Alright, Robin Hood,” you smiled softly, relishing in the contentment of the moment, “you have some family business to attend to. We can do something when you’re done.”

The square pink box was balanced carefully in your hand as you knocked on the light blue courtyard door. The cake had come out perfect. A new recipe and a whole lot of experimenting had resulted in the best lemon blueberry cake you’d ever made. You were practically buzzing with excitement at showing Breanna. You’d texted her you were coming over the second you finished icing it. It was always so much fun sharing your baked goods with others, but especially Breanna. Maybe it was sharing it with someone you cared about (you wouldn’t say love, but it was definitely something close).

You knocked on the door. After a few moments, no one answered. With a frown, you knocked again. Huh. Usually, Breanna told you if she was busy, or gone, or doing her Robin Hood thing. You called her, just to be sure.

It went to voicemail.

“Hey, Bree. I stopped by your place, but I guess you’re busy at the moment. I finished that cake I was telling you about. Guess I got so excited, I forgot to make sure you were available. Come over to mine when you’re free,” you moved to lean against the door, “and we can watch that movie you were telling me about the other day- “ you were cut off with a gasp as the door moved beneath you.

That’s weird… That door was always locked. Always. Breanna and her family were crazy serious about security. (You imagined it had something to do with her vigilantism.) Concern rose in your chest. Your heartbeat thundered in your ear. You ended your voicemail. If something bad happened…

You pushed the door open. The courtyard looked the same as it always did. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Breanna?” You called, concern lacing your voice. You set the cake box on one of the tables and crept further into the courtyard. “Hello? Breanna, you here?” Voices echoed from inside. You walked toward them. “Hello? The door was unlocked. Is everything okay?”

You walked over to the wooden door with windowpanes. Inside the bar stood Breanna and four other people: two older women (one brunette, one blonde) and two older men (one familiar – Eliot, you think – and the other not). Her family. It had to be. You’d never met them, but Breanna talked about them since she’d told you about the true nature of her job.

Oh, thank god. You let out a sigh of relief, and let your shoulders drop. She was busy, though, so you turned to leave. One of the biggest tenets of your relationship was the boundary between you and her work. It was one you respected above anything. With your back turned, you didn’t see Eliot’s eyes lock onto you, or everyone else’s heads turn, or Breanna’s eyes widen as she ran over to the door.

“Y/N?” Breanna’s voice stopped you short. You spun around, eyes wide. “What, uh, what’re ya doing here?”

“Uh, hi.” You gave an awkward wave. “The door was open. I was just making sure everything was okay.”

She shot her family a look and came up to you. “You didn’t say you were coming over today. We’re, uh, we’re a bit busy.”

“I texted. Got a bit excited and forgot to see if you actually responded.” You smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I brought cake.”

She shook her head fondly, then glanced behind her again. “Well, since you’re here, do you want to meet my family?”

You tried not to smile. It was something you’d discussed briefly before, but Breanna wanted to keep you safely away from her job at all costs, even if that meant keeping you away from her family. The whole Robin Hood thing wasn’t a dealbreaker in the slightest. It was completely in character, and, if you were being honest with yourself, incredibly attractive. “I’d love to.”

Breanna reached out and took your hand. Her palm was slightly sweaty. With a gentle squeeze, she tugged you toward the small crowd that had gathered in the doorway. “Uh, guys, this is my partner, Y/N.” You waved awkwardly to them. “Y/N, this is Sophie,” she pointed to the older brunette woman, “Parker,” she gestured to the blonde woman, “Harry,” next was the lawyer-looking man, “and you already met Eliot.” Last was the man you’d met the first time you were here.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you all. Breanna talks about you all the time.” You said.

“All the time, huh?” Parker eyed Breanna.

“I mean, I only told them the basics.” She shrugged innocently. “They’re cool with it.”

All eyes landed on you. Eliot’s eyebrow raised and Sophie scanned you. “You guys are like Robin Hood, so yeah, I’m cool with it.”

“Besides,” Breanna continued, “I ran a background check and they’re clean.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. That never occurred to you, but you supposed it made sense. Criminal vigilantes had to make sure the people who got close were actually who they said they were. Had it been anyone else, you might feel violated, but knowing Breanna, it didn’t feel like a privacy violation so much as assurance. And it meant she wanted to keep you around. “I feel like I should be more weirded out than I am.” You mumbled to yourself.

She squeezed your hand and awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Y/N, but we have some work to get back to.” Sophie interrupted, her voice pleasant and gently urging.

“Oh!” You jolted slightly at the reminder. “I should let you get back to what you’re doing.” You moved to pick up the cake box, hand still intertwined with Breanna’s. “You guys should enjoy this, though.”

“Is that cake!?” Parker bounced on her heels and reached out. Eliot snatched her around the waist and pulled her against his chest.

“No, no, you brought that for the two of us.” Breanna protested. Her face was creased with a bit of guilt.

“Hey, it’s okay, Bree. I want you guys to enjoy it.” You tried to hand her the box.

“Or you could join us.” Sophie’s voice once again interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, you already know what we do, so why don’t you come in and join us for a slice?” She continued.

Breanna bounced on her heels, her eyes sparkled with excitement and her face lit up. “You serious?” Sophie nodded. “Yes! Come on! I can’t wait to show you around!” She laughed and moved to tug you inside.

You’d never been inside their actual base. Only the courtyard. It truly was beautiful. High ceilings with stained glass and a glorious bar. There was a bay of TVs on the stage, with the bank statements – among other things – for some tech CEO. Paintings and pictures lined the peeling walls. It was gorgeous and homey. Breanna dragged you over to the bar as you gawked. You placed the box on the bar top.

Eliot pulled plates and a knife from somewhere behind the bar. The cake had survived the trip from your apartment well. It still stood with its candied blueberries and lemon peel perfectly placed on top the carefully applied cream cheese frosting. You took it out carefully. Eliot twirled the knife (impressively) and handed it to you.

“What is it?” He asked as you handed out slices.

“Lemon blueberry with cream cheese frosting. I’ve been working on this recipe for a few years now.” You replied, forcing the pride and excitement at people trying your food down.

Breanna leaned against you as everyone ate. Her shoulder pressed against you, her thigh too. You leaned into her too, taking comfort in her warmth. Your free hand brushed up against hers, and her pinky linked with yours. A blush worked its way up your cheeks and you ducked your head to hide it.

“How’d ya get the blueberries so even?” Eliot asked after a sound of satisfaction.

Your attention turned to him as you softly smiled. “If you wash them and toss them in flour, it prevents them from sinking.”

“Huh.” He took another bite.

“So,” Harry started, “how did you two meet?”

You and Breanna looked at each other, and she launched into the story of her ace-ing rescue.

It was nice, being part of a family like that. Breanna’s family was incredible. It was a bit awkward at first, and you let her do most of the talking at first, but they were easy to warm up to. Maybe it was the fact that Breanna’s touch never left yours, but a warm saccharine feeling stayed with you the whole time. They didn’t let slip much about the actual details of their work. But they were thieves. Obvious, from everything you learned. And you feel like that should bother you more than it did. The world had gone to hell. It felt good, knowing there were people working to fix the worst of it.

After everyone finished their slice (two for Parker), Eliot took the dirty dishes and disappeared down the hallway. Breanna guided you back to the door. Her hand never left yours. Spending time with her like this was the best part of your week. And meeting her family was a huge step. One you relished in.

“I had a really nice time. Thanks for letting me stay.” You smiled, brushing your hand against her cheek. Her face went soft. Eyes fluttered half-shut, lips dropping just slightly.

She leaned into your hand. “Yeah, well, I’m just glad I forgot to set the door security. Otherwise, I would’ve missed you.”

You giggled softly. “Yeah, me too.” You let your hand drop to rest against her chest. “Come over when you’re done saving the world, okay?”

Part 3: The Acing It Job

Do not copy to another site. Ask for permission before bookbinding. I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE FROM FEEDING MY FICS TO AI. All rude comments will be blocked and deleted.

Buy me a coffee?

#GOING TO READ THIS RN REBLOGGING BC I NEED TO SCREAM #ACE READER TOO????????#DURING PRIDE MONTH?????????????#YEAHHHHHH #OP YOU ARE AMAZING TY TY TY TY TY TY TY #I AM ACE AND PANROMANTIC TYYYYYY

7 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 14 days ago

Text

I have like 3 ekko wips [2 of which I need the motivation again for TvT and one I started yesterday] and then a few Ezra Bridger [from Star Wars Rebels] requests / wips that I need to work on too-

How are my angels doing? ❤️ Any new wips you've been working on? ☺️☺️

#and other requests too ofc but I need to go through them again a u g h

25 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 16 days ago

Note

< / 3

INK AND BEDROCK READER AND EKKO MY BELOVEDS-

Augh am just thinking of how sweet this is and then B O O M I think of that monster thing (from that one Noxus video I keep thinking about every so often) following reader home or smth and I’m just p a i n- no, not rn, these guys need to be happy and reader and Ekko a break from Noxus chaos, I b e g-

Anyways angsty idea aside-

THIS IS SO BITTERSWEET BUT LIKE IN THE NICEST WAY-

Hi pookie bear!!

Your girl here misses Ink and Bedrock so bad 😓

I was just thinking of maybe a lovestruck Ekko who just misses his darling so much he gets to dream of her. He's so, so in love and he carries saudade (if you guys don't know, it means a longing for someone but not the hurting type? it's a brazilian portuguese word that doesn't have a proper translation!) so deeply in his heart that he's not even mad after he wakes up. He's glad he got to see R again, even if it was inside of his mind. 🥹

I miss ink and bedrock so much! Thank you for requesting, bleaky!! I hope you like it ❤️❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), set in my series ink and bedrock, established relationship, noxian! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, cw food mentions, fluff!

Ink and Bedrock

Navigation

Ekko opens his eyes to the sight of a sea of red and green flowers. Emerald grass kissing his legs, sunlight drenching him in warmth. The breeze dances around him, a flurry of leaves and red poppies. The place is pure paradise, soft and gentle to him, as if it’s pulling him into the grass so he could rest upon the caressing flora.

Just as he was about to succumb to its call, he sees a figure in the distance. Amidst the fluttering petals and sweet smelling air, he sees you just like how he last saw you before you got onto the blimp with a promise that you'll be back home before he knew it. You're in your signature crimson coat that drags along the blades of grass as you walk slowly towards him. An angel draped in red, smiling at him sweetly with those lips he still remembered the feel of upon his own.

“Hi, firefly.” You greet, head tilted as you look at him through your lashes. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, trouble.” Ekko breathlessly says, chest warm, hands already outstretched to meet with your own. “How?”

“Guess you missed me so much that you managed to conjure me.” Your hands intertwine with his own, fingers sewing together in a perfect pair. Your hands have ink stains dotted along your palms, it sticks to his own but he doesn't care when you're right there in front of him as real as the sky itself. “Come here, please.”

With your words, he lunges for you, chest to chest, face finding the crook of your neck as he sighs out. You're warm against him, and you smell just like how he remembered— vanilla and sea breeze. You still feel like home, as if you never left.

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask, arms enveloping around him as you gently guide him down on the grass with him still fully embracing and breathing you in.

“Of course that's the first thing you ask.” His words are muffled against your skin.

Chuckling, you trace your knuckles over his back, lazily dancing your fingers all over and drawing shapes. “Well I can't have you starving now just because I'm not home.”

Leaning away, Ekko wants to tell you so many things, stories that he needs you to know while you were gone. The two of you have been writing to each other almost everyday, but it doesn't compare to the real thing, it doesn't compare to him holding you, kissing you like it was the first time. And hearing your voice like it's the most beautiful ballad he has ever heard of. Missing you was an understatement, he felt like his heart was outside of his body, miles away from him while it still beats.

“I'm eating, don't worry. Are you okay? In Demacia?” Cupping your cheeks, you lean against his touch, eyes softening while his thumbs rub along your jaw. “No one's giving you trouble?”

Hands upon his chest, Ekko thinks that you can feel his quickening heartbeat beneath your palm. That confirms it when you beam at him with a light-hearted smile. “That's good, make sure you don't miss a meal, okay?” He nods along, “and I'm fine, like how I wrote to you, it's nothing I can't handle.” The sea glass bracelet he gave to you shines around your wrist, and you're the first one to make a move, leaning down to kiss the corner of his lips with a flutter of your lashes.

“I missed you…” he almost chokes on his words, eyes closed as he feels you pepper his face with slow saccharine kisses. “Zaun missed you.”

“Wow, the whole place did?” You sarcastically say, giggling atop his forehead while you smooch every bit of space on his face. He can't help but match your smile. “There hasn't been a single day that I didn't miss you, my firefly. We're doing good work here, and I'll be home soon, I promise.”

Ekko looks at you through half lidded eyes, “but you're already here?”

Hand splayed over his heart, you kiss him affectionately, like a flower petal brushing along his lips, brief yet he felt it through his bones. “I'm right here.” You poke his chest, “always.”

“And you say that I'm the romantic one.” Tugging you closer, he kisses you fully, he could feel your smile through the sweet kiss, your giggles ebbing through his rib cage and into his heart.

As he parts, he sees your tearful eyes smile at him. “You are the more romantic one, I'm just following your lead, Ekko.”

“We're both romantics then.”

“Oh we're so in love with each other it's sickening.” You utter with a grin, laughing as the sun shines behind you, bathing you with its glow.

He smiles, pulling you back against him until your head lays on his chest. Upon the dewy field of grass and flowers, he cradles you in place. Heart singing your name and hands holding you, caressing as he whispers stories into your ears. Stories that you missed but would gladly tell you to remind you that there are people waiting for you back home.

The last thing he heard was the chime of your laughter before he opened his eyes to the sight of the ceiling.

The morning breeze wafts past him, as if that was you saying hello. The other side of the bed has been cold ever since you left, but instead of feeling empty, he feels warmer, better, and feels closer to you than ever even though you're not near him.

Ekko longs for you, like a parched tree longing for rain. But he's proud of you too for leaving and doing good work outside of Zaun and Piltover like you were meant to be. He wants to be with you, wake up to your face and voice, but he can wait, he'll wait for you to come home. And when you're ready to fly back home, he'll greet you with open arms.

He had an abundance of dreams about you before, but this one felt different, like sunshine peeking through a tree’s branches after hours of rain. Maybe that dream was real, that he really did talk to you and held you in his arms for hours on end. Or maybe that was his mind's way of coping with missing you so bad that he could feel your lack of presence wherever he went. Either way, it made him feel lighter, happier, and ready to write you a letter like always with the main topic being the heavenly dream he had. Wishing that it could be real someday, maybe sooner.

As he gets on his board, the letter tucked inside his pockets, he hovers above the tree, watching as the sky glimmers with the same sunlight you're probably gazing upon right now. With a deep sigh, brown eyes filled with unshed tears, he pats the place where you poked— right atop his heart. Whispering your name so it could be carried by the wind to be brought over to your ears. He smiles, imagining the day when you finally step foot on the very same land he learned to love you in.

#t h e m- <3333333

84 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 21 days ago

Text

Green-Eyed Monster (Ezra Bridger / Reader)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Ezra Bridger/Reader

Summary:

“ Your one insecurity had always been that you were second to Sabine. Even when Ezra had disappeared all those years ago and your heart had painfully torn in two, you still felt second best. Ezra had left you a beautiful little message telling you he loved you for the first time before he had disappeared, yet Sabine had received one too. Even worse, Ahsoka had taken Sabine as an apprentice years ago instead of you though you both lacked an affinity for the force. Another insult your insecurities had twisted into a blade against you.

Now, ten years later, that jealousy had not dissipated. Instead, it had crossed with the horrible feeling of guilt.

While you had mourned Ezra’s death and moved on slowly, Sabine had never given up hope. She had remained on Lothal for years and always kept her ear out for news of Ezra. You had returned to your home planet and given up hope of ever finding your childhood sweetheart. Sabine had beat you yet again in seemingly being a better option for Ezra.”

Reader gets reunited with Ezra after ten years all while tormented by the thought that Sabine would be a better fit for him.

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack. Spoilers for Ahsoka Season 1.

Word Count: 7,962

Expected Reading Time: 28:57

Jealousy. There’s a horrible feeling deep in your very bones that rakes a claw down your being. You can feel every deep gash clearly as you scowl at the bottom of your tea. Your fingers curl and uncurl against the handle of the mug as Sabine chatters with Ahsoka.

Huyang turns his mechanic head towards you from the pilot seat and Ahsoka glances your way as if sensing your turmoil from the force, but Sabine remains oblivious. Once more, everyone can sense your emotions except the very target of your ire. You bury your anger as you take a long sip of the tea and let the liquid burn your tongue.

It’s been ten years since you lost Ezra and you still can’t manage to reel in the jealousy you feel towards Sabine. She’s an old friend, someone you trust implicitly, and yet the ugly green eyed monster rears its head every time she’s near.

Ever since you were kids, you envied her. She was an old friend from your imperial academy days and seemed to be better than you even then. She was born to high ranked Mandalorian parents whereas you were born the youngest to farmers in a backwater planet. She climbed up high in the academy and won awards while you hid in her shadow and merely fulfilled requirements. She was scouted by Hera and the rebels while you simply tagged along for the ride.

And she was the person that Ezra originally had a crush on while you watched painfully from the sidelines.

Ten years ago, you had fallen in love with someone you thought you could never have. One Ezra Bridger had won you over and crushed your heart without meaning to. While you had pined for him in the background, he had pined over Sabine. You had watched it all happen while cursing yourself for yet again not being as great as her.

Even after a miracle had happened and Ezra’s sights had turned to you, you had still felt jealousy towards Sabine. While Ezra had reassured you that he liked you and made you his girlfriend, you had still harbored some resentment towards your oldest friend. There had always been a little voice inside your head that had taunted you with the knowledge that Ezra was only yours because Sabine hadn’t wanted him. That you had been a consolation prize and second best.

Your one insecurity had always been that you were second to Sabine. Even when Ezra had disappeared all those years ago and your heart had painfully torn in two, you still felt second best. Ezra had left you a beautiful little message telling you he loved you for the first time before he had disappeared, yet Sabine had received one too. Even worse, Ahsoka had taken Sabine as an apprentice years ago instead of you though you both lacked an affinity for the force. Another insult your insecurities had twisted into a blade against you.

Now, ten years later, that jealousy had not dissipated. Instead, it had crossed with the horrible feeling of guilt.

For years, she had tried to get you on her side. She had told you to not give up hope and to help her find Ezra, yet you had pushed her away. Your grief and heartache were easier to manage if you told yourself Ezra was gone for good. As much as it pained you, you gave up all hope and harshly rebuked Sabine for still clinging to the idea of him returning. Anything to kill the last shreds of hope that remained within you before time could do it for you.

You had, had a massive falling out and hadn’t spoken in years. Not until Hera had commed you with Ahsoka and told you to return to Lothal because of a lead Ahsoka had about Thrawn.

Thrawn, Hera claimed, was the key to finding Ezra. The two of them had disappeared together. If one of them was rumored to be alive, the other might be too.

You had come back to Lothal after much trepidation and reunited with Sabine. To her credit, she had accepted you back into her group even if things between you were awkward and strained.

Still, being back near her and reopening the wound of Ezra’s disappearance had brought back a decade worth of insecurity and envy.

The tea burns down your throat as you finish it off. You wish Ashoka had packed something stronger. Were you back home, you would have loved to drink until the edge wore off.

Stuck in a ship with Sabine though, you bite your lip.

It truly isn’t fair, you know. Sabine was your oldest friend. You had met at the imperial academy and struck a friendship. You both had joined the empire as a way to rise in rank for your families, and both had seen past the gilded veneer of fascism. Once upon a time, you two regarded each other as sisters and you made quite the trio with Ketsu-

But fate had driven a wedge between you. You had fallen for someone who liked Sabine at the time and always felt second best. That jealousy had torn you to shreds and created a wall between the two of you. You aren’t sure how to manage it and the thought stings.

The call of your name brings you out of your thoughts. Sabine remains unaware of the darkness coiling inside you and calls for you to look over something. She’s brought her research with her and has been pouring over diagrams that she thinks could help in the hunt for Ezra.

You wander over to her side and pretend to make sense of the mess of lines and circles she’s drawn on a holomap. Ahsoka eyes you wearily as Sabine talks and you suppress the urge to clench your fists.

“No, I’ve never seen this galaxy either,” you murmur. Your eyes don’t even gaze at the map Sabine is pointing at. Your mind is miles away running from you and the horrible pit in your stomach that grows with every second.

Guilt and jealousy swirl within you. You are angry. Furious even. Angry at Sabine for dragging you back in the hopes of finding a man you love that you’ve tried hard to get over. Angry at the force for tearing Ezra away from you-

And angry at yourself for yet again being weaker than Sabine.

Sabine had never given up. While you had run from Lothal and tried hard to forget your childhood sweetheart, Sabine had remained steadfast. It was she who had unlocked the map coordinates while you had stared at that damn ball for hours until your head hurt and your eyes had turned red. It was Sabine who could think of a million different ways to continue the hunt while you could barely keep yourself from screaming.

In every way that counted, in every Maker’s damned one sided competition, she had always been ahead.

“Can you read this for me-?“

Sabine reaches past you to click on a screen. Projections of documents appear before you all with the names of different galaxies and star maps. You clench your jaw as you notice all the notes she’s taken over each document. She’s been at it for years, no doubt, always searching. Never giving up. Unlike you-

The one person that should have never given up on Ezra. The one who had sworn to love him forever, the one who had dreamed of marrying him, the one who should have been fighting from the beginning to find him-

Ahsoka’s hand touches your shoulder. You turn your head and find her gaze on you.

“Perhaps Huyang should look over the information instead. He can process it faster,” Ahsoka tells Sabine.

Huyang accepts the assignment and takes the tablet from Sabine. Sabine hardly notices the way you glare in her direction.

“Are you feeling alright?” Ahsoka questions. Her tone is gentle yet firm. Concerned for your feelings yet weary of the darkness inside you.

Briefly, you remember Kanan and Ezra discussing the force. Mentioning how they could sometimes sense emotions and tell when people were struggling. You’re sure Ahsoka has noticed how you flicker between rage and heartbreak over and over again.

You aren’t sure whether you should apologize or thank her for interceding. Had she not stepped in, you think you might have snapped and started screaming at Sabine to leave you alone.

“Fine,” you whisper back.

You certainly don’t feel fine and the lie tastes bitter in your mouth, but you shrug away her arm. Murmuring something about needing a break, you move past the group and disappear into another room of the ship.

Huyang’s workshop is tidy and neatly organized. You take stock of every lightsaber piece as your fingers trace every groove and indent.

To add further insult to injury, you don’t have possession of Ezra’s lightsaber either. You had, had it once right after Lothal had been freed but had surrendered it to Sabine on Ahsoka’s suggestion. When Ahsoka had decided to train Sabine as a Jedi over you, you had silently handed over the last remnant of the boy you loved and stormed off broken and bitter.

The lightsaber pieces around you are each different. You don’t see anything that resembles Ezra’s pieces anywhere. After a while, you end up just sliding into an empty seat and your head falls into your hands.

Everything is utterly in disarray. Your mind races with a million thoughts and you’re sure your heart is a pile of jagged pieces each shattered beyond repair.

The truth of the matter is that you know your insecurities are right. Sabine is better than you. At everything.

Had she liked Ezra back years ago, he would have never looked in your direction. The bittersweet memories you had of dating him would have never happened. You would have never been chosen if his first choice hadn’t panned out. Ezra had tried once to tell you that it wasn’t true, that he had genuinely fallen for you and it had nothing to do with Sabine only seeing him as a brother, but you hadn’t believed him.

And now? Now she was definitely better than you.

You had given up. You had once promised Ezra to love him forever yet had believed him dead. You had left Lothal, the planet he had sacrificed everything to protect, and suppressed every memory of him. You had dated around in hopes of forgetting his ghost and tried hard to move on-

All while Sabine had never lost hope. She had always fought for him and looked everywhere. She had never once believed him gone. You had the obligation to search for him as his girlfriend, yet you had failed him. Had it not been for Sabine, Ezra would have been truly lost.

The thought makes you want to scream. You grit your teeth tightly until your jaw hurts. If you weren’t so indebted to Sabine for finding a lead, you think you’d want to swing at her. She’s always been better than you. Ezra should have just held out for her all along rather than taking you as a consolation prize.

Feeling suddenly like you’re suffocating, you slam your fist into the control panel to slide open the door. Sabine looks up as you enter and Ahsoka quietly moves to allow you to retake your old seat. You ignore them all as you slide into place and hover your fingers over the tablet.

You need a distraction. Anything to keep the terrible feelings at bay. You slam some keys down until the maps disappear and you’re staring at a blank slate.

Quietly, you bury yourself in your work all the while stewing and boiling with rage.

———————————————

Days later, Sabine’s determination beats you once more. Cornered by Baylan and Shin, you and Sabine are forced to make a choice on what to do. Ashoka is gone and the map is in Sabine’s possession. You two have to decide whether to turn it over to the very people Ahsoka wanted to keep it from or cling to the hope that Ezra can be found.

When Baylan promises to take you both to him, you hesitate. Ahsoka’s words play over and over again in your head. She has long been warning you about what will happen if Thrawn returns. You know she would want you to destroy the map and keep Thrawn in exile forever-

But what about Ezra? Will destroying the map strand him wherever he is forever too? Will you give up your last chance at ever finding him?

Your mind and your heart wage a war. You want desperately to see Ezra again but you remember his sacrifice. You know he’d want to protect the galaxy from the Empire. You don’t know what to do-

In the end, Sabine beats you to it. Better than you in every way, she hands over the map to Baylan. She accepts the terms for you both and tells you to drop your weapon with a calm, clear voice. You both hate her and feel grateful that she’s taken the choice out of your hands.

You let them cuff you and don’t even react when Shin uses the force to cut off your airway. Nothing she could possibly do could hurt more than the ugly feeling of being a disappointment. Once more, Sabine has proven herself a better fit for Ezra than you. Were he to ever find out that you hesitated on this choice, you think he’d leave you once and for all and realize that Sabine has always been better for him.

When you and Sabine face off Thrawn, you hardly pay attention. The villain that plagued you for years hasn’t changed much. His glowing red eyes sweep over you with mild boredom before he directs all his attention at Sabine. He seems genuinely unamused when he realizes Sabine has traded the galaxy for the hope of finding Ezra.

You feel a cold knife twist in your stomach and look away as Sabine faces Thrawn off. There is no hesitation or remorse in her gaze when she coldly tells Thrawn that he could never understand. You wince feeling guilty at the memory of your own hesitation.

It seems like Sabine is the only one completing this journey. When the two of you mount your steeds, it’s her who fights off the bandits. She moves like a lightning strike taking them down while you throw punches and kicks at random barely managing to take down one while she’s got the squad down in moments. When a Noti appears, it’s Sabine who realizes he’s wearing a Jedi symbol on his clothing.

You feel like a shadow merely following her around. Every new revelation and step closer to finding Ezra brings you both joy and envy.

Sabine feels like she’s better suited for the role of Ezra’s partner compared to you. She’s been loyal, determined, and fierce in his search. You, who had a responsibility to find him, had given up. Ezra deserved better than you.

By the time you make it back to Noti’s village, you feel the weight of your own soul crushing you. You feel painfully jealous, angry at yourself, and broken down. You try to ignore Sabine as she urges you forward telling you that something about this particular village feels different.

You’re so downtrodden that you don’t even realize someone is calling your name until you turn your head and hear Sabine’s breath hitch. Time seems to slow down as your eyes meet a striking blue that you haven’t seen in years. Your heart races and you move to run at Ezra-

When Sabine beats you to it.

She all but rushes past you to beat you to Ezra first. Ezra, half way to you, is interrupted as Sabine crashes into him. Her arms wrap around his frame and she buries her head into his neck. He looks like he wants to move to you for a brief moment before he hugs her back and greets her for the first time in ten years.

You hang back awkwardly watching the love of your life embrace someone else. Every hurtful thought you’ve ever heard about not deserving to be at Ezra’s side plays over and over again in your mind. Worse still, you are forced to see how good Sabine looks with Ezra. They click together like puzzle pieces and look perfect. Two halves of the same whole.

A coldness seeps into your very bones. You suppress the tears forming and grit your teeth painfully. If anything, Sabine deserves this moment. She’s the one who found Ezra. You don’t deserve him.

Despite the way it almost kills you to see Sabine steal your moment, you hang back. The ugly insecurities in you taunt and laugh as you watch them. You can’t escape the feeling that you’re an outsider looking in and intruding in a moment that you don’t deserve.

It feels like an eternity when the two of them finally separate. Sabine is smiling wide oblivious to your pain. Slowly, Ezra moves away from her and moves towards you instead. You force yourself to shove aside the familiar jealousy deciding that seeing Ezra again after a decade is worth more than the agony in your chest.

You meet Ezra halfway as he runs. Your own arms wrap around his frame and he all but picks you up to hold you close. He breathes out your name and you’re struck by how different he is.

Your hands shake as you press your palms to his face. He has a beard now, his cheeks are thin, no doubt from the lack of food, and there’s a certain maturity in his eyes that wasn’t there before-

But he’s Ezra.

Tears spill before you can stop them. His fingers wipe them away gently and his smile is bright. He says your name again like a sacred prayer.

“You’re alive,” you whisper. It’s the only sentence that you can form past the haze. Everything feels so surreal.

Ezra stands in front of you. The love of your life. The boy that had won you over ten years ago and never once let you go-

The one a part of you isn’t sure you deserve.

Ezra presses his forehead against yours. A familiar little habit he had back from when you were kids. A way to soothe you and reassure you that everything is going to be okay-

A sob breaks past your lips at the familiar action and you busy yourself burying your head in his chest. He holds you tighter to him. Underneath your palms, his heart races.

For a moment, every insecurity stops. The cold words you tell yourself over and over again in your head quiet for just this one moment. A sense of peace fills you and everything makes sense. For just a moment, all of the pain of the last decade goes away.

Ezra moves his head forward like he’s going to kiss you. He seems hesitant, unsure if he still has the right after a decade, and you want to meet him halfway-

But then Sabine interrupts the moment. She’s being herded by a Noti away and another one chirps out a different language to Ezra. You suddenly remember where you are you and draw back too fast. It feels maddening to separate from him after losing him for so long, but you think it’s better this way. It’s not like you deserve to kiss him after everything you’ve done.

The loss of him hurts like an open wound. You miss holding him. After ten years, you had given up hope of ever having that chance. It feels so cruel to lose it now-

And of course Sabine had to ruin this moment too. She’s always ruined everything for you. Perhaps she’s finally realized her feelings for Ezra and how better she is for him than you.

Your blood feels cold as you watch her grab his arm. She links their arms together and begins speaking. He gives you one last look over his shoulder before a Noti grabs your own arm to tug you forward. You are forced to trail after them feeling like a third wheel among their partnership. Something you’ve tended to always feel when the three of you are together.

They form a good team. It looks entirely natural for the two of them to be together. Sabine just makes sense at his side. She’s saved him after you’d given up, always been beside him throughout your time together as members of the Ghost, and was the first person he was ever interested in. It makes perfect sense for her to be the one with him.

A painful lump forms in your throat and you wave away the Noti’s concern when it curiously looks up at you. You trail silently through the village as Ezra begins to explain everything.

He tells you and Sabine pieces of his time here. He tells you how he and Thrawn made it here, how he ran from Thrawn and found the Noti by chance, and how he’s spent time with them since. They’re a peaceful people and have welcomed him into their ranks. He accompanies them on their travels, but he’s ready to come home.

He smiles at you both as he thanks you for coming back for him. He can’t wait to return to your galaxy and see Hera, Zeb, and Chopper.

Guilt grips you tightly. You don’t have the courage to admit that you had thought him lost. Had it not been for Sabine, he would have remained on this forsaken planet forever.

A coward to the end, you bite your tongue and hesitate at his words. When Ezra tries to move towards you, hand shyly reaching for your own, you move away as if his touch burns. You don’t think you deserve his gratefulness. Not with how awful you’ve been all these years.

It’s almost a relief when Sabine takes over. As much as it pains you to see her slowly replace you, you know you deserve it.

Before Ezra can ask you what’s wrong, you turn away and pretend to be busy with a Noti who is patching up something to the far side of the village. You turn your back on Sabine and Ezra and remain rigid as they walk away. Ezra keeps glancing back at you from time to time while Sabine urges him along to discuss things with him.

By the time they’re finally gone, you wander off further from the village and then promptly bury your head in your hands. The last of your strength leaves you and you sink to the ground below. The pain you’ve been suppressing returns in waves and you give in to the horrible voices that tell you what a terrible person you are and how you don’t deserve Ezra.

———————————————

By the time the sun sets, you’re a ticking time bomb. You’ve spent a long time wallowing in self pity. Everything aches as you make the trek back to the village.

The Noti are tiny, so it’s not hard to spot Sabine and Ezra. Ezra is holding something by the fire while Sabine messes with her vambrace. She seemingly hasn’t told Ezra about how the two of you are stuck here and how Ahsoka is dead.

When you get back, both of their attention is turned towards you. Ezra lights up and waves you over. He means to let you sit with them, but you quickly note that there’s no room. The Noti are half your size and don’t use large spaces. The log Ezra and Sabine sit at is out of room. You have no place beside Ezra with Sabine there.

Suppressing a grimace, you elect to remain standing.

“What are you two up to?” You ask. Your voice sounds colder than you intended, bitter.

Ezra looks at you and you evade his gaze. There’s something deep in his eyes that you don’t want to dwell too long on. He looks like he doesn’t quite know what to make of you. You have a feeling you aren’t who he remembers.

Good.

Maybe if he no longer recognizes you, he can give you a clean break. It’s become very apparent that you no longer belong at his side. Perhaps if he realizes he made a mistake in choosing you once upon a time, he can find someone better. The sooner he moves on the sooner you can kill what’s left of your broken heart.

Sabine is the one who answers. You’re quite frankly sick of her by then.

“I was telling Ezra everything’s that’s happened since he’s been gone. The Empire, Lothal, everything,” she responds.

Ezra awkwardly nods at her words. You feel a pit form in your stomach. Idly you wonder if Sabine has told Ezra how terrible you’ve been. Wonder if he knows you had given up on the hope of ever seeing him and tried to move on. Is that why he can’t seem to look at you anymore?

Anger and pain throb in your chest. You squeeze your jaw together.

The rest of the night passes far too quickly. Ezra and Sabine chat until the embers of the fire die down. You respond only when necessary and keep your remarks short.

Every once in a while, you think you see Ezra stealing glances at you but you ignore him. It feels like you’re having a terrible out of body experience. You’re so close to him, finally after mourning him for a decade, yet you know you have no right to rejoice at finding him. The guilt and jealousy you feel outweigh everything else.

It’s a mercy when the Noti begin to prepare to sleep. They offer the perfect excuse for the night to finally come to a close.

Ezra stands up and runs a hand through his hair.

“I sleep in the big room over there. It’s as human sized as you can get here. You both look exhausted. The journey here couldn’t have been easy. Why don’t you both take it? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept outside with the Noti,” Ezra offers.

“We can’t take your place-“

“I insist,” Ezra interrupts Sabine, “I’m used to camping out. The Noti constantly move from place to place seeking shelter so sometimes we have to rough it on the ground. It’s nothing unusual. You both can take it.”

Sabine glances at you with a nod of her head.

“Is that alright with you? You wanna share that tent with

me?” She asks.

Both Ezra and Sabine seem to be very interested in your answer. Ezra searches your face for something. You think there’s a question he’s longing to ask, something he’s dying to know, but he can’t bring himself to say it. It seems like he’s too afraid of whatever he thinks he’ll find or won’t find.

Truthfully, you don’t have the patience to speculate on what the two of them are trying to find out. It’s been a long day and you’ve suffered enough already.

You shrug, “Fine.”

A one word response. Sabine blinks and Ezra winces. There’s almost a flash of pain in his gaze before he looks away. You highly suspect that whatever test has just transpired, you’ve failed.

Sabine shares a glance with Ezra. You try to ignore the way the knife in your heart twists to see them communicate silently. Years apart and yet they seem to still know each other well enough to talk through simple glances and looks.

It’s all too much. You spin on your heel and march off mumbling some excuse about being exhausted.

Inside the metal tent, you close your eyes and count to ten. There’s a roar in your ears and a headache forming at the very back of your skull. You aren’t sure how much more this you can take. Already, it feels like you’re hitting a boiling point.

Everything feels terrible. The jealousy, the heartbreak, the anger, the guilt. All of it is becoming too much.

By the time Sabine returns, you’re at your limit. You don’t even flinch when she waves a hand in front of your face to test if you’re paying attention.

“What’s wrong?” She sounds concerned as she peers down at you, “You’ve been out of it all day. I thought you’d be really happy. I mean, we found Ezra-“

A scoff breaks out before you can stop it. You hate that she’s using the word “we.”There is no “we” here. It’s all her. It’s always been her. She’s the hero who saved Ezra. You’re the terrible ex girlfriend that abandoned him.

“I’m just tired,” you shrug. It’s a weak lie. She doesn’t seem to buy it as she presses you more.

“You’re not acting okay. I didn’t think you’d want to share a room with me. I thought you’d make an excuse to get out of it.”

Your eyes roll. She stops and stares at you as if finally realizing just how angry you are.

By now, the pain is cooling to anger. There’s a rage vibrating deep within you towards her. You’d love nothing more than to shut her up once and for all.

She calls your name with a frown. Concern and frustration are evident in her face.

“Seriously, is everything okay? Ezra wanted you to stay with him outside. He was waiting for you to ask to stay with him-“

“Well, didn’t you want to stay with him? You should have volunteered,” you tug angrily at your jacket. The fury is burning you from the inside. You feel like a star about to combust. It takes all of your strength to remain composed.

Sabine has the gall to look confused. She makes a face like she doesn’t get it. You aren’t sure whether she’s being coy or if she’s just dying to hear you spell it out to her.

“What are you talking about?” She moves to grab your arm. Perhaps she wants you to face her and explain why you’re suddenly so angry, “You hurt him, you know. He doesn’t know where he stands with you. You haven’t spoken to him or made a move. He’s scared you’ve moved on-“

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll comfort him. You’ve been much better for him than me,” you bite.

Again, there’s a moment of confusion. By now, Sabine herself is growing frustrated with your attitude. It seems she can’t wrap her head around why you’re so upset.

“What is wrong with you? Seriously. You finally get Ezra back and you just ice him out-“

Something snaps. The anger you’ve been suppressing spills forward like a dam. Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you’re shoving her as hard as you can away from you. There’s a sense of satisfaction in the way you take her by surprise. She’s much stronger than you, yet you manage to make her slam into the metal walls. Her armor makes a satisfying thud when it collides against them.

“Oh, shut up, Sabine!”

You move to shove her again, rage boiling over.

It’s all too much. Every negative emotion you’ve been feeling since Sabine unlocked the map where you failed has spilled over. You feel like a bomb exploding. You aren’t a violent person, yet you find yourself pushing her again.

This time, she’s ready for you. Her eyes are wide and there’s shock in her voice when she calls your name. She grabs your wrist and twists you around until she’s holding your arms in place. A move you had only ever seen her do on stormtroopers.

“Maker, what’s wrong-?”

Her voice trails off in shock as you shove off her hold. You press your hands to your face feeling adrenaline course through your veins. It burns white hot against your skin. You swear you feel your blood boiling.

“Do you know how sick I am of you?” You jab a finger at the center of her chest plate, “You just have to rub everything in. I get it, alright? I get that you’re better than me. You have always been better at everything. I never stood a chance.”

You back away from her suddenly feeling like you’re boxed in. The anger is coursing red hot but there’s something else there. It’s all consuming and harsh. You feel it practically strangling you.

While you are threatened by Sabine’s presence, some part of you knows it’s not just her that’s causing this outburst. Really, it’s more than that. A part of you is just angry with yourself.

It’s yourself you despise. Had it not been for Sabine, Ezra would have been stuck here forever. You had given up on ever finding him. For all your promises of loving him years ago, you had simply given up. He would have never have given up on you.

Spinning around, you press your fists against your eyelids to try and stop the tears forming behind your eyes.

“You found him. I gave up on him,” you whisper. It’s a harsh admission out loud, “You’re better than me. He deserves better. He deserves you.”

Sabine is stunned. She blinks and makes a face like she can’t believe what you just said. You don’t have it in you to explain. The anger is slowly becoming despair. You want nothing more than to just curl up into a ball and die.

“What? I-Do you-Is that what this is about? You think I have feelings for Ezra?” She takes you by the shoulders and holds you steady.

You’re shaking, you realize. Your hands are quivering and your breath is coming out in short pants. A panic attack.

“Don’t you?” You bite the inside of your cheek to quell the rising panic. Your chest feels too tight. It constricts against your clothing, “It’s okay if you do. He’s always liked you. You could make him happier. You didn’t give up on him like I did.”

It hurts to say everything out loud. You don’t think you could survive seeing Sabine with Ezra. It would break whatever remnants of your heart are still working, but you wouldn’t stand in their way. Ezra deserves to be happy and you’re not the person that can give that to him. If Sabine can, then she should. It would break you, but you deserve it. An atonement for your sins.

Sabine calls out your name. She pulls your arms away from your face and shakes her head firmly. She looks stunned and hurt. She’s hurt by your words.

“I don’t like Ezra romantically. He’s a brother to me. That’s it. He loves you-“

You close your eyes against the rising panic. It takes all your willpower to remember how to breathe. It feels like something has gotten a hold of your body. You feel everything mounting until it bursts. Emotions and words pour out of you. You aren’t sure just what you’re saying. Everything feels like it’s happening far away.

“He had a crush on you first. He didn’t even look at me until he realized you weren’t interested. I always knew I was his second choice. I was always so angry with you. You two spent so much time together. I was always just counting the days until he left me for you. You two just fit together. Ten years later and you two can just go back to being close. I don’t know how I could ever face him knowing that I gave up-“

The feeling of choking returns. You press your hand to your chest feeling like your lungs will give out. There’s a painful squeeze to your heart. Is this what a heart attack feels like-?

Suddenly someone is taking you gently by the shoulders. Familiar hands press against your face cradling you softly. You hear your name whispered in a low voice. You know who it is without even opening your eyes.

Ezra.

“Hey, breathe. Breathe with me,” he whispers. He shows you some deep breaths. His arms hold you in place firmly but not tightly. It’s his way of showing you that he’s here. That you’re not alone.

Slowly you try and copy his breaths. It’s a struggle to do it. It feels like every painful gasp of air you inhale rattles against your lungs. It takes much longer than it should to finally regulate your breathing.

By the time the panic attack is finally underway, you feel exhausted. There’s a heaviness to your body you haven’t felt in a while. You’re shaking as Ezra slowly moves you towards a makeshift bed. He eases you gently into a sitting position. Idly, you realize that Sabine is inching out of the encampment probably wanting to give you and Ezra space to talk.

“Are you okay? Do you need water? A blanket?” Ezra kneels to be eye level with you. His eyes are concerned, scared for you.

It’s not fair. He’s the one who’s been lost for ten years, yet here he is worried about you. You don’t deserve him.

That’s what finally does you in. You begin to sob and press your hands firmly to your face. The tears pour out of you. It’s been a long ten years. Everything just shatters.

In the last decade, you’ve cried more times than you want to admit. Grief has been a friend for ages. You’ve cried until you had nothing more to give, yet this breakdown feels different. There’s a war or emotions pouring out of you. Anger, grief, jealousy, insecurity, pain. They rush over you in waves to the point where you feel like you’re being physically crushed under the weight of them.

Ezra wraps his arms around you and lets you cry against his shoulder. He holds you firmly in place whispering words of encouragement. You don’t deserve it. You weakly fight against his hold.

Words spill forth in a whisper before you even realize half of what you’re saying. There’s just a frantic need to pour everything out. The admissions slip from your tongue without truly registering in your brain. You just need him to understand why he should hate you.

“I gave up on ever finding you. I spent an entire year unable to get out of bed. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t think. Every little thing reminded me of you. I thought I was going to go insane. Everyone was worried about me. Hera had just had Jacen, yet she was taking care of me instead of her newborn. It felt horrible to worry everyone. At some point, I just had to let you go. I told myself you were dead and mourned you. I needed the closure so I gave up. If you were gone forever, then I could slowly move forward. I didn’t want to but it was breaking me. Thinking that you were out here somewhere was driving me insane.”

Ezra holds you tighter at your admission. You’re not sure but you swear you think you can hear him say he’s sorry. It’s heartbreaking for him to apologize. He’s the one that you’ve wronged.

“I couldn’t move on from you. I tried dating again a few years after you were gone but never made it past the first or second date. Everyone was all wrong. They just weren’t you. I kept telling myself that you were gone and that I should move on, but I couldn’t. I was driving myself crazy with grief. I even had a falling out with Sabine. Sabine kept searching for you. She never stopped. She’s the one who found you. Had it not been for her, you would have been lost forever. She’s better than me. You deserve better,” you force yourself to look at his eyes and are shocked when you see that he’s crying too. You never meant to hurt him but the confessions keep pouring out, “I know you liked her first. You only started dating me because she didn’t like you back. I told myself all these years that, that was okay. I loved you enough to be your second choice. Then these last ten years happened and they made me realize that I don’t deserve you. I gave up on you. She didn’t. She-you both make perfect sense. You just click with each other. She’s a better choice for you. I love you, but I know you’d be happier with her. She was your first choice after all.”

Now that everything is out, you feel tired. You bury your face in his shoulder and feel the way his heart is racing. His body feels tense as he lets all your words sink in.

“What? Do you think I like Sabine?” He sounds stunned. Gently, he pulls you away so that he can look at your eyes.

His eyes are red and there’s tears running down his face. He looks heartbroken. He calls your name softly and his voice cracks.

“You’re not my second choice, Maker. I’ve loved you for over a decade. It’s always been you. I admired Sabine when we were kids, but I always saw her as a sister. That’s all she is. You’re the one I’ve loved all these years. I dreamt of you every night, I tried using the force to find you whenever I meditated, the thought of you has kept me going all these years. It’s you that kept me alive. Any time I wanted to give up, I remembered you and everyone else back home and that kept me going. You were never my second choice. You’ve always been my only love. Always,” his fingers wipe away your tears and his breath stutters, “I thought you’d moved on. You didn’t want to spend time around me. You pulled away when I tried to kiss you. I thought you didn’t care me for me anymore. I was going to accept that. It’s been ten years. You didn’t know I was still alive. If you had moved on and married someone else, I would have never held it against you. Don’t blame yourself for needing to move forward.”

“You wouldn’t have given up on me. Ezra, you would have been lost without Sabine. I thought you were gone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Ezra would have never given up hope. He would have kept searching until the very end. You didn’t.

His hold on you tightens.

“Ten years. I was gone for ten years. I don’t blame you for thinking I was dead. Maker, the ship had lost its airlock. I thought I was going to die when we hit hyperspace. You had no way of knowing I was alive. Sabine said you all only thought I was still alive when Ahsoka heard rumors about Thrawn returning. There’s no way anyone could have predicted I was in another galaxy,” he says.

You keep your eyes closed.

The rumors about Thrawn’s return are what had made this entire search possible. You had dropped everything when Hera and Ahsoka had commed you and rushed back to help the search. Sabine was steps ahead of you which hurts to admit, but you had rushed back to help.

Wearily, you think of everything you’ve done so far.

You think of how Ahsoka refused to train you in favor of Sabine because she said you were ‘too attached’ to be open to the force. You think of how you couldn’t open the map and had spent hours turning it every which way until your fingers had cramped and bled trying to pry it open. You remember that terrible moment where Shin and Baylan had you cornered, how they had offered you and Sabine passage to Ezra in exchange for the map. Logic would have had you destroy the map and prevent Thrawn from ever returning. Ahsoka would have wanted it that way, yet you had hesitated too. Your brain had said you needed to destroy it, but your heart had frozen. Destroying it meant never finding Ezra. You had let Sabine take over on that choice and hadn’t protested when she handed the map over. You’re sure now you would have made the same choice albeit not as fast as her.

As if sensing where your thoughts are going, Ezra places his forehead to yours. His way for reassuring you.

“I don’t blame you for anything. I’m sorry I hurt you all these years. If you’ve moved on, I get it. Just please don’t feel guilty you had to think I was dead to survive. Forgive yourself,” he urges.

You snap your eyes open startled.

“Ezra, I’ve never moved on. I love you. I have for all these years. I was just too guilty to express it. Sabine found you. I gave up. You deserve better. The two of you could-“

Suddenly Ezra dives forward. His lips press to yours and he holds you in place tightly. You make a sound of surprise before giving in.

It feels like something between you clicks. The world stops and everything feels so natural as you kiss him back. It’s been ten years since you’ve last been able to hold him. You don’t think you can survive another ten without him. You barely made it through these last few years.

He feels like home. After all the suffering and the self loathing, kissing him feels like everything is falling into place.

After a long kiss that takes your breath away, he withdraws. His breath is a harsh pant. His beard tickles your face as he presses smaller kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You cling to him tighter and take in the feeling of being in his arms again.

“I love you,” he breathes out, “It’s only ever been you. Please don’t say you don’t deserve me. You kept me alive all these years. It’s always been you.”

The last of your energy snaps. You feel so painfully exhausted. You cling to him tightly and let him move you back to the bed. He climbs in next to you and holds you to him as if he’s afraid to let you go.

Everything you’ve been through today makes you feel so tired. You want nothing more than to go to sleep and come back to this tomorrow. You don’t have the energy to keep going today.

Thankfully, Ezra doesn’t withdraw. Instead, he climbs into the bed next to you and holds you close. All of those terrible voices in your head quiet when he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You close your eyes feeling everything fading. The two of you aren’t done discussing this. He still needs to know that you love him too and that you are sorry for everything that’s happened. You also will have to apologize to Sabine tomorrow. It’s not her fault your own insecurities turned against her.

Still, for now, this moment feels like peace.

You curl into his arms and hold him tight the way you used to when you were young. He holds you to him and refuses to let you go. In a low whisper, you tell him you love him. As you drift off, you hear him say it back.

And for the first time in ten years, you finally feel a semblance of peace.

#reblogging this again #hi I miss Ezra Bridger-#<33333 #m a n-#< / 3

288 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 22 days ago

Text

Haven’t read a Keith Kogane x reader fanfic in SO L O N G, oml-

This was so- <33333

Did I tear up a few times?? Yes, yes I definitely did-

I love the way it was also all of the paladins and Keith’s love for the reader too!!

Platonic and Romantic relationships my beloveds- <33333

ripped / k. kogane

keith kogane x reader

summary: you lost something of great importance of you during a mission. it may seem trivial, but then why is it ripping you from the iside out? a/n: this is my first time writing for keith. but i've been in love with him since i was 13, which is crazy. i remember i discovered the 1975 (which is now part of my personality) thanks to a keith kogane fanfiction on wattpad. not proofread. 5.9k words. no use of y/n.

You didn’t say a word on the way back.

Not when the mission ended. Not when the comms fizzled out, and you gave the signal for pickup. Not when Keith called your name—twice, softly, then louder—but you turned your back to him and faced the cargo wall instead.

He didn’t push. He never did when you shut down like this. His instinct was always to observe first, wait until you were ready. That was one of the things that made being with Keith… easy, even in the middle of war. He never asked you to be stronger than you were.

But right now, you wished someone would ask. Demand it of you. Then maybe, you would feel better about it. I wasn’t like you lost an arm or a leg. You walked away unscathed. But then, why did it feel like a part of you had been ripped away?

When you entered the meeting room, everyone was already there. Of course they were, you had to stay back for a moment, regain your strength for what was coming.

The room was cold. Not physically — the Castle’s systems regulated temperature perfectly — but emotionally. Sterile. Bright. Clinical.

Shiro stood tall, poised and commanding as always. Lance tried to make a joke the moment you entered, something about how you were going without dinner tonight due to losing your race. You didn’t laugh.

Your report had been sent in through the team channel, dry and factual. You’d completed the mission. Escaped. Neutralized the threat. But even as Allura outlined the results, there was a tension in the air. A current. Something everyone felt but didn’t understand

After a moment, she congratulated you on a successful mission. That was brief, however, for not a moment later she was already projecting a map of the next galaxy. You weren’t sure exactly what for, everything was muffled and distant.

“You alright?” Keith whispered next to you. You felt his hand secretly reaching out for yours, but as if it carried electricity, yours flinched away immediately.

He was hurt by this, you could tell by how his head sharply turned to look at you, his brow furrowed in concern. He was trying to make out your expression, but he couldn’t not with your helmet still on.

Allura turned to you, you could tell she knew something was wrong. “Paladin. Is there anything you’d like to report?”

You didn’t answer.

Your breath echoed faintly inside your helmet, each inhale shallow and too loud in your ears. Everyone was waiting, eyes on you now. You could feel it. The room felt too small.

“Paladin?” Allura prompted again, her voice gentler this time. Not as a commander, but as someone who knew now something was incredibly wrong.

Still, you said nothing.

Instead, with slow, deliberate hands, you reached up for your helmet, which came off with a sharp hiss.

You lifted it off, carefully, like if you made the wrong motion, you might shatter.

The air hit your skin.

And then they saw.

The sharp inhale was audible.

Your hair—your long, memory-woven hair—was gone. Cropped close in uneven layers. Frayed, burned at the ends. A choppy, desperate cut.

The beads were gone too. Dozens of them—each one added in remembrance. Each one a story. A piece of your soul.

You’d worn your hair like a tapestry of your people. You were known for it—thick, lustrous, flowing past your waist, decorated with vibrant beads to honor the fallen, to carry their memory forward. In your culture, hair was sacred. It was said to hold memories. Spirit. When someone passed, you wove their bead into your strands so they could journey with you.

Now… now you were empty.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, trailing silently over the grime and ash that clung to your skin.

That was the only crack in your armor. The only sign that inside, you were screaming.

No one spoke.

Pidge’s eyes widened, mouth slightly parted in shock.

Hunk’s expression crumbled instantly.

Lance’s joke died completely on his lips. He looked stricken. Like the ground had shifted beneath him.

Shiro stepped forward—but only a fraction. His brows knit in quiet sorrow, like he was watching a soldier relive a battlefield.

And Allura—

Allura understood first.

You saw it in the soft parting of her lips, the subtle tremble in her voice when she whispered, “Your hair…”

It wasn’t vanity. It was history. It was grief and blood and names woven into each strand.

“I had to,” you said, finally. Voice hollow.

You faintly heard Allura whisper your name as she stepped down and went to comfort you.

“He grabbed me,” you said next, your voice now coming back to you. As if up until this moment you had been on autopilot, and now, with Allura’s hands softly holding on to your elbow, you had been brought back to reality. “He wouldn’t let go, and he was pulling me toward—” your voice broke.

You remembered the fire, how the flames had drawn closer and closer as you thrashed against the Galran soldier’s hold. The smoke clawing into your lungs. The burn of the heat licking at your boots.

“I could feel it,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly. “The heat. It was right there. I saw it—my hair—starting to catch. Just the ends, but—”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly it was like it wasn’t just memory anymore. It was happening again.

“I—I didn’t even cut it clean. It just ripped.” You looked up, finally meeting their eyes. “Some of it fell in. Into the fire.”

That’s when it hit.

Not just the grief. Not just the shock.

The loss.

The kind that hollowed you out from the inside.

Your knees buckled. You dropped your helmet to the floor with a dull clang, and Keith caught you before you hit your knees.

You didn’t mean to cry.

But the sob that tore from your throat was raw and unfiltered, full of every unspoken goodbye that had burned in that fire.

“My family was in there,” you gasped, barely audible.

You couldn’t stop the way your body shook—grief like a tide pulling you under, dragging you deeper with every crashing wave.

Keith held you like he could keep you tethered to the surface.

He didn’t flinch at your weight. Didn’t hesitate for a second when you broke apart in his arms. His voice was in your ear—quiet, grounding murmurs, like he was trying to stitch you back together one word at a time. But it sounded far away, drowned out by the millions of voices you had lost.

You barely registered Shiro’s hand on your shoulder, steady and warm. Or the way Allura knelt beside you, gently brushing some of the ash-matted strands from your forehead.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Shiro said softly. “Come on. You don’t have to be strong right now.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure you could walk.

Keith helped you to your feet, never letting go. Your legs were trembling—rubbery and weak, like they no longer belonged to you—but between the three of them, you didn’t fall again. Shiro braced one side. Allura the other. And Keith stayed pressed to your back, arms never straying far in case you slipped again.

The rest of the team made space without a word.

The walk to your room felt longer than it was. A walk of shame.

When the door slid open, you hesitated on the threshold.

This was your room.

But you didn’t feel the same.

Like the part of you who used to live here, was still out there, stuck in the fire.

Keith noticed your hesitation. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t even nod. Just stepped in, and he followed behind you without asking.

Allura touched your arm. “We’ll give you space. But we’re right here if you need anything.”

You didn’t have the strength to say thank you. But the way your eyes flicked to her said enough.

Then the door hissed shut behind them.

You didn’t know what to do. You stood there for a long moment, afraid that attempting to take a step in any direction would make you crumble again.

Your head raced with thoughts. What were you supposed to do now? Everything seemed pointless and futile. Everything but, just standing there. Maybe if you didn’t move ever again, you wouldn’t feel the weightlessness that now clung to you like a ghost.

Wash your face?

You imagined the water running through your hands—cold, clean, normal—and recoiled at the thought. You didn’t want to see your face in the mirror. Not with your hair like this. Not when you looked like someone else. Not when your reflection would only ask the same questions you didn’t have answers to.

Change out of your armor?

But your armor was the only thing still on you that hadn’t burned. The only thing still whole. Without it, you'd just be a silhouette. Empty fabric. No weight.

Lie down?

Your bed looked too soft. Like it would swallow you if you touched it. And what would you even do there—close your eyes and pretend this hadn’t happened? The second you tried to rest, you knew your mind would replay it all. The fire. The tearing. The smoke.

You shifted on your feet, arms stiff at your sides.

None of it made sense anymore. Not your routine. Not the comfort objects in your room. Not the beads that used to hang above your headboard—they weren’t there. You’d taken them down days ago to add more, and never had the chance. Now there was nothing. Just bare string. Mocking you.

Keith hadn’t said anything. He stood a few steps behind you, unmoving, like he knew you needed space to let the panic settle. But he was watching—carefully. Quietly.

You didn’t cry again. You couldn’t. You were past that now. Wrung dry.

But your breath kept catching in your chest in that uneven way. Like your body was trying to remember how to exist with the hole that had been carved out of you.

Keith stepped forward once.

You didn’t react.

Then again, slowly. He didn’t reach for you this time. Didn’t try to hold you or say something that would only echo off the walls of your detachment. Instead, his hand gently ghosted past yours and landed lightly at the small of your back.

Not pressure.

Just presence.

And that, somehow, was worse. It made the ache deeper. Realer.

Your shoulders sank. You didn’t want to move—but you also couldn’t stay standing. Your body was catching up to the exhaustion your mind had been trying to outrun.

He felt it. The way you started to sway. The way your weight shifted, not with intention, but surrender.

Keith didn’t speak. He just guided.

Slowly, he led you to the bed. One step at a time. Not rushed, not forceful. When your knees touched the edge of the mattress, you stopped again.

He gave you time.

And when you sat—mechanically, like it wasn’t even a decision you made—he knelt in front of you, hands still careful and light as if you might shatter on contact.

You stared past him, eyes glassy and unfocused. Then, finally, you sank down sideways, lying on your side atop the blankets, still in armor, still dusty and singed and stiff. You didn’t care.

You didn’t say a word.

Keith didn’t either.

He sat at the edge of the bed beside you, one hand resting lightly near yours, not quite touching.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Your eyes stayed open. Blinking slowly. Chest rising and falling with a shallow rhythm.

And Keith stayed there, quiet and grounded, like he knew this wasn’t something he could fix. He wasn’t trying to. He was just… here.

He looked at you only when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You did. And you stared back.

The castle felt quieter lately.

Not in the way it powered down during travel, or in the way voices hushed before missions. This was a different quiet. One that settled between the walls like dust—unnoticed by most, but heavy all the same.

You hadn’t said much since that night. You answered when spoken to. Ate enough not to raise concern. Trained, but not like before. You moved like your body had weight, but no momentum.

And always, after lights-out, you disappeared to the observatory deck.

Alone.

Tonight was no different.

You sat by the curved window in a tucked-away alcove, knees pulled loosely to your chest, armor swapped out for a simple pajama. The stars shimmered outside, scattered like the beads that used to line your hair.

You traced your fingers over the cropped ends again. They still felt foreign. The edges rough, not yet healed. It had grown a fraction already, but it made you feel worse. Like every inch of regrowth only reminded you how much was gone.

You had stopped crying. But that didn’t mean the ache was gone. It had just gone deeper. Quieter.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous.

Because it was just hair.

Just hair.

Not an arm like Shiro.

Not a family like Pidge.

Not a voice that once belonged to a home.

But every time your mind circled back to the loss, to the weight in your chest, a fresh wave of guilt followed.

You were mourning hair.

You were the last of your people.

The last to carry the sacred tradition of beads woven into memory.

The last to bear witness.

And yet… here you were. Grieving strands of keratin. Beads. Memory tokens.

You tried to push the grief down.

Everyone here had scars heavier than yours, traumas stitched into their bones.

You felt guilty for mourning. Like you were taking up space in the pain room that someone else needed more.

A whisper of movement behind you made you stiffen.

You didn’t look up.

Allura’s voice followed, soft and deliberate. “You shouldn’t be alone every night.”

You didn’t answer.

She didn’t ask to sit—just joined you, her legs folding gracefully beneath her, gaze out toward the stars.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Eventually, she asked, “Do you know what we did with hair on Altea?”

You blinked, surprised.

“I—I assume it was similar to my home. Symbolic.”

She smiled faintly. “It was more than that. Like your people, we believed hair was sacred. A physical connection to memory. When someone passed, their hair was kept by their closest kin. Not hidden away—but braided into ceremonial ribbons. Worn when the time came to remember them.”

Your throat tightened.

“I keep thinking,” you said hoarsely, “that I should be over it.”

Allura turned, eyebrows gently lifting.

“It was just hair.”

Her gaze didn’t soften.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t. And you know that.”

You looked away again. “But it wasn’t an arm. Or a home planet. Or a family.”

“It was your family,” Allura said firmly. “The way you carried them. The way you honored them. Those beads… they were your history. You didn’t just lose strands. You lost a tether.”

You bit your lip, eyes stinging. She wasn’t coddling you. She was telling the truth. And somehow, that hurt more than anything else had these past few days.

“I feel so empty,” you admitted, voice barely there.

“You are mourning,” Allura replied. “Not the way others have. Not for the same things. But what you lost mattered.”

You stayed quiet, but the shaking of your shoulders betrayed you.

Allura reached out slowly, brushing a piece of your short hair behind your ear. Her touch lingered, not to fix you, but to ground you.

“When your heart breaks,” she said softly, “the pieces don’t care how big the reason was. They fall just the same.”

You leaned your forehead to the glass, breathing in shaky gulps.

“I don’t know how to carry them anymore,” you whispered. “The ones I lost.”

Allura’s voice was calm. “You already are.”

Days started blurring into each other as you tried to get back to your normal routine.

Everything felt like a drag. The most miniscule of tasks often taking the longest.

However, there was a constant in your life. A steady unwavering presence, keeping you anchored — Keith.

He never asked. He never forced conversation. Sometimes he simply sat across the room, tracing constellations on the wall with a finger or sharpening his knives, letting silence fill the space between you

He didn’t crowd you with words or demands. Instead, he stayed quiet, steady—like the ground beneath your feet when the world threatened to spin out of control.

He was there when you woke, when you stared blankly at your reflection, when your fingers absentmindedly traced the ragged edges of your hair.

He was there when you sat on the balcony, shoulders tight, eyes hollow..

You knew he meant well.

Keith always did.

But the way he lingered in doorways, the way he subtly followed you when you wandered too far from the main halls, the way he kept glancing at you when you took too long to answer a question—it all built up like pressure behind your ribs.

Like everyone was walking on glass around you.

Like you were glass.

And for what? For hair? For something so stupid?

You couldn’t even get through a workout without someone checking if you were overdoing it. Or see a hallway conversation quiet down when you walked past. Everyone tiptoeing around your grief like it was something delicate, when all it felt like was rage.

It happened in the training deck.

You missed a shot, something you normally would’ve brushed off with a grunt and a quip.

But Keith stepped closer instead. Not saying anything—just hovering, brows drawn in concern.

And you snapped.

“What?” you barked.

He froze.

“I didn’t—”

You turned around sharply, your blade retracting as you did. “You didn’t have to, I can feel it. You hover over me, like I’m a porcelain doll. Like I’ll break at any moment.”

Keith’s mouth opened slightly. He didn't speak. You didn’t let him.

“But I won’t, okay? Not over this ridiculous, pointless thing that doesn’t even matter.”

Your eyes were burning.

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

You felt like a bomb, something that would explode at any moment. And your better judgement told you that Keith should not be collateral damage. So you pushed him away.

“Just stop looking at me like that,” you hissed, voice trembling.

“Like what?” His voice was low and steady.

“Like I’m fragile. Like you’re waiting for me to crack open.”

Keith didn’t move. His eyes searched yours, but you couldn’t tell what for. Answers? Patience? Understanding?

You hated it.

You hated how still he was. How gentle he was.

Because it made you feel like you weren’t allowed to be angry.

And you were. God, you were so angry.

“At least yell back,” you snapped. “Say something. Tell me I’m being stupid. Because I am. This was just hair. Just—” Your voice broke, and your hands clenched at your sides. “Just hair. You’re thinking it. Everyone in this stupid place is.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now. They came fast, stinging hot trails down your cheeks.

You turned away, scrubbing angrily at your face, but the tears kept coming—faster now, messier. The kind that made your chest hitch in a way you couldn’t control.

You hated that most of all.

Your grief had been so quiet for days. It sat inside you like a stone. Heavy. Still.

But now it had cracked open, and everything ugly and loud and furious was spilling out.

“I can’t even be upset without it feeling like a performance,” you gasped, voice raw. “Everyone keeps acting like I lost a limb or a loved one and I—I cut my hair, Keith.”

The silence that followed made you want to scream. You spun on him, wild-eyed. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!”

“Because you’re hurting,” he said simply. “And I don’t want to take that from you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Like cold water.

You tried to claw back at the anger in you. You could feel it receding, fading into your chest, and you desperately wanted it back. Because at least that way you wouldn't feel so numb all the time.

Your face scrunched, as if you were about to snarl at him. Instead you let out a loud groan and threw your weapon across the room, as you threw yourself against the nearest wall. You slid down, palms pressing against your eyes.

Your knees didn’t buckle this time, but you wished they had. At least then it would’ve felt like someone else was forcing you to fall.

But it was just you. You, finally crumbling under everything you'd buried.

Keith didn’t speak. He just stepped forward and sat next to you.

You allowed silence to settle between you two. Only being filled by the sound of your sobs and shakes. You felt so extremely pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered eventually, voice paper-thin. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just…”

Keith didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. He sat cross-legged beside you, shoulder barely brushing yours, like any more pressure might break the air between you.

“I don’t know who I am without it,” you said. “It wasn’t just hair. I know it sounds dumb, but it wasn’t. I grew up with it, Keith. My mom braided it. My brother braided it. My birthdays, every solstice, every loss…it was all there.”

Your throat closed on you. You let out a shaky breath.

You looked down at your hands. At the calluses, the small tremors, the smudge of sweat and training deck dust across your palms. You clenched them hard.

“It was the one part of me that still felt like home.”

Keith was quiet for a while. Then, softly: “I don’t think it’s dumb.”

You hummed, not daring to look at him yet. You pressed your knees against your chest. Maybe if you made yourself small enough, the pain wouldn’t have enough space to thrive.

“I think it’s brave,” he said. “The way you carry people with you.”

You turned your head to find his eyes were already fixed on you.

“I didn’t know how to help,” he went on, slower now. “But I didn’t want to leave you alone either. So I stayed. I guess… I just hoped it was enough.”

Your lip trembled again. You wanted to say something. Thank him perhaps. But every time you tried to open your mouth, more tears spilled.

Before you could say anything, Keith reached into his pocket.

“I didn’t know when to give these to you.”

Carefully, like he was handing over something fragile, he unwrapped a piece of cloth.

Three beads lay in the center.

Charred. Smoke-stained. But still whole.

“I found them in the wreckage,” he said. “Recognized them. I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t even know if I should say anything. But I kept them.”

You stared at them. Your breath caught in your throat.

You reached out slowly, brushing your fingers over the beads. They were warm from his pocket. Worn smooth by memory.

You took them in your palm like they were sacred.

Another cry escaped your throat. You pressed them against your lips. “These were my brothers’.”

Keith’s gaze lowered to analyze the two beads you were pointing at. Your finger moved to pick up the third bead and you lifted it up to eye-level. You laughed a teary-laugh.

“This was for when we got our pet. I was seven.”

You allowed yourself to cry for them for a moment longer. Covering them with the cloth, you didn’t want them to be stained by your grief.

“Thank you,” you said after a while, and it sounded broken.

Keith didn’t reply. He just gently reached out, pinkie extended.

You didn’t hesitate this time as you intertwined your fingers together.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t leave.

Something was different the next morning.

You couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t that the weight was gone—grief didn’t vanish overnight—but the pressure that had been sitting on your chest for days… had shifted.

For the longest time, you felt as if it had been looming over you— a suffocating cloud of darkness that would not let you breathe properly.

But on this particular morning, you found grief sitting next to you. As if it was an old friend.

Keith had stayed with you again. Fell asleep in the chair beside your bed, head tipped slightly forward, arms crossed in that way he always sat—like he was half-ready to jump into battle if needed. The dim blue glow of the castle lights painted his face soft and muted.

He hadn’t spoken much last night after giving you the beads.

He hadn’t needed to.

He stayed. That was enough.

You slipped quietly out of bed, padded into the bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror.

Your reflection didn’t surprise you anymore. The rough, jagged edges of your hair had become familiar. You’d stopped flinching. Stopped looking away.

But this morning… for the first time, you reached for the brush.

The bristles caught in places. Snagged on the uneven strands. You worked carefully, untangling them one by one. You didn't rush. There was no one watching, no one expecting. Just you, in your own time.

When the tangles were gone, you stared for a while. Just breathed.

Then, slowly, you parted a section of hair behind your right ear.

Fingers steady.

You began to braid.

The motion was instinct. Muscle memory.

Over. Under. Over again.

And when you reached halfway down, you paused.

You walked back into the room and opened the drawer where you'd carefully placed them the night before.

The beads Keith had saved.

You threaded them onto the end of the braid, fingers slow but sure.

They clicked gently together. Familiar.

You tied it off with a scrap of twine.

Then you turned to the other side and braided again—smaller this time, nothing fancy. You weren’t trying to recreate what you’d lost. Just… carry it forward.

Two braids. Simple. Steady.

You didn’t cry.

But you smiled.

Just barely.

For a moment, you felt anger resurface in your chest again at the reflection. The smile felt fake and forced.

You closed your eyes, breathed deeply and tried again.

You didn’t force it to reach your eyes, you didn’t even show your teeth. But it felt like a step in the right direction.

You heard Keith stir behind you. After a brief moment he joined you in the bathroom, standing behind you, assessing your reflection. He blinked sleepily, eyes still heavy with rest.

He smiled before leaning over you. Resting his head on your shoulder and pressing a small kiss on your cheek.

It didn’t happen all at once.

You didn’t wake up suddenly fine. No one expected you to.

But day by day, moment by moment, things began to shift.

It started the day you braided your hair again.

You walked into the dining hall for breakfast—not late, not hiding—and the room went quiet. Not like before, when everyone froze in shock or uncertainty. This time, it was reverent.

Because they saw the beads.

You sat beside Pidge without saying anything.

She just offered you a slice of toast with a nod, and you took it.

That was enough.

Later that evening, you joined them again. This time, for game night.

It was Lance who noticed first. His head snapped up when you entered, already in the middle of dramatically losing to Hunk in a trivia round.

He opened his mouth, probably to say something extremely Lance, but for once—he didn’t.

Instead, he offered you a seat beside him.

“You’re just in time to lose horribly,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that like it’s new.”

Laughter bubbled around the table. It wasn’t the loudest or brightest night—but it was the first one that felt normal again.

You didn’t hide after that.

You showed up for training. You helped Pidge fix a communication relay. You teased Keith under your breath during sparring, and he smirked that tiny smirk of his in return.

You still had hard days. Quiet mornings. Moments where the grief crawled up your throat unexpectedly. But you let yourself feel them now. You didn’t bottle them up.

You welcomed it in. Like an old friend who had been hurting just like you. You tried to sit with it as long as possible.

Slowly, it got easier.

You found that keeping a routine helped you. Small moments during the day you could rely on. At night, when the castle had gone mostly quiet, you stepped out onto the observatory deck.

The stars stretched overhead in waves—endless, cold, beautiful. Your eyes flicked up to them instinctively, mapping constellations you’d memorized as a child. Looking for home, even if it wasn’t there anymore.

You heard footsteps behind you but didn’t turn.

“I figured you’d be here,” Keith said softly, joining you at the railing. “You always are, after game night.”

You shrugged. “Old habits.”

He leaned beside you, his presence steady and unintrusive.

You were quiet together for a while, just watching.

You glanced at him, eyes soft. “Thanks for not disappearing.”

He looked at you like that was the strangest thing you could’ve said. “I never planned to.”

You both went quiet again, the silence this time not heavy, but peaceful.

Eventually, you took a deep breath, and reached up to touch the braid just behind your ear. The beads clicked softly against your fingers.

“I think I’ll add another braid tomorrow,” you said.

Keith glanced over, his mouth quirking slightly. “Yeah?”

“Something to look forward to. I’ll make it a wish, and I’ll keep it with me.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, then drifted back to the stars.

“Good,” he said. “You deserve those too.”

It became a quiet tradition after that.

For every mission completed, for every planet visited, for every birthday, for every night you let yourself laugh again—another bead was added.

Some were simple. Others glittered with strange materials from alien markets. A few you carved yourself, late at night with a scalpel and a steady hand, shaping memory into something tangible.

Your hair grew longer by the week—awkward at first, the regrowth uneven and unruly—but you didn’t hide it. You wore it loose more often now, sometimes in partial braids, other times pulled back with old cords or woven bands.

Each bead had meaning.

For your brothers.

For the night you started to feel like yourself again.

For the planet with twin moons and singing trees.

For the day Pidge built you a scanner that could record constellations and name them after anything you wanted.

They were yours.

And you carried them with quiet pride.

That night, you were late to dinner. You’d been helping Coran fix a glitch in the water filtration system (which was mostly him gesturing wildly and you pretending to understand the nonsense he was spewing).

As you made your way toward the dining hall, you heard it—hushed voices, hurried shuffling, then an unnatural stillness.

You paused just outside the door, frowning.

Then stepped in.

The silence was immediate.

Allura froze mid-step. Hunk nearly dropped a spoon. Lance blinked like you’d caught him sneaking something. Pidge’s face was unreadable. Keith was at the edge of the room, arms crossed but his eyes very, very focused on you.

You blinked.

“What?” you asked, glancing around. “Do I have something on my face?”

No one said anything.

You rolled your eyes, moving casually toward the fridge. “Seriously, you guys are acting like I just walked in with a Galran warlord or something.”

Behind you, Keith cleared his throat.

You paused, slowly turning.

Shiro stepped forward, hands folded behind his back, voice a little more formal than usual. “We, uh… we’ve been meaning to give you something.”

You blinked. “…Okay.”

Everyone exchanged glances. Then Hunk stepped forward, holding something in his hands.

A small, shallow bowl.

He offered it to you with both palms, almost reverently.

Your brow furrowed. You glanced at him, then down.

Inside were seven beads.

Each unique. Each clearly chosen with care.

You were speechless.

Your fingers hovered over the bowl, and you couldn’t look up. Your throat was suddenly too tight.

“Mine’s glittery,” Lance said proudly, as he pointed in the general direction of his bead. “Obviously.”

“You don’t have to wear them,” Allura spoke up. “We just wanted you to have them, they’re yours to do as you please.”

She understood. More than anyone. She was the last of her kind, too. The last to carry tradition. The last to remember. And here she stood, offering a piece of herself to help you carry yours.

You smiled down at the bowl, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

They weren’t the same kind that had haunted you weeks ago—sharp, angry, uncontrollable.

These were soft and gentle.

You laughed. Breathy and uncontrollable. The tears didn’t stop.

That seemed to be the response they all needed. The tension in the room melted like morning frost.

Like a blooming spring after the longest and coldest of winters.

Later that night, you sat on the floor of your room, legs crossed, bowl of beads beside you.

Your hair had grown more than you realized. It brushed just past your shoulders now.

You braided slowly. You took your moment with each bead, adding them to the same braid. Just beside the one for your brothers.

Fingers careful, breath even, you wove in Lance’s glittering mess of a charm. Hunk’s small piece of meteorite, Allura’s polished marble, Coran’s slightly off centered one…

You chuckled softly, lips tugging up.

The room was quiet, still. The kind of peace you’d once forgotten how to find.

But then—you felt it.

A shift in the air. You turned, instinctively.

Keith stood in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, arms folded. His eyes were on you, but not in a way that made you feel watched. It was gentler than that.

When your eyes met his, he smiled. A small, rare thing that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

You smiled back.

“Thought you’d be on the observatory deck,” you said softly.

“Thought you’d be up there too,” he replied, stepping in slowly. “Guess we were both wrong.”

You turned slightly, patting the spot on the floor beside you. “Come here.”

Keith walked over and sat down next to you without question, his knee touching your thigh. He looked down at the bowl still resting beside your knee.

“You’ve added them,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Not all of them yet,” you replied.

You picked up the last one.

His.

Small. Dark red. Steady in your palm.

You turned to him, tilting your head slightly.

“Do you want to braid it in?”

Keith blinked. His eyes flicked from your face to the bead in your hand, then back.

“I… can?”

You nodded. “It’s yours. If you want it there.”

His fingers hovered for a second—uncertain, reverent.

Then he reached out, and you turned so your back faced him. Gently, you lifted the braid for him to see.

Keith was quiet as he worked. Careful, deliberate. His fingers brushed your hair like it was sacred.

When he finished, he let his hand rest for just a moment longer than needed. Then he sat back.

“There,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You turned around and faced the mirror again. The bead glinted faintly beneath the rest—small, subtle, solid.

You smiled.

“Perfect,” you said.

He looked at your reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, perfect.”

#keith kogane x reader #platonic x reader #romantic x reader #I’m love this sm oml #and the soft tender affection too???#HELLO?????#ALSO HAIR SYMBOLISM AAAAA #FAVORITE THING FR HOLY HELL #AND THE WAY THE LOVE IS SUBTLE BUT DEFINITELY SUPER THERE I AM A U G H-#KEITH KOGANE MY BELOVED OML

54 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 23 days ago

Text

IM LOVE HIM SM OML-

He deserves sm this is adorable AUGH-

Ekko's Birthday

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Synopsis: You decide to surprise Ekko for his birthday.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, reader has nicknames, reader has unnamed family members, noxian! Reader, established relationship, set in my series ink and bedrock, s2 spoilers, cw food mentions, one suggestive joke, lovestruck! Ekko, fluff!

A/N: this is a few days late but happy birthday to the boy saviour! 🎂🎉 Special thanks to @pleaktale

Ekko Masterlist

Navigation

“Ekko.”

He stirs in his sleep, feeling a warm palm gently tracing his jawline. The touch is as light as a feather, pinky running along his skin like summer raindrops raining down upon him.

“Ekko, come on, firefly, wake up.” Your voice whispers in his ear, breath fanning along his cheek. “Please? This is the only time today that I’ll have you all to myself. Ekko.” You say with a lilt, singing his name like it's a ballad.

Turning towards you, bed dipping down slightly, he nudges his way onto your lap, head resting comfortably atop your thighs and face flushed against your stomach as if he's attuned to your warmth. He feels your hand carefully move away strands of his platinum twists, then you slither towards his scruff, kneading along the back of his head. He could get used to this, perhaps he already has when you keep spoiling him rotten. He always wakes up to your soft voice and even softer touch, to him that's paradise.

Humming against you, face pressed into the plush of your stomach, he wraps an arm around you, clinging onto you in his half asleep state.

“How long have you been awake?” He tiredly asks, fighting a yawn.

“A while.” Chuckling, you place an affectionate kiss right atop his temple even though you might get a knot on the small of your back from the twisted position. “Did you forget what day it is today?”

Ekko inhales the morning air, body clock telling him that you let him oversleep. The fact that he could even afford to sleep more when no explosions wrack him awake, or alarms in his head that are constantly going off— It's pure bliss for him. He can do that now, rest, now that the undercity is doing a lot better than three years ago. Even the air smells crisp and fresher, unlike before when he would take a deep inhale, he gets a lung full of smoke and gunpowder. Zaun and its people are better, there’s still a lot more work to be done, but it’s beginning to look and feel like the Zaun he saw once upon a lifetime ago.

And then there’s you, patient and kind towards his people. You who have made a name for yourself with just your pen and gentle words. Even managed to change the two cities for the better with your work. In their eyes, you're no longer the volatile Noxian they thought you were. You could still be explosive, yes, but you never act without thinking twice, without thinking how it would impact the people around you, and your new found home. You've managed to slink your way into his stone clad heart, chiseled your way inside, and he let you stay there, made a home for yourself in there, painted the walls for you, made furniture for you to rest on— and he wouldn't have it any other way.

All those years of surviving is worth it to see the day that he could just… live.

“Is it…” Ekko croaks out, throat heavy with sleep as he bunches your blouse in his grip. “...Is it soup day in the canteen?”

“Soup day?” Leaning down and giggling, you kiss every inch of the side of his face, making sure that there’s no skin left unkissed. “No,” you tamp down your bout of giggles as you kiss the corner of his sleep ridden eye. “Even better.”

Ekko cracks one eye open, honeyed brown eyes staring half lidded at you. It’s as if the prospect of the day not being about soup intrigued him. “I give up, what day is it?”

Your fond smile slowly stretches into a grin. “It's your birthday.”

He's taken aback, leaning slightly away from you as his eyes narrow suspiciously. “How'd you know that?”

You clearly find him adorable when you nudge your nose atop his own. “I asked…around.”

“Scar told you, didn't he?”

“Maybeee.” Your giggles waft over him.

“And you bribed him for it?” His eyes shine with amusement whilst you try to act innocent by rubbing off the crust gathered in the corner of his eye.

“He may or may not have a whole box of cookies all to himself.” You beam down at Ekko, hand kneading at his skin fondly, trying to flatten the knots in his tired muscles. He looks at you so sweetly that it could rival any type of sweets you made as a bargaining chip. “Happy birthday, Ekko.”

For the first time in a long time, he really thinks that the occasion is a happy one. And not something he feels guilty from, guilty that he got to live and they didn't, guilty that he's older than them now. The reason isn't solely because of you and your love for him, but it’s because the world around him feels brighter now, lighter, that it doesn't weigh over his shoulder like a boulder. His firelights are happier, some even deciding to settle down because of how better the world has become for them, something that they only dreamed of that they can now give their children— A future, Ekko looks forward to the future rather than trying to escape from it, delay it and sometimes even fear it. Now he looks forward to it, wanting to see what his city would look like, desiring to see where you and him would be in the future. The mystery of it all excites him rather than something to be feared. It's no longer bleak in his warm eyes. All he knows is that waking up to you every morning is guaranteed in the future. And he can't wait for the rest.

“Thank you,” hand reaching up to cup your cheek, he tugs you down for a quick yet loving kiss. “Does this mean I get something?”

Scrunching your nose, you pretend to think. “Hm, you tell me.”

Ekko knows you enough that this is one of your teasing games. He decides to play along, but this time, he doesn't flirt back to get you flustered enough that you soon admit defeat, no, he’ll play his cards right, and in his hand is the birthday card that he knows you'll fall for immediately.

“But it’s my birthday...” His tone turns small, broken, as if you punched his precious hoverboard and threw it into the river. To add salt to your wound, Ekko frowns, eyes downturned.

“Ekko…” you coo, mirroring his frown, but in your case, it’s real. “I do have something for you.” You say the words like you're trying to placate him by giving him a consolation prize. “I'm sorry, I did prepare something for you.” Kissing his cheek, you feel his growing grin under your puckered lips. As you move away, he smiles victoriously. “You little shit!”

“You can't call me that, it's my birthday.”

“Birthday or not, you still played me.” Poking his chest, he chuckles and grabs your finger before taking your palm in his and sewing his hand around your own lovingly. “You’re trying to be sweet on me.” It’s your turn to look at him suspiciously.

“Is it working?” Bringing the intertwined hands to his lips, he kisses your knuckles, pecking gently whilst he gazes at you through half lidded eyes.

You know that he's always been a charmer, under the leader side he always shows, and the almost permanent frown on his lips, his sweetness goes beyond anyone you could compare it to. Not even you managed to fight it whenever he gives you his best smile or when he touches the small of your back whenever he passes by you with his firelights, leaving you frozen in place even if it's such a simple action. But it's enough to have you, a tough Noxian, to melt into a puddle.

Shaking your head, you tug at the hem of his shirt. “Don’t test me, Ekko.” Despite your words, the way you gaze at him defeats the purpose of your so-called threat.

“So it's working then?” He raises a brow, palm splayed on the small of your back, thumb drawing circles around where your shirt lifted up slightly.

“Do you want your present or not?”

“I don't see a box anywhere, red, are you the present?” His lips curl into a knowing smirk, eyes glinting with mirth.

Biting your lip with a tamped down flustered chuckle, you pinch his side lightly. “Maybe for later, but for now…” taking the box you've hidden beneath the bed, you finally show it to him with hidden shyness. “For you, firefly.”

Ekko sits up, his hand never leaving the expanse of your skin as he eyes the neatly wrapped gift. The box is in deep forest green, all wrapped together with a crimson ribbon. The symbolism isn't lost to him, it makes his heart sing for a moment.

“Shit, I was just joking, you know?” He only reaches for the gift, and it takes for you to place it in his hand rather than wait for him to take it. The box is small, it fits right in his palm perfectly.

“It's your birthday, of course I got you something.”

“You shouldn't have, you being here is enough.”

Grinning, the warmth from your smile is enough to rival the morning sun. “Well you should've told me that before I went out of my way to get you that.” Joking, you tap the gift nervously as he chuckles. “Please open it before I burst a vein.”

“Can I guess?” He delays the moment so that he could savour your rare bout of bashfulness.

“It’s not food.”

“I wasn't going to guess that.” As he gently unties the ribbon, you watch with a wobbly grin.

“Yes, you were.” Your words fade out as he unboxes the gift, revealing the present you've been preparing for weeks.

His eyes blink at the metal work, it's a clockface intended for his stop watch. The circular metal is laid upon a piece of silky cloth, and its intricate etching of a map of Zaun faces him. He's too afraid to touch it, as if it'll crumble in his hand.

“Shit, you don't like it.” You take his silence as something negative. “I knew I should've gotten you a—” His lips silences you, kissing along the curve of your mouth, nose nudging together, and a hand cupping your chin.

His lips part just a smidge, and you take his invitation, kissing deeper and deeper until you're tugged atop his lap, head tilted so he could kiss you properly. If not for your need for air, you'd kiss him for hours.

As you reluctantly pull away, you look into his brown eyes, and briefly glance down at his kiss bitten lips. “I don't think you got your point across, Ekko. Tell me more about how much you like it.”

Chuckling, he runs his thumb across your lips to wipe away the sheen left by him. “I could, but maybe later.” Teasing to keep you on your toes, you roll your eyes and drop your head atop his shoulder like you're disappointed so you could hide your obvious giddyness. “Stop being a baby, I love your gift.”

“I know.” You peck the side of his neck briefly before returning to face him. “But that's just half of it though.”

Ekko gazes at you through tender eyes that's slightly glazed over by a fog of deep affection for you. “There's more?”

“Mm-hmm, flip it over.”

He does what you've instructed him to do, with his free hand on the small of your back, keeping you in place and the other gingerly flipping the gift over, he sees a small yet intricate carving of a portrait of you and him smiling together. If that's not enough to have his heart squeezing in place, the small message above it would.

“‘I’m always just four seconds away from you, firefly.’” He reads, each word uttered fills his whole body with warmth. He's loved, he knows that, but not up to this degree. You revere him, love him through and through, and the thought of you being by his side— thinking of him, even when you're miles away from him, has tears almost falling from his eyes.

“It clips right on top of your watch, to protect it.” You whisper, hand resting on his nape. “I love you, happy birthday.”

Ekko falls right atop your chest, inhaling deeply, arms wrapped around you as his cheek presses on your clavicle. He utters the same three words with softness and with so much love that you could feel it through your skin and under your bones.

With your eyes closed, you start to sing him a Noxian birthday song in an unknown language to him. All the while you cradle him in place, gently swaying to your song. To you, the song fills you with comfort, it reminds you of peace back home and of your childhood.

To him, it reminds him of you. The hauntingly beautiful song will forever be etched in his mind as yours.

As you finish the quick song, you smile against his temple, and you feel him softly smile back.

“What was that?” Ekko asks, eyes shining as he peers through his lashes to gaze at you.

“A song from my country, my mother used to sing that to me and my brother during our birthdays.” You smile fondly at the memory. “It's basically just a happy birthday song.”

“It's beautiful.” He sighs out, thumb running across your cheek.

Smiling, your cheeks run warmer at his compliment. “And here I thought a big cake would be enough.” You mumble as he mindlessly runs his index across your clavicle, tracing small circles around your skin.

“You got me cake?” He asks, hand still grasping the watch cover as he smiles at the tiny portrait.

“Of course, what am I, an idiot?”

“Only sometimes.” He jokingly says as you snort.

“I'll let that slide since it's your birthday.” Leaning away, hands cupping his cheek, you gaze at his blissful face. “Do you want to put that on your watch now?” You gesture towards the gift that's safely tucked in his hand.

“Yeah,” nodding, you take his stopwatch from the bedside table. Ekko tinkers with them for a minute, until there's a metallic click as the present secures in place. The map of Zaun faces him, but when he opens the watch, it's you and him that greets him along with the ticking watch. “It's perfect.”

“Yeah?” You sigh in relief, and he nods again, this time with a grin. “That’s good.” Chuckling with unshed tears in your eyes, you peck his jaw. “There's more to this though.”

“I'm guessing that's the cake?”

“Yes, but you have to get dressed for it.”

His nose scrunches. “But that's the opposite of what you usually ask for?”

A loud guffaw echoes around the room. “Not always! You make me sound like I'm a fiend!” Ekko tilts his head and raises a brow. “...fine, I am but not today! Please, I promised them that you'll be down in a minute. And it's been…” you glance at the clock. “...More than a minute.”

“Who's them?”

—

“Surprise!”

The firelights and members of the commune yell out simultaneously the moment Ekko steps off his hoverboard. They throw colourful confetti at him, pieces of paper sticking to his hair as they smile happily at them.

He can't help but match their expressions.

“Happy birthday, boss.” Scar says, giving him a curt nod as he clasps his shoulder.

“Yeah, happy birthday, boss!” Scar’s kid echoes his father's words, trying to clasp him on his shoulder with his shorter arm while he's in his father's arms.

“Thank you.” Ekko's heart swells at the sight. There are streamers hanging above the string lights, it flutters with the wind and the fallen gingko leaves.

The crowd parts for him, and the sun shines on a long table spread out with tons of food, most of them are sweets, probably a courtesy of you. And there are benches all around it, waiting for him and the firelights.

Eyes shining under the sun, he looks for you behind him. He didn't know the day could get any better than this, but it has when you're carrying the biggest cake he has ever seen. He's more entranced by the one holding it though, but the cake is a bonus.

“Come on and make a wish.”

Stepping closer, hands holding on top of yours, the two of you hold the cake as a single lit candle is placed right in the middle of the fluffy light viridescent cake.

“I already have my wish right here.” He whispers only to you before blowing out his candle.

The round of applause and ecstatic cheers echo around the clearing. If he could turn back time further, he would tell his younger self that it's worth it, that one day all the fighting and surviving would be worth it. Just for this moment, his family are finally happy, and the air smells sweet but the smile on his love is even sweeter.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#my boy- <333 #AAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MAN EVER FR-#<3333333

176 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 25 days ago

Text

"To Friendship" - Duke Crocker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Set early Season 3. Duke manages to identify The Hunter and some complicated feelings. This version of reader is not troubled, and works at The Haven Herald. Words: 1.7k Warnings: Drinking, fluff, angst (?), comfort(?)

A/N: I am trying to just commit to the writing I want to do. This man's story has me in my feelings at the moment so just work with me here. Hope you enjoy!

Duke leans against the balcony railings of Audrey’s apartment above The Grey Gull: coffee cup in his left hand, notes and newspaper clippings in his right. “You couldn’t have written yourself a more specific note?” He exhales, some mixture of a laugh and an expression of frustration, as he places the papers down on the table between you.

You catch his eye and try a smile. He smiles back. He looks tired, though no worse for it. His hair looks longer lately, rougeish. It suits him.

“Well, it looks like I only had ten seconds to write it.” Audrey sets down her coffee and runs her thumb over the injury on her wrist.

“I gotta tell ya, if I were gonna have to live multiple lives, I would have picked some place more exotic. Warmer climate, Bali, Costa Rica…Hong Kong.”

“How’s that healing?” You ask, noticing Audrey’s distanced gaze.

“It’s fine.” She answers, brushing it off in the way that she always does. “I keep thinking about the man who abducted me.” Something you are all thinking about. “He said I loved the Colorado Kid.” Duke props himself against the balcony fence once more.

“Who was supposedly buried 27 years ago.” He looks out over the water. “But now his grave is empty.”

Audrey had been a good friend to you since you arrived some months ago, and just as you were finding out new things about her every day, she was too. You couldn’t fathom what that was like - discovering the multiple lives you’d lived…the people you’d loved…all forgotten.

“I think he’s alive and I think he is on the run.” You lean back in the chair and look up at the sky. Audrey was very rarely wrong, but how long did they have to find The Hunter before this conversation became null and void? What happens if The Hunter finds them first? How will you carry on in Haven without her? What would your job at The Herald be like without her? What would Nathan and Duke be like without her?

An abrupt noise brings the conversation to a halt, and everyone to the edge of their seat.

“Are you expecting somebody else?” Duke almost whispers. Audrey shakes her head.

“Be careful.” You mouth, more than speak. You had experienced more than enough fear for the wellbeing of your friends in the last 48 hours. Duke puts his coffee down next to Audrey’s and takes a screwdriver from his back pocket as he moves towards the side of the building.

You move to stand, and Duke raises a hand, motioning you to remain where you are whilst he investigates.

You hold your breath, right up until the moment Duke visibly relaxes.

“Good morning Chief.” Duke puts the screwdriver in his pocket and turns back around.

“What are you doing here?” He asks pointedly.

“In case you forgot, Audrey got abducted. So I am changing the locks.”

“You’re changing the locks?” Nathan challenges as Duke walks away, back to the table and chairs. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at what appears to be a chest-beating contest.

“Yes, I am changing the locks but, you know, we got to chatting,” He picks up his coffee once more and raises it to his lips. “...favourite coffees, scented candles. Girl talk.” He smiles as he takes a sip of his drink and you try hard not to laugh at the way he winds him up on purpose.

“You told them everything about The Hunter?” Nathan asks and Audrey nods.

“Yeah, we’re friends, is that a problem?” Duke asks Nathan.

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” He throws his hand in your direction, making Duke look between you both. “Come on, your dad? You ever think you’re the hunter, Duke?”

“No.” His answer is sharp. “Never.”

“Well. I guess we won’t know until you kill someone.”

“Hey!” You interject. “Enough.” Nathan seems to snap out of his surge of manliness. “Audrey’s safe. Let’s not start throwing around accusations…in fact preemptive accusations right now.” The boys look at one another, wordlessly calling a truce. “Why don’t we all catch up later? I’ve gotta get to The Herald and you two need to save the world.” You look to Duke. “You’ve got things covered here, yeah?” He nods.

“Yeah.”

And with that, you pick up your satchel by Audrey’s front door and make your way down the stairs towards your car.

When you return to The Grey Gull later that afternoon, you find yourself entranced by the mingling colours in the sky. So much so that you don’t register who it is bundling a dog into their car. Audrey and Nathan.

You turn on your heels to try to catch their eye in the rearview, but with no luck. “Huh.” You turn back to the restaurant and take one more look at the scene of serenity before heading in to see Duke behind the bar. “When did Audrey get a dog?” You shrug your bag off your shoulder and hook it on the back of one of the barstools. He doesn’t hear you, or chooses not to, as he buffs out an imaginary mark in the countertop. “I guess stranger things have happened.” You continue, hoping to lure him out of whatever daydream he is stuck in.

His slightly damp hair moves across his furrowed brow as he continues to focus his attention on the bar. The smell of his sea salt and sage shower gel invades your senses and you realise he’s changed his clothes. A vision of cream and white, this cardigan is one of your favourites on him.

“Will you talk to me already?” This time, he reacts. He discards the cleaning implements and crouches down behind the bar, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of whisky. He remains silent, even as he places them down and pours a single measure in each. When he’s done, he passes one in your direction and keeps the other for himself. “Haven’t I told you before that drink isn’t the answer to everything?” You say, despite taking the glass from him.

“It’s just a toast.” The first words he's spoken since you walked through the door. You watch him as intently as he watches you.

“To?” You finally say.

“Friendship.” You throw him an are-you-kidding look, to which he shrugs, with a hint of a smile.

“You stubborn bastard.” You raise the glass. “To friendship.” He raises his own glass and the two meet in the middle with a high pitched clink. He throws back his drink in one, barely reacting.

“Ugh.” You cringe aloud and shiver at the aftertaste whilst Duke tries to contain a smile. A smile that falls fast as he pours another shot for himself.

“The Hunter is a meteor shower.” He says, before screwing the lid back on the bottle and knocking back the second shot.

“What does that even mean?” He doesn’t answer. “What do we do with that information? I need to speak with her. When did you speak with her? Can’t we do something about it? There has to be a way. In this place your feelings can cause tornadoes and your nightmares can be real, how can we not stop my best friend leaving?” The tears are already falling from your eyes.

“Nothing.” What? “Audrey…wants to do nothing.”

Duke tells you that the Hunter Meteor shower occurs every twenty seven years, and during that meteor shower, tradition dictates, she must leave. And when she leaves, the troubles go too.

It seems a cruel twist of fate that Audrey would help the troubled in every lifetime, only to be cast out. You wonder if the other versions of Audrey had friends who tried to keep her here. You wonder how close they might have been to succeeding if they had. And yet Audrey wants to do…nothing.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, and he won’t look at you, probably with all the tears and snot down your face. “When Nathan asked you this morning if you thought you might be The Hunter, you said no.”

“I meant what I said. Even if I was meant to be The Hunter, I would never.” He steps out from behind the bar to move as freely as his thoughts. “I told you all, I am not subscribing to this Crocker bullcrap. I’m not doing it.” He stands still. “In a way, I wish I was this Hunter, because I would have some sort of power to stop it. But how the hell are we meant to stop a meteor shower?” He slowly balls his right hand into a fist and presses it against one of the supporting beams of The Gull. “She can’t go now.” He whispers. “She only just got here.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” It’s a surprise that you ask, but no surprise that you wish that you hadn’t. “What?” He turns and drops his hand from the beam. His lips are parted and his eyes squint, you’re not sure if it’s confusion, defence, or perhaps neither.

“I mean, she’s a special person. Even without the whole trouble thing following her around, she’s magnetic. It just would make sense right? Nathan, Chris…you?” He rubs the back of his neck as he looks at you.

“I think she's great, don't get me wrong. But she’s got that whole Nathan thing going on. I’ve got this whole doomed-to-follow-in-my-father’s-footsteps thing. It’s complicated.” Sadness overtakes his face as he studies the ground and steadies his words. “It’s just that she's the only one who can see the good in me: that I'm not some criminal, no-good crook.”

“Not everyone thinks that, Duke.” As he looks up at you, the sadness still saturates the brown of his eyes. You move toward him. “I-”

“Hey, have either of you guys seen Audrey with an adorable dog following her around?” Doctor Claire Callaghan’s poor timing pierces through the moment. Duke inhales before running his palm down his beard, over his mouth and down his chin.

“I believe he’s called Nathan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate you calling him that.” As usual, Duke Crocker’s innate ability to deflect feelings with humour comes to the rescue.

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to summon the words to recover from the emotional wringing of your insides.

“I am sensing some tens-”

“Claire.” Duke turns his full body and attention to her, clapping his hands together and engaging his boyish charm that people admire so much. “Can I get you something?”

#duke crocker x reader #a u g h there needs to be more content on this man fr #< / 3

19 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 27 days ago

Text

<33333

Happy Birthday to Ekko!! [you are very right he deserved WAY better than s2 Arcane-]

happy bday to my beloved boy Ekko who deserved sm better than whatever they did to him in s2 arcane 🩷

77 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 28 days ago

Text

About to open up requests for Duke Crocker fr there is a sore lack of fanfics for the guy-

#SCREAMS IN ITS BEEN OVER A WEEK AND STILL NO NEW CONTENT AUGH

3 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 1 month ago

Text

YEAHHHHHHHHHH-

WIP WEDNESDAY!!!

I've written lots for you guys hehehe mayhaps there will be a jason fic later hmm 🤔

“You guys are disgusting.” Miles scrunches his nose, hand pausing around his pencil. He's sitting atop a barrel, no doubt resting after hauling planks of wood aboard. “Aren't you supposed to be working right now, Miles?” Raising a brow, you dig into your satchel for his present.

“I'm on break, landlubber. Aren't you supposed to be working?”

Gazing at the ceiling, mold dotted along the wood, your eyes sting as you tilt your head down, face half submerged in the water. Waves lapping at the sides of your face. You miss James, he was your companion, a friend that helped you survive the first days of the apocalypse. As you run your palm on your stomach, you promise to yourself that you'll live on so that his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. You have no idea how to tell Yuri and Ned that their best mate is dead, and that you killed him.

Poking his chest, you giggle. “It was a celebration! You sold your hundredth cow, of course I'm going to drink my fill.” The drink arrives, and he takes it, sliding it towards you smoothly. “Well, Bessie wouldn't celebrate much.” “I've seen the Morgan farm, Hobie, Bessie is lucky to have that place.” Pushing the drink over to him with a raised brow, you laugh when he slides it back to you, playing tug of war with the cheap liquor.

“You've got thirty minutes.” The cop says with a grimace. “Wait, what?” You look over your shoulder, eyeing the uniformed man down. “It's supposed to be an hour!” “Change of rules.” With those parting words, he shuts the doors and locks it behind him. “Are you going to give this place zero stars on yelp like that one place with the rude waitress?” Aaron snidely remarks.

As always, guess which is which!!

#<<< gasp sounds like you're infected with zombie virus noooooo #<<<<< AGEHDNFJFNF OH N O-#oh wait I remember that one tumblr post that like #made a concept where a person was getting chased by a zombie and on instinct they BIT the zombie themselves instead #and then the zombie ended up turning back into a person #just need someone to bite me!! like hobie!! /very much so j #and no where bad or 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 either I’m thinking like a forearm or smth GAHDNFJFNF #ALL JOKES ASIDE THOUGH I AM VERY EXCITED OML

24 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 1 month ago

Text

ZOMBIE AU PART 2????????????? IS THAT ZOMBIE AU PR 2????????????

WIP WEDNESDAY!!!

I've written lots for you guys hehehe mayhaps there will be a jason fic later hmm 🤔

“I'm on break, landlubber. Aren't you supposed to be working?”

As always, guess which is which!!

#SCREAMING CRYINF THROWING UP #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

24 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 1 month ago

Text

The way I felt Jason’s panic too at first and genuinely thought you were gonna go the route I thought you were bc of the angst I’ve seen you and everyone else write and talk about, oml-

JASON DW DW YOU’LL GET THE AFFECTION THAT YOU DESERVE AAAAA-

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Jason sees you unmoving on the floor, his worst fear almost brings him to the edge.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, lovestruck! Jason, CW food mentions, one suggestive joke, CW anxiety, CW blood and death mention, fluff!

A/N: I don't know if this trope has been done before for him but it's too perfect for Jason!

Navigation

Jason Todd Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

Jason feels lighter as he pulls his bike towards the driveway, the shared driveway that he can't wait to shovel snow off of its pavement once winter comes. He can't even fathom that he wants to do such a thing when he doesn't even like winter, or shoveling snow for that matter. But the mundanity of the act has him feeling normal, feeling like he's just another person bringing takeout to a normal home with its very normal façade, a regular door and even more regular windows. It's a…good feeling, a warm one that brings him hope for whatever the future holds.

For once he doesn't feel like the red hood in the quiet street that's filled with equally normal houses with their normal families residing inside. For once he can just be Jason Todd, not a vigilante, not a gun for hire or anything in between. There's no blood coating the soles of his boots as he steps around the freshly poured concrete that you've etched yours and his initials into and inside a crudely drawn heart. “It's tradition,” you said with a shining smile. He smiles at the sight of it, remembering how much you giggled while you drew it on the wet concrete like you're etching his and your names on a tree.

The house isn't as grandiose as the Wayne Manor, but just like the manor, it's home to him.

Jason pats for his keys, noticing the lack of weapons on his person that he's so used to that it's second nature for him to check them. He has no weapons on him, except for a small knife you've given to him as an anniversary present that you said brings out his eyes as a joke. He always brings it wherever he goes. When some people would have their loved ones pictures in their wallet, Jason has this as a reminder of you. Whenever he's nervous or worried, he runs his thumb across the leather handle, letting the small notches in it ground him. The blade never pierced flesh nor will it ever be marred by blood since it's a reminder of you. On his driveway, he's just someone who's just bringing home takeout after hauling boxes upon boxes of things into the new home.

Bruce and his brothers helped with the big move at first, but with the bat signal raised up high in downtown Gotham, they had to go before Jason could even repay their help with greasy takeout. When he tried to come with, Dick stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder, saying that he should let them take care of the situation. For once, he's happy to oblige. He smiles at the thought of not having that sense of urgency anymore. The weight inside his stomach slowly fades in time, it weighs like a boulder, pleading for him to don the suit and rush towards the signal with his guns. But as he looks up at the starry sky, the bat signal flickers out completely— another mission accomplished. If not then Oracle would've called him for backup as a last resort. Since his phone is as silent as the street that he now lives in, he exhales shakily, fists furling and unfurling out to rid him of that awfully familiar weight.

The people of Gotham are in safe hands while he's out here with you.

Grabbing the plastic bags of warm noodles and dimsum, he fishes out the ring of keys inside his pockets. As he walks quietly on the cobblestones, the doormat that you've chosen greets him at the door. It has the cliché ‘Welcome!’ sign on it, for once he likes clichés.

After a bout of reminiscing and smiling to himself like some love sick fool, he unlocks the door with a click. Silence hangs in the foyer, the queen sized mattress is still standing against the wall, waiting to be carried upstairs. He makes a mental note to haul it upstairs lest the two of you sleep on the floor tonight.

The scent of lavender wafts around him, for sure coming from a scented candle that's lit somewhere. The smell coincides with the scent of his old books that are temporarily placed on the dinner table while the pieces of his bookshelves are still in its box. A soft smile appears on his lips at the thought of you two struggling to put it together as he crosses the shared space with silent footsteps.

“Sweetheart, I'm home.” Jason calls out in the dimly lit home. He's met with the quiet ticking of the wall clock. The lack of lights makes his skin stand on edge, especially when you always had the old apartment lit back when you two still lived downtown. And you always reply back to him the second he enters the place, always quick with a first aid kit in hand or a peck or two.

“Hey, where are you?” He asks the air as he toes off his shoes, placing them neatly beside yours. “They didn't have the chicken you wanted but they did give us extra fortune cookies.” Still nothing on your end. “Babe?”

Honing in on the faint groans of the house, he concentrates, ears twitching and picking up nothing that could involve you. There's no light clacking of your footsteps, nor your voice as you mumble a song that's stuck in your head.

“You could be upstairs,” Jason tells himself to avoid the awful biting feeling. First he'll sweep the whole downstairs, an old habit. Looking towards the kitchen, he finds it eerily empty. Save for the warming kettle that looks like you left on the stove with the fire still on. Your mug and his own are sitting beside it, the tea bags are as dry as a bone inside the ceramic. The kettle shrieks just as he places the takeout on the counter, shutting the stove off, he has an awful feeling gnawing at his chest. Worry slithering from the back of his head down to the pit of his stomach.

Jason's hand doesn't tremble as he takes the knife from his pocket, brandishing the blade as he stalks his own home. Heart pounding in his chest, rattling his ribs and blood flowing in his ears. His mind draws the worst, your blood sticking to the new couch, ichor dripping all over the walls. Then a struggle, a lamp knocked down, glass shards everywhere— a gun to your head. And your screams, yelling for him before you're shut up for good.

He fights those thoughts as he enters the living room, boxes littered around while you're nowhere in sight. The grip he has on the knife tightens, the handle digging harshly into his palm.

Just as he rounds the corner, he sees your feet sticking out from behind the couch, laying on the carpeted floors— unmoving.

Eyes widening and frantic, heart plummeting down to his stomach, his worst nightmare comes to life. Jason stands there for a moment as if he doesn't trust his own eyes, frozen at the sight. Then he inhales, waking himself back to reality, walking closer until you're in his sight.

You're curled around a couch pillow, eyes closed, body relaxed. Looking like how he left you— an oversized shirt, and a pair of comfortable sweats. There's no drop of blood on you, but that doesn't always mean you're alright. Jason kneels, a shaking hand reaching to feel for your pulse. The second his index feels the light thump of your heartbeat, he exhales loudly in relief.

“Oh thank fuck.” He almost drops his whole body on you from the sheer relief. Tucking the knife back inside his pocket, you stir in your sleep. “Gave me a fucking scare.” Whispering, he grasps your bicep gently, not waking you up, but just to feel your warmth. Making sure that his cruel mind isn't playing tricks on him again.

“Mm-hmm.” Mumbling, and as if you're sensing his presence above you, you crack an eye open. Meeting with his bright emerald eyes that seem to light up in the dim room, relief swimming in the shining embers. “Hey,” your voice crackles with sleep. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.” Chuckling breathlessly, Jason carefully cleans the gunk from the corner of your eye. You feel how clammy his palm is against your cheek, hand gravitating towards his nape, nails scratching mindlessly at the scruff. “Was the floor more comfortable than the couch?”

Craning your neck towards the plump green couch, you scrunch your nose. “I didn't want to ruin it.”

“Babe, c’mon, why did we buy it then?” He pokes your cheek, and you grab his wrist, acting like you're about to bite it as he plays tug of war with you. “We're bound to ruin it anyway.” he winks, and you pause, flustered as you pull at his finger to take a gentle bite that has him laughing.

“It looks too perfect, and the floor is nice and cold.”

“I should adjust the thermostat then.” Before he could move away, you tug at his hand, wordlessly inviting him to rest on the floor beside you. With a fond smile, he obliges.

When he lies down with a groan, you immediately turn towards him, hand grasping at his collar to pull him closer. “There, you look like you need the rest.”

“Why?” His thumb traces the side of your face. “Do I look that tired?”

Shaking your head, you fight a yawn. “No, you look like you've seen a ghost, Jay. Are you okay?”

Sniffing, Jason cups your cheek, feeling your warmth ebb through his palms. “I just thought… nothing, it's stupid.”

Your brows furrow, concern prevalent on your face. “Your hand's cold, and you're breathing heavily. It's either our house is haunted or you carried the mattress up by yourself.” Palm placed on his chest, you feel his quick heartbeat that's slowly steadying under your touch. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just tell me what to do.” Voice shrinking, you pat his heart. “Do you want me to stay like this?”

Nudging your nose with his own, Jason closes his eyes, lashes fluttering as he breathes you in. You smell like his cologne and the lavender candles you lit. You're breathing, alive and holding him gently. “Please stay.” That's all he wants.

“Okay, I'll stay.” Whispering, you move closer, chest to chest, fingers moving strands of hair from his eyes. “And whatever it is, it's not stupid.”

Humming, his lips brush along the space between your brows, then he traces down to the bridge of your nose. Kissing you softly like a fallen flower petal grazing along your skin.

Smiling through his affectionate kisses, you brush his hair away from his eyes again, giggling when the strand falls back down on his eyelids. “You need a haircut.”

Eyes half lidded, green peeking through, the corner of his lips curls into a light smile. “Do you want to do it for me?”

“Me?” You gasp out, and he throws his leg over yours, embracing you as if his arm over your waist wasn't enough. “I might ruin your hair, Jay bird. I don't trust my hand eye coordination when it comes to scissors. Especially with your nice hair, I might end up giving you a mohawk.”

“I could rock a mohawk.” You grin at the thought. “Your coordination is fine, babe.” Blowing his bangs off his face for emphasis, he draws hearts around the plush of your bare hip. “You did hit me with an encyclopedia dead on.”

“That was one time!” Mouth agape and feigning offense, you lightly smack his chest, scars peeking above the hem of his shirt. Scars that you've lovingly traced with your lips and fingers. “I thought you were a burglar! And in my defense, it was dark out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, a palm cupping the back of your neck, placing affectionate pecks over the corner of your eye. “You got me good though, hit me right on my noggin.”

Laughing, you bite your lip at the memory. “I'm sorry, good thing you were wearing your helmet back then.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Keeping you close, his muscles relax even more, the fear that encapsulated him is just a dull ache in his stomach now.

Your knuckles brush along the curve of his jaw, the same worried look returns to your pretty face. “Jay—”

“I thought you got hurt.” Blurting it out, he frowns at the recent memory. “The house was dark and you left the kettle on. Then I saw you… and I—” inhaling, he gives you a strained smile. “I feel better now though, you don't have to worry too much.”

“Oh, Jason.” Lifting yourself up by your elbows, you gaze at him softly as he holds onto your waist like it's his lifeline. “I didn't mean to—”

“It's not your fault, that's just how my mind works I guess. Seriously, it's fine.”

Taking his hand, you place his palm right on your beating heart. “Worrying is part of my job, handsome.” You beam at him, staring fondly and leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I'm sorry for leaving the kettle on. I promise to not forget next time, and I promise to keep the place lit. And then whenever I take a nap, it'll be on our too perfect couch.” He sighs, eyes gazing up at you with reverence as he nods and pulls you down towards him. “I'll try to lessen your worries.”

“Thank you,” tugging you down, he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Arms wrapped around you like a cocoon. You rest on his chest, cheek pressed right on his heart as you rub reassuring circles all over his clavicle. “I don't mind you sleeping on the floor. Your poor back might feel it though.” You can feel his smile against your skin.

Moving a smidge away, you grin at him, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah, I might need a massage actually.”

“From me?” He raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips. “I would but I don't trust my hand eye coordination.” Pinching your sides, he lets out a quiet laugh.

Giggling, you poke his cheek playfully. “You don't need that to give a massage though.”

“Maybe for shit massages.” The chorus of laughter echoing from the living room drenches the whole house in warmth. “Say please?”

You roll your eyes, moving down to press a brief yet saccharine kiss right on his smiling lips. “Please?”

“You really want that massage huh?” He pats your cheek, then his hand crawls to your nape, gently kneading. “Do you still want that massage even if I didn't get you your orange chicken?”

Tilting your head, you shake your head with a grin while squeezing his cheeks together. “I'd say that it's a good bargain.” You were on the floor for a second, then the next you're lifted up, legs wrapped around his hips as he carries you. “Jason!” Squeaking and grinning, you wrap your arms behind his head for leverage.

“What?” He asks innocently, mirroring your giddy smile as he brushes his lips against your cheek. “I'm going to give you that massage.” It's a ruse to get you off of the harsh floor, but you let him when his hold is much more comfortable than the floor.

“Better be a damn good massage then.” You say before you're dropped on the couch, bouncing gently as you stare up at him lovingly.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

#no but fr though oml #anyways-#this was so sweet- <33333 #AAAAAAA them-#he and Tim Drake are my two favorites #in fact Tim was my first Bat Boy I took an interest in before Jason and both are so- >>>>>>>>

1K notes · View notes