summary: moving from phoenix was one of the last things you wanted, but when your mother moves t here after the divorce from your father, it brings more than just being uncomfortable with the new place... there's vampires
word count: around 1.8k
note: i lowkey doubt there are many people on here that still want to read 80s movies fics... but i do not care. I am in a huge fan of the characters from the lost boys and i have always had a HUGE crush on alan.
"Sam, I don't understand why I have to follow you." You groan as he pulls you away from your older brother Michael and forces you to walk with him towards a comic book shop. "As if you don't already have enough."
He ignores your latter comment. "I am your older brother and mom would kill me if you wandered alone."
"Michael is wandering off alone?" You say, it coming out as a question. He gives you a stupid face and picks up a random comic. You turn your head out towards the boardwalk, watching the people crowd at every point. So much more fun.
Sam continues looking at some of the superhero ones and your hand reaches out and grabs a horror comic. On the front cover is a comic rendition of a popular still from the 1931 Dracula movie. You flip through it, looking at some of the art when Sam pops up next to you and scares you.
"The locals don't really know what personal space is." He complains and looks at what you are holding. "Vampires? What the hell is it with this place, did one of those guys give that to you?"
He goes to grab it from your hand but you pull it back just out of his reach. "First off no, I just grabbed this from the shelf. Two, why are you so offended?"
"The two workers just got me to buy this dumb scary comic about vampires before they ran out."
"You don't even like horror." You point out and raise your eyebrow. You put the Dracula one down that you were looking at and look around.
"I know." He sighs and the two of you walk out of the shop.
Later, your mom came out of Sam's room and into yours.
"How are you liking Santa Carla now?" She sits at the edge of your bed.
"I dunno... we haven't seen much of it and it seems odd. The pier is cool but what else is there really to do? I miss home." You admit. Your mom sighs and runs her hand up and down your leg.
"I miss it too. It was where you three grew up. All the memories there can't be replaced here. But we can make the most out of it. We have eachother and now we have Grandpa."
"I know, it has been a long time since we have seen him but its just not the same." You grab your blanket and shift down into it. She nods, getting the hint and walks up towards your lights. She flips them off and shuts your door.
"Atlantic Fantasyland Comics." A monotone voice answers the phone and before much else can be said, Sam cuts them off.
"That comic you guys sold me, I think it is coming true. My own damn brother." Silence on the other line, and then some shuffling.
A second voice cuts in. Deeper, and even more monotone. "You did the right thing by calling us, does your brother sleep alot?"
Sam ignores you as he continue talking to the comic book store workers. "Yeah, all day."
"Does the sunlight freak him out?"
"Yeah, he wears sunglasses inside." Oh god. Sam really believes this crap.
You try and cut in but you stop when Sam swats your arm.
"Bad breath and long finger nails?"
"Yeah, his fingernails are a bit longer. He always had bad breath though." Sam says.
"He's a vampire all right."
"All right, here is what you do. Take a good sharp stake and drive it right through his heart."
"WHAT?" You scream.
"We can't do that. He's our brother!" Sam says, mouth agape.
"Who else is there?"
"My sister, Y/N." Sam says.
"Well, we will come over and do it for you."
"No!" You say and rip the headset from Sam's hand and hang up the phone with force.
"You tell me what the hell is going on or I am telling Mom." You stand up and point a finger at Sam.
The phone ring makes both of you jump and you pick it up. "Mom! I wanted to talk to you."
Sam rips it out of your hand. "We need to talk about something."
You hear commotion outside of your bedroom window and look outside. You start screaming as Michael comes into focus. First his shoes, then his jeans, then his shirt and head. He starts talking on the phone too but you don't do anything besides scream, because your eldest brother is outside your bedroom window... on the second floor.
With your mom now working and Michael not really around. It leaves you on your own or hanging out with Sam. You still don't really know anyone your age around the area and the locations of your Grandpa's house is no help. Often, he refuses to go out into town and that leads to boring nights. Like tonight, you lay on your bed with your legs up on the wall reading a book. You bounce your feet as you hold the book above your face. Your radio is loudly playing music, The Crystals to be exact.
You hear Nanook barking and loud noises that make you jump and drop the book onto your face. You rush out of your room to check it out but the door won't open. You bang on it and try to get the attention of Sam, who you hear yelling in the hallway. He comes and helps you get the door open but slams it shut when he and Nanook get inside.
"Sam! What the hell is happening?" You ask. He doesn't answer, just moves forward and grabs your phone. He dials a number quickly and waits for the other line to answer. You move your head towards the receiver and listen.
"I thought you said you didn't want to see them after what they said?" You ask Sam, trailing after him back on the boardwalk.
"Shut up." He says and looks around. The comic book store isn't open yet so he plops right in front of the gate and stares straight ahead. You groan and do the same, sitting in front of it as you wait for the people to come open up.
It takes while, but eventually two teens your age walk up and Sam jumps up. You stand up, not as quickly and step away to give them room to unlock. They both stare at you before Sam starts talking.
"Look guys, the dog started attacking my mom just like the hounds of hell from the comic."
"Seriously? This again Sam." You hit him on the arm and he winces but doesn't stop paying them attention as they open up and bring merchandise out towards the walkway.
"We have been aware of the high levels of vampire activity here for awhile now." The one teen in a red banana says, gesturing for the two of you to walk into the store. The other one, with dark hair opens up the other door.
"Santa Carla has become a haven for the undead."
"As a matter of fact, we are almost certain that ghouls and werewolves occupy high positions of power down at the city hall." Red banana looks straight at Sam.
"Does your brother know who the head vampire is?"
"No. He doesn't" Sam says.
"Kill your brother. You two will feel better." The dark haired boy says. Your jaw drops.
"Excuse me?" Again, you get ignored as the three boys move around you.
"Look guys, our brother is not a bloodsucker. Says here that if you kill the head vampire, all half vampires return to normal. If there is anything about my brother I know, its that he is only half."
"All of this started when mom started dating Max." You whisper and the boys pay attention to you. "Sam, you said that Mom was almost attacked by Max's dog, he never comes in till late.... this all started when mom started to be around him. He has to be the head vampire."
"Not a bad thought. Things do add up." The dark haired boy admits. "We will check out Max."
"I can't believe I am adding more things to do with this.... so stupid." You say under your breath. The three boys had started to walk away from you but the dark haired boy stops and looks at you.
"No, not stupid. Smart. You don't want to die at the hands of your brother.... or worse, be a bloodsucker for eternity." He leans against the pole and tilts his head. "I'm Alan, that's my brother Edgar.... I don't think Sam has told us your name."
"Y/N." You answer, and stare back at him with the same emotionless look. He gives an approving nod before pushing off the pole and walking towards you.
"Cute." He leans in to whisper before walking away to keep setting up the store for the day.
Sitting at the dinner table across from Max was daunting as the group of you got ready to test out the signs that Max would be the head vampire. You had garlic at the ready, a mirror shoved to the side and some holy water. Sitting next to Alan, you swat away his hand as he keeps running his hand softly against the loose fabric of your shirt. He sends you a smirk from the side and once you are all given a full plate, he lets up. Focusing again on the task at hand.
"Ooo, someone's breath stinks!" Your mom says, causing the forks to stop moving around plates as you all look directly at Max. He notices you, Sam and Alan staring at him and picking up on it, looks offended at Edgar. Edgar doesn't play it off very well making you stifle a laugh. "Nanook, would you please stop breathing on me."
"Nanook, get upstairs." Sam says and your dog listens, trotting towards the stairs. As you watch him, Alan hands Sam the small bowl of chopped garlic. Max takes the offer of "parmesan" and takes a large bite. He starts to cough and you push your chair back, unsure of any reaction. Admitting he likes garlic was the first of the tests to fail. When the holy water doesn't work either, Alan puts out the candles with his fingers as Edgar shuts the lights off. Sam goes around the table towards Edgar as you and Alan stand close.
"He isn't glowing." You whisper and without even realizing it, put your hand on Alan's arm.
"Just wait." He whispers back, but he doesn't make any motion for you to take your hand off of him. Edgar and Sam have the mirror ready, so when the lights come on Max does see his reflection. Your stomach drops as you realize that the group of you was wrong... and you three were back to square one.
pairing: robin!jason todd x childhood bestfriend! reader
summary: you used to be inseperable, now jason is more moody and less likely to be seen with you. one night, you're attacked and your hero is somoneone that has always been a hero in your eyes.
word count: around 5.3k
note: this one has been sitting in my drafts for while but i have been hesitant to post it since i do not know too much about dc. funnily enough though, when i was super young, i was obessed with the justice league and would beg my dad for the comics they released and even got the ps2 video game but then when marvel released captain america: the first avenger. i was hooked so i kinda faded from dc but this batfam is reeling me back in hardcore
You and Jason Todd had grown up on opposite ends of the same street. Not close enough that your houses shared a fence, but close enough that you saw each other nearly every day of your childhood. He was the boy who raced his bike too fast down the hill, who scraped his knees more than anyone else, who picked fights with kids twice his size but still smiled like it never hurt. And you were the one who patched him up after those fights, sitting on stoops or curbs with a half-empty box of Band-Aids while he told you wildly exaggerated stories about how the other kid “totally started it.” You always tried telling him that didn’t mean he had to be the one to end it, but it never stuck with him.
You were his safe place back then. The person he would drop his guard around. The one who knew he pretended to be tougher than he felt. You saw through all of it; every crack, every bruise, every bright spark of loyalty hiding under the attitude.
And he saw you too, even when no one else did.
The two of you stayed close through middle school, then through early high school, until the night he stopped showing up. No warning. No explanation. No goodbye. He just vanished from the neighborhood like someone had erased him from the map.
Months passed before he appeared again… different haircut, better clothes, posture straighter like someone had trained the slouch out of him. He had new shadows under his eyes, and new confidence that wasn’t quite the old swagger. Something about him felt a little sharper, like life had honed him during the time he was gone.
He said he had been taken in by someone. He said things were complicated. And though you wanted to pry answers out of him, the look in his eyes told you they weren’t answers you were supposed to have yet.
Still, for a while, he stayed near you again. Not as much as before. Not like the constant presence he had been in childhood but he came around often enough that the space between you never grew too wide. You were even a guest at a select few of Wayne Enterprise functions due to Jason’s new connections… He would never tell you who, just that he ‘knew a guy’. You didn’t stay too long at those parties but the food was amazing so you went when you could.
Then he started pulling away. It happened gradually, in tiny moments that almost didn’t register until they all stacked together. He stopped meeting you after school. He stopped responding to late-night texts. You’d spot him in the neighborhood sometimes; walking quickly, hood pulled up, shoulders tense, eyes scanning like he expected danger to jump out from behind every mailbox. You’d call out his name and he’d freeze, then offer you a small, guilty smile before saying he had somewhere to be.
Every time, he looked like he wanted to say more but every time, he didn’t.
And slowly, painfully, the doubts began creeping in.
Maybe he’d outgrown you. Maybe he had new people now. Maybe some more exciting friends, better friends, people who weren’t just the girl who lived down the street. Maybe he didn’t want the reminder of his old life. Maybe being around you made him feel small again, or trapped, or guilty.
You tried to ignore it. Tried to push the thoughts away.But your heart wasn’t as tough as Jason’s, it never was
One night, walking home from a late shift, those doubts were the only things keeping your mind busy as you made your way down the cracked sidewalk. Gotham was too quiet that night. The kind of quiet that tasted wrong. You tugged your coat tighter around you, free hand wrapped firmly around your bag.
You were only three blocks from home when the attack came.
A man stepped out from behind a set of dumpsters, clothes ragged, face half-hidden under a grimy hat. His voice slurred as he demanded your wallet, your phone, anything he could grab. You tried to talk him down with your voice shaking and your hands raised, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him so fast it knocked the breath out of you.
You struggled, yanked yourself back, but he was stronger, rougher. You felt your heart leap into your throat as he shoved you hard against the brick wall, the impact exploding lights behind your eyes.
The edge of pain was just beginning to blur when something slammed into the man from the side. Hard enough that the sound cracked through the alley like a gunshot.
You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself. The attacker hit the ground with a choked yell, and a figure dropped down beside you; dark greens and reds flashing in your blurred vision.
Robin.
The new teenage one. The one the news claimed was ruthless and colder than the previous one. Gotham whispered a lot of rumors about him; some good, some bad. All you knew in that moment was that he fought like he was holding back a hurricane. One blow to the guy’s stomach, a twist of his arm, and he was down, groaning and clutching his ribs. A swift kick down into the man’s head and he was unconscious.
Robin didn’t even look at him. He looked at you.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was lower than you expected, not high and boyish but rough, almost familiar. His hand hovered near your shoulder without touching, like he wanted to steady you but wasn’t sure if he should.
“I-uh I’m okay,” you breathed, even though you could feel your shoulder throbbing and your cheek stinging. “Just… shaken.”
Robin let out a breath that sounded too emotional, too personal for someone who supposedly didn’t care about civilians. He stepped closer, slowly, as if making sure you wouldn’t flinch.
“Let me check,” he said, softer this time.
He tilted your chin gently, and the moment his glove touched your skin, something electric shot down your spine. His touch wasn’t clinical. It wasn’t detached.
It was careful.
Familiar.
Your heart stuttered because it wasn’t the costume that made you feel that. It was the way he touched you like he knew you. Like he had touched you before. Like he had held your bruised face before and hated seeing you injured.
You blinked hard and stepped back.
“Who… who are you?” you whispered.
Robin froze, barely breathing.
You stared at his face… the jawline, the shape of his mouth, the faint scar right along the bottom lip. The same scar you remembered from a stupid bike crash when Jason had been showing off in front of you when the two of you were not even teenagers yet.
Your stomach twisted.
No. No, it couldn’t be… But then he spoke.
“Let me walk you home,” Robin said, voice trembling in a way that felt like he was barely holding something in.
You heard it then.
The cadence. The softness underneath the rough edges. The way he lowered his volume, like he never wanted to sound threatening around you.
Jason.
It was Jason.
Everything inside you tilted sharply, breath catching as you tried to piece together every moment of distance, every half-excuse, every guilty look he’d given you these past months.
He stepped forward when you didn’t answer, hand lifting like he meant to touch your cheek again. But then he froze mid-motion, swallowing hard behind the mask.
“Please,” he said quietly. “Just let me take you home.”
And that was when you knew for sure.
Jason Todd didn’t say please to anyone.
Not unless it mattered.
Not unless it was you.
You reached out before your fear could stop you and gently placed your hand on his wrist, right where his glove ended. He jerked slightly at the touch—surprised, maybe scared—but he didn’t pull away.
You took a shaky breath.
“Jason,” you whispered.
And the way his shoulders dropped, the way his whole body sagged in relief and dread and something heartbreakingly vulnerable and it felt like your entire childhood came rushing back all at once.
He didn’t confirm it. He didn’t have to. Instead, he closed the tiny distance between you, lowering his forehead to yours like he had been holding himself together all night and finally couldn’t anymore.
“I was trying to keep you safe,” he said, voice cracking in the space between you answering a question you didn’t ask but you to knew was there.
“And instead,” you whispered back, “you broke my heart.”
He winced, like the words physically hit him.
“You’re not supposed to be part of this world,” he rasped. “I didn’t want you dragged into it.”
“And what about me?” you shot back, tears pricking your eyes. “Did you think disappearing would make me not care? That pretending you didn’t need me would make me stop loving you?”
His breath stuttered against your cheek.
“I never stopped needing you,” he murmured.
The air between you thickened, charged with everything you’d both left unsaid for years. His gloved hand rose and cupped your cheek carefully this time, reverent almost.
It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet. Just the softest brush of his forehead against yours, just his breath on your lips, just the trembling exhale of someone who had finally run out of excuses to stay away.
And you understood.Jason hadn’t pulled away because he stopped caring.He pulled away because he cared too much.
You slid your hand up to the side of his mask, your thumb brushing the edge.
“I want you,” you whispered, voice trembling but certain. “Not the distance. Not the lies. You. Jason Todd. My Jason.”
He shuddered softly, like the words cracked something open inside him.
And for the first time in a very long time, Jason didn’t run from the one thing he couldn’t protect himself against:
You.
You didn’t know who moved first.
Maybe it was you reaching for the edge of his mask with trembling fingers, or maybe it was Jason leaning into your touch with the kind of defeated gentleness that made your heart twist painfully. All you knew was the moment your thumb brushed the dark material, he let out a breath that sounded like surrender.
Not the kind forced by defeat
but the kind forced by truth.
Your voice shook. “Jason… please.”
He flinched at his own name. It was almost imperceptible, but you felt it. The way the word hit him somewhere raw. Somewhere he’d been trying to protect from everyone. Definitely including himself.
After a moment so fragile you were afraid to breathe, he lifted his hands to your wrists, guiding your fingers to the seam of his mask. His gloves were cold. His skin underneath them wasn’t.
He nodded once, slowly, painfully. “Take it off.”
Your throat tightened. “Are you sure?”
He hesitated only long enough to show you that trust wasn’t easy for him. Even now, even with you. Then he whispered, voice barely audible beneath the weight of everything he hadn’t said over the past year:
“I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
Your fingers curled around the mask and lifted.
It peeled away in one fluid, terrifying, intimate motion.
And there he was.
Jason Todd.
Your Jason.
Older, hardened, exhausted in a way that didn’t belong on a teenager’s face. A thin scar cut through his brow, hidden by his mask. you knew where that one came from as well. Some asshole in middle school pulled your hair and Jason started a fight with him. It didn’t last long but the kid mangaged to scratch Jason’s face; one going deep enough that it needed 3 stitches. His eyes, God, his eyes, looked the same and not the same all at once. They were sharp now, trained to catch every flicker of movement. But the softness you remembered was still there. The softness reserved only for you.
And the moment you saw him,really saw him,your chest broke open.
Tears flooded before you could stop them. Hot, sudden, unstoppable. You swallowed hard, but a small, shaky sob escaped anyway. Jason froze, eyes wide, pupils blown with something that looked like panic and confusion before he realized what was happening.
“Hey-hey, don’t cry,” he whispered urgently, cupping your face with both hands like he could physically stop the tears. “I didn’t mean to, shit, sweetheart, please don’t…”
But the more he tried to soothe you, the harder the tears came.
Because you could see it now.
All of it.
The months of distance.
The late-night disappearances.
The hollow smiles.
The way he’d flinched when you stepped too close or moved too quick.
The half-formed apologies he swallowed before he could speak them.
The guilt that clung to him like smoke.
You reached up and grabbed his wrists, not to push him away, but to hold him still, to keep him from running again. Your voice cracked as you forced out the words:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He closed his eyes like the question physically hurt him. at“Because I didn’t want you looking at me the way you are right now.”
The confession hit you so hard your breath stuttered. Jason’s thumbs brushed under your eyes, wiping tears even though they kept falling.
“I didn’t want you scared,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you thinking I was someone you had to worry about. By being scared for me…. or someone you were scared of. Someone you’d… regret knowing.”
Your heart twisted painfully. “I could never regret you.”
He shook his head, jaw tightening in a way that told you everything he hadn’t said yet was eating him alive.
“You don’t get it,” he rasped. “You don’t know the stuff I’ve seen. The things I’ve had to do. I went from stealing tires to fighting psychopaths with guns. I’m covered in bruises every day. I’ve broken bones I never told you about. I’ve come home bleeding and lied right to your face about it.”
Your breath caught. “Jason-”
“I distanced myself,” he said bitterly. “Because the closer you got to me, the closer you got to that world. Being close means people would come after you. This asshole isn’t even close to what i’ve seen and I didn’t want you caught in it… in any of it I didn’t want you anywhere near the shit I deal with. And the more I cared about you-” His voice cracked hard, and he had to look away. “-the more dangerous it felt.”
You reached up, gently guiding his chin back to you. “You cared about me?”
The look he gave you was devastating.
“I never stopped,” he whispered.
Your knees nearly gave out.
Jason swallowed hard, his breath trembling. “I thought cutting you out would keep you safe. Selfishly, I couldn’t even bring myself to cut you off completely. I still wanted to be around you, i just couldn’t be with you as much as I needed to.”
“But it just broke me,” you whispered.
He winced like you’d driven a knife into him. “I know. God, I know. Every time I saw you on the street, I felt like a coward. Every time you called my name, I wanted to run to you and tell you everything. But then I’d picture you like this.” His hand ghosted over the bruise forming on your cheek. “Hurt. Because of me.”
You shook your head, tears still spilling. “Tonight wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” he said fiercely, eyes blazing with guilt. “If I’d stayed close… if I’d been there instead of hiding…. he never would’ve gotten near you. I should’ve protected you.”
“You did,” you whispered. “You saved me.”
His chest rose and fell sharply. “Too late.”
“Jason,” you said, stepping closer until your body pressed lightly against his armor. “Look at me.”
He did, reluctantly, as though terrified of what he’d see.
“I’m not scared of you,” you said. “Not of who you are. Not of what you do. I’m scared of losing you.”
His eyes softened, something desperate and longing flickering through them. You felt the tension in him shift- not disappearing, but unraveling just enough for him to lean into your touch. He lowered his forehead to yours again, this time without fear, without hesitation.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. “Being in my life means danger. Secrets. Nights where I don’t come home. People hunting me. People hunting the people I care about. People hunting you.”
“Then don’t shut me out,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Let me decide if you’re worth the risk.”
His breath caught sharply. You watched it hit him… the realization that he couldn’t push you away anymore, not after everything he’d just confessed, not after you’d seen the truth behind the mask.
And God, he looked at you like you were the only good thing he’d ever been afraid of losing.
His hand slipped to the back of your head, pulling you closer in a painfully gentle hold.
“You always were,” he breathed, voice thick, “worth everything.”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The raw emotion in his eyes made your stomach flip, made your pulse jump, made your heart ache with the weight of all the years you’d spent wanting him without knowing if he wanted you back.
He did.
He had.
He always had.
Jason exhaled shakily. “I missed you so much it hurt to breathe.”
Your tears came harder, but they felt different now; softer, relieved, like a dam finally giving way.
“And I’m so damn sorry,” he whispered. “For shutting you out. For lying. For disappearing. For letting you think you weren’t important to me.”
You shook your head quickly, clutching the front of his suit like you were anchoring yourself. “You’ve always been important. You’re the one who didn’t see it.”
Jason’s breath stuttered out half a laugh, half a choked sob he wouldn’t allow himself to fully release. He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you with a kind of desperation that spoke louder than anything he could have said.
He buried his face in your hair, inhaling shakily.
You felt heat bloom in your chest with love, fear, relief, all tangled together.
After a moment, he whispered so quietly you almost missed it:
“Don’t give up on me.”
You tightened your arms around him. “Never.”
Something in him broke then
but not the kind of break that shatters.
The kind that finally lets the light in.
And in that dim Gotham alley, bruised and exhausted and clinging to each other like you were the only solid thing left in a city built on chaos, Jason Todd finally stopped running.
He let himself be held. He let himself be seen. He let himself want you.
And for the first time in far too long…
you didn’t feel like the girl he left behind.
You felt like the girl he came home to. The girl that was his home.
Jason didn’t let go of you the entire walk back.
Even after the masked attacker was long gone, after the adrenaline had begun leaking out of your bloodstream and leaving your body trembling in its wake, Jason kept one arm wrapped around your shoulders; protective, steady, grounding. The other hovered near his belt, always ready for a fight even now. You could feel the way his body curled instinctively toward you, angling himself between you and every shadow as if danger might erupt from the cracks in the pavement itself.
You didn’t speak at first. You couldn’t. Your throat was raw from crying, and the closeness of him, his warmth, his breath brushing your temple, the heavy, shuddering exhale he released every few seconds, left your mind spinning.
His mask hung from his fingers now, forgotten. Every streetlamp illuminated his face, and each time the light hit him, you saw the same thing:
He kept looking at you like he expected you to disappear.
“Are you cold?” he murmured at one point, even though you were pressed against him.
“No,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”
“You’re shaking.” He said, matter of fact.
“You’re shaking.” You shot back.
Jason let out a quiet, broken breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
He tightened his arm around you, drawing you closer. You could feel his heartbeat through the armor. Too fast. Too uneven. The rhythm of someone who’d almost lost something he couldn’t bear to lose.
He didn’t relax until your building came into view.
And even then it was barely.
When he guided you up the steps, his hand pressed lightly against your back, you had to swallow your racing thoughts. You’d walked home with Jason Todd a hundred times. A thousand. But this felt different. It felt like you’d stepped into some fragile, trembling liminal space that was caught between the past you shared and the future neither of you knew how to navigate.
You unlocked your door with shaky fingers. Before you could step inside, Jason lifted a hand to the doorframe and blocked it open.
“Wait a sec,” he murmured, scanning the interior with sharp, trained eyes. His voice dropped into that tone he used when he was operating that was low, alert, dangerous. But you also heard something gentler woven beneath it. Something terrified and protective. “Let me check.”
He moved through each room with fluid, practiced efficiency. Bedroom. Kitchen. Bathroom. Closet. Every space cleared like a soldier securing a perimeter. When he finally returned to the living room, he exhaled slowly and nodded.
“It’s safe.”
Safe.
You let yourself breathe for the first time since the alley.
Jason didn’t seem to know what to do with himself now that the immediate danger was gone. He hovered near the door, jaw clenched, hands tense at his sides like he was waiting for orders he wasn’t sure he deserved to follow.
“Jason,” you said softly.
He looked at you like the sound of your voice alone was enough to ground him.
“You can sit down,” you said. “You don’t have to act like you’re still on patrol.”
His lip twitched with almost a smile, but weighed down by too much guilt. “I can’t help it. Not when it’s you.”
Those words hit you so hard your breath stuttered.
Jason swallowed, shoulders tense. “Can I… stay for a minute? Just to make sure you’re really okay.”
You nodded. “Of course. I was just about to ask you to stay.”
He walked toward you slowly, like he was stepping into sunlight after being locked in a cell for years. When he reached you, he brought one hand to your cheek a soft touch, careful, almost reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered.
You leaned into his palm, eyes stinging again. “You scared me right back.”
His breath hitched. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”
“I’m glad I did.”
He closed his eyes just for a second and something inside him cracked open. Not violently. Not painfully. But with the soft, devastating sound of someone finally giving in.
When he opened them again, you could feel the air shifting around you.
He stepped closer, slow and uncertain, like he was drowning and you were the only thing he could swim toward.
“Can i-” His voice broke before he could finish the sentence. He tried again, quieter. “Can I be close to you?”
You nodded without hesitation.
He cupped your face with both hands and leaned in.
Your pulse hammered, your breath caught, every nerve in your body lit up at once and then his lips brushed yours.
Just barely.
A whisper of contact. A trembling, fragile, terrified brush of softness.
And then it deepened.
Jason kissed you like he’d been wanting to for years. Like he’d dreamed about it and woken up feeling guilty. Like he’d imagined it in moments of weakness and hated himself for it afterward. Like every time he’d pulled away from you, this was the thing that had hurt the most. Because it had, everything he had been wanting for years was right in front of him and he almost lost you.
His breath meshed with yours. His fingers slid into your hair. Your hands fisted in the collar of his suit as if you needed him close to stay upright.
It was dizzying, overwhelming and perfect.
When he finally pulled back, breath uneven, his forehead stayed pressed to yours.
And that’s when it hit you.
Your hands flew to your mouth. “Oh my God.”
Jason froze, eyes widening. “What…. did I hurt you? Did I go too fast? I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head rapidly, voice an octave too high. “No, no, you didn’t… uhhh… oh my God, Jason.”
He looked completely lost. Terrified, even. “Talk to me. Please.”
You dragged a shaky hand down your face. “I just kissed Robin.”
Jason blinked. Then blinked again. “…Okay, technically yeah?”
“And I kissed you,” you continued, voice pitching hopelessly upward. “Jason, I kissed my best friend.”
A slow, dawning realization spread across his face—and then a flush crept up his neck, softening his entire expression.
“You, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “You make it sound like those are two different people.”
“They feel like two different people!” you blurted out. “One is this impossible hero thats being hounded by the media and the other is you. my best friend who disappeared on me and then came back and saved my life and now I just… Jason, I don’t even know what I’m saying!”
He stared at you for a heartbeat.
Then another.
Then he laughed, not mocking, not dismissive, but soft and stunned and full of something heartbreakingly hopeful and a breath of fresh air compared to any of the feelings he had felt in the last hour.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping close enough to take your hands in his, “I’ve been both for a while, i’m so used to it.”
Your breath stopped dead in your chest.
He brushed his thumb across your pulse point, gently, slowly, as if trying to soothe the panic and awe and shock still radiating through you.
“And you,” he continued quietly, “you didn’t just kiss Robin.” His voice softened into something so intimate it made your stomach flip. “You kissed me.”
Your heart jumped painfully.
He tilted your chin up, gaze burning into yours with unguarded sincerity. “The guy who missed you every damn day. Who wanted to tell you everything. Who kept his distance because he cared too much. You kissed that guy.”
Your knees nearly buckled.
Jason caught you by the waist, steadying you with a breathless little smile. “And if you want me to, I’ll kiss you again.”
You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped, low and warm. “Just say the word.”
You didn’t say anything.
You pulled him in by the collar and kissed him again? harder, deeper, everything you felt spilling into the space between you.
His hands tightened around your waist, his breath stuttered against your lips, and this time there was no confusion, no shock, no panic.
Just want and relief. Jason.
And he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. Jason stayed the entire night.
Not hovering. Not pacing. Just… there. Close enough to touch, close enough to feel the warmth radiating through you like a blanket, close enough to remind you every few minutes that this wasn’t a hallucination born from adrenaline.
You sat together on the couch, your knees brushing, the soft light from a lamp casting shadows across his bare face. He had removed the last pieces of the suit and gloves, leaving him in a dark undershirt that clung to his shoulders and made him look impossibly young and impossibly older at the same time.
Every few minutes, you would catch him staring at you. Not in a dramatic or intense way but in a quiet, awestruck way, like he was still making sure you hadn’t disappeared. And every time he caught you staring back, he would smile. Small. Crooked. Gone in a heartbeat.
Eventually, exhaustion nudged its way into your bones, even though you were fighting sleep with everything you had. You didn’t want to miss a moment of this, of him. Not after everything you went through.
Jason noticed before you did.
“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his thumb beneath your eye. “You’re about to pass out sitting up.”
“I’m not,” you argued, moments before your head tipped toward his shoulder.
He chuckled softly and shifted so you could lean fully against him, your cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat slowed under your ear, calming with every breath you took.
It was warm. It was so safe. Better than anything you remembered feeling in months.
“I still can’t believe it,” you whispered sleepily. “That it’s you.”
Jason exhaled a shuddering breath, his fingers sliding tenderly through your hair. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
“Yes,” you mumbled, poking his ribs weakly. “You idiot.”
He laughed, the vibration humming through you. “I know. I know. I was trying to protect you.”
“That’s not how you protect people,” you argued quietly. “You don’t leave them in the dark and let them think they did something wrong.”
His hand stilled in your hair.
The guilt washed over him so strongly you could practically feel it settling into his bones.
“I know,” he said softly. “Believe me. Every day I didn’t talk to you, I hated myself a little more. I’d go on patrol with Bruce and I’d… I’d think about how I couldn’t even look at you without wanting to tell you everything.”
You blinked.
Once.
Slow.
“…Bruce?”
Jason froze.
You could feel it—his entire body going rigid beneath you.
“…Jason,” you said, very slowly sitting up. “What do you mean ‘Bruce’?”
He stared at you like someone who had just stepped off a cliff and only now realized there was no ground beneath him. “I—”
“Jason Todd,” you said, pointing a finger at him, “finish that sentence.”
His mouth opened... he closed it and opened again.
Then he groaned and dragged a hand down his face, muttering something that sounded remarkably like “I’m the stupidest man alive.”
“Jason.” You grabbed his wrist before he could truly hide behind his hands. “Tell me! Patrols with Bruce?!”
He dropped his hands and looked you dead in the eyes, clearly deciding that the truth, even catastrophic truth, was better than another lie.
“Bruce Wayne is Batman.”
Silence.
A stillness so deep and complete that even Gotham’s eternal nighttime hum seemed to pause.
You blinked once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then:
“BRUCE WAYNE?! BRUCE—Jason—BRUCE WAYNE?!”
He winced so hard it looked physical.
“Please keep your voice down,” he pleaded. “If Alfred hears you from halfway across the city he’ll kill me.”
“Jason,” you whispered, shaking him by the arm. “Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who owns half the city. The Bruce Wayne who showed up to your neighborhood as a billionaire social worker guy and then you mysteriously moved in with him. The Bruce Wayne who ‘donates to every charity on earth’ Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne who you took me to a few events where we would eat almost the entire chocolate fountain? That Bruce Wayne?”
“…Yes.”
“And he’s Batman?!”
Jason rubbed the back of his neck, miserable.l
You stood up and paced the living room in wide, frantic circles, hands in your hair, ranting in increasingly disbelieving spirals.
“Bruce Wayne is Batman. Bruce Wayne is Batman. That makes you! oh my god, I kissed Bruce Wayne’s sidekick. I kissed a Wayne Enterprises employee. I kissed…. holy shit, Jason!”
Jason made a strangled noise. “Don’t say it like that.”
“That means….oh my god…you know Batman personally!”
Jason stared at you like you’d announced the sky was green. “I am Batman’s partner!”
“That means I kissed Batman’s partner!”
“You kissed me,” he corrected quickly, standing up to grab your arms before you started spiraling hard enough to pass out. “You kissed Jason. Remember? Your childhood friend? The guy who stole your bike in third grade and proceeded to faceplant not even a house down. The dumbass who broke his arm doing parkour off your porch railing?”
You stared at him, breaths rapid, brain still connecting dots.
“And Bruce Wayne is Batman.”
Jason sighed dramatically. “Yes. And Alfred is going to murder me when he finds out I told you.”
You stopped pacing.
Your hands slid slowly up his chest until they rested over his heart, which beat quick and heavy under your palm. His own hands came up to settle on your waist like the motion was instinctive.
Some of the panic melted into something softer.
“So… what does that make us?” you whispered.
Jason swallowed hard. “I’m hoping… something. If you want. Something real. Something I should’ve asked for a really long time ago.”
Your fingers tightened in his shirt. “I do.”
His voice cracked slightly. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
The relief that washed over his face was almost enough to make your knees give out.
He leaned down and kissed you again, slow and steady and full of the kind of yearning that had stretched across years. It wasn’t frantic like before. It wasn’t adrenaline fueled or fear-soaked. It was warm, deliberate, grounding like he was kissing you in the calm after a storm neither of you thought you’d survive.
When he pulled back, he murmured against your lips, “So… dating, then?”
A laugh puffed out of you. “Yeah. Dating sounds about right.”
Jason grinned. Actually grinned. “Cool. Great. Can’t wait for Alfred’s blood pressure to skyrocket when I bring you home.”
Your eyes widened. “Wait? home? As in you want me to-”
“Well,” Jason said with a helpless shrug, “if we’re together, you’re gonna meet Bruce at some point. And Alfred. Definitely Alfred. Probably Dick too. And Tim. And… okay, there’s a lot more of us-”
“I have to meet Batman?” you squeaked.
“Technically you’ve already met him,” Jason pointed out. “Just… not formally.”
You groaned loudly, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, I’m going to have to go to Wayne charity galas with you and stay the entire time now. No sneaking out.”
Jason laughed, full and warm, tugging you back into his arms. “Absolutely. And I’ll hate every second of it unless you’re there.”
Your heart twisted in that stupidly joyful way it always did around him.
He kissed the side of your head, his voice soft and sure when he said: “You’re stuck with me now.”
And for the first time in a very long time, the future didn’t feel terrifying. It felt like something you wanted to run toward.
summary: bakugo knows that you are busy, but he keeps blowing up your phone. normally, the texts range from "i miss you" and "ditch them so we hang out" but you won't give in and miss out on girl's night. he shows up bloodied at your door and you realize your mistake.
word count: around 1.5 k
note: ok, so in all transparency.. i have written this story plot before but i am unable to get back into the account on here that i wrote from so i wanted to reimagine it. it was one of my faves from that account and i am so mad i can't get back in. a tad shorter than my previous writings but i just wanted to get this out there :D
Your living room looked like comfort had exploded inside it. Soft yellow lamps cast a warm haze across the walls, candles flickered on the coffee table, and someone had tossed a blanket over the back of the couch that no one actually planned to use. The air smelled faintly of popcorn, cheap perfume, and whatever fruity drink Mina had insisted on mixing for everyone. Music played quietly in the background, just loud enough to blend with the laughter. It was the kind of night you waited weeks for, the kind where you finally got to stop being responsible, stop worrying, and just sink into the couch with the two people who knew you inside out.
Your phone was the only thing killing the vibe. It lit up beside you like it was trying to send Morse code, buzzing every few seconds against the cushion. You made a point of not looking at it, turning your body more toward your friends like you could physically block the notifications with sheer willpower. You had warned Bakugo not to text you just because he wanted to talk like he has many times before. Mina was halfway through some ridiculous story about her coworker but kept gesturing at your phone every time it jumped. Even Jirou, who usually minded her own business, gave it a raised brow like it was misbehaving on purpose. Still, you ignore it.
By the tenth buzz, Mina leaned over with a dramatic gasp. “That thing is begging for attention,” she said, fanning her face like she was overwhelmed. “You better check before it combusts.”
You waved her off, taking a long sip of your drink. “Nope. Tonight is for us. The world can wait."
Jirou snorted as she plucked a pretzel from the bowl. “Pretty sure that’s Bakugo blowing you up. Dude probably melted his costume or stubbed his pride again.”
You rolled your eyes, though the tug in your chest made your pulse skip. “He knows I’m busy. He’ll survive for two hours.”
But you kept refusing to look, even when unease crawled low in your stomach. You wanted this night. You needed this night. There would always be another emergency, another explosion, another chaotic moment in a life where dating a pro hero meant constant unpredictability. Tonight wasn’t his. This was the night for you and you best friends to hang out and drink without a care in the world.
Right when you opened your mouth to retell some embarrassing story from high school, a thunderous knock slammed against the front door. The sound shot through the room like a shockwave. Jirou jumped high enough to knock into Mina, who caught her drink mid-spillage. Another hit landed, heavier, the kind that wasn’t asking for entrance but leaning—crying out for support.
Your blood froze.
That knock was familiar. Not the sound, but the weight behind it. You knew what it meant when someone’s body was the thing holding them upright.
You were on your feet before your friends could blink. Your heart was already pounding as you rushed to the entryway and tore open the door.
Bakugo practically collapsed forward.
He looked wrecked. His hero costume was shredded across his chest and arms, grime and smoke smeared over every scraped inch of skin. One of his gauntlets was hanging uselessly at his side, the metal cracked open like something had torn through it. Blood—old and new—had dried in streaks along his temple. His breathing was ragged, uneven, like each inhale scraped something raw.
He caught himself on your doorframe, his fingers digging in like he needed the wood to stay conscious.
“Katsu— Katsuki,” you choked out, voice breaking. “What the hell— what happened to you?”
His eyes were hazy but focused on you, that stubborn fire still burning somewhere behind the exhaustion. “I’m fine,” he muttered, which was the worst lie you’d ever heard from him. He swayed again. “Just… needed to get here.”
That stupid, soft admission knocked the air out of your lungs. You shoved all emotion aside and grabbed him before gravity could steal him. Mina darted forward automatically, opening space, and Jirou scrambled for the couch, clearing pillows like they mattered.
The moment you got him to the cushions, he sagged into them, every muscle unclenching all at once. You had never seen him so drained-not drained like after a hard mission, but drained like something inside him had been scraped too thin.
“Tell me where it hurts,” you said, hands already trembling as you reached for the med kit under the table.
He let his head fall back, eyes half-closed. “You know where it hurts.”
Which meant everywhere, but you needed actual answers. You grabbed the nearest clean cloth and turned to reach for the antiseptic—except your brain was running so hot with panic that your hand automatically grabbed your drink instead.
You soaked the cloth with the martini before you even realized it.
The cold alcohol hit the wound on his shoulder with a sharp sting, and he hissed loudly, eyes snapping open. Mina choked on a laugh. Jirou slapped a hand over her mouth but still snorted.
Bakugo sniffed the air, squinting. “Is that… are you cleaning me with a damn martini?”
You blinked, horrified at yourself. “I...okay...look...panic does things to people!”
He managed a crooked smirk even through the pain. “You fancy now? Dressing my wounds like I’m some cocktail garnish?”
Your face burned hot. “Don’t start with me. You showed up bleeding on my girls night!”
He groaned, rolling his eyes the way only he could. “Yeah, I know. Place smelled like fruit and gossip before I even knocked.”
“Then maybe don’t almost die on the doorstep next time,” you snapped, but your hands were gentle as you kept working, ignoring the fact that the room smelled like vodka and lemon peel.
Your friends drifted into the kitchen, whispering about giving you two space, though they were absolutely listening from around the corner. You ignored them and focused on the slow rise and fall of Bakugo’s chest, on the way his eyelashes trembled every time you touched a sensitive spot, on the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders as he let himself lean into the couch—and you.
When you pressed the last bandage into place, you sat back on your heels, letting the lingering panic ebb out of you. Your hands were still shaking. You hated that he saw it.
“You scared me,” you admitted quietly, wiping your palms on your leggings. “I thought you were just being dramatic texting me all night. I didn’t think you were...”
“I knew you’d fix me up,” he said, softer than you'd expected, voice frayed but earnest.
“You could’ve called,” you whispered.
“You wouldn’t have picked up,” he said simply. "In fact you didn't"
You opened your mouth to protest, but your phone—still lying abandoned on the couch...lit up again with the last of his missed messages. And there it was. The truth you didn’t want but couldn’t deny.
You sighed and slumped down beside him. He leaned against you slowly, heavy with exhaustion and trust. His arm brushed yours, warm despite everything, and he let his head rest against your shoulder like it was the only place he was willing to be.
“Next time,” you murmured as you brushed a thumb across his cheek, “try not to crash through my door covered in blood during girls night.”
He gave a tired grunt. “No promises. But this totally gained me some favors from you since you ignored me when I was hurt."
You laughed softly, even though your chest still felt tight. You kissed his forehead, letting the last of your fear melt into relief. His rough hand found yours and squeezed, gentle in a way he rarely let himself be.
Even torn apart, stubborn as ever, and smelling faintly like smoke and whatever disaster he’d crawled out of, he was still your Katsuki. The two of you heard Jirou and Mina say quiet goodbyes but the pair did not wait for a response before leaving the apartment and heading home
And as you held him close on that candlelit couch, martini-scented bandages and all, you knew he had come home because he knew you would be there for him after all.
summary: all your friends find other things to do at the carnival, leaving you and bakugo to hang out.
word count: around 3.2 k
note: i love bakugo's grumpy moods
The Winter Carnival Festival had always been loud, colorful, and filled with enough food stalls to make anyone sick if they were not careful. The students of Class 1-A had planned to go together as a fun trip for everyone to hang out more. Everyone had been excited, though in the way that meant they would probably scatter the moment they saw something shiny.
You arrived with the group near sundown. Lanterns lined the streets and warm lights flickered above the crowd. The air smelled like grilled chicken and sweet batter. Bakugo walked ahead with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked irritated, but that was normal. He had agreed to come because Kirishima begged him.
“Stick together, guys,” Iida called to the group.
They did not.
Mina spotted a candy sculpting booth and dragged Kaminari and Sero with her. Uraraka saw a shooting star show advertised on a sign and ran toward it, Midorya following closely behind. Todoroki wandered off without a word and ended up in the shaved ice line. Even Iida lost track of most of the groups while trying to keep everyone together.
You turned around slowly as the noise swallowed your friends.
“Well,” you said. “That happened fast.”
Bakugo stood beside you as if he had never intended to split off. He clicked his tongue. “Idiots. Always running around.”
“They’re excited,” you said.
“They’re annoying.”
You laughed. “Do you want to find them?”
“No. They can handle themselves. If they want something they’ll come back.”
You were not sure if that was true, but Bakugo already turned and started walking deeper into the festival. You followed him because you did not want to lose him too and be left alone. He slowed his pace to allow you to catch up and walk next to him.
“Try not to wander like the rest of them,” he muttered.
“I won’t.”
It was the closest he could get to saying he wanted you to stay with him.
You walked side by side through the warm glow of food stalls. People laughed and chatted. The music from the stage echoed down the street. Bakugo did not talk much, but he glanced at you every few minutes. Sometimes he checked if you were still next to him. Sometimes his eyes lingered for a little longer than he intended but everytime that you looked at him, you could never meet his eyes and making you think that he wasn't looking to begin with.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
He grunted. “Pick something.”
You pointed at a stall selling fried oreos. He made a face. “You would pick the weirdest sweet thing.”
“You asked,” you said.
Bakugo bought them anyway and he complained the whole time. “Tis better be good or I’m not buying anything else from this place.”
You took a bite and smiled. “It’s good.”
He took one for himself and tried it. He shrugged. “Not bad.”
You both walked as you ate. The crowd thickened. Lights blinked over game booths lined up in rows. You heard people cheering and bells ringing every time someone won a prize.
Bakugo slowed down when he saw the ring toss stand. A worker placed small toys near the back and called for challengers.
“Want to try?” you asked.
He scoffed. “That game is rigged.”
“You could still beat it.”
“I know I could beat it.”
You grinned. “Then prove it.”
Bakugo stopped walking. His eyes narrowed like he wanted to argue, but instead he stepped toward the counter. “Five rings,” he said to the booth attendant.
The worker handed him the rings with a worried smile. Bakugo was intense even when he was calm. He weighed the first ring in his hand, studying the distance. You noticed something change in his expression. He loosened his wrist ever so slightly.
The first ring landed cleanly on a peg.
The second did the same.
The third bounced once and settled perfectly.
The worker blinked. “Sir. That was impressive.”
Bakugo ignored him. He kept going until all five rings hit their marks.
“Damn,” you whispered. That was so attractive.
He gave a short nod like the result was expected. He turned to the prize shelf and pointed at the large stuffed fox sitting on the top row.
“Really?” you asked. “That one?”
“It’s the biggest. Why wouldn’t I pick it?”
The worker handed him the fox. Bakugo held it awkwardly, arms stiff, face unreadable. For a long moment he did not move. Then he shoved it toward you.
“Take it.”
You blinked. “You are giving it to me?”
“Don’t make it weird,” he said. “It’s just a prize. I don’t want to carry it around all night.”
You took it slowly. The fur was soft under your fingers. The fox had a bright orange tail and little golden eyes. You smiled without meaning to.
“Thank you,” you said.
Bakugo looked away. “Whatever.”
You continued walking. The fox sat tucked under your arm and you held it close. Bakugo kept glancing at it, then at you, then away again. He cleared his throat.“It looks stupid,” he muttered.
“It’s cute.”
“Yeah. If you like that kind of thing.”
“I do.”
He stayed quiet after that. His steps grew more relaxed. The tension in his shoulders eased. The lanterns overhead glowed brighter against the deepening night.
You reached the riverbank where the fireworks would start later. Small patches of grass lined the water. Families gathered on blankets. Solo musicians played soft melodies on string instruments.
Bakugo picked a spot a little away from the crowd and motioned for you to sit. You set the fox on your lap and looked out at the water.
“You sure you want to stay here?” you asked.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Good view.”
Silence settled between you that was not uncomfortable. Just quiet. Bakugo tapped the ground beside him with his fingers. His shoulders dropped further. It was rare to see him like this.
“You had fun today,” you said. "I'm not used to you having a good time."
“I didn’t say that.” He huffs.
“Didn't need to." You shrug and smile at him.
He shot you a sideways look. “I came here because Kirishima wouldn’t shut up about it. And because if I stayed in the dorms I’d hear someone screaming about something stupid.”
“But you’re glad you came?”
He did not answer at first. He stared out at the water. Lanterns floated down the river like tiny stars.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess.”
You smiled and leaned back on your hands. Bakugo watched you again, the soft glow of lights reflecting in his eyes. He seemed like he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
“What is it?” you asked.
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
He looked annoyed with himself more than you. “I just. Never mind.”
He pulled up one knee and draped an arm over it. A small breeze passed through his hair.
After a moment he tried again.
“I don’t hate hanging out with you,” he said.
You laughed softly. “That was almost sweet.”
“Don’t start.”
“Too late.”
He grumbled under his breath, but he did not look away. Instead his gaze softened a little.
The first firework shot into the sky and burst into gold. The sound rumbled through the ground. You sat closer without thinking, and Bakugo did not move away.
More fireworks followed. Red, blue, silver, each one rising in arcs of bright color. People gasped around you. The reflection shimmered on the river.
You felt warm. Not from the air, from him. From the fact he stayed by your side the whole night. From the way he kept sneaking glances at you even now. You hugged the fox tighter.
“I like the prize,” you said.
“You better. I didn’t destroy that game for nothing.”
“Is that why you picked the biggest one?”
He scoffed. “No. I picked it because it was the hardest to get.”
You smiled wider. “It’s okay to admit you did it for me.”
He went silent. Then he muttered, “It wasn’t for you.”
You rested your shoulder lightly against his arm.
He did not pull away.
When the final firework burst across the sky in a wash of gold, Bakugo spoke again. His voice was low enough that only you could hear it. “But I’m not mad you like it.”
You looked at him. His face was faintly red. The lantern light made his eyes soft.
You did not say anything. You did not need to. Instead, the two of you started to move closer and closer until-
"Hey lovebirds!! Curfew!!" Mina yells from the sidewalk, causing the two of you to jump away from eachother. The fox falls away from you and as the two of you start to get your things together, he mutters dumbasses and grabs the fox, handing it back to you.
"Do you maybe want to do this again sometime?" You ask him as you start walking towards your friends.
"Sure." He looks at you with a smile that he would never let anyone else call a smile but you.
summary: movie nights are a must in your friendgroup, but one night, you can't get ahold of any of your friends. .
word count: around 3.2 k
note: you know the drill, not fully edited lol.
You walk out of your room and down the hallway toward Sero’s, trying to keep your arms from shaking under the weight of all the snacks you bought the last time you managed to get off campus. You probably went overboard, but movie nights with your friends always turned into snack-devouring chaos, and you like being prepared. The hallway is quiet except for the soft hum of overhead lights, and the faint smell of fabric softener drifting from the laundry room. Everything feels strangely calm for a Friday night.
By the time you reach Sero’s door, your arms are begging for a break. You shift your weight and use your foot to tap lightly on the door. It feels like you are balancing an entire grocery store in your arms, and you hope he opens the door fast. Luckily, it only takes a few seconds before the knob turns and Sero appears, his hair slightly messy like he had been flopping around on his bed just moments before.
He smiles, steps aside, and immediately starts relieving you of half the snacks. His fingers brush yours for a brief second, and the tiny contact sends a warm flutter up your arm that you pretend not to notice.
“Have you heard from Mina or Kiri? I texted them earlier but they stopped responding.” Sero asks as he sets the snacks on his dresser beside the TV. He grabs the rest from you without hesitation, like it is the most natural thing in the world to help you get settled.
You pull your phone out of your back pocket, screen lighting your face as you check your messages. “No. Last thing I got from Mina was like an hour and a half ago. Kinda weird that everyone went silent.”
“Yeah.” He sits on the bed, leaning back against the wall like he has done this exact routine a thousand times. You join him on the other side, tucking your legs under you. The bed dips slightly with your weight, pulling you subtly closer to him. He starts calling Bakugo, then Kirishima, but both go straight to voicemail. His eyebrows lift in mild disbelief as he lowers his phone.
You text Mina and Denki, tapping quickly, switching between apps just in case someone read your messages but forgot to reply. “Nothing. And Mina is literally the one who planned all of this.” You groan and drop your phone beside you.
Sero gives you a small smile, almost sympathetic, and you cannot help returning it. His smiles always feel a little contagious.
“Want to just start the movie? They are already pretty late.” He shrugs lightly.
You gasp dramatically and put a hand to your chest. “Wow. You really want me out of here. Just say the word and I can find somewhere else to be.”
His mouth falls open like you have accused him of something horrific. For a moment he genuinely seems to be searching for a defense, which makes a soft laugh burst out of you.
“I am kidding.” You say quickly. “Let’s just start it. If they show up later, we can spoil every important moment for them.”
He laughs, relieved, and grabs the remote. The room dims slightly when the movie starts, the soft glow of the TV washing over the bed. He stands again, rummages in his hammock, and pulls out a blanket. It is warm from being in the pile of blankets he always keeps there, and he hands it to you without thinking twice.
You spread it across your lap and try not to read too much into the fact that he remembered your favorite cookie when he hands it to you a moment later. His attention shifts back to the screen, but the closeness between you shifts too. When he sits down again, he is noticeably closer. Maybe a few inches. Maybe more. Enough for your shoulders to pick up on the warmth radiating from his.
You pretend to focus on the movie. You really try. But the longer you sit there, the more aware you become of him. His fingers tapping quietly on the blanket. His breath slowing as he gets comfortable. The faint scent of his shampoo, something clean and warm that makes your pulse jump in a way you absolutely do not want to acknowledge out loud.
Halfway through the movie, you realize you have no idea what has been happening on screen. Instead you are painfully aware that you have slowly drifted closer too. You keep telling yourself it is just because the bed is soft and slopes inward. Or because you are sharing a blanket. Or because friends sit near each other all the time.
Except your heart is beating too quickly for this to feel normal.
Mina picked this movie. Normally you and she would be clutching each other and squealing dramatically the second the leads confessed their feelings in the rain. You can practically hear her voice in your head telling you to pay attention, that this is the best part.
But the idea of squealing next to Sero feels impossible. Not when his arm is so close that your fingers twitch with the urge to shift even closer. Not when every quiet moment is filled with the warmth between you instead of the movie.
Not when your feelings are already doing enough squealing inside you to drown out the entire soundtrack.
The movie continues to play, but it has become nothing more than background noise. The glow from the screen paints soft shapes across the walls, and the warmth from the blanket and Sero’s shoulder makes the air feel almost too cozy. You keep telling yourself to focus on the movie, but your attention drifts to the way Sero shifts beside you or how his knee brushes against yours every so often.
Then his phone buzzes loudly against his thigh, vibrating hard enough to jolt both of you.
He picks it up with a relieved sigh. “It is Mina. Finally.”
He taps the screen and sets the phone between you so you can both hear. The speaker crackles as the call connects.
“Mina, where are you guys? You were supposed to be here forever ago.” He sounds mildly annoyed, but mostly just confused.
There is no normal greeting. Instead, Mina practically shouts, her voice exploding out of the speaker.
“Have you two kissed yet?”
You make a sound that is half gasp and half dying bird noise. Your entire body goes stiff as heat rushes up your neck. You stare at the phone like it personally attacked you.
Sero freezes. His shoulders pull taut, and his hand clenches around the blanket. For a heartbeat, neither of you breathes.
You open your mouth to say literally anything, but what comes out is a helpless, “Mina, what are you talking about?”
Mina ignores the question completely. “Do not play dumb. You two are alone in his room with snacks and a movie and a blanket. Do not tell me nothing is happening.”
Something thuds on her end, like someone trying to steal the phone. Then Denki's voice yells in the distance "I am serious, have you guys made out yet? Everyone is waiting."
Before either of you can form a real sentence, Sero blurts out the first thing that escapes his brain.
“Not yet.”
The second the words are out, his whole body goes rigid. His eyes widen. His mouth stays slightly open like he hopes he can pull the words back in.
You blink at him, stunned. “Not yet?”
He looks like a deer caught in a spotlight.
Mina and Denki, unfortunately, hear everything and gasp as if they just witnessed the greatest plot twist of their lives. “I knew it. I knew something was happening. Finally. I swear, if you two do not confess soon, I am coming over there to drag you together”
Sero panics and hangs up. Silence slams into the room. Heavy. Warm. Completely overwhelming.
The phone screen goes dark in his hand. He stares at it like it betrayed him on a spiritual level. His shoulders sag a little as he slowly lowers the phone into his lap.
Then he turns toward you. His face is red. His expression is the most painfully embarrassed you have ever seen him.
“I did not mean to say that.” His voice is soft, rough around the edges. “I mean. I did not mean to say it out loud.”
You swallow, your heartbeat thudding against your ribs. “So you meant it in your head?”
His eyes flick away, then back to you, like he cannot decide where to look. “I was just trying to shut them up. I was not trying to make things weird. I swear. I was not thinking.”
You can feel your stomach flip, but you try to keep your voice steady. “It is not weird. I just… was surprised.”
He meets your eyes again, and there is something vulnerable there. Something open.
“I guess it is out there now.” His voice drops. “I dion't want to make you uncomfortable.”
You take a slow breath, the blanket warm around you. Your fingers twitch near his, close enough to touch.
“You did not make me uncomfortable,” you say. “Just very aware.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Aware?”
“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “Aware of how close we are. Aware of the fact that those two dumbasses might not be completely wrong.”
He lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, but it is nervous and soft and hopeful all at once.
“Then I am kind of glad I said it,” he admits. “Even if it was the most embarrassing moment of my life.”
You smile, feeling your chest warm. “It was pretty embarrassing.”
He groans and hides his face in his hands. “Please do not remind me.”
You nudge his shoulder gently. “I liked the part where you said yet.”
He freezes again.
Then slowly, he lowers his hands and looks at you with wide, warm eyes that make your pulse jump. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did say that.” The room stays quiet after Sero lowers his hands. His face is still flushed, his breathing uneven, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach twist in the best way. The movie flickers across his features, painting shifting shadows along his jaw.
You shift closer without thinking, the blanket rustling between you. His eyes follow the movement, then flick down to your mouth for barely a second before he catches himself. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing.
Your hand moves first. You let your fingers rest lightly on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. He goes still, not pulling away, not speaking, just watching you with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
When you lean in a little, his breath catches and you ignore how fast your heart is beating.
Sero moves slowly, like the moment is fragile enough to break if he rushes. His hand lifts until his fingertips brush your cheek, hesitant at first, then firmer when you tilt into his touch. His thumb drags softly along your skin, and the warmth of it sends a quiet shiver through you.
He closes the space between you inch by inch. His forehead touches yours, and for a second neither of you breathes. You can feel the soft tremble in his hands, the nervous rise and fall of his chest.
Then his lips meet yours.
The kiss is gentle, warm, almost cautious, like he is memorizing the shape of you with slow, careful pressure. His fingers slide from your cheek to your jaw, anchoring you to him as you lean closer.
You exhale into the kiss, and he responds with a small, soft sound that vibrates against your lips. His other hand finds your waist, fingertips brushing your side as if he is not sure he is allowed to hold you yet. When you press closer, he finally lets his hand settle there, pulling you in with a subtle, tentative tug.
The kiss deepens just a little before he pulls back, breath warm against your face. He stays close, noses brushing, his eyelashes fluttering as he tries to steady himself.
You do not give him time. You lean in again, kissing him softly, slower this time, coaxing, savoring. His hand slides up your back, his thumb tracing a small circle that makes your breath hitch.
When you part, you stay pressed against him, your forehead resting against his cheek. His chest rises and falls against yours, warm and steady.
The silence between you feels full now. Comfortable. Charged. Certain.
Sero lets out a quiet exhale and presses a small kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there longer than he probably means to. His fingers curl gently at your side as if he is afraid to let go.
You stay like that—close, warm, tangled in each other—as the forgotten movie keeps playing in the background. You fix the blanket, now covering both of you and you laugh.
"I cannot believe that Mina and Kaminari were our wingmen from over the phone. " You look towards him with a large smile.
"Well," He admits "It worked wonders."
The last half of the movie was forgotten as well as the two of you instead find yourselves asleep. The DVD menu plays over and over until the tv turns off on its own.
Morning light slips through the blinds, soft and warm. You’re half awake, pressed comfortably against Sero’s chest, the blanket tangled around both of you. His arm rests securely around your waist, like he settled there overnight without even thinking.
The door swings open.
Mina’s voice explodes into the room. “GOOD MOR- oh. Oh my god!”
Kirishima nearly trips trying to peek over her shoulder. Denki crashes into both of them because, of course, he does.
All three of them go completely still before breaking into matching, ridiculous grins.
Sero shoots upright, hair a mess, blanket slipping off one shoulder. His arm instinctively pulls you closer for a second before he realizes what he’s doing. You sit up too, heart pounding, trying to untangle your legs without looking like you’re trying.
Mina throws her hands in the air. “It worked. They’re cuddling. They’re actually cuddling.”
Denki pumps both fists. “Operation Ditch Them Until They Sort Out Their Mutual Pining is officially complete.”
Kirishima nods, very seriously. “Honestly, it went better than expected.”
You stare at them. “You ditched us. On purpose.”
Mina beams like she deserves a medal. “Obviously. You two have been tiptoeing around each other for months. We were helping.”
Sero groans into his hands. “You scheduled movie night just to not show up.”
Denki shrugs. “Strategic scheduling.”
Kirishima gestures at you and Sero on the bed, still close enough your knees brush. “Look. It clearly paid off.”
Your face burns. “This is… ridiculous.”
Mina leans against the doorframe, grinning. “Ridiculously effective.”
They eventually file out, leaving behind a chorus of teasing and a final “Breakfast in ten, lovebirds” from Denki with a manic giggle to follow.
The door closes. Quiet settles, warm and slow.
Sero lets out a long breath and falls back onto the pillows, covering his face with one hand. “They’re never gonna let us live this down.”
You lie back beside him, close but not quite touching. “Probably not.”
He turns his head toward you, eyes soft, a blush still lingering across his cheeks. After a moment, he reaches over and lightly brushes his fingers against yours, leaving the choice to you. You curl your fingers around his without thinking. He swallows, voice a little rough. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad it happened.”
Your chest tightens. “Yeah. Me too.”
He laughs under his breath, nervous and sweet. “Truth is… I wanted to kiss you way earlier. Way before last night.” His thumb strokes gently along your knuckle. “I just didn’t want to mess anything up.”
Your breath catches. “You could’ve told me.”
He shakes his head, smiling softly. “I liked being your friend. I liked all of it. I didn’t want to rush something that felt good already. But…” He looks at you again, eyes warm and a little vulnerable. “I’m really glad it finally happened. With you. Like that.”
You shift closer, shoulder brushing his. “I’m glad too.”
His smile grows, slow and real. “Then I guess they were right to ditch us.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t tell them that.”
He laughs quietly, the sound warm in your chest. “Never.”
He squeezes your hand again, and you squeeze back, both of you lingering in that soft morning quiet long after the squad’s voices fade down the hall.
He squeezes your hand again, thumb brushing lazily over your skin. The room feels quieter now, warm and private, the kind of quiet that makes every small movement feel important.
Sero shifts a little closer, close enough that his knee touches yours again. He keeps his eyes on your hands, like he’s working up the nerve for something, then finally lifts his gaze back to you.
“Can I tell you something else?” His voice is calm but there’s a thread of courage beneath it, steady and intentional.
You nod. “Yeah. Of course.”
He sits up a bit, leaning on his elbow, watching you with a look that feels different. Braver. More certain. “I didn’t just want to kiss you earlier. I wanted… this.” His free hand moves slowly, giving you time to pull away, and settles gently at your waist. “All of it. Being close to you. Waking up with you here.”
Your breath catches, but you don’t move away. In fact, you shift even closer, and his fingers tighten in quiet relief.
He keeps talking, softer now. “I didn’t think I’d ever actually get to have it. So waking up like that…” He smiles, small and sincere. “It felt really good.”
You feel your heart climb into your throat. “It felt good for me too.”
That’s all he needs.
He leans in toward you, slow enough to see every flicker of emotion in his eyes. His forehead brushes yours first, testing, giving you a chance to back out. You don’t.
You tilt your head slightly, nudging closer.
His breath hitches. “Okay. Good.” His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, gentler than last night, lingering like he’s learning the shape of it. His hand at your waist pulls you just a little closer, confidence growing second by second. The kiss deepens, still sweet but firmer now, certain.
When he pulls back, his eyes stay half-lidded, fixed on you. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since the second we fell asleep.”
You laugh under your breath, heat blooming in your cheeks. “You could’ve just said that.”
“I’m saying it now.” His thumb traces a slow line along your hip, teasing warmth spreading through you. “And now that I’m saying things… I want more mornings like this. With you.”
You feel your pulse skip. “Then you’re going to have to hold my hand when we walk into breakfast.”
He grins, brilliant and a little mischievous. “That’s not even close to the bravest thing I plan on doing.”
You raise a brow. “Oh? And what’s braver than that?”
He leans in again, lips ghosting your cheek. “Wait until after breakfast.”
And with that, he stands, stretching, offering his hand down to you.
His smile is soft, sure, and every bit the braver version of him you knew he had in him.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go face the chaos together.”
summary: the threat of white walkers has everyone freaking out, you want to train and learn how to fight to stand your ground. Podrick was more than willing to help you but you are kind of a lost cause.
word count: around 2 k
note: im not complaining but i have been in such a podrick bubble that i can't think much more past a story idea before a podrick story comes to mind haha. also, i did kind of write y/n as sort of weak because i really just wanted her to have more time working and training with podrick... and brienne for some girltime haha. just like last time, not completly edited but will probably be in the future. i just wanted to get this posted.
Podrick swings his sword, the loud clang of your own rings loud as it come into contact. You slide yours out from under him and move to swing at him, but he is quicker, the blunt edge hitting your shoulder.
“God dammit.” You throw your sword down and take a deep breath.
“You need to steady yourself on your feet more, it gives you more stability to move quicker.” Brienne advises. She has been watching Podrick try and train you for half the day now and you were still struggling.
“It’s okay, you’ll get there. Let’s work on foot placement for a bit. Brienne is right.” He tosses his own on the ground and walks towards you. He lightly kicks your foot, moving it to where he directs. “Now, unlock your knees… you’re a bit tense.”
Tense indeed you think, but shove the thought down. This is a matter of life and death, and it is looking like death will be coming sooner than later.
“Right. Now, swing without the sword.” You swing and he catches your arms and holds it in position. “Your goal is to keep a good grip on the sword, but have your arms be ready to bend and turn at a moments notice.”
With his hands still on his arms, you twist. He tells you to try it with a sword now and you bend down and pick yours up. Using the blunt side, you do a few practice swings towards him. He smiles brightly at you and picks his own up.
“Let’s try this again.” He says, no sign of annoyance towards still having you show you the basics. This sparring session goes better than the last but it still doesn’t take long for Podrick to land a hit towards your head.
You groan. “You’re even better than me at stopping before impact. I think i would have taken your head clean off.” Brienne chuckled from behind you but straightens her face when you look at her. “I already know I would die here and now if I tried to practice you with.”
“There’s no shame in going into the Stark crypts, you’ll be with Sansa and Tyrion.” Podrick says softly. “You’ll be way safer down there.”
“I want to fight though.” You say and rub your face with your hands. “I can’t just sit around and wait for people around us to die. I need to do something,”
“Y/N, I fear you would die up here… this is bigger than we are ready for.” Brienne says, giving you the honest truth. Before she or Podrick can say anything else, you turn around and stomp off towards your bed chambers. You slam the heavy door behind you and plop onto your bed as you begin to cry.
Growing up, you knew you would never be as powerful as your cousins but you wanted to be so much like them. After your widowed father, Catelyn’s brother, died of a high fever when you were just a babe, she and Ned took you in. You always knew who your true parents were and that Ned and Catelyn loved you - you were nothing like that children they shared. You noticed that Catelyn treated you way better than she did Jon and it was never like she treated you less than… you just knew it was a different kind of love. Your siblings never treated you any different but you and Jon had more of an understanding for each other. A knock brings you out of your own head and towards the door.
"Y/N, We did not mean to upset you... I am sorry." Podrick says from out side of your room.
"Leave me alone." You yell and pull the blanket over you. It does not take long before you have drifted off to sleep.
You are woken up with a start. "Brienne? What are you doing in here?" You ask once you are able to see the figure on the end of your bed.
"I gave you the night to sleep away your anger, but today I want Podrick to work with you more. If you still struggle... I will force you into the crypt myself." She glares at you as much as she can manage seeing she truly wasn't angry at you. "Pod is ready for you in the yard with sparring sticks."
"What? Like I am a child?" You ask.
"Well, you are training at the level of one." She admits. "But this will allow you two to actually hit each other. You both were overcompensating not hitting the other with the sharp points. Now I want you to actually hit that boy... maybe you will know some sense into him." She gives you a slight smile at that and walks out of the room to give you some privacy to get ready.
Once you are ready, you step outside and just like Brienne said, Podrick was standing in the middle of the courtyard with some sparring sticks laid around him. He is talking with another soldier and does not notice when you walk up behind him and hit him in the side with one of the sticks.
"I am very good with stealth move." You give Podrick a large smile at his confused look. It breaks into a smile when he realizes it was you that hit him and why. The solider breaks away, offering both of you the pleasantly of luck on your training.
"Stealth won't really be your saving grace for this, Y/N." Podrick admits and gets his stance ready. He waits for you to do the same. You can tell he goes easy on you but you put up a decent fight, landing a few hits on his sides when you have the opportunity. "Now imagine you hate me and really want to see me get defeated."
That catches you off guard and he lands a "fatal" blow towards your head.
"Hey, no fair. The white walkers are not going to speak so that deserves a re-do." You pout. "And besides, I could never feel hate when I am looking at you so that's out of the question."
He blushes and gets into his starting position again. "You ready?" When you nod, the two of you begin sparing again. This time lasts longer than before and with you landing the fatal blow.
"See, your strength is in there, you just need to focus on fighting and the posture will come to you." Podrick gives you a large smile and you send one back to him. "Now again."
He still goes a tad bit easy on you, but you are able to beat him 5 out of 7 times that the two of you spar.
"Alright, now me." Brienne says, Podrick stands away from you and looks at her with a face you can't figure out.
"I don't know if that will be for the best?" He says but it comes out as a question.
"No, its fine. I need to be able to fight... Brienne will be a good test to see how well I have gotten today... or at all." You say the last part to yourself and blush when Podrick looks at you. He totally heard that you think to yourself but get ready all the same. Brienne nods at you, signaling to begin.
Sparing with her lasted around 5 seconds. "What the fuck." You ask, turning around to see Podrick holding up the sparing stick that hit you in the back.
"You aren't going to only come across just one all the time." You turn around and look at Brienne. The woman has a smile across her face like you and Podrick have never seen.
"I hate that you are right." You grumble.
"I thought you said you could not feel hate when it comes to him, Y/N." Brienne asks. Your mouth drops open.
"Really Brienne? I thought you were on my side." You fake sadness but swing your sparring stick at her, pointing the would be pointy end at up at her throat. You turn around on your heel and do the same to Podrick. "I came back from the dead and killed you both."
Podrick laughs. "I, for one, hope you don't die, but that would be funny to see."
"Okay, Brienne lets do this for real." You put your feet into place again and offer up a decent defensive spar before she lands a hard hit to your arm. "Again." You say and hours pass as you and Brienne work towards you getting better.
"We should take a break. You need to eat and get some water in you." Brienne grabs the stick from your hands and motions for you to go to the dining hall.
The two of you make your way there and each grab a plate and a goblet of water. He sits in front of you on the table and you begin to eat, falling into a silence.
"Podrick?" You ask, he stops eating and looks to you. "Should I just go into the crypt with Sansa?"
He looks away and back towards his food. "I am serious Podrick.... I only won against you those times because you were going easy - ... dont even try to lie and say you weren't. I think I would be safer being with her and Tyrion than I would here. It just makes the most sense."
He looks back at you. "You want my honest opinion?" You nod. "Go with Tyrion... I think I would do a lot better fighting if I knew you were safe."
Your heart drops knowing that he was right, you would just be a distraction for him if he had to break focus away from fighting the white walkers.
"I will go there then."
There was not much sound that could be heard from the crypt. You can imagine it through, the screams of so many people, the dying wails... you knew it was happening right above you and there was nothing that you could do. You sit away from everyone, in your own little bubble but in an instant, your place is crowded from those that are running away from the dead. They climb out of the walls, each a Winterfell ancestor back from the dead. Someone's elbow makes contact with your forehead, knocking you down and then its all black.
"Y/N! Y/N. Oh gods, please wake up. I can't lose her." Am I dreaming? Everything is black and the voice sounds so far away. Hands stroke your hair as everything starts to become more clear. A pounding in your head also starts, but all you can focus on is that when you open your eyes, Podrick is cradling you in his arms. Tears are falling down his face as he tries to wake you up. He is so focused on waking you up, he almost doesn't see that your eyes are open and you are giving him a smile that is just barely there.
"Podrick, you are alright." You whisper. The pounding in your head gets harsher and harsher but you push yourself up until you are laying your head into Podrick's neck. "You are alright."
"I thought you were dead. I told you to go into these crypts... you could have died down here."
"Podrick, but I didn't." You put your hand over his cheek, wiping under his eye with your thumb as you look at him... you always knew he was handsome but sitting there with your face so close to his and nothing else around you mattering. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen. "I am safe. I am alive. Podrick -"
He cuts you off by smashing his lips into yours, with a hunger of exactly what he was feelings. Almost losing you gave him the confidence he needed.
"I should have told you so long ago but I am so in love with you Y/N... I will regret the time I could have had next to you if I just gained the courage to tell you... but almost losing you made me realize that we need to live in the moment and I love you." He begins to ramble on but you stop him this time with a kiss. You pull away and just stare at him.
"Podrick, I think I could marry you right now." And your lips meet again.
pairing: podrick payne x starkF!reader [very very very minor theon x reader]
summary: when podrick sings, it brings forth memories of all that brought you back home to winterfell
word count: around 3 k
warning: first imagine on this account so i hope you like it ♡ i have missed GOT and Podrick so much so I stated rewatching it and it is really bringing me back not fully edited so apologies if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes... ill probably get around to editing this at some point
It has been years since you last saw any of your siblings – the Starks having been separated when your father was marked as the King’s Hand by Robert Baratheon. Now, you and your siblings have lost your father, mother, eldest, and youngest brother. A lie from Queen Cersei started so much death, hatred and scattered your already separated family. Your heart hurting as you thought about what all the years have brought to your family. Now, back in Winterfell, it does not even seem real at points.
Podrick sits down next to you, startling you away from your own head. “Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.” He hands you a cup filled with wine. “Figured you would want something.”
“You would not believe.” You breathe out a small laugh. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, knowing what the upcoming hours are going to bring with the threat of white walkers now a definite as so many came to Winterfell, bracing what was once your home as a battleground. A door creaking open causes Podrick and you to look towards the people walking into the room. Jamie, Tyrion, Tormond, Davos and Brienne all found a spot in the room around the fire that was no match to the cold of the area. Even though the group of you all were nervous and uncomfortable with the complete unknown of what will come any minute now, you all have conversations about anything and everything to not have the silence bring unwanted thoughts. Tyrion, hands Podrick and I another pitcher of wine.
“We are going to need as much as we can manage it seems.” Tyrion takes it back once we fill our cups. “You know what I think I regret the most?” Tyrion asks about the room.
“What is that?” I ask, taking a large drink of my wine.
“Never finding out what Pod did with those women back at King’s Landing.” Heads whip towards the man sitting next to me, who chokes on his wine.
“That is not a conversation I would like to have in front of two ladies.” He blushes, looking at Brienne and you.
“Oh, come on, how many people can say that they had prostitutes not take the money for the services?” Your jaw drops, not having heard about this at all.
“Again, I would rather not talk about this.”
“I think I want to know.” You say, smiling at him and taking another drink.
“Yes, because you want to know what he can do.” Tormund says, grinning at the two of you. Now it is your turn to blush.
“Leave them be, they don’t want to talk about each other… even if they should do something about the tension the two of them have had since we found Y/N at the tavern years ago.” Brienne smirks at you.
Your mouth drops open at your friends’ words. “Brienne, you wound me.” You say making the group laugh.
Conversations stray away and more wine is drunk. “It’s strange isn’t it – we all once fought against your family Y/N… at one time or another and now here we are, in their castle, ready to defend it together.”
“At least we will die with honor.” Brienne chimes in.
“I think we will live.” Davos snorts at Tyrion’s comment. Podrick looks at you and the two of you smile. “I do. How many battles have we survived?”
Tyrion lists off the battles and fights the group have encountered. Your head whips towards Brienne when Tyrion talks about hers, calling her Sir then correcting himself.
“Why the fuck can’t you be a night?” Tormund asks after she says she can’t be a Knight.
“I never actually wanted to be a knight.” She makes eye contact with Podrick.
“I am not King, but I would Knight you 10 times over.”
“You do not need a king; any Knight can knight someone. IU will prove it,” Jamie takes out his sword and tells Brienne to kneel.
“Do it.” Y/N whispers towards her. The woman smiles and slowly walks towards Jamie, kneeling in front of him.
“In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brace. In the name of the father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Brienne of the Tarth, I knight of the seven kingdoms.” Brienne stands up, you notice her fighting back the tears that threaten to leave her eyes. You begin the claps, and everyone joins in.
Tyrion cheers for her. “Ser Brienne of Tarth. Knight of the Seven kingdoms.!” Brienne smiles and you give her a large smile.
She walks up to you and Podrick. “Knighthood looks great on you.” You tell her. She smiles and grabs her cup, taking a drink.
Conversations die down a little after, you stare at the flames in the fireplace, letting your mind be empty for a few moments.
“We are out of wine.” Davos says, you turn your head away from the heat and look around the group. Everyone looks tired but no one wants to leave just yet.
“How about a song? Ser Davos?”
“You’ll pray for a quick death.”
“Ser Brienne?” She shakes her head. Tormund grunts at Tyrion before the man can even ask.
Podrick begins to sing, catching you all off guard. As he sings, memories of what lead you here begin to make their way to the front of your mind.
High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghost.
Years ago, you remember your father showing you the crypts of your family. Telling you the history of the Stark family, something he wanted all his children to learn and remember. Giving each of you a history lesson on making a name for yourself through being good and true. You remember trying to confess your crush on Theon, but he only responded back with anger. When you went and cried to your older brother Robb, he wanted to hurt the boy. You stopped him, reminding him of the lessons your father taught both of you. Instead of fighting Theon, you and your brother distanced from him. That came to a stop when King Robert Baratheon visited Winterfell and asked your father to be the Hand of the King. Once avoiding Theon, you changed courses once your father told you that you would accompany him alongside your sisters to King’s Landing. After he broke the news, you ran to the stables looking for Theon and you found him. Once he realizes you are standing behind him, he wiped the tears away from his eyes trying to hide that he was crying.
“Please don’t let me go.” You plead with him.
“Your father will never allow this, and you know it.” He says his voice is nothing but a whisper.
“I wish you cared about me the way I care about you.” You sobbed, the cries breaking through.
“I do… it’s why I pushed you away. You deserve someone who is better than just a Ward.”
“I do not want anything more than you.”
“You are the eldest Stark daughter. That does not matter. You deserve a prince, not a prisoner.”
“I have loved you since I was a child Theon, my father has raised us to be good… I do not want to give my heart to someone else when it belongs to you.”
“Do not say that.” Theon begins to cry, not caring now about the tears that now fall down his face.
“Y/N.” Robb yells into the stables. “Father is waiting on you. Sansa and Arya are ready.” You and Theon hear his footsteps get closer but neither of you do anything. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you.
“I do not want to go.” You look at your brother. Theon chokes back a sob and you fight to not let your cries out either.
“I know.” He rushes forward and engulfs you into his arms. It is then that your cries come out, guttural sobs as you realize for certain – Theon and you will not work and never would have. You do not let yourself look at Theon as he leaves you and Robb in the stables.
Hours later in the carriage, being driven away from the only place that you have known as home, you keep your mind busy by committing what your family looks like to memories, unsure of the next time you will see them again.
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found.
Years later you find yourself working at the Tavern, a few days journey north of King’s Landing, having been hidden and rushed away after the public beheading of your father. Arya and you disappeared from King’s Landing, not getting a chance to see each other or Sansa before the Stark daughters were split up. When you heard the news of the murder of Bran and Rickon from the hands of Theon, you could have died on the spot. Some random travelers breaking the news of just how heart breaking it was that the Stark family should see so much death in just a few short years. They had no idea that they were speaking to the now eldest Stark of course, as they ordered their food right after talking about the charred remains of the two young boys. Not much longer after did you hear about the death of your mother, your brother Robb, his wife and their unborn child at the wedding of your uncle. You remember the nights when you cried so hard you threw up. You now knew that you only had Jon, Arya and Sansa linked to you.
Everything came crashing down for you after a while, just as you once feared, when two people ordered food and drinks along their journey. Brienne, paying more attention than Podrick, noticed the way your hands shook after the two discussed how Sansa would not come with them under her now dead mother’s wishes. Brienne watched as you worked for hours and you tried your hardest to not give any reason for her to realize just who you were, but it was in vain as on your way home, she followed you with Podrick. She cornered you and told you all she knew – Sansa was with Littlefinger, Arya had run away from the Hound. It took much convincing but in the end you agreed to go with Brienne and Podrick. Knowing that your mother wanted her to find you and your sisters was the main reason but it took you awhile to open up to either of them about anything.
And the ones who loved her the most.
Podrick sat next to you in front of a small fire, having been riding for days on the back of his horse was not one bit comfortable but you held back complaints, knowing there was nothing that could be done due to the nature of why the three of you were traveling. Every time the three of you stopped for rest, Podrick made sure that you were comfortable and warm before worrying about anything to do with himself. Brienne never said anything, but her watchful eyes noticed that every time you all stopped, You and Podrick would sit closer and closer around the fire or at taverns. She even did not say anything when Podrick took his cloak off during a very chilly night and laid it on top of you. She felt bad watching Podrick scoot closer to the fire as he was cold himself, but there was nothing to be done. At the next town, Brienne traded for more blankets for all of you, but it still became a habit for Podrick to give you his cloak, even when you were not cold. Not before long, you realized that you had a smile on your face anytime you and Podrick were having a conversation. You were getting closer with Brienne, but it was nothing on the way that Podrick brought out the Y/N that was long thought to be gone. You could have cried when word reached the three of you that Jon was going to go against Ramsay Bolton at Winterfell. You knew there was so much more that you had missed being away from home. There was the bittersweet reunion between Jon, Sansa and yourself. When the group of you watched as Ramsay brought out Rickon, you rode your horse as fast as you could towards your baby brother, but it was all in vain as the arrow that Ramsay fired at him, pierced him in the heart just feet in front of you. Jon, having been close behind you, had to hold you up on your horse as you went into shock. After Sansa killed Ramsay and the Starks took back Winterfell for the first time in years, you forced Jon to get Rickon’s body into the Stark family crypt, spending much of your time there because you were unable to come to terms with the true loss of your baby brother. You went down with Podrick a few times, telling him stories of when you babysat Rickon and Bran all those years ago. You had an inkling that Bran was somewhere because with the news that Theon was lying about the boys deaths, it meant that there was a chance Bran survived in the north. You ignored Theon at every turn, unable to face the boy you once loved because even though he did not kill your brothers, he killed two young boys. Podrick was there to pick up the pieces as you came to terms with Theon having broke every ounce of trust you had at every turn after you had left Winterfell.
The ones who’d been gone for so very long, she couldn’t remember their names.
Your thoughts came true when you laid eyes on Bran and Arya after so long away from them. While you had so much love for your siblings, it was not lost on any of you just how awkward it was at first to be with them again. With Bran, it took the longest due to his behavior and the new attitude of the three-eyed raven. Nothing like the young, funny boy he used to be, he was now cryptic and blunt at every turn. You focused instead on training with Arya and Podrick as word of Daenerys’ arrival to come sooner than later with the threats of the white walkers that were once only believed to be only a story of legend. Over time, it became rare to see you without Podrick at your side, a friendship having grown into something more but neither of you acted on it, causing some much-needed humor in people’s days. It also became rare to see the two of you going into the crypts, but instead you two would walk around Winterfell at any time of day.
They spun her around on the damp old stones, spun away from her sorrow and pain.
Podrick realized sooner than you what the feelings he had for you meant but he refused to bring it up to anyone for fear of you not feeling the same and hating you for it. He instead focused all his attention on making you smile.
“Come on Y/N, you can walk faster than that.” Podrick smiles, waiting for you to catch up.
“Yes, but I would rather save my energy so I can walk further. Speed doesn’t matter to me.”
“But I would like to get back to my bed before tomorrow afternoon.”
“How rude Pod! I am not THAT slow.” You laugh and once you reach his side, he loops your arm in between his and the two of you walk in silence towards the gates. You knew of your own feelings for a bit, not as long as Podrick, but it was truly that day where you thought of Love for the first time.
You stood next to him as Daenerys and her armies made their way into Winterfell. Podrick joked after how your hitting him on the arm after watching the appearance of Daenerys’s dragon must have left his largest bruise yet. You hit him again in the same spot due to his teasing and his only response then was to smile and laugh with you.
Now, the night where the white walkers could show up at any point, you were truly sure of your love for Podrick. A part of you wanted to come clean and express your feelings, but most of you did not want to ruin your friendship right before the possibility of your deaths. You vowed to keep it to yourself; more content on keeping it hidden and dying with Podrick as your friend than you are to tell him and die with him hating you.
And She never wanted to leave.
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave
Podrick ends the song and meets your eyes, a light blush making his way onto his cheeks having just sung in front of people. You smile at him, pulling yourself away from the memories his song choice brought to you. You had almost forgotten about waking up that cold night with Podrick’s cloak on you until the song reminded you.
An hour or so later, the group of you had scattered, finding people to talk to or things to do to keep their thoughts away from the upcoming battle. Podrick and you had settled in the dining hall at a shared table with two people from Daenerys’ side. Your head began feeling heavy as the weight of the day started to hit. Podrick noticed how truly tired you were when you lost the fight of staying away and your head landed on his shoulder. He smiled to himself and readjusted so that he could pick you up and carry you to bed. Once he got you settled, he turned around and started to walk away but something stopped him. He bent down and laid a soft kiss on the hair just above your forehead.
“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers. Even in your state, you heard him and your eyes flutter open. You catch sight of him opening your bedroom door to exit and you softly say his name.
“Podrick, will you lie down with me?” His hand stops pushing open the door and he turns his head towards you. You give him a sleepy smile and he returns it. He makes his way back towards your bed, but stops right before his knees tough the blanket. "Podrick, please lie with me. I do not want to be alone right now."
Hearing your admission, he removes his armor and weapons before he climbs into bed next to you.
"I am so scared." You admit, turning your head into his so he can hear your voice. You speak in nothing louder than a whisper.
"I am as well Y/N." He says, staring into your eyes.
"Do you think we will survive this?" You ask him, your eyes leaving his and looking down at his lips. You don't miss the blush that begins to creep onto his skin as he looks at your lips as well.
"I really hope so... I would hate if I died without getting a change to love you." He says, the words coming out quick, like he did not expect to admit it. He turns his head away but you saying his name makes him look towards you again.
"I feel the same way." You smile and soon a large grin shows on his face. "We are so stupid... waiting until our deaths to admit our love."
"I think we are smart for admitting it know. Now we truly have something to live for." He moves his head towards yours, his lips meeting yours. Pulling away, the two of you start to drift off to sleep, the anxieties the two of you had been feeling, shoved away now that you truly had eachother.
Your bedroom door slams open, waking both of. Brienne stands tall in the doorway.
"We are all needed... it's time." The bubble that you had made with Podrick popping as you began to arm yourselves for battle.
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