heartbreak is a national anthem

hey jude

[gagged0ngore]

No, I dont have daddy issues

[waynesxx]

Ruin The Friendship

"gif not mine" carl grimes x f!reader angst imagine summary: “My advice is always ruin the frienship” — a The Walking Dead one-shot. Because sometimes, even at the end of the world, love is the only thing that survives.

The smell of smoke and gasoline is the first thing you feel. The second is the sound — distant, almost a growl — of an old engine tearing through the silence. You don’t move. You’re too tired to feel fear, and maybe fear doesn’t have room inside you anymore.

The world ended weeks ago, maybe months. Time lost its meaning when the watch on your wrist stopped ticking — right after your mother stopped breathing.

You remember her still holding your hand. “Run, sweetheart.” And you ran.

Since then, the world became a desert of echoes. Sleeping turned into a threat, eating into a miracle. Until one day, luck — or fate — put you in his path.

The motorcycle screeches to a halt. A tall man with tired eyes gets off, gun raised — but there’s no hostility in his gaze. “Still alive?” he asks, voice rough, laced with suspicion and surprise.

You only nod, lips cracked, throat too dry to answer.

He studies you for a moment, then lowers the weapon. “I’m Daryl.” He glances around. “My group’s camped by a quarry nearby. You can come with me.”

You don’t ask if you can trust him. At this point, trust is the same as breathing — you do it, even if you don’t know why anymore.

The place is a mix of hope and exhaustion. Makeshift tents, rusty pans, voices that sound too human for this new world.

You can feel all the eyes on you — a new survivor, another story no one wants to hear but everyone wants to understand.

And then you see him.

A thin boy with a crooked sheriff’s hat, holding a can of beans like it’s treasure. He stares at you from a distance, curious but not hostile.

Later, when you sit by the fire, he approaches.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m Carl.”

You hesitate. You can’t remember the last time someone greeted you without a weapon in hand.

“Hi.” Your voice comes out low, rusty.

He smiles, shy, and holds out a spoon. “Want some? It’s terrible, but it’s food.”

You take it. And in that simple act — sharing something in a world that only knows how to take — it all begins.

Days pass slowly there. You help Carol with laundry, learn to use a rifle with Shane, and sometimes you keep watch with Carl atop the rocks, staring at the ruined city in the distance.

Carl doesn’t talk much, but when he does, there’s a living curiosity in every word. He asks questions that don’t seem to belong to the apocalypse:

“What was your favorite food before?” “Did you like going to school?” “Do you think the world will ever be normal again?”

You answer what you can, but sometimes you just watch the light in his eyes — that rare kind of brightness in a world made of gray.

One night, you’re alone together on the hill. Cold wind drifts through the trees, and the fire crackles below.

Carl fiddles with his hat, embarrassed. “I’m… I’m glad Daryl found you.”

You look at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Because you make things feel less bad.”

Your heart beats strangely. And for the first time since the end of the world, you feel something that isn’t fear — it’s warmth.

When the group leaves the quarry, you go with them. The road is long, every stop a battle. But between fear and fatigue, there are moments that stay with you:

Carl falling asleep on your shoulder; You sharing the last dried apple; The two of you whispering bad jokes to forget the smell of the dead.

Sometimes Daryl watches from afar, as if he knows something’s growing there — a bond even the apocalypse couldn’t kill.

And at night, when the group sleeps, Carl whispers:

“When all this is over… I wanna show you somewhere beautiful. A place just for us.”

You smile, not really believing in “after.” But he does — and somehow, that’s enough.

The gate creaks shut behind you. After years sleeping under open skies, the sound of iron locking almost feels… safe. Alexandria. The place that promised a new beginning — a bubble of normal in the middle of chaos.

But peace, for those who’ve seen the end of the world, always feels suspicious. You walk between clean streets, painted fences, people who still smile like they haven’t seen hell. Carl walks beside you, eyes sharp, hand never far from his gun.

“Feels wrong, doesn’t it?” he says.

“What does?”

“Having houses. Beds. People planting flowers.”

You look around, sighing. “Yeah. Feels like a dream that’ll wake up any second.”

He smirks. “Then… let’s dream while we can.”

*********

Days stretch into an uneasy calm. You help at the community school; Carl works in the garden, sometimes takes patrols with his dad. People start laughing again — and you almost forget the sound of the dead.

But not him. Carl is everywhere.

He shows up on your porch with two cups of lukewarm coffee. He calls you for guard duty “just in case” — but you end up talking for hours, about before, after, and everything that might’ve been if the world hadn’t ended.

Sometimes he takes off the hat and scratches his head, nervous, and you realize how much he’s grown. The boy from the quarry became a man — and you feel, with a tightness in your chest, that time has moved faster than you did.

It’s in the watchtower that everything changes.

You take turns keeping watch. One night, the sky is clear, stars mocking you — shining too bright for such a broken world.

Carl rests his rifle on the railing. “Remember when I said I wanted to show you somewhere beautiful?” he asks.

You chuckle softly. “Of course. You never did.”

“I’ll show you now.” He points to the horizon, to the distant glow of the community lights. “This. A place where you can still believe.”

You watch him — his face lit by moonlight, his calm, steady gaze. So much like his father’s, and yet… gentler. More yours.

Silence lingers. Your heart beats hard, pushing you forward.

Carl feels it too.

For a moment, you lean in. Your noses almost touch. The world holds its breath.

But then — footsteps. A guard comes to change shifts.

You both pull away, awkward, the kiss trapped in the air — along with everything you never dared to say.

A few months later, you notice something different. Carl always carries a worn notebook, writing late at night, sometimes tearing out pages and tucking them into his pockets.

One day, while cleaning weapons together, you tease him:

“Turning into a writer now?”

He laughs without looking up. “Maybe. Some things… you can only say on paper.”

You feel the weight of the words, but don’t press.

What you don’t know is that inside that notebook are pages with your name. Letters never sent. Words hidden between lines and silences:

“If the world were different, I’d kiss her without thinking.” “She still looks at me like I’m the same boy from the quarry. But I’m not. And she’s… she’s the reason.” “Maybe one day I’ll tell her. If I’m brave enough.”

But the apocalypse is a thief of time — and courage always comes too late.

People start to notice. When you’re with him, others watch. Rick, quiet, with a half-smile of someone who understands; Michonne, protective, folding her arms, pretending not to see.

“He talks about you a lot,” she says one day, casually.

You blush. “Really?”

“Enough for me to know you’re important.”

Important. The word echoes in your head, heavier than a gunshot.

The calm ends with the first Savior attack. The sound of bullets replaces birdsong. The sky turns gray again.

You and Carl fight side by side, as always. But there’s something different in his eyes — determination, urgency.

After one skirmish, when the group regroups, he walks toward you, covered in blood and dust, chest heaving.

“Promise me something,” he says.

“What?”

“That if something happens to me… you keep going. You live. For both of us.”

You cup his face with both hands, firm. “Don’t talk like that.”

He smiles, broken. “Just promise.”

You promise — not knowing it will be the last time you’ll see him whole.

Days later, Carl disappears on missions with Siddiq, and you’re sent to Hilltop. You talk rarely over the radio. He always ends transmissions the same way: “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You laugh. “You should be the one hearing that.”

He never answers — just that short silence before cutting the line, as if saving what he couldn’t say aloud.

Then, one night, the radio hisses with desperate voices. Explosions. Screams. Alexandria is under siege.

You call his name again and again, but only static answers. Fear returns — that ancient fear from the quarry, of losing everything. But this time, it has a name.

Carl.

The radio falls silent.

Hilltop freezes. You pace the infirmary, trying to ignore the sounds of war — gunfire, blasts, cries. Every noise could be him.

Jesus tries to calm you. “Rick will bring them back,” he says, but his eyes betray doubt.

And when the gates finally open — when Rick and Michonne walk in — you understand without words.

Carl isn’t there.

Rick’s eyes are red, his hands shaking. You already know, but still ask:

“Where is he?”

Rick swallows hard. “He… he was bitten.”

The world stops. No sound. No light. No ground. You fall to your knees. Tears don’t come — your body can’t understand what it just heard.

Michonne kneels in front of you. “He wrote letters. For everyone.” She holds out an envelope. “This one’s yours.”

His handwriting. Your name. The paper crumpled, stained — almost damp with tears that might’ve been his.

You don’t open it. Not yet.

The group grieves in silence, but yours is a scream the apocalypse swallows whole.

Carl Grimes. Your best friend. Your almost-love. Your what if.

That night, you finally open the letter. Hands trembling. Candle flickering.

Hey, quarry girl. If you’re reading this, then… I guess I didn’t get to say everything. I need you to know that I loved you. From the first day. When Daryl brought you to camp and you looked at me with those scared eyes — I knew I had to protect you. I knew I needed you. We survived so much that sometimes I thought we were immortal. But no one is. I never wanted to ruin what we had, but now I see… what I felt couldn’t stay hidden forever. I dreamed of a future where we’d have our own house. You’d laugh at my stupid hat and say I finally looked like a man. If that future doesn’t come for me, I want it to come for you. Live. Love. Laugh. Promise me that. — Carl.

The candle flickers. Tears finally fall.

You press the letter to your chest, as if paper could still pulse — as if his heart still beat there.

“I loved you too, Carl,” you whisper, voice breaking. “Since the very first day.”

The days crawl by, slow and colorless. Rick barely speaks. Michonne drifts like a ghost. You move on autopilot.

Enid tries to comfort you, but there’s an emptiness inside you no one can fill. Sometimes, in the still of night, you hear his laugh echo through the halls — and for a heartbeat, you believe he’ll walk in, dirty and smiling, saying it was all just another scare.

But the apocalypse never gives back what it takes.

Pain becomes routine. You read and reread the letter until the ink starts to fade.

And one night, standing before his grave, you whisper:

“I should’ve kissed you anyway.”

The wind stirs, the flame flickers. Maybe coincidence. Or maybe him — still close, somehow.

Carl Grimes. The boy from the quarry. The man who taught you how to live — and how to love.

[waynesxx]

Among Thorns and Bullets

Sumary: She was born among thorns, the daughter of Gotham’s most feared villain, and grew up surrounded by crime. He was Robin, the boy who believed she could be more than her heritage. Jason Todd became her best friend, her hope, and her silent love — until the Joker tore everything away from her on a bloody night. Years later, as she tries to move on, a familiar figure returns from the shadows. Between masks, memories, and scars, she learns that love can bloom even in the midst of war.

****

english is not my first language

Sorry, I hate dialogue in quotation marks.

*giff is not mine*

The smell of flowers had always been contradictory to her.

While for many it meant delicacy and peace, for the daughter of Pamela Isley, it meant danger. Growing up among vines, poisonous leaves, and her mother’s whispers had taught her early that in Gotham nothing was simple — not even a rose.

She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t surrounded by crime. The secret meetings, the wicked plans, the villains coming and going from the house as if it were an open hideout… that was her childhood. Poison Ivy loved her, yes, but loved her in the only way she knew how: molding her to be her successor, to never be weak in a city built of shadows.

— You are my rarest flower. — Ivy would say, stroking her daughter’s hair as deadly petals opened around them. — And the world doesn’t deserve your kindness.

But deep down, the girl never believed that was all she was. She would see Gotham’s streets through the window, the children running — even amidst chaos — and wish she could be part of that “normal” world.

It was on one of those nights, when she ventured alone through the alleys, that her destiny changed.

A shadow in green and red dropped from the rooftops, scaring off the thugs surrounding her.

— Seriously? You decided to walk around here alone? — the boy’s voice had an ironic edge, but his eyes carried concern.

She had never seen anyone like him. A black mask over his eyes, movements sharp and precise.

Robin.

The second Robin.

Jason Todd.

At that moment, she didn’t know his name. Only that this boy, unlike everyone else she had met, wasn’t afraid of her. Or of the surname she carried.

— I don’t need you to save me. — she retorted, trying to sound firm.

— Oh, of course. — he chuckled, adjusting his staff. — That’s why you almost got mugged in Crime Alley.

Her heart pounded hard. It wasn’t fear. It was something new, dangerous, but strangely comforting.

That was the beginning of everything.

Jason kept showing up, again and again, as if he had personally decided not to let her get lost on her mother’s path.

He showed her that there were other options.

Other families.

Other lives.

And little by little, the girl born in darkness began to believe that maybe she deserved the light.

---

The invitation wasn’t immediate. Bruce Wayne — Batman himself — didn’t trust her at first. How could he? Daughter of Poison Ivy, raised in crime. To him, she was more of a potential risk than an ally.

But Jason insisted.

He insisted so much, with that stubbornness only he had, that he finally convinced the Bat to give her a chance.

And that was how she entered Wayne Manor for the first time.

The place felt like another world: vast, silent, full of stories in every corner. There, she met the people who would become her second family.

Dick Grayson, the first Robin, who welcomed her with the warmest smile she had ever seen.

Barbara Gordon, sharp-minded and patient like an older sister.

Tim Drake, the third Robin, curious and observant, always trying to figure her out.

Stephanie Brown, fun and chatty, who immediately dragged her into endless conversations.

Duke Thomas, kind and witty, able to brighten even the darkest days.

And even Damian Wayne, who at first glared at her with suspicion and acidic remarks, but eventually began to respect her — after all, she endured his bad temper better than most.

In training, she stood out not by strength, but by her ability with plants. She had inherited from her mother a rare gift: she could manipulate them on a small scale. Unlike Ivy, who used it to control, she wanted to learn to use it to protect.

— You’re quick. — Dick once told her after a heavy training session. — But you think too much before acting.

— And you talk too much while fighting. — she shot back, making Jason laugh loudly in the background.

Jason was always there.

Always.

He was the one who corrected her grip on the staff, who helped her fall without hurting herself, who stayed up late to make sure she got home safe after patrol.

And when she failed — because failure was inevitable — he was the one who stayed by her side, patient, until she got it right again.

— You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. — he told her one night, as they watched Gotham’s lights from a rooftop. — You only need to decide who you want to be.

Those words stuck with her.

More than any training, more than any lesson.

And it was during that time that she realized something that scared her more than villains, more than her mother’s judgment, more than Gotham’s shadows:

She was falling in love with Robin.

But in Gotham, love never came without fear.

---

Time passed, and with it, their bond only grew stronger.

Jason wasn’t just the boy who had saved her one random night — he had become her safe harbor.

He knew her fears, her traumas, the ghosts she carried because of her mother’s blood. He even knew the little details she hid from others: the habit of biting her thumb when nervous, the way she looked up at the sky whenever she needed to organize her thoughts.

In return, she knew Jason like no one else.

She knew he hid pain behind sarcastic jokes, that his explosive temper was just a shield for a heart that suffered too much. She knew he carried the world’s anger, but also had the capacity to love with devastating intensity.

And she loved him.

Silently.

On patrol, her heart raced every time he threw himself at criminals without hesitation.

In training, her hands trembled when he held her waist to adjust her stance.

On quiet nights, when they laughed together on the Manor’s roof, she imagined leaning in just a little closer, just a few inches, and kissing him.

But fear always won.

Fear of losing what they had. Fear that he didn’t feel the same. Fear that, if she confessed, everything would fall apart.

And so days turned into months.

Months into years.

She grew used to hiding her feelings in details: in lingering looks, in guarded smiles, in small worries disguised as friendship.

Yet deep down, every time Jason went on patrol, a knot formed in her stomach.

And every time he came back with another cut or bruise, it was as if the world reminded her how fragile their happiness was.

It was a silent torture.

A battle she fought alone, believing Jason could never share those feelings.

Little did she know that the Boy Wonder was living the same torment.

---

That night felt strange from the start.

Jason was restless. She could tell by the way he gripped and released his staff, by the unusual silence between them during patrol.

— What is it? — she asked, adjusting her mask.

— Nothing. — he replied too quickly.

— Jason…

— I just… have a bad feeling.

She didn’t press. She knew when he was like that, it was useless to insist.

But the heaviness in the air followed her into the alley where everything happened.

It was fast. Too fast.

A false message, a carefully planned trap. That unmistakable laugh echoed against the brick walls: the Joker.

Jason shoved her back the second he realized.

— Stay here! — he shouted.

She didn’t stay.

She ran after him, her heart pounding, praying silently it would just be another fight, another night that would end with them laughing on the Manor’s roof.

But Gotham doesn’t work like that.

When she turned the corner, time seemed to stop.

Jason lay bloodied, his body broken from the brutal blows.

And in front of him, the Joker, smile painted in red, raising a crowbar like a trophy.

— No… — she whispered, her throat burning. — NO!

She ran, but it was too late.

The sound echoed — metal against flesh — and Jason fell for good.

— Ah, the little Robin’s sweetheart showed up. — the clown sneered, turning to her. — What an adorable scene, isn’t it?

She dropped to her knees beside Jason, her hands trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding, denying reality.

— Stay with me… please… don’t leave me, Jason.

He tried to speak, but air escaped him. His green eyes found hers one last time, full of pain and something she only now understood — love.

And then, silence.

Her scream tore through the night.

A scream that carried not only loss but the shattering of everything she believed in.

The Joker laughed.

And as if her pain wasn’t enough, he turned on her too. Punches, kicks, blows. Each one stole a piece of her, each one pushing her closer to the dark.

Until consciousness slipped away.

She didn’t die that night. Not physically.

But something inside her did.

The daughter of Poison Ivy, the Batfamily apprentice, the girl who dared to love — all of it crumbled the moment Jason Todd stopped breathing in her arms.

---

When she opened her eyes, weeks had passed.

The white ceiling, the constant beeping of machines, and the antiseptic smell revealed the truth: hospital.

She tried to move, but pain seared through her body, reminding her of every blow she had taken.

— Hey… easy. — a gentle voice pulled her back.

It was Dick Grayson, sitting at her bedside.

His eyes were tired, his smile sad, but genuine.

— You’re back. — he said with relief. — Finally.

She didn’t respond right away. Her mind was foggy, heavy.

Until memory cut through her chest like a blade.

Jason.

Blood.

The Joker’s laugh.

— No… — her voice cracked. — It can’t be…

Tears streamed uncontrollably. She turned her face away, as if she could escape reality, but Dick held her hand.

— I know. — he whispered, eyes brimming. — I miss him too.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

She recovered physically, but the real wound wasn’t in her body. It was in her soul.

The hospital’s sterile halls became both refuge and prison.

When she was discharged, she could have gone back to the Manor. But she didn’t.

Gotham reminded her of Jason in every shadow, every rooftop, every siren.

So she chose another path.

If she couldn’t save Jason, she would try to save others.

She studied, dedicated herself, and years later worked at Gotham Memorial Hospital, caring for patients who would never know Poison Ivy’s daughter or the vigilante who once fought alongside Robin.

There, she was just herself.

A nurse who worked sleepless nights, always with flowers in her pocket, using her gifts discreetly to heal.

Still, she never stopped going to one place every week.

Jason Todd’s grave.

She left fresh flowers, sometimes letters she would never show anyone.

Letters where she said everything she never confessed in life: how he was her best friend, her love, her salvation.

But before that cold headstone, words were never enough.

And yet, she kept trying.

---

Gotham never rests.

Not even when she tried to live a simple life.

News traveled fast through hospital corridors, between emergencies.

Patients whispered, cops commented, even coworkers murmured during breaks:

— You hear about that new guy… Red Hood?

— They say he’s taking out big criminals, like Black Mask.

— Taking out… or killing.

She pretended not to care, but every word echoed inside her.

It wasn’t hard to feel the city had shifted. Violence had a new tone, more brutal, more personal.

One night, walking home, she saw it.

Not him.

But the aftermath.

Whole gangs neutralized, traffickers terrified, swearing that “Red Hood” was worse than Batman.

There was rage there. Pain.

Something familiar.

She pushed the thought away.

She didn’t want to connect dots that would only make her bleed again.

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, the truth surfaced.

Bruce found out.

The World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t deny it: Jason Todd was alive.

Shock rippled through the Batfamily, but they made one silent decision — not to tell her.

Not yet.

Not until they understood what Jason had become.

But there was one thing they couldn’t control: Jason.

He sought her out without meaning to.

From distant rooftops, from shadowed alleys, he watched the woman who had been his best friend, his love, his anchor.

He wanted to approach, but fear consumed him.

Fear of destroying her again.

Fear that she would hate him.

Fear of dragging her into the darkness he now lived in.

So he hid behind the red mask.

And she, unknowingly, felt more and more haunted by a ghost that never left her.

---

Wayne Manor’s walls had never felt so heavy.

Jason was back, in the flesh, but he wasn’t the same boy they once knew.

And despite arguments and reconciliations, a silence hung over them: her.

Poison Ivy’s daughter.

The girl Jason had loved in silence, and lost in the cruelest way.

The girl who now lived without knowing he breathed again.

— You can’t avoid this forever. — Dick said, arms crossed. — She’ll find out.

— And when she does, she’ll hate me. — Jason snapped, bitterness in his voice.

— You don’t know that. — Tim interjected. — Maybe… maybe she just wants you back.

Jason gave a humorless laugh.

— After everything I’ve done? After killing, after becoming exactly what they all fear? No, Drake. She deserves better.

Damian, who had been quietly watching, scoffed.

— Tch. You talk as if you had a choice. If you really care about her, stop being a coward and face the truth.

Jason glared, but said nothing.

Because deep down, he knew Damian was right.

Still, every time he thought of seeing her, his heart raced.

He remembered the way she looked at him in training, the nights they shared secrets on rooftops, the warmth of her hands desperately trying to stop his bleeding that last night.

He didn’t know if he could endure her reaction.

Didn’t know if he had the strength to see her break again — this time because of him.

So he chose silence.

Watched from afar, hidden in shadows, every time she left the hospital, every time she laid flowers at the grave with his name.

It was torture.

But to Jason, it was better than risking what little of her he still had.

Even so, the Batfamily knew: sooner or later, he wouldn’t be able to avoid it.

---

The invitation came in an elegant envelope with the Wayne Enterprises seal.

She nearly ignored it. She had never liked crowds, let alone lavish balls.

But the detail that made her hesitate was the gift that came with it: a simple box, wrapped in silk.

Inside, a red dress.

No sender.

No note.

Just the soft fabric, shining as if made for her.

For a moment, she considered not going. But deep down, she wanted to see the friends she called family — Dick, Barbara, Tim, Stephanie, Duke… even Damian. They had supported her every step since Jason’s loss. And somehow, she felt she needed to face that night.

At the hospital, a coworker offered to accompany her.

She accepted. Not as a date, but as a shield against the loneliness she feared in so much splendor.

At the Manor, the night buzzed with voices, music, and clinking crystal.

Jason was there.

And for the first time since his return, he felt real panic.

— Relax. — Tim nudged his shoulder, suppressing a laugh. — She’s not going to bite you.

— That’s exactly the problem. — Jason growled, fixing his collar.

Then he saw her.

The main doors opened, and she appeared in the red dress.

Jason’s heart stopped.

It was exactly as he imagined: perfect, radiant, a vision that made him forget even the mask he usually hid behind.

But she wasn’t alone.

Her coworker walked beside her, laughing softly, offering his arm.

Jealousy burned inside Jason like fire.

He tried to hide it, but every time she smiled at that man, his stomach churned.

Dick, noticing, whispered in his ear:

— So… are you just going to stand there, or finally do something?

Jason didn’t reply. He just watched, torn between wanting to pull her away and fearing she’d run.

The night dragged on, slow and painful.

She danced, chatted, laughed.

Until, needing air, she slipped out onto the terrace.

And there, in the shadows, stood someone with his back turned.

A tall man, broad shoulders, heavy breath.

She froze.

She would recognize that presence in any crowd, in any life, in any version of herself.

— …Jason?

He turned.

And for the first time in years, green eyes met hers.

No masks.

No lies.

Her hand flew to her mouth, tears spilling before she could stop them.

Jason took a step forward, hesitant, as if afraid she’d vanish if he got too close.

— I… — his voice cracked. — I should have come sooner.

But he didn’t need to say more.

In her eyes, there was shock, pain, anger, love — all at once.

And in that moment, the world seemed to go silent, as if only the two of them existed.

---

The silence was so heavy even the distant orchestra faded away.

She stepped back, her heart pounding too hard.

— This isn’t possible… — she whispered, voice breaking. — I saw you die, Jason. I… I held you in my arms…

He moved closer, slowly, like one would approach a fragile butterfly.

— I did die. — he admitted, green eyes burning with pain. — The Joker took everything from me that night. But I came back. In a twisted, broken way… but I came back.

Tears streamed down her face.

— And you stayed hidden? All this time?

— I didn’t want to drag you into the hell I’d become. — his voice faltered, heavy with guilt. — I thought if you saw me like this, you would… hate me.

She let out a bitter laugh through her tears.

— Hate you? Jason, I spent years praying to have you back. Years dreaming of hearing your voice again. What I felt for you didn’t die that night. I died with you.

Jason shut his eyes, her words hitting him like a punch.

He reached out, hesitantly, until his fingers brushed hers.

— I loved you. — he confessed in a broken whisper. — From the very beginning, I loved you. I just never had the courage to say it.

She gasped, the world spinning beneath her feet.

And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

— I love you too, Jason. I always have.

The barriers fell.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as if afraid to ever let go again. The kiss came loaded with years of pain, silence, and suffocated desire. It wasn’t gentle. It was urgent, desperate, as if they wanted to make up for all the lost time.

When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, breathless.

— Promise me you won’t leave me again.

Jason cupped her face in his hands, his eyes full of tears.

— I’m not going anywhere. Never again.

On that terrace, in Gotham’s cold night, two broken hearts finally found their way back to each other.

And for the first time since the world had collapsed, she believed she could bloom again.

---

The following weeks felt like living between two worlds.

By day, she worked at the hospital, saving lives with steady hands and a patient heart. Jason waited for her outside, often hidden under the hood, but always ready to take her home on his bike.

By night, Gotham’s chaos called him back.

The Red Hood was still needed — and too dangerous to ignore. But now, he wasn’t alone.

— You know I won’t just stand by. — she said, arms crossed as he wiped blood from his knuckles. — If you go to war, I go too.

— You don’t understand… — Jason sighed, tossing the towel aside. — This world consumes me. Changes me. I don’t want it to do the same to you.

— Jason… — she stepped closer, placing her hand over his chest, feeling his racing heart. — This world already took you from me once. I won’t let it take you again.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to her touch.

— You’ll be my ruin. — he muttered, with a crooked smile.

— Then we’ll be each other’s ruin. — she replied, before kissing him.

Despite the danger, there were moments of peace.

Simple dinners in the Wayne Manor kitchen, funny arguments with Dick and Tim, even Damian’s suspicious glares that slowly softened.

And deep down, Bruce watched everything in silence, approving without words.

But the city never rested.

One night, when sirens wailed through the streets, Jason stood up and placed the helmet on the table.

She faced him, steady, already dressed to join him.

He smiled beneath the mask.

— Then let’s go.

And they left together — not as hero and victim, nor as fugitive and villain’s daughter.

But as two surviving souls, who had learned to fight side by side — and to love despite the war.

In that moment, Gotham didn’t seem so dark.

Because between love and war, they had chosen both.

[waynesxx]

The Song of My Heart

Sumary: a young Brazilian actress who makes history by becoming the youngest-ever Emmy winner. Her life of success and fame in cinema intersects with the world of football at the 2022 World Cup, where, through her friend Vini Jr., she meets Jude Bellingham, a rising star of the English national team. The connection between the two is immediate, and an all-night conversation on a hotel rooftop begins a discreet romance.

The Santiago Bernabéu stadium in Madrid is more than a football field. It's a modern coliseum, a stage of dreams, and for me, (S/N), the sacred temple of my childhood. My father, a football fanatic, gave me a Real Madrid jersey even before he gave me a doll. I grew up watching the games, screaming for goals, and dreaming of one day seeing my favorite team up close. But destiny, or perhaps the universe, had other plans for me. I became an actress. The youngest in history to win an Emmy for my performance in The Walking Dead, and the youngest to have an international career. The world of cinema and television was my world, and football, a distant passion.

Then came the 2022 World Cup. My friend, Vini Jr., invited me to the games and to an inter-confederation party after the final. I, in turn, didn't hesitate. The party was in a hotel in Doha. The place was a chaos of celebrities, athletes, and journalists. And my heart was in a state of panic. I was overwhelmed. And that's when I saw him.

Jude Bellingham. The rising star of the England national team. He was beautiful. He was tall, with a smile that lit up his face, and with eyes that made me feel as if I were the only person in the world. He was on the hotel rooftop, looking out at the landscape. I walked over, and we talked until dawn. Our conversation was about everything. About football, about cinema, about life, about our future. Our chemistry was undeniable. We decided we would calmly figure out where this would lead.

Months later, in the European summer, my phone rang. It was Jude. He told me he had been signed by Real Madrid. My heart stopped. My passion, my dream, my team... it all became real. I went to his debut friendly in the United States, in Birmingham, with his parents. My heart was pounding. And when the La Liga season arrived, for his first game at the Bernabéu, I was there.

The stadium's atmosphere was electric. The fans were screaming, the music was pulsating, and my heart was in a state of panic. Jude was on the field, and I saw him. He was beautiful, in his white jersey, his number... number 5, a legendary number. The game was tense. The score was nil-nil. I was at my limit. The game was in stoppage time, and time was running out. I was about to give up. Then the sound came. The sound of a pass, the sound of a kick, the sound of a goal. Jude had scored a goal in stoppage time.

I screamed. I screamed like a madwoman. I felt ecstatic. I felt at home. I felt at peace. I looked at Jude, and he was there, running towards the stands. He was running for me. He climbed the stairs, and he kissed me. The kiss was the sound of the song I had always wanted to hear. Jude's song. Our love was announced to the world. My love was announced to the world.

The world exploded. The news of our kiss at the Bernabéu became a hurricane. The headlines, social media, the newspapers... they all talked about us. "The Couple of the Moment." "The Unlikely Romance." "The King and the Star." Me, the actress, and him, the football player. Our love was a fairy tale, and the world was ready to watch.

The reality, however, was more complicated. Our world was a world of cameras, of spotlights, of pressure. Our routine was a struggle. I was filming a new project, and he was training and playing. Our time together was scarce. But we did what we could. We made video calls, we sent text messages, we saw each other when we could.

Our love was simple. We did simple things. We cooked together, we watched movies, we went out for dinner. I taught him Portuguese, and he taught me British English. He taught me how to kick a ball, and I taught him how to act. We were a team. We were a family. We were a fairy tale.

One night, I was at an interview for a fashion magazine. The journalist asked me about our romance. "Are you... are you in love? Are you... are you happy?"

"I... I am. I... I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. Jude... he is my safe harbor. He... he makes me feel... safe. He... he makes me feel... loved. He is my peace. He is my home. And I... I am his."

The interview went viral. His fans, my fans, they all fell in love with us. Our love was real. Our love was an inspiration. Our love was a song. And the world was ready to listen.

Jude's love was unconditional support. He was my biggest fan. He was my biggest critic. He was my biggest cheerleader. He supported me in every project, in every film shoot. He helped me memorize my lines, he gave me advice, and he made me laugh. He was my safe harbor.

I, in turn, was his biggest fan. I went to all his games. I wore his jersey. I screamed his name. I felt like a child. I felt at home. I felt happy. My love for him was my shield.

One night, I was invited to an awards ceremony. The Golden Globes. My new movie, a book adaptation, was in high demand. I was in a state of panic. I was scared. But Jude was there. He was my date. He was handsome, in a black tuxedo, and with a smile that made me feel safe.

We walked the red carpet. The photographers shouted our names. The fans applauded him. I felt like I was in a fairy tale. I felt at peace. I felt loved.

I went to the ceremony, and I sat at my table. My category, "Best Actress," was the last one. I was in a state of panic. I was scared. My heart was pounding. The presenter announced my category. I felt like I was in a bubble. I felt like I was in limbo.

"And the winner is... (S/N), for her performance in 'The Burden of Memory'!"

I got up. I felt in shock. I felt ecstatic. I felt at peace. I kissed Jude. I went on stage, and I took the award. My speech was a flood of emotions. I thanked God, my family, my friends, and Jude.

"I... I have to thank a very special person. A person who taught me that love is not just a word. It's an action. It's unconditional support. Jude Bellingham... you are my inspiration. You are my strength. You... you are my home. And I... I love you."

My speech went viral. The world fell in love with us. Our love was real. Our love was an inspiration. Our love was a song. And the world was ready to listen.

The year 2024 was the year of our love. The year of our glory. Jude was at his peak. Real Madrid had won the Champions League, and he was the top scorer. He was the MVP. He was the king. And my heart was celebrating.

The football world was ready for the Ballon d'Or, the award for the best football player in the world. I, in turn, was in a state of panic. The press, the fans, they all talked about Jude. He was the favorite. He was the legend. And I... I was his star.

We went to the awards ceremony, and the place was a chaos. The photographers, the fans, the journalists... they all talked about Jude. He was handsome, in a black tuxedo, and with a smile that made me feel safe. We walked the red carpet. The photographers shouted our names. The fans applauded him. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We sat at our table. The ceremony began. My heart was in a state of panic. My mind was in a state of panic. Time dragged on. I felt like I was in a limbo. The category, "Best Player in the World," was the last one. The presenter announced the category. I felt like I was in a bubble.

"And the winner is... Jude Bellingham!"

I screamed. I screamed like a madwoman. I felt ecstatic. I felt at home. I felt at peace. I kissed Jude. He went on stage, and he took the award. His speech was a flood of emotions. He thanked his family, his friends, and me.

"I... I have to thank a very special person. A person who taught me that love is not just a word. It's an action. It's unconditional support. (S/N)... you are my star. You are my inspiration. You... you are my strength. You... you are my home. And I... I love you."

The world fell in love with us. Our love was real. Our love was an inspiration. Our love was a song. And the world was ready to listen.

Our story became a legend. The story of the Brazilian actress who fell in love with a football player. The story of the girl who loved a boy. The story of a fairy tale that became a reality. Our story... was our story. The story of a couple who built a legacy. The legacy of love. The legacy of hope. The legacy of peace. And our love... was our inheritance.

[waynesxx]

Among Thorns and Bullets

Sumary: She was born among thorns, the daughter of Gotham’s most feared villain, and grew up surrounded by crime. He was Robin, the boy who believed she could be more than her heritage. Jason Todd became her best friend, her hope, and her silent love — until the Joker tore everything away from her on a bloody night. Years later, as she tries to move on, a familiar figure returns from the shadows. Between masks, memories, and scars, she learns that love can bloom even in the midst of war.

****

english is not my first language

Sorry, I hate dialogue in quotation marks.

*giff is not mine*

The smell of flowers had always been contradictory to her.

While for many it meant delicacy and peace, for the daughter of Pamela Isley, it meant danger. Growing up among vines, poisonous leaves, and her mother’s whispers had taught her early that in Gotham nothing was simple — not even a rose.

She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t surrounded by crime. The secret meetings, the wicked plans, the villains coming and going from the house as if it were an open hideout… that was her childhood. Poison Ivy loved her, yes, but loved her in the only way she knew how: molding her to be her successor, to never be weak in a city built of shadows.

— You are my rarest flower. — Ivy would say, stroking her daughter’s hair as deadly petals opened around them. — And the world doesn’t deserve your kindness.

But deep down, the girl never believed that was all she was. She would see Gotham’s streets through the window, the children running — even amidst chaos — and wish she could be part of that “normal” world.

It was on one of those nights, when she ventured alone through the alleys, that her destiny changed.

A shadow in green and red dropped from the rooftops, scaring off the thugs surrounding her.

— Seriously? You decided to walk around here alone? — the boy’s voice had an ironic edge, but his eyes carried concern.

She had never seen anyone like him. A black mask over his eyes, movements sharp and precise.

Robin.

The second Robin.

Jason Todd.

At that moment, she didn’t know his name. Only that this boy, unlike everyone else she had met, wasn’t afraid of her. Or of the surname she carried.

— I don’t need you to save me. — she retorted, trying to sound firm.

— Oh, of course. — he chuckled, adjusting his staff. — That’s why you almost got mugged in Crime Alley.

Her heart pounded hard. It wasn’t fear. It was something new, dangerous, but strangely comforting.

That was the beginning of everything.

Jason kept showing up, again and again, as if he had personally decided not to let her get lost on her mother’s path.

He showed her that there were other options.

Other families.

Other lives.

And little by little, the girl born in darkness began to believe that maybe she deserved the light.

---

The invitation wasn’t immediate. Bruce Wayne — Batman himself — didn’t trust her at first. How could he? Daughter of Poison Ivy, raised in crime. To him, she was more of a potential risk than an ally.

But Jason insisted.

He insisted so much, with that stubbornness only he had, that he finally convinced the Bat to give her a chance.

And that was how she entered Wayne Manor for the first time.

The place felt like another world: vast, silent, full of stories in every corner. There, she met the people who would become her second family.

Dick Grayson, the first Robin, who welcomed her with the warmest smile she had ever seen.

Barbara Gordon, sharp-minded and patient like an older sister.

Tim Drake, the third Robin, curious and observant, always trying to figure her out.

Stephanie Brown, fun and chatty, who immediately dragged her into endless conversations.

Duke Thomas, kind and witty, able to brighten even the darkest days.

And even Damian Wayne, who at first glared at her with suspicion and acidic remarks, but eventually began to respect her — after all, she endured his bad temper better than most.

In training, she stood out not by strength, but by her ability with plants. She had inherited from her mother a rare gift: she could manipulate them on a small scale. Unlike Ivy, who used it to control, she wanted to learn to use it to protect.

— You’re quick. — Dick once told her after a heavy training session. — But you think too much before acting.

— And you talk too much while fighting. — she shot back, making Jason laugh loudly in the background.

Jason was always there.

Always.

He was the one who corrected her grip on the staff, who helped her fall without hurting herself, who stayed up late to make sure she got home safe after patrol.

And when she failed — because failure was inevitable — he was the one who stayed by her side, patient, until she got it right again.

— You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. — he told her one night, as they watched Gotham’s lights from a rooftop. — You only need to decide who you want to be.

Those words stuck with her.

More than any training, more than any lesson.

And it was during that time that she realized something that scared her more than villains, more than her mother’s judgment, more than Gotham’s shadows:

She was falling in love with Robin.

But in Gotham, love never came without fear.

---

Time passed, and with it, their bond only grew stronger.

Jason wasn’t just the boy who had saved her one random night — he had become her safe harbor.

He knew her fears, her traumas, the ghosts she carried because of her mother’s blood. He even knew the little details she hid from others: the habit of biting her thumb when nervous, the way she looked up at the sky whenever she needed to organize her thoughts.

In return, she knew Jason like no one else.

She knew he hid pain behind sarcastic jokes, that his explosive temper was just a shield for a heart that suffered too much. She knew he carried the world’s anger, but also had the capacity to love with devastating intensity.

And she loved him.

Silently.

On patrol, her heart raced every time he threw himself at criminals without hesitation.

In training, her hands trembled when he held her waist to adjust her stance.

On quiet nights, when they laughed together on the Manor’s roof, she imagined leaning in just a little closer, just a few inches, and kissing him.

But fear always won.

Fear of losing what they had. Fear that he didn’t feel the same. Fear that, if she confessed, everything would fall apart.

And so days turned into months.

Months into years.

She grew used to hiding her feelings in details: in lingering looks, in guarded smiles, in small worries disguised as friendship.

Yet deep down, every time Jason went on patrol, a knot formed in her stomach.

And every time he came back with another cut or bruise, it was as if the world reminded her how fragile their happiness was.

It was a silent torture.

A battle she fought alone, believing Jason could never share those feelings.

Little did she know that the Boy Wonder was living the same torment.

---

That night felt strange from the start.

Jason was restless. She could tell by the way he gripped and released his staff, by the unusual silence between them during patrol.

— What is it? — she asked, adjusting her mask.

— Nothing. — he replied too quickly.

— Jason…

— I just… have a bad feeling.

She didn’t press. She knew when he was like that, it was useless to insist.

But the heaviness in the air followed her into the alley where everything happened.

It was fast. Too fast.

A false message, a carefully planned trap. That unmistakable laugh echoed against the brick walls: the Joker.

Jason shoved her back the second he realized.

— Stay here! — he shouted.

She didn’t stay.

She ran after him, her heart pounding, praying silently it would just be another fight, another night that would end with them laughing on the Manor’s roof.

But Gotham doesn’t work like that.

When she turned the corner, time seemed to stop.

Jason lay bloodied, his body broken from the brutal blows.

And in front of him, the Joker, smile painted in red, raising a crowbar like a trophy.

— No… — she whispered, her throat burning. — NO!

She ran, but it was too late.

The sound echoed — metal against flesh — and Jason fell for good.

— Ah, the little Robin’s sweetheart showed up. — the clown sneered, turning to her. — What an adorable scene, isn’t it?

She dropped to her knees beside Jason, her hands trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding, denying reality.

— Stay with me… please… don’t leave me, Jason.

He tried to speak, but air escaped him. His green eyes found hers one last time, full of pain and something she only now understood — love.

And then, silence.

Her scream tore through the night.

A scream that carried not only loss but the shattering of everything she believed in.

The Joker laughed.

And as if her pain wasn’t enough, he turned on her too. Punches, kicks, blows. Each one stole a piece of her, each one pushing her closer to the dark.

Until consciousness slipped away.

She didn’t die that night. Not physically.

But something inside her did.

The daughter of Poison Ivy, the Batfamily apprentice, the girl who dared to love — all of it crumbled the moment Jason Todd stopped breathing in her arms.

---

When she opened her eyes, weeks had passed.

The white ceiling, the constant beeping of machines, and the antiseptic smell revealed the truth: hospital.

She tried to move, but pain seared through her body, reminding her of every blow she had taken.

— Hey… easy. — a gentle voice pulled her back.

It was Dick Grayson, sitting at her bedside.

His eyes were tired, his smile sad, but genuine.

— You’re back. — he said with relief. — Finally.

She didn’t respond right away. Her mind was foggy, heavy.

Until memory cut through her chest like a blade.

Jason.

Blood.

The Joker’s laugh.

— No… — her voice cracked. — It can’t be…

Tears streamed uncontrollably. She turned her face away, as if she could escape reality, but Dick held her hand.

— I know. — he whispered, eyes brimming. — I miss him too.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

She recovered physically, but the real wound wasn’t in her body. It was in her soul.

The hospital’s sterile halls became both refuge and prison.

When she was discharged, she could have gone back to the Manor. But she didn’t.

Gotham reminded her of Jason in every shadow, every rooftop, every siren.

So she chose another path.

If she couldn’t save Jason, she would try to save others.

She studied, dedicated herself, and years later worked at Gotham Memorial Hospital, caring for patients who would never know Poison Ivy’s daughter or the vigilante who once fought alongside Robin.

There, she was just herself.

A nurse who worked sleepless nights, always with flowers in her pocket, using her gifts discreetly to heal.

Still, she never stopped going to one place every week.

Jason Todd’s grave.

She left fresh flowers, sometimes letters she would never show anyone.

Letters where she said everything she never confessed in life: how he was her best friend, her love, her salvation.

But before that cold headstone, words were never enough.

And yet, she kept trying.

---

Gotham never rests.

Not even when she tried to live a simple life.

News traveled fast through hospital corridors, between emergencies.

Patients whispered, cops commented, even coworkers murmured during breaks:

— You hear about that new guy… Red Hood?

— They say he’s taking out big criminals, like Black Mask.

— Taking out… or killing.

She pretended not to care, but every word echoed inside her.

It wasn’t hard to feel the city had shifted. Violence had a new tone, more brutal, more personal.

One night, walking home, she saw it.

Not him.

But the aftermath.

Whole gangs neutralized, traffickers terrified, swearing that “Red Hood” was worse than Batman.

There was rage there. Pain.

Something familiar.

She pushed the thought away.

She didn’t want to connect dots that would only make her bleed again.

Meanwhile, in Wayne Manor, the truth surfaced.

Bruce found out.

The World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t deny it: Jason Todd was alive.

Shock rippled through the Batfamily, but they made one silent decision — not to tell her.

Not yet.

Not until they understood what Jason had become.

But there was one thing they couldn’t control: Jason.

He sought her out without meaning to.

From distant rooftops, from shadowed alleys, he watched the woman who had been his best friend, his love, his anchor.

He wanted to approach, but fear consumed him.

Fear of destroying her again.

Fear that she would hate him.

Fear of dragging her into the darkness he now lived in.

So he hid behind the red mask.

And she, unknowingly, felt more and more haunted by a ghost that never left her.

---

Wayne Manor’s walls had never felt so heavy.

Jason was back, in the flesh, but he wasn’t the same boy they once knew.

And despite arguments and reconciliations, a silence hung over them: her.

Poison Ivy’s daughter.

The girl Jason had loved in silence, and lost in the cruelest way.

The girl who now lived without knowing he breathed again.

— You can’t avoid this forever. — Dick said, arms crossed. — She’ll find out.

— And when she does, she’ll hate me. — Jason snapped, bitterness in his voice.

— You don’t know that. — Tim interjected. — Maybe… maybe she just wants you back.

Jason gave a humorless laugh.

— After everything I’ve done? After killing, after becoming exactly what they all fear? No, Drake. She deserves better.

Damian, who had been quietly watching, scoffed.

— Tch. You talk as if you had a choice. If you really care about her, stop being a coward and face the truth.

Jason glared, but said nothing.

Because deep down, he knew Damian was right.

Still, every time he thought of seeing her, his heart raced.

He remembered the way she looked at him in training, the nights they shared secrets on rooftops, the warmth of her hands desperately trying to stop his bleeding that last night.

He didn’t know if he could endure her reaction.

Didn’t know if he had the strength to see her break again — this time because of him.

So he chose silence.

Watched from afar, hidden in shadows, every time she left the hospital, every time she laid flowers at the grave with his name.

It was torture.

But to Jason, it was better than risking what little of her he still had.

Even so, the Batfamily knew: sooner or later, he wouldn’t be able to avoid it.

---

The invitation came in an elegant envelope with the Wayne Enterprises seal.

She nearly ignored it. She had never liked crowds, let alone lavish balls.

But the detail that made her hesitate was the gift that came with it: a simple box, wrapped in silk.

Inside, a red dress.

No sender.

No note.

Just the soft fabric, shining as if made for her.

For a moment, she considered not going. But deep down, she wanted to see the friends she called family — Dick, Barbara, Tim, Stephanie, Duke… even Damian. They had supported her every step since Jason’s loss. And somehow, she felt she needed to face that night.

At the hospital, a coworker offered to accompany her.

She accepted. Not as a date, but as a shield against the loneliness she feared in so much splendor.

At the Manor, the night buzzed with voices, music, and clinking crystal.

Jason was there.

And for the first time since his return, he felt real panic.

— Relax. — Tim nudged his shoulder, suppressing a laugh. — She’s not going to bite you.

— That’s exactly the problem. — Jason growled, fixing his collar.

Then he saw her.

The main doors opened, and she appeared in the red dress.

Jason’s heart stopped.

It was exactly as he imagined: perfect, radiant, a vision that made him forget even the mask he usually hid behind.

But she wasn’t alone.

Her coworker walked beside her, laughing softly, offering his arm.

Jealousy burned inside Jason like fire.

He tried to hide it, but every time she smiled at that man, his stomach churned.

Dick, noticing, whispered in his ear:

— So… are you just going to stand there, or finally do something?

Jason didn’t reply. He just watched, torn between wanting to pull her away and fearing she’d run.

The night dragged on, slow and painful.

She danced, chatted, laughed.

Until, needing air, she slipped out onto the terrace.

And there, in the shadows, stood someone with his back turned.

A tall man, broad shoulders, heavy breath.

She froze.

She would recognize that presence in any crowd, in any life, in any version of herself.

— …Jason?

He turned.

And for the first time in years, green eyes met hers.

No masks.

No lies.

Her hand flew to her mouth, tears spilling before she could stop them.

Jason took a step forward, hesitant, as if afraid she’d vanish if he got too close.

— I… — his voice cracked. — I should have come sooner.

But he didn’t need to say more.

In her eyes, there was shock, pain, anger, love — all at once.

And in that moment, the world seemed to go silent, as if only the two of them existed.

---

The silence was so heavy even the distant orchestra faded away.

She stepped back, her heart pounding too hard.

— This isn’t possible… — she whispered, voice breaking. — I saw you die, Jason. I… I held you in my arms…

He moved closer, slowly, like one would approach a fragile butterfly.

— I did die. — he admitted, green eyes burning with pain. — The Joker took everything from me that night. But I came back. In a twisted, broken way… but I came back.

Tears streamed down her face.

— And you stayed hidden? All this time?

— I didn’t want to drag you into the hell I’d become. — his voice faltered, heavy with guilt. — I thought if you saw me like this, you would… hate me.

She let out a bitter laugh through her tears.

— Hate you? Jason, I spent years praying to have you back. Years dreaming of hearing your voice again. What I felt for you didn’t die that night. I died with you.

Jason shut his eyes, her words hitting him like a punch.

He reached out, hesitantly, until his fingers brushed hers.

— I loved you. — he confessed in a broken whisper. — From the very beginning, I loved you. I just never had the courage to say it.

She gasped, the world spinning beneath her feet.

And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

— I love you too, Jason. I always have.

The barriers fell.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her as if afraid to ever let go again. The kiss came loaded with years of pain, silence, and suffocated desire. It wasn’t gentle. It was urgent, desperate, as if they wanted to make up for all the lost time.

When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, breathless.

— Promise me you won’t leave me again.

Jason cupped her face in his hands, his eyes full of tears.

— I’m not going anywhere. Never again.

On that terrace, in Gotham’s cold night, two broken hearts finally found their way back to each other.

And for the first time since the world had collapsed, she believed she could bloom again.

---

The following weeks felt like living between two worlds.

By day, she worked at the hospital, saving lives with steady hands and a patient heart. Jason waited for her outside, often hidden under the hood, but always ready to take her home on his bike.

By night, Gotham’s chaos called him back.

The Red Hood was still needed — and too dangerous to ignore. But now, he wasn’t alone.

— You know I won’t just stand by. — she said, arms crossed as he wiped blood from his knuckles. — If you go to war, I go too.

— You don’t understand… — Jason sighed, tossing the towel aside. — This world consumes me. Changes me. I don’t want it to do the same to you.

— Jason… — she stepped closer, placing her hand over his chest, feeling his racing heart. — This world already took you from me once. I won’t let it take you again.

He closed his eyes, surrendering to her touch.

— You’ll be my ruin. — he muttered, with a crooked smile.

— Then we’ll be each other’s ruin. — she replied, before kissing him.

Despite the danger, there were moments of peace.

Simple dinners in the Wayne Manor kitchen, funny arguments with Dick and Tim, even Damian’s suspicious glares that slowly softened.

And deep down, Bruce watched everything in silence, approving without words.

But the city never rested.

One night, when sirens wailed through the streets, Jason stood up and placed the helmet on the table.

She faced him, steady, already dressed to join him.

He smiled beneath the mask.

— Then let’s go.

And they left together — not as hero and victim, nor as fugitive and villain’s daughter.

But as two surviving souls, who had learned to fight side by side — and to love despite the war.

In that moment, Gotham didn’t seem so dark.

Because between love and war, they had chosen both.

[waynesxx]

The Lost Goddess

The winds of Asgard blew heavily that morning. The golden light of the realm shone over the vast hall, reflecting off the guards' armor and the majestic thrones where the fate of many was decided. But a shadow loomed over the kingdom—a shadow not born of magic, but of the weight of an ancient and cruel decision.

The Goddess of Flowers, sister to Thor and Loki, had been exiled from Asgard. The reason? A simple lie. A lie Odin, the All-Father, had crafted to protect his reign and his bloodline. Because of her unusual power—the control over flowers, forests, and wild nature—she was seen as a threat. She did not fit into Odin’s plans. Her existence was a reminder of what could have been, of an alternate future where Asgard’s strength was not the only thing that mattered. And for that, she was banished.

Her name? Seraphena.

But exile had not been as she imagined. The goddess felt a void grow within her, as if her very soul had been torn away, and the memory of who she was scattered into the wind like dry leaves.

In her first moments outside of Asgard, Sera felt the crushing weight of loneliness, drifting through unknown space, trying to remember who she was. She couldn’t even recall the faces of her brothers. Only a void. An immense darkness.

She spent millennia floating between planets—aimless, hopeless. Until the day destiny smiled upon her in a burst of golden light. Xandar, the capital of the Nova Corps, was peaceful that day. But the peace was broken by a ship that appeared on their radar. The ship, a glowing sphere that looked more like a flower in the vastness of space, was intercepted by the Nova Corps. They were prepared for anything… or so they thought.

When Sera was taken from the ship, she was no longer a goddess with dominion over nature. She was a fragile woman, without memory, without home, lost in a vast and foreign universe. She didn’t know how she had gotten there, nor who had placed her on that ship.

What the Nova Corps didn’t know was that, behind her moss-green eyes, she carried the power of nature itself—a power that could destroy the planet if it ever awoke. Sera was imprisoned in a cell, but what no one expected was that a peculiar and unpredictable man would soon cross her path: Peter Quill, also known as Star-Lord.

When Peter entered the prison, he wore that same sarcastic grin as always. “Well, well, princess. What brings a lost goddess into the hands of our glorious Nova Corps empire?”

Sera looked at him with suspicion, the words leaving her lips before she even realized what she was saying: “I’m not a princess. And I’m not lost. Just… memoryless.”

Peter laughed, trying to ease the tension. “That’s what all the princesses say.”

“I’m not a princess,” she repeated, more firmly. She felt something in him—something familiar. But what was it? Impossible to know. Her memory was blocked, but her heart… her heart beat faster in his presence. Prison was just the beginning. Over time, Sera was released and joined the Guardians of the Galaxy. At first, she was a stranger—an alien who knew nothing of the others’ customs or lives. But as the days passed, she began to feel at home among them. Rocket’s humor, Drax’s jokes, Groot’s strange kindness, and Gamora’s bravery—each of them, in their own way, made her feel like maybe she wasn’t so alone.

But over time, there was something more. Something growing between Sera and Peter, Star-Lord. The chemistry was undeniable, even if neither knew how to deal with it. Sera, with her fragmented memories, found herself drawn to him. And Peter... well, Peter was drawn to her. But what he didn’t know was that she carried the history of the gods in her blood.

The tension between them grew with every mission, with every exchanged glance. But it was during the battle against Ego, the Living Planet, that their relationship truly bloomed. The fight against Ego was intense. Sera fought with the strength of all surrounding nature, summoning flowers and roots that emerged from the depths of unexplored planets. But when Ego revealed his plans, everything became more complicated. He wanted to destroy the Guardians’ family, to hurt Peter—and he didn’t hesitate to attack Sera to get what he wanted.

It was then, in the heart of battle, that Ego made a fatal mistake. In trying to kill Sera, he awakened something inside her. Something long hidden: the true power of a nature goddess. She unleashed all her energy to confront him, creating a storm of raw force that obliterated Ego and everything around him.

Peter, at last, reached her, and among the wreckage, he looked into her eyes and whispered: “I love you, Sera. I always have.”

The goddess, tears in her eyes, finally had her memory restored. She knew who she was. She knew where she came from. And she knew her heart now belonged to Peter.

The days after the battle with Ego were hectic. Victory was bittersweet, marked by the loss of a deeply personal battle for Peter. He was still processing everything that had happened with his father, but beside him was the Goddess of Flowers, someone who seemed to understand the weight he carried.

Sera, with her calm presence, tried to offer him the support he didn’t even know he needed. She saw more in him than just “Star-Lord.” She saw the pain in his eyes and felt the same emptiness in her heart, as if both their souls had been touched by loss. But their pain wasn’t over yet.

It was then that an emergency transmission shattered the peace. An Asgardian ship was approaching Xandar. Something was happening in Asgard. Ysolde didn’t hesitate to run to the control room. Her heart pounded as if a warning had struck her. Asgard… it had always been far away, but the connection to her homeland had never truly broken. She still felt the energy of her home, and the bond with Thor and Loki had never fully disappeared.

“Come on, boys! Better not miss another god-rescue mission,” Peter shouted with his usual enthusiasm, though the humor was dulled by the concern he saw in Sera.

When the ship landed, what she didn’t expect was that, alongside Rocket, Groot, and the others, she would find Thor—but not in the way she had imagined. He was different. His hair was shorter, his face more mature. But still, he was the brother she hadn’t seen in so long.

That moment was... overwhelming. Sera had no words when she saw him. The great Thor, son of Odin, her long-lost brother, was there—standing in front of her.

“Sister...” he whispered, eyes shining with a mixture of pain and relief. There was no hiding how happy he was to see her—even though, in the background, there was something more... something dark.

“Thor... I don’t know how you... what happened? Where’s Loki?” Her voice trembled, but she needed to know. She could feel something was wrong. Loki—always the source of chaos and humor in Asgard—wasn't there.

Thor lowered his head, his voice hoarse. “Loki... he’s gone.”

The pain cut through her heart like a dagger. She had never truly known what had happened to Loki—but now... she knew. The cunning brother who always teased her, who tried to protect her in his own twisted way... was lost forever. She felt the weight of his absence, the grief of a deep loss.

But there was no time to sink into that grief. The universe was in danger. The Guardians’ journey—now with Thor—led them to Nidavellir, where the group sought a way to forge a weapon capable of defeating Thanos.

Sera didn’t know what to expect. She could smell death in the air, and somehow, she knew this enemy would affect them in a far more personal way. Thanos wasn’t just hunting Infinity Stones—he was hunting lives.

“I don’t like this,” Rocket muttered, while Sera watched the forge they were trying to reactivate. “But between you and me, anything that involves taking down that giant lunatic with a death wish? I’m in.”

Peter laughed at Rocket’s comment. “Me too. But we need to be careful. We’re heading to Knowhere next. Gamora’s in danger. And we know Thanos won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

The mood grew heavier. Thor remained silent. Sera, on the other hand, felt fear crawl into her bones. Something inside her told her this mission could be the last for many of them. But it wasn’t time to think about death—it was time to fight.

When they arrived in Knowhere, the battle began. Thanos was there. And with him came the weight of his selfish desire to destroy everything Gamora loved.

Seraphena couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, had she been raised with her brothers in Asgard. How different everyone’s life would have been if she hadn’t been banished. But now, lives were at stake, and she could no longer afford to think about herself.

The battle on Titan was fierce. Men and women from across the universe united to stop Thanos. But in the end, the Mad Titan kept his promise. Reality was altered with a single snap—and everything Ysolde knew vanished.

Suddenly, she stood alone, the weight of emptiness crushing her lungs. She was there—but everyone else... they were gone. Even Peter.

Her pain was unbearable. The world had shattered into fragments, and Sera didn’t know if anything could ever be found in that chaos. Rocket, Nebula, and she—the last survivors. But the void of losing those she loved still consumed her soul.

No more life. No more light. No more color... Nothing.

But then... a mission. One last attempt to undo the mistake. A journey through time.

Sera felt fragmented as they entered the time stream. It was as if the past and present were colliding inside her. She didn’t know what the future would hold—but she knew that, to save the ones she loved, she would have to make a sacrifice.

Vormir.

The Soul Stone had a price. And Sera knew she would be the one to pay it.

“Don’t do this,” Rocket said, his eyes desperate. “I... I can’t lose anyone else.”

But the goddess had already made her decision. “I’ve always been the guardian of nature. What I am now… is more than Odin’s daughter. I’m part of this universe. And if that means saving my brothers, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She looked at Rocket, her eyes glowing with sorrow. “Remember me.”

And with that... She sacrificed herself.

After Thanos’s defeat, the Guardians found themselves in a difficult place. The universe was safe—but the loss of Sera left a hole in their hearts. The pain was real—but there was also a sense that they had fulfilled their mission, even though her absence was a constant weight.

Peter Quill couldn’t look out into space without feeling the void. Sera was no longer at his side, and that felt more unbearable than any battle he had ever faced. The weight of her loss was crushing him. He tried to maintain his usual "Star-Lord" persona—playful, sarcastic—but whenever he looked at the stars, all he saw was darkness.

Rocket, on the other hand, dealt with the grief in his own way. He buried himself in work—fixing ships, making repairs—while shutting down emotionally. He knew his pain was only part of the whole, but he couldn’t stop wondering if he could’ve done more to stop Sera’s death.

Nebula also seemed impassive—but there was a coldness in her attitude, an emotional distance that didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe it was her way of coping.

“Hey, Peter. You gonna spend the rest of your life staring into the void?” Rocket asked, his voice sharp. “You know, she wouldn’t want you sitting around mourning her. She wanted you to keep living.”

Peter looked at Rocket, eyes red and tired. “You don’t get it, Rocket. She was... she was my reason. My everything. And I never even got to tell her.”

Rocket sighed and sat beside him, staring up at the stars. “I know, man. But the universe... it doesn’t wait for anyone. Sera knew that. She wanted you to keep going.”

Peter looked into the distance. He knew Rocket was right. She would’ve wanted him to move forward. But the pain of losing her... that was a burden he didn’t know how to carry.

As time passed, the rest of the Guardians began to regroup and find a new way to live. But Sera’s impact lingered—around every corner of the ship, in every conversation, in every glance. Her presence was still felt, especially in the silence. The wild nature she evoked, the flower fields that seemed to grow wherever she walked, the lightness in her soul... all of it remained, even if she was gone.

One silent night, Thor approached Peter as he stared at the stars. The God of Thunder was quiet—so the conversation that followed was more intimate than they usually shared.

“I never thought I’d lose her like that,” Thor began, with a sadness he rarely let show. “Sera... she was always my sister. Even though we were apart for so long, she was our connection to Asgard. When Odin exiled her, I didn’t know what to do. But now... I feel like part of me is gone too.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. He, too, felt like part of him had disappeared—a part he would never get back. But at the same time, he felt a sense of duty, a drive to keep fighting—for her.

He lifted his head and looked at Thor.

“She taught me a lot, Thor,” Peter said, voice hoarse. “She showed me what it means to love without holding back. To love without fear. She showed me that the universe is bigger than any of us, but we can still make a difference... even when we don’t understand everything.”

Thor looked at Peter with a sad smile. “I never thought a human would understand that so well. But you’re right. Sera was the reminder that stars can still shine, even in darkness.”

They both sat in silence for a while, staring at the stars. And in that moment, it was as if the entire universe was with them—witnessing the grief and hope that lived side by side in their hearts.

The day Peter found Seraphena’s letter, he was alone. The ship was silent, and he was revisiting the memories of everything they had lived through together.

He found the letter inside a small box, hidden in the corner of his room. It was sealed with a golden emblem he recognized instantly.

With trembling hands, he opened the letter. The scent of the flower she always wore in her hair—a soft aroma of jasmine and lavender

The scent of the flower she always wore in her hair—a soft aroma of jasmine and lavender—seemed to linger on the paper.

"Peter, my dear Peter," the letter began.

"I know you won't like reading this, but I can't leave without saying it. I love you. You were the light that appeared in my life when I needed it most, when everything around me felt dark and meaningless. No matter what happens, it will always be you. I found something in you that I didn’t even know I was looking for. Love, friendship, chance... all of it came together when you showed up. And I loved you. I always will."

"I don't know what the future holds, or if there's a way back. But I want you to know: if I have to leave, let it be with the peace of knowing I found my home in your arms. I have no regrets. Do what you must, Peter. Keep living. For me."

"With all my love, Sera."

Peter stood still, her words echoing in his mind. He felt the pain of loss intensify—but at the same time, there was something in those words that pushed him forward. The will to live, to honor her memory, and to fight for a better future.

He knew that, despite everything, Sera didn’t want him to get lost in grief. She wanted him to move on. And as hard as it was, he promised he would — for her.