#after all these years my best boy deserved to have all my effort poured into portraying him and his god complex

[mysticmunson]

rainy days (steddie x reader)

summary: when rain wakes you up earlier than usual

word count: 1.5k

authors note: this is for my best friend @lilacletter i love you so much and appreciate you beyond what i can say. i hope you have an amazing birthday and a fabulous week in general. you deserve all the love in the world, to many more. i hope you enjoy. :)

(not proofread)

The gentle patter of rain on pavement roused you from your sleep, the room being a shade of grey due to the storm outside. Peering at the sleeping figures on each of your sides, Eddie and Steve remained in deep slumber, both sets of lips hung open slightly with light snores.

Entangled in them, you stealthily slipped away, adjusting the blankets around them and walking downstairs. The quaint home was a new edition after a few years of dating, deciding more space was necessary amongst the chaos of each of your work schedules, along with your schooling.

Pine seeped from the dried candle on the countertops, mixing with coffee as you put some in the machine. Rubbing your eyes, you checked the time to see it was barely 8 am, something unnoticeable due to the lack of sun. The April showers transcended into May, greeting summer with the chilly water, a welcomed addition.

Hickory liquid began to fall into your pot, smoke surrounding it, as you reached for your blue mug. With a dash of cream and sugar, it soon blended as you poured it in, reaching the very top of the rim. 

Thunder rumbled, averting your attention to the small patio out back, the rain not too heavy against the roof. Wandering through the door, the smell of rain met your brew cohesively, looking out at the land before you. 

A few years ago, the plausibility of having a home to share with the men you loved seemed slim to none. The mundane became something to be cherished, never taking a moment of solitude for granted. You all had done a lot of growing, fleshing out to be functioning adults once leaving Hawkins. 

Steve had used his free time while working at Family Video to learn about the growing world of the internet, taking classes to get more experience after you persuaded him enough. It was one of the first times he really felt good about his abilities, seeing he was good with technology, and he secured a place at a global company. 

Eddie had graduated and had a slight crisis, not positive about what exactly his path was. After a few weeks, he decided to try tattooing, knowing his love of the art and his knack for drawing. He didn’t know he could love something as much as playing guitar until he started that, saving up to have his own store that was now successful in your new city.

They had been more than supportive of you continuing your education, bragging about how smart you were, even if you failed a test or cried out of frustration. Along with school, you worked at a hotel as a receptionist until you could work in your field. The boys insisted that you didn’t need to work, knowing they both had bills and extras covered, but you were stubborn in that sense.

There were ups and downs, Steve having to travel, Eddie working overtime, and you being overly stressed with your workload. However, the one thing that saved you all was the effort put in, there was never a moment you doubted the other didn’t want to be with you, making sure communication was clear due to past scenarios.

Part of you wanted to run out in the storm, to feel the cool water trickle down your arms and onto Steve’s shirt. The warmth in your palms kept you restrained, letting it run down your throat and burn slightly in your chest. The caffeine was slowly rising, now more alert of your surroundings as your feet rocked on the cement.

“What’re you doin’, trouble?” A teasing voice spoke softly, the door shutting and tattooed arms wrapping around your waist. A bare chest pulled flush against your back, soft pajama pants skimming past your bare legs.

“You’re up early.” You mused, securing your spare arm against his, feeling his soft brown hairs. His chin rested on your shoulder, stubbly cheek pressed against your soft one, raising your drink to his lips.

Stealing a bit, his eyes fluttered as you tilted it back, pulling away after a beat. Gulping it down, he winced at the slight burn, but thought of pouring himself a cup in a minute.

“Rain woke me up. Also didn’t feel you.” He murmured with closed eyes, pressing his nose against your face, kissing below your jaw. You tilted your head to nuzzle upon his curls, smelling the hints of his coconut shampoo, kissing his hairline.

Taking in another taste, the coffee was gone and the smoke had vanished. The cup clinked against the small side table beside a double-framed photo. One side had Steve, aged 5 at summer camp with missing teeth, and the other with Eddie, about 3 at a picnic. 

Holding the frame, you looked at it in adoration, the coloring slightly faded after being shoved between photos in an attic for years. Steve hated his, but it was one of your favorites. You wondered what they were like as kids, to be boys together despite not knowing one another, so unaware of everything else going on. 

“He looks so sweet.” You cooed, finger tracing over his outrageously 1970s haircut. Bangs rested above his eyebrows, hints of blonde between hazelnut locks, eyes squinting due to the sun. He was sitting on a log in front of a lake in a yellow shirt and jean shorts, hiking sandals on his feet. 

Your eyesight went to the one of Eddie, a mess of ringlets as he reached his chubby hand at a teddy bear. The hand extending it to him had painted nails of pale pink, his wide eyes looking at her with an even wider smile. You could practically hear the giggle erupting, imagining one like his own, but up a few octaves.

“I love this photo of you too.” You commented, touching where the blue gingham cloth sat beneath him years ago.

Blushing at the affection he still hadn’t grown into full comfort of, he scoffed, standing straighter, but pulling you closer.

“I just know I look cooler than Steve does.” He remarked, making you laugh at the foolishness, interjected by the opening door.

“What? When?” Steve questioned, walking out in a baggy shirt and boxers, scratching at his navel. He held his own cup of coffee, but he had his mostly black, only a spot of sugar.

His eyes fell to the frame in hand, groaning himself, grabbing it and putting it back in its place. The furrow in his brow was not solidified as it quickly vanished as he pecked both of your heads. Instead, he glanced at Eddie in a mysterious, silent agreement.

Suddenly wet lips peppered kisses on both sides of your face, exaggerated smooching noises to add to the dramatics. Squealing, you tried to shrink away, being stopped by their firm hold. 

“Thinks she can be all cute and embarrass us.” Eddie teased, lifting you up an inch off the ground, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, “Did say you were cute though.”

Ignoring Steve’s obvious blush, you playfully berated them instead, “I was just enjoying my rainy morning, go back to sleep.”

Now they both scoffed, Steve wiggling his fingertips against your belly to make you squirm in the other man’s grasp. A sharp gust of wind signaled you all inside, your feet now back on the tiled floor. 

“Want pancakes?” Steve asked, yawning behind the back of his hand, already reaching for the cupboard as the answer was always yes. Still, you and Eddie confirmed, leaning against the beige countertops.

The meek hiss of the batter hitting the pan was the only noise as you stood in comfort, Eddie’s arms having returned to your body moments after becoming stationary. He found comfort in touch, not responding well to playful resistance or as a form of punishment. Ignoring either of them wasn’t an option for any of you, no matter how big or small the issue was, it left both distraught.

Without much thought as Steve handed you both a plate, you smacked his bottom with a smirk, noticing how it jiggled. He blushed profusely, leaving both boys’ mouths agape, Eddie’s with a bit more amusement.

“You’re paying for that later.” He quipped, narrowing his eyes with a pointed finger, taking his own plate, and settling you all at the table.

Even if your whole day had consisted around this wooden table, the sticky syrup on the sides of your glass of water from accidental touches, you think you’d still be one of the luckiest girls on the planet. There was every ounce of care and love imaginable in their being, even when being playful.

In decades from now, pictures of the three of you would collect dust on a shelf as loved ones enjoyed their own versions of this day. You hoped the warmth you felt at this moment resonated from the ink, seeing the sparkle in their eyes as you did daily.

The bad days felt heavy, but each of those was worth days like these. Ones where the rain poured, the coffee brewed, and old photographs resided in your possession.

[alexbkrieger13]

Full artcle

I couldn't hold back my tears.

I don't know if it's age, but I seem to get more emotional in these situations.

It's difficult to put into words what I felt when I jumped onto the ice at the Verdun Auditorium on January 13 for our team's home opener.

The crowd was incredible, but it was more than just the ovation that put me in this state. This emotion represented years of effort. I dreamed of this moment for a long time and, finally, we were there.

When I saw great women like Caroline Ouellette, France St-Louis, Kim St-Pierre and Danielle Goyette arrive on the ice, I got chills. I was so happy that people recognized them and gave them the ovation they deserve. Without them, I would not have had the same career.

I'll be honest. At one point, I feared this moment would never come. It took longer than expected. Yes, there were these showcases , weekends where matches were organized in different cities, but it had nothing to do with a real professional league.

JI remember the first time I came to see the installations in Verdun with Danièle Sauvageau. There was almost nothing done. We had our work boots and construction helmets. She had a vision which she explained to me in detail. But I really had a hard time imagining it.

Marie-Philip Poulin greets the crowd after a Montreal team match.

PHOTO: LPHF MONTREAL/ARIANNE BERGERON

Our fans are the best. Friends who play on other teams told me that. It's not a crowd like any other in Montreal. She is noisy. She is invested. It's important to me to give back to people who are on the move. I am now more comfortable in this role. It’s the experience that comes in, you have to believe.

Before a live interview on Radio-Canada during an intermission at the Verdun Auditorium, a boy called me to offer me a treat. He threw one at me and I caught it in midair with my mouth. I started my interview anyway, with a smile on my face and my mouth full. It's part of my identity, my personality. Interaction with young people is really important to me.

The enthusiasm for our league is very real. I feel it. I hear it too. In Ottawa, I got booed when I went for a penalty shot. Being booed at home, in Canada, I admit that it's a first! It's weird, but it doesn't bother me. After all, that's what we wanted: a competitive league, rivalries and fans who identify with their city.

After a game in Minnesota, we went for a beer. Fathers came to see us to tell us how excited they were to see professional women's hockey. I saw how happy they were for us. It was in Minnesota, we are the team from Montreal and, despite everything, we attract attention.

This anecdote made me realize how our situation has nothing to do with what we experienced in the past. The enthusiasm is there and I have the impression that it is not just the effect of novelty. It will last and it's truly magical.

OHe talks to me a lot about this match last January 20, against Toronto . In fact, I'm mostly told about this goal scored with 17 seconds left in the third period and that we lost by one goal. Honestly, I don't know what happened. I had a blackout . It's rare that I take the puck and try to get to the goal on my own. I saw an opening. It was not premeditated. I was the first surprise when I scored.

Then, I was sent to shootouts four times by my coach. I obviously wasn't ready for that. It took me a little by surprise. It's not my favorite rule, but I'll get used to it.

I was burned out after that match. It's a lot of adaptation. LPHF games, Canada-US Rivalry Series, travel. We're not used to having such a big workload. You have to prepare well, but also make sure you recover well. That's the beauty of this league. It allows me to continue to surpass myself, to learn new things.

Marie-Philip Poulin

PHOTO: LPHF MONTREAL/ARIANNE BERGERON

I like hockey. I love that. And what I prefer is when the score is close. I like it when you have to give a little more, when you have to empty the tank. When it really counts, that's when I'm at my best. It turns me on.

My parents always told me: You practice like you play. It always stuck in my mind. I don't take anything for granted. I am aware of the pressure, but I have learned to manage it over the years. I don't forget that it's a team sport. I'm lucky to have been able to achieve some of these great moments, but I know I'm not alone in this.

I won Olympic medals, but I also lost world championships. I even wondered if I was capable of winning one. The 2018 Olympics were arguably the most difficult time of my career. I was practically hiding. I didn't want to see anyone. I thought I had disappointed the whole world by failing to bring home the gold medal.

I also learned not to read everything, to leave certain comments aside. Hockey is such a difficult sport. You can do the same thing every game, but the rebound won't go your way, it won't work or the opposing goalie will be on fire. I keep in mind that if you give your maximum in every match, it will happen.

People expect me to score goals, but that's not all I am. I take a lot of pride in blocking shots, in raising sticks in defensive withdrawal. I can still improve my defensive game. To win championships, you have to count, but the little details in the defensive zone will make the difference.

Marie-Philip Poulin and Laura Stacey celebrate a goal together on January 2, against Ottawa

PHOTO: LPHF MONTREAL/ARIANNE BERGERON

Even though she has been on the national team for a long time and is one of the best players in the world, Laura Stacey is less known to Quebec fans. Why her, they then asked themselves?

I knew full well that Danièle Sauvageau had not chosen her because she is my fiancée. Laura, she's an incredible player. A real power forward who has remarkable discipline.

She chose to move to another province. She is learning the language and doesn't hesitate to try to do bits of interviews in French. It's not easy, but she embraces her new reality.

I'm proud of her. I am proud to see her doing promotions for the media in French. I'm proud that people are discovering her personality, the player she is and that Montrealers are falling in love with her because she really deserves it.

OI often ask myself why I continue.

I don't have to play hockey. I do it because I love it. I feel the best on the ice.

I have the Olympic gold medals, the World Championship gold medals. Now I want to win an LPHF title in Montreal, at home.

Having a positive impact on the next generation has become my priority. To see the little girls in the stands, with stars in their eyes, it's worth more than championships, it's worth more than medals.

Eventually, I want to start a family. It would be in my next projects. We love kids, so this is really important to us.

For the moment, it's still hockey first and foremost.

Marie-Philip Poulin has fun during off-ice training

PHOTO: LPHF MONTREAL/ARIANNE BERGERONStart of widget. Skip widget?

Comments collected by Christine Roger

Header photo by LPHF Montréal/Arianne Bergeron

[sethcertified]

「 SLOW DANCE ! 」 . . . 📂

supernatural : sam winchester

wrd count : 2.1k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . slow dancing was always a fantasy for you. that fantasy comes true when sam decides to confess his feelings

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . sam winchester & male reader

Being a hopeless romantic was hard. Being a hopeless romantic in love with your best friend was harder.

You sat in the, surprisingly, comfortable hotel bed that you and the boys had rented for the night before you guys went back on the road; hunting the next monster that tainted the innocence left on the world. Your attention laid fixated on the book in hand; eyes scourging the words on the page, soaking in each and every detail. It was a romance book. In fact, a favorite of yours since high school.

The book was the perfect embodiment of what you desired in a relationship. The love interest was your ideal type of man; describing a certain man you knew to a T. He was tall, gentle, nerdy, and loving in the most comforting way. Was it really just a coincidence that he shared a striking semblance to Sam? For you, no.

You were in love with Sam Winchester. You had been for years. He was, in your mind, the perfect man. But he was also your best friend, and that was something you did not want to compromise. It hurt to hold in your feelings for someone you spent almost every hour with. Especially when you had been concealing those very same feelings for years.

As a way to cope with these feelings, you delved into the romance novel world even more than you already had been in the past; which was still quite a lot. It gave you an outlet for the feelings that had been building up for years. An outlet for you to imagine that maybe in a different world Sam would be yours. A world in which you could hold hands and kiss and cuddle with Sam.

Even your more abstract fantasies could come true in your head. Slow dancing with Sam was a particular favorite. A ditzy smile plastered against your face as the image took place in your mind. Your bodies just mere inches a part from each other; Sam’s breathing fanning your face, his hands engulfing yours in a firm but gentle hold, his eyes never straying away from yours as the two of you danced to the most beautiful of songs. It was a dream.

Sam knew of this dream, unbeknownst to you. He had “accidentally” read a page out of one of your journals that was dedicated to your fantasies that you left out. Journaling was a way for you to write out whatever scenario was plaguing your mind on the lines sheets of paper, and as much as you daydreamed about slow dancing with the love of your life; the more that dream came true on paper.

Sam bit his lip nervously as he tried his very hardest to remember the scene you had written about. He wanted to recreate it down to the most minuscule of details, and now that the hotel lobby was decorated, the minuscule details were all that was left. He wanted this to be perfect even it it meant the most obscure details were included. You deserved perfection.

Dean watched Sam with concerned eyes and crossed arms. Sam was an over thinker, and he was letting his head get the best of him once again. Dean knew this better than anyone. He was Sam’s older brother, after all.

“Don’t overthink it, man. He’s going to love it,” Dean patted Sam on the shoulder with a tight-lipped smile. Sam returned the smile with a wary look in his dark, chocolate eyes, “Yeah, yeah. You're right. It's just,” his eyes scanned the room with anxiety, “it has to be perfect for him.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief as chuckles poured out of his lips, “Look at this place! Any girl,” Dean coughed as he corrected himself, “In your case, guy, would fall for you in a second.” Sam nerves began to fall away at Dean’s word, “And how do you know? You have never put this much effort into a relationship; let alone asking someone out.”

“With my looks, I don’t have to,” Dean jested.

Sam pushed Dean with his shoulder as he left out a playful, “Shut up!” His mood had done a 360, and he was finally ready for you to come down from the room. Sam took a shaky inhale as he turned to Dean, gesturing to his clothes, “And I look good, right? I-I don’t usually dress like this.”

Sam had dawned a sleek, midnight black suit. It was virtually flawless with its lack of wrinkles and the way it fit snug around the giant of a man’s body. His hands dug into the pockets of the dress pants he wore paired with a smooth, leather belt. His black, button down shirt was tucked into his pants causing small cracks to form at the border between shirt and belt. The buttons along the shirt were white; the only aspect of his outfit that wasn’t black making them catch your eyes immediately. A blazer covered the shirt, making his broad shoulder even larger. It fit him perfectly as if it was almost tailored just for him. Bottom line, he looked good.

But what kind of brother tells you that? Dean shot Sam a snarky, “Couldn’t have laid a bit back on the all black?” before he elbowed Sam playfully, “I don’t know how many times I have to say it. You look good. Now, go get ‘em, tiger.”

Dean began to walk off with a light feeling in his chest. It hadn’t been long since Jessica’s death, and Sam probably still wasn’t completely over with his survivor’s guilt and all, but a beginning with someone new, someone good like you, it gave Dean peace of mind. Sam needed a good guy like you in his life, and Dean was happy to be apart of the effort into pushing you two together. His fist knocked on the door to the hotel room you guys had rented alerting you.

“Dean? You’re back!” You shot Dean a happy smile before your eyes scanned for his missing piece who practically stood by him like a shadow, “Where’s Sam?”

Dean set out his arm for you to grab, "C’mon."

You furrowed your brows at him as you apprehensively grabbed onto his arm, and he began leading you somewhere. Dean held a pleased smile as his eyes kept flickering to you.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“I hate it when you’re so vague,” you whined.

Confusion clouded your mind until your eyes caught sight of the beautifully decorated lobby. It was straight out of your dreams with the man to match. Sam stood in the midst of it all with a book in hand. As much as you would’ve loved to stare at Sam for the entirety of the night, the scene has caught your eye.

The lighting was dim, but highlighted all the right spots. It gave the once blinding lighting that streamed out of the open windows a cosy and romantic environment. The tacky carpet that looked like it had taken its design from a The Shining knockoff was gone, and the dirty, wooden tiled floor was polished; reflecting the light and the silhouettes of the objects on it like a mirror.

As you sunk in the scene, your eyes drifted back to Sam who was obviously getting more nervous by the second. He had pulled the scene together, and was the cherry on the top of your cake. Your face heated up as you sized him up. He looked his absolute best. The perfect combination between sexy and stunning.

Dean removed your hand from his hold as he began to back away. The tension filling the room between you two was beginning to get suffocating for him, and he knew you two needed to be alone. And besides, a beer and trashy, hotel food awaited him upstairs back in the hotel room. His eyes lingered on the scene as you moved towards where Sam stood, and pride swelled up with him. His little brother was in love.

Your feet stopped short as Sam waltzed towards you. You felt out of place in the grandioses of it all in your pajama pants and sweater you stole from Sam. Especially with how eloquently Sam was dressed up. The two of you looked like Batman and the Joker standing by each other.

Sam opened his mouth first since an awkward silence was taking place, “[Name].”

“Sam,” you responded, eager to hear what the man in front of you had to say.

His fingers tapped against the cover of the book he held nervously, “Uh, you’re probably wondering what’s going on…”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “It’s a bit extravagant.”

“Do you not like it?” Sam uttered, fear coursing through his veins.

Your eyes shot wide as you corrected him frantically, “No! No! No! I love it! It’s amazing.” You bit your lip as you checked out Sam, “And you look amazing too.”

“No, you’re the one who looks amazing here, really.”

“I’m dressed like a homeless guy, Sam. You look like a sexy, dark, dreamy professor who all the students bend over in front of. I mean, wow, look at yourself.”

Sam blushed a cute, faint red at your words. You thought he looked good. A shy smile spread across his face, “Thanks… I, uh, I wanted to look good for you.”

“Really?” Your expression brightened. Sam Winchester dressed up for you? Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Why?”

Sam took a deep breath as the unavoidable question came up, “I need to tell you something, but I, well, I got you this.” Sam extended his arms out and pressed the book into your hands. It was a hardcover edition of your favorite book, and a big, toothy grin covered your face, “Sam! I can’t even thank you enough for this. It’s like I’m dreaming.”

Sam worn a bashful expression as you moved to place the book on a nearby tabletop. His hand fiddled with the iPod in his pocket, trying to cue the music for you two to dance together with before you turned back towards him. Sweaty hands sleeked the device as he fumbled for the play button. Sam clicked the play button as he shoulders relaxed.

Your head tilted to the sound of notes of one of your favorite songs pouring out of the speakers Sam had set up. It was slow and soft but most of all; romantic. Sam had walked to where you stood and now shadowed over you. You felt his presence from behind you, and spun around to face him.

“Dance?” Sam asked, his hand extended towards you. You blinked as you placed your hand in his. Sam cupped your hand in his as he brought you to his chest, and led you to the middle of the lobby; where he had cleared out the most space for the two of you to dance in.

Your eyes were latched onto Sam’s face; admiring all of his features as the song faded away. His hair framed his face perfectly, calling attention to his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. His gentle, intelligent eyes. His perfectly shaped, cupid-bow lips. He was gorgeous.

And Sam was thinking the very same. He had lost sigh of anything else but you. Even in the homiest of clothes, you outshone everything and everyone. Sam couldn’t help the way his eyes kept falling to your lips; eager to entrap them with his own.

The silence between you two was comforting; especially with the gentle rhythm of the music guiding your bodies as if they were one. The eye contact between you two was electric and never ending.

“Sam,” you uttered breathlessly, still caught up in majesty of it all, “what did you need to say to me?” A part of you was holding your breath. Praying that it was those very three words you dreamed he would utter to you for years.

Sam’s eyes softened, “I-I love you.”

Tears erupted from your eyes at the words as a heartfelt smile spread across your face, “I love you too.”

Sam’s fears and anxieties were gone as the words he too had been longing for left your lips. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that followed. You loved him.

Sam caressed the side of your face as he leaned in to to kiss you. His eyes fluttered shut as you tip-toed and connected your lips together. Sam’s lips flushed against yours, soft and addicting. Your fingers had crawled up to his neck and dug into the back of his hair; pulling him closer than you thought was humanly possible. Your bodies contorted together beautifully. You two were no longer two vessels intertwining, but rather two lovers coming together in a beautiful display of passion and yearning.

✎ notes . . . very much inspired by the dean & rory scene from gilmore girls. first time writing for sam so I apologize if it was out of character :( （ 𖦹◞◟） 🌠˖ ♪

©️ sethcertified 2023

[odxrilove]

MY RIDE OR DIE – l.hc

pairing: brother’s best friend!haechan x f!reader

genre: brother’s best friend au, neighbors au, one-sided enemies to lovers, fluff

warnings: gentleman haechan, best brother jaemin, swearing, some flirting/teasing, mentions of renjun, one mention of mark and jeno, there’s probably more but idk

wc: 5.5k

a/n: for my favorite kylie replica and yy stalker @yyx2 *insert pleading eyes emoji* ily lots u evil little monster that u are <3

synopsis: hyuck is your brother’s best friend since your family moved next to his house when you were little kids. however, as much as your brother wants you to get along with his friends, you just can’t seem to stand his closest friend, the oh so confident and popular haechan. but when you get stood up on a date with no money left and rain pouring from the sky, haechan seems to be the only option left.

your brother has always been very protective of you. his big-brother act started in middle school when one of his classmates pushed you to the floor as you were watching jaemin score. he immediately let go of the soccer ball and ran towards you, his victory long forgotten. you still remember clearly how the mean boy fell to the ground after your brother landed his first ever punch. you had never been prouder of having him as your older brother, even if he looked ridiculous washing the dishes as punishment. 

over the years, jaemin grew even more protective, only trusting his friends around you and scaring all the boys away. most of the time, it would end with you scolding him for doing so, your brother trying to defend himself and your mother calling you for dinner to stop your guys’ bickering. when you look back at it, you know you can never stay mad at jaemin for too long. 

when he first introduced you to his friend group, you were nervous. obviously, meeting a bunch of tall teens is intimidating. but as they made lots of efforts to include you and be as nice as possible to you, you soon felt at ease around them. 

well, not around all of them.

hyuck, also known around school as haechan, has been your brother’s best friend since your family moved in next to his when you were little kids. the two of them immediately bonded and soon became the little troublemakers of the neighborhood, with haechan leading the way. 

it’s been more than ten years but the two are still as inseparable as before. only difference is that your brother has given you a permanent spot, turning the duo into a trio to accommodate you.

you wished that you and haechan could get along, you really did. but it’s just impossible, and you have given up on trying to explain as to why to your brother. how can you ever appreciate someone, that in your eyes, is someone so self-indulgent and self-centered that you could throw up from the thought only? 

you know that it upsets jaemin, knowing that his little sister, the most important person in his life, and his best friend, the second most important person, don’t get along. you feel bad, that’s for sure, but faking liking haechan is not going to work. 

you wonder how other people do it. do they see haechan in a different light? in a different way than you do? 

even if you have explained numerous times to jaemin why you aren’t fond of haechan at all, he just doesn’t seem to want to accept it. you understand him, you would be confused too if you were him. because haechan is actually loved by many, may it be classmates or neighbors. 

people seem to love haechan and it infuriates you. not because he doesn’t deserve it but because you wished you liked him too. 

maybe that’s why you’ve decided to make some effort, to try and get to know him better in an attempt to befriend him. you really wished life was simpler. 

hating haechan hasn’t always been easy. you yourself hated it. 

the hatred you hold for him started a few years back after middle school. high school arrived and haechan grew a lot. the latter changed his hair and even his style. you never knew why he did it but suddenly your brother followed, buying the same brand of shoes as his best friend. in less than a few weeks after the summer holidays, jaemin and his friend group were named the cool kids. lucky you for being the little sister of one of the members. 

it felt weird. the sudden change made you feel uneasy. that was probably why you never bothered to even think nicely of haechan, because in your eyes, he had changed your brother.

it wasn’t even long before you realized that even though jaemin had physically changed, he was still your brother, the one who teased you for hours on about a bad grade but comforted you when he went a little too far and made you tear up. you realize now how stupid it is to hate someone for something that wasn’t even their fault. 

but you were a stubborn child and thus, continued to hate haechan. 

highschool was difficult for you. you had a hard time making friends and when you did, many of them let you go when they realized you wouldn’t be helpful in getting closer to your brother. what’s more, people didn’t like you for not liking haechan. 

they never really tried to understand you or hear you out. you’ve lost many friends because of this. 

but surprisingly, haechan never let you go or walked away. he always stayed, even if your death stares made him uncomfortable. you know you should thank him for that but your pride never lets you do so. 

if you were really honest, you had hoped haechan had given up. because not only is the boy nice to you despite knowing of your hatred towards him, he also tries to make you like him. 

he was the one who held your hand minutes before you had to take a huge exam, he was the one who rushed to your side when you broke your leg at volleyball practice and your brother was in class but most importantly, he’s the one your brother trusts the most in taking care of you when he’s not around. 

upon entering university, you had asked your brother for a bit more space and freedom. you loved him to death but you knew that if he continued treating you like a child, you would never be able to become more independent. 

so, even if he didn’t like it, he agreed with a forced smile. 

jaemin had kept his promise and for the first time since you were born, you were able to accept someone’s date request. you shared a few classes with the boy in question and were pretty excited that he had asked you out. 

jaemin was pretty relieved to see you walking around the house with a smile and sparkly eyes, giggling in excitement.

when the day of your rendez-vous finally arrived, jaemin dropped you off at the diner your date had requested to meet before speeding off to an important class of his. the diner, which had a lovely atmosphere to it, was almost empty. it was in the middle of the day so most people were busy with school or work, unlike you who had a free afternoon that day. 

nervously, you glanced at your phone. you had agreed to meet at three pm and you were exactly two minutes early.

the first ten minutes, you kept looking at your phone in hopes to find a message of your date stating that he would be late but nothing. after another ten minutes, you decided to wait inside and order something to drink, looking around for a few seconds before sitting at one of the booths next to the window and close to the door. 

fifteen minutes passed and you finished your drink, the empty glass now sitting sadly on the table. it was a great drink by the way, worth the price. 

when the clock hits four pm, you had finally convinced yourself that your date wouldn’t show up. it hurt but it was the harsh truth. 

without losing another second, you called jaemin. 

and when he did finally pick up after the third ring, your shaky voice surprised him. 

“nana, can you please pick me up?” 

you almost never call jaemin by the nickname haechan gave him, but when you do, it’s either because you want something from him or there’s something wrong and he’s pretty sure that right now, it’s not the first option. 

you can hear him sigh through the phone and you imagine him rubbing his head and closing his eyes in frustration, already preparing yourself for what he has to say. 

“i am so sorry yn, but i can’t leave right now.” jaemin sounds so apologetic and guilt starts to creep up as you can make out a voice in the background that ushers jaemin to hurry up. before you can hang up, he speaks up again, “listen, don’t worry okay? i will call someone to pick you up, trust me.” 

you nod before realizing that he can’t see you, clearing your throat “thank you nana.” 

with a quick hum and goodbye, he hangs up and you slowly lower your phone, stuffing your hands in your pocket while you wait patiently in the cold. 

when you see a couple enter the dinner behind you, the two of them giggling and holding onto each other, you understand why you longed for love all these years. but as your eyes catches sight of the kids running out of the nearby school and your ears ring due to the bell, indicating that it’s four thirty pm, you also understand why your brother wasn’t fond of letting you go on a date with your classmate. 

you should have probably listened to his friend renjun’s warnings. renjun used to be part of the newspaper club in highschool and was known around multiple schools because of his connections. when your brother had invited his friends over not even two weeks ago, the younger man had mentioned your date’s habit of fooling girls when he was in highschool. you didn’t think it was still a habit of his. 

you groan in frustration, you should have really taken all his warnings seriously. 

deep down, you know that not even your brother could have changed your mind. you’re known to be stubborn and you wanted to prove him wrong, which inevitably didn’t work out now. 

looking at your feet tiredly, you let out a deep sigh, clearly done with today. you had preferred the guy being a total asshole during the date over being stood up, but it’s not like you can do anything against it. 

maybe you should have accepted jaemin’s proposal in setting you up with one of his friends. no, he would have tried to set you up with haechan. haechan this and haechan that –over the years, that’s the only thing you’ve heard jaemin say. like you said earlier, haechan is the person your brother trusts the most regarding you. 

which is exactly why haechan’s car is the one entering the restaurant’s parking lot and not any of jaemin’s other friends’.

you could recognize his car from miles away. it was his mom’s but when haechan graduated from highschool and finally got his driver’s license, she had proudly gifted him the keys to his now old but impeccable vehicule. if you said that haechan loved his car, that would be an understatement. 

it used to be an old crappy gray-colored thing but haechan restored it with all the money he got from his summer job during his first year of college. 

when he finally parked his precious baby in front of you, you wrapped your jacket tightly around your body. when you were about to open the door to the passenger’s seat, it inched open and haechan’s body was hunched over the console, arm stretched out to hold the door open for you. you hesitated upon seeing him this close and when he realized, he backed away, clearing his throat while one of his hands found the steering wheel.

‘step in.”

you opened the car door wider, holding onto it as to not slip due to the wet sidewalk. the warmth of haechan’s car finally hit you when you landed in your seat, the door falling close next to you. you sighed in delight, rubbing the palm of your hands against your bare thighs in an attempt to warm them up a bit. 

haechan looked at you, observing your wet hair and the way your lips trembled, body shivering. he turned around, stretching his arm out towards the backseat to retrieve a zip-up hoodie.  

he throws the clothing gently in your lap, pulling at one of its sleeves to cover the side of your left thigh more. he doesn’t spare you a glance and starts the car, the engine roaring. you look down at the hoodie in your lap, hands fiddling with the strings when you recognize the zip-up hoodie as the one you had gifted him for his 18th birthday on your mom’s request. 

it’s all worn out now. the colors have faded and you can barely make out the designs on the back and sleeves. hundred twenty bucks went into that hoodie but you faintly smile when you realize that haechan probably wore it a lot for it to be so beaten up. 

when you finally lift your head for the first time since haechan picked you up, your brows furrow at the sight of the dashboard. it used to be grey-colored, just like the outside of his car but now, it’s a black matte color, contradicting the beige leather seats in a fashionable way. you lean forward a bit, brushing your hand over the dashboard in front of you when haechan speaks up. 

“i changed it a few months ago. the grey just wasn't doing it anymore.” 

you nod, sitting back in your seat comfortably. the last time you had seen haechan’s car was when he dropped your brother off after a party last summer. the only thing you had told him when he helped you drag jaemin up to his room was that he should change the dashboard color, as it didn’t match with the new red exterior of his car. you could think he took your suggestion seriously. 

it was silent for most of the ride, the music from his spotify playlist making it slightly less awkward. you could see by the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel that he wanted to say something but he kept his mouth shut, tongue wetting his dry lips. 

the rain only started pouring more and more, aggressively hitting the windshield. 

when one of your favorite songs came on, you hesitated a few seconds before reaching your hand out to increase the volume. you didn’t expect haechan to have the same idea as you.  

his hand bumped against yours and he quickly backed away as if the feeling of your skin against his had burned him. it stung a bit, that’s for sure, but you found it even sadder that he had to act like that because of your past behavior and actions. 

he opened his mouth to apologize but you interrupted him, “it’s okay. i’m sorry, i should have asked first.” 

he looked at you when you spoke before concentrating on the road in front of him, clearing his throat and nodding slowly. 

it was dead silent once again. why did the diner have to be so goddam far away. 

haechan clears his throat again and you remember he does that often when he’s nervous. he wipes his hand on his thigh, rubbing his palm on the soft material of his sweatpants. with a deep breath, you divert your eyes and focus on the road. haechan is wearing grey sweatpants for god’s sake.

he takes a turn left and suddenly lowers the volume of the radio, “so, is everything okay?”. you look him in the eyes quickly, surprised at his question. he can sense your confusion and continues, “i heard that you got stood up.” 

well, that surely was very direct. 

you don’t know why but your eyes fill with tears. you got stood up, that’s nothing new but someone else saying it hurts you much more than when you did. maybe it’s the fact that you had to wait alone for more than an hour, maybe it’s the fact that you were really excited for today or maybe it’s the way haechan says it, but it finally dawns on you. 

you got stood up. on your first ever date too!

you let out a loud whimper at the realization, covering your mouth with your hand as you burst into tears. you cry in front of someone who isn’t your mom or jaemin and the thought makes you feel even more pathetic as you sob louder than the rain. 

haechan is terrified. it’s not the first time a girl cried in front of him, he has a younger sister and he was and still is quite popular in school. but it is the first time he’s ever seen you cry. the saddest he’s ever seen you was when you had to stop playing volleyball due to your leg injury but even then you didn’t cry. 

he has absolutely no idea what he needs to do. he can’t call jaemin because the latter is busy with school and he doesn’t know how to comfort you without making you uncomfortable. his mom had always told him to be nice to you and do his best to take care of you with jaemin but never in a million years had she told him what he should do when your best friend's little sister is crying her eyes out in your car. 

with wide eyes and hurried movements he drives to the nearest parking lot. he turns his body towards you once he’s parked and he swears under his breath. his mom –and jaemin– would never forgive him if he just let you like this. he closes his eyes for a maximum of two seconds and he can already hear his mom –accompanied by his dear best friend– yell obscenities at him for leaving you like this. 

no way he can drop you off at home with teary and puffy eyes and a red nose from crying.

without thinking, haechan unbuckles his seatbelt and throws the door open, getting a free shower the moment he steps outside of his car. he rushes to your side of the car, almost slipping due to the slippery ground, before grabbing the door handle and throwing it open too. 

haechan wastes no time in taking your wrists in his hands, pulling you up and out of your seat. everything goes too fast for you to acknowledge what’s happening but you whine when the rain hits your uncovered arms. 

before you can even protest, haechan wraps his arms around you, shielding you the best he can from the cold rain. 

he holds you close to his chest, one hand on the back of your head so that your face is hidden in his sweater, cheek squished against his collarbone. his other hand is gripped on your top by your side, his arm wrapped tightly around your body. 

he shushes your cries and pats your head softly, his tight embrace calming you down slowly. you close your eyes and let yourself be comforted by haechan. he sways your bodies from side to side a bit, still holding you close to his body. 

he doesn’t say anything but the comfort he provides you shocks you. he doesn’t let go of you, even when your clothes get soaked and your hair is stuck to your forehead. 

you don’t know how long you two stand there in the rain but in the end you barely even register the raindrops hitting your skin. 

it’s haechan’s shivering body that pulls you out of your reverie, teeth clattering. after letting out a deep sigh, he lets go of you but his hands find their way on your shoulders. he squeezes them softly before hugging you one more time. 

when he pulls away, he leans down to be at your height, faces inches away from each other. his hand, however, doesn’t leave your arm, thumb rubbing circles on your skin, “i’m sorry. i should have been more considerate.” 

you put your hands up quickly, trying to wipe away the leftover tears, “no, no, it’s okay! i overreacted.” you try to smile a bit but it doesn’t look sincere so you opt for looking at the ground again, hands together behind your back. 

haechan’s eyebrows furrow, “what do you mean you overreacted? you have every right to be upset. he gave you hope and then stood you up like some typical american movie’s douchebag.” 

you snort at his comment, hand covering your mouth when you see haechan’s face. 

placing his hands on his hips, he suddenly asks, once again leaning forward. “what? why are you laughing?”

you giggle once more, “it’s just–” you can’t help but let out a laugh, head tilting forward and hitting his chest softly. haechan’s eyes soften at this. “it’s just that you look really angry right now. that’s all.”

you can sense haechan freezing up beneath you and you quickly lift your head off his chest, taking a step back to get out of his personal space. you don’t see it but haechan’s cheeks turn a bright red, the tip of his ears joining too. he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, the silence suddenly very awkward. 

haechan doesn’t really know why he got so pissed but he convinces himself that it’s because you’re his best friend’s little sister. and nobody can mess with jaemin’s loved ones. 

“hey, uhm should we, you know–” haechan points at the car and you eagerly nod. in an instant, he holds the car door open and you look at him. has he always been this pretty?

you shake your head to get rid of the thought and jump in your seat. haechan closes behind you and dashes to the other side before getting inside. he hurriedly increases the heater, fiddling with all the little buttons and controls on the dashboard. before you know it, warmth spreads through the car and you let your head fall back on the headrest. 

you can hear haechan shuffling next to you but don’t bother opening your eyes until he calls you name, handing you a small white towel. you take hold of it and dry your hair the best you can with it, glancing at haechan from time to time. he’s aggressively drying his hair, rubbing his towel over his whole head and swiping it across his neck. when he’s done, he puts the towel around his neck and turns to you. 

“you okay?”

you nod, mindlessly drying your hair when he suddenly leans forward. you try to protest but haechan is faster, grabbing the zip-up hoodie that is laying on the ground and at your feet, his face almost touching your knee. he again turns to you with the clothing in hand and drapes it over your thighs, covering your lap with it like before. 

he mutters a small “here you go” and settles back in his seat, leaving you dumbfounded. when you think you have finally gotten over his recent action and the shock that came along, you can see haechan removing his soaked hoodie from the corner of your eye. 

your eyes widen and you look away, closing your eyes shut and facing the window. when you open them slowly, you can see his half-shirtless reflection in the window as he’s putting his t-shirt back on correctly. 

when jaemin said he and haechan often went to the gym, he certainly didn’t lie. 

one hand on the steering and the other one laid out on the console in between you two, haechan begins to drive, getting closer to your home with each second that passes. 

when you finally arrive at your neighborhood and you can see your house from afar, you clap your hands together in exhilaration. haechan lets out a chuckle at that before he slows down, driving towards your two houses. 

“hey,” he taps the steering wheel with his fingers, biting his lip, “why didn’t you just go on a date with any of us?” 

you keep looking in front of you as you see your two houses getting bigger and bigger the closer you get. you don’t have to think about his question a lot, he rapidly figured that the main reason why you had accepted to go on a date today was to annoy jaemin. 

“because then nana would just continue treating me like a child.” haechan smiles at the nickname, content to hear you using something he invented.”plus, i don’t think any of you would have accepted going on a date with me.” 

haechan looks offended and you stare at him as he gasps in disbelief, “you really think that?”. you don’t answer him and he continues, “you really think nobody would accept to go on a date with you?” 

you cross your arms at his tone, “well, nobody has ever shown interest in me. i would have known if someone did.” you side-eye him, huffing in annoyance.

now, haechan looks even more offended and he begins to stutter, stumbling over his words.”that is not true.” he manages to say, insisting on the ‘not’, clearly showing his disapproval. “i know someone– this guy, who, uhm who would have liked to– to go on a date with you.”

you tilt your head to ask him who but he lifts his hands in the air, “i can’t– i can’t say. that would be like breaking the, uhm, the bro code, you know?”

you huff, holding his zip-up hoodie in your hands, “if none of you can tell me, then how could i have gone on a date with him?”. you get out of the car when you realize you have been parked in front of his house for the past five minutes. 

he gets out just after you, contourning the car and walking you to your house. “well, i’m– i’m sure the guy has shown– or tried to show his, uhm, interest in you.” his answer sounds more like a question and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle. 

with the way haechan is behaving –and looking at you–, you hope he’s the guy in question. 

when you step onto the driveaway of your house, you turn to him, his hoodie now hanging on your shoulders. “who do you think would suit me huh? mark? maybe renjun or jeno?” you can see the way haechan tries to divert his eyes from you, cheeks flushing a light red when the post lamp flickers above you.

you look up at him, smiling softly, “perhaps, you?”

that quickly catches his attention, “what?”

you grab his t-shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, “hyuck,” you never used that nickname before and it greatly shocks haechan. “are you interested in me?”

haechan is speechless. he never thought those words would come out of your mouth, ever. he can barely register what is happening, uttering a small “what?”. it’s like he lost the majority of his vocabulary. 

you repeat the question and this time haechan manages to answer. “i think– i think you’re interesting, yeah?” 

you pat his chest, ”you know that is not what i meant, but it’s okay.” 

you don’t know how you still manage to keep your knees stable because you are literally trembling from the nerves. you’re fiddling with your fingers, looking at your shoes multiple times during the conversation. you glance at your house, making sure that he doesn’t see it. you’re around ten feet away from the door so you take a few steps back, haechan following you close behind. 

you’re suddenly shy when you notice how he is leaning over you, pretty eyes looking at you and waiting for you to speak up. 

you bring a thumb up and point at the door behind you, “i should get in.”

“yeah, you should.” his answer is simple and doesn’t add anything important to the conversation but his voice is so smooth that your mind goes blank. you probably look like a fool right now. 

when haechan notices your nervous stance, his confidence comes back and he smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. you’re about to head in, fumbling with the keys a bit before you manage to find the right one and unlock the door, but haechan has another idea. he slowly and gently grabs your wrist when you’re in the doorway and pulls you back on the doorstep. 

he’s leaning against the wall next to you, arm pressed against the door and he’s unnecessarily close to you, not that you mind. he grins down at you, “didn’t you forget something?” he arches an eyebrow and his tongue comes out to wet his lower lip. “is that how you treat someone who helped you?” 

you blush, eyes widening in embarrassment. you quickly apologize and start thanking him for the ride but he stops you again. “is that all? we both know you can do better.” 

you gulp as his eyes bore into yours. with a sharp inhale, you nod. you don’t want to let him win, he’s never going to let that down if you do. 

so with all the courage left in you, you stand on your tip-toes and kiss his cheek, taking him by surprise. your lips hover over his skin for a moment before you pull away, not without whispering a last “thank you” right next to his ear. 

he certainly didn’t expect that. 

in less than ten seconds, you’ve waved him goodbye and entered your house, shutting the door behind you with a loud thud. 

you’re bold, haechan thinks. and that definitely doesn’t help his crush on you to fade away. 

with one last look at the door, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and leaves your doorstep with a smile, walking back to the comfort of his own home. 

it’s around eight pm when jaemin finally comes back home, the older boy discarding his jacket and shoes in the entry hall, pushing his sneakers in between two pairs of yours carelessly. 

you sit up from the couch the moment you hear his footsteps, turning towards him and immediately forgetting about the show playing on the screen behind you. 

jaemin can sense you looking at him as he puts his bag down on the counter. he had been worried all day and hadn’t been able to concentrate on his class at all but when he turns to you, he’s confused. leaning back against the kitchen counter, he crosses his arms and inspects your face. you’re looking at him with puppy eyes and he doesn’t understand why, it annoys him a bit if he has to be honest. 

pointing his chin at you, he breaks the silence. “why are you looking at me like that? you want something?” 

he knows that your date didn’t show up, that was made clear by how distressed you were over call. but he doesn’t understand why you’re not surrounded by tissues and sitting on the couch with blankets and ice-cream.

when he sees you shuffling on the couch and hesitating, he grows even more curious and suspicious. gone is the annoyance as he makes his way over to you. this time, his voice is much more gentle, “did something happen with hyuck?”

you quickly shake your head and he lets out a relieved sigh. he wouldn’t want to beat up his best friend. 

“actually, i was wondering something.” your voice is small, as if you are anxious or embarrassed to tell him. he replies with a quick nod and you continue. “do you still want to set me up with one of your friends?” 

he grows quiet at your question before a large smile makes its way on his face. wow, did he hear that right? 

he hops over the couch, landing next to you and grinning from ear to ear. “why do you ask?”

you groan at his teasing, falling back onto the pile of cushions and blankets. “just answer the damn question jaemin.” 

he lifts his hands up and you smile when you realize that both he and haechan have the same gestures, probably due to all the years of being glued to each other like some blood suckers.

jaemin pushes his head into the comfortable cushion of the couch, his words coming out muffled. “one specific and very close –in every sense of the word– friend. yeah.”

your cheeks turn bright red and you hide your face in the blanket next to you, too embarrassed to look your brother in the eyes. “does the offer still stand?” you meekly ask him.

you swear you have never seen jaemin so happy in his life before. he claps his hands loudly, pumping his fist in the air and standing up from the couch with a jump. he points at you and beams, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “oh, this is my time to shine!”

you can only whine in protest when he launches towards the hallway, leaping the stairs and giggling all the way to his room. 

taglist: @0x1lovebot @itsyaapollochild @fairybinie @meraniki @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @lolalee24 @soobin-chois @kaimal @yjwfav @soobisms @peachy-yabbay @rrnhyuck @chims-kookies @vyii3 @jaeveil

do not copy or steal. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[simplyotometrash]

MC turns into MSheep!

Inspired by the lil anime announcement we got because I love MC still being represented by a lil sheepie~!

As usual, this is gender-neutral reader!MC

It was a total accident. You were just working on your potion project with Solomon. He was helping you with the math of it, mostly, since it was pretty complicated. You had no idea where things went wrong. There was a puff of pink smoke when you added the last ingredient and suddenly Solomon was a giant! Well, actually you were turned into a small pink sheep...

Lucifer:

He didn’t know what to say when Solomon brought you home.

You were a sheep. A tiny sheep. And very pink.

His beloved was a sheep.

Lucifer.exe has stopped responding.

Honestly, give this old man a few moments to take in the shock and let things settle.

Then he’s going to threaten Solomon because who else would have turned you into a fucking sheep?

A tiny voice sounded from the sheep. It sounded like you, only smaller.

“It was my fault. I think. Solomon didn’t even touch my potion ingredients.”

Well, that doesn’t change anything. Solomon had best change you back or else.

And those words shot pure ice through your veins. You knew when your Lucifer got pissed off, his threats were not to be taken lightly.

For the time being, however, you had to live as a sheep.

Lucifer didn’t hesitate to just carry you everywhere. What if you got lost? Or Beel tried to eat you? Or Belphie thought you were a pillow? Or Mammon tried to sell you?

There were too many variables and this old demon just wanted some peace of mind.

So you went literally everywhere with him. You two still talked as normal. You even slept in his room still. 

You promised yourself to help him relax once you were human again. You knew your situation caused a lot of unneeded stress on the poor man.

It took three whole days before Solomon was able to change you back.

But when you were human again you didn’t expect Lucifer to hug you so tightly or give you such a firm kiss. He had missed his human being, well, a human far more than he cared to admit.

But you better make good on helping him relax. I think there’s some grey in his hair now.

Mammon:

Haha, good joke, Solomon! Now, where was his human? Really, where were they hiding?

He was so sure it was a prank and you were taking pictures from the bushes or something.

When you voice sounded from the small sheep Mammon nearly fainted.

What the fuck did Solomon do to his human?! The Great Mammon’s human was a sheep!

You explained your situation and Mammon only grew more jittery.

He was grinding his teeth. He didn’t hesitate, though, to snatch you away from Solomon and hold you like you were the most sacred thing in the whole of Devildom.

“Ya better turn them back! I can make money at the casinos so name the price!”

Oh he was serious. Mammon was willing to pay good Grimm just to turn you back.

And Solomon, after cruel teasing with pricing your return to human at over a million Grimm, said he would do it for free. After all, there was no telling if this would wear off or if it needed to be reversed.

So he would do it. It was a good chance to study your potion recipe and figure out how you fucked up.

Mammon, like his older brother, took you literally everywhere with him. But by everywhere I do mean everywhere. Lucifer at least had the decency to leave you out when he went to the bathroom. Mammon did not.

He was also making sure to keep you away from Asmo, who had fallen for your pink and fluffy form on sight. 

Mammon talked to you like you were still human. He treated like his human.

But he also acted like you would break at any second. He had never been so careful in his life.

He honestly cried on the third day, worried you might be stuck as a sheep. He didn’t know what to do.

Of course, you were turned back by that evening. Solomon had dropped by to check in and the potion naturally wore off.

Mammon hugged you so tight you felt like you were being suffocated.

But he was back to normal the second Solomon joked that he wanted to get paid for his efforts.

Levi:

Once Solomon was able to get into his bedroom, Levi just about fainted at the sight of you.

He wasn’t even skeptical about this.

It was just like the anime “Help I’ve Accidentally Been Turned Into a Sheep and Now I’m Stuck!”. Literally, just like the anime! 

You needn’t worry about anyone trying anything with you while Solomon worked to turn you back, it wasn’t like you would be leaving Levi’s room very much.

You were in his lap almost 24/7 save for when you needed food or to go to the bathroom. Or he needed to do the same. 

His room was a fortress so you were pretty much safe. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you got to spend quite that much time with your otaku. He could be difficult at times, especially when he was playing a game.

You actually relished the time spent as a sheep because of it.

Levi was not-so-secretly getting more and more anxious though. 

He saw the anime! He made you watch it with him in one sitting, too! What if this turned out just like the anime and you never turned back into a human?

The main character in the anime was a sheep for an entire YEAR!

If he had a soul it would have left his body at the very thought.

By the end of the third day you could tell he was totally falling apart.

His partner was a sheep. Probably forever.

With a poof of pink smoke you were human again.

And Levi unconscious because, for some reason, you turned human and had no clothes on.

You just put on some of his clothes for the time being and called Solomon.

You caught a glimpse in the mirror as you were on the phone and told him to keep working on that reversal potion.

You still had sheep fluff for hair, horns, and sheep ears...

Satan:

If looks could kill then Solomon would have been dead where he stood.

The sin of wrath was so pissed off that there was an evil, menacing aura radiating from him.

And it was directed solely at Solomon.

“I don’t even want you working on a way to turn them back. You might be a great sorcerer but I’m going to do this myself.”

He snatched you away and slammed the door in the sorcerer’s face.

No one tried to bother him as he stormed back to his room. 

“I promise I’m going to turn you back, MC.”

He poured over his books and had you give him the potion you had been making. You had to tell every single detail you could remember of what happened leading up to your transformation.

But he didn’t only focus on turning you back.

He couldn’t neglect you being in the room with him. You still brought out the calm within him and made him feel at ease.

When you insisted he take breaks, he would make some tea and give you a straw so you didn’t get tea in your wool.

Like he usually did, he read to you when you wanted to go to sleep. It was even more relaxing holding a warm ball of fluff.

But he barely slept.

He had to figure out a way to turn his favorite person back to normal.

You were still you, no doubt about that, but he missed you being a person. Someone he could kiss and hold hands with. Someone he didn’t have to worry about accidentally crushing or losing because you were so small.

He finally figured it out. He studied your potion recipe for hours on end until he figured out what went wrong. You had been given a recipe that had been “mislabeled”.

Knowing that made it a cinch to turn you back within the hour.

Now to murder the dodgy sorcerer who gave you the recipe for class to begin with.

Asmo:

“Whaaaaaat? MC? A sheep? Oh, darling, you are so cute! And so soft!!”

He canonically loves cute things (did you read the Devilgram story about him taking care of bunnies?) so he was having the time of his life.

And then it hit him as soon as Solomon laughed.

He couldn’t go out on dates with you. He couldn’t kiss you. Or see your stunning face. Your voice wasn’t the same. 

Solomon promised to do what he could to fix this, but it could take a few days.

Did he spend the next hour crying and hugging your fluffy body? Yes, yes he did.

You got him calmed down, reassuring him that it was temporary and there were some perks. He would totally get lots of attention on Devilgram if he posted your pictures! You were pink, his favorite color! You had lots of soft wool he could brush and he could paint your tiny sheep hooves!

That perked him right up.

He spent the next several hours styling your wool, somehow managing to put braids in it. He gave you cute decorative pieces to wear in your wool, painted your hooves to match his nails, and even gave you a little bowtie!

And boy did his Devilgram blow up with attention at the sight of your pictures.

You even inspired his newest clothing designs! Clothing for pets! Devildom didn’t have a cute variety of pet clothes, and while you weren’t a pet, you were very inspiring to look at.

Even pets deserved to look beautiful!

You were so soft to snuggle with but nighttime really made him miss you. Even in an innocent way, he missed skin-to-skin cuddling. It was always so reassuring.

But he didn’t have that.

He managed to get through the days that went by before Solomon finally turned you back.

And he was beginning to wonder if Solomon had drawn out your time as a sheep on purpose.

That didn’t matter, though. Not when he had to take you out on a date!

Beel:

Solomon was holding something soft and fluffy. Was it food? Cotton candy? It looked really sweet and tasty.

“Beel, no, it’s me!”

“MC...?”

He wasn’t happy once the situation was explained. But he didn’t show it. To be fair, he wasn’t the most outwardly expressive of his emotions unless it was necessary.

With Solomon’s promise to return you to normal, he just carried you back to the kitchen with him.

But he wasn’t hungry anymore. Not when his dear human was in a new and unusual form.

It caused him to go into a bit of a crisis, though.

What did sheep eat? What could YOU eat? You were a human in a sheep’s body after all. Did you have to eat what sheep ate or could you still eat your favorite things?

He sat there, staring at the cupboards and fridge, with the most worried look on his face.

To be fair, you weren’t sure either.

And you two stayed liked that until Satan said you could still eat whatever you liked, though it would be best to avoid meat unless it was basically shredded. 

Then came Beel’s next huge crisis: he was terrified of crushing you!

You were so tiny and delicate now, even more fragile than when you were a human.

It took a little convincing but Beel took to carrying you literally everywhere you wanted to go. He loved how soft you were.

Though you didn’t like how often he drooled on you because your fluff looked too tasty. You promised to get him cotton candy once you were a human again, which kind of helped the situation.

Beel even made sure to make everything you ate easy on you! He didn’t want anything to be hurtful to your little sheep body or hard for you to eat!

He didn’t hesitate to help you drink the reversal potion once Solomon got it made, holding his breath until he saw you in your proper state again.

He could breathe easy again. 

Belphie:

What was Solomon carrying? A new pillow or something?

It looked so soft and like it would be a perfect napping pillow.

He wasn’t even listening to anything Solomon had to say, the explanation going in one ear and out the other.

He was focused on going inside to use the new pillow.

Until he heard you talking to him after Solomon had given up on explaining anything.

Now he was mildly concerned. You weren’t you anymore. You were a sheep. He actually listened as you told him your story, unlike with Solomon, and he merely shrugged.

“Well, what can you do? You’ll be normal again eventually.”

You knew your grumpy demon, though. He was worried about you. But Belphie was never good at showing his worry for others unless it was drastic.

True to form, he passed out once he laid down again. You were held against him as if you might disappear while he slept.

It was all the more proof he was worried about your situation.

He still slept most of the time, he was like a cat in that he slept for hours without moving. You had to wiggle free to do anything. No one wanted to wake up to a sheep smelling like piss and you didn’t want a bath.

Belphie whined that taking care of you as a sheep was too much work, but the moment anyone tried to take you from him he immediately got defensive. He even threatened to break Mammon’s hands.

The only one he trusted with you was Beel.

Always sleeping holding your little sheep self did make him realize he wanted a stuffed animal version of you just like that.

It was so nice to snuggle with.

But he missed the normal you. He wanted to have you to lay on or go “star” gazing with. He wanted to do things with you again that weren’t quite possible with you as a sheep.

So he may have gone to find Solomon and threaten him if he didn’t turn you back quicker.

It was all for naught, as he came home to find you curled up in his bed in your human form once again.

He’d wake you up later. For now, he wanted to take another nap with you.

[parvulous-writings]

Karl Heisenberg // SFW alphabet

Request: So there was no actual request, I just knew this would cheer up my closest friend. 

Dedicated to: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker

Summary: A sfw A-Z for Karl Heisenberg, from Resident Evil Village!

Warnings: Explicit language

Notes: Please, have some Soft!Heisenberg, bor. It’s one of the many, many things you deserve.  To those who have requested oneshots- I am working on them, please be patient! My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

He’s never affectionate publicly. Behind closed doors, though- well maybe he’s not your stereotypical lovey-dovey type, but hey-ho, he shows it in his own little way. A few hugs, but mostly through making you things. Music boxes, little figures and robots that wind up, you name it, he’ll try and make it. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

He’s not a friendly man, typically. He’s cold, and driven only by his motives. It takes a long time for him to warm up to you, but when he eventually does he is always by your side, whenever you should need him. Be it for violence, or for an ear to pour your thoughts into- even though half the time you swear he’s not listening completely. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Heisenberg likes warm cuddles above all others. The kind where he can pull you close and hold you there for a while- he likes feeling you against his chest. It’s comforting to him, after years of no affection and a torturous living experience. 

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Karl is not particularly skilled in any domestic skill. He’s very mediocre at cooking, and he can’t clean to save his life- his factory is littered with dust and other probably very harmful particles. He isn’t very good in a domestic environment at all, really. 

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Blunter than a broken pencil I’m afraid. He’s never had to hide something from you in the past, so why should this be any different? He would not want to beat around the bush here, he’d annoy himself with pleasantries and euphemisms. 

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

He’s perfectly fine staying as partners, without marriage looming over the pair of you. Quite frankly, he doesn’t think it’s worth it.  “A piece of damn paper to show someone your fucking devotion? Bullshit.” 

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Unless you’re shaking like a leaf or have specifically asked him to be gentle with or around you, he’s not going to be. He’ll treat you much how he treats most others- with a little bit of affection for zest and flavour every now and then. 

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

While he likes cuddles, he isn’t a huge fan of hugs. He thinks they’re too short to show any real affection, and often get in the way of whatever task the recipient is trying to perform.  

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

S l o w l y. This man has gone through some stuff, and doesn’t want to get attached to people despite falling for you. Give him a chance. 

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Okay so he may be “non-committal” in a loose sense of the term, but this man is one jealous motherfucker. And he gets angry. I’m talking  punching the wall, lashing out and breaking shit kind of angry. It’s mostly because of a nagging fear that not only will he lose you to someone you think is better or less monstrous than he is, but also in part due to a feeling that because of what he was forced to become, he isn’t good enough to keep you for himself. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He kisses you on your hands or neck mostly. Those are his favourite places to kiss you. He occasionally kisses you on the inside of your wrist. If you have any scars as well, he’ll kiss them. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

It depends. Sometimes he’s the perfect uncle figure, others he’s a whirlwind of rage. If you’re taking him to see some children for a prolonged amount of time, please check how he’s acting and feeling on the day so there isn’t some sort of horrific accident. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

There’s nothing special about them, he’s usually up long before you are. He doesn’t leave anything like a hot beverage behind, unless it’s a special occasion that he’s remembered- like a birthday or anniversary. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

He often tells you to go to bed before him, as he’s usually working on something, and would rather not have to worry about you being down in his factory and workshop. 

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

When he’s extremely angry. He gets riled up, then will start to spill facts and secrets while hardly even realising it. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a very short fuse and a violent temper, to say the least. There’s a reason the man swears so much. Though he will often apologise if he’s scared you after an outburst. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

He remembers the basic things at the very least- Your name, your habits on eating and drinking, what you do to amuse yourself. He’s quite observant, actually. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

He made you a small music box once. The past part of his day, or his entire week, was seeing your smile as you opened it and listened to it for the first time. It was the widest he’d ever seen you smile, and he loved the feeling it gave him. 

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Very. One particular other Lord- “Lady Super-Sized Bitch,” as Heisenberg has dubbed her- is very interested in your presence, and Heisenberg has made it very much his business to keep you practically under lock and key to keep you safe. And when Ethan Winters comes around? Ooh, boy. You ain’t leaving his sight. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

He does try- through making trinkets and gadgets to both help you and show his affection. Sometimes it may not always seem that way though, with his outbursts and his tantrums. 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

He smokes. You tried to get him to quit once, then stopped when you realised it made him more irritable. 

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not that concerned. If he’s still kicking... Well that’s all that matters to him. 

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d feel that something’s wrong, something’s not right- a cog missing from a machine, in a sense. And he hates that feeling. 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

This man would die for some ice-cream. You bring him a tub of the stuff- BAM, instant good mood for the next like two days. 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

This man is not fussy, in the slightest. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

He basically doesn’t, he gets so little it’s a wonder he can actually function normally. 

[deidearly]

Shikamaru Relationship Headcanons

Back with another relationship headcanons of Shikamaru, this time! I had fun writing these, so, please enjoy! X. 

He’s the type of person that would think every kind of activities that require efforts are a drag. The concept of ‘dating’, obviously, falls in the “what a drag” category— but dating you, however, is something he’d gladly do.

Hear me out, despite being very chill on the outside, Shikamaru is pretty much an overthinker. For example, he’d try to look uninterested on your first date. Would totally throw any outfit that he found comfortable. But in his mind, he’s DESPERATELY trying to figure you out, like

“DOES Y/N HATE MY OUTFIT” , “Why is she frowning— DOES SHE HATE EATING HERE” , “Man, wouldn’t it be a drag if she actually hated me”

A lot of “Hey, can you come over?” dates.

For relationship advices, he listens more to Choji’s than Ino’s.

“Listen, Shikamaru. The most important thing is your gestures. You have to show Y/N that you’re actually a fine gentleman—“ , “Just give her your last piece of meat then I bet she’d love you forever.” you can already guess which one is Ino and which one is Choji, right?

SHOGI DATES

So, the first time he had shogi date in his mind, he was REALLY overthinking it. He thought, you’d hate playing shogi together since it’s boring and it’s considered an old person game. But to his surprise, you LIKE it.

At first, of course, you were very bad it. Shikamaru beat you mercilessly— and would laugh hysterically about you losing.

But you started to understand how the game works and you’d eventually came up with a lot of strategies in your mind. So, one day, during your “can you come over” dates— you suggested, “Hey, why don’t we play Shogi?”

Shikamaru really didn’t see what’s coming

It was a tight match

Shikaku was watching

YOU WON

You left the Naras SPEECHLESS for MINUTES

Shikaku’s eyes were widened— he spent his years losing to Shikamaru. But today, as you grinned widely, Shikamaru sat in defeat. The younger Nara stayed calm, examining his pawns. On the contrary, the older Nara bursted into laughter, hitting his son’s shoulder repeatedly. “Y/N! You actually beat Shikamaru!”

Shikamaru’s mad on the outside but internally he’s like, “WIFEY.”

Seriously, don’t feel bad. For him, you’re a God-sent now that you beat him in Shogi. He’s planning a wedding in his mind.

Now let’s talk about touches. He’s not a big fan of PDA, because for him, it makes people uncomfortable. But he’s SO amazing with words— he’s a big flirt and there are so many aggressive sexual tensions between the two of you and THAT’S WHAT MAKES PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE ACTUALLY

“Do you think you can paralyze him with your shadow jutsu, Shikamaru?” , “Seriously, Y/N? If I could strangle you last night then I’m pretty sure I can now—“ , “(Ino, stressed out in a battlefield) GUYS COME ON NOT NOW HE HAS A BLADE.”

His favorite way to spend some time with you is obviously by taking a nap together, especially after a tiring missions. He’d take off his vest and throw himself on the bed. You’d stand near his bed and he’d go, “Come.” inviting you to sleep next to him.

He loves it when you’re curled up next to him inside a blanket— skins touching. He’d bury his head in your hair and play with your hair lazily until he’s asleep.

NEVER WAKES HIM UP because he has the prettiest face when he’s asleep like he looks so peaceful

Please, kiss him right after he wakes up. He just gained a lot of energy and it’s the best time to earn what you deserve!

“Y/N, how long have you been awake?” he whispered while rubbing his eye when he saw your back— sitting on the edge of the bed. Without saying anything, you crawled to him, leaning in for a kiss. Just when your lips touched, his hands began to travel down to your waist, pulling your weight closer to him. His fingers traced your skin as he deepened your kiss. “Excited much?” you broke the silence, “I thought you’re the one who’s excited.” he smirked.

Besides taking a nap together, he really likes having an interesting discussions with you. Please ask him about his opinions, theories, or basically anything! He’d spend hours explaining things and end up lost in his own thoughts but I swear it’s worth it because he’s so passionate talking about the things he’s interested in!

Would be very flustered at the end (but would try to hide it) because he’d think you’re bored

“Ah, sorry, Y/N.—“ , “*heart eyes* NO, PLEASE, CONTINUE.”

As much as he loves having discussions with you, he hates having to argue with you, though.

Arguing, especially with you, definitely falls in the “what a drag” category, too. He’s a determined guy— and so with his principles. So, when the both of you are being stubborn, he’d definitely leave you mid-argument, bidding his farewell.

Something like, “You know what, Y/N? This has been quite a drag. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But boy will be in a full emo mode later at night

Would stare at the ceiling for hours. Pretending to play Shogi with someone. All these to distract himself as he’s trying to cool himself down.

You wouldn’t believe it, but he’d totally walk to your place at night and wait outside your window for some time but then decided to come back home. He knows that he was being a little like a jerk by leaving you in a middle of the conversation.

He’d come first thing in the morning to make up with you.

“Shikamaru, what are you doing?” , “I brought breakfast.”

It would be a little awkward at first, eating breakfast together after a heated argument with no settlement. But he’d be the one to apologize, and he’d be the type to apologize with no “but”s. He’s very nice like that.

All he ever wants to do is cloud-gazing with you, tbh. 

Even though he appears to be a cool person, he’s quite sensitive especially when he’s frustrated. When he’s unable to solve things, when there’s no way out.

It’s very heart-breaking to see him cry, actually. His body would shake, heavy sobs, gritted teeth. It’s painful. 

It happened one time when he found out you had been seriously injured after a mission.

You were together assigned for a mission with the other crews, and he was the one who came up with the battle plan. He trusted you with your power, so he put you with the strongest opponent as well. Unfortunately, he miscalculated your opponent who, apparently, got so much surprise attacks under his sleeve— leaving you defeated.

He blamed it on himself.

He stayed with you every day when you’re hospitalized. Looking at your bruises face triggered every fibers in his body. His head hurt— and tears started to heavily poured from his eyes.

You wake up to the sound of Shikamaru crying, his head was buried on the bedsheet. You could actually tell how he was in agony by the way his body trembled. “Shikamaru.” you called weakly— but it surprised him. His eyes were swollen red, runny nose, and his cheeks wet from his tears. “I’m okay—“ , “It’s my fault, Y/N. I didn’t—“ , “I’m okay.” you repeated yourself.

And from that moment onwards, he swears to try his best to protect you from any sort of harm. He also promised himself to come back home, he doesn’t want to keep you alone for a long time— because deep down you both know that home is to be by each other’s side.

[kyberphilosopher]

Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed. 

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep. 

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now. 

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it. 

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore. 

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles. 

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly. 

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask. 

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch. 

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below. 

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now. 

“The kid?” you say at last. 

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building. 

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn. 

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends. 

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help. 

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt. 

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry. 

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him. 

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds. 

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex. 

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got. 

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one. 

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too. 

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest. 

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it. 

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side. 

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself. 

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad. 

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets. 

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh. 

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows. 

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly. 

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that. 

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman. 

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic. 

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome. 

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about ���some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd. 

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way. 

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too. 

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

[hexisqueer]

wish you cared

a/n: this was a rollercoaster to write, and through tears, all i say is, osamu big himbo :/  tw: swearing  word count: 3.9K (lot of word ;-;)  pairing: osamu x gn!reader  genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

The late nights with the light breathy words, whispered discussions, the iridescent illumination of the screen on you face, exchanging words that would have neither rhyme nor reason when the next day greeted you. But not a day went by that you didn’t giggle to yourself, alone in your room, as your eyes skimming over the words that Osamu’s fingers carelessly typed out. And you knew, before you realized, you knew in the deepest of hearts that you were gradually falling for the inane spiker, that this was your middle school infatuation. Little did you realize that this was not, in fact, an infatuation but rather something that would plague you for years, building up for years, overwhelming you, pouring out, resulting in meaningless words and broken hearts.

But for now, it was no different than normal, your heart skipping a beat as he replied to every message of yours, head whirling with possibilities of what he would say next, feeling slightly giddy if you were to describe the emotion you experienced.

The truth was that talking to Osamu Miya, it was like being intoxicated. Not that you truly knew what it meant to be in such a state, but this was what you imagined it to be like. Always waiting for more, desiring to keep going, for the night to just still right then so you may converse endlessly, not having to worry about your mundane duties as the moonlight that shone through your windows left you feeling light-headed and weightless.

But the moon always set to give way to a new day, where you could see him in real time, but none of it felt as ethereal as the late-night talks, as intimate as it was when it was just the two of you alone, as scandalous as it felt spending hours mindlessly revealing the tiniest details of yourself to him.

You’d hoped, of course, that things wouldn’t change when time came for high school; the time, most say, is when old relationships are forgotten, the path to the future is forged, a future you hoped still entailed the time you spent with the Miya twins and Suna. You weren’t ready to move on from Osamu yet, you’d never really gotten to know if he returned the emotions you experienced. And so, you ended up a freshman at Inarizaki High, manager for the volleyball team, an integral part of the group.

You were content. Or so you thought.

Y/n was not someone who forgot easily. This was a thought that occasionally graced the train of thought that ran across Osamu Miya’s mind. They hadn’t forgotten when he said he preferred citrus drinks over plain water, hadn’t forgotten the day he’d mentioned that onigiris were his favorite, or the time he’d wished someone would make him a playlist for when he cooked.

A thought that sprang to mind as he sipped on his lemon water every practice, you beside him, mocking Atsumu, or having sarcastically enthusiastic conversations with Sunarin, or tilting your head upwards to smile at him and telling him about your day while he chuckled lightly.

A thought that crossed his mind every time you cheerfully called out his name during lunch, plopping your pale blue lunchbox on the table, bringing out an onigiri for him every other day, leading to much whining by Atsumu, but he liked it; he was special to you, not his brother, not Sunarin, it was him.

A thought that occurred to him as he put on his headphones, clicking on the song queue you made for him, one that was admittedly perfect for his cooking, calming enough for him to know what he doing, yet passionate enough for him to feel inspired. He never told anyone, but each dish he procured after a day’s cooking, was modelled after a particular song you spent day picking out to put in his playlist; one that was just for him.

He liked being special in your eyes. It made him feel like he was at the top of the world. He noticed, even if you didn’t realize, he noticed everything you did for him. Your encouragement for him at volleyball matches slightly louder than for the rest, not enough for anyone to realize but enough for him to spike the ball down stronger as your voice drowned out the crowds’ cheers for him. The sound of happiness you made eating his food, always motivating him, telling him that he was the best chef you’d ever met. The subtle blush that spread across your face as he patted your head, ruffled your hair. How a simple smile from him could light up your face, no matter how bad you’d been feeling before that.

And how could he ever forget the conversations you had under the covers of darkness? The night only rejuvenated his hope that you were only his, your gentle words and stupid memes, the quiet chuckling under his blankets that made Atsumu throw a pillow at him, yelling at him to take his ‘lover boy’ talks elsewhere.

That was the part he disliked. He was fond of you, of everything you did for him, of how you made him feel like he could do anything when you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. You were his friend. Not everything was about romance. Just because your face made every day, and night, of his better, it did not mean he had to be in love with you. You weren’t exceptionally attractive or anywhere close to the type he preferred, so why did people assume he was in love with you?

For some reason, however, he couldn’t utter those words to you. He knew, that you liked him, else why would you do so much for him? But he chose to ignore it, because if the truth came out and you decided to part ways with him seeing as nothing would ever come out of your efforts, he couldn’t bear it. He needed you. He wanted you.

But not in the way you wanted him. So, he kept you around, no matter how selfish that was.

“Good work, captain!” You smile at Kita-san, handing him a water bottle, quickly moving down the line. “Good work, dipshit.” You toss the bottle to Atsumu who stuck his tongue out at you. “Work, Suna,” you teased and received an eyeroll in response. Handing out all the bottle and murmuring ‘good work’, you finally moved to Osamu.

You loved the whole team and spending time with all of them was something that you adored, but you always saved the last bottle for Osamu. You were sure to keep it separate from the other ones, tucked in the pocket of the basket you carried so you didn’t mistake it for another bottle.

“Here ya go Osamu, good work today! You’re getting so much better.” You face away from him, towards the pair that were walking towards you now that they had a small break.

“Thanks y/n. So, did you decide who you would like as your partner for the English project the teacher assigned us? I mean Sunarin and Atsumu would be glad to have you as their partner too, seeing as you’re the genius among us.” He brought his face down closer, attempting a mocking tone, but it came out as a genuine whisper, directly sounding in your ear, that made a shiver run down your spine.

“W-well, I h-haven’t really decided yet, but I-I was thinking we could work together.” His proximity had flustered you. Your face tilted slightly upwards to him, and only then did you realize that god fucking dammit he’s too close, I can’t think like this. The thumping of your heart against your chest didn’t help either, or the fact that he, apparently, didn’t understand how much you affected him.

You collected yourself before you stuttered anymore. However, barely a word passed your lips that you were interrupted. “Ay lovebirds. This is still a public place. Yer too close to them, ‘Samu. Do you not see how red they’re turning?” You blink twice and throw a punch at the blond, missing completely in your embarrassed state, end up crossing your arms while the two laughed.

“Aw did I say something wrong though? Are you upset I exposed you to your knight in shining covers? Ya talk way too much with him at night. Do you even get any sleep?”

“Just shut up, ‘Tsumu.” Gathering up all the bottles, you walk away, too discomposed to face Osamu after what his twin said. It was probably already obvious to him, but you didn’t want to be humiliated like this in front of someone you held so dear. At the water cooler, you realize you’ve forgotten to bring Osamu’s bottle in your hurry to get as far away from him at that moment as possible. “Fuck.”

You turn back towards the gym.

The three boys watched y/n almost sprint away, laughing lightly. He can feel two sets of eyes on him, and the question echoes in his head. When are you confessing ‘Samu? He wasn’t. How could he when it would just be a lie? He didn’t want to be unfair with you, you deserved a shot at true love. But then again, he wasn’t exactly giving you a chance here was he? Keeping you bound to him, avoiding conversations about admitting romantic intentions, flustering you just for a reaction when he knows, he knows what he does to you.

“You should confess ‘Samu.” His brother’s voice sounded out, unusually soft and serious. Sunarin eyed him, seemingly thinking the same words, but not uttering them. This was the last straw. He had grown tired of people asking him about his affection for y/n, he didn’t realize how or when, but he had. He didn’t want to keep having to repeat the same tactics over and over, dodge and deflect. He was done talking about you in his free time, time he would much rather spend with you than about you, and people just didn’t seem to get it.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” The words came out as a snarl, his temper rising too high too fast. “I don’t fucking like y/n, they’re not my type. I just keep them around because I know they care.” He inhaled, avoiding all the staring eyes of his teammates. The words had come out unintentionally hostile, but he was glad he’d said them. “I mean, have you seen them? They’re not really attractive or interesting at all. It’s just because they make me feel special that they still hang around with us, that I let them hang with us.” His secret came spilling out and he didn’t regret it; he was glad to finally get it off his chest.

Atsumu and Suna, however, weren’t listening to him anymore. They were both staring past him, at the sight behind him, which Osamu whirled around to see. You were standing completely still, arms trembling at your sides, basket of bottles at your feet, eyes glassy.

The whole team followed you with their gaze as you quietly walk to the captain, bow without opening your eyes, murmur out an apology and exit the gymnasium as fast as you could. It was not a swift recognition of what had happened, but Osamu understood eventually that it was his words that had caused this. His brother and Suna merely stood there, shock evident in their eyes. “So, you were just taking advantage of them?” Osamu’s head whipped up at the soft voice of his captain. His words were calm but his expression was one of silent fury. “Do you truly realize how much you broke them with those few sentences? You may not have understood it but, we can all see it. They don’t just care for you, they love you. More than you’ve ever loved anything in your life.”

Osamu was overwhelmed, to say the least. He never intended to hurt you like that, but it had happened. Now, what of all those late-night talks and secret shared smiles? What of the playlists you made for him and the encouraging words you whispered to him before a game? What of his onigiri supply that you procured for him from your little blue lunchbox and the motivating comments you gave him on his cooking?

Before he could stop it, the stinging behind his eyes gave way to tears. Not because he loved you, he still didn’t harbor any romantic intentions towards you, he didn’t want to. But because his heart ached at the thought of being away from you, at the idea of losing you to another group of people, at the realization that you belonged with him.

Belonged with him, just as friends.

Your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. It was bad enough that you learnt that someone you’d been in love with for years now, had just been using you, but it was worse that he admitted clearly it in front of a group of people that you adored. The shattering of your heart as he spoke masked the quiet chatter of his teammates at the display. The humiliation seeped through you, the pitying glances of the team piercing you as Osamu’s words echoed in your ears - have you seen them … not my type … let them hang with us … keep them around … not attractive or interesting.

If that was what he really thought, then why did he let you make those advances? Why did he let you make a laughing stock out of yourself by doing so much for him? Why did he make you believe that he was equally interested, staying up late with you, returning the same energy you exuded?

You knew why now – he wanted to be special. He wanted to bask in the passion that you showed towards him without having to reciprocate any of the emotions. And you gave him that every day, didn’t you? Making him a separate water bottle, bringing him an onigiri, compiling playlists for him, asking him to work with you on the project even if it usually ends up with you doing all the work so you can keep up your grades?

Everything you did, you did for him. What hurt most was that he had been there for you too. He was, in all truth, your best friend. He knew every insecurity, every desire.

The time when your grades plummeted because you stayed up too late, he was there to comfort you, hold your hand and let you lean on his shoulder, cry in fear of what your parents would say, murmuring in low voices about things he did that day to distract you. The time you had refused to leave your room for days after watching that terribly sad anime, he was there to knock some sense into you, but he also laid gentle kisses on your forehead and let you explain ‘everything that was wrong with the world’. The time that he snuck into your bedroom at night just because you mentioned that you were bored and wanted to meet him; cuddling with him until he fell asleep, so you let him stay the night, waking up with his arm around your waist.

And yet, he had absolutely no hesitation in bad-mouthing you in front of everyone you were close with. Did none of that mean anything to him?

Even as the tears streamed down your face, the anger built up slowly, creeping out of you, staying with you long after your face was dry and eyes were left red. And that’s when you decided – Miya Osamu wasn’t special to you anymore. First things first, you had to sort out a few things; your life revolved around the gray-haired spiker. Well, no more.

Pulling out your phone, a text message is sent just a quickly as it is typed out.

y/n [13:25] hey tsumu, I need a partner for the English project. Do it with me or you suck. You were deflecting your emotions with humor, and yet if his face came to mind, you would breakdown right where you stood.

tsum-tsum [13:27] y/n! oh god, where are you????

y/n [13:30] um, home? Where else would I be?

tsum-tsum [13:31] are you okay? I think you should let ‘Samu explain himself. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of that. It was probably all just a lie, just so he didn’t have to answer us.

y/n [13:40] Atsumu I know yer his brother but you don’t have to cover for him like this. He said what he said. We all heard him loud and clear. It’s alright, each to their own ig.

tsum-tsum [13:42] y/n I know what he did is wrong but hes locked himself in his room and he needs to process his feelings. Yer the only one who can talk to him, so please please im begging, help him out.

y/n [13:50] I appreciate the offer but I will have to decline. It’s not often you find out yer being used by someone you love, and you rarely want to see their face after.

tsum-tsum [13:51] love? tsum-tsum [13:51] you actually love him?

y/n [13:52] ah fuck. don’t tell him I said that, I don’t want him to know this now, after he told us how he feels. y/n [13:53] Tsumu? Hello?? y/n [13:53] please don’t do it.

Osamu felt… empty. It was like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think. He was sat on his bed, staring at his phone. He tried to contact you, but none of his calls went through and his texts were undelivered. Was this how it was going to be? No more midnight conversations, no more spontaneous gifts, no more affection or encouragement? He had never implied that he wanted a relationship with you, then why were you so broken?

He never intended anything romantic… did he?

He was a fucking liar and he knew it. He knew what he was doing when he snuck into your room to spend the night with you. He knew what he does when he puts his arms around you and buries his face in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort. He knew how you felt every time he stood behind you, your breathing slightly faster, a faint blush running down your neck, struggling not to stutter over your words.

Osamu wanted to scream. Everything about you was adorable. When you weren’t with him, it ached. His arms itched to wrap themselves around you, forehead leaning against yours, your lips moving against his ears, telling him that it would be okay when the coach yelled at him; calming him down when Atsumu got on his nerves; making him smile when nothing went his way. You were there, since middle school, and he never got tired of being around you.

You were his as he was yours. And he…

He loved you.

The tears finally came. Messy and fast, moans escaping his lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups, tears welling up and spilling over no matter how hard he tired to wipe them away. The door slammed open and a furious Atsumu grabbed him by his collar. Osamu could barely fight back, much too devasted as the words he said in the gymnasium came echoing back to him. He loathed himself, for saying all that, even as he knew, you were the light in his life.

Atsumu was yelling at him but the words fazed past him. Out of the blue, his face stung, a slap landed squarely on his face. “Yer so stupid, ‘Samu. They loved you. They loved you and this is how you respond?” Only at Osamu’s sobbing calls for you did Atsumu realize that maybe, maybe his brother had finally understood his own emotions. “Are ya- are ya okay?” The blond wrapped an arm around his twin, pulling him in close while the latter wept, for minutes, hours. It was his own fault, for not seeing all the signs and now he had lost you forever. “It’s not forever ‘Samu. Not if you fix it right now. Do you really want to give them up?”

Cries slipped past Osamu’s lips. No, no he didn’t.

The fervent knocks on your door gave way to the shaking figure of Miya Osamu, his hands balled up in fists, head aimed downwards as quiet sobs escaped his mouth. “Y- y/n.” His arm wiped across his face, failing miserably to compose him. “Pl-please talk to me. I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

Merely the sight alone was almost enough for you to reach out to him; almost. “Go away Miya. I would like to retain my dignity, thank you very much.” You reached to swing the door shut, only to be blocked by a trembling arm. There were no words but you could see it in his eyes – something, something had changed. It was saddening, watching the strong, self-confident spiker fall to his knees at your bedroom door, no longer able to hold it open.

You’d tried all your life to pry open the door between the two of you, making every effort to keep you both close, getting along with his friends, cutting off ties with anyone he didn’t deem fit to interact with you. You did it for him – but you were tired; holding the door open this long, it hurt, a deep ache that pulled on your heart strings; binding you to him but at what cost?

“I wish-,” your voice came out quivering, your lips carefully trying to form words around the lump in your throat. Osamu glanced up, gazing at your through watery eyes, hopeful, longing. “I wish you would have told me, before I invested so much of myself. But then again, I should have realized, that when something seems too good to be true, Miya, it usually is.”

He gets up slowly and reaches to you, with shivering fingers, but you step back and his fingers clench into a loose fist, eyes showing emotions that have never graced his face before. Atsumu promised, it’s probably not too late yet. You can still convince them. But behind your stained face, was resignation. You were no longer his. He had lost you, the ground underneath him crumbling away, the thread that you had so carefully woven the only thing connecting the both of you.

A thread, that could not bear anymore weight. Before he could say anything to bring back what you had before, you spoke. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry I wasn’t everything you wanted. But I’m done. My heart is tired of being played with.” You glanced at him with determination clear in your eyes.

“N-no, no please y/n. Let me explain.”

“I think, I think this is goodbye Miya Osamu. I hope you find someone who made the moon seem as beautiful to you, as you did for me.” With that, you gave him a forlorn smile, shutting off the door that connected you to him, snapping any threads surrounding you. Not another word was exchanged ever.

And yet, at that moment, you were tied, sitting on either of your mahogany bedroom door, weeping for someone you would never have.

[stovetuna]

Oh! Oh! Your Tony-finally-accepts-Steve-Loves-him fic was so lovely. A+ 🥺

And the reverse-ish! The first time Steve realizes Tony doesn’t actually believe him when he says I love you and how Steve both reacts and comes to term with the situation (does he plan on talking about it? Love offensive with super romantic dates? Figure out that the solution to this problem a marathon not a sprint?)

aaaaaahhh I am gonna EXPIRE

can you imagine?? the moment I think about it my heart absolutely BREAKS in the best, most bittersweet way, because oh, Steve. you really thought the moment you kissed Tony the first time—you were sitting next to him on the living room sofa, a whole empty seat on either side of you because you were so unnecessarily close together, but then you were struck by the thought not close enough, and you were in the middle of listening to and watching Tony watch the Lost in Space reboot (so many science critiques you didn't understand a lick of but you are more than happy to play audience to the things Tony cares about, loudly) when you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of Tony's motormouth, which apparently was all the invitation Tony needed to crawl into your lap and press his warm, warm, warm lips to yours and kiss the breath out of you—he understood.

because it was so easy to go from best friends to romantic partners, and you had years of friendship between you to hearken back to. Plenty of moments when you thought you'd made it clear to Tony that you loved him, that you cared about him, that you admired and respected and yes, deep down (not that deep, really) were very much attracted to him.

you thought.

so when you kiss the first time, you think he knows. when you go on your first real date and play footsie all night under the table and hold hands the whole walk home, you think he knows. when, a few days later, he slides inside you, deep and hard and wet, and butterfly-kisses the tears from your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are as he fucks you, wailing, into the mattress, you know, down to your soul, to the basest atoms of your existence, that Tony loves you as much as you love him.

but something isn't right, because even as weeks, months go by, and you move into Tony's suite and fall asleep wrapped around him almost every night (except those when he's in another country, and the bed is almost as cold as the ice, or when he's consumed by some project in the workshop and loses track of time), and you tell each other "I love you" out loud multiple times, and say it without words in a million other ways, you get the feeling that Tony. doesn't. believe you?

you're baffled. genuinely, it doesn't make sense. you've loved each other for years. even when you fought, bloody and fierce and deeply, horrifically wrong, you loved each other. it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much—felt like a piece of you being ripped away, phantom pain aging you inwardly until every step in any direction that wasn't toward Tony was agony—if you didn't.

but even though Tony says it back, and he does, every time, even when you're yelling at each other after a battle goes "tits-up," thank you, Logan, he has this look in his eyes, and the only word you've been able to put to it is doubt.

at first you think it means Tony doubts you—your feelings, your intentions, yourself and all the baggage that entails—but that thought quickly passes. because you know he doesn't. you know, from experience, that Tony's worst thoughts and feelings very rarely have anything to do with anyone other than himself. which means Tony doubts himself. maybe even reality. not in a "you might be a Skrull" kind of way, but in a "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

and doesn't that just break your fucking heart.

for months you watch this doubt flicker like a guttering little flame in Tony's bright blue eyes, every time you say "I love you, Tony" with your voice. it's never there when you're brushing your teeth next to other in the morning, bumping hips and giggling like the children you never got to be; it's not there when you silently hand him his coffee and kiss him on the temple on his way out the door to a morning meeting, grousing on the phone even as he blows a kiss to you before the elevator doors close; it's not there when you sit down next to him after a battle, on the steps of some middle-of-nowhere courthouse that just got blown up by some no-name villain, taking unspeakable comfort in the radiating heat coming off the armor that kept Tony safe in combat, and without having to ask or say anything at all Tony takes the helmet off and you lean your foreheads together and just breathe each other's air, too relieved and too exhausted to kiss; it's not there when you make love to him, slowly, excruciatingly sweet, your hips rolling in a steady, undulating wave between Tony's long, golden thighs, his arms loose around your neck, his gorgeous voice gone raspy and quiet from screaming through two orgasms already, and you tell him to look at you as you come together one last time.

it's only when you say it. put words to it. make it real. that's when that banked ember of doubt flickers to life, and it feels like you have to start all over again. which isn't a hardship, per se. not at all, really. it's an honor and a privilege and an absolute pleasure to be a part of Tony's life like this. it's also frustrating, and infuriating, and dangerous, but that was always the case. the only difference is now, you can have make-up sex.

you fight about it first. it starts out in earnest, a forthright—if frighteningly vulnerable—conversation over dinner that turns into a shouting match to rival anything from the war that of course gets cut short by the Avengers alarm going off and having to Assemble before you can clear the air. he almost dies in the battle, short-circuited by an exceptionally advanced EMP that takes out the RT (and whoo, boy does that make you spiral, thinking back, to the moment you did that to Tony, almost killed him, and thinking those thoughts while you keep vigil at his bedside for days makes you wish harder than you ever have before in your life that you could drink yourself to death), and you're too relieved when he opens his eyes and the first word out of his mouth is your name, like he's the one who should be relieved, to bring it up again.

you love him. he loves you. it works. better than that, it's good. and eventually—quickly, even—you learn. you learn tell him in every which way you can think of, without words, how much you love him, and why. you text him pictures from your runs through Central Park (he makes the photo you sent him that spring, of the adolescent raccoon emerging from a hollowed-out tree, his lock screen for a week before he changes it back to a picture of you in bed drooling onto your pillow). you help him take off the armor when he's dead on his feet. you feed him. you train with him. you listen to him ramble on about bad movie science and cheer when Matt Damon mentions him in that Mars movie. (You literally cry laughing when Tony picks up the phone at the end of the movie and calls Matt Damon and tells him to text him next time, "I'll come pick you up, just stop getting lost in fucking space, asshole!")

you kiss his scarred fingers, with their fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises from working in the shop, with a reverence. you draw baths for him and don't join, even though it's one of your favorite things to do in the world, because you can just tell Tony is going through something and he needs the space to work it out for himself. you're always there to fish him out when the water gets cold, and by that time Tony's ready to tell you about whatever's eating him.

you call him every foul, dirty name in the book when you fuck him loudly against the wall and sob yourself hoarse when he makes love to you for what feels like hours, so slow and deep and steady you honestly lose track of how many times you come. you clean him up after and tuck him in. you kiss him on the forehead before you go on your morning run, every morning without fail (except for those when you're apart, and you still, even after almost two years, catch yourself mid-motion sometimes, about to kiss empty air—you text Tony about it and he laughs every time).

you learn to be patient. you learn to show more than you tell. because you realize that Tony was lied to his entire life, about so many things. Lied to his face about who he was, who he was going to be, who he never would be allowed to be. Told over and over again by liars and cheats and villains and friends and lovers and family that he wasn't worth the effort of loving. that he would never be loved for anything other than the black credit card in his wallet, the cars in his garage, the houses and the private jets and the clothes and the money and the things he invented—the things he made—that were supposed to help people but only ever ended up killing them.

money, and blood.

it's no wonder he doubts.

so you set yourself to the long and genuinely joyous (if at times frustrating) task of convincing Tony that not only do you love him, more than you've loved anything else in your life, ever will, but he is lovable. not worthy of love, not deserving, and he is those things, but inherently—he is a sweet, caring, kind, fierce, sexy, strong, dangerous, incredible, dorky, suave, fumbling genius of a man and he is loved for those things.

it takes time. good things always do.

you've had a little velvet box hidden away in your bottom bedside drawer for four months when Tony wakes up and sees you in bed with him, realizes you've been watching him sleep—so peacefully, the furrow between his brows erased, as you play with his slightly overgrown hair (you wish he'd keep it, but it's a hazard, in your line of work). you kiss him on the forehead and say good morning, sweetheart, because it is, even if it is pouring down rain outside.

maybe especially because it's raining outside. because here you are, high up among thick grey clouds that smother every inch of the city, so it's just you two, in this bed, together in your own little world, and you're watching that stubborn ember of doubt in Tony's eyes finally get washed away.

read part one

[egcdeath]

unwinding

summary: On Valentine’s Day, you receive a bit of a surprise.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: valentine’s day came early this year. like... over a month early i’m actually pretty proud of this! i hope you all enjoy :) 

p.s. this is part of @syntheticavenger​‘s lyric challenge, my prompt was: So let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions (Victoria Monet ‘Moment’)

warnings: so much fluff. before you read this, ask yourself (and your dentist) if you’re okay with getting a few cavities.

Being engaged to a fugitive from the law meant a few things.

For starters, your fiancé was almost never home, and when he was home, he wasn’t there for long. Whether it be a 3 AM knock on the door from Natasha, or soft and apologetic eyes bidding you farewell after a 4 day tryst, everything always seemed to end too soon.

The second being that you often had little to no warning when he was coming home, leaving you to go on a mad dash to put on something nice before your partner arrived at your front door. Between random messages from burner phones, and random deliveries of local goods to your door, you were often given short notice of when you’d be able to see Steve again.

Finally, despite his best efforts, Steve was frequently absent from holidays that you used to gleefully celebrate together.

As the soft clicks of the clock increased, and night drew nearer, you feared that your Valentine’s Day would end the same as the aforementioned days, yet, after hearing the chime of your doorbell reverberate through your home, you were filled with a semblance of hope.

You all but skipped down to your door to see what (or who) had arrived, and lit up with glee when you were handed a bouquet of yellow roses with a printed note attached to it.

You didn’t think I forgot about my best girl, did you? Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear. I’ll see you in an hour.

p.s. I just learned that yellow roses represent welcoming someone back, isn’t that nifty?

-S

You couldn’t help but to grin at the note, quickly thanking the delivery person, then bolting upstairs to prepare for Steve’s homecoming.

——

After debating with yourself about which candle scent Steve would enjoy smelling most, and filling up your oversized bathtub with a cocktail of soap, essential oils, and an overpriced bath bomb, you heard the door ring once again. This time, you had a good idea of who you’d be seeing. Upon opening the door, you were far from disappointed.

In the doorway stood your greek god of a fiancé, a lopsided grin on his face despite the scratches, bruises, and dried blood that seemed to litter his body. You immediately reached up to wrap him in a tight embrace and he gladly accepted it.

“Steve!” You cheered, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled, and you felt tear stains begin to latch onto his suit. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, before lightly pushing you further into the house.

“You have no idea of how much I missed you too,” said Steve in response. “I never wanna leave you again.”

At this, you somehow managed to squeeze him tighter, and he let out a soft grunt, screwing his face up. “Are you okay?” You asked before letting him go completely. “Take off the suit, let me take care of you.”

----

That’s how you ended up soaking in a bathtub with Steve, running your hands up and down his chest while he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. It became more and more apparent with every second that he was completely exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Now usually, you liked to spoil your man when he came back home, but after seeing his pure exhaustion, you decided to go all out. If anyone deserved a few hours of pure relaxation, it was certainly Steve.

You stirred and sat up, sloshing around the purple water that had been dyed by the aforementioned bath bomb, and attempted to readjust yourself so that you could at least make eye contact with Steve, who had now opened his eyes from your sudden movement.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the prior comfortable silence, and running a large hand through your hair.

“How about we unwind. Like, really, really unwind. The whole nine yards. I completely meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think that just a bath is gonna cut it,” you hummed while wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, attempting to bring your faces closer together.

“Hmm,” Steve attempted to look pensive, “Only if you insist.” At that, he gave you a toothy smile, then leaned in to close the gap between the two of you, and peck your lips.

Boy, was Steve in for it.

----

Sometime after the bath water eventually became unbearably cold, and your skin was so pruny that you swore it’d slip off, the two of you exited the bath.

The next task you set out to complete was a deep clean of your faces, which could only be accomplished with the help of a peel off face mask. You stood at your bathroom countertop and plugged in a facial steamer after filling the bottom opening.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked with a slight lisp, as he was currently flossing his pearly teeth.

“It’s a facial steaming thing. It’ll be good for your pores before the face mask, or some shit like that,” you stood back and allowed the small machine to make some strange noises as it started up.

Steve tossed the string into a trashcan before leaning over the counter and examining it, giving you the opportunity to press a button and turn the device on.

“What the hell was that?” He immediately recoiled at the sudden puff of steam, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can’t believe thee Captain America, who fights aliens and takes down governments on the regular is afraid of a little steam machine.”

“Hey, everyone gets startled sometimes,” he turned his head to give you a little pout. “How ‘bout you do it first, and show me how it’s done,” Steve stepped aside at this.

You shrugged a bit and nodded, then took his place at the sink to demonstrate how exactly to steam your face. After observing you for a few minutes, Steve motioned for you to move, and as you did, he made sure to give you a little ass squeeze, gaining him a side eye from you as a response.

“Just put your head right…. there,” you gently pushed his head down, then once his head was in the proper position, you pressed the button that turned the machine on.

“This feels kinda weird. It’s like, tickling me,” he mumbled into the machine while you reached into your medicine cabinet to grab a peel off face mask. Steve began to move his face back, but you shook your head and tutted.

“I mean, that’s kind of the point. Your pores need this. So keep that head down, big boy,” you giggled, beginning to apply the charcoal goop to your face while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Do they, though?”

“Yes! Those poor cells have probably been through hell and back with all of that fighting and… avenging you do.”

“You’re lucky that I love you. But know that I expect something in return for this hard work.”

You lovingly scoffed at this, but were pleased that Steve had found a reason to finally stop complaining.

Once a decent amount of time passed, Steve lifted his face and used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away some of the dampness.

“Here,” you said softly, grabbing a towel, and softly patting his face with it. “Now the fun part,” you began to apply the facemask to Steve’s face, and he seemed to have no complaints.

“Hey, this feels pretty nice!” He exclaimed.

“Unless you want me to get this all over your beard, I suggest you move your face a little less,” you commented while putting the last of the mask on his left cheek.

He opened his mouth to respond, but decided it wasn’t exactly worth the risk of getting a strange substance in his sensitive facial hair. You finished up putting on the mask, then rinsed your hands in the sink while Steve checked his face out. “Ooo, I can feel it exfoliating already. Are you tingling too?”

You smiled fondly at him, then shook your head and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Since you were such a good sport, I think you deserve a little treat.” You all but dragged him out of the ensuite, grabbing a fresh towel on your way out, and setting it down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demanded. “Then lay on the bed face down. Ass up. I’ll be back in a minute.” You winked suggestively at him, then went back into your bathroom to search for the lavender scented body oil hiding in a cabinet.

When you arrived back in the bedroom, you were not disappointed by the sight of Steve with his sculpted back and perky ass out. You allowed yourself a moment to check him out before you spoke. “Hey honey…” you drawled out in a faux sultry tone. “A little birdy told me that you’ve got some sore muscles from all that crime fighting you’re doing…” You ran your hand up and down Steve’s back, and you felt his back heave as he attempted to hold back his laughter.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked, not even trying to hide his chortling.

“Shhh, don’t think. Just let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions,” you poured a bit of the oil in your hands, warmed it up, then placed your hands on his back. Steve involuntarily let out a full body shudder, and you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself with satisfaction. “Seriously though, try to relax,” you began to knead his upper back.

Steve let out a shaky sigh, and relaxed into your soft mattress. Although the tone of the massage started as a joke, he was feeling more relaxed by the second. Then those seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then… hours? Maybe even days. The point is, Steve fell asleep. Then woke up to the familiar tone of a phone alarm, and a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Hey, you can sleep later. It’s time to take off our masks.” You reminded him. “Meet me in the bathroom, but get somewhat decent first.” You gave a little squeeze to his shoulder before walking off.

Once Steve met you in the bathroom, he made a beeline to the toilet and sat down on top of the lid. “Will you take it off for me? I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you,” you teased, referencing his words from earlier before you leaned down to his level. You picked at a piece of the mask on his forehead, and began to peel it back, watching Steve screw his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ow, what the fuck, Y/N,” he whined, giving you a little pout.

“I’m sorry. Just think of how fresh your skin will be after this, though. You’ll look so dewy, people will think you just came out of the ice.” You moved to remove the piece on his nose, and gained a similar response.

“Ouch! Double ouch. That was way too soon. Why can’t you be nice to me while you’re peeling off my face?” Steve looked deep into your soul while you peeled around the rest of his face, and you couldn’t help but internally melt a little.

“I only tease because I care. And I’m pulling your skin off because I care even more,” you finished up pulling the last of the mask off, then pressed the back of your hand up to some red parts of his face. “All done. You look like a whole new man, Stevie.”

You stepped back so he could stand up and look at himself in the mirror, and he rotated his face back and forth so he could examine himself.

“You’re so right, Y/N. Stark and the government will never catch me when I look like this,” he teased.

“I’m just a miracle worker, I guess.”

“Well is this miracle worker ready to head to bed? All this self care has been fun and all, but…”

“Say less,” you grabbed Steve’s hand once again, and paraded him out to your bedroom, before flopping on the bed theatrically, and grinning when Steve followed suit.

You rolled on top of your starfished fiancé, and kissed him passionately, threading your fingers through his long, sandy hair and sighing contentedly. He turned his head slightly for breath, then began to speak again.

“What I was saying was,” he said breathlessly, “All of this self care has been fun and all, but now I think it’s time that I show you how I unwind.”

[overly-b]

Say It Again - JJ Maybank

In which JJ questions if he is deserving of you and your love. 

Warnings: swearing, sad JJ, fluff, awful editing don’t come for me

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops) 

Author's note: this is my first time writing in so long, be gentle with me friends. I know that a lot of people have done similar prompts of JJ feeling undeserving of love and the reader helps him through it, so this is a little bit unoriginal but, this is my take on it. 

Bold italics is a flash back. 

Thank you to @maybe-maybanks​ to the late night inspiration!

not my gif

As you, Kie and Pope approached the yard of the chateau, it became undeniably clear that JJ had gone off the rails with extravagant spending since you had seen him last. 

“What did you do JJ?” Pope questions the boy sitting in the hot tub. Looking at you through his sunglasses, he smirks. 

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now” He ignores Pope. “Y’all, should get in here immediately, you hear me?” His sentence slurs slightly. “Salud!” He toasts his plastic champagne flute in the air, but opts to take a swig from the bottle in his other hand. 

JJ scans the faces of his three friends, eyes lingering at yours a moment longer than Kie and Popes. 

You see, just days ago, after getting arrested, then beaten by his father, JJ found you, and poured his heart out, to find that you shared his feelings, and the two of you started seeing each other in secret. 

Being that it was a secret, the two of you had yet to put any kind of label on it, but you loved that blonde boy to the ends of the earth, despite what had happened earlier that day. 

“You know what, that's exactly what I’m gonna do. Go off, by myself.”  

You watched as JJ began walking away. Pope attempted to stop him, but Sarah and John B had halted his efforts. You stood silently fuming at the actions of the boy you had such strong feelings for. How could he be doing something like this? This wasn’t the JJ you knew, had been friends with for years, and were now in love with. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you had loved him for years prior. 

“JJ!” You seethed, shaking off John B’s attempts to hold you back from running after him. He was already a good distance away from the group, he probably couldn’t even hear you yelling, so you started speed walking. It soon became apparent that he was simply ignoring you. 

“JJ!” You were merely twenty feet from him, screaming at his back. “JJ stop!” His strides continued. 

“You were real quiet back there princess, finally decide to comment?” You stepped in front of him, shoving his shoulders to force his walk to a stop. “What the fuck Y/N!” 

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! What has gotten into you right now JJ what are you doing?” 

“Nothing has gotten into me Y/N I’m simply paying back what I owe.” He states, trying to walk past you. 

“By stealing the money from the drug dealer that just jumped us?” Your brows raise as you interrogate him. 

“He jumped us, he has this coming.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, succeeding in getting past you, as you stand shocked by his words. 

“JJ you and I both know that you’re not that goddamned stupid.” His steps slow, he stands still. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? JJ I know that you owe money because of Pope but this isn’t right! You’re better than this-” 

“Am I?” He turns on his heels to face you again, this time squaring his shoulders to be purposeful in standing tall over you. Him standing over you made you feel small in comparison to the raging blond. “Am I better than this?” He repeats his question. 

“JJ what are you-” 

“Because I’m starting to think that you, and your high standards, and your perfect life, only think that I am better than this because you want me to be better than this.” 

You knew what he was referring to. You were by no means a kook, but your family was financially stable enough to afford a nice house, you had your own car, and if you wanted, you could afford to go to college on the mainland. Your life was unlike most lives on the cut, but JJ knew that your life was far from perfect. 

“What the hell-” 

“And that if we’re gonna be together,  you need me to be better than this so that I can fit in with your life.” You had no idea what he meant. Your life was on the cut, with the Pouges, with him, and the difference of financial well beings of your familys never changed that before, so why was it now? 

“What the fuck JJ stop-” 

“Well you know what Y/N! I’m not better than this, this is who I am! I get into fights, I steal, I have a criminal record, when I get hit, I hit back this is who I am!” 

“We both know that stealing twenty five thousand dollars from a drug dealer is never going to make anything better.” You attempt to reason with him. “This isn’t hitting back this is loading the gun that's already in your face!” 

“Y/N I have to!” He spits. “I know you could never understand being in so much debt but this is my only option.” His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He looks down to his boots before continuing. “So I’m sorry that I’m not what you pictured as a boyfriend, but this is what I do Y/N. Maybe you trying to fight it means you deserve better than me.” 

And just like that, it was clear that he was more mad with himself then he was with you. However, everything that he said was uncalled for, and nasty, and he had no right. You watch as he storms away, even more tense than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this affects your newfound relationship. You blink away the water from your eyes, and do your best to compose yourself as you slowly wander back to your friends. 

“How much did this cost?” Pope asks. Your head was spinning as he listed all of the things that he had purchased since he left you standing in the woods. 

“Uh, well. With the generator, the petrol, and, oh, hey, express delivery,” You knew the answer before he even had time to speak. “Pretty much all of it, yeah.” 

“All of it?” Pope exclaims. 

“Oh my god” You whisper, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead with your palm. 

“Yeah all of it.” 

“You spent all the money in one day?” “Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” He confidently explains. “But, I mean like come on guys, look at this!”  The tone in his voice told you that he was holding back, it was alway his biggest tell when he would hold back his feelings. “Finest in jet based massage therapy, that's what they told me.” 

The three of you are left speechless. 

“Kie what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ still could not bring himself to look you in the eyes for more than a moment. “Come on, all this scrimping’ and scraping’” you notice his voice falter again. “I mean like, guys, we, you only live once. Right?” JJ finally locks eyes with you, and he reacts spastically, your dreaded look having the gravest effect on him.  

“Y/N, stop, why are you looking at me like that?” He knew full well, but he was trying too hard not to show it. “I know that you’re mad about earlier okay, but, everything is fine now!” His voice was louder now, concealing the breakdown you knew was coming, sooner or later, here with the three of you or somewhere else. “Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass come on.” He smiles, waving you to join him. 

“The what?” Kie furrows her brows. 

“The Cat’s Ass.” JJ smugly replies, proud of himself. “That's what I named her. Oh hey yo, I almost forgot,” JJ leans forward, pressing a button that makes water spray across the tub, and even more colorful lights flash in front of him. “Huh! Yeah that's right, disco mode, thats right baby!” His eyes scan yours, noticing that they were clouding with tears. He quickly looks away from you, not wanting to see the damage that he had done, and was still doing. 

“JJ,” Your voice is low and hushed as you blink back tears. 

“Are you kidding me?” Popes harsh voice overpowers yours, cutting off you and your tears. “You could have paid for restitution!” 

“Or literally given it to any charity” Kie fumes at the sight before her. 

“Guys,” You mutter, wanting them to stop being so hard on the broken boy you secretly called yours. You were mad too, if not more than Pope and Kie due to your argument. However, you could see straight through the smug grins and happy fasad that JJ was trying to project. He was hurting, and you knew it wasn’t just about the fight the two of you shared. 

“Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!” 

“Guys!” You spoke up louder this time, only to be cut off by JJ. 

“Okay well you know I didn’t do that!” As JJ’s swimsuit clad body surfaces from the hot water, you are confronted with what you knew would be there, and the tears pour from your eyes. “I got a hot tub!” JJ shakes in what appears to be anger, but you know it isn't anger he's reeling from. “For my friends,” 

Kie and Pope gape at JJ’s bruised abdomen and instantly connect the dots as to who is responsible. 

“I bought a hot tub for my friends.” He repeats. “You know what, no, you know what, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.” 

“JJ what the hell-” Kie gasps.

“I got this for you! Guys look what I did for you! Alright?” JJ spins and gestures to everything he bought. “Look at this!” When he turns back, he finds that you were no longer holding back the tears your eyes once held. 

“Y/N stop being emotional don’t, don’t cry okay? I know that I hurt you before,” His voice fails him as he recalls the words that he said to you. “But I did this for you,” He hangs his head, he knows how bad he fucked up, and it was hitting him all at once that this was not the way that he needed to make things right. This was not the way back to you, and the high of his twenty five thousand dollar spending spree was dissapating at his realisation, and at the sight of you before him. 

“I mean, it’s sweet right?” JJ hadn't even realized that as he began talking, you had climbed into the hot tub. He looks into your eyes for a moment as you stand before him, and lets out a sob as you gently wrap your arms around him. His forehead falls to your shoulder, and  all of his pent up energy released in the form of tears and heaves. 

“I’m sorry. Baby I’m so sorry.” He whimpers to you, only for you to shush him tenderly. Kie and Pope share a confused glance at the nickname. “I couldn’t do it.” You rub his hair and hold him close as he convulses. “I can’t take it anymore!” JJ wails, your tears land on his shoulders, and his tears land on yours. “I was gonna kill him!” 

Kie is next to join you, jumping into the steaming water and embracing the both of you. Pope follows. 

“I just want to do the right thing.” 

“Shh, JJ, I know. I know” You coo him, trying to calm his weeping. 

After minutes of holding him, Kie announces that she has to head home, and Pope offers to drive her. JJ rests in a nearly catatonic state in your arms, no doubt exhausted and knowing JJ, not ready to face the fact that he just broke down in front of his friends. 

The pair leaves bidding reassuring words to JJ, and a few more hugs. 

You are left in the hot tub, holding the blond boy as he clutches onto you. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his breaths were rapid and heavy as he was shaken, the events of the day had caught up to him in the form of you and your tears. He begins to spew soft “I’m sorry”s and other apologises, but his panic makes him stutter and his sentences start to lack direction. 

You shush him and direct the boy to listen to your heartbeat, trying your best to bring his shattered thoughts back to earth. 

“JJ, we should get out of the hottub.” You tell him, to which he simply sniffles and nods, unsure of how to speak to you after the horrible things he said to you, and his inability to form a proper apology. He knew that you were nothing like he had depicted, yet he said what he said, and there was no taking it back. 

His skin was red from the overheated water, and it itched with chlorine, so as the two of you entered the chateau, you started the shower. 

“You should rinse off the chlorine.” You told him, not sure of how to speak to him either. He followed your order and stripped of his bathing suit. You were able to track down clothes for him to sleep in, and as you waltzed back into the bathroom, you decided you couldn’t leave him alone in the shower.  

Taking off your soaked clothes quickly, you slip into the shower to find JJ standing still under the water. You snake your arms around his torso, careful of the bruises pressing your chest to his back. His hands find yours he holds them tight. You place a kiss on his spine, then rest your head where your lips touched. 

“I’m so sorry” He croaked, his voice was tired, worn out from the day. 

“JJ-” 

“No stop Y/N” He turns around to face you, grabbing your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have never said any of those things about you, none of them were true, it's just that, its,” He stumbles on his words. You rub his back to ground him again, he takes a deep breath. “It's just that you do deserve better than me.” 

“JJ please-” He doesn’t let you continue. 

“No you do, Y/N you do. You deserve so much better than me, than this life, than what I can give you. You don’t deserve some, broken kid that's never getting off the cut, you don’t deserve, to, have to watch as I steal money from drug dealers, you don’t deserve any of the shit that I know that I put you through you just, you deserve better, better than someone who doesn’t come close to deserving you.” 

The tears streaming down both of your faces mix with the water coming from the shower and you have no idea how to make his saddening speech stop. 

“JJ” You sob, he pauses. “You deserve so much more, than what your life has given you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved JJ, you deserve everything that you want, why can’t you see that?” 

And instantly you feel stupid for asking. JJ’s eyes wander and find the bruises littering his body, answering your question. You stifle another sob as your eyes graze his battered skin. 

“Listen to me.” You demand his attention. “You are not worthless.” His eyes divert from yours as he realises what you’re referring to. “JJ look at me,” After a moment or two, his gaze wearily finds yours. “You are not worthless, you are worthy of love, and affection, and someone who takes care of you, and not only are you worthy but you deserve it too. Do you hear me?” 

JJ swallows thickly, nodding in acceptance of your beautiful words. He embraces you tightly, having no words of his own. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel worthy of the good that was before him. 

He was hesitant to think that he deserved you. To him, no one was good enough to actually deserve you, especially not him. However your speech made him open to the idea that maybe he was at least worthy of your love. 

Your love. 

You both realised in the same moment that the word was shared between you. You had never shared the faithful declaration of love to each other since you had been together romantically, and yet now you had mentioned love twice in the span of thirty seconds. JJ smiled as he held you. You loved him, and this was one of the ways that you showed it. 

“Let's get the chlorine out of your hair J.” 

He let you massage his scalp with the shampoo that he's seen you use before to get pool chemicals out of your hair. He didn’t really know what it did or how it was different from other shampoos but, it smelled like you and he loved getting his head rubbed. His breathing was still shaky, but he finally felt some of his anxiety from the day wearing off. Fighting with you was something he never wanted to do again. Fighting with his dad was something he knew he would have to do the next time he went home. He elected to ignore those thoughts, as your fingers worked magic on his hair, seemingly drawing all of the negative ideas out of his head along with the chlorine. 

As JJ rinsed his hair of soap, he noticed you reaching for the bottle again, no doubt to wash your own hair. He holds out his hand, wordlessly asking if he could wash your hair for you, like you had done for him. This makes you grin as you hand him the bottle. JJ then realises that he doesn’t really know how to do what you did for him. That kind of small, soft, intimate touching was foreign to him. 

He squeezes way too much shampoo into his hand, but you pay that no mind. He starts slow, trying to remember the way your fingers moved on his scalp, but in the end knowing that he just wasn’t good at giving head massages. 

“I used way too much.” He states, watching as suds continue to produce from your locks.  

“It’s okay.” You hum watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. “I set out clothes for you when you’re ready, I’m probably gonna be another minute” You tell him, referring to the other bottles you had in the shower that you still had to use. 

“Okay, thank you” He kisses you as he exits the shower. You finish up quickly, wanting to be next to him, and hoping that his thoughts as he sits alone don’t carry him away like they had before. 

You find that he left his tee shirt for you, like he had on nights before. You wear the shirt that smelled of him along with a pair of comfortable running shorts and head to the spare bedroom of the chateau that JJ called his most nights. 

You spot JJ sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You slowly and carefully climb onto his lap, straddling him and holding his head close to your chest. You notice anxiety still radiating off of him. 

“Hey,” You start softly. “It’s okay, everythings okay-” 

“I love you” He states bluntly as he picks up his head from your chest. 

“What?” You stumble, surprised at his outburst. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you, like, publically, or whatever. I wanna tell the Pouges and-” before he starts rambling, you stop him. 

“I love you too JJ.” This pauses him. 

“Say it again.” 

You giggle, but inhale, knowing that he needs to hear it. 

“JJ.” You start. “I love you.” 

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, eyes watering for the millionth time. 

“I still don’t think that I deserve this.” He admits, looking into your eyes with his crystal clear blue ones. 

“You do.” You push his hair back from his face. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you do.” 

He was hesitant to accept everything that you had said to him that day, but he never doubted that you would give him your all. This was all he needed to know before he allowed himself fully over to you, kissing you with more desperation and love than ever before. 

“I love you so much.” You muttered into his lips, and from that day on, you would say it again and again, as many times as he needed to hear it. A constant reminder to him that he was deserving and worthy of good, of love, and of you.

Taglist:  @maybe-maybanks​  @myrandom-fandomlife​