#and he might stay for dinner maybe which could be fun or could be really embarrassing for me

[sunnie-angel]

Sweetheart

inspired by @sanguineterrain’s hc about virgin! jason which truly has not left my mind since i read it.

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.6k

tags: kissing, masturbation, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, creampie, overstimulation

Jason Todd’s just so goddamn sensitive, nerves set on a hair trigger, all the time. Call it a side effect of death or a fun little bonus from resurrection. Wherever it came from, it’s just part of his life now. And, see, normally it’s not a problem. In fact, it probably makes him better at this whole crime lord business. The slightest change in the airflow of a room tipping him off to an unseen assailant, the tremors traveling up the balls of his feet signalling an approaching vehicle, palm wrapped around a throat able to read a lie from a racing pulse. He’s adaptable like that, turning something that might have overwhelmed him into a weapon. It’s really not a problem.

Just like it’s not a problem that he’s never really been in love before. Between dying, then not dying, and an abrupt and burgeoning career in crime, well, dating hasn’t been very high on his list of priorities. It’s fine! So maybe he fucks his fist after a long night of patrol and wishes it were someone he was coming home to. He’s got more pressing things to worry about, important things. Red Hood things. His half-hidden fantasies and dog-eared classic romances can stay hidden under his bed forever, for all he cares.

He cares. Did he say he didn’t care? Well obviously that was a big fat lie. Jason nearly mows you down running across the park and the minute his hands close around your arms to steady you, he’s a goner. Heart eyes and tweety birds, the whole nine yards. Being in love with you’s the easiest thing Jason’s ever done. Maybe his hands shake a little more than they should the first time you ask him to dinner. Maybe he blurs the line between creepy and sweet by showing up at your doorstep with flowers less than 12 hours after your first date. He’s just new at this, that’s all. First time jitters.

There’s a lot of firsts, when it comes to you. The first time you hold his hand, he feels the the tips of his ears go hot. You kiss him on the cheek and he could swear NASA can see the colour of his cheeks from space. The very first time he kisses you – goodnight at your doorstep, meant to be chaste and brief – he’s half-hard in his pants the second he feels your breath on his skin. It’s a miracle, a sheer testament to all his will and training, that he doesn’t come in his pants on your doorstep at the taste of you.

Okay, so there’s some kinks he has to work out. He’s told you that he’s inexperienced. Well, more than inexperienced. A virgin, if you want to get all technical about it. You had smiled and told him the two of you could take it slow if he wanted. Which he didn’t. Want it slow, that is. That leads him to a new and persistent obsession with making it good for you, despite his current track record. Before you, the goal of getting off was efficiency. Hand slick and a few harsh tugs enough to have him spilling into a tissue. But that was before. He’s got a goal and a plan and Jason’s always been good with an objective.

He settles in and makes a mental note to get more lube. Gets his hand firm around his shaft because he knows, just knows, that the minute he starts teasing the head of his cock it’ll be over. Gives himself a few looser strokes just to get used to the sensation, gun callous catching on his foreskin and sending a frisson of pleasure up his spine. He watches his stomach muscles ripple and clench in retaliation. Begins to work his hand a little faster, adding a rough twist to each stroke that has him panting for breath. Pre starts beading at the tip of his cock and he swipes an errant thumb at it. He bucks and nearly moans at the sensation, the rough heated pad of his thumb setting his nerves on fire. Throws his head back eyes closed as his he increases the pace, lost to the burning heat building in his belly. He pictures your face smiling up at him on a particularly tight swipe over the head of his cock and comes harder than he ever has before, hot spurts decorating his stomach. His stopwatch reads 0:1:37. With a grunt, he reaches for his cock again.

By the time morning comes, far too soon and far too bright, Jason’s managed to increase his time. Not by much, but hey, that’s still progress in his book. He’s also discovered two new things about himself: 1) with just the right pressure he can stay hard between orgasms (hooray for illegal and mystical stimulant baths!), and 2) the image of you is more than enough to shove him over the edge, every single time. Fact number two may be a problem. ‘Cause if just the thought of you has him creaming in his pants like a pimply teen in a stiff breeze, having you under him in the flesh might actually kill him. It’s okay though, he’ll have more time to practice before you two get anywhere close to that. Or not.

The two of you are lying on your bed kissing, the kind of slow, lazy make-out that wouldn’t really be going anywhere only Jason’s got your thigh rubbing up in between his legs and that same hair trigger sensitivity. He swears he can almost feel the soft heat of your skin through the rough drag of denim. Your plush lips open wider and he surges forward, eager to notch himself closer. He’s clumsy like this, limbs too big and uncoordinated with you under him. His hips start undulating of their own accord at the extra friction, and you slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans to urge him on. It’s good, so good, God why did he never realize it could be this good? The sensation of you below him, warm and solid, and the rough-pressure-heat on his cock is all it takes. You swallow his moan as he comes in his pants, wet splotch blooming darkly. His hands tighten around you. Jason pants and moans into your throat, hips weakly grinding his cock against you through it. Red-faced, it takes him longer than it should to realize that you’re cooing at him.

“–good, sweetheart? You were so good for me, taking what you needed.”

Shame and embarrassment light him up, battling with the litany of sweetheart, sweetheart, she called me sweetheart currently striking him dumb. He buries his face into your neck, can feel the temperature difference between his flaming cheeks and your skin.

“’M sorry,” he says meekly, “I didn’t mean to come so fast. Swear it. I’ll do better next time.” Worry curls in his stomach, faint echoes of embarrassment about leaving you unsatisfied. Can’t bear to look you in the eye, feeling stripped back and vulnerable as he is. His hips are still working against yours, grinding the sensitive head of his cock into his damp boxers. You laugh.

“What’re you talking about, Jay? You were perfect, so perfect for me sweetheart.” And Jason wants to crawl out of his skin because ‘perfect’ is not a word that gets applied to him often. Not one that he thought applied now, coming in his pants so quickly, before he’s even made you feel good. Ignoring the stubborn prickling at the backs of his eyes and the warmth quickly spreading down his chest, he kisses the sweet column of your throat.

“Wanna return the favour,” he whines, licking up the salt of your skin. Your grip tightens in his hair.

“Yeah? You gonna be good for me again?” you tease, breathless. One of your hands grips his own, glides it down to the elasticized waistband of your underwear.

Jason’s pretty sure he’s been electrified when he feels just how wet you are. He’s also pretty sure this is the closest he’s ever gotten to a pretty girl’s underwear too. Thick fingers glide easily between your folds. You’re hotter than he expected, slick collecting in his palm. His index finger catches on your entrance, thumb hunting for your clit. He knows he’s found it when you sigh into his ear, and he grins. Maybe he’s not so bad at this whole sex thing after all. Slowly, he starts to spear you open on one thick finger and chokes. Jason’s never felt anything so fucking tight. He groans into your collarbone. Your walls tighten up around him at the vibration and it goes straight to his cock. If he hadn’t just come, he’d be making a mess in his pants right now. Again. The thought of how good your slick, wet, heat would feel squeezing around his cock vice-like has him lightheaded.

“Can I– please can I?” he begs, delirious with how badly he wants this.

“Gotta use your words, sweetheart,” you say breathlessly, voice hitching as he fucks his finger back into you. “Need to ask for what you want.”

“Please, please, can I fuck you? Want it. Want it so bad,” Jason whines. He can taste the want, sparks dancing on his tongue, blood rushing in his ears. His whole body aches with it.

“S’all you had to say, sweetheart.” A hand grips him through his damp jeans and he bucks into the touch, a writhing mass of nerves and need. “You gonna take care of me? Huh?” The zipper inches down and he almost sobs. “Gonna be good to me, sweetheart?” All the air rips out of his lungs at the burning brand of a palm finally touching his spent cock. 

Jason doesn’t recognize his own voice, high and reedy, babbling “I promise, I promise, I promise.” He’s gasping, greedy, mouth open and searching blindly for yours. 

He whimpers – the Red Hood honest to god whimpers – when you pull away. His brain starts to come back online when you start tugging at the hem of his shirt and he almost face plants into the mattress in his eagerness to get his pants and shirt off at the same time. You laugh as your bra hits the floor somewhere to the side of the bed and pull him down for another kiss, a soft nip at the swell of his bottom lip that has him trailing after you. Your legs open to cradle his hips and Jason figures this must be the next best thing to paradise. He shudders at the pressure of his cock trapped between your bellies.

“Now you’re gonna give me all–” you give a slow roll of your hips that has Jason’s vision going blurry at the feeling of every inch of him trapped between you, “– of that. You’re gonna be this–” another slow, filthy roll that has him cotton-mouthed, “–deep in me, sweetheart, and you’re gonna keep fucking me until I tell you to stop.” Your hand at the nape of his neck pulls his hair back until he’s looking right in the eye. It’s a hungry, dark stare that greets him and Jason thinks that if this is what it’s like to be eaten alive, he’ll die a happy man (if you’ll let him).

He gets so distracted by the wicked grin on your face that he barely notices the hand guiding his cock to your entrance until the head is pushing into your burning heat. His mouth snaps shut and his jaw clenches, desperate to keep it together. Your legs lock around him, urging him forward. Inch by inch he slowly thrusts his way into you, sanity hanging on by a thread as he fights the urge to just fuck into your tight cunt. Finally, finally, his hips meet yours, cock fully sheathed inside of another person for the first time. He pants open mouthed into the side of your neck, trying so hard to be good for you. 

“Not a virgin now, are you sweetheart?” you whisper, hand stroking through his sweaty curls. “Now move.”

Like a shot from one of his beloved .45s, Jason starts pistoning into you, pulling his cock out until it’s almost slipping out and hammering right back in to the hilt. You’re tight, so fucking tight that he doesn’t know how he’s ever gonna go back to his fist after this. His rhythm’s sloppy, cunt drunk and chasing his next high but he can’t make himself stop. Sweat beads on his chest and tears dot his lashes. He howls as you cant your hips up and drag a hand across his chest, nails catching on a nipple. The slippery clutch of your cunt burns away all his good intentions, just a mewling, writhing creature desperate to feel good. The burning heat in his gut is building, his arms trembling from exertion. Its too soon, too soon for him to be ready to come again but the high in his veins and the tenseness in his belly are screaming otherwise.

It’s not fair, he’s– he’s trying so hard and it’s not fair because you haven’t even come once and here he is being greedy and about to come again. It’s not fair. There’s real tears of frustration beading up in his eyes now, face and body flushed red, sticky sweet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryI’msorryM’sorry,” he keens, high and hysterical as he comes, hot pulsing spurts deep inside you. He’s not– it’s not stopping God why is it not stopping? He’s never come for this long but it just won’t stop and he can’t move, not with your ankles locked so tight around his hips. Jason’s face burns with the shame, eyes screwed up tight and trying not to tear the sheets fisted in his hands. A hand cups his face, runs a thumb lovingly over a cheekbone until he screws up the courage to crack open his eyes a smidge.

“There’s my sweetheart. Doing so well for me.” A finger brushes away the tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eye. “Felt so good you just couldn’t stop yourself from coming again, hmm?” you clench down on his cock and the punched out sound that leaves him has Jason shying away in embarrassment. “None of that now. Not when you’re being so good.” You bite down on the tendon in his neck, grinning around your teeth as his whole body shudders, before laving a broad tongue over it. “You’ve still gotta job to do, don’t you? Gotta fuck all of your cum into me, gotta keep it where it belongs.”

Jelly limbed, its easy to push Jason onto his back. His cock never even leaves your cunt. Gravity does all the work as you spear yourself open on him. He moans, high punched out little things, cock bullying even deeper into you. Jason’s so sensitive now, riding the edge of pleasure-pain like a knife. He feels flayed open, nerves raw, as you grind and clench yourself up and down his shaft. You pull one of his palms to your breast, teach him how to squeeze it, the way you like having your nipples pinched and rolled. You ride him and every time you pull off of him Jason holds his breath until you’re fucked back down onto him. He’s so overstimulated it hurts, teeth grinding as you continue to fuck him for your pleasure, like he’s just the guy that happens to be attached to a fat dick.

“I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When James stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date, unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst with a happy ending, Reader overthinking

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x fem!reader

♡ ꜱᴏɴɢ: You are in love (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

The day you asked James out had been one of those moments where your heart felt like it might jump right out of your chest. You were prepared for rejection, especially since you'd spent years by his side, watching him pine after Lily. But recently… something had shifted. He wasn’t staring at her in class anymore, his jokes about her had ceased, and most of all, he was spending more time with you—closer, warmer. Maybe you were imagining things, but you couldn’t shake the thought that he might finally be over her.

So, you'd asked him out. With shaking hands and a half-terrified smile, you’d blurted out an offer for dinner. And to your utter shock, James had blinked, cheeks flushing a light pink, and mumbled, “Uh… okay, yeah, I’d love that.”

And now, here you were, sitting across from him at a small booth in The Three Broomsticks, tapping your fingers nervously against the wooden table. James was quiet. Too quiet.

You shifted in your seat, trying to make conversation. “So, um… have you finished that Transfiguration essay McGonagall assigned?” It was a safe topic, schoolwork—something you two could always talk about. But his response was short.

“Yeah. Finished it last night.”

“Oh. Cool,” you replied, your voice trailing off.

You tapped your fingers again. James Potter never stopped talking. Silence wasn’t his thing. Which meant that he was uncomfortable. Which meant that this was a disaster. A pit formed in your stomach as you tried again.

“What about Quidditch? You excited for the next match?”

“Yeah, should be fun,” he answered, eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away. He was fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he occasionally glanced outside as if he wanted to escape.

Panic bloomed in your chest. He didn’t want to be here. You were terrible. He didn’t like you back. He was probably still hung up on Lily, and he was just too nice to say no.

“I—um—James…” Your voice cracked as you reached for your purse, fingers trembling. You stood up abruptly, trying to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of your eyes. “You know what? It’s fine. You didn’t have to agree to this out of pity. I get it. I mean, I know you’re still… still hung up on Lily, and I probably just made this really weird, and—”

“Wait, what?” James shot up from his seat, nearly knocking over his butterbeer in the process. His eyes were wide, panicked. “No, no, no, wait, you’ve got it all wrong!”

But you were already rambling, words spilling out in a jumble as you tried to explain how you understood, how he didn’t have to pretend. “It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything. I know you’re probably—”

“Stop! Please, just—just sit down for a second, okay?” James’s voice was more urgent now, his hands reaching out as if to physically stop you from leaving.

You hesitated, your heart racing, before you reluctantly sat back down. “James, it’s okay, really, I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, softer. His hazel eyes were full of something—something raw and nervous and real. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not… I’m not hung up on Lily.”

Your heart stumbled at his words. “What?”

“I don’t like Lily anymore,” James said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “I mean, I did for a long time, but that’s… that’s not where my head is now. I like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and confusing. “You… like me?”

He nodded, his cheeks turning pink again as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah. And that’s why I’ve been so nervous. I don’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to mess this up, and now I’ve gone and made you think I don’t want to be here, which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

You stared at him, processing his confession. “You’re… nervous?”

James let out a huff of laughter, looking a little self-deprecating. “Yeah. I’m never nervous. Except… except with you. Because this actually matters to me. You matter to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the earlier hurt and insecurity slowly melting away as his words sank in. He was nervous because he liked you. Not because he didn’t want to be here.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a bit ridiculous for jumping to conclusions. “I thought you were… you know, regretting this.”

James shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I just… don’t really know how to do this, apparently.”

A small laugh escaped your lips despite the lingering tears. “You’re usually so smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you make me lose all my smoothness,” he said, a lopsided grin finally breaking across his face, though it was still tinged with nervousness.

You felt your shoulders relax for the first time that evening. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, James. We’ve been best friends for years.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with a softness that made your heart ache in the best way. “But this is different.”

It was different. And maybe that was okay.

“Maybe this whole diner thing isn’t for us,” James suggested after a beat of silence. “Too fancy, don’t you think?”

You chuckled, the sound a little watery. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. I talk better when I’m moving.”

You smiled, taking his hand, and let him pull you up. As you walked out of the diner and into the cool night air, the tension between you melted away. James started talking—about everything and nothing, rambling on like his usual self. And with each word, you felt the warmth between you grow, the awkwardness fading into something much more familiar, much more comforting.

And as you walked side by side, listening to James fill the quiet with his endless chatter, you couldn’t help but smile. This was what you’d always wanted. Him, you, and all the things that came with it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my gf's son not to call me dad?

I (22M) have been dating my gf (24F) for 4 years now. She has a 7 year old whose dad isn't in the picture anymore - he hasn't been since the kid was born. My gf says he was abusive and I think there are some charges against him but as far as I know, nothing was proven. He has other kids too who he does have a relationship with but he doesn't have custody rights with my gf's son so they hasn't been allowed to have a relationship.

My gf and I live together and are both in college. I am going to be a surgeon and she wants to study science but she hasn't decided what to do with it yet. Because we're both busy with that, her son doesn't live with us full time. He stays with her parents during the week. This means that we have to dedicate our weekends to looking after the kid. I didn't really mind this at first but her parents are really pushing for her to look after him during the week now too, which we don't have time for. I hear how that doesn't sound great but the plan has always been that her parents will take care of the kid until she finishes with school. She has classes for 4+ hours from Mon-Thurs, plus she needs to spend a few hours studying every day, then she has labs on Friday for most of the day. I have classes all week for fewer hours each day but next semester I'll probably be doing an internship so I'll have more work to do. Then we pick up her kid on Friday evenings and spend the whole weekend with him. There's hardly any time for us to spend time alone together. I like her son and he's usually fun to have around but both of us are obviously stressed from having no down time so most weekends my gf and her son get into an argument or something and things escalate. I try not to get involved when that happens. Sometimes my gf and I are the ones who end up arguing and in that case, I usually go to my parents house.

Basically, I'm not super involved with the kid. Her parents want us to spend all of our free time on parenting despite originally agreeing that it was better if my gf focused on school. He has a dad who could probably be more involved but my gf and her family don't want him around. I've suggested that maybe it would be a better solution for her son to live with his dad full time, that way she can focus on school and then her career and still have time for herself and for us. I love her but she doesn't really have maternal instincts and she doesn't actually want kids, she has said a lot that she regrets not giving him up for adoption.

Recently, we were out for dinner with my gf's sister and kid, and the kid called me his dad. He's done this a lot and usually I just kind of ignore it, but no one else corrected him this time and I felt like the kid deserved the truth. I asked him then and there not to call me dad because he has a real dad who probably wouldn't like it. He didn't seem upset by it but my gf's sister lost it. She thinks I don't want the kid around and that I'm the reason my gf doesn't spend more time with him. She also thinks this was the first time my gf's son heard about his bio dad. Total conjecture, but she won't hear my side of it. The kid knows I havent been around since he was born so he obviously knows someone else must be his dad. I told my gf I don't think it's fair to let the kid call me dad when he has a real dad out there and she sort of agrees. She told her son not to call me dad anymore and they had a long talk about it. She still doesn't want the real dad involved but that's a whole other battle.

Here's why I think I might be the asshole: I said this to the kid in a moment of annoyance, which probably wasn't the way to bring it up. Like I said, he didn't seem upset by it but I wasn't there for the longer conversation so I don't know exactly. I think he's old enough to be allowed to know about his real dad in a more serious way. It's kind of messed up that he could run into his dad in the street (we live in a pretty small town) and wouldn't know it. I'm not his dad and for the foreseeable future, I won't be responsible for him as a parent because he still lives with his grandparents. I think it's reasonable to say that he shouldn't call me dad. So, AITA?

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

My Heart is Yours

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: extreme fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst? tension? this is just very fluffy because he needs it

Synopsis: It's Simon's birthday and somethings changed between you two...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading part 2 of “The Roommate Series”

You were up earlier than normal two days in a row but this time you had woken up on your own. Usually on the weekends you slept in, enjoying the fact that you didn't have to go to class or do work, dozing in and out of sleep as you listened to your roommate go through his morning before you joined him. However, this weekend was different than most and it was hard for you to want to stay in bed.

For one, Simon was home. You have gone through many weekends without him, so when he was here it was hard for you to justify staying in bed when you wanted to spend time with him. You learned very quickly that you could never take the time spent with him for granted, not when he might be called back into work randomly and then you’d be left alone again. 

Truthfully it was a double edge sword. The more time you spent with him the harder it was to watch him leave but that was the price to pay when you let yourself get attached to a man who disappeared for months.

Another reason was because it was Simon’s birthday.

You were honestly more excited about it than he was. To him, his birthday was just another day but to you it was a day to make things right, to make things better from the vague stories he gave you about the way he grew up.

It was also a chance to have fun with him and to just relax. You didn’t pass up on those opportunities.

You had plans for dinner before you both got drunk off whiskey and any other alcohol you had in your fridge to watch movies. You also still had to make him a cake but more importantly you still had to wrap the gift you had gotten him.

The door to your room was closed but you still glanced at it as if Simon would appear out of thin air before you pulled his gift out from underneath your bed. 

In your hand was a travel sized joke book, one that had the really bad puns and dad jokes in it but it was the only thing that you could think of to get him that he would actually use. Even if you knew a lot about your roommate, he was difficult to shop for because he had everything he already needed and never thought about what he wanted.

“Just tell me something to get you!” You begged as you both walked through the aisles of the grocery store yesterday.

“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged and you huffed. 

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to get you something you won’t like.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

Simon would never tell you but it really didn't matter what you got him for his birthday. He would like whatever you got him because if it was something from you he’d cherish it until he died.

You opened the front of the book to make sure the birthday card you got him was still in there before you heard Simon walk past your room. You somehow had woken up before him and you listened to him shut the door to the bathroom before you let out a short breath.

You put the book back underneath your bed and got dressed. You tried to curb your excitement and instead worked through your head to come up with a plan to get him out of the apartment.

Even though he knew what you had planned you still wanted to act as if it was a surprise.

You left your room once you were dressed and made your way to the bathroom, noting that the door was cracked open for you. It was part of the routine you both had set up when he was home and happened to be in the bathroom when you had to get ready for class.

“Happy birthday!” You swung the door open and stood in the doorway with a grin.

Simon was brushing his teeth but gave you a grunt that sounded like a ‘thank you’. He seemed to have just woken up; his blond hair was tousled from sleep and he stared at you with bleary eyes. He was also still in his pajamas which consisted of just sweatpants since the man was practically a space heater and couldn’t wear a shirt to sleep. 

His entire upper body was covered in scars that you were sure had stories to them. It was uncommon for you to see them but sometimes you got a glimpse which struck something deep within your chest. However, right now you were just happy that he truly didn’t have any new scars. 

There was something strangely domestic about the sight of him brushing his teeth while you stood watching him. It felt like something that was meant to be, something that was natural to the apartment and to you both. It warmed your chest, softening the grin as it settled into you again that he was truly back home.

“I see you slept well.” You said and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Feel any older?”

“Pass.” He grumbled after he spit into the sink and washed out the fluoride with water.

You giggled and watched him begin to wash his face, unbothered by your presence. You were still running through ideas in your head about how to get rid of him for a few hours before you decided to play the safe route.

“What’re your plans today?” You wondered, trying to not sound suspicious.

“Get drunk and watch movies.” He reminded you and you hummed in response.

“You mean you don’t have anything else planned?”

He turned the water off and patted his face dry with a towel, turning to you with a suspicious look in his eyes when he was finished. It only worsened when you gave him a smile and he let out a long sigh from his chest. 

“You want me out of the flat.” He stated and you decided that it was time to be truthful.

“Just for a few hours.” You gave him a sheepish smile when he sent you an annoyed look. “It’d do you good to go out.”

“I went out yesterday.”

A soft huff left your mouth as you watched him hang the towel back up and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You knew that it would’ve been hard to get him out the apartment, he was a homebody who practically confined himself to four walls when he was home. It never bothered you but right now you wished he at least had the motivation to go outside.

“You could go visit your friends?” You suggested even though in your entire time living with him you’d never seen or heard about him having any.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate and you sent him a look.

“At least think about it, geez.”

Simon smiled, it was small but it brightened your mood immensely, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It had gotten longer since he was gone, the longest you had seen it, and he pulled on a few of the strands to test the length. He didn’t look bad with it that long in your opinion but you assumed by the way he was staring at it through the mirror with intense concentration that he wanted it to be a shorter length. 

“I can pay for your haircut.”

“I prefer cutting my own hair.”

You groaned from his difficultness, not annoyed but you had hoped this would go easier. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose to toy with you or if he genuinely didn’t want to leave the apartment. In hindsight, you couldn’t really blame him since he had gotten back yesterday and most likely just wanted to sit around and enjoy not having to be at his job.

Simon made his way over to you and leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes staring down at you with confusion as he crossed his arms. Up this close, it was really hard to deny just how big he was and it took everything in you to not stare super long at him.

He seemed to have gained more muscle since you had last seen him and yet he hadn’t thinned down much either. Whatever he did for his job made him physically fit and you wondered if that was the reason why he always ate so much.

Not that you were complaining.

His eyes softened as you made eye contact and they bounced around your face as he leaned forward ever so slightly, making it so there was only a few inches between the two of you.

You were prepared for him to stare at you for a long time before he spoke.

“Why do you want to surprise me if I know what you’re doing?” He wondered and continued to stare at you as if he could read your mind.

“You don’t know everything.” You teased and his eyebrows knitted together. “Like the gift I got you.”

Simon’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, causing you to bite back a few giggles. He tried to hide his excitement but you could see it in the way his eyes had brightened and his usual serious face had gotten happier just at the mention of a gift. 

It was cute, you couldn’t help but look at him with a warm chest as it was almost like looking at a kid who was just told they’d get ice cream.

“You got me something?” He sounded surprised it made you smile more.

“Mhm.” You nodded and he seemingly held his breath in anticipation. “But you’re not allowed to have it until after we have cake.”

You watched him deflate with slight disappointment before his eyes shot over to your room. You immediately knew what he was thinking about and you sent him a warning look that you hoped would deter him from even daring to search through your room for his gift.

Even if the dinner and the cake wasn’t a surprise, you wanted to keep his present a secret because you were honestly a little worried it wasn’t good enough and you still wanted to have the time to be able to potentially get something different for him.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” You said, trying to get him to forget about the gift, and continued when he looked back at you. “After lunch you leave while I make the cake and then you can come back once I start making dinner.”

Simon thought it over for a moment before he nodded. 

“I’ll help you make dinner.” He added but you shook your head.

“You’re not supposed to help, it’s your birthday.”

“It’s my birthday so I get to do what I want.”

You gasped and stared at him with shock, watching as a triumphant smile stretched across his face. Of course he would figure out a way to use your own arbitrary rules against you for his benefit. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t thought to do it earlier but maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to catch you off guard.

He was smart, too smart to fall for you silly rules and play along with you.

You pursed your lips together as he looked down at you. You pretended to be offended, giving him a fake glare that couldn’t even be mistaken for anger as you fought back a smile.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” You poked him on the chest and watched him tense up slightly before he leaned more into your space.

“I do.”

You scoffed, shaking your head slightly as you placed your hands on your hips. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as amusement twinkled in his eyes. You focused hard on them, knowing that if you didn’t you would be too enticed by the fact that you could smell the fresh mint on his breath that made you dare to think about what it would be like to press a kiss to his lips in this moment. How you could easily take his face into your hands and run your fingers across the blond stubble on his cheeks, tracing every scar that peppered his otherwise clear skin. 

Instead you looked into his dark brown eyes, finding that you were practically swallowed up in the color of bitter coffee and earth. A void of hidden emotions and an exhaustion that seemed to always plague him yet there was comfort within them expanse of darkness. There was warmth that blanketed you as you stared into his eyes, a sense of safety and stability that you couldn’t find anywhere else, only within the confines of the man who stood in front of you.

It was almost too much, too intense to be looking into his eyes like this. Normally you couldn’t do it for longer than a few seconds but doing so now made you feel almost dizzy, like he was taking the air from your lungs for himself.

And yet couldn’t get enough of him. He could be melded inside of you, his entire soul could be mixed with yours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice was shaking slightly. “You can help but just remind yourself that it’s your birthday.”

“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes before he gently pushed you back. “Go. I need to take a shower.”

“You brush your teeth before a shower? Weirdo.”

Simon sent you a look, still with the hint of playfulness, before he shut the door and it was as if you could breathe again. You stared at the door, taking in the moment you just had with him before the shower turning on shook you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at the door one more time before you moved towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.

~

Shooting whiskey has never been easy for you. The brown liquid burned your throat and settled in your chest long enough to give you an unpleasant shiver throughout your entire body. It was hard to keep back the water in your eyes and the cough as you downed a shot, chasing that funny feeling that made the world spin and everything a lot less stressful.

You had your own drink but you couldn’t deny Simon when he offered the last three shots of whiskey to you, finding that he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.

Both of you sat on the couch in front of the tv, some kind of movie that Simon hadn’t seen was playing in the background but it had been quickly abandoned after the last few shots. Instead of watching, both of you were preoccupied with each other, talking about everything that you could. 

Well, you were doing most of the talking in between shots and sips of a mixed drink while Simon listened. He sipped on his second glass of whiskey but would occasionally join you for a shot when he felt like he was behind you with how drunk you already were.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was taking it slow and you weren’t or because he was a heavy drinker, but he definitely knew you were having more fun during his birthday than he was. He was too focused on you to really care anyway. You took up the room, demanding his attention and he happily gave it to you without hesitation or protest.

You took another shot, your vision of the world already spinning but you were having too much fun to really notice, and shivered once more. The effects of the alcohol weren't enough to take the bitter taste away just yet.

A smile pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips and he scoffed, getting your attention as you sent him a look through watery eyes.

“Lightweight.” He teased as he took another sip, completely unbothered.

“Shut up, you’re not even drunk.” You slurred and set the shot glass down on the coffee table. “You’re like a mountain.”

“I’m drunk.”

You gave him a suspicious look, one that was over exaggerated due to how drunk you were but it made him smile more nonetheless. 

That should’ve been enough for you to know that he was drunk, since he didn’t give out big cheesy smiles like you did. His cheeks were dusted pink and his tired eyes hungry just a little bit heavier, a haze over them as he stared at you with a dopey look as if he couldn’t quite understand what you were saying but he hung onto every word. He looked content, there wasn’t an ounce of stress left even in his usual tense shoulders as his body subconsciously leaned towards yours, almost as if he was hovering over you.

You were sure you looked just as drunk as he did, if not more, and yet he looked at you with bright eyes that bounced around your face often.

“You are!” You laughed and he attempted to hide the smile behind his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor that good.”

“Better than you.” He took another sip and you playfully cussed him out.

You ran a hand over your face and glanced around the room, noting that it had gotten dark outside. Your eyebrows knitted together and you wondered how long it had been since you both sat down after dinner to watch movies, thinking that only an hour or two had passed until you checked the time on your phone.

“Shit! We haven’t done cake yet.” You exclaimed when you saw that it was close to midnight.

“So?” Simon raised an eyebrow as you shot up from your spot on the couch.

“You have to have cake on your birthday.”

You tried your best to not stumble into the kitchen, failing at doing so but thankfully you didn’t fall flat on your face. You were extra careful when getting the cake out of the fridge despite the fact that you were in a rush, making sure that when you placed it on the counter to put the candles on, nothing was in the way. 

It was a small cake since you knew that Simon probably would only eat a few slices from it over the week before he was over the sweetness. On top of the icing, almost perfectly written since you were adamant to make it look pretty even though you knew he wouldn’t care, were the words “Happy Birthday Simon”. You placed a few candles around the words, making sure they wouldn’t touch the letters before you carried it into the living room.

You were focused on keeping the cake balanced, not noticing the way Simon’s eyes had softened greatly when you walked into the room and set it in front of him.

“I need your lighter.” You opened your palm urgently.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” Simon protested with a serious look on his face but you waved him off.

“I won’t! Hurry before it turns midnight.”

Simon hesitantly dug his lighter out of his pocket and handed it to you, watching you intently as you lit the candles, making sure that if you burned yourself he would quickly get you to a sink. However you handed him back the lighter without harming yourself and positioned the cake in front of him properly.

You sat down beside him, your knees touching as you looked between him and the cake. A giddy feeling sprung up in your stomach and you wiggled in your spot excitedly watching Simon’s reaction carefully with clasped hands.

He stared down at the cake with soft eyes, the light from the small flames reflecting in them. They weren’t sad, but you noticed that there was a hint of something more melancholic hidden within his eyes that wasn’t there before until he read the writing. He pulled his hands into his lap almost as if he wasn’t sure what he should do before he hesitantly glanced your way.

You gave him a warm smile, one that signified that whatever he was thinking or feeling was okay, hoping that you didn’t go too far.

“Happy birthday, Simon.” You said softly and scooted close enough that now your thighs were touching.

Simon didn’t say anything but he continued to stare at you, eyes a range of emotion as they bounced around your face, stopping for a moment to look at your lips, until you gestured towards the cake.

“Make a wish.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nose before he turned towards the cake and blew out the candles. A small smile pulled at his lips when you cheered and he watched as you stood up from the couch a lot more gracefully this time.

“Want a piece or do I have to eat this all on my own?” You teased and he nodded.

“Not a big one.”

You got plates and quickly cut a small piece out for him and for you. You waited for him to take a bite of it first, almost holding your breath as if this was the very moment that would break your entire ego about your baking skills.

Simon took a small bite of the cake and his eyes shut immediately.

“Fucking hell…” He muttered and your stomach sunk.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked him urgently as you gripped your plate so tight your fingers went sore.

“It’s good, really fucking good what did you put in this?”

Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your chest warm as you watched him eat the piece on his plate faster. You were sure if it was the alcohol making him like the sweetness but as soon as he finished the piece he had he went for another one. 

You smiled to yourself, taking a bit out of the cake on your plate. You hummed at the amazing flavors and felt proud of yourself as you eyed Simon.

“My undying desire to celebrate your birthday.”

“Piss off.”

You laughed, leaning into him enough to where you could hear him chuckle under his breath. The giddy feeling inside of you grew and you didn’t dare ignore it as you found yourself enjoying the closeness that you so rarely got with Simon, pushing yourself into his arm just a little more as you finished your piece of the cake.

Your chest warmed more when he leaned against you as if he liked the contact as well and your head fell to his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your chest as you reveled in his warmth. You noticed that he seemed to have gotten hot due to the alcohol and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, causing your eyes to jump down to the tattoo on his arm.

It was rare that you saw it since he often wore long sleeves and when he didn’t you never got a good look at it. You assumed that he didn’t want you to see it since every time you asked or he noticed you were staring at it, he would cover it up. Now, with the way you were sitting against him, he couldn’t see that you were staring at the ink unless he turned to look at you.

His tattoo was a lot more intricate than you had first thought, especially now as your eyes traced over the details in the ink designs. You knew he had a thing for skulls, since the mask he wore around you was the lower jaw of one, so it didn’t surprise you when you saw the skulls littered within the other designs. What did come as a surprise to you was that most of the tattoo was war imagery.

Guns, dog tags, a tank, and a literal military soldier etched into his skin made it less a coincidence and more a deliberate design. It made your eyebrows knit together and you fought the urge to grab his arm to look closer.

Was he military? The more you thought about it, the more it started to make sense with the evidence that you had. Going away for months, the guns, the paranoia and depressive episodes, the wounds, all of it paired with his tattoo made it seem obvious and yet there was one issue.

If he was military, then why didn’t he tell you?

It made you curious and yet wary of the answer. Truly, you didn’t want to know, not when he was so adamant to keep it from you, as if knowing would be something that you would regret. 

Besides, someone in his family could be military and despite your reservations about them from your limited knowledge, you weren’t going to be upset if he got a tattoo for them in their memory.

Simon seemed to have noticed that you were staring at it and he placed his large hand over it, covering it from your view and snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at you, his eyes the same as always except you could see that serious look in them, the one demanded you to not ask questions.

“You still have that gift for me or do I need to do somethin’ else for it?” He wondered and you smiled.

“Wait here.” You handed him your plate before you got up and rushed to your room.

You grabbed the joke book from under your bed and made sure that the wrapping was intact. You went to walk out of your room but hesitated a pit growing in your stomach as you stared down at the silly birthday wrapping paper.

Were you really about to give a guy who might be military a joke book? Suddenly you felt foolish, as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t have and you debated on whether you should pretend it got damaged to get something different. It would save you the embarrassment of giving him a stupid book but it would probably disappoint him in the process. 

You could unwrap it and give him the card instead, but that would nearly be almost more of a let down than the actual gift.

A huff left you and tapped your fingers against the wrapping paper.

You should’ve just gotten him a generic gift that most men get, like a bottle opener or a pocket knife. At least that way he wouldn’t have been too disappointed.

“Still there?” Simon called out and your heart jumped to your throat.

“Yeah, couldn't find it for a sec.” You lied and took a deep breath before you stepped out of your room. 

If you got this over with then at least you could get him a different one later. You could always tell him it was a gag gift in an attempt to save yourself too much embarrassment but you felt that somehow Simon would see right through your lie.

You walked into the living room, holding the book close to you as if it were something precious and sat down further away from him this time, noticing that he always had pulled his sleeves down. You glanced up at him to see that he had the excited look in his eyes like he had earlier in the morning which made you even more nervous.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.” You prefaced and watched as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re overthinking this.” He tried to assure you with his usual deadpan tone.

“Maybe…just don’t laugh if it’s that bad.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitantly outstretched the gift for him and watched as he gently took it from your hands. You chewed on your lip as you watched him inspect the wrapping on it before he began to tear it off, causing you to grip the couch underneath you. You were practically burning holes into his face when he finally took all of the wrapping off and looked at the cover of the book.

Simon's eyes lit up and it helped calm some of your nerves. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were allowed to have when you’re gone but I got it travel sized.” You explained and he glanced at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You like my jokes that much?” He seemed amused by the idea and when you nodded, he huffed a laugh.

“There’s a card in the front.”

Simon pulled the card out, a simple card with a dinosaur on the front that had “ur old” written on the front, and sent you a quick glare that made you snicker. He opened the card and raised an eyebrow at the twenty pounds that fell onto his lap.

“Nobody likes cards without money.” You shrugged and he picked up the note to inspect it. “Use it to get cigarettes or something pretty.”

“Something pretty.” He repeated with amusement. “Think a I need a pop of color?”

“It’d do you good I think.”

He grunted and looked at the card, his face falling when his eyes landed on the polaroid that was taped on the inside and the writing that was scrawled onto the blank space of the card. His sudden change in his expression made you fidget with your fingers as you remembered the photo.

It was a rare photo of you and Simon together, one that you pretty much had to force him to take with you since he seemed to be allergic to any kind of camera. You promised him that it was just for you since you wanted to at least document that you were friends with him somehow. You ended up making two copies and thought it was fitting for him to have one since he was your friend after all.

“I forgot I put that in there…” You mumbled but trailed off as you realized he most likely wasn’t listening.

Simon read the words on the card over and over again, his eyes jumping from them to the polaroid as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His shoulders had tensed up and his free hand clutched the banknote so tight that it crumpled in his grasp. 

By now you were worried that you had either overstepped or completely failed with the gift giving. You were disheartened, your throat tightening up just a bit as you tried to come up with something to say to alleviate the situation.

“You can ignore what’s on the card, I wrote it when you were gone.” Your eyes were glued to his face to see his reaction.

Simon’s eyes darted to you and you shrunk underneath his intense gaze. He was breathing ever so slightly harder, enough for you to notice, and his eyes hazy yet there was something deep hidden within them, something that made a shiver go down your spine. His gaze was too much but you still couldn’t look away as much as you wanted to, as if looking away from him would cause more trouble.

He haphazardly put the card down and before you could react, took your face into his hands and kissed you on the corner of the mouth.

You froze. Your eyes were wide and your heart was in your ears as your mind raced a million times a minute, trying to figure out if what just happened was real and if he truly meant to kiss you there. All the while Simon stared at you with similar shock, almost as if he didn’t mean for it to happen at all.

Was he going for your cheek and missed? Was he going for your lips and missed? Did he actually just kiss you or was it a really drunk hug?

You were panicking, your already shot nerves mixing with the alcohol created a strange feeling in your stomach that urged you to attempt to kiss him back. 

However, much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away from you before you could even have your lips connected. Heat immediately washed over you and you nearly ran out of the room as you scooted away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes now as you felt the need to sink into the couch and never appear again.

You misread the situation, the alcohol had gotten you, the horrible, stupid liquid turned your brain to mush and made you too impulsive. You wanted to die, you wanted to do anything to get rid of the embarrassment you felt that you went to leave before Simon grabbed onto your wrist.

“Don’t.” He pulled you back down and kept hold of your wrist. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t make yourself look at him even if you wanted to. The thought of having to stare at his intense eye right now made you feel sick to your stomach. You just wanted to hide in your room until both of you decided that this never happened and that your friendship wasn’t ruined by a misunderstanding. 

“Please.” 

One word, soft and desperate, had you turning your entire body towards him immediately. You hesitated for a moment before you looked into his eyes, the comforting brown dowsing some of your nerves as he drank up your face, the intensity still there but held back by the fact that his face was red and he eyes broke from yours multiple times.

He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.

You were about to apologize when he cut you off.

“Not like this.” He swallowed hard and stared deep into your eyes hoping that you would understand what he meant without him having to say it out loud.

It took you a moment to realize and most of the embarrassment fading as his eyes darted away from yours. You stared down at his hand around your wrist, his hot skin against yours prickle with goosebumps before you eyes widened. If he doesn’t want to kiss you now that means he wants to kiss you later which means he’s thought about kissing you.

You felt dizzy at the thought and you could hardly think straight as it was. You couldn’t think about the implications of the words he said right now, not when you were stumbling drunk and close to a heart attack due to this very awkward situation that he admittedly put you both in. 

“Oh.”

That’s all you could think to say. A meek ‘oh’ as if that was enough to convey the feelings and thoughts raging inside of you that would surely clear the air if you said them yet you couldn’t find the words to do so. But right now maybe that wasn’t what you both needed.

No, right now you needed to ease the situation so you could think about this later with a clear mind and without screwing it up more.

“Tell me a joke.” You said, your voice still small, and he looked at you with confusion. “Tell me a joke, Simon.”

Simon let go of your wrist and turned away from you. He gave you one last glance before he picked up the joke book and flipped through the pages, taking his time to read through the lines which filled the room with awkward silence that mixed with the random movie on the TV. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“What do you call a prisoner going down the stairs?” He asked and you knitted your eyebrow with confusion. He didn’t look up from the book when you didn’t answer but he nodded. “Condescending.”

“Oh man.” You scoffed, cringing at the horrible joke but finding it hard to not laugh all the same.

You fought against a smile that threatened to appear on your face and you made eye contact with Simon as he glanced at you. You watched as his shoulder relaxed slightly and he looked back down at the book in his hands, eyes skimming the words like mad.

“A book fell on my head today. I’ve only got my shelf to blame.”

“Ugh! Horrible.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now or the smile as the alcohol made it so much easier for the jokes to make you happy. You scooted closer to him and he turned his body towards you, his eyes still looking at you hesitantly, almost as if he was asking you permission to keep going or to even look at you, but he couldn’t help but smile as well. 

“What kind of murderer has fiber?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You waited for him to continue as you prematurely cringed from the bad joke that was about to grace your ears.

“A cereal killer.”

You made a disgusted sound but laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. You expected him to nudge you off but he didn’t and instead you heard him let out a quick sigh of relief before he flipped through the book again.

Simon rattled off a few more jokes, each of them making you laugh and taking the tension out of the air until both of you were settled against each other on the couch as if nothing had happened. He pressed his shoulder against yours as he closed the book and stared up at the ceiling. 

The movie took up the silence as you both sat there for a moment.

You looked up at him and he looked down at you when he saw you move from the corner of his eye. You took in his scars again and the way that they seemed more prominent from his red cheeks, looking into his eyes to see that they still had the tired look in them before you spoke.

“How drunk are you?” You wondered and he blinked.

“Not drunk enough to forget this.” He admitted, knowing exactly the reason why you asked him.

You nodded, knowing that you were the same. Even if you were more drunk than you were right now sure that you would remember something like this and yet the thought didn’t scare you. As embarrassing as it was, you didn’t want to forget it.

“Good.”

Link to Part 3

A/N: This feels messy but honestly I can't go back and restart so I hope it's okay. Also Idk how the UK money system works so just imagine what I put is correct and not wrong lol

EDIT: I forgot to put the tags sorry!! @msecho19

[bloomyeu]

peach eyes

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in which chan and you struggle to convey the love you have for each other

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst? fluff? comfort? :) not edited

a/n: channie is so soft i luv him. fic is based off peach eyes by wave 2 earth

masterlist | requests

He knew he loved you.

He really did, but at times he felt like it was never conveyed. The constant hours at the studio, the time away on tour, on a plane, at a showcase, hours that werent spent with you. He felt bad, when was the last time he kissed you? 3 weeks ago? Maybe 4?

Maybe its time he lets you go. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew you loved him.

Yes he was always busy, yes he wasn't home, but with him you were complete and that was that mattered. No matter how much time was spent apart.

Maybe its time you let him know you love him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Its been a few weeks since chan had last been home, and with the two weeks coming up to it, you could only think of how you could surprise him to make him feel the love you have for him. To hug and kiss him without anything holding you back.

He was supposed to be back at around 6pm. So you made everything he loved. A home cooked meal of jjajangmyeon, bobs burger on the tv, christmas candle lit, fuzzy blanket ready on the couch, and cuddles. 

The plan was to tell him how you felt as soon as you both finished dinner, although things don't always go exactly as planned. 

hey ynnie, flight got delayed :[ have no idea what time ill be home we also have a team dinner as soon as we land so dont wait up for me! im sorry baby, i rlly wanted to see u

hii channie awe thats sucks :/ i hope u have fun tnt and land safely!! will u still come tnt or r u gna stay at the dorms?

ur crazy i need to see u babe ofc ill be home ill jst be late

ok!!! ill be waiting <3

And with that dinner was put back in the fridge, candles were blown out, love confessions burned on your tongue, and tears were falling as you showered. 

You knew it wasn't his fault, he didn't even know. But it still hurt. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

He felt so bad.

All he wanted to do was come home and be in your arms, and yet the flight got delayed so he’d be back at around 9pm and had a dinner/team meeting/debrief as soon as he landed. Could it not wait till tomorrow?

He knew you were waiting for him, wanting to spend a day with him before the both of you are sprung back to work.

But life is unfair is it not?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was around 1am when chan unlocked the front door of your(shared) apartment. 

The house was quiet, but he could hear Lorelei Gilmore talking about Chilton and whatnot.

“Ynnie, I’m home,” he whispered into the still apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, he noticed the food you’d prepared, and it made his heart swell. The jjajangmyeon, perfectly plated and covered with plastic wrap to keep it warm, the careful presentation that showed how much thought you’d put into making his favorite meal. You even remembered to set out his favorite pair of chopsticks—the ones you’d bought together during a trip to Japan.

The effort, the care, the love you’d put into this simple act of cooking for him—despite the long hours and despite knowing he might not even make it home in time to enjoy it—it all hit him like a wave. You still did these things for him, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

He could almost see you in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you cooked, imagining the smile on your face when you thought about how happy he’d be to come home to a meal made by you. The image was so vivid, so tender, that it made his chest tighten with emotion. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed by the depth of your love and how much he missed these moments with you.

He walked out of the kitchen before the tears could spill, hoping to pull himself together, but then he saw you on the couch.

You were wearing his shirt, the one that was a little too big on you but somehow looked perfect, hanging off your frame in that effortlessly beautiful way only you could manage. The fuzzy white blanket was wrapped snugly around you, keeping you warm as you slept. Your mouth was slightly agape, soft snores leaving your lips, and your hair was slightly tousled, as if you’d fallen asleep waiting for him.

He knew you’d tried to wait for him, and he’d never felt so guilty.

You never complained about the hours he worked, you never argued when he said “10 more minutes” at the studio—you were so good to him.

And yet he felt he treated you like crap.

And that realization only made him let out a choked sob.

He sank to his knees beside the couch, his hand reaching out to touch your face gently. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. Chan watched you sleep, his heart heavy with guilt and love. He wished he could turn back time, be there for you more, show you how much you meant to him.

He sat there for a while, just watching you sleep. The room was dim, the only light coming from the TV playing Gilmore Girls on low volume. The soft glow cast shadows on the walls, creating a peaceful, almost magical atmosphere. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. He knew he needed to be strong for you, to make things right. To treat you better.

Eventually, he got up and went to the bedroom. He changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed a spare blanket. He returned to the living room, covering you with the extra blanket before settling down on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t want to disturb you by trying to fit on the couch with you, but he wanted to be close.

As he layed there, he thought about all the times he’d missed, all the moments he should have been there for. He remembered the first time he met you, how your smile had lit up the room. He thought about all the little things you did for him, the way you always made him feel loved even when he was far away.

He made a silent promise to himself that he would do better. He would make more time for you, show you how much he loved you. He wouldn’t let his career come between you two anymore. He closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day, that he could start making things right.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Morning came, and you woke up to the smell of coffee. You blinked a few times, realizing you were still on the couch. The TV was off, and the apartment was filled with the soft morning light. You sat up, stretching and rubbing your eyes.

That’s when you saw Chan in the kitchen, making breakfast. He looked up and smiled when he saw you awake.

“Good morning, ynnie” he said softly.

“Hiii channie, good morning. How was the flight” you replied, your voice still groggy from sleep.

He walked over to you, holding a cup of coffee. “It was ok. made you some coffee.”

You took the cup from him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thank you.”

He sat down next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and guilt. “I’m sorry about last night. I really wanted to be here with you.”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his. “It’s okay, it wasn't your fault. I know you’re busy. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I wish i was here more, with you. I want to be here for you more.”

You smiled, tears forming in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

He leaned in, kissing you softly. a kiss filled with love and promise, a vow to be better. You kissed him back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to work through it together.

The two of you spent the morning talking, about anything and everything. It felt like you both were in your own bubble, just the two of you without any distractions. Chan told you about his tour, the places he’d seen, the experiences he’d had. You told him about your days, the little things that made you smile, the moments you wished he’d been there for.

As the day went on, you realized how much you’d missed these moments. The simple act of being together, sharing your lives. It was something you never wanted to take for granted again. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Over the next few weeks, things began to change. Chan made a conscious effort to be more present, to spend more time with you. He still had his responsibilities, his career, but he found a balance. He made sure to call you every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. He made time for date nights, for weekends away, for the little things that made your relationship special.

You could see the difference in him, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel. The love was always there, but now it was more tangible, more real. You felt closer to him than ever before, and it made you realize how strong your love was.

as you were both sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, Chan turned to you, his eyes filled with emotion.

“Ynnie you know i love you right? you mean the world to me. Youre like my sunlight”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. “I love you too, Channie, so much. With you I can do anything, were meant to be”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Always,” he whispered.

And in that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together. Your love was strong, and it would endure.

fin.

masterlist | requests

[luveline]

hiii!! i saw that you wanted some roan & eddie & reader requests sooo,, becuase barbie is trending so muchh i was wondering if you could write reader watching roan play with her barbies and instantly taken back to her childhood and getting very emotional ??

i mean its whats happening to me being reminded how much ive grown and how much effect those dolls had on me soo yeah 😭

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

A long, creaking squeal sounds from Roan when you come home. Eddie plugs his ears, knowing exactly what it is you have in the huge plastic bag at your waist —Roan's special treats, as previously discussed, for being such a lovely girl lately. 

It might be a silly thing to treat her for, but she deserves toys before any amazing behaviour, and you have the extra money to buy them. Why shouldn't she get them? You and Eddie chatted some while you were at work that morning, trying to choose what toys to get. 

"I haven't bought her toys by myself since we first met, what if I pick something crappy?" you'd worried. 

Eddie gave it a little bit of thought, hand twined in the curling wire of the telephone, slouched as he usually does against the back wall of the shop. "Hey, she hasn't had any new dolls since Christmas. They'd go over nicely. Or she always likes a new dress. I'm sure you'll find something when you're there. You can get me something fun at the same time if you want." 

You'd laughed at his joke and, if the light in your eyes now is anything to go off of, managed to find some presents you're happy with.

"Naddy's Toy Emporium!?" Roan shouts, rocketing off of the couch where she'd been standing waiting for you. 

You've a nightly routine, hugging her when you come home like your life depends on it, but clearly Roan has decided the hug can wait. For once, Eddie's finished dinner before you're return, so he has a good seat on the couch to watch everything unfold. 

You let her grab the bag's sides but lift it a touch when she tries to take it. "Hey, they're for you, I promise, but let's come inside and put them on the table!" 

Roan squeals and knocks into Eddie's knees. He sits up and grabs her gently by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap. You sit on the couch cushion trampled flat by Roan's feet, pulling the play table where she likes to eat her snacks closer. 

"Are you doing the speech?" you ask Eddie, putting down the bag. 

He grins. "Ro," he begins, turning skewiff, her back to the couch to allow you both a great view of her face, "you've been a really good girl, lately. Do you know that? You've been eating all your dinner, no tantrums before school, and now you're even starting to help clean up around the house. So me and Y/N just want you to know how proud we are and how awesome we think you are." 

"And we think all this awesome deserves some presents because we love you," you say. "Do you want the smallest or the biggest one first?" 

There's lots of nice presents. You've stayed within the confines of the agreed budget, which is a feat for you (as you love to spoil her). There's five new barbies, one of which comes with a car, and the other a puppy dog. They have clothes, accessories, and an abundance of plastic he needs to cut away with scissors. His hand is welted red by the time he's through. 

You also bought her a glittery lip gloss to replace the one she lost a few weeks ago. The proof of it sparkles on your cheek and Eddie's, twin thank yous. 

You go quiet as Roan retreats to her satin princess tent, driving the pink corvette back and forth as she makes the barbies talk to one another. 

"You okay?" he asks. You'd been wearing this huge smile for the last twenty minutes and now it's gone, he hates it. "I've been thinking maybe you deserve something nice, too." 

You smile weakly. Okay, so you're not wanting anything. 

"Dinner should be ready soon." 

"Thanks, Eddie." 

He gives up. He's about as subtle as a feather boa and you love him that way, drifting down toward your arm, his face smashing into your shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

You put your head atop his. "Well, I'm just thinking." 

"I may not look like it, but I think too, occasionally. Share with me." 

You push his arm until he sits up and sinks down into his side instead. Eddie supposes you're allowed, even if usually he'd call it sexist or selfish. "I had a lot of fun picking those out today, and I kept thinking about the look on her face…"

Eddie hums to show he's listening. Kisses the top of your head 'cos he can. "Yeah?" 

"I just remembered being her age. Do you remember wanting something really badly? There was something so nice about getting to grab a kart and– and to just stand there debating which ones to get." 

Eddie toys with your pinky finger. "That's not everything, is it?" 

Your smile presses against his arm, a deep emotion in your voice that's hard to pin. "Watching her makes me remember. Being a kid, playing make believe. I'll never be that young ever again, and there's no way to go back. But I," —you take in a steadying breath— "don't mind. I love seeing her so happy." 

He intertwines your fingers between his, shorter and a little bit softer than his. He soaks in your presence for a moment, the smell of you, your tiny sounds, the secret you've shared with him. You're a mixture of sad and happy. He's not sure which one overpowers which, only that they're hitting you hard. 

"There's lots of cool shit that comes with being a parent. You know the best one?" he asks you, raising his eyebrows at you with a fondness lining his lips. 

"No?" 

"You can play games without anyone judging you. I know it's not the same as being a kid again, but it's close." 

"Yeah?" you ask, sitting up. "You'll come play too, right?" 

Eddie casts his gaze to his daughter where she chit chats on the floor. "Hey, Roanie? Can we come play with you?" 

Roan is almost as pleased as when she first laid eyes on her treasure trove of dolls. 

[solarmorrigan]

Hi! Could you possibly do 'You don't have to stay.' With Steddie from the angst writing prompt, please? Thank you in advance 😊

Hi! My apologies again for taking two weeks to get to this, but thank you for sending it! This one was fun to write :D

[No warnings; happier ending this time, I promise]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

Eddie feels like an idiot.

He just – he got so wrapped up in everything. In the way Steve has been keeping him company every evening, in the way they have dinner together and play cards together and watch movies together and fucking fall asleep together (Eddie and Wayne’s new place is bigger than their old one, but it’s not like the government sprung for a house with a goddamn guest room or anything). He just forgot that Steve isn’t really meant to be part of his life.

No, Eddie just has Steve on loan.

He is abruptly reminded of this fact one afternoon when he hits Family Video with the intent to pester Steve (and maybe even rent a movie) and instead stumbles right into the tail end of a conversation.

Maryellen Someone-or-Other from the year below Eddie (he’s never really seen the point in remembering names unless they’re a friend or a foe; he figures his brainspace has better uses than the names of people who don’t give a shit about him one way or the other) is leaning over the counter, making eyes at Steve. She’s practically batting her eyelashes and resting her weight in a way that puts the low-scooped neckline of her shirt prominently on display.

“Are you sure?” Maryellen is asking, bottom lip pouting out in a way that is, in Eddie’s opinion, far too obvious.

“Afraid so,” Steve replies with one of his softer smiles, like he might actually be sorry. “I already have plans tonight.”

And – plans? What plans? Eddie thought Steve would be coming over to his house tonight, like pretty much every night.

But then Steve’s eyes flick up from Maryellen and catch Eddie standing stupidly in front of the doors, and his smile widens a little, becomes something happier, sillier, and – oh. Eddie’s house is the plan. Right.

“Well,” Maryellen sighs, high and put-upon, pulling Steve’s attention back to her, “maybe next time.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve nods. “Yeah, maybe.”

Maryellen glances Steve up and down one more time—and, seriously, obvious much?—before she straightens up and sashays past Eddie and out of the store. She doesn’t even seem to have a video with her. Had she come in just to ask Steve out?

And Steve had turned her down?

It’s not like Eddie is interested in what she’s selling, but he has eyes – Maryellen Whatserface isn’t the sort of date you just turn down. Not when she’s flirting and flashing her cleavage at you over the counter of your workplace. And she especially isn’t the type of date Steve Harrington turns down, certainly not to spend an evening sitting around in Eddie’s room doing a whole lot of nothing.

Of course, that’s not how Eddie sees it – not really. They’re not doing nothing if they’re talking, if they’re sharing stories or thoughts or even just dumb jokes. Not if they’re sitting quietly together because sometimes you can only be that type of quiet with someone who gets you. Not if Eddie is strumming random notes on his guitar and Steve is humming along, almost absently, like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

It isn’t nothing to Eddie, but to Steve – well, now that Eddie thinks about it, Steve is probably just putting his life on hold so he can be a good friend to Eddie in the aftermath of all the Upside Down fuckery.

Which is very kind of him, obviously (which is apparently just the sort of person Steve actually is; sure, he complains a whole hell of a lot, but Eddie doubts if there’s a single damn thing Steve won’t do if he thinks he can help someone really in trouble), but Eddie doesn’t need him to do that. He doesn’t need any kind of pity friendship. He doesn’t need Steve to put all his shit on hold just to take care of him, only to end up resenting him because he can’t go anywhere or do anything because he’s too busy being the goddamn babysitter.

Eddie doesn’t need that.

“Hey.” Steve is the one leaning the counter now (and he doesn’t exactly have Maryellen’s assets, but damn if the position doesn’t make his shirt stretch appealingly over his chest, anyway) and making eyes at Eddie, except they’re sort of confused-and-concerned eyes, which makes sense, since Eddie still hasn’t moved out of the damn doorway. “You okay?”

“Just fine,” Eddie says, snapping back into motion. “I’m here to pick a movie for tonight.”

“Y’know, I work at the video store,” Steve says, arching one heavy brow. “I’m here right now, even. You could just let me pick something to bring home.”

Eddie almost twitches at the casual slip of the tongue – home. Like Steve doesn’t have other places to be, a better house to actually go home to.

“I could,” Eddie drawls, “but I have it on good authority—my own, in fact—that your taste in films is not to be trusted.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just because you can’t appreciate Sly or a good underdog story–”

“Two hours of dudes punching each other, Steve.”

“That’s not all the movie was, and you know it!”

“Two hours!”

And just like that, they fall into their usual banter, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie can’t quite let go of what he’s been reminded of.

It follows him back home (to his home) with the movie in his hand (a decidedly non-sports-related movie) and dogs his thoughts and winds him up, and by the time Steve has gotten off work and is leaving his shoes politely by the door, Eddie is – well, he’s a little on edge.

A bit twitchy.

Maybe more than a bit.

Maybe he might be watching Steve, looking for signs that he doesn’t want to be there, that he has better places to be, that Steve regrets turning down Maryellen (if that even was her name? Now that Eddie thinks about it, it might have been Marie. Hard to say).

Maybe he watches Steve carefully as they make dinner, and as they eat, and as Steve heckles his movie choice just for the hell of it, and maybe he jumps on it a little too hard when, as the evening gets later, Steve glances at the clock and sighs.

“You know, you don’t have to stay,” Eddie says, shooting for perfectly casual.

Steve, who had been partway through rubbing tiredly at his eyes (probably about time to get those contacts out; he always forgets, and Eddie is always reminding him), pauses and pulls his hand away from his face to look blearily at Eddie. “What?”

“Just, if you have other places to be, y’know?” Eddie shrugs. “You don’t have to stay.”

Steve blinks. “What other places would I be right now?”

Eddie shrugs. He’s very casual about this and not worked up at all, as evidenced by all the easy shrugging he’s doing. “Oh, I don’t know. With Maryellen, maybe? She seemed pretty interested in taking you out tonight.”

A confused sort of look is working its way onto Steve’s face, like he has no idea what the hell Eddie is talking about, like he hadn’t just turned down a date earlier today. “Do you mean Madeline?” Shit, right, that was it. “Why would I want to be with her? Dude, what the hell are you even talking about?”

“I don’t know, Steve!” Eddie snaps, tossing his arms up in hopes that it’ll get some of his nervous energy out. “I just know that you’ve been here babysitting me almost every night for weeks–”

“I’m not babysitting, what are you–”

“And I figure that maybe there’s other shit you’d rather be doing! Places to be, things to do, people to fuck, whatever.”

And– Oops.

Eddie hadn’t quite meant to let all that out. And now Steve looks offended.

“What the hell is your problem tonight?” Steve asks, sitting up from where he’d been slouching on Eddie’s bed. “Did I do something to make you think I don’t wanna be here, or what?”

“I – well – do you want to be here?” Eddie splutters. “You’re a popular guy, and you’re turning down dates to sit around in my room all night? Doesn’t check out, man!”

Unnervingly, Steve doesn’t immediately snap back. He just stares at Eddie for a long moment.

“So, what? You think I’d rather be at some high school party? Drunk off my ass? Making out with some girl who doesn’t know me or give a shit about me?” Steve finally asks, voice low and heavy. “What the hell have I done since you’ve actually gotten to know me that made you think I still want all that shit?”

Eddie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t exactly have a specific defense.

Steve scoffs. “Did you ever think that I just want to spend time with you? That I like being here, that I like you? But fine, whatever.” He slides off the bed and stands up. “You want me to fuck off so badly, I’ll go.”

And with that, he stalks out of Eddie’s room.

Eddie is so busy reeling with the “I like you” of it all that it isn’t until he hears Steve shuffling with his shoes by the door that he manages to snap into action.

“Steve!” he calls down the hall, running full tilt for the entryway, because he doesn’t know much, but he knows he needs to stop Steve before he leaves, before some kind of irreparable damage is done.

Steve doesn’t pause, reaching for the door and pulling it open, and what Eddie means to do is step past him, put a hand on the door, keep Steve there just a little longer so they can talk.

What actually happens is that Eddie’s momentum carries him flying right past Steve, into the door, yanking the knob from Steve’s hand and slamming the whole thing shut.

“Eddie, what the fuck!” Steve exclaims, (rightfully) startled.

“I don’t actually want you to fuck off, okay?” Eddie insists, because he is a god of eloquence when under unexpected pressure. “I want… I really want the opposite of that, actually.”

Steve shoots him a disbelieving look. “So you were being a dick because you want me to stay,” he says flatly.

“Nooot exactly,” Eddie draws the words out, reaching up and twisting his fingers in his hair while he tries to think. “I was being a dick because I want you to stay but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to.”

Steve continues to stare at him. “Eddie, that makes no goddamn sense.”

“I didn’t say it did! I think we know each other well enough for you to know by now that I am barely in charge of my brain, Steve!” Eddie huffs. “I just – I don’t get why you would want to hang around here when you probably have better options.”

“No, see, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense,” Steve says, his voice going a little softer. “You thinking I wouldn’t want to stay, or that there’s anywhere better for me to be. I don’t want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else. I just… want to be here with you.”

“You…” Eddie looks over at Steve, really looks, and catches the anxiety sitting in his expression, and the hopeful spark in his wide eyes, and realizes that he’s absolutely had the wrong end of the stick. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a shrug that’s just about as casual as Eddie has been all night.

“Well then.” Eddie reaches up and slides the deadbolt back into place before giving the door a little pat; its services will no longer be required. Then, before he can think better of it, he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together and giving him a little tug back towards the hall. “Come on.”

“And where are you taking me, exactly?” Steve asks, amused and something a bit like relieved.

Eddie continues pulling him down the hall, heading for his room, and tosses a grin over his shoulder. “I am taking you exactly to where we both want to be.”

And if the way Steve crowds him over the threshold and into his bedroom is to be trusted, they are perfectly on the same page.

[nariism]

my brother's best friend

pair. miya osamu x gn!reader

content: fluff, attempts at humour, miya atsumu is a little shit, first loves, mutual pining

synopsis. miya osamu takes pride in the fact that he’s the smarter of the twins. he, in fact, is not (especially when it comes to you).

wc. 3.1k

a/n: om nom nom nom nom brother's best friend trope nom nom nom... ok i have to come clean about this fic i literally wrote the first draft for this in 2021 on WATTPAD and it's been sitting dormant forever up until recently. enjoy 🫶

‎oh my god, how did i end up here?

it’s the only thought repeating over and over again in osamu’s head as he sits there staring at you. you’re too preoccupied with the menu in your hands to notice his unwavering gaze, scanning through it and muttering to yourself indecisively about what to order.

of course, the question of how he ended up here on a date with you could be summarized in one simple sentence:

miya atsumu is the world’s biggest idiot.

if kita or aran were here they would surely be poking fun at him right now, lecturing him about how his dna is a perfect carbon copy of atsumu’s. and while they would be right, osamu is convinced his brother has at least 70% less brain cell capacity.

the thought makes him feel a little smug. (he’s in the class under atsumu.)

you were friends. at least as far as how often you saw each other, he considered you good friends. maybe. not that he knew all that much about you other than the fact that you were constantly... around. if he didn’t know that atsumu was the biggest knucklehead on planet earth, he would have assumed you were dating. but he knew his brother was too invested in volleyball to be seeing anyone seriously, and you didn’t didn’t seem like the type to mess around with guys like him anyways.

you were way too level-headed for that despite the raunchy, head-turning jokes you liked to tell, which honestly might be the reason why atsumu keeps you around.

whenever you came to their house, you would stick to lounging in atsumu’s room or the living room. you typically avoided disturbing osamu and the rest of their family — not like they minded having you around. no, in fact, their mother had a strange soft spot for you. you were quiet and well mannered, until it was just the three of you and suddenly an onslaught of fierce attacks on poor atsumu would commence.

for the majority of your friendship, you have stayed out of his way and he stays out of yours. you only talk to each other when deemed necessary, like when walking home from school or when you shyly greet him at the door because atsumu is on the toilet. he does, however, rejoice in the fact that there is another person on the atsumu hate train, and appreciates that you’re at least colourful with your insults. it’s impressive, really.

(he would never admit it. never. never ever. but it warms his heart a little that there’s someone out there just like him, expressing their love for miya atsumu in less conventional ways.)

you were quick witted and funny. a free source of entertainment when he would grow bored of his brother’s shenanigans. and it was a two way street, because when you needed a break from atsumu, osamu was always right there. 

you were noticeably gentler with the younger of the miya twins: asking him how school was, and if he needed help with his chemistry homework, and what he had for lunch. menial little things, but sometimes he found himself thinking that it was the highlight of his day.

otherwise, your presence in his life is, as osamu considers it, indifferent.

sure, he likes to look at you. and sometimes, maybe, he wishes you and atsumu would invite him around more often. it also doesn’t help his heart when you’re so nice to him, like when you’re all having dinner together and you pretend you don’t want the last dumpling on your plate and shovel it onto his. he likes that. or when you invite yourself into their freezer for ice cream, you always make sure to grab an extra one for him. there have been multiple occasions in which you’ve wordlessly slid him your notes to copy, too.

you were good at that; knowing what others wanted and being more selfless than the average person. you’re a people pleaser, and though he and atsumu used to make fun of your type when they were kids, your charm is undeniable.

unfortunately, actually making any sort of move on you is out of the question. not only would it potentially complicate things between you and him, it would also risk putting a strain on your friendship with atsumu. making his brother’s life a living hell is what miya osamu was born into this world to do, but for some reason his stomach turns at the thought of ruining your friendship.

you were just atsumu’s cute best friend. nothing less, nothing more. and he would very much like to beat the “i fell in love with my brother’s best friend” allegations, thank you.

he realizes he’s still looking at you intently with his arms crossed over his chest. he watches as your nose scrunches a little in thought, trying to decide between their two best sellers. he sighs in relief when you get up to order for yourself, tucking a stray hair under his cap before going back to sulking with his thoughts.

atsumu had a lot of bad ideas. so many that if they sat down and listed them all out they might be there for a couple days. but this? this is his worst one yet. and how osamu managed to get roped (bribed) into this, he will never know. but here he is, and here you are, and here atsumu is not.

he really should get better at saying no to atsumu.

(“c’mon, ‘samu! please? for me?!”

“what the hell? no. that’s a shitty thing to do. just tell them ya can’t go.”

“but it’s their birthday! they were lookin’ forward to this. they’ll hate me forever if i bailed!”

“and? why would i help you? ‘specially with somethin’ so stupid. it’s your fault you didn’t plan better.”

“don’t be like that, y’know it was a last minute thing!”

a beat of silence.

“pretty please? it’s their birthday… you guys are friends too, right?”

osamu can’t believe he’s entertaining this stupid idea for even a second. you’re not an idiot. you’d know it’s him with a single glance.

“this is an all time low, even for you. they’ll notice it’s me right away. are ya crazy, ‘tsumu? hit your head or somethin’?”

“it’s just this one time! i’ll never ask ya for anythin’ ever again. never ever ever ever, i swear it.”

“...’tsumu…”

“don’t sound so tired with me! do this for your big brother. have i mentioned it’s their birthday?”

big brother? osamu scoffs loudly.

“you actually mentioned it three times. and yer only a couple minutes older than me. but... fine.”

“don’t be such a jacka- wait, what?”

“i said fine. but you owe me lunch for the next two weeks.”

“deal!”

“... are ya sure they won’t know it’s me? i mean, i really think you should reconsider-”

“oh shut up, ‘samu, we’re identical!”

“just know that i won’t hesitate to throw ya under the bus if shit hits the fan.”)

what a terrible plan. pretending to be atsumu was proving to be harder than he initially anticipated. he would have thought that spending every agonizing, waking, living hour with his brother would have trained him well enough, but atsumu is so no-chill that it’s somehow making this already horrible idea even worse with every passing second.

surprisingly, you haven’t said anything. you haven’t acknowledged the massive elephant in the room. this could only mean one of three things:

1. you’ve noticed, but you’re desperately trying to spare atsumu’s feelings and osamu’s embarrassment by not bringing it up.

2. you’re dumber than he thought. dumber than a rock, actually, if you didn’t take one look at osamu and know it was him.

3. you are a cruel, wicked, evil, deranged human being who finds osamu’s situation entirely hilarious and wants this to go on for as long as possible.

judging by your casual banter, he’s willing to bet it’s either option one or two. you’re twirling a lanyard around your finger when you finally return with your drink of choice in tow. next destination: the local aquarium. atsumu put a surprising amount of effort into planning the day.

it’s a shame he hadn’t accounted for planning himself into it.

‎he shouldn’t have agreed to come here.

spending time alone with you like this was bound to stir up feelings he’d long ago buried in the hollows of his heart. of the miya twins, osamu was always better at keeping his emotions under wraps. there were rare occasions in which he lost his cool, in which he was actually somehow worse than atsumu, but in general he was as level-headed as you were.

you’re ruining him and his plans to never acknowledge his feelings for you.

it’s unfair, really, how his heart seemingly gets lodged in his throat when you cling to his arm so tightly, laughing and pointing out all the funny-looking fish. and when you point at something called a vampire squid, raving about how long it took you to find one in animal crossing, he nearly crumbles to his knees and puts his head in his hands.

(in other words, he’s totally whipped. he’s not beating those allegations.)

osamu thought he could get used to looking at anyone’s face. he always found people boring — he grew up being the other half of his brother, after all. the miya twins are many things, but boring is not one of them, and to entertain them you have to be someone with a special brand of humour.

but now, as he looks at you with the soft blue glow from the tank shining against your face, he can’t help the thought that crosses his mind:

i could never get tired of this.

“... hailing from the depths of tropical and subtropical waters, the vampire squid feeds on marine snow.”

he blinks back into reality, eyes drifting from you to the sea creature you’re admiring, then back to you. “marine snow? sounds gross.”

“it’s the debris that falls to the lower levels of the ocean. lots of deep sea creatures feed that way since it saves them the energy of needing to go hunt.”

osamu seems skeptical. “they really just eat anythin’ like that?”

your head turns to look at him. there’s a little smile playing on your face, like you seem amused by what he just said. “sounds like someone i know.”

he makes a strange expression in response. were you talking about him? did you often bring him up when you were alone with atsumu? the soft and fond look in your eyes doesn’t help his racing heart. the idea that you and atsumu talk about him in private so sweetly makes his face burn slightly in embarrassment.

he shakes his head to get the thought out of his brain before stuffing his hands into his pockets.

your arm finds his again, locking together. it’s an oddly intimate action, even if you think he really is atsumu. he doesn’t know you to be the most touchy person on earth, though he supposes he can’t see what you’re like behind the closed doors of his brother’s bedroom. his blood boils for some reason.

you stop at the next tank, the one situated in the centre of the room filled high with kelp and schools of tiny fish. you’re looking at them with wide eyes, light shimmering in them. he could cry right now. you look like an angel bathed in the shadows of dancing fish as your gaze carefully follows a school circling around the top of the aquarium.

there’s a feeling swimming inside of him, unfamiliar and oh so dreadful. he can feel it in raging in every part of him — in his heart, in the fiery pits of his stomach, in his throat — and he knows exactly which word comes to mind.

miya osamu may be in the lowest class in his year, and he might share a single brain cell with his brother, but he’s read enough books to describe this feeling. he’s listened to enough love songs to know this ache in him.

if you asked him ten years from now, he’d tell you exactly the same thing as he would right now; that your first love is always petrifying.

“pretty, aren’t they?”

“yeah. real pretty.”

but he hasn’t looked at them even once. how could he when there’s a living, breathing angel standing next to him?

‎osamu delivers you to your doorstep that night.

it feels like a dream, the whole day and having the privilege of holding your hand and feeling your body against his.

maybe it was just the greedy monster in him speaking. the laws of the universe dictate that if it’s you and osamu, atsumu needs to be there, too. the miya twins have always come in a package. a duo. there is no just atsumu or just osamu, at least there wasn’t until you came along.

suddenly it was you and atsumu. it was atsumu and osamu, and you. but there was never just you and osamu. it didn’t work that way.

well, screw the universe and its laws. osamu never believed in that astrology shit anyways.

he’s fully prepared to keep this day an untarnished memory — something to cherish when life goes back to normal and he’s unable to stand shoulder to shoulder like this with you again.

when you lean in to kiss him, there is only one thought repeating in his mind like a mantra:

it’s just once. just one day. one last perfect memory.

you’re so close that he can feel your breath filling his lungs. his heart hammers where it rests in his chest, so loud that he can hear it thundering in his ears. it’s then that he realizes this is wrong. all of it is wrong.

he recoils back with lightning speed, and his heart aches at the sight of your disappointed and puzzled expression. but it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to atsumu either.

he cares about both of you too much to be selfish right now.

how could he possibly risk hurting two of the people he cared most about in the world? he couldn’t be that self-centred, to be able to steal a kiss from you just to keep his memories of this day perfect.

perfect doesn’t exist if none of it is real.

“i’m not… i’m not who you think i am.”

he slides the hat off his head with shame burning in his cheeks, avoiding your eyes like a child who got caught with his hand in a cookie jar. it was time for him to be honest, both with you and himself.

“look, yer really cool. and i– crap, it’s complicated, ‘kay? i might like you. like– like you, like you. i wasn’t thinkin’ straight. 'm really sorry, i know it was wrong to string you along, i was just havin’ so much fun today that–”

his mouth suddenly comes to a halt as you reach forward and capture his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them together so he’ll stop rambling.

you look at him with a confused but amused smile. “um, ‘samu? i like you, too.”

“what?” he sputters out as much as he can with his face still held in place. his brows furrow, but all rational thoughts have stopped flowing in his mind. he’s staring at you like a flabbergasted idiot, so you continue.

“why else would i agree to go on a date with you on my birthday?”

“but– i– huh?”

your head tilts. “this was a date, wasn’t it?”

it dawns on him then. it had never occurred to osamu that there was another explanation for your strange lack of acknowledgment that he is painfully easy to see through:

4. you like him and simply thought this was a date. you like him as much as he likes you, which is a stupid amount. after all, he likes you enough to go through with an infinite number of atsumu’s terrible ideas just to make you happy.

of course you weren’t that dense. of course he was found out the second you laid eyes on him. of course he had misread the entire situation because he was blinded by his brother’s boisterous claims that they were indistinguishable.

“this is ridiculous. i can’t believe you–… atsumu somehow always pulls through even when he doesn’t mean to.”

“what do you mean?”

“whadd’ya mean, what do i mean?”

“about atsumu?”

“oh, he was freakin’ out about missin’ today and wanted me to go through this whole thing pretendin' i’m him so ya wouldn’t be mad at him.”

“but he already told me he couldn’t make it today? you really didn’t have to do… all this,” you gesture to his whole body with a flick of your wrist.

at your words osamu finally crumbles to his knees in pure agony. he looks up to the sky, to whatever god has forsaken him by making atsumu his other half, and sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. he can just imagine the shit-eating grin his brother has right now.

“i’m…” he pauses, carefully selecting his next words, “going to smother him with a pillow.”

you blink at him for a moment before all the pieces fall into place.

all the times you’d gushed to atsumu about your massive crush on his twin and the way he’d complain to no end about neither of you making a move, forcing him to watch on with mild disgust as his best friend and brother made goo goo eyes at each other. all the times he would “forget” his shoes at the gym and need to run back to grab them, pushing you into small talk with osamu. all the times he would suffer through your teasing just to see the two of you walking side-by-side sharing proud little smiles.

atsumu’s resume looks something like this: world’s biggest idiot, volleyball player, third-wheel, and tired wingman.

you’ll have to thank him later.

“no wonder you’ve been acting so weird all day! i thought you were just one of those guys who gets nervous on first dates!” accompanied by this statement is a laugh that makes osamu weak.

he grumbles. “what’s so funny?”

“say what you want, but you’re as dumb as ‘tsumu.”

“no… please… don’t compare me to that nitwit… i might have a heart attack at this rate.”

you snicker quietly as you help osamu back onto his feet, eyes shimmering with joy as you let his confession sink in.

“you’re right, he is an idiot.”

“dumbass.”

“moron.”

“he’s gonna hate us even more from now on,” osamu smiles uncontrollably, inching closer to you again.

“yeah?” your lips brush against his daringly, “i can live with that.”

EXTRA:

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

🏷️ @hyomagiri (im dead like actually dead)

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being a Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Part 1 Part 3 part 4

A continuation from the last part. I think I’m gonna later add stuff about y/n meeting other hero’s and villains plus some oneshots instead of just headcanon stories

Once again sorry/not sorry if characters are out of character . Also this is continuing y/n’a journey of continually getting more villains and hero’s to adopt them lol.

Y/n is literally becoming these Criminally insane villains’s emotional support child lol. And y’all can’t stop me from making that happen

Months within your friendship with Damien your a regular visit to the Wayne manor

And Damien is more than pleased with this since he now gets to brag to his older half-brothers

You can only giggle as the youngest Wayne drags you away before any of the others are able to talk to you

Damien at the manor enjoys spending time out in the garden with you

Having small picnics as Titus lounges beside the two of your in the grass near the expertly planted gardenias in full bloom

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

They even planted a small raspberry bush that only the two (now three) of them knew about

It’s rare to feel as if sunlight was a thing in Gotham but out here it’s almost rare that there wasn’t a beam of golden light hitting your face

If you make a flower crown for Damien he’ll wear it with a bit of bitching but the minute his brothers make a comment about it he’s pulling out his sword

Speaking of which, he shows you his sword collection!

An honour only you get to see without the threat of being stabbed as an extra bonus

He has a wide array of them, all from different areas of the world and different time periods

It’s actually really impressive

(Definitely asks if you want one and plans to get you one as a gift)

His room is bigger than your apartment and half the shit there would cover 4 months of rent

You don’t mention this though

He has a lot of imported furniture from what looks to be the Middle East and Asian descent

If you ask about it he’ll actually be really happy to explain their origin and history

He’s very passionate about history and seems to have a ton of knowledge on all arrays of most countries

Definitely gets worried when you mention have cup noodles for dinner 4 times in a row and demands you stay for dinner

You do and it ends up being really fun

At school after that he makes sure Alfred packs an extra lunch for you to have

Mr Wayne himself is actually really nice and much different from the Himbo he’s often portrayed as by the press

He’s extremely friendly to you, always offering a smile and small hello when Damien drags you off to wherever

He doesn’t seem to mind you being in his home infact he seems to encourage it

When Damien had chased his brother Dick around for trying to spy on you and him Bruce sat down and talked with you

He actually thanked you for making his son happy

Also asks if maybe he could speak to your parents sometime

You just say that their usually really busy abroad but you’d that get a letter from them since you don’t have a phone

You can tell by that alone he’s worried, like real worried at the thought of you basically living alone in a city like Gotham

A week later you forge a note from penguin lol. That man has good handwriting but definitely lost a few years on his life when you said it was for faking a note from your nonexistent parents

Bruce might be considering to adopt you and his sons are fully encouraging this

At some point in going to the manor you began sometimes helping Alfred with some small chores by delivering Bruce’s tea

He finds it to be a pleasant surprise and give him more opportunities to speak to you

Bruce finds you to be a impressive young lady. One who’s wise beyond their years and someone who has a unknown but similar weight on their shoulders

It worries him since he sees himself in your eyes

He begins connecting some dots about the rumours he’s heard about some young girl vigilante?, he’s not sure what exactly to label them as

But isn’t 100% sure it’s you since they apparently look 17 and your clearly 15

He puts a pin in it though

Anyways you can bet that he’s now inviting you to his gala’s so Damien more at ease plus give you a nice night to relax

He pays for clothes and even gifts them to you afterwards

The minute he finds out your an orphan you best bet he’s pulling out the papers-

Dick is super excited to meet you! Minus the fact that Damien is basically hissing at him and dragging you away

When he does get to speak to you he kinda reminds you of Nightwing with how pleasantly chatty he is

He asks about how your school is, if your enjoying your stay and what you think of lil Dami etc

Probably suggests to Damien about having you over for a sleepover and that he’ll take over his patrol for that night

Damien his heavily considering it

Probably calls you stuff like “kiddo!” And some alternation of your name

Has Alfred bring you and Damien snacks when y’all are hanging out

Listen he’s just really invested in the fact that Damien has a seemingly normal friend whom he cares for

It means he’s learning and adjusting to a relatively normal life outside of being Robin which was something he always worried about

Like Bruce he kinda gets worried about how your parents are apparently abroad and left you, a 15 year old child alone in Gotham of all places

Gets even more worried when you refuse to get a ride home

Sometimes spies but always gets caught and chased off by Damien who’s slightly annoyed

He means well

When you join for dinner he likes to tell a lot of stories and listen to your own

Basically already considers you a part of the family and is waiting for Bruce to slap out those papers

Might try to pry about who’s your favourite superhero just to see everyone at the table silently hope

His hope is crushed when you say it’s Wonder Woman

Then Everyone’s hood is crushed when you say your favourite male superhero is supermen

Clark probably hears their crushed souls from metropolis lol

Tim is just plain confused and wonders if your being paid or need help

He might love Damien as his little brother but he also has the scars to prove that little shit ain’t always a law abiding citizen

When he does realize though that Damien didn’t threaten you nor is paying you (why did he even jump to that conclusion?) he finds himself curious

Bruce forbids him from looking through your entire internet history and trying to find every possible trace of your existence

You notice early on how he’s addicted to coffee (just like Nightwing mentioned about red Robin)

Like with Bruce you help Alfred and deliver him some from time to time

This along with the limo rides with him and Damien give you the chance to actually talk to him

He’s really passionate about his goals, talking about his passions and plans in life

He seems to be hard working like you are, but to a worrying degree where he pushes himself to the limit (like you do)

It’s somewhat worrying to you as you find him lunched over his laptop with 6 empty mugs of coffee and bags under his eyes

You can’t say much since that would be hypocritical

But that doesn’t mean you can’t distract him for a bit as to give home a break he desperately needs!

You use Rigel to get his eyes away from his computer screen. The small white ferret making him pause as he scoops them up

Also riddles galore, some of which you might’ve borrowed from Riddler (he’d be so proud)

He’s pretty determined in getting to know you after a while, figuring out what you like and don’t, or what type of food you preferred

It might kinda seem a bit creepy at first but you realize that this is his way of trying to show his care. Odd but kinda amusing once you realize he told Alfred and now you have an entire menu catered to your taste

At some point he might’ve peaked at your records and is confused when he can’t find anything

He hasn’t told Bruce but he’s getting more worried when he digs deeper to see you seemingly live alone in a shit part of Gotham

Realllly wants to tell Bruce but also doesn’t cause that’ll mean he disobeyed him and might get another “friendly” visit from Damien’s batarangs

Whoops…oh the pain of being too smart

Jason shows up one day while your hanging out with Damien out of fucking nowhere

Like your just laying in the grass, petting Titus and then bam there’s a shadow looming over you

He seems kinda pleasantly surprised that “demonspawn” has a friend

Teases the shit out of Damien in front of you in a very big brother kinda way

Whenever he stops by he brings McDonald’s like a cool bring bother or uncle

Damien complains it’s bad for your health but stops when you mention that McDonald’s is something you can barely afford so you appreciate the free food

He may be a little shit but he’s not gonna be an asshole about that…at least not anymore compared to when he first arrived

He occasionally picks you and Damien up from school or drops by at lunch to deliver some special food from Alfred

One day when Damien was sick and it was raining hard when you didn’t have a proper jacket her gave you his leather one

He let you keep it, saying that he had plenty of other one’s and that you suit it better

Mentions literature a lot, even seems to have a small version of pride and prejudice tucked in his pocket

Jason likes to joke that his white streak in his hair is from learning about Damien having a BFF now

Damien in return calls him geezer and encourages you to do the same

He’s the person who immediately notices when you have any bruises other than Damien

Reallly tries to convince you to let them drive you home when you once mentioned the area you live in

He’s gonna get more white hair if you mention the fact that your apartment doesn’t have a proper lock on it and you have to prop a chair against the door

If Damien doesn’t gift you that sword soon he’s gonna give you a pocket knife

He fucking adores Rigel, loves it when the interdimensional god ferret lays in his hair

Takes photos and jokes that their now his white streak

You caught him using a baby voice with Rigel and his brothers won’t let him live (hah) it down

Alfred is half convinced that your some type of universal sign by some god lol

Best grandpa

He secretly bakes you and Damien cookies just for you two and even leaves some that have chocolate chip smiley faces

As stated before by Damien’s request he begins making you a lunch as well for Damien to deliver since he wants you to have a good meal

God knows how much he has wanted another calm person in this household

Sometimes in your lunches you find little bundles of fresh lavender and notes saying “have a splendid day” and “do your best”

He really appreciates you helping him out even though he didn’t ask. He mostly lets it happen so you have the chance to spend time with other members of the family

He makes little treats for Rigel

Due to Tim he has your taste narrowed down and always makes sure to have your favourites when you visit

May or may not have thought of room decor if Bruce adopted you

He senses your an orphan. He just knows but wants the others to figure it out rather than saying it

If you’ll indulge him he loves talking about old films and classic literature like Dracula

He was actually the one who introduced Jason to it and would love to turn their two person book club into 3

Finds Rigel very cute and lets the small animal curl around his neck

He finds it really nice if you want to join him in cooking and would most definitely teach you new recipes

Except his cookie recipe cause that one is a pennyworth family secret

You once tried to lie about not being sick and he gave you a knowing look before giving you a care package of his chicken noodle soup and some medicine

Your half convinced he’s not human but not in a bad way, more of a “is he a god?” Or “is he like Rigel” sorta way

You get legal advice from Harvey about the entire ordeal. The past DA offering to do more than just legal advice if you’d like

You say that you want to handle this on your own so he and two-face relent

But not before saying that the offer stills stands

Both Harvey and Two-face enjoy your presence for various different reasons but the important one is that you treat them as their own separate people

With Harvey you talk to him about what it was like going to collage and being the DA

He often talks about his friendship with Bruce and their crazy times when they were younger

He often wonders how he’s doing

You want to tell him but know that doing so could reveal who you possibly are

Probably tells you if the time Bruce “accidentally” poured wine on an asshole professor in a white suit after harassing a few female students

Probably tells you legal loopholes that your not supposed to know but you appreciate it anyways

Two-face on the other hand is kinda more difficult to talk to but once you get past his walls he talks and talks

Most definitely tells you how to pick locks and evade taxes, I’m sorry but that’s what he’s gonna teach you

At some point he probably offers to “talk” to your landlord about why he illegally raised your rent

Tells you about how corrupt the world actually is

Teaches you to flip a coin

He and Harvey get a lot of bouts of pain due to the burns so there are times they’ll go quiet out of trying to deal with it

With maybe a little magic from Rigel you make a special burn cream that helps alleviate that pain

Listen…you get he’s a bad person and all but you don’t like seeing people in pain

It’s been that way ever since you were young and having to watch kids your age suffer

Maybe it was always in your nature to help others no matter how much it weighed on you

It’s probably the reason why Rigel had chosen you in the first place

Yeah, that makes sense

Mr freeze is kinda a sad grandpa that you find yourself visiting to check up on

You had fought his shadowmite when the anger from his wife’s condition rose up again

After that your welcomed to his small lab for as long as you can due to the cold

He often laments about Nora. How she would’ve loved to meet you

You always say that she will one day which gets a small melancholic smile

You can only spend up to maybe 30-45 minutes with him before your begin to freeze despite you changing your magical uniform to better suit the temperature

If you request it he’ll show you how to ice skate and finds it really amusing if you succeed and then slip into a pile of snow

Speaking of snow, you like to leave little snow men hidden around for him to find

He sometimes talks to Nora’s body about you when alone. He mentions how he’s been feeling a bit better as of late due to you popping by

You don’t know this but he and Nora always wanted a child. So having you around kinda helps fill a hole in his heart that he long thought was frozen over with grief

I like to think that in his spare time he’s taken up knitting and made you a pair of matching mittens, scarf and hat

Their a teal blue with little snowflakes designs on them with maybe a little hidden snowman

He sometimes sneaks in ice or snow puns to watch you process it for a minute and then laugh

It makes his day

Probably tells you that if you need a good murder weapon he can make you a good icicle that’ll melt away therefore removing evidence

It’s hard to think he’s a super villain until he brings up shit like that

If you literally give him anything as a gift he’ll end up cherishing it

You actually end up meeting Waylon by accident in the sewers since you use them as a kinda secret passageway across Gotham

Your surprised at meeting the literal giant man who looks like a crocodile but you don’t end up panicking much

Same shit different day in Gotham

He lets you pass and even guide you to where you needed to go

After that it kinda becomes a system of meeting him and talking as he guides you through the Sewers (even if you knew them by heart at this point)

You like giving him leftovers that you have even if you also need them

The two of you now have a small tradition of sitting and enjoying a cup of ramen once in awhile

He teaches you a few French phrases and tells you of New Orleans

Talking of the mixed French and American culture of the city

At some point he probably tells you to visit for him if you get the chance. You promise to do so and being back a souvenir for him

Of all villains you feel the most sympathy for him. Someone who was born with something that they couldn’t control and being ostracized by society for it

Eventually becoming what they feared in the first place to survive

At some point you trust him enough to tell him about how you live alone. Barely getting enough to scrape by and living in a shitty apartment after running away from an orphanage

He lets you sit on his shoulder despite the fact you can basically fly a few feet off the ground

Also likes to mess up your hair with his giant clawed hands

He always makes sure to be slow just in case cause he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. You tell him he doesn’t and that you felt with worse but that in turn makes him even more gentle in being near you

During the winter you buy him a heater incase his condition also leads him to being cold blooded (which he is)

He definitely appreciates it since winters are really rough for him

Definitely finds the contrast of cute, small innocent magical girl and then giant, hulking, scaled lizard man being friends to be hilarious

During this time you begin to notice the Shadowmites kinda begin to thin out

It makes you a bit more relaxed and off guard (big mistake)

What had initially started out as a small gathering of them soon evolved into them all attacking at once

Biting and clawing as you did your best to stop them

By the end of it your left barely conscious, their hosts left laying on the ground passed out from having their energy drained

You could only hope they’d be ok as you find yourself stumbling towards the only place you could think of

Library

You move purely out of instinct, your body moving on its own as your weakened abilities help you move from rooftop to rooftop

Today was luckily one of the days you’d meet up with Hood, at least meaning if you passed out there you’d be relatively safe since your apartment was too far away

When you get there you almost sob out of relief when seeing his red helmet that matched the colour leaking from your form

Dark blotches of red contrasting against the lighter colours of your uniform

[dira333]

A United Front - Genma Shiranui x Reader

inspired by this prompt

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

“I can’t offer you a relationship,” Genma can hear his own voice, deep and full and not at all cracking. 

He half expects you to laugh, to tell him that he imagined the growing tension between the two of you. But you don’t. “What a shame,” you tell him, your face not betraying any of your thoughts. You don’t smile though and he hates it. Your smile has long since grown into his favorite thing. It doesn’t feel right for it to be missing.

“I’m just… not in the place for it right now.”

“Ah,” you nod calmly. “And do you expect that to change?”

His heart beats painfully in his chest. Are you asking…

“I don’t know. But… probably not for the next few years.”

“Right.” You nod again. “Well, thank you all the same. Do you… want me to stay away?”

“No,” he breathes out a bit too quickly. “I mean, no, you don’t have to.”

“Okay.” You nod once more and he wonders if it’s just a motion to distract yourself or something else. “We’ll just tell each other if we can’t deal with the way it is, right? If one of us comes too close for comfort.”

“Right,” he mutters, not really getting it.

You smile, but it’s different this time. Distant, like it no longer belongs to him.

“Well, I’m going to leave then. Might Guy asked me to train with him and I’d feel more comfortable doing that now if that’s okay with you?”

And he can’t ask you to stay, can he? Have Dinner with him as if this conversation never happened. So he nods and tells you to have fun and watches you leave, feeling miserable all the same.

But he chose this. And it’s better this way. 

-

Almost dying always sets things into perspective, Genma believes.

He’d been - what - twelve, when they ran into the Swordsmen of the Mist, outnumbered even if they had been on par with their skill level. Not even Might Guy had any optimism left, stiff as a board next to him.

And Genma had looked Death in the eye and smiled. Only to come out barely unscathed, though grieving someone he’d barely known.

And it wasn’t the only time someone gave his life to save him, but he’s getting tired of that now. Of people dying for him or worse, because of him, because he’s too slow, or not skilled enough.

Genma’s getting tired and he’s just reached the peak of his career. 

Personal Guard of the Hokage. 

Life has left a dull ache inside of him. He knows it’s not visible on the outside because he’s always been able to cover his pain with dumb jokes, but if he had to compare, he’d say he feels like Kakashi looks. A little dead, living on just because he has to, and because he has too much spite to give up.

It’s not fair to drag you into this. 

But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to.

Kakashi has his Icha Icha and Might Guy has his training and Genma, well… he used to have you. Going for a drink after a mission, laughing as you come up with ridiculous pranks to play on your fellow Shinobi, or taking a walk through the forest just because you needed mushrooms and felt he’d be good company.

Life’s easier when he’s with you. As if the air has more oxygen and gravity is no more, every step lighter than the one before.

But he can’t become addicted to something that will not last.

Not for him. Never for him.

-

Genma sees you enter the bar with Anko and decides against stepping inside. 

He’d been craving a drink for hours, today’s shift grueling in its boredom. But he doesn’t want to remind you of what was and could have been, or maybe, he just doesn’t want to remind himself. 

He uses his time to go shopping instead, having avoided the market for the better part of the week. They have your favorite fruit on sale and he grabs two before he realizes he doesn’t even like them that much. He still buys them, burying them at the bottom of his bag.

Everything seems to remind him of you, which is weird and stupid and not at all helpful. And it doesn’t make sense. 

You’re still alive, so he doesn’t have a right to grieve you and you never really dated, never kissed or anything, but he’s missing you. 

Genma made it a habit not to mention you amongst his friends, lest they think they’re something there but now he regrets it, wanting nothing more for them to talk about you, tell him where they saw you and if you looked well or not.

When he gets drunk on his balcony one night, he thinks he can see you out of the corner of his eye, leaning in the doorframe with that kind of smile he thought belonged to him only. But when he moves to reach for you, you disappear and he’s left sober and missing a part of him he didn’t know he had. 

-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Genma says the second you step into view. 

It’s a two-man mission and he’s done that before with you, but he can’t- he can’t do it right now.

“Why?” You ask as if nothing’s wrong. And maybe it isn’t, to you. Maybe you didn’t drown in your feelings for the last two months, fighting the instinct to flinch away at the bare mention of your name.

You certainly look like it. Like you’re fine with the way things are, without him. 

He bites down on his Senbon and nods, fingertips digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Just a thought,” he drawls out, before turning back to the Hokage. “When do we start?”

-

And it’s almost too easy not to fall back into a routine. You ask him how he’s been doing and he tells you the important stuff first, but you have that effect on him, keep him talking even when he feels he’s got nothing left to say.

“You know your favorite fruit,” he adds as he runs, mouth working with a mind of its own, “they had it on sale.”

“Oh? Did you buy some?”

“I did.”

“And?” Your smile has him almost miss his mark, but he’s better than that, catching himself. “Did you like them?”

“Still not really into them. But they’re ‘a great source of vitamins’.” Genma uses airquotes to show that he’s quoting you and you laugh and it hurts but he doesn’t want it to stop. 

It’s dangerous, working like this. His mind is too occupied with you for a mission of this caliber. He wonders if you notice.

-

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he’s building up your tent, suddenly glad that there’s only the two of them. With a three-man team they’d have to sleep next to each other at one point and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

The tent pole snaps between his fingertips. Genma stares at it without seeing it, his mind racing. What is he supposed to say to that? Yes? And then what?

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you point out behind him, your voice so calm it sounds like you’re speaking with a wild animal, ready for it to pounce any second. Do you recognize his heart for what it is?

“It’s not about wether or not I have feelings…” Genma cuts himself off before he adds the last two words. He swallows. “I told you I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“And what are you doing to change that?”

“Huh?” Genma turns, the broken tent pole momentarily forgotten.

“I mean, when we didn’t become Chunin the first time around, we were essentially told that we weren’t ready for that yet. But the ones who wanted to become Chunin tried their best to change that. Do you want to have a relationship?”

All tension leaves him with an exhale, the utensils slipping from his grip and onto the forest floor.

“I don’t-” He stares down at his hands. “I’m just so tired.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

-

Genma has missed this. 

Talking to you has always been a little different, a little easier.

He can talk to Might Guy about grief and to Kakashi about the potential of the coming generation but never the other way around. All of his friends have topics they don’t want to touch, but you’ve always been different, at least with him, vulnerable and strong at the same time. 

But he knows he can’t keep going like this. Not again.

“Do you think I’m ready for a relationship?” Genma asks the last night before they reach Konoha again, already used to the smell of his dirty uniform and the blood still caked under his nails.

You muster him for a second over the assortment of fruits and mushrooms and dried beef that you call Dinner. 

“I think you are,” you tell him finally. “It might be a little bumpy at times, but you’ve always been a bit of a ‘learning by doing’ type of guy.”

He sighs, the sound catching in his throat, barely making it out of his mouth.

“Would you-” You stiffen and he stops, swallowing harshly. Genma’s got half a mind not to ask but he drove himself into this mess, he needs to be able to get himself out of it as well.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he starts anew. “But if you still like me at least a little bit, would you be willing to try? And date me, I mean?”

For a while, you’re silent, watching him like you do with your opponents. His heart is a fluttering thing inside his chest, filled with a fear he hasn’t felt since he was a child. 

Is he enough? Is he worthy?

Eventually, you reach out and pick the Senbon from his mouth, twirl it between your fingers before you move in, pressing your lips to his.

His body reacts on its own accord, all the longing snapping into his hands and arms and shoulders, pulling you in with enough fervor to upset the forest floor beneath you, leaving the two of them tumbling down and into the soft mossy ground.

When Genma kisses you back, he puts all his feelings into it. His fear, his longing, his love. He can only hope that you feel it, understand it like you understand everything else.

But your hand is in his hair now, bandana gone somehow and he stops thinking because so far, that hasn’t done him any good anyway.

-

Anko whistles low under her breath as he enters, your hand firmly in his.

“Shut up,” he growls, but he can’t help smiling, chest pushed out with pride. You’re dating him. You are dating him.

“Young love!” Might Guy wipes a tear from his eye. “So beautiful.”

“Tell me when you decide to move in together,” Kakashi declares from his perch at the back of the table, “So I can make different plans for that day.”

“Very funny,” Genma drawls, pulling your chair out before taking a seat next to you. “We’ll just ask your team to do it, call it a D-Rank Mission.”

You laugh next to him at that, nudging his shoulder with your own. “If they have to pack up all your weapons it’s no longer a D-Rank.”

“Wait,” Raido leans in at that. “You’re moving in with her? Why not the other way around?”

You look up at him, giving him the chance to explain.

“Dude,” Genma grimaces. “Have you seen my mess? Her place is much better.”

Raido considers that for a second. “True. But give me a heads up, I want your apartment when you’re gone.”

“Rude.”

Below the table, your hand rubs a soft circle into his thigh. It’s the simplest of touches, a presence that’s barely there but never fully gone, a soothing balm to the horrors of everyday life.

Yesterday you fought about what apartment you’d move into and his knee-jerk response of going silent about it fell victim to your insistence to talk about it properly. 

Genma’s not perfect and some days he’s still so tired of this life that he can barely make it out of bed without your help, but neither are you.

It helps, he has learned, to tackle these things together, shoulder pressed against shoulder, a united front.

After all, if he knows one thing, he knows how to fight a battle.

Tagging some Genma lovers:

@comicallylargemango @squishyneet @itsyoursunshinebabe @marvelmymarvel @venerawrites

[desafinado]

𓆩♡𓆪 oblivious crushes hcs

their crush on you is as clear as day, but you seem to be wearing sunglasses

°｡⋆ kaveh, alhaitham, kaeya x reader (separately)

°｡⋆ fluff, maybe a bit ooc alhaitham, lots of touchy/clingy :( and some angst in kaeya's part

note: i haven’t gone too far into sumeru yet D: (purely bc of laziness and college) so that’s why alhaitham might be a bit ooc… but! i hope yall enjoy, i had fun. (ps. this was inspired by my short convo with @kana-dayo , i hope u don't mind the tag just tell me if you want me remove it!!)

kaveh ♡

it threw for him a loop the first time. you were both walking down the port at sunset when he asked if you liked him, and you said of course you love him and you couldn’t ask for a better friend.

he thought you had rejected him when and was genuinely heartbroken for a day, until you visited the next day acting as if everything was fine.

he did not know how to proceed, but he did with caution… when he realized, you genuinely did not understand, he decided to build up the romance before asking you again.

he started making it known to you (and everyone else in the room) that he wanted to spend time with you.

“alhaitham, if you could give us a moment or tw-” “no.” “we’re having dinner out then, dear, lets go.”

of course, he would never do anything that might make you uncomfortable, the moment you express any discomfort or hesitance, he backs off.

that being said, you have never really done such, most times you’re even encouraging him

“kaveh… hugs now please :( “

and how can he not deny you?

speaking of which, he also tried to make more gentle subtle touches, taking your hand when you both walked, placing a hand on the small of your back, hugs that lasted just a second too long.

by the end of it he was extraordinarily clingy, one of his favorite moments is when your head is on his lap and he gets to caress your head.

he acts nonchalantly about it, and so do you. little did you know was that he never did that with anyone else.

“what do you mean kaveh doesn’t like hugging? we spend hours cuddling on the couch..”

to be honest he doesn’t really think much of it either, touching you is like second nature to him. you don’t mind either, because for some odd reason, it just feels right.

he’s almost certain that you like him too, but he’s too afraid to confirm it. he’d much rather stay like this in some sort of limbo between friends and lovers.

but eventually, it eats him up. he needs some sort of closure, even if it meant the collapse of his lovey-dovey facade.

everything’s in place. he had gone through all the scenarios, he knew you were in a good mood, and alhaitham was all the way in sumeru city. everything was perfect for him to make his move, all he needed was you.

“kaveh, what’s all this?”

a picnic blanket was spread out on the grass, a strawberry shortcake, sandwiches and wine laid on top. kaveh stood before it, his familiar smile inviting you to come closer. “ah, i have to admit, it is something a bit special so, please have a seat.”

you follow his advice and gently rest on the blanket, careful not to disturb kaveh’s work. he does the same and sighs. “hm… is this an anniversary or celebration of some sort? did you finally pay off your debt?” you start to ask excitedly, getting a bit ahead of yourself. kaveh simply shakes his head, chuckling softly.

“no, dear. on the contrary, if this all falls through, it could be my funeral.”

you give him a curious glance, tilting your head. he takes both his hands in yours and squeezes them gently.

“nothing that serious, do you remember when i asked you if you liked me?”

“yes… and i still do, if that’s what your concerned about.”

“when i said that, i meant to ask if you liked me as more than just a friend.”

…

…

“you mean… like family? like sibli-”

“no, no, dear god no. i mean like… lovers.”

your face turns red at the mention of that word, lovers. it implied romantic love, of course; you weren’t that dense. he’s looking straight into your eyes, awaiting a response, but your lips feel as though they’ve frozen in place. a few more seconds of silence pass, and his lips purse into a heavy frown.

“ah, i’m sorry, if you don’t… i just couldn’t go on like this, pretending that we were something more, living in ignorant bliss. i truly am sorry.”

“no, wait. kaveh…”

you finally build up the courage to speak, letting go of his hands and caressing his cheek. if there’s something you can’t ignore, its the way he’s putting himself down.

“i-i like you that way too, i just didn’t want to believe it either. i… i didn’t want to delude myself into that, so i never entertained the possibility that-”

his tender lips find yours in a kiss, interrupting your rambling along with any doubt the two of you had left. just like all of his other touches, the kiss felt right, familiar, and simply satisfying.

alhaitham ♡

feelings, specifically love, are a far too strong force that many times they most certainly overcome any logic of even the most robotic of personalities; enter alhaitham.

normally, he would be upfront about these sorts of things, giving them the ultimatum. letting them choose to accept or reject his feelings.

but this time, he didn’t want to give you that chance. he needed you to accept him, he couldn’t imagine any other possibility.

so what does he do? he takes a chance with the whole concept of “romancing” in order to win your heart.

he makes an effort to be around you more, he’ll listen to your long winded rants about the most random topics.

“so, why do you care about this again?” “i just do, i’m not quite sure why honestly.” “that’s understandable, please go on.”

he’s never been one to care about how others might perceive him, how others might react to his actions, but he cares so much about you and he wants you to trust him.

once he notices the way your lips curl up when he enters a room or the way you look at him when you feel a bit overwhelmed, he takes this as a sign that he can try being a bit more touchy.

he never really understood the appeal of it, until he felt how warm you were, how your skin brushing against his made him feel a bit more understood and loved.

and you don’t mind one bit, in fact, you’re happy that he has you to lean on (literally and metaphorically)

but you imagine his roommates' surprise to find alhaitham on the couch cuddled up with someone he had never even met.

“wake them up, and you will sleep outside.”

he truly believes he’s being subtle, but everyone (well those who have the courage to) teases him about it.

he brushes it off, but warns them not to tell you or else…

however, when he starts moving onto more overt and blatant shows of affections, he is sorely disappointed to realize that you are not catching on.

he’d gift you flowers before every outing, call you cute nicknames, and even be more honest with his own feelings.

a polite smile, a thank you, and enthusiastic nod was all you ever responded with.

he was disappointed in himself, he thought he must’ve done something wrong, that he must’ve made you uncomfortable.

he needs to confront you about this in his own way, for his sake and yours.

“it’s you…”

his voice rings out like a bell in a cathedral, snapping you back into reality. he had requested for you to meet him at one of the gazebos near the akademiya. stars had been showered upon the night sky, and it was all you could look at, until alhaitham’s voice, of course. you turn around and chuckle at his awe-stricken face.

“glad to see you too. your letter sounded quite urgent, is something the matter?”

upon seeing you, he can’t control his movements, rushing towards you and taking you into a dramatic hug. you’re quick to hug him back, offering him any and all support he might need. he buries his head into your shoulder, taking in your scent, and touch, enjoying it while it lasts. his voice almost cracks as he speaks.

“yes. i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable with my… advances. i understand if you never want to see me again.”

the shock is almost enough to knock you over, but you simply pull away and look at him with deep concern. you didn’t know where he was coming from, and you had never seen him like this.

“advances? what sort of advances?”

“the romantic ones?”

“oh! towards who? i don’t mind at all, really.”

its his turn widen his eyes, he closes his eyes and pauses. he needs to pick his next words carefully, he really wants this to be a swift death, no point in dragging his heart against the pavement.

“towards you…? the one i love is you.”

he finally admits, hoping you finally understand. he’s run out of words to say, ways to express his unwavering love for you. you flicker between his eyes and lips, confirming if what he says is true, and what he feels is real; after a moment, you speak up.

“i’m sorry, i never… i knew you were opening up, but i didn’t stop to think…”

you calmly take him back into your arms, letting his head rest back on your shoulder. you stroke his hair slowly, trying to soothe him. “i was already so happy that you seemed to be opening up to me, i didn’t realize you meant it in that way. i didn’t want to push it any further than necessary.” he allows you to touch and pamper him, allowing himself the privilege of your tender care.

“i see. so you weren’t comfortable with it? you’re not comfortable with me…?”

“no, alhaitham. i’m more than comfortable with you, and i’d do all those things with you again.”

you blush, understanding the implications of what you had just said. you just opened yourself to him, laid yourself out for him to accept or reject. you close your eyes, bracing for what comes next, when you suddenly feel yourself being lifted up and spun around gently.

“alhaitham!”

“that’s all i needed to hear, darling. from this day on, we can do all those things and more… again and again, everyday.”

kaeya ♡

he likes to tease, that is no question. making others red in the face, in anger or embarrassment, is a pastime of his.

but why is it that you of all people, his one and only crush, remain unaffected?

its not like you even have a snarky remark back or try to hide your embarrassment, you simply let it pass as though it was the cool summer breeze against your skin.

“oh my… shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?” “uh why?”

you surely enjoyed his company and the silly jokes he’d make, even though there would be times you just didn’t understand what he was talking about.

other than that, he’d often be extra chivalrous towards you, holding the door for you, taking your hand as you walk down the stairs… but i mean that’s how knights just are, right?

though you can often feel his overprotective step out, especially when it comes to your safety, you once again chalk it to him in his cavalry captain mode.

only his closest friends and allies can detect the minor difference in his behavior around you, except you, of course. it doesn’t bother him, because it only solidifies his love for you, how serious he is about you.

sometimes he truly is just amazed with the way your mind works to rule out all romantic possibilities, its like the notion of love does not even exist to you.

he doesn’t mind it one bit, though. if anything, he wishes to be the person who introduces you to love.

he knows he can reveal his feelings at any moment, but he wants you to figure it out for yourself, that epiphany of love is something he feels everyone should experience…

that is until he catches you blushing with another person.

“oh yeah! they’ve been talking to them the entire night… they’re really hitting it off, i don’t-”

every word after that is just muffled noise to him. he didn’t understand the feeling coursing through his vein. it was a poignant mixture of jealousy, sadness, and disappointment in himself.

he immediately steps out of angel’s share, not even bothering with a drink to drown his feelings. he thought he was special to you, the way you were to him.

that’s when the creaking of the tavern doors catches his attention, revealing you.

“oh, hi.”

your voice was timid in the chilly night atmosphere, the silence between you and kaeya almost deafening. he huffs and crosses his arms, trying to pretend as if he hadn’t just felt his heart rip, shatter and

“hey, so what are you doing here? i know you’re not one for taverns, most specially on a wednesday night.”

he doesn’t miss a beat, starting his investigation. your eyes widen at his unusually stern demeanor; its not like you haven’t seen this side of him, but you don’t know have a clue as to where it's coming from. you start to sober up, feeling the excitement and adrenaline of the bar leave you. “honestly, i had nothing better to do… and i was trying to get out of my comfort zone.”

he raises an eyebrow at your seemingly simple explanation; you didn’t have any reason to lie, and to be fair, it wasn’t like he had a right to know anyways. his posture relaxes as gives you his arm, gesturing for you to take it; you, having no reason to deny him, take his arm in yours. you both start walking down the streets, no definite destination in mind.

“Is something wrong, kaeya?”

the glazed look in your eyes is something he can’t ignore, and he knows you won’t ignore his furrowed eyebrows either. he sighs letting the cold air entering his lungs, as if numbing himself before the storm truly begins.

“yes, actually there is. could i be a burden to you?”

“kaeya… you know you can always talk to me about your feelings, you’re no burden to me.”

a bitter chuckle escapes his lips, acting as if he truly had nothing left to lose. “that’s why i love you, you know? ah… i thought i’d be saying this in a drunken stammer or you’d hear from rosaria or lisa, but i’m more sober than ever and… i love you so much it hurts.”

suddenly, his touch feels much colder than it ever has, sending a shiver down your spine. you pause for a moment, the adrenaline and heat rising back up.

“k-kaeya, wait… i love you too. i’m-”

“you needn’t spare my feelings or lie. perhaps it was my fault for letting my pride get the best of me, and now you’ve been swept away by someone else, someone who makes you blush.”

your eyebrows curved into a straight line, clearly baffled by kaeya’s assumptions. yes, you were a bit oblivious when it came to love, so you feel like you’d take note if “someone swept you away”.“kaeya, i have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re referring to my demeanor in the bar, i was…” you face only gets redder by the moment. “i-i don’t hold my alcohol very well…”

kaeya pauses for a second, his lips parting in a small o-shape. he feels like such a fool for jumping to assumptions so quickly, but he quickly regains his composure realizing something far more crucial, a smirk plastered onto his face.

“i see. so you like me after all? and i’ve finally managed to fluster you”

“n-no, you didn’t! the alcohol just hasn’t-”

“aha, so you do love me? dear, just say the word, and i’m all yours.”

requests are open!! please do not reposts on other sites.

[luffyvace]

Hello, could I request Feitan with a reader who looks innocent and angelic usually but is actually just as sick and sadistic as he is? (Aka it's like a secondary persona kind of)

And she's also part of an organization(that kills people) without him knowing (she was part of it even before meeting him)

Ouuuu an interesting reader we have here~

Seeing as though all the feitan gifs are generic fighting ones I’ve put my own picture :) I think it’s hilarious 😂

enjoy your headcanons lovely anon! 💗

(fem! reader implied bc you used ‘she’ in your request but I won’t imply female body just in case)

Feitan getting with an angelic and innocent s/o is certainly an oxymoron

Your such a sweetheart, so thoughtful and kind

you always try to help and encourage others as much as you can

:)

But in reality no?? really your such a sick and twisted sadist who loves watching every moment of others suffering???

welp that went down the drain quickly

feitan might have picked up on the fact that it was all an act or your slightly sadistic tendencies

especially since he’s highly observant

Though I’m not sure how you revealed your in a organization or if you knew he was in the troupe but it probably went like

”your in a criminal organization? Oh…me too” 🧍‍♀️

“Wait what?” 🧍‍♀️

“so we’re both in criminal organizations of the sort?”

🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

well I guess its all out in the open now

as soon as he figures out your a sadist tho

its on

torture sessions become even more frequent seeing as though he now has someone to enjoy it with

he finds it rather fun to have someone laugh manically with him and not call him a loony 🤓

he’s grateful even

the victims really range from anyone off the street

to enemies from either of your organizations

maybe even someone who gave you a hard time

(they simply bumped into you, you apologized like the “sweet” person you are, but they had no idea what was coming for em that night)

(for fei, they probably mocked him)

you and feitan either have a dedicated torture room or have turned you basement/attic into one

and it definitely has a lock on it

feitan will recommend you some books and you likely do the same for him

(by some i mean you have a whole library shelf—who are you fooling 🤨)

you two make as much time for each other as you can

which yes torturing together counts as quality time

and y’all see it as a sense of normalcy too

wherever y’all stay you just be like

”hey wanna have a quick torture session then find something to eat for dinner?”

like it’s like going about normal daily activities for you two

it also feels good to have someone that gets you from the outside

like your both dangerous criminals,

that likely grew up in harsh conditions

(bc i mean come on mass murders have triggers/motivs they don’t just do things for no reason)

and now you have someone from outside your organization that gets you!

like, they even like torturing just like you!!

best s/o feitan could wish for

as time goes on you two would find out why you joined the organizations you did and if you genuinely enjoy it, just doing it for the money, etc

no matter the reasons or time, you accept each other :)

this also appeals more trustworthy to feitan!! Since your in one yourself, you can’t sell out feitan without selling out yourself!

😋

but…that could go downhill..

for example, your organization could be trying to target feitan/the troupe and is making you use him to get to them

As time goes on he shakes away the thought, it’s probably been years (when feitan’s down, he’s down for the count, he doesn’t do flings, in my hcs) since you’ve been together so he wants to trust you

basically the further things go in with you two, the more he trusts you

of course you have to make sure to give him reasons to trust you and don’t give him any reason not to

he’ll start getting suspicious of you even on the first slip up

(if it happens)

he has to protect the spider, there’s no way he can let it fall because of him

orrrr!!!

your organizations could meet! And form a alliance that may or may not be temporary/strictly business!!

it would be fun seeing all members together drinking and wrecking havoc!!

right?!

😊

LOL just imagine your all casually talking about such violent and socially unacceptable crimes 🤪

especially you and feitan

you guys are so silly

just a silly little group of friends :)

planning to commits fiendish acts together<3

honestly I like the last scenario the best

its so silly :P

I’m glad to see more feitan stans on my page!! thank you for requesting, hopefully you enjoyed!

💖

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part six

Pepper learns more about his soulmate.

MASTERPOST word count: 2.4k

“So— you’re gonna go sing in a room with a bunch of strangers, and then they’re all gonna decide if they like you or not?” Pepper stared at Felix, bewildered.

It was late at night. Pepper sat on the back of Felix’s couch, while the human was seated sideways— allowing them to face each other and remain around the same eye level. A movie was playing on the television, but the pair of them had since forgotten it, chatting absentmindedly. 

After Pepper’s dreadful ordeal with Basil, he had spent the evening with Felix, eating dinner with him (some kind of pasta that Pepper was thrilled to try) and watching two movies, neither of which he quite understood but still enjoyed. Even though he had declared his trust for Felix on a whim earlier, he couldn’t bring himself to be carried yet, and had insisted on walking from the kitchen to the couch himself. Felix, the kind man he was, had kept a respectful distance all night.

He seemed to have noticed Pepper’s uneasy, miserable behavior from the beginning. The borrower couldn’t stop thinking about Basil… but it was easier to shove the thought of her away every time he focused on the man across from him, twenty times his size.

“I mean— kinda?” Felix rubbed at the back of his neck, laughing in a quick exhale. “The judges are trying to find someone to play this specific role. So there might be dozens of guys auditioning for the same part, and the judges are just gonna pick one of us for the cast.”

Pepper hummed thoughtfully. “Okay… yeah, that makes sense. I think.” He furrowed his brow. “And— your auditioning is tomorrow?”

“Audition,” Felix corrected. “And yes, in the evening. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“When will you know if you get the cast?”

The human tilted his head, thinking. “My school usually only takes a couple days to cast things. So… maybe a week?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah,” Felix responded dryly, and Pepper laughed. “I’ve done a few shows at my university, but I don’t usually get any big parts. I’m a junior now, so maybe it will help that I’m an upperclassman.”

At Pepper’s confused frown, Felix began to explain the concept of class standings, and the borrower nodded, pretending to understand. Humans’ lives were way too complicated than they needed to be.

Still, it was interesting to hear about Felix’s life. Pepper had only known him as “the human who sometimes left this apartment” for a year, and he was excited to actually learn where he went all day. 

He briefly thought of Basil, and his stomach twisted, knowing she would be furious if she knew where he was right now. But— Felix had proven himself time and time again to be respectful and kind, and Pepper had done the best he could to explain that to Basil.

She said she needed time to think, he reminded himself. She didn’t ditch you forever. Hopefully she’ll come around.

“What about you?” Felix asked curiously. “What do you do for fun?”

Pepper blinked at him. Borrowers weren’t known to have a lot of hobbies; most of their time was dedicated to just staying alive.

“For fun?” Briefly, his gray gaze dropped to his jacket— a baggy, blue material that he had cut from an old bandana. “Well, I like to sew. I just finished this jacket, I’m really proud of it.”

He lifted his arms so that his small jacket was easier for Felix’s eyes to focus on. Felix blinked, and he briefly opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but decided against it. “That’s really cool,” he praised. “You made that whole thing?”

“Yep.” Pepper nodded, beaming. He didn’t usually have the opportunity to brag about his accomplishments to anyone. “You’d be surprised how much old fabric you can find lying around. Old headbands, bandanas, gloves… especially in the laundry room, down the hall. That’s where I get most of my fabric.”

Felix’s expression was open, bright with interest. His curiosity about Pepper’s life wasn’t a secret to either of them, and for once Pepper wasn’t totally afraid to tell him about it. “I spend a lot of time sewing. It’s calming, and you get something out of it that you can use later. Win win.”

“That’s really interesting,” Felix said honestly. He leaned sideways against the back of the couch, watching Pepper, and Pepper suddenly felt as if he was being admired under a human’s gaze rather than scrutinized. “I am not crafty at all. I wouldn’t survive a day if I was your size.”

Pepper smiled, amused by the thought of Felix borrowing. “You think so?”

Felix laughed. “No way, man. I would be exhausted after climbing all day, but you didn’t even break a sweat earlier. And I have no clue how to sew.”

“Honestly, a lot of borrowers don’t know how to sew,” Pepper offered. “But climbing, yeah… that’s kind of a necessity. You’re out of luck.” He snickered, feeling strangely powerful over the human twenty times his size.

Felix laughed with him for a moment, before hesitantly glancing over Pepper. “Borrowers?” He echoed softly, tilting his head. “Is that what your kind is called?”

Pepper’s small heart lurched, and in that moment he remembered that he was talking to a human. Suddenly cautious, he chewed his lip. “Oh… uh, yeah.” He glanced left and right, as if someone might jump out and yell at him for being a traitor to borrowerkind.

To his relief, Felix’s features softened. “Gotcha. Another secret, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Pepper said, and it almost felt laughable. “Yeah, so no blabbing.” He pointed a dramatic finger at Felix.

This was… strange, but comfortable. Pepper was very out of place in this apartment, perched on the back of a couch while speaking with a human twenty times his size… but deep down, he knew that he was safe. Felix had had so many chances to hurt him over the past week, but the human hadn’t taken advantage of any of those. Despite being the size of his finger, Felix treated Pepper like a person.

After twenty more minutes of chatting quietly, the credits rolled on the movie, gentle music playing. Felix pursed his lips, checking the time on his phone. “I should probably go to sleep soon,” he said, almost apologetically.

Disappointment squirmed into Pepper’s stomach, but he acted casual. “Yeah, no worries. You’ve got to be well rested for tomorrow.”

Felix sighed heavily. “I’m so nervous. I probably won’t even sleep at all tonight, let’s be real.”

Pepper laughed, pulling himself to his feet. He stretched his small arms over his head. “I’ll stop by tomorrow before you leave,” he promised suddenly. “So I can wish you good luck.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised, genuinely surprised. “Oh— thank you!”

“Yeah.” Pepper beamed up at him. His heart was racing, but it wasn’t out of terror anymore. No, this was a different feeling. “Alright, you get to bed. I’ve got a long walk ahead of me.” He yawned briefly into his sleeve before pulling his hook out, latching it onto the back of the couch.

Felix’s blue gaze lingered on the borrower, fretful, and Pepper knew that the human was struggling not to offer his hand to help. For a moment, Pepper wasn’t entirely opposed to it.

But that— that would be too far. Sure, he could spend the night with Felix laughing and talking, but placing his life into the human’s hand was another thing altogether. That would be transferring all of his power over to Felix. The thought was daunting.

“Okay,” Felix said finally, voice light. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pepper sent him a wave as the human paced off to his bedroom, shutting the door with a gentle click. He watched the door for a long moment, mind wandering, before he pushed it all away and began sliding down the thread of his hook.

As his feet hit the floor, a voice entered his mind— the same voice he had just been speaking with five minutes ago.

“Hey soulmate— I don’t know if you’re still awake, but I just wanted to say good night. I watched some movies with a friend and now I’m gonna go to sleep.”

A smile crossed Pepper’s face, and he clasped his hands against his chest. “Hey— how did that go?”

“It was great,” Felix said, voice warm. “My friend is a little shy, so I was surprised when he asked to stay over, but he turned out to be really funny and sweet. I really like him.”

Pepper’s heart swelled, and for a single moment, he wondered if he should tell Felix everything.

…tell him that he, too, had had a wonderful evening.

…tell him that he had just spent the evening with his soulmate.

However, he only clasped his hands tighter and said, “I’m glad you had a good time! I’ll talk to you before your audition tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, soulmate.”

—

The idea came to Pepper just as he woke up. He immediately shot it down, shocked that he would even consider such a possibility.

He ignored it. He ate a bit of a grape and a cracker for breakfast, then spent the rest of his morning stitching up the leg of a pair of pants. He held it up in front of him, examining his work, and briefly thought back to his idea. He scoffed. It was an insane idea. He would never do that.

But… the idea didn’t leave his mind all afternoon. He rethreaded his hook with stronger, more durable thread. He went for a walk. He spoke telepathically with Felix, encouraging him about his audition (feeling strangely as if he was the one playing a character). He scribbled his anxious thoughts into his journal. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So, with a stomach filled with ice and a burst of adrenaline, Pepper approached Felix from behind the toaster. The human glanced over at him, holding tight to his mug of tea. “Oh, hey, Pepper.”

The borrower swallowed. “I want to go to your audition with you.”

Felix laughed for a moment, but he stopped immediately at Pepper’s firm expression. His blue gaze scanned the borrower’s form, eyebrows arched in confusion, as if Pepper might jump up and say, “Psych!”

“What?” Felix finally asked, baffled.

“I want to go with you,” Pepper explained, anxiously fumbling with his hands. “For… for support. As long as no one sees me, it should be fine.”

Felix was silent, and the borrower flushed, taking a step back. “Nevermind, this is stupid, I don’t know why I—“

“No, no, it’s okay,” Felix said hurriedly, and Pepper paused. “I don’t think that’s stupid. I think it’s sweet, actually. But, you… you’ve never wanted to be picked up before. This just doesn’t seem like something you would want to do.” He blinked nervously, peering closer at the borrower.

Pepper forced a smile, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, yeah. I know. If I’m being honest, I’m pretty fucking terrified right now.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “But… I think this might be good for us.”

Felix’s eyebrow arched. “What?”

“You know, like, our friendship,” Pepper said in a rush. 

“Gotcha.” The corners of Felix’s lips twitched into a smile, then fell. “You know you can’t come into the actual audition room with me, right?”

“I can just wait outside somewhere.”

“Okay… okay. I…If you really want to do this, then yeah, you can come with me.” Felix took an anxious sip of his tea, thinking. “I’m leaving in twenty minutes. Uh— please let me know if you change your mind before then. Okay?”

“Okay,” Pepper responded, knowing full well that changing his mind was a very real possibility.

As Felix flitted around the kitchen, nervously humming, drinking tea, and speaking with Pepper, the two of them planned out how their day would go. Pepper would sit on Felix’s shoulder on the walk there (“I have great balance, Felix, I promise I won’t fall”), and during the actual audition, Pepper would wait inside Felix’s bag in the lobby. The entire excursion shouldn’t take more than an hour.

When the time finally came to leave, Felix hovered near the counter, peering at Peper.

“I’ve never picked you up before,” Felix reminded Pepper cautiously.

“Yes you have,” Pepper said blankly, and Felix flushed.

“Aside from that,” Felix said, abashed. “So, are you completely sure you want to come? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t want me to come,” Pepper teased, although his hands were trembling. Deep down, he knew he was just stalling.

Felix shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile. After a moment of apprehension he lowered his hand to the counter, palm up, shaking somewhat. “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”

Being faced with the task of placing his fate in another’s being hand was… not pleasant. Pepper swallowed, his gaze locking on the massive hand resting only a few inches away from him. Fingers that outmatched him in size curled in slightly, twitching nervously, each one strong enough to overpower him with one movement. 

The borrower stepped closer, heart pounding. He could see the individual ridges embedded into that thick skin. Underneath was a lifeline that stretched up into Felix’s wrist, thrumming steadily with a pulse. Pepper forced himself to take a deep breath, placing a tentative hand onto Felix’s thumb to steady himself. The thumb twitched in response.

A week ago, he had been trapped in this hand, and the bruises had only barely faded. Realistically, there was nothing stopping Felix from snatching him up again, squeezing him tight, or… or stuffing him in a jar, or…

Stop it. Pepper shook his head to clear his mind. This was his idea.

He wanted to send Felix an encouraging smile, but looking up at the massive human would probably only stress him out even more. Pepper swallowed, then placed his boot onto Felix’s palm.

He heard the quick breath from Felix, felt the air briefly move around him. Reminding himself that this was just as scary for Felix as it was for him, Pepper stepped fully onto his hand, holding his arms out to steady himself.

Okay.

This is okay.

He took a few cautious steps forward, wobbling slightly on the plush surface, until finally he had moved to the center of the palm. He held his breath, then sent Felix a thumbs up, unable to bring himself to speak.

“I’m gonna move you to my shoulder now,” Felix warned, and Pepper nodded rapidly.

At the first movement, Pepper gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. The world floated around him like an overbearing, threatening cloud, whispering to him that he was going to be dropped to his death in any second.

But— Felix moved slowly and carefully. Pepper’s eyes peeked open to see the human’s fingers curling up protectively, ensuring that his tiny passenger would not fall.

When Felix’s hand stilled, Pepper looked up, finding himself being held up to Felix’s shoulder. The human was wearing a white button-up, with a thick gray cardigan over it. The knitted material made it easier for the borrower to climb up and sit down on Felix’s shoulder, close to the collar. “Okay,” he exhaled, heart racing. “We’re good.”

The height was the first thing he noticed. Staring down past Felix’s cardigan and long legs, Pepper could see the floor. The only thing stopping him from plummeting to his death was his trust in the moving platform below him.

“Fuck,” Pepper mumbled, inching closer to Felix’s neck. He held onto the white collar with fervor.

“You okay?” Felix asked anxiously. He seemed to have been afraid to speak until this moment, releasing his words in one breath. “You’re not gonna fall?”

Pepper nodded, then remembered that Felix couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he assured the human, stomach twisting in knots. This was, by far, the most fucked up thing he had ever done in his life.

If Basil could see him now…

Pepper’s stomach went cold, and he pushed the thought away, taking a deep breath. “Alright. I’m ready when you are.”

----

hahahahahhaha

I'm gonna be incredibly busy this week, so I'm not sure when the next part will be out. I hope you enjoyed this part though!! <3

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169

[brnesblogposts]

Something to avoid your wip.

Of course only when you’re comfortable with it. How about Bucky takes care of reader who has anxiety?

And he is just a sweetheart? Maybe best friends to lovers?

Bucky barnes x reader with anxiety

i think i hate this and im also not sure if this is an accurate anxiety description even though i have it this might be a very personal to me kind of situation

It’s a team bonding day and Tony has dragged everyone out to a restaurant for dinner, you were anxious for it but you mentally prepared yourself and told yourself the usuals like ‘it’ll be over within a couple hours’ or ‘you don’t have to eat if you don’t feel like it.’ This time they weren’t working though.

As soon as you got into the car with Sam and Bucky either side of you and Natasha up front with the driver your palms started sweating and you felt nauseous and your flight or fight response was telling you to get out of there and run to your bed where you felt safe.

Bucky noticed your anxious demeanour instantly, you and him were really close as you were the recluses of the group, liking your own space and not being too fond of crowds or partying. He gently lay a hand on your thigh to let you know he was there, it was grounding and when he started stroking up and down your leg it took your mind off of the anxious feelings a little bit.

The car journey was manageable with Bucky doing everything he could to make you feel better like letting you fidget with his metal hand. When you arrived at the restaurant he helped you out of the car and the thoughts came racing back and you started pacing back and forth and flapping your hands to try calm yourself.

“Are you okay?” Sam had asked but you ignored him focusing on self soothing.

“You guys go on in i’ll stay here with her for a second” Bucky quietly told the concerned group before turning around and frowning at how anxious and worked up you were.

“Doll” He gently called out to you, knowing when you were like this you didn’t like talking.

“You don’t have to talk back okay? But i’m so proud of you for coming out tonight, I know you didn’t want to and I know it’s hard for you but no expectations okay? We can stay out here as long as you need to and even then if you don’t feel like seeing everyone I can get the driver to drop us back at the compound and we can do whatever you want.” His sweet voice helped sooth you a bit as you took deep breathes. After a few minutes you turned to look at him.

“What do you wanna do, sweetheart? Wanna Go home or do you wanna try the restaurant?” Bucky knew you’d already pushed yourself by getting in the car alone and he didn’t want to cause a complete meltdown by forcing you into another uncomfortable situation.

“I wanna try” You whisper quietly, you hated not being able to do normal things and lately had been trying to push yourself more and more.

“Okay” Bucky nodded and gave you a reassuring smile sticking his hand out for you in case you wanted to hold it but you shook your head and pointed to his metal one instead. He instantly understood that you found the cold metal to be soothing. You took his metal hand and a deep breathe and the both of you approached the restaurant.

“There they are!” Tony shouted as the both of you went to take your seats which were luckily next to each other, you tried your best to fake a smile as you sat down not letting go of Bucky’s hand.

Everyone was chatting away and laughing having fun, you were looking at the menu but the thought of even seeing food made you feel ill so you pushed it away and of course Bucky noticed.

“If you don’t eat here you promise me you’ll eat when we get home?” He asks, he doesn’t get upset if you don’t eat out as he understands when you’re anxious that’s the last thing you want to do. You nod in response and he kisses your temple as you lean your head on his shoulder still taking deep breathes because you want to be able to get through it.

A little while later as you’re still fiddling with Bucky’s metal hand you hear your name being called in the distance, eventually you snap out of it and notice Natasha is asking you a question, all eyes are on you all of a sudden and the weight of their gazes sends you into a panic and before you know what you’re doing you’re racing out of your chair and out of the restaurant letting the cool air hit you as you start to sweat and shake and cry not just because of the anxiety but because you couldn’t be normal and sit through a dinner.

Not even a minute later Bucky comes running out frantic but when his eyes land on you he lets out a sigh as he sees you crouching outside the restaurant dry heaving, it got too much for you. He can’t help but feel as if it’s partially his fault.

“It’s okay, i’m here, you’re okay” He reassures you as he keeps his distance as not to stress you out anymore.

“Wanna go home” You say through broken sobs and heavy breaths and he instantly pulls out his phone and tells the driver to pull up. You’re so out of it and disassociated you don’t notice him coaxing you up and into the car, buckling you in and sitting on the other side keeping a close eye on your shaking form.

When the car pulls up outside of the compound Bucky is quick to get out and go around the other side of the car to open the door and help you out. He walks you to your room and helps you get dressed into comfy clothes and wipe your makeup off, he settles you into bed and is about to leave when you grab his arm and silently ask him to stay, he understands straight away and climbs in beside you, holding you close. Laying your head on his chest listening to the soft beats of his heart, eventually you fall asleep feeling safe and relaxed knowing Bucky is there with you.

“Sleep well babydoll, I love you.” Bucky whispers into your hairline before giving you a soft kiss.

i kind of rushed the ending once they got in the car to get home because this has been in the drafts for days i’m sorry

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

perfectly un-ordinary

words: 4,979

ao3

Nancy’s soulmark is perfectly ordinary.

Just a simple bird on a branch. Birdie is written underneath it in loopy, neat handwriting. It fits neatly over two of her ribs, which is a perfectly normal place for it. Nothing extraordinary about it. Just a simple design that represents the nickname given to her soulmate by the most important person in her soulmate’s life. Typically, it’s the nickname that soulmates end up giving to each other, but the handwriting…isn’t Nancy’s.

The handwriting is Steve Harrington’s.

Whoever her soulmate is, Steve Harrington, at some point, will end up calling them Birdie.

Whoever her soulmate is, Steve Harrington will be the most important person in their life.

She stares down at the note in her locker, the all-too-familiar handwriting that makes the spot on her ribs burn, the sweet and surprisingly kind words from the most popular boy in school, who’s asking her out. Nancy can’t imagine her soulmate being someone like Tommy Hagan or Carol Perkins, because they’re awful, and she doesn’t even understand why Steve hangs out with them. But those are Steve’s closest friends.

Nancy goes out with him anyway, because he’s the most popular boy in school, and he’s gorgeous, and she figures she’s got time before he ends up calling someone else Birdie, which means she’ll eventually have to break up with him. But he’s good to her, and while she knows it’s doomed, it’s fun and new. It’s something easy, and they both know they might not last forever, because Steve makes a remark about how her handwriting is so tiny, says some cheesy line about how it must be hard to read her own soulmark, and she lets herself giggle along.

She doesn’t see Steve’s soulmark, not even when they’re both naked and tangled in his sheets; she figures it must be somewhere unique, somewhere out of the ordinary. But she’s careful, keeps hers covered. It’s not hard to, in the dark, if she keeps her upper arm by her side. She buys soulmark patches the next morning, because there’s that weird guilt in her gut, and she can’t make eye contact with herself in the mirror as she adheres the patch to her two ribs.

After the demogorgon, after Barb, after the lights and the gun and the nailbat, Nancy briefly entertains the idea that maybe Steve considers himself the most important person in his life, venomously thinks that, sitting with him at the Hollands’ dinner table, it wouldn’t be out of character for him to be that self-absorbed. She feels guilty almost immediately for thinking that, of course, but…it’s hard.

And when she learns on November first that she’d thrown the fact that they could never work in his face, that she knew they’d been doomed from the start and told him as much, told him he was bullshit, she gets defensive. Brushes him off.

He’s not really her soulmate anyway, so what does it matter?

She can’t imagine her soulmate is Jonathan, either, even with his lips on hers, her body under his, because he and Steve hate each other, but he’s sweet, he’s soft, he wants justice, justice the same way she does. He holds her like she’s something special, even though she can see the surfboard on his collarbone, the word Dude underneath it in Jonathan’s own handwriting. He’s like her, then, open to whatever gender his soulmate might be, boy or girl, and he isn’t afraid to show her things like that. He isn’t closed-off. Not like Steve was.

Steve.

God, Nancy still can’t believe he’d just given her a sad smile and told her to go with Jonathan. It bodes well for staying in his social circle, for perhaps eventually meeting the ever-elusive Birdie, though Nancy’s hope dwindles with every passing day Steve remains at a steady zero friends outside of their ragtag, world-saving group.

She hates that her soulmate is contingent on Steve staying in her life. She hates that he’ll probably have a hand in introducing them to her. She hates the way she still hasn’t apologized. Hates the way Mike says Steve’s name with a sneer every time he’s brought up in conversation, because her little brother is nothing if not loyal, and it hadn’t even been Steve’s fault, not really. Though Steve hadn’t exactly been the best boyfriend, he hadn’t deserved that.

If he’s the most important person in Nancy’s soulmate’s life, Nancy’s eventually going to have to swallow her pride and make amends.

But for now, she has Jonathan. She only has to worry about Jonathan. And she loves him, she thinks, in a way she hadn’t loved Steve. Maybe she hadn’t let herself, because she knew that it couldn’t be him, but she might not be letting herself love Jonathan the way he deserves, either. Maybe she’s not trying hard enough to understand his side of things when they get into an argument the summer before senior year, but she thinks of Dude and their surfboard, and she thinks he might not be letting himself love her the way she deserves, either.

She stops bothering with the soulmark patches that night. Nancy figures that it’s not worth the hassle anymore, if Jonathan’s just gonna keep being his same bullheaded self. So she sets her jaw and keeps investigating, because that’s what she’s good at, and it gets her into a whole heaping helping of trouble. By the end of it, though, after the flesh monster and Russians under the mall, she and Jonathan have more than made up.

And he’s good to her. He’s good to her like no one else has been, he’s safe. He’s familiar enough that it gives her the comfort to get through the rest of the summer. They even make plans to apply to the same colleges—hopefully Emerson, Nancy’s got her fingers crossed that they’ll both be early acceptance—but Jonathan’s moving away. It’ll be harder, the long distance, but Nancy thinks it’ll be worth it to try.

They’ve been through too much together not to try, right? Screw Steve and his Birdie, Nancy will find a way to bend those letters until they read Jon in Will’s handwriting, until the bird on the branch becomes a camera, she’ll do it out of spite, she’ll find a way. Who cares if their relationship isn’t universe-approved? They’re good. They’re familiar. They’re comfortable.

Jonathan calls her in December, after the Byers’ move. Tells her that he found someone whose soulmark is a camera. J-Man to match his Dude. Nancy grits her teeth and tells him she’s happy for him. He whispers that he still loves her, but. But. She wishes him luck with his soulmate and hangs up, spending the rest of the break holed up in her room.

It’s not until the day after New Years that Mike finally snaps.

“You’re a hermit,” he snaps at her when she slips out of her room to get a glass of water, which means he’s worried about her. She scowls at him, though, because she doesn’t want his worry, his pity. Mike rolls his jaw. “You’re—I get that you’re sad about Jonathan dumping you, but you can’t just—”

“He found his soulmate,” Nancy cuts in hollowly.

Mike blinks, shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, all embarrassed, and Nancy just nods. She’s tired. She’s long since gone back to using the soulmark patches. She doesn’t need to see Steve Harrington’s handwriting mocking her in the mirror. Mike nudges at her ankle with his socked foot. “That sucks.”

She knows Mike doesn’t know how it feels, because he doesn’t have his soulmark yet. He’ll get it next year, sure—and he’s really cocky about guessing that it’s El—but he doesn’t get it yet. He’s been a real asshole, lately, more so than usual, and he smells gross most of the time, doesn’t bother with deodorant if he’s staying at home for the day, and he’s been hanging out with that guy that stands on the cafeteria tables too much, because he’s been dramatic as hell.

But he’s being kind to her now, even if his kindness is a little awkwardly stilted.

“My soulmark handwriting isn’t mine,” she confesses. She doesn’t know why she’s telling him. Their mom doesn’t even know. She’s never shown her own mother her soulmark. “It’s…the most important person in their life isn’t me. I thought I might eventually be Jonathan’s, that we could’ve—it’s stupid. Fucking…forget it.”

“No,” Mike says, all furrowed brows and determination. “It’s important.”

Nancy’s eyes start to well with tears, embarrassingly enough. “I wished it would change,” she whispers. “After Starcourt, I wished it would change. I wanted it to be a camera. I wanted to have different handwriting on my skin. I wanted to change it through…sheer will or some shit? I don’t know.”

Mike nods, like he gets it, even if he doesn’t. “What is it?” he asks, because he has no manners, in spite of their parents’ best efforts. At the hesitation that must show on Nancy’s face, Mike winces, backtracks. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But…does anybody else know what it is?”

Shaking her head, Nancy sniffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “No. I used soulmark patches ’til Starcourt, but…Jonathan didn’t see it after, either,” she says.

Mike makes a face. “Oh, is it on, like, a gross part of your body? ’Cuz if that’s the case, I do not wanna see it—”

“Shut up, Mike,” Nancy laughs, “it’s on my ribs.”

Humming, Mike nods. “Suits you,” he says, and he doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t know what he means by that. But it’s nice nonetheless. She’s never heard it before. Mike tilts his head. “You wanna show me?”

Nancy bites her bottom lip. “Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, yanking the side of her shirt up just enough to show her bottom two ribs, and she picks at the soulmark patch that covers Birdie and the branch. “Just don’t, like, be an asshole about it, okay?”

Uncharacteristically serious, Mike nods again and keeps his eyes on her ribs as she peels the patch off. “Do you know whose handwriting it is?” he asks, and Nancy swallows.

“No,” she lies, and he lets her.

“It’s cool,” Mike decides, and Nancy lets her shirt fall. There’s a long moment where neither of them say anything, and Nancy takes the time the silence occupies to fill that glass of water she’d wanted. As she sips on it, Mike rocks on his heels and avoids her eye. “For what it’s worth, El’s probably gonna have your handwriting calling me a dick or something.”

Nancy’s heart seizes. “Oh,” she chokes. “Then, I—I think Birdie probably has yours.”

“Gross. I don’t like it when you’re sappy,” Mike groans, but there’s the hint of a smile on his face.

“You started it,” she scoffs.

Mike wrinkles his nose up at her. “Did not.”

She grins. “Did too.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Whatever. Loser.”

Nancy goes into the New Year with a little less weight on her shoulders.

Then, because apparently she’s not allowed to relax for extended periods of time anymore, her spring break goes to hell. There’s a dead cheerleader, then a dead friend subordinate, and then she’s taking Robin to go investigate a shot-in-the-dark lead. Robin, Steve’s not-girlfriend, ends up finding something really worthwhile, and something new and exciting turns in Nancy’s gut when Robin goes on a tirade in the director’s office. She’s interested, intrigued, even, and she chocks it up to journalistic instinct for now, because she has more important things to worry about.

And Steve does his stupid heroics, diving into Lover’s Lake, and Robin and Eddie are too busy panicking, so Nancy jumps in first.

It’s only because no one else is going to.

It isn’t because of Birdie.

It isn’t because of Birdie, who she’s never met. It isn’t because if Steve dies, Birdie loses the most important person in their life. It isn’t because she cares whether Steve’s handwriting under the bird and the branch changes to someone else’s. It isn’t because of Robin’s voice cracking as she screams Steve’s name in panic. Nancy isn’t that selfless.

So it’s only because she’s got to be the leader.

That same reasoning is also why she wraps Steve’s wounds. If he bleeds out in the Upside Down because he decided to play the hero, she’s going to kill him. His death would be a major inconvenience, that’s all. That’s all it is.

Nancy stays with Robin, because Steve seems to be having a crisis that Eddie is not helping, and maybe it’s a little vindictive to leave a stressed-out Steve with the guy that refuses to respect his personal space, but Nancy is stressed out, too, and can’t bring herself to feel guilty about it. And Robin is funny, makes a joke about Nancy needing to hire a maid in the Upside Down version of her house. Nancy’s glad she’d decided to keep Robin company rather than either of the two boys.

Not that she has anything against Eddie, save for his theatrics. And her grudge against Steve is almost entirely baseless at this point. Whatever. Emotions take too much effort to parse through, and Nancy has to save that effort for sawing the end off a shotgun.

Which is not-so-technically a felony.

Steve tells her that his dream, with the six kids that Nancy doesn’t want and the white picket fence that makes Nancy nauseous, was about her.

“You’re not my soulmate,” she tells him, grim and annoyed. They have more important things to handle than his desperate, end-of-the-world delirium driven by blood loss and his crippling fear of dying alone.

“Right, yeah, I know that,” he says, ears tinged red with embarrassment. “Sorry to—”

“I don’t want an apology,” she snaps. “I want to kill Vecna.”

Steve nods, gestures for her to move ahead. “Let’s—so let’s go, then,” he says, and he sounds so horribly distraught. “Robin’s, um—she’s probably waiting on us to catch up.”

Nancy moves ahead wordlessly. She doesn’t want Steve’s advances, isn’t interested in rekindling things. She has no idea why he’s trying to fan flames that are nonexistent on her end, why he seems so confused at his own actions, and she doesn’t really care to find out. Not when they have to kill Henry Creel, not when there’s so much on the line.

And they do.

Kill Henry Creel, that is.

Not without consequence. Not without Steve carrying a barely-alive Eddie out of the Upside Down, and not without Max breaking three of her four limbs. But they’re both still alive, albeit in the hospital, Hawkins is still intact, and Nancy will count it as a win. Hopefully, it’s the final win. She can’t imagine having to go through something like this again.

The Byers family comes back into town, Mike, El, Murray, and Hopper in tow, the last of which is incredibly surprising, though through a long explanation about a Russian prison and an escape helicopter, Nancy supposes it makes sense. Things are tense and awkward between her and Jonathan, and between Jonathan and Mike, for whatever reason, and Nancy’s too focused on putting together a cover story with Owens that’ll clear Eddie’s name to bother with all that.

Birdie remains uninvestigated on her ribs, at least for a while.

She gets closer with Robin and Eddie, and getting closer with Robin means patching things up with Steve, because the two are virtually inseparable. It’s a painful and drawn-out conversation, full of begrudging apologies,  painful stitches over a wound that’s gone untended for too long. It sucks, but it’s necessary. Nancy knows it’s necessary, and not just for the sake of her friendship with Robin, not just for Birdie’s sake, but for her own, as well.

And for Steve’s. She’d hurt him, after all, and he’d been owed an apology for a long time.

They’re smoking in Eddie’s new government-gifted trailer—something Nancy had never thought she’d ever be doing—the first time the topic of soulmates-slash-soulmarks is brought up in their new little friend group.

“Have any of you guys met your soulmate?” Eddie asks, taking a long drag from the joint, and Robin shifts uncomfortably.

“I think I have,” she murmurs, “but I don’t know. I feel like…like my soulmate would’ve said, you know? But it’s a pretty common nickname for a pretty common name, so…”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Plus, it sucks when your soulmark’s handwriting isn’t your own, because then you have to rely on other people’s nicknames for your soulmate,” he groans, and Nancy sits up straighter. Eddie passes the joint to Steve. “And, like, then you have to ask people what their handwriting looks like, which makes them give you the saddest looks you’ve ever seen.”

“No one’s seen my soulmark but Mike,” Nancy says quietly. “So…at least I get what the first part’s like.”

“Your soulmark has someone else’s handwriting?” Steve asks her around a mouthful of smoke, and he sounds curious with just a hint of hurt, like he can’t believe she hasn’t told them. “D’you know whose it is?”

Nancy just shrugs.

“My soulmark has someone else’s handwriting, too,” Robin says. “I don’t know whose handwriting it is, either.”

There’s a little bit of guilt Nancy feels at that, because Robin and Eddie clearly think she’s able to commiserate with them about not being the most important person in their soulmates’ lives and not knowing who that other person is, but she can’t, because she knows exactly who that person is, and he’s in the room with them. Nancy takes the joint when Steve passes it to her and takes a quick pull, coughing slightly.

Eddie grins wolfishly at the sound. She flips him off. “Look, all I know is that when I meet my soulmate, we’re gonna have some words,” Eddie jokes, and Nancy laughs along with Steve and Robin. Eddie nods at the rest of them. “What do your marks look like? You don’t have to show it if you don’t want to, I’m just curious.”

Neither Robin nor Steve make any move to show theirs.

“It’s a bird,” Nancy says. “I, um—it’s a weird nickname. I don’t even know if—”

She cuts herself off. She can’t come out and say that she doesn’t know whether Steve’s even met Birdie yet. Mercifully, no one presses further.

“Mine’s a chart,” Eddie offers. “There’s, like, two categories, and whoever wrote them has the same handwriting as the, uh…the nickname.”

“A chart?” Robin asks, brows furrowed. “What kinda chart?”

“It’s just on, like, a piece of paper or something, I don’t know,” Eddie huffs with a frustrated shrug, and Steve lays back until his head’s on Robin’s lap.

“I know who mine is,” he says quietly.

That’s news to all of them, it would seem.

Immediately, Eddie and Robin jump into hounding him about who it is, and Nancy is content to sit back and let it happen until Steve’s face screws up into an expression she only remembers from hazy, drunken memories. “Both of you, shut up!” she says, and they do, because even outside of the Upside Down, her voice carries some authority.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs.

Nancy nods.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you figured it out,” Robin tuts, and Steve reaches up to tap her nose with his pointer finger.

“You’ve seen his soulmark?” Eddie asks her, and Robin nods, a glint in her eye Nancy recognizes as the same glint she’d had there during her speech in the director’s office.

It makes Nancy’s face go hot.

It’s clear that Steve doesn’t want to keep talking about it, so Nancy pushes the conversation towards a debate on what movie they’ll be watching that night. As Robin and Eddie bicker, she locks eyes with Steve, who gives her a small, grateful smile. It feels good, feels like the real beginning of a genuine friendship.

And Nancy isn’t used to having this many friends. Sure, she’s surrounded by people at the school newspaper, but now she’s got people to walk through the halls with at school, people to sit next to in the cafeteria, and she hasn’t had that since…well, since Barb. It’s been years since she’s had a sleepover with friends, and she’s been having them almost every other day. It’s warm, and it’s good, and Nancy feels like she has a community to fall back on, people her age who really get her. It’s wonderful and nerve-wracking all at once.

“Whose handwriting is on your soulmark?” Steve asks her on a warm spring evening in April, while Robin and Eddie are bustling away in the kitchen in Steve’s big house.

For some reason, Nancy finds herself feeling comfortable enough to tell the truth. “Yours,” she says, a quiet confession, and he blinks in surprise.

“I’m the most important person in someone’s life? Someone other than my soulmate?” he asks, barely above a whisper, and she can’t help herself—she hugs him.

It’s not long after that before Eddie approaches her in a frenzied hurricane of hair, gangly limbs, and just a touch of panic.

“I think I need to show you my soulmark,” he tells her, and before she can get a word in edgewise, because he has just burst rather unceremoniously into her bedroom, Eddie starts to pace. “Because, I—well, it’s complicated, because I think I figured out who it is, and if I’m right, then it means things might be awkward between you and me, but I also don’t think they will…? I mean, he says he’s over—and you say you’re over—”

“Eddie,” Nancy says, “slow down.”

Eddie unbuckles his pants. Nancy whirls her head away.

“No, it’s not—! Look!” Eddie tells her, and Nancy puts her hands over her eyes, peeking through her fingers at him.

There’s a big square on his hip with two columns—the chart, she realizes as she puts her hands down—and the titles on each column read You Rule and You Suck with some tallies under the second column, but none under the first. In the same handwriting, Dingus is scrawled underneath it. Nancy’s seen that handwriting before. It’s the same handwriting from the notes she’d borrowed from Robin the other day because she’d skipped out on first period to chase a scoop.

“Your soulmate is Steve,” she realizes.

Eddie lets out a pained sort of noise. “And it’s—and you—! But you guys aren’t, so I figured it’d be fine, but—!” he cuts himself off with another pained half-scream, redoing his pants.

“Steve and Robin are the most important people in each other’s lives,” Nancy breathes.

Birdie.

“I know! And I’m not—I don’t want to disrespect that, I’m just—Nancy, I’m freaking out!” Eddie says through clenched teeth.

“Steve is the most important person in Robin’s life,” Nancy whimpers.

Birdie. Bird on a branch. Steve’s handwriting.

Robin. A robin on a branch.

Birdie.

“Okay, I feel like our crises are branching a little here,” Eddie says, hands steepled over his mouth, and Nancy whips her shirt off. Eddie mimics her earlier actions, turning on his heel in the other direction immediately. “Woah, Wheeler, I do not need to see—”

“My soulmark—my soulmate—Eddie, look,” she tells him.

Eddie winces as he turns around, and Nancy jabs a finger pointedly at her ribs. “Birdie,” Eddie reads aloud. His eyes go wide. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Steve’s soulmark is the only one of ours that isn’t different handwriting,” she reminds him. “Are you…okay with not being the most important—”

“Wheeler, I’m not stupid enough to hope to come close to Robin,” Eddie tells her. “Are…you okay with it? I mean, it’s different for you, someone’s apparently more important to you, too.”

Nancy’s mind flashes back to that conversation in the kitchen after New Years. “I’m okay with it,” she says, because she is. “Is—do either of them—”

“Steve knows,” Eddie says. “He knows and he didn’t tell me—”

“That’s not because you’re you, it’s because he’s self-sabotaging,” Nancy says. “But Robin said she thought she might know—”

“None of that from you, either,” Eddie snaps. “This isn’t a goddamn pity party.”

Nancy balks. “Then what the hell is it?”

Eddie waves his hands out manically. “I don’t know!”

Nancy throws her shirt back on, flops back against her bed. “Shit,” she grits out, “we should tell them. We have to.”

The mattress dips beside her. “Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “We do.”

“Does soulmark handwriting ever change?” Nancy wonders. “Not that I’m—like you said, I’d never hope for it, I’m just curious.”

“It’s ridiculously rare, but my uncle’s soulmate’s did,” Eddie whispers. “It changed from his soulmate’s to mine the day I was sent to live with him.”

Nancy can’t help but smile at that. It’s sweet. “If that’s the case, I think Mike’s future soulmate might have to cycle through, like, five different handwritings depending on who’s pissed him off the least that day,” she jokes, and Eddie laughs.

Silence washes over them. It’s comfortable, even if it’s unlike Eddie to be so silent.

He threads his fingers through hers. “Fuck it. Maybe we’ll eventually be each other’s most important people,” Eddie muses. “Y’know, since our soulmates are attached at the hip, we’ll probably end up like that, too.”

Nancy thinks she wouldn’t mind that all too much.

She ends up taking a page out of Steve’s book, surprisingly enough, and making her way to Robin’s second-story bedroom window that very same night. When she taps on the glass, Robin falls out of her chair and ends up scrambling over on all fours to open the window up. It’s so unbelievably charming. Robin helps her in, and the feel of her skin against Nancy’s makes her shudder, so thrilling that Nancy’s grin probably makes her seem like a crazy person.

“Jesus Christ, Nance, what are you doing here?” Robin hisses. “You probably could have come in the front door, I don’t think my parents really care—”

“I needed to talk to you. Didn’t have time for pleasantries,” Nancy says, breathless. “You’re—I need to tell you something. Something important.”

Robin goes a little pale. “Oh, shit, is this, like, a Code Red situation? Are we—did it come back?” she whispers, and Nancy shakes her head.

“No, it’s good, I—at least, I hope you think it’s good,” Nancy says, and Robin quirks a confused smile at her. Nancy pulls the side of her shirt up carefully. “I…have reason to think this nickname belongs to you.”

Robin’s hand is trembling as she reaches out to brush her fingers against the lettering, tracing the shape of the bird on the branch. The robin on the branch. Warmth spreads from the spot on the mark Robin had touched. “I—it’s you? I get to have you as my soulmate?” Robin asks, and she makes it sound like a profound honor, like it’s too good to be true, like Nancy is worth that much love.

“If you’ll have me,” Nancy whispers. “I’m stubborn and judgemental and I’ve hurt people, I’m too single-minded sometimes and it makes me withdraw into myself. I’m not good at loving other people and I make bad decisions and—”

“You’re everything,” Robin tells her.

It’s too much.

“I’ve been self-destructing about my soulmate since I got my mark,” Nancy tells her. “I thought—I dated Steve, knowing it was his handwriting, a-and then I dated Jonathan, knowing it couldn’t be him, and I’m so glad it wasn’t either of them, because you’re—Robin, you’re smart and you’re driven and you’re so, so kind to me. You’re beautiful.”

Robin’s breath hitches. “Nancy—”

“I don’t want to self-destruct with you,” Nancy says. “And I won’t. I don’t think you’d let me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Robin agrees. “I like you too much for that.”

“Let me see yours?” Nancy asks, and Robin nods, face flushed as she rolls up her pyjama pant leg to reveal her upper thigh.

There’s a spiral of memo pad pages surrounding a gorgeous fountain pen, and Nance is scrawled down the side of Robin’s thigh in Mike’s handwriting. Nancy traces the lines of the pages with her fingers, slides her palm over the pen. It’s beautiful. Intricate. As detailed as her own, and that makes something warm blossom in Nancy’s chest.

To her surprise, Robin’s mark fills with color, and the two of them watch in awe as ink splotches start to appear on the pages. Robin gasps. “Nancy, the bird—”

Nancy looks down, at where she’s still keeping her shirt raised, and sure enough, it’s the colors of an actual robin. “Holy shit,” Nancy breathes, more excited than she thinks she’s ever been in her entire life. Her eyes lock with Robin’s. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Robin says, voice hoarse, and Nancy surges forward, letting go of her shirt so she can keep one hand on Robin’s thigh, on Robin’s soulmark, while cupping her face with the other.

Their lips meet, and it’s wonderful. Nancy hums contentedly as Robin’s mouth moves against hers, slow and gentle. Her hands flit up to link around the back of Nancy’s neck, and her cheek grows warmer under Nancy’s touch. Robin’s clearly not a very experienced kisser, but Nancy doesn’t mind at all, perfectly content to nip at Robin’s bottom lip and draw pretty little noises from her throat. Robin pulls back after a moment to catch her breath, and Nancy smiles at her.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she murmurs.

Robin beams at her. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

And just like that, Nancy doesn’t think her soulmark is very ordinary at all anymore.