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threestarsinline · 10 months ago

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Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part II)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 15.5K (total of 29.2K)

Category: More fluff for you all (yes, more jsjs), (plus slight angst related to mutual pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers and typical Gotham villain stuff)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here you go babes, the second (and final) part to what once was just a one-shot but that became so long that I had to split it up (despite how much it broke my heart to do so). Hope you enjoy it!

<Part I

After that night at the dinner (that you didn’t ever want to end, though of course, sadly, it had to), everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, while you scanned the children’s books, as you knew what they were for now, you asked how the kids were doing.

Except that now, a lot of times when he came in the afternoons, Jason stayed in the bookshop with you until you closed, keeping you company.

Except that now, sometimes Jason brought food with him and had lunch with you.

Except that now, you texted each other practically everyday, carrying on conversations from the bookshop and talking about everything.

Except that now, your heart, instead of giving little jumps, it run whole laps every time you saw him.

And right now, you’re buzzing with nerves.

Because you don’t know where the line stands anymore, having become blurrier and blurrier with each smile, every longing look and every soft touch on his arm or the small of your back when you pass each other a lot closer than what is necessary.

And now you’re bouncing behind the counter, wondering if what you are about to do today is too much.

When that white streak that you love so much makes its way through the door, you can hardly wait to show him what you’ve found. Jason, like always, greets you with a smile and goes directly to the counter, not bothering with excuses anymore.

“There you are!” You exclaim, barely containing your excitement.

“Hi to you too.” He chuckles at your warm welcome as he finishes approaching the counter.

“I found it.” You say with a grin. Surprise makes its way across Jason’s features, immediately knowing what you were talking about.

“You did?” He asks in disbelief. You nod proudly and from under the counter, you slip out the third and last installment of a book series about the adventures of Daisy the giraffe. In the store you only had the first and the second one and the kids loved them. They had read both several times but were unable to see how the story ended since the books were quite old and very hard to find.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” Jason continues as he takes the book from your hands that are extending it to him. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” He looks back up at you with shining eyes. “How did you do it?” You shrug your shoulders.

“I just tracked it down.” You answer. The truth was that it had taken a lot of time and effort to find it but the kids’ joy and how happy you felt right now made it all worth it.

“You did a lot more than that, believe me. The kids are going to love it.” Jason says, glancing back at the book and then at you once again, his eyes full of admiration. “Thank you.” He adds almost breathlessly.

You nod in acknowledgement with a bright smile.

Jason had faced a lot of impossible situations during his life. Hardships that proved difficult to endure. From his days in the streets, to his Robin training and to his patrols as Red Hood.

But right now Jason feared that he may have found his greatest enemy. A problem hard to solve. A feat that will not be easy to achieve.

These damn braids.

Jason’s eyebrows are furrowed and he clenches his jaw in concentration. Despite having asked for help and Cass and Steph having taught him, he still was having trouble french braiding Lily’s hair.

He was in the area and decided to check on the kids, even though they didn't have a reading scheduled. After greeting the few that were there, Lily grabbed his hand and monopolized him.

She had asked him a few times to do her hair and he had tried but without much knowledge it had proved to be a disaster. At least now, even though it still felt a bit like an uphill climb, it seemed that his new skills were getting him somewhere.

They were sitting on some crates on the floor, Lily in front of him playing with her teddy and telling him his latest adventures as Batbear, making him chuckle at her great imagination.

He was working on the second braid when suddenly Lily fell into silence, deep in thought. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she finally spoke up.

“Do you like Y/N?” Lily asked, with the blunt curiosity characteristic of children her age.

Jason’s hands freeze on her blonde hair.

“Why do you ask?” Jason asks back nervously, afraid to give a clear response, as if after hearing it, Lily would run over to wherever you were to tell you. But she just shrugs her shoulders, lifting Batbear in her arms and examining his button-like eyes.

“She’s nice and funny.”

“Yeah, she is.” He coincides while slowly continuing to work on the braid.

“I like her. The other day she brought us all cookies from a bakery. They were delicious.” Lily continues, her voice acquiring a dreamy tone at the delightful memory.

Jason’s hands freeze once again. He had no idea you had done that. You hadn’t mentioned it to him. You had gone out of your way to buy treats for the kids and come here on your own on a non reading day.

Jason stands still on his seat, his gaze lost and thoughts clouded with you. He didn’t think that he could admire you more than what he already did, yet here he was, even more entranced by your kind nature.

“So you like her then?” Lily insists. She says it more in an innocent way rather than in the romantic sense, like when you meet a friend of a friend and they asked you if you liked hanging out with them. Just as Lily finishes her question, he ties up her braid and Lily turns her head, feeling him finish his work.

She catches sight of her reflection on a dirty window and lets out a delightful squeal that makes Jason jump in surprise. In an instant, the little girl is on her feet and admiring her hair from side to side, Batbear still in her grip.

Jason grimaces when he sees how the top of one of the braids is already starting to loosen and worries about what Lily will say. He still clearly needs more practice. But then-

“I love it!” Lily screams and Jason grins at her happiness. Ha, success. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She says in quick succession in a way in which the words jumble together and turns to give him a bone crushing hug, surprising for how little she is, and a sounding kiss on his cheek.

Then Lily sets off running, probably to show her friends her new hair, laughing all the way, completely forgetting about her earlier question. Jason can’t help but laugh under his breath too. He loves those kids.

He stands up and shakes his hands over his jeans to get rid of any possible dirt from the crate.

“Yeah, I like her very much.” Jason whispers, answering Lily’s question. His thoughts, as they usually tended to do, drifting back to you.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You ask him another day when he enters the bookshop with a black eye. He opens his mouth to answer but you interrupt him. “Let me guess, boxing again?” You say with eyebrows raised in a playful manner so that he doesn’t need to worry about a fake excuse. But he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not this time, no.”

“No? Impossible.”

“Okay so, turns out that Damian, for whatever reason that I still cannot comprehend, threw his phone at Tim. But Tim ducked and guess who was passing behind him in that exact moment just peacefully enjoying his bowl of cereal?”

“No way.” You say breathlessly, a smile already pulling at your lips and a laugh making its way up your throat.

He nods and sees you put a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your laughter. The sight makes him smile, despite the fact that the movement pulls at the swelling of his cheek under his eye, making him wince slightly at the pain.

“Sorry.” You say, failing miserably in containing your laughter.

“It’s okay, go ahead. It is funny.”

You then finally burst out laughing and Jason feels his heart swell, the sound having become his favorite in the whole world, like listening to his favorite song. And he can’t help but join in your laughter too.

“Though I did drop my precious bowl of cereal.” He adds with an exaggerated pout and you laugh even more, making him feel a radiating warmth that not even the sun could equal to.

“Oh, poor Jason.” You say.

As your laughters finally slowly die down, you round the counter and lift your hands to hold the sides of his face, turning him to see the eye better in the light.

“Are you okay though?” You ask in a low voice, serious now, almost like a whisper.

And with your hands holding him, Jason thinks that he will always be okay, no matter if he's drowning or bleeding to death.

“Yeah.” He whispers back.

Were you this close just a second before? He can clearly see how the lights of the bookshop reflect in your eyes now.

“Did you put something over it?” He nods. You tilt your head, not sure to believe him with how he hadn’t really treated the wounds on his knuckles that one time.

“Some ice.” You manage to coax out of him and you shake your head and click your tongue in slight disappointment.

“Not enough.” You say, and just like that one time, with the bookshop empty except for you two, you guide him into the break room by his hand, sit him down and bring the first aid kit. You take an ointment from it and stand in front of him. You look down at him, asking for permission with your eyes and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

One of your hands takes hold of his face to tilt him to the light and the tips of your fingers on the other start applying the ointment softly to help with the swelling.

Jason’s hands twitch to place themselves on your hips to bring you even closer but he grabs his own knees instead. He doesn’t have the right to do something like that. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.

No matter how much he might want to.

So he contents himself with looking into your eyes that are concentrated on his wound.

He can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his with how close you are and he can’t help but close his eyes to savor it even further.

He has never felt safer.

The silence of the intimate moment is deafening in the best of ways. He would gladly stay like this forever.

But then, just like a crack of thunder, cold surrounds him once again as you whisper that you’re done and retract your hands from him. You wash your hands in the faucet of the kitchen part of the break room and Jason follows your every movement hypnotized.

“Better?” You say as you return and sit in front of him.

With you? Always.

“Yeah.” He breathes out and he isn’t lying. He can already feel the swelling going down. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders.

It’s like you don’t see how much you do for him, and not just for tending his wounds. Just everything in general. Your laugh. Your long conversations. And it kills him. It kills him that you may not know just how much he cares about you.

And it kills him even more that he doesn’t have the courage to tell you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You say and quickly get up to grab a heavy looking bag from the corner before coming back. “I went to my parents’ last weekend and I got these books that I thought the kids might like.” You start as you take the contents of the bag out and put them on the table for him to see.

He notices how you worry your lip and how your shoulders tense and he wonders why you’re suddenly like that. He then looks towards the several books displayed on the table in front of you two.

“Most of them are bedtime stories. My mom used to read them to me.” You start and then your small posture and uncertain tone clicks. You’re shy about this. Almost ashamed that he might think that this is something ridiculous.

As if he could think anything negative about you.

“They’re not much but I loved them when I was little.” You continue and as you tell him more about them, he can see with how much fondness you remember them and how excited you are to talk about them. The insecurity seems to leave your whole body as you get lost in your explanation of the books.

Two of them are quite thick and you tell him that they have several different stories, from a prince and a princess that could only meet at sunrise or sunset since one of them could only be in the light of the moon and the other in the light of the sun. And that if they were exposed to the other light, due to a spell, they would die; to a story about a mother reading to his son.

Another couple of them follow the adventures of a mole at his house and at the beach and the books include a small mole cut-out that you move across the pages to make him follow the story. Another one is about a boy and his dog that go on a great adventure thanks to a magical blue balloon.

As he listens intently, he marvels at you. You really were the most thoughtful, kind and beautiful person that he had ever met and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He has to resist the urge to close the space between you and kiss you right there and then. But he decides against it. He liked how everything was going with you and he didn’t want to ruin it by suddenly rushing and risking everything.

Aside from the fact that you still didn’t know about a part of his life that he’s sure would make you push him away and send you running. Even though every time that he thinks about it, he’s considering telling you more and more, wanting to be completely sincere and honest with you, knowing how much you valued that.

“Sorry, that was a lot. This probably was a bad idea.” You say after you finish explaining all the books. You’re about to start picking them up to put them back in the bag when you feel his hand enclosing over one of your own, softly stopping you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“No. These are great, Y/N. I love them and I’m sure that the kids will too. Thank you for sharing them.” He says looking into your eyes. You were sharing with him and the kids a very personal part of you that you held very close to your heart. And he wanted you to know how much he appreciated it.

He also gives your hand a small squeeze to show you how much he means his words and to encourage you. After a moment, you smile and nod.

“Tell me more.” He says.

At his genuine petition, you can’t do anything but carry on, your radiant smile matching his. “Okay.”

It had been a long time since you had played any of these types of games. But you really do not remember being so bad at it.

After the reading that day, the kids had suggested (or rather insisted) on playing hide and seek.

So here you were, running around the playground trying to find a good place to hide all while questioning your life choices.

Had you really been this bad at hide and seek as a kid? Then again, it is quite easier when you’re much smaller and you can fit almost anywhere. Try doing that as an adult.

You turn a corner of the nearby buildings, entering into a small passage between the back of it and a wall separating the playground zone from the rest of the block. You know that Lily has had to have finished counting already. You don’t have much time left.

In the passage there are some piled up crates leaning against the wall. You consider hiding behind them though you know that it’s not the best hiding place. However, you’re already here and you can’t risk going back into the open space of the playground if you don’t want to get caught.

Just as you start moving towards them a voice whispers your name.

You turn and find that the building has a small space that cuts into it with a back door. Due to the afternoon light, the space is covered in shadows and leaning against the wall you find Jason, hiding.

You can’t believe that you missed him with his impressive build.

But the place seems to work as a great hiding place, almost in plain sight yet easy to miss. So, when Jason extends a hand inviting you into it, you don’t think twice before taking it.

Next thing you know, your back rests in one of the walls carved into the building that lead to the door and Jason is positioned in front of you in a way that, even if Lily were to pass by and notice you, she would only see him. At least at first.

Jason leans his head out of the space for a second to check if anyone is coming and then he comes back in front of you.

And then your breathing hitches in your throat when you realize just how close you are, even though there is plenty of space in the small opening of the building for you two to stand next to each other without problem. Yet both of you remain in your current position, not daring (nor wanting) to move a muscle.

Suddenly all your nerves are alive and buzzing, your senses heightened and all you can see, hear and feel, is him.

You're hyper aware of everywhere that he’s touching you.

His left hand on your waist.

His right arm at your side, brushing up against yours, shielding you from view.

Your chests almost touching each other.

Your hands on his shoulders, even though you have no idea how they ended up there. The urge to bring him even closer to you, practically irresistible.

You look up to find that his green gaze is already on you. Up this close you notice that there is a slight shade of aquamarine blue in them.

You feel lightheaded and dizzy but in the best of ways. It’s like you’re drunk, even though you have never actually drunk enough to feel like this.

You realize then that you’re drunk on him. You want to drown in him.

Then the scent of his cologne reaches you and you know that you’re intoxicated with this man in front of you.

And the best part is that he seems just as intoxicated with you.

You don’t know how you two get even closer but then his nose is brushing up against yours, your breaths mixing together.

He’s leaning a bit over you so maybe you should feel a bit crowded but you don’t.

You feel safe.

The safest that you have ever been. And the thing is that it doesn't even surprise you. Everything feels easy and safe and warm with him.

Like nothing could ever happen to you with him by your side.

And you’re absolutely addicted to the feeling.

Jason is breathless, as if he has just run a marathon. His breathing as heavy as yours.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest with how fast it’s going, thrill and anticipation pumping through your veins instead of blood.

Your gaze drops and you suck in a breath when he wets his lips.

Your own tongue darts out to mimic his movement on your own, when you realize that they’re already wet and that he was the one mirroring your previous action.

Your eyes go back up to his and notice that his pupils are dilated. You can’t help but think that yours look probably the same.

It seems like he’s asking a question with that mesmerizing gaze of his and your throat feels dry, as if you haven’t been able to drink water in days and the only person that can alleviate it is Jason Todd.

His gaze flits to your lips once again and returns to your eyes just as fast and they seem to be pleading you.

You can feel yourself nodding almost imperceptibly.

You’re not sure you have wanted anything more in your life. Your stomach flips.

You close your eyes, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

And then-

“Got you!” Lily’s voice rings out, like shattering glass, breaking the spell and bursting the perfect bubble that you two were in, before your lips are able to make any real contact.

And just like that, you deflate like an old balloon forgotten by a kid in a fair.

You have never been more frustrated in your entire life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regain your senses, letting your pounding heart beat out the drug that the proximity to Jason Todd is, in order to come back to reality.

When you finally open your eyes, Jason looks just as frustrated and disappointed as you.

Your faces part, putting distance once again between them though your hands remain on his shoulders and his remain on your waist. Part of yourselves still refusing to let go of what had been about to happen, both of your breathings still heavy and deep.

“Come on, it’s your turn now!” Lily exclaims impatiently. She’s too excited about being able to hide now to really notice what was going on between you two.

“We-” Jason stops at how hoarse his voice is and clears his throat. “We’ll be right there.” He finally continues, though his gaze is still fixed on you.

“Great!” Lily chirps and she leaves the way she came, Batbear like always, tight in her grip.

You watch her go and when you look back up at Jason both of you have shy and embarrassed smiles. Sad for the moment that has left and unsure of how to proceed now.

You both suppose that keeping things how they are is the best course of action so very slowly and very reluctantly your hands leave each other. Not sure what to do with them now, since they still feel like magnets being pulled towards each other, Jason runs his hands through his hair and you fix your already perfectly placed clothes.

But as you two make your way towards the center of the playground, you both are hopeful that the moment will come again.

The road might have a few bumps on the way but it still goes on.

Jason didn’t know how it had gotten so late. He had meant to stop by the bookshop earlier and hopefully, after you closed, go grab dinner with you, as you two sometimes did now. But he had got caught up with patrol stuff with Bruce and now he would be lucky if he managed to catch you before you left.

Thankfully, he’s able to reach the bookshop twenty minutes before you close. But when he enters, you are nowhere to be seen.

Rose and Jimmy are behind the counter, chattering between them and just like every time that he went into the bookshop and you weren’t there, he felt his whole body deflate. The idea of seeing you always being his driving force.

But just like that other time when he entered knowing that you worked that day but Rose had greeted him, worry begins to settle in him. Had something happened that had made you change your shift? Were you sick?

“Hello, Jason!” Jimmy says when he and Rose notice him.

“Good evening, dear.” Greets Rose.

“Hello. Sorry, didn’t mean to bother, I know you’re about to close.”

“It’s okay, you’re always welcomed.” Jimmy answers.

“It’ll be quick. I just wanted to see if Y/N was here, I-”

“Does this look right, Rose? I feel like-” You say, emerging from the bathroom but then you freeze in your step when you spot him. “Oh, hi, Jason.”

But Jason is unable to answer, in fact, he’s pretty sure that he has forgotten how to breathe because he’s stunned looking at you.

You’re wearing a very nice dress that you must have changed into in the bathroom, and it’s clear that you’ve dressed up for something.

You look beautiful.

You always do but Jason has never seen you so formal and it stirs up something in him. For a second, he can imagine that he’s come to pick you up for a date.

But the joy of seeing you doesn’t last long as he feels his throat dry and he swears that he can feel sweat begin to form at the back of his neck and run down his back. It takes him a second to understand those symptoms and the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Dread. Panic.

Because what if you actually do have a date?

Had he waited too long? Neither of you were any experts on relationships but it really felt like you two were working towards something. But what if it was too late now? What if he had let time drag on too much and now he was forever stuck in some kind of friend stage? Just like when he didn’t tell you about why he checked out so many children’s books and then it had passed so much time that it became awkward for him to do so.

His mind is in a spiral now, racing with thoughts. In one of your many conversations and hangouts after the very first reading with the kids and the diner, you both had mentioned that neither of you were seeing anybody. It was an off comment, something that you tell a friend without thinking too much about the implications of it.

But the idea hung in the air. The idea that the persons that you two were seeing were each other.

But still, neither of you had said that out loud.

And the thing was that you two weren’t just friends. Or at least that’s what Jason felt like and he thought that you probably thought the same. You two had a connection there and you were heading towards being something else. Slowly but steadily and surely, you were building something.

Right?

Suddenly, he finds himself revisiting every interaction that the two of you have ever had. Every longing look, every soft touch and that oh so wonderful moment while playing hide and seek where you two had almost kissed.

He couldn’t have possibly imagined all of that on his own, could he?

If he thought that the memory of holding your hand while he helped you down the ladder that one time had been haunting, it was nothing compared to that moment.

That moment that had plagued his mind every damn day since.

Everything about it, how you had looked at him, the smell of your hair, your hands on his shoulders, your slightly parted lips, added to everything about you from the very first time he met you, like your smile or the soft tone of your voice, creeping onto his skin and taking a resident place there. Like ivy, carving marks into him, down his arms and up his back, clasping and biting into him, leaving him red and scarred forever.

The difference of those imprints with the scars that he had gained over the years of crime-fighting and suffering was that they didn’t hurt nor weighed him down. Instead, they lifted him up, invigorated him and softly caressed his skin, like your hands taking care of his wounds, reassuring him that everything would be okay. That with you, everything will always be okay. They showed how much someone cared about him and valued him.

The difference being that he would wear your marks proudly.

And Jason finally decides that he doesn’t want to walk on the tightrope anymore. He wants to let go and fall into the void, take a leap of faith and come clean to you. Tell you that he’s in love with you and that he wants to be yours.

He can only hope that you may lay a safety net beneath him to fall into.

And if he’s not that lucky, he would have another invisible scar added to him, from both crashing into the ground and from having at least tried. And even though that one would hurt, more deeply and a lot longer than any physical one that he may have, you would have given it to him, and he would welcome anything that came from you with open arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do all of that but what he does know is that before anything, he wants to be honest with you. Tell you about being Red Hood. You deserve to know what you’re going to get into (if you even decide that you want to), before you two delve into something deeper.

The only thing is that you two are already there. Too far gone for each other, even though Jason doesn’t know that you are. The one thing that he is certain about is that when he tells you, it will change the foundations of the road that you have been building together.

What Jason isn’t so sure of is if it will destroy them, or make them even stronger.

But something that he does know, is that right now is not the moment for any of that.

So, for the time being, he settles with greeting you back and eventually saying:

“You look… You look great.” Even though that is an understatement.

You smile and shyly look down, your fingers playing with the skirt of your dress.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He says, and while you two are busy looking at each other, you both miss Rose and Jimmy’s knowing looks and smiles. And before he can help it, he’s opening his mouth again. “So, uhm, do you have a date or something?” He tries to say nonchalantly, not wanting to sound too obtrusive, but the doubt killing him.

Your eyes widen and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“What? God no, just fancy family dinner. It’s my parents' anniversary. Since they’re visiting they decided to celebrate together.” You explain, and Jason can feel a wash of relief going over him, his racing heart calming down.

He hasn’t lost his chance.

“Oh, that’s nice. Congrats.”

You nod and grab your things, getting ready to leave before turning to Jimmy and Rose.

“Thanks again for letting me go early.”

“Of course, dear. And don’t worry about the dress, it looks perfect. You look lovely.”

“No problem, sweetie.” Jimmy adds before complimenting you too.

You kiss the couple’s cheeks in thanks before bidding them goodbye, Jason copying your words before opening the door for you.

As you two leave, you see Jimmy whisper something into Rose’s ear while putting an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She chuckles and she kisses his cheek and Jimmy kisses her forehead in return.

Jason smiles at the fond interaction.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You say, still looking at the couple.

“They are.” Jason says, already looking at you. You’re lovely too. “You’re going to the restaurant with your family now?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have enough time to spare after the shift to go back home so I had to change in the bookshop. My parents lend me their car in order to make it.”

Jason nods, trying not to look too disappointed at the fact that he can’t even offer to drive you there, and a comfortable silence settles between you, neither of you wanting to part ways yet.

But you have to go if you don’t want to be late so you sigh before speaking once again.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Jason says, hands in his pockets. “See you soon then.”

“Bye.” You say and you haven’t taken two steps before Jason calls your name. You turn.

“You look very beautiful.” He can’t help but compliment you again.

You feel your whole face heat up.

“Thanks.”

You think about him the whole way to the restaurant but then again, when aren’t you not thinking about Jason Todd?

Jason has never been more scared in his life. Well, maybe he had, when he was in that damned warehouse. And then later, when he woke up after that without being able to recall who he was or where he was.

But this other type of fear... It's almost paralyzing, threathening to swallow him whole.

He runs as fast as he can, taking long strides, his rugged breathing making him have tunnel vision and only allowing him to focus on one thing.

You.

He hadn’t liked how close the situation had been to the bookshop from the very first moment that they had received the alert. Worry tight in his throat since he had always hoped not to ever have this kind of situation this close to you.

The bookshop’s neighborhood had always been one of the safest in Gotham, there were certain minor crimes, yes, which part of the city didn’t have them? But none of the rogues had ever attacked there.

You had once joked that you thought that the reason for it might be that some of the villains had family living there. You once even said that you could have sworn to have seen the Penguin accompanying an old lady that might have been his mother crossing the street.

Yet still, now an ACE Chemicals truck had been assaulted by Scarecrow and his henchmen. The truck wasn’t even supposed to be in the neighborhood in the first place, but the company and the police had received some information that an attack was being planned and they had decided to detour it.

And now you were in danger.

Jason keeps running with his hands clenched into fists that were turning tighter and tighter by the second.

He can feel sweat gathering on his forehead and he can almost hear a ticking clock hanging over his head as he puts some distance between him and the sickeningly looking mist of muddy green gas that had exploded in the truck.

The very same gas that was quickly spreading along the streets and that would reach the bookshop in a matter of minutes.

The first ones to arrive at the scene had been him and Tim, trying to control the situation until backup could arrive.

Scarecrow’s men were taking over the truck and before leaping into action, Jason threw Tim a look that even with the helmet on, Tim could perfectly understand.

If anything starts going sideways, I’m out of here. Going to her.

Going to you.

Tim was also aware of the fact of how close it all was to the bookshop and he just nodded, knowing how much you mattered to Jason.

They had been able to control the situation more or less as more and more police cars gathered around the truck. But then Scarecrow had finally made his appearance and everything derailed. At first, it seemed like they just wanted to steal from the truck but then something happened and the truck exploded.

Between the chemicals from inside the truck and whatever other things the villain and his gang always brought with them, the gas set off along with the explosion.

Scarecrow and his men scurried off immediately after, giving the feeling that that had certainly not been their desired outcome.

But the gas started spreading and they had no idea what chemicals were inside the truck or what the effects of it could be, but Jason wasn’t going to risk it.

And so, he took a quick glance at Tim, who already had his gas mask on, helping people on the street, and returning his gaze, Tim just nodded.

Go. We handle this here.

And with that, Jason set off.

The bookshop wasn’t actually that far away, just a few blocks, but Jason feels like he’s doing the longest run of his life and that time itself is slowing him down. He has also tried calling you but the line was already overloaded with all the emergency calls.

As he runs, he can hear through his intercom Steph and Duke shouting instructions to everyone nearby and Barbara guiding Bruce to track down Scarecrow.

His heart’s racing and when he finally catches sight of the bookshop, he feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

The sound of the door slamming open startles you in your place behind the counter. You turn your head to tell the person that had entered to mind their manners when you are met with a red stare that you had only seen in blurry pictures on the news and heard rumors about.

You take in a sharp breath as Red Hood closes the door and approaches you in quick strides. You freeze in your place, not because you are scared of him but because of the surprise of it. Especially when you look him over and your gaze can’t tear away from the brown leather jacket that felt so familiar to you.

Red Hood grabs your wrist, bringing you with him hurriedly into the break room. And though his grip is strong, you’re surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt at all. You can hear him talking and you know that his presence here can’t mean anything good, though not for you of course, you know that Red Hood wouldn’t hurt you, he didn’t hurt innocent people, but something must have happened.

However, you can’t seem to register any of his words, it’s like he’s saying something but you’re underwater, his words sounding muffled and jammed together.

Because for some strange reason you’re still fixated on his jacket.

He sets you down on the floor next to the sofa in the break room and crouches down in front of you. And then he does something that makes your brows furrow in confusion.

He calls you by your name.

How does he even know your name?

You want to ask him but everything feels so confusing right now, like a tornado spinning around you. You only manage to utter a weak “What…?”, before you can’t help it and your hands, with a life of their own, run over his arms, feeling the fabric of the jacket until they reach the lapels and grip them.

Your heart was already racing and your breathing labored from the whole situation but it seemed like they hadn’t reached their limit yet. Though you feel like they are surely about to do so. You can feel your heart go even faster as your mind begins spiraling with thoughts and you suck in a breath when the realization hits you.

Because this… This piece of clothing so characteristic of the vigilante in front of you, you had spent an awful lot of time staring and gawking over the man that wore it several times in your bookshop.

Because this… This is the very same fabric that your hands had touched while you had been inches away from kissing that very same man in an alley while you were playing hide and seek.

Because now that you were able to see it up close, you instantly recognize it.

How could you not? When you had spent so much time with its owner, laughing while you two ate lunch; admiring him when he found an interesting book on the bookshelves; feeling understood when you shared your worries with him; taking the opportunity to touch his arm anytime that you could, covered in this very same jacket, one of the few of this type that he owned; hoping that if you were to tell him how you feel, he would feel the same way; and wishing that you could kiss him without having to worry about the consequences?

Because this jacket belongs to the man that you’re in love with.

Because this jacket… This jacket belongs to Jason Todd.

And then everything clicks, how he works nights, the wounds on his knuckles, his occasional and strange run offs. Suddenly it all feels so blatantly obvious that you wonder how you didn’t see it before.

You know in your gut what it means but your brain is still catching up with everything going on around you to fully make sense of what your heart already knows.

For a quick second, the thought that maybe he shouldn’t wear the same jacket while patrolling and during his day to day, makes you want to start laughing. Though it’s true that unless you saw it more than once, several times and very close, no one would realize that they were the same jacket. But the reality of the situation around you helps you to rein in the inappropriate laugh.

And then your name being called again finally breaks you out of your thoughts, and the only thing that you can focus on is him.

Jason’s gripping your shoulders now, willing you to focus on him and needing to have some kind of contact with you to make sure that you’re okay. He moves frantically, his eyes quickly checking the front door of the bookshop through one of the break room’s windows that look into the main part of the shop, already seeing the mist of gas slipping under it, trying to calculate how much time he has left.

He’s been asking you if you’re okay and trying to explain what has happened but the sentences come out stumbled, his brain going faster than what his mouth can follow.

In his haste he doesn’t even register the change in the look of your eyes at your realization.

He knows what he has to do but he’s afraid of what it will entail. He wanted to sit down with you, tell you about being Red Hood and explain everything to you. He wanted to be hopeful that you may understand but now he doesn’t have the chance to let you know how he would have wanted to.

It feels like someone has pushed him from the tightrope beneath him, directly cutting it, or rather, that it has snapped over his own weight, not able to hold him and his secrets anymore, and now he’s falling and he can’t do anything about it.

And if you would have ever laid a net beneath him, he’s sure that you would cut a hole open in it now.

He’s about to break everything that you two have been working towards, a shattering earthquake destroying what once was a strong and beautiful road.

But it’s the only way to keep you safe.

And he would cut the rope sustaining him himself and willingly fall into the abyss if he had to to make sure that you’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters to him right now.

And that’s exactly what he does.

You watch perplexed as Red Hood takes the helmet off and you’re met with the sharp features and white streak that you love so much.

It really is him.

He’s Red Hood.

Jason is Red Hood.

Jason, who always seemed to be checking out children’s books, wearing leather jackets and making you smile like no one has ever done before.

Your Jason.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a weird mist start to seep through under the door to the break room that Red Hood- no, Jason, had closed after you two entered.

“Jason?” You whisper. He lifts his head up from where he’s been fidgeting with the helmet since he took it off to meet your gaze, and the broken look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it has been stabbed. “What’s going on?” He follows your line of sight and his eyes grow with worry.

“Scarecrow.” He mutters while turning back to the helmet, he pushes a few hidden buttons in it and you’re surprised to see how its panels shift, changing its shape slightly but still having a head-like form.

And then Jason turns to you, his hands lifting with the helmet towards your head.

Your face contorts with horror when you realize what he wants to do.

You immediately grab his forearms, pushing them down and therefore, the helmet too.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“I have to protect you. And we don’t know what the gas does yet so I’m not taking any risks.” He pushes the helmet towards your head once again but you repeat your previous action, preventing him from doing so.

“And you? What about you?” You ask desperately, the gas coming closer and closer towards you both.

Jason’s lips pull into a sad smile. “I’ll be fine.” He whispers. It’s like he has already resigned himself to something. You shake your head.

“No. I’m not taking it.”

“I have a spare small mask, don’t worry.”

You’re still so in shock from everything that you don’t realize that he’s lying, yet in the pit of your stomach you can already feel a pool of dread forming.

“But-” You start but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, listen to me. We don’t have much time. Do you trust me?”

Even with everything that has just happened, you don’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Jason nods and puts the red helmet over your head, the shifted panels allowing it to fit your head perfectly. Jason sighs with relief and looks at you fondly, his hands still on either side of your head.

Your hands come up to cover his own and he nods reassuringly. “You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

Everything is going to be okay.

But then Jason starts coughing.

The gas has already reached you both and gathers at your ankles.

Your eyes widen and you reach for him as his hands let go of your head to support himself when he begins lulling to one side. “Jason!” You shout.

You can see his eyes losing focus, starting to get dizzy. While your breathing keeps coming in deep and clean thanks to the regulator built in the helmet, Jason seems to be gasping for air, like he isn’t getting enough oxygen or like his lungs are refusing what’s going in them.

And you finally realize that there never was a spare mask.

How could you have been so foolish?

You try to take the helmet off to give it back to him but it’s like it’s closed off. You press the buttons that you find on the underside at the back but nothing happens. You try everything but it just won’t come off.

Nothing.

You can’t take it off.

He must have locked it somehow, almost as if he knew what you would try to do.

You can’t protect him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” A cough. “ I swear I wanted to tell you.” Another one. “ I was going to.” He says between short breaths before finally collapsing onto the floor.

You grab him before his head hits the ground and you hush him gently.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Now it’s you the one holding the sides of his face softly.

One of his hands comes up to hold one of your own, and you can’t stand the look of utter adoration and affection with which he gazes at you.

Because you can’t help him.

And his look is as if he would be content to go this way, knowing that at least you’re safe.

And your heart breaks all over again.

The room is covered in gas now and it’s not until your vision becomes slightly blurry that you register the tears welling up in your eyes.

You cry for help but there’s nothing that can be done now. You also try calling 911, not caring what will happen if someone sees that he’s Red Hood. You just need him to be safe. But the line doesn't work. Jason begins to close his eyes.

“Hey, hey, no.” You urge. “Stay with me, stay with me.” Jason opens his eyes once more, fighting to stay awake, but you can see in them how he’s almost gone, his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Please.” You whisper, fighting the tears.

And then his hand holding yours falls limp.

And with it, your heart does too.

You shake him, call him, scream at him to wake up but it’s no use. Tears run down your cheeks now, raked sobs breaking though your chest.

You even try to take off the helmet again but of course, nothing happens.

You feel for his heartbeat, it takes you an agonizing second to feel it but it's there.

Weak and slow, barely perceptible, but it’s there.

Although you fear that probably not for much longer.

Fear and dread run through you, you don’t know how to fix this. You don’t want to let him go but he’s being pulled away from you.

And then the door to the break room bursts open.

You look up and there Red Robin stands.

And the way in which he shakes his hair away from his eyes with a movement of his head while looking around the room frantically, trying to locate you through the mist, makes your breath hitch in realization for the second time in the last few minutes.

Tim.

Then he notices Jason’s unconscious body in your arms and when his gaze meets yours, even with the helmet on he knows what you want to say.

Save him.

Your shifts at the bookstore have never felt longer. You had become so used to him and come to rely on his visits so much that now, without him, they only drag on and on and on, something that had never even happened before.

Even before him.

Your only solace being that he’s alive.

You often have to remind yourself of that fact when the memory of the fear of losing him claws back at you.

Jason is alive. He is okay.

After Tim found you two, he launched towards Jason, checking his vitals and addressing his state.

He told you that he needed to bring Jason to the batcave as soon as possible and you had immediately grabbed Jason’s hand, refusing to let go of him and profusely saying that you were going with him.

But Tim had only shook his head, explaining how Jason would kill him if he ever allowed you to not go to the hospital for a check up.

But you had fought him with tooth and nails, saying that you weren’t leaving his side anytime soon and Tim had no other option but to give up.

However, just as Tim was calling for Steph to come and help him with Jason quickly, you passed out.

Whether because of all the emotions and stress of those five minutes (because yes, since Jason first entered into the bookshop to protect you, it had only been five minutes, maybe even less), or because due to the shifted panels in the helmet, some gas had managed to slip in, you didn’t know.

Probably more the later than the former but still.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the hospital. Thankfully without the helmet, Tim having probably managed to unlock it.

Through the doctors, nurses, and the news on the TV in the ER, you learned that the gas was dangerous but thankfully non-lethal. In most cases, like yours, people in the neighborhood who had only inhaled a bit just felt dizzy for a few hours or passed out for a bit.

In other cases, the most serious ones, like Jason’s, people were put into a coma-like state, with the lungs rendered to a point of near-exhaustion. But with good rest and the appropriate care, they would recover soon with no side effects.

Batman had managed to apprehend Scarecrow and just like the vigilantes had suspected from the beginning, it wasn’t a deliberate attack but a robbery gone wrong.

They let you go of the hospital that very same afternoon, with instructions that if you felt any kind of dizziness to come back. After your family (and Rose and Jimmy of course) checked in with you, you were finally able to grab a hold of your phone that had been left in the bookshop.

You were met with a text from Tim, how he had managed to get your number, you didn’t know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that all the Waynes were part of the Batfamily.

Or at least, that’s what you figured, once you were finally able to think with a clear head and digest all of your recent discoveries.

The text said that Jason had made it to the batcave safely, that he had been treated immediately and that he was resting now.

You have never been more grateful for anything in your life.

But that had been a week and a half ago. And you hadn’t seen Jason since.

You felt like a part of you had been ripped out and taken along with him. The absence of a vital organ leaving you empty.

Probably your heart, since it had left your chest and leaped itself into Jason’s hands a long time ago.

The neighborhood had been deemed safe after the gas dissipated and you were back to your job like nothing had ever happened, just like how it often was after any incident with a rogue in Gotham.

Life just went on. Gotham and its residents as resilient as ever. The fight and survival etched onto their DNA.

If there ever was something to admire Gotham for, its survival skills were definitely it.

You had wanted to see Jason immediately, and you had even called Tim so that he could tell you more about Jason’s state and tried to see when you could go see him but then your mother had called.

Your uncle had had an accident at work and he would need surgery.

Though there was some risk, it wasn’t a extremely dangerous procedure. But if there was something that all of your family had in common and that was characteristic of all of you, was that if something happened to someone, every single member of the family would come running to be there.

And you knew that you had to be there, you wanted to be there, but it still tore at your insides having had to leave without having being able to see Jason. But your uncle lived on the other side of the country and you had to take a plane that very same night to be able to arrive before the surgery the next day.

So, you had called Tim back, telling him that you had to leave, how bad you felt, how sorry you were and that you would try to come back as soon as possible. But Tim assured you that it was okay, that they would all take care of Jason, that it would take him a couple of days to wake up and be fully conscious and that he understood (and that Jason would too) that you had to go.

You nodded, trying to hold back tears and muff your sniffling due to all the stress that had taken a hold of you due to all the recent events. Tim had calmed you down and promised you to keep you updated. Helping you just like you had done when you met him.

Thank god for Tim Drake. You’re pretty sure that you would have lost it if it weren’t because of him. His reassurance a sign of a friendship for a lifetime.

And so, you left. Everything went well with your uncle and you were glad to have been able to see your family for a few days since quite a long time ago.

But when you came back, Jason wouldn’t see you.

It took Jason two days to wake up from the coma-like state, though he had been getting better and better with each passing hour, and a full day of only eating and sleeping before he was able to return to normalcy.

Still, when he first woke up, the only thing in his foggy brain was you. He asked about you as soon as he opened his eyes and Tim told him that you were okay but that you had to leave for a few days due to a family emergency, and that you had called every day several times to check in.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. Both because you were safe and because he didn’t know how he would have faced you if you had been there.

He was sure that you hated him now. Despised him. Sure, you had called to see how he was, but that’s just how you were, caring and protective. But deep down, he knew that you had to resent him for having hidden being Red Hood from you.

He was sure that if he saw you, the first thing that you would do was scream at him and tell him that you didn’t want him in your life anymore.

And he wouldn’t be able to bear that.

He didn’t know how he could ever go back to a life without you.

That’s why he refused to see you everytime that you reached out after you came back. Letting his phone ring out when you called, later just sending a quick text saying that he was fine, that he was just busy with some things in order to not worry you. He knew that it was unfair and that he was being an idiot but he didn’t know what he would do if he saw you, even though he knew that he eventually would have to.

And yet, despite all of that, he still couldn’t bring himself to fully cut ties with you. He simply couldn’t. Needing you at least in some way in his life just as much as he needed air. As well as the fact that he knew that he couldn't do something like that to you, at least not without explaining.

It wasn’t until Tim cornered him and talked some sense into him that he realized that he couldn’t put it off any longer.

When Jason enters the bookshop, a chill runs through him as he shakes the drops of water from his hair. He had dreaded every single step that he took towards the bookshop, a cloud of shame hanging over his head. And then the universe had decided that he wasn’t miserable enough and so that cloud of shame had quite literally started to pour on him. He couldn’t help but think that he deserved it but still, it sucked.

He usually liked rain. Just not when he didn’t have an umbrella and was tethering on the edge of sanity while trying to hold the composure that he had created to give him the strength necessary to face you. And certainly not when he was holding a hot chocolate that he had bought for you; having already lost count of how many times he had previously done so when he came to visit you, in a sad attempt at a peace offering, even though he was sure that you would dump it on him; but that now surely was just cold chocolate.

Shit. He really was going to look like even more of an idiot than he already was.

“Jason?” Your soft voice comes through, like an antidote calming him instantly and soothing all his worries. Your presence, like always, making all of his dark thoughts go away.

Though that peace didn’t last long because you were here now and he couldn’t run now. He had to do what he had come to do.

Even though he still wasn’t sure what exactly that was, no matter how much he had tried to prepare himself. Had he come to apologize? Explain? Beg for your forgiveness? He had no idea.

It didn’t matter anymore because as usual, all his thoughts and working brain cells flew out of the window when he was near you. This time even more so than usual since he had never gone this long without seeing you. He just stands there, soaked from the rain on the entrance doormat, like a wet cat begging to be let home again after causing trouble and running out.

And you’re just standing there, in the doorway of the break room, looking at him like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing, as if he was some mythological creature and you didn’t dare to move an inch, either in order not to scare him away or because you were petrified in fear, Jason didn’t know.

And he’s just rendered speechless. His breath taken away from him as he takes you in for what possibly is the last time, trying to commit every part of your beautiful self to memory, all of those parts that he already knows by heart, before you kick him out of the bookshop and out of your life forever.

“Yeah.” He finally responds.

Great, Jason. Very eloquent.

No turning back now.

He gulps.

“Hi.” He adds, trying to act with normalcy but he winces when he realizes that it doesn’t match the situation at all. There really is no way of making this any easier, is there?

He expects you to start yelling at him, push him, anything. But you just keep staring at him. And then:

“God, you’re drenched. Wait here.” You disappear for a second and Jason can’t believe what has just happened, a bewildered look in his eyes. He expected anything but that. But he obeys, doing whatever you asked of him in his very nature, trying to move as little as possible so that he would only drop water onto the doormat. You return quickly and hand him a towel after taking the hot (cold) chocolate from his hands so that he can dry up a bit.

You put the cup onto the counter as he shakes his boots on the mat, dries his face and ruffles the towel through his hair. When he finishes you approach him once again.

“Here, let me take your jacket. You're going to freeze.” Jason feels like he’s on autopilot as he follows your every direction, like a sailor the call of a siren. Not daring to move a single muscle or do any abrupt movement other than what’s necessary, afraid of breaking whatever is happening right now.

You hang his jacket on the coat rack by the door to dry a bit and then you turn back to him.

There’s a moment of silence, the only noise being the rain’s soft pattering against the windows, the dark clouds filtering the setting sun, casting the bookstore in a gloomy atmosphere though the place still maintains its warm glow from the few lamps turned on with a yellow and orange glow.

The place is quiet, not a single soul in the bookshop except you two. Jason made sure of coming around closing time so that you could be alone, without any other customers interrupting and, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, the small hope of finding the bookshop closed and therefore having the perfect excuse to delay this another day.

But of course, the universe wasn’t going to have it. He never was that lucky.

Jason is so stupefied that he doesn’t move from the doormat as you take a couple of steps closer to him and look him over. Assessing him. Studying him. He avoids your gaze, not knowing what to do under your scrutiny.

He might as well be a cactus now with how rooted he is to the goddamn doormat. And then he sees how your feet join his on it and he can’t help the chill that runs through him once again, but not from the cold this time, but from your intoxicating proximity, so reminiscent of the one from the ghost kiss in the alley.

This is it, he thinks. This is when you finally push him from your life forever.

But then you surprise him once again, when without any trace of hesitation nor fear you touch his face. Sofly cradling it as if you might still care about him.

He doesn’t understand anything that’s going on right now. He has never been more confused in his entire life.

After so many months, Jason had come to know you in such a way, so intricately well, that he could read you like a book. Just like you with him. But now, Jason is seriously questioning that because he has no idea what is going through your mind right now.

He finally gathers the courage to look at you, still afraid of what he’s going to find, but you’re not even looking at him.

Your gaze is fixated upon the small cut at the end of his left eyebrow.

A reminder of the Red Hood duty from the night before. How he had managed to get a wound there even with the helmet on, he had no idea.

He sees your eyebrows furrow and your expression change to one of worry.

And then your hands run down his sides until they take a hold of his, inspecting them over after taking the towel from them.

And you sigh, disappointed in finding what you hoped not to be there. The skin on his knuckles broken once again.

Jason feels like a stranded boat, lost at sea, the water around him lulling him to its will.

That’s you.

The rain continues on as you turn slightly and flip the sign of the bookshop to closed before locking the door.

As a lightning strikes in the distance, flashing momentaneous light into the bookshop and illuminating your soft features, you take Jason’s hand and just like several times before, you drag him to the break room, but this time, instead of on a chair by the table, you sit him down on the sofa.

And he lets you. He gladly lets the sea take his boat wherever it wants to. Even if it’s to his own demise.

You take the blanket resting on the arm of the couch and drape it over him, making sure that it stays on his shoulders before you take the towel back to the bathroom and for the third time, you grab the first aid kit there.

You return to the break room and not even your shuffling steps make his lost gaze go towards you.

Despite his big frame you had never seen him so small, curled onto himself, head hung in shame; and it makes your heart clench. He looks deep in thought, grabbing the edges of the blanket so that it stays wrapped around him, as if he’s contemplating how to say whatever he has come to say to you.

But you don’t care. He could stay quiet the whole time if he wanted to.

Because at least he was here.

And honestly, your first instinct at seeing him back in the bookshop had been to run to him and hug him like your life depended on it and never let him go. But you had ultimately decided against it, not wanting to scare him away.

His presence there still felt almost like a mirage to you, after having gone so long without seeing him for the first time ever since you met him.

So, it was a very welcomed step from just sending you short texts letting you know he was still alive and well.

And you couldn’t blame him. Like always, you two worked by taking your own time, giving each other space.

And you knew that Jason had a lot on his mind after the gas incident. In the chaos of it all, he had told you that he had wanted to tell you about being Red Hood before and you wholeheartedly believed him, knowing that it wasn’t something that you could just tell anyone at any given moment. And now he had to deal with the reality that now you knew about that part of his life.

And you had a feeling that he thought that you would push him away for it. Resent him. When it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Because now you saw the whole picture that Jason Todd was.

And you know what?

He still was your Jason.

He still was the man that you were in love with.

Someone to whom you felt connected in a way that you had never felt before. Someone that was your friend and that always managed to make you smile. Someone that was always there for you when you had a bad day. Someone that reads to kids in his free time. Someone that tries to make this city better and protects its people as a vigilante. Someone who goes out of his way to visit you, a completely normal and ordinary woman who runs a simple bookshop. Someone that didn’t hesitate in sacrificing his own safety for yours.

Yeah, you were still very much in love with that man.

And if he needed some time to come back to you, that was fine with you because you knew that he wouldn’t just leave you like that. During the last few days you could even have sworn to have seen him peering through the windows into the bookshop in passing, but when you focused a bit more, he was gone. Or at least that’s what you hoped, the string pulling you two together too strong.

No matter how much it had pained you to have the person holding your heart keeping you at arm’s length.

Because a day or two more of waiting and you would have stormed into wherever Jason was and told him how much he meant to you until that stubborn head of his realized how you weren’t ever letting him go.

You also hoped that he didn’t resent you, for not having been able to be at his side when he woke up. Something that you will never forgive yourself for, no matter how you knew that it couldn’t have been any other way.

You sit down next to him and place the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of the sofa, getting all that you will need to heal his wounds ready. You take one more look at them and your heart clenches.

You don’t like how he doesn’t seem to take full care of himself.

Because to you, Jason Todd was a treasure. A treasure that you will never be sure how you had managed to be able to find.

And he should be treated just like one.

And that’s exactly what you intend to do.

You follow the same process as the last time to take care of his knuckles, Jason quiet and avoiding your gaze the whole time, before moving onto the cut on his brow.

You raise your hand with a cotton patch to put some antiseptic on it and your eyes finally meet his. The green in them, like always, lighting up your insides, a forest in which you would gladly get lost in.

Jason looks at you as one of your hands takes a hold of his chin to tilt his head while the other one begins treating the cut.

And Jason feels like dying when he sees the flash of pain that crosses your eyes because he knows that he’s the one who put it there.

From the very first time that you healed him, he could see how you didn’t like seeing him hurt. Yet he still had let you see his wounds and tend to them more times after that.

He really usually does tend to his wounds. Except that very first time with his knuckles that he had been so tired he had only cleaned them. But after feeling your soft hands taking care of him for the first time, it was like he didn’t want his wounds healed anymore unless it was you the one who did it.

And so, subconsciously, selfishly and guiltily, he barely tended to them, just what was strictly necessary, a desperate attempt and blind hope of you maybe wanting to heal him in order to feel your delicate touch, that Jason was sure did a lot more for his wounds than whatever any kind of medicine could do.

Your touch not only mending his wounds but also healing his soul and soothing all the bad thoughts in his mind.

But right now, Jason wants nothing more than to get on his knees and do whatever you ask of him. Anything to make the slight hurt that briefly passes your eyes go away. Beg if it's necessary.

He thinks that apologizing may be a good starting point.

“Y/N…” He begins but before he can go on any further you hush him, almost like you want to enjoy the silence and this moment of intimacy as much as possible.

Then you reach for the first aid kit again, taking a steri-strip from a pack that you had bought, along with some other extra items, knowing that the basics of a normal first aid weren’t going to be enough now that you knew that he was Red Hood.

You put it on the cut, careful of not hurting him. Jason watches you mesmerized, still not believing that you haven’t kicked him out yet.

Then, you take a normal band-aid to put over the strip, just to be extra safe but mainly because you want to see him smile.

“Is that a Hello Kitty band-aid?” He asks in disbelief, breaking the silence, as he watches you open the band-aid with the pink, red and white doodles.

“Yup.” You say as you put it, covering the cut and fully hiding it from view, Jason not putting any kind of resistance to it. And your heart clenches blissfully at the small smile that pulls at Jason’s lips. Oh, how much you had missed it, your own personal kind of drug. And you can’t help but mirror him too.

“Thanks.” He whispers once you’re done patching him up. You give a slight nod in return.

You pass your thumb softly over the band-aid to make sure that it doesn’t fall off and then you meet Jason’s eyes again, that look just like a kicked puppy’s. Shining with oncoming tears and wide in fear of what is going to come next.

“I owe you an explanation.” He finally says with a sigh of resignation and you shake your head.

“Jason, you don’t-”

“No, let me do this. I need to do this. It’s the least I can do, I owe it to you.” He says, taking your hands in his, one of which still was caressing his eyebrow and stares at them as he can’t help but begin to rub soft circles into the back of them.

Goosebumps raise all over your skin.

Jason takes a deep breath before he starts talking. It seemed like you still cared about him but would you still do so once he finally explained everything and told you the truth?

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. But he knows that he can’t delay this anymore. He doesn’t want to.

As he begins, a cracking thunder sounds in the distance, shaking the foundations of the road that you two have been building together to its core.

The question being, would it stand the storm?

You listen to him intently. He doesn’t look at you once, instead deciding to focus on your joined hands. Grabbing onto a last part of you before he lets you go forever.

“And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I totally understand that you may not want to see me anymore. I betrayed your trust and that’s unforgivable. Some of the things that I’ve done…” He shakes his head. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. You mean so much to me. And even though it breaks me having to remove myself from your life, I know that it’s for the best.”

“Jason, I-”

“No, no. Let me finish please.” He continues ranting. “I promise you that I won’t let the feelings that I have for you get in the way. I will go out that door tonight and never come back again. I’ll let you get on with your life.”

You’re fairly sure that he doesn’t even realize half the things that he’s saying. It’s like he has opened a gate and now not only is he apologizing and telling you the truth about everything, but he’s also letting his feelings for you finally come to the surface, unable to stop himself. He’s so caught up in everything that he leaves them out in the open without even realizing it.

And you just want to smile. Because Jason Todd has feelings for you too. And he has just said it out loud. You try to conceal your beaming smile to not scare him away. He’s way too much into his own head now, spiraling around the fact that he has to remove himself from your life as some sort of self-imposed punishment and in order to at least spare himself a part of the pain that would come from you outright kicking him away.

But you would never do that. Because even with everything that he has just told you and the things that he hasn’t yet, because you know that his story is a lot longer than what an evening can hold and holds a lot more things and very much darker ones than what he has revealed for the moment, you still want to be here with him. You still want him in your life.

Nothing could make you want to stay away from Jason Todd.

Not even himself.

And if there’s one thing that you’re stubborn about is that you’re always there for the people that you care about.

You just need to make him see that. To make him see how important he is to you. And you’re going to do everything you can so that he does.

You call his name again, trying to center his attention back to you but he keeps rambling.

You can only think of one thing that might finally make him stop and listen to you while also making him realize how you feel about him.

You have never done something as bold as this before. And there’s still a knick of doubt in the back of your mind, but the mere possibility of Jason leaving and the fact that the safety line that you two had drawn about your friendship and your feelings is fully difuminated now after his unintentional confession, almost as if it had never actually been there, has you determined. You want to think that it would turn out right.

And if not, at least you would get to do something that you had wanted to do for a very long time.

So, after firmly saying his name once more, and one of your hands getting out of his hold and tilting his head towards you, just when his eyes finally, finally, lock with yours for a quick second, you press your lips to his.

It’s not a long kiss and there isn’t much movement but you hope that you’re conveying everything that you feel for him and more. You can tell that Jason’s caught by surprise but it doesn’t take long at all for him to slowly press his lips against yours, returning your kiss. He lets himself melt into it and you do too. You feel warm all over and then you both sigh against each other, the two of you having fallen off the tightrope and finding that not only there’s a safety net beneath you, but an infinite number under it, one after the other, in the impossible case that one might break.

A soft place to land, a warm embrace.

You think that you could die happily right now.

You part, not wanting to overwhelm him but just from that taste you can already feel yourself slightly dizzy in the best kind of way. You slowly open your eyes and see Jason already looking at you, not believing what has just happened. You take a deep breath. Might as well put the nail in the coffin now. Cement the road.

“I’m in love with you Jason. All that makes you be you. Including being Red Hood. And I’m not going anywhere. And I really, really hope that you aren’t either.” You whisper.

“I’m a mess.”

You tilt your head with a small smile. “Aren’t we all?”

“Are you sure?” He whispers back, caressing your hair, still giving you an out, a last chance for you to escape him and all his problems, before his instincts take over and he latches himself onto you forever and never lets you go.

You nod, not faltering in your resolve. “Yes.”

“I’m in love with you too. I love you.” He says next and nothing has ever felt so liberating. Jason feels light, floating. And all he wants to do now is say it over and over again, just in case that you might still not be aware of how much he loves you.

“Good. That’s very, very good. I love you too.” You giggle, pressing your forehead to his, your noses brushing each other. Jason grins.

“Can you do that again?” He asks, his gaze dropping to your lips, already knowing that the day that he goes by without tasting them will be torture.

Your smile widens even more, if that’s even possible, and you kiss him once again.

And again.

After that, everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, he also kissed you everytime he did so.

Except that now, you went on very official dates, not ones that could be mistaken by a friendly hangout.

Except that now, you paid a lot more attention to any news about Red Hood.

Except that now, you always patched him up.

Except that now, you spent nights in each other's beds.

And right now, you’re very confused.

Your brows knit as you try to understand what is in front of you. The computer screen showing the details of a book order that you had made for the bookshop a while ago but that hadn’t arrived, not making any sense.

You’re so concentrated that you barely register the jingle of the bell above the entrance door. Out of the corner of your eye you feel a figure come to stand in front of the counter.

“Just a second, please. I’ll be right with you.” You say almost automatically, trying to see if you can just wrap your head around what you’re reading on the screen, though you doubt that a few more seconds will make any difference. But still, you’re adamant to try.

“It’s okay. I’m just looking for my girlfriend.” The figure says and your head lifts up so fast at the voice that you should be worried about getting whiplash. But you don’t care.

Because there he is.

Jason Todd.

Your boyfriend.

You still feel giddy inside every time that you think about it.

You let out a small gasp before your lips twist into a wide smile and you might as well be The Flash with how quickly you round the counter and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Jason’s smile is just as radiant as yours as he watches you come to him and gets ready for when you crash into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and giving you a slight spin when your feet lift off the floor due to the force of your hug.

He closes his eyes and breathes you in while he hugs you and brings you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. Your bodies merged into one in your embrace.

Never in his wildest dreams would Jason have ever thought that he would find himself in this situation. One in which you rush to meet him glowing with happiness. One in which he gets to kiss you without the fear of being rejected and one in which he’s able to call himself yours. He never would have believed any of that when he stepped foot into the bookshop that fateful night, which he was sure would be the last time he would ever get to see you.

He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you want him. That you accept all of his demons and that you help him fight them. That you love him. He will never take it for granted.

God, he loves you so much.

Your feet touch the floor once again but he doesn’t let go. He lets his senses overwhelm with you, everything about you enveloping him and not letting him feel anything that isn’t you. Your scent, the feel of your hair tickling his cheek, your arms around him. He doesn’t want to ever let you go.

He’s finally home.

Two weeks and a half is too long without you.

You think the very same about him as you do the exact same with him, your senses taking every part of him in, committing him to memory once again, even though you already know them like the back of your hand.

The feel of his soft hair as you run your fingers through it, just like you had dreamed so many times before, the scent and feel of his leather jacket beneath your arms.

God, you love him so much.

You finally pull back and look up at him with stars in your eyes. And then, without sparing another second, he dips down to kiss you. Or you pull up to kiss him, you’re not sure.

The only thing that matters is that his lips are finally back on yours and that’s all you need to know. You kiss him deeply, savoring him after being apart for so long and he kisses you back just as eagerly, loving the feeling of finally having you back in his arms.

And just like everytime that you kissed, like the very first time, it feels like a dream. Because you still can’t believe that he’s yours and that you’re his.

It was a long time coming.

But it turns out that you two are still human and therefore still need to breathe, so you both pull away but only what is strictly necessary to regain your breaths. Your chests and foreheads are still pressed together and lips inches from each other, so close that you can’t tell which breaths are his and which breaths are yours.

Your fast beating hearts falling into the same rhythm, syncing once again, going as one.

One of your hands holds the side of his face, softly caressing his cheek, so smooth that he must have shaved that very same morning. You feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“What are you doing here?” You finally say between giggles, the drug of his proximity, like always, making pure happiness run through your veins.

“Wrapped the case early.” He answers breathlessly before not being able to resist anymore and kissing you again.

You can’t help the smile on your lips while you kiss him and you can feel another one pulling at his own. When you separate once again you smile at each other, your eyes shining with love and affection for one another.

Jason had left earlier that month to help Dick with a case in Blüdhaven for a few days but then the thing had gotten bigger and dragged them all the way to Metropolis, making his trip longer than what he had first anticipated.

And then earlier in the week he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to return until the end of it. But here he was. Holding you in his arms and kissing you on a peaceful Wednesday afternoon.

“Everything went well?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from his, only perhaps to steal a quick look at his lips.

“Yeah. All good.”

Before either of you can say anything else or even try to kiss each other again, Rose, Jimmy and Charlie, all of whom had been chatting over coffee in the break room, emerge at all the fuss.

“What’s all this?” Says Charlie with a smile as you and Jason disentangle, though he keeps you tucked into his side with a respectful arm around your waist.

“Just a young lovers reunion, Charlie.” Answers Rose.

“Sorry for intruding on, kiddos.” Adds Jimmy.

“It’s okay.” You say.

“You must be this Jason that I’ve heard so much about.” Charlie comments.

“Yes, sir. And you must be the famous Charlie. Nice to meet you.” Jason answers while shaking his hand, though not before throwing you a glance that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and hide your face in his shoulder for a second. So you talked about me too huh?

“You too. My grandchildren are going to be devastated that you’re with someone now, darling.” Charlie says jokingly towards you now.

“Sorry, Charlie.” You respond with an apologetic smile.

“It’s good to see you, sweetie.” Says Rose to Jason to which Jimmy nods in agreement.

“It’s great to be back home.” He answers and you feel his hand give your waist a slight squeeze.

Shivers run down your spine.

You look up at Jason lovingly, a gaze that he returns, and you’re so lost in each other that neither of you see the smiles and look of recognition that the elders have in their faces, having themselves experienced a love like yours that still lasted to this day.

“Go, honey. Take the rest of the day.” Rose offers. You turn to her surprised but you can’t help but to also be excited at the possibility of going out with Jason already. Maybe to see Lily and the other kids, since Jason hadn’t seen them since he left, though you had of course shown up to check on them and continue with the readings, or maybe to eat something at Millie and Ruby’s.

But you don’t care as long as Jason’s with you. There were so many possibilities and you two had all the time in the world. And you were going to seize every single second of it. You two had wasted enough time already.

You also already know that Jason’s either spending the rest of the week at your apartment or you’re spending it at his.

“Are you sure?” You ask Rose.

“Yeah, go have fun, kids.” Jimmy confirms. You thank them before smiling brightly at Jason and then going to get your bag and coat.

As you and Jason make your way towards the door, Charlie speaks up once again.

“You’re treating her right, I suppose.”

Jason looks at you as he opens the door of the bookshop before turning back to Charlie.

“Always.” He says without hesitating and Charlie nods, glad with his answer.

The elders watch you go, happy that you two have each other. They watch how Jason moves the hand on the small of your back to take your hands between his and blow into them to warm them up in the cold Gotham air. And how you then zip his jacket all the way up, adjusting the collar so that it would protect him as much as possible, both of you smiling and looking at each other fondly, before you disappear from their view hand in hand.

Because as it turns out, it isn’t really a surprise when the road stays as strong and sturdy as ever after that cracking thunder.

Because that night, the days after and over time, Jason told you everything. About his past, about his family. And over time all that you did was fall even more for him, loving every part, every scar that he decided to show you. And he did the exact same for you.

Because in the end, he still was your Jason, the kind and handsome young man who always checked out children’s books and wore leather jackets.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd fic #Jason todd one shot #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd #Red hood x reader #Red hood fic #Red hood one shot #Red hood imagine #Red hood #Jason todd imagines #Red hood imagines #Children's Books and Leather Jackets #ThreeStarsInLine #Jason todd fluff #Jason todd angst #Red hood fluff #Red hood angst #DC Comics

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phfenomena · 1 year ago

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❝dancing in the refrigerator light.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request- tom and reader baking while the background song is stand by me (let us all be delusional)

| A/N- i love this so much you have no idea. this shit got me ENTHRALLED also i imagine this as like right after ‘you’re my best friend’ happened…a part two perhaps..

| WARNINGS- food, dancing, touching a burning hot pan bc you’re too busy looking at tom, and big ole kissies

(divider by @v6que)

you stand in your kitchen humming along to the quiet music flowing through your house, mixing the blueberry muffin batter. it’s well past midnight at this point but you find it impossible to fall under the blanket of rest.

you left tom snoozing soundly in your bed, not wanting to bother him at this hour. a small smile plays on your lips as you zone out while mixing and think about how well everything played out so well with him. you hone back in to your mixing before you feel tom rest his chin on your shoulder.

“you’re supposed to be asleep.” you whisper, leaning you head onto his as he hums and closes his eyes. “can’t stay asleep, what’re you making?” he questions right next to your ear making your face slightly warm, your crush on him will never go away. “blueberry muffins. my mom always used to make them when we couldn’t sleep.” you confided in him softly.

you slide the baking pan into the oven with a slight screech from the metal on metal. you sat on the kitchen floor in front of the oven and set your timer, tom taking a seat next to you. “what are we doing?” he whispers through the silent air. “watching the muffins.”

the ‘watching the muffins’ eventually turned into you guys sitting on the couch kissing and telling stories. he’d tell you his set stories and you’d laugh and shake you head at him. the sight of them engrossed with each other was saccharine and sickeningly sweet. the familiar ding from your apple timer caused you to sit straight up and pull tom towards the kitchen again.

as you open the oven you look over to see tom, shirtless only clad in pajama bottoms licking the remaining batter off the spoon, illuminated by the moonlight and small warm lamps scattered around. before you can even realize that your hand was still moving, your skin came into contact with the boiling metal. you draw your hand back with a hiss and swear under your breath.

tom quickly turns the faucet to cold and places your hand under it, turning around to take the muffins out and turn the oven off. you start to quietly giggle as you pull him apart with your eyes, once again. “what happened, love? i thought you were a whiz in the kitchen.” he runs his hand up and down your back and you lean into him.

“i was, i am, i just couldn’t stop looking at you. you’re like a literal angel that i can’t believe is real.” you whisper to him while turning your head up to him and smiling. you hold your injured hand out to him “i almost died for you. that shows my dedication.” he scoffs and rolls his eyes before pushing your hand back under the water.

you both sat cross legged on the kitchen floor, each with a glass of milk in front of them and a muffin in hand. “so worth it. i don’t even need my left hand if i can have muffins forever” you joke with your mouth full with the pastry. tom raises his eyebrows at you “i, however, do think you might need both hands to function…and other activities.” he confidently spat out his sentence causing you to throw your head back laughing to hide the blush that made home on your cheeks and the warmth that tom manages to propagate throughout your body.

the speakers, who had been forgotten about, start to quietly leak out ‘stand by me’ and toms face lights up and pulls you up to meet him. he bows and sticks his hand out to you, asking for a dance. your smile cannot be contained as you take his hand and quickly remember you also cannot dance. the pair of you looks almost like a baby giraffe- although the giraffe might dance better.

you eventually give up on the waltz and wrap your arms around toms waist and hug him. “i’m really fucking tired.” you say into his chest and you feel his body vibrate when he laughs. you lift your head up and his comes down for your lips to meet. after more than enough kisses tom tries pulling you back to bed. “i thought you said you were tired?” “i am, i’m grabbing a muffin for the trip.”

you feel as if a piece of the sun had fallen down and nestled itself into your ribcage, but that’s just tom.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth fluff #william bonney smut #william bonney fluff #william bonney x reader #william bonney

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mercillery · 15 days ago

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MARINES AS GUARDIAN ANGELS!

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: this was a really random idea that’s been sitting in drafts for too long. someone please write more for the marines 💔

AOKIJI/KUZAN

As your guardian angel, Aokiji takes a chill approach—literally and figuratively.

Picture him lounging in an oversized beanbag cloud, sipping iced coffee (because hot coffee is just too much work) while keeping one lazy eye on you. He’s the kind of guardian angel who firmly believes in your freedom to live your life, make your choices, and occasionally trip over them like a newborn giraffe learning to walk.

“Growth, y'know?” he’d say with a shrug, ice cubes clinking in his drink. He's not hovering over you with a checklist of rules—he’s more like a life coach who doesn’t believe in micromanaging.

Aokiji's presence is undeniably calming, like a cool breeze on a sweltering day or the sound of rain when you're wrapped in a blanket. You won’t always see him stepping in, but that’s part of his method.

Subtle nudges? Oh, he’s got those in spades. You might feel an inexplicable urge to turn left instead of right, or decide to call it quits on a bad idea at the last second. That’s Aokiji for you. He’s like the universe’s “Are you sure about that?” pop-up notification—but without the nagging.

Now, don’t get it twisted: Aokiji isn’t lazy, he’s strategically hands-off. Why? Because he wants you to learn how to fend for yourself. “It’s your life, not mine,” he’d remind you, probably lying on a cloud hammock and tossing snowballs into the abyss for fun.

He genuinely believes in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself. He figures that if he’s always there holding your hand, you’ll never learn to walk on your own. “And besides,” he might add with a yawn, “you’d just get annoyed with me after a while.”

But let’s talk about when you mess up. You know those moments when you think, This is genius, but it turns out to be a disaster? Aokiji lets you go through with it—not because he enjoys watching you flail okay, maybe a little, but because he knows mistakes are part of the process. He might even be sitting there like, “Hmm, this’ll be a good lesson. Painful, sure, but memorable.”

Of course, he’s got limits. If your grand oopsie is about to land you in the ICU or worse, you’ll suddenly find yourself narrowly avoiding disaster, courtesy of a well-timed intervention. He’s not heartless, after all. “Eh, can’t let you die; that’d make me look bad,” he’d say with his trademark deadpan delivery.

The real humor here is in how he communicates with you. Instead of some grand angelic vision, you might get a sudden brain freeze while debating a bad idea. Or maybe a random bird drops an icicle near your feet, and you’re like, “What the heck?!”

Meanwhile, Aokiji’s up there smirking, muttering, “Message received, I hope.” He’s not about to hold neon signs that scream DON’T DO IT, but he’ll definitely leave breadcrumbs for you to figure things out.

Aokiji, as your guardian angel, is the embodiment of patience—like, Buddha-level patience, but with way more chill and significantly less sitting under trees. He doesn’t push, prod, or poke.

Instead, he’s the guy who casually tosses a single, offhand comment into the mix that leaves you spiraling into an existential crisis. You’ll find yourself staring into the distance, thinking, Wait… was that… wisdom? And it always is.

The kicker? He does it so rarely that every time he decides to share something meaningful, it’s like being hit by a truck made of profound truths. You walk away stunned, muttering, “Wow, okay, Mr. Cool Nonchalant Guardian Angel. Didn’t know I signed up for a TED Talk today.”

But those nuggets of wisdom? Oh, they stick. Some lodge themselves in your brain permanently, popping up at random moments years later, leaving you to wonder how this laid-back angel became a cornerstone of your moral philosophy. You’re not even mad about it. If anything, you’re a little awestruck. He’s like the personification of “quiet cool,” and every time he speaks, it feels like hearing the world’s calmest mic drop.

Aokiji’s ability to understand human emotions is almost spooky. He doesn’t just get you—he gets you.

You could be a sobbing mess of self-doubt and regret, and there he is, just vibing, no judgment in sight. “Yeah, you screwed up,” he’d say, leaning back like it’s no big deal. “But who hasn’t? That’s kind of the whole point of being human.” And somehow, those simple words are exactly what you needed to hear. If it were physically possible, he’d pat you on the back, but instead, you get a breeze, a faint chill, and a casual remark like, “Relax, kid. You’re doing fine. Maybe take a chill pill while you’re at it.”

He’s the angel you instinctively turn to during your worst emotional slumps, partly because he’s so good at making you feel better, and partly because you know he’ll listen without so much as raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t lecture or overwhelm you with advice; instead, he offers thoughtful insights that make you stop, think, and—more often than not—reassess everything you thought you knew. His words aren’t just comforting; they’re life-altering. You might find yourself walking away with a fresh perspective on your struggles, life in general, and the universe itself.

But here’s the kicker: Just when you’re about to thank him for being the coolest, most insightful guardian angel in existence, he’s gone.

Poof.

Out of sight.

You’ll look around, confused, only to realize he’s off napping somewhere, snoring like a chainsaw. He’s like that friend who gives you the world’s best advice and then immediately acts like it was no big deal. Honestly, you’re starting to think he does it on purpose—drops some wisdom, lets you stew on it, and then ghosts like he’s too cool for gratitude.

Still, you can’t help but admire the guy. Aokiji is the guardian angel you didn’t know you needed, with a knack for making you feel seen, understood, and, weirdly enough, okay with all the messy bits of life. Sure, he’s napping more often than not, but when he’s there? Oh, he delivers.

Aokiji is the kind of guardian angel who sees life not as a perfectly arranged puzzle but as a beautiful, chaotic mess—and he wants you to see it that way too. He encourages you to embrace the imperfections, those little unexpected quirks that make life worth living.

Spill coffee on your shirt during a meeting? He’d probably shrug and mutter, “Eh, you’ve got character now.” Trip over your own feet in public? “Style it out,” he’d say in your mind. If you’re too hard on yourself, he’s right there, reminding you to ease up. “Come on, kid, the world’s already tough enough. You don’t need to pile on yourself too.” His voice in your head is like a soothing balm for your overworked inner critic.

When it comes to guiding you, Aokiji isn’t about hand-holding or spoon-feeding. He’s more like the cool uncle who asks the kind of questions that leave you wondering, Wait, was that advice, or was he just messing with me?

He nudges, hints, and lets you figure it out. Trusting your instincts is something he wants you to master, and he’s there to give you the confidence to do it. But don’t expect a detailed PowerPoint presentation on what to do—this is Aokiji, not a corporate retreat.

Now, dangerous situations? That’s where Aokiji gets serious. He doesn’t mess around when someone—or something—threatens his human. If harm is coming your way, he steps in, ice-cold resolve and all, to make sure you’re safe.

He’s got a rule: if you mess up and learn the hard way, fine. That’s growth. But harm coming from another person? Absolutely not. He’s not about to let you get hurt on his watch. Whether it’s de-escalating a heated argument, keeping you out of physical danger, or just freezing the bad vibes in their tracks, Aokiji ensures you walk away unharmed, emotionally and physically intact. You don’t even realize how much he does for you half the time because, well, he’s subtle like that.

But here’s the best part—Aokiji’s big brother energy. Later that night, when the adrenaline has worn off, and you’re snuggled under your blanket, ready to doze off, he might quietly check in.

Maybe he descends from wherever angels chill out and, with his usual laid-back demeanor, murmurs, “You okay, kid?” And there it is again—that kid nickname. It’s not condescending, not in the least. It’s warm, protective, and a little teasing, like he’s the big brother you didn’t know you needed.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s technically an angel and not just your overchill sibling figure. He calls you “kid” so often, you half expect him to ruffle your hair one day.

Aokiji isn’t flashy or overbearing; he’s just there, in the best way possible—steady, reliable, and cool as ice. You feel safe knowing that, whether it’s finding beauty in life’s chaos or keeping you safe from harm, he’s always got your back.

KIZARU/BORSALINO

Kizaru’s style as your guardian angel is as perplexing as it is entertaining. He’s a walking enigma wrapped in golden light, delivering cryptic remarks that leave you scratching your head more often than not.

His approach? A strange mix of lighthearted teasing, unpredictable antics, and that signature laid-back demeanor that somehow manages to both calm and confuse you at the same time.

Imagine this: you’re stressing over a big decision, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Kizaru pops in with his usual drawl, “Oooh, what’s the rush? Doesn’t seem that urgent to me.” You turn to him, shooting him the most baffled “what?” look in existence, only to find him lazily smirking like he just walked off a beach. His expression clearly says, What? What?—and now you’re even more confused.

Naturally, you’re like, “What did you mean by tha—” but before you can finish, he casually snaps his fingers, and suddenly your coffee spills... somehow forming a perfect replica of a smiley face on the table.

You’re left staring at the mess, dumbfounded, as Kizaru stretches, mutters, “Guess that’s your sign,” and vanishes into thin air, leaving you no closer to answers but definitely distracted enough to forget what you were worrying about.

When it comes to intervention, Kizaru operates on a whole other wavelength. He’s not going to swoop down dramatically to save you from danger—that’s too ordinary for him. No, his methods are indirect and borderline bizarre.

Maybe he makes your phone randomly restart, delaying you just enough to avoid crossing paths with a reckless driver. Or perhaps your shoe suddenly comes untied, forcing you to stop and miss stepping into a bad situation.

It all seems coincidental, but then, just as you’re shaking your head at your “bad luck,” you catch the faintest sound, like a whisper carried on the breeze: “Oooh, close one.” It’s so distant, so ridiculously faint, that you almost convince yourself you imagined it. Almost.

Kizaru’s interventions always leave you wondering. Is he deliberately cryptic for fun, or is there a method to his madness? Either way, his unpredictable nature means you never know exactly what to expect.

One day, he might save you with the equivalent of a cosmic prank; the next, he’ll throw you a curveball disguised as the world’s most nonsensical advice. But that’s just Kizaru for you—never straightforward, always keeping you on your toes, and somehow managing to make you laugh in the middle of chaos.

Despite his laid-back attitude, Kizaru has an almost intimidating depth of knowledge and experience. He’s been around the cosmic block a few times, but you’d never know it by the way he casually tosses advice your way—if you can even call it advice. His pearls of wisdom tend to come wrapped in riddles and cryptic one-liners that make you feel like you’re playing some celestial guessing game.

You’ll stand there, trying not to pull your hair out, and blurt, “Can you just give me a normal answer for once?!” But no, not Kizaru. Instead, he’ll give you that trademark smirk, shrug in slow motion, and murmur something like, “Mmm… why do today what can wait until tomorrow?”

Then he vanishes, leaving you with nothing but your rising blood pressure and the gnawing suspicion that his nonsense will somehow make sense later. Spoiler alert: it does. And when it finally clicks, you’re equal parts impressed and annoyed because, of course, he knew what he was talking about all along.

But let’s not mistake his nonchalance for indifference. Beneath that carefree exterior, Borsalino is fiercely loyal to you. He might act like he’s just here for the vibes, but the truth is, he’s always keeping a close eye on you. His interventions are so seamless, so bizarrely timed, that they feel almost miraculous.

Picture this: you’re seconds away from stepping into a complete disaster, and suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear his voice drawl, “Ooooh… nice try, but no.” Before you can even process what’s happening, the threat is neutralized in the most inexplicable way.

One time, you’re about to walk into a room that’s about to collapse, and bam—the door jams before you can enter. You stand there, frustrated, yanking at the handle like it’s some kind of cosmic joke.

Later, when you realize what you narrowly avoided, you hear the faint echo of his chuckle. “Bet you’re glad you didn’t get in,” he’d say, probably lounging on a cloud, sunglasses slightly askew.

And his methods? Completely unconventional, borderline ridiculous, and yet undeniably effective. He doesn’t fight danger head-on. Instead, he works smarter, not harder, defusing situations in ways that leave you standing there, blinking, like, *Wait, what just happened?* Did the danger really disappear, or did Kizaru just bend the laws of reality around you for fun? Probably both.

Kizaru is the wildcard of the guardian angel trio, and oh boy, does he embrace the role with gusto. Unpredictable, occasionally maddening, and always one step ahead, he keeps you on your toes like it’s his celestial hobby.

His favorite pastime? Teasing you into oblivion. Whether it’s a cheeky remark about your life choices or a cryptic observation that leaves you spiraling in self-reflection, he somehow manages to fluster and enlighten you in the same breath. You’ll glare at him, cheeks puffed in frustration, and he’ll just raise an eyebrow, his smirk practically saying, “Did I say something wrong? Noooo… I don’t think so."

When life has you wound tighter than a violin string, Kizaru steps in with his patented chaotic chill energy to shake things up. He’s the angel equivalent of a “live a little” poster, casually reminding you to loosen up and stop sweating the small stuff.

Overthinking something? He might “accidentally” cause your phone to die mid-rant, leaving you forced to sit with your thoughts and, begrudgingly, chill out. Spilling your coffee? Misplacing your keys? Yeah, that’s probably him too. But hey, it’s harmless enough—just enough chaos to nudge you into realizing that life doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously.

His humor is his greatest weapon against your stress. Say you’re in the middle of a meltdown over tomorrow’s presentation; he’ll saunter in, leisurely as ever, and go, “Oooh… stressing already? You didn’t even mess up yet! Guess you like to start early, huh?”

Cue your annoyed groan as he lounges somewhere nearby, maybe filing his nails or inspecting his sunglasses. His nonchalant attitude can be infuriating, but deep down, you know he’s got a point.

And Kizaru isn’t just messing around—he’s strategic about his nonsense. He knows when to lighten the mood and when to drop a line that actually sticks with you. Sure, he can be playful, but his ultimate goal is to remind you that life is meant to be lived, not just stressed over.

Tomorrows’ worries? That’s for tomorrow. Today’s? Eh, deal with them and move on. He’s not about to let his adorable, flustered little human keel over from worry. "Can’t have you overthinking yourself to an early grave," he’d joke, smirking as you roll your eyes.

AKAINU/SAKAZUKI

Oh boy, where do we even begin with Akainu?

Strap in, because this guy takes the concept of “guardian angel” to a whole new level. You thought guardian angels were supposed to be all soft and comforting? Not Akainu. Nope. He’s not here to coddle you; he’s here to run your life like a military operation. Imagine having a drill sergeant and a guardian angel rolled into one, and you’ll start to get the picture.

Akainu takes his role very seriously. Like, obsessively so. His whole vibe screams, I will protect you at all costs, even if it’s from yourself, and you will thank me later.

And yeah, you do feel safe with him around, but let’s be real—it’s hard to relax when you’ve got someone barking orders about how to “make better life choices” while glaring at your empty water bottle like hydration is a personal affront. "Drink more water. NOW. How are you supposed to survive without proper hydration?"

He’s firm, he’s direct, and he does not mess around. If you so much as think about doing something remotely risky, Akainu is there, arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed in the most intimidating dad-face imaginable. “What are you doing? Did you think that through? No? Then don’t do it.” And if you try to argue? Forget it. “I’m your guardian angel, not your yes-man. Sit down.”

Anything he sees as a threat—bad friends, bad habits, bad decisions—gets obliterated faster than you can say, “But Akainu, wait—” Nope, no waiting. He’s already neutralized the problem, metaphorically or maybe literally incinerated it, and is giving you the look. You know the one. The look that says, “This wouldn’t have happened if you listened to me the first time."

And let’s talk about how thorough he is when it comes to your safety. During moments of crisis, Akainu’s got the whole situation handled before you even realize there’s a crisis.

Someone’s being aggressive toward you? They’re suddenly very apologetic. Demonic entity lurking around? They take one look at Akainu and nopenopeNOPE their way out of existence. Seriously, demons probably swap horror stories about him around their little demon campfires. “Yeah, I tried to mess with one of his humans once. Never again. The guy’s a walking no-fly zone."

His presence is like a massive, unyielding shield—a big, lava-hot wall of “try it, I dare you” energy. It’s comforting in a Wow, I’m invincible with this guy around kind of way, but also mildly terrifying because Akainu does not do half-measures. He’s all in, all the time.

Despite all his drill-sergeant-meets-volcano-dad intensity, Akainu has a surprising amount of faith in you. Shocking, right? He genuinely believes in teaching you resilience and strength. Sure, he’s the guy who will body-check a demon into another dimension if they even look at you funny, but he also knows that shielding you from every challenge isn’t going to help you grow.

So he lets you struggle a little—not in a cruel way, but just enough for you to toughen up and figure things out. But don’t worry, he’s got an internal alarm that goes off the second things get too real. Stakes too high? He’s there faster than you can say, “Wait, is this lava?”

Here’s the thing about Akainu: he values discipline like it’s a currency, and he really wants you to learn how to take care of yourself. But—big “but” here—he also respects your autonomy.

If you don’t want to listen to him? Fine. That’s on you. Just don’t expect him to take it lightly when your bad decision inevitably explodes in your face. “Oh, so this is what happens when you ignore my advice? Huh. Interesting. Didn’t see that coming. Except I did. I told you it would happen. Repeatedly.”

Even if you do ignore him, curse at him, or (heaven forbid) give him attitude, Akainu isn’t going anywhere. Sure, he might look like he’s about to erupt into a full-on volcanic tantrum, his metaphorical head steaming like an active geyser, but here’s the kicker: he’ll still protect you. Because you’re his human, and you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not.

And, yeah, he’ll scold you afterward. Oh boy, will he scold you. His lectures are legendary—part life lesson, part motivational speech, part “how do you not already know this?!” But underneath the frustration and the stern tone, you can tell it all comes from a place of genuine care.

His blunt, sometimes harsh advice might feel like a slap in the face (or a splash of molten lava), but it’s always honest, always unfiltered, and always rooted in his desire to see you thrive.

Akainu keeps a close, very close watch over your life. You think you’re sneaky? Think again. He’s analyzing every decision you make like a CIA agent reviewing classified files. If there’s even a hint of danger, he’s already two steps ahead, ready to intervene. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, ever.

You’re not going to get soft reassurances or “everything will magically work out” vibes from him. Instead, you get the no-nonsense truth, served with a side of tough love and a lot of crossed arms.

If you’re reckless, self-destructive, or just plain dumb about your decisions, Akainu is going to let you hear about it. You’ll practically feel his fiery glare boring into your soul as he gruffly commands, “Stop that.” Not a suggestion, not a request—just a straight-up order. And, let’s be honest, you’ll probably stop, if only because his tone makes it sound like not stopping would somehow make the Earth implode.

While Aokiji is all about sprinkling breadcrumbs and letting you follow the trail like some kind of life lesson scavenger hunt, Akainu is not about that life. Oh no. Akainu’s approach is more… let’s call it “visually and audibly overwhelming.”

Picture this: he’s standing in front of you holding a giant, blinding neon sign that screams, “DON’T DO IT!” Not enough? Don’t worry—he’s also got a roaring semi-truck idling nearby, a megaphone cranked up to the max, a PA system blasting the same warning on repeat, and, for good measure, an air raid siren wailing in the background. Oh, and fireworks. Big, loud ones spelling out, “I SAID NO.”

And yet, somehow, beneath all the volcanic intensity, Akainu has… a soft spot for you. Yes, Akainu, the walking embodiment of no-nonsense justice, has a tender side. Shocking, I know. Don’t expect him to go all mushy on you—he’s not about to hand out hugs or write heartfelt letters. His care comes through in a way that’s 100% Akainu: practical, efficient, and borderline bossy.

For instance, if you’re not eating properly, he’ll make sure you do—even if it means somehow orchestrating events so your favorite meal shows up at the perfect time. “Coincidence”? Please. That’s Akainu, silently shaking his head at your questionable life choices and ensuring you don’t faint from malnutrition.

Dangerous situation? Forget about it. You’re already being quietly guided away before you even realize the threat existed. Your environment feels oddly stable and secure? Yep, that’s him too, working behind the scenes like the overprotective angel he is.

It’s wild to think about, but Akainu really does care in his own gruff, no-frills way. He might not shower you with affection or words of encouragement, but his actions? Oh, they speak volumes. Because at the end of the day, Akainu’s brand of love is this: making sure his human is alive, well, and not being an idiot.

When it comes to emotional support, Akainu is… well, let’s just say he’s a bit out of his element. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he does, deeply—but the man wouldn’t know how to ask “Are you okay?” if you handed him a script and a teleprompter. Emotional vulnerability? Yeah, that’s uncharted territory for him.

If you’re having a rough time, he’ll ensure you’re safe and secure, no questions asked. Did someone hurt you? He’s already dealt with it—don’t ask how. Are you overwhelmed? Suddenly, your to-do list is mysteriously cleared, and your surroundings feel unnervingly calm. Did you notice your favorite comfort item conveniently reappear out of nowhere? Yeah, that’s him. He’s got your back, but don’t expect him to say it out loud. Words are not his weapon of choice—lava fists are, but we digress.

And, oh, he will check up on you later. Not in a “Hey, how are you holding up?” kind of way. No, his style is more... covert ops. Picture this: you’re fast asleep, blissfully unaware, and Akainu is leaning over you like a silent hawk, his brows furrowed as he inspects your face. Is your expression too tense? Are you frowning? Smiling? Breathing weird? He’s taking mental notes like it’s a military debriefing.

He might even mutter to himself while pacing. “They seem fine… I think. Maybe. But what if they’re not? Should I—no, that’s stupid. They’ll be fine. Probably.” Eventually, he narrows his eyes, nods in silent approval, and disappears back to wherever guardian angels hang out, fully convinced that his midnight reconnaissance mission was a success.

It’s almost sweet—if it weren’t just a tiny bit unsettling. But hey, that’s Akainu for you. He may not be a master of emotional nuance, but he’s got his own way of showing he cares. Whether it’s through practical actions, silent observations, or his “secret” check-ins, you know he’s always watching over you… in his Akainu way. And honestly? That’s more comforting than he’ll ever admit.

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inkspiredwriting · 7 months ago

Text

Maddie’s First Word

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

It was a lazy Sunday morning at the Hargreeves mansion. Five and Y/N Hargreeves were savoring the rare tranquility, enjoying the simplicity of a quiet breakfast together while their daughter Maddie played with her toys nearby. The sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

Maddie, now almost a year old, was a bundle of curiosity and energy. Her big, bright eyes constantly explored her surroundings, and her chubby little hands reached for anything within her grasp. Today, she seemed particularly focused on her favorite toy—a colorful, squeaky giraffe.

"She’s getting so big," Y/N mused, watching Maddie with a smile. "I can’t believe how fast time flies."

Five nodded, a rare look of peaceful contentment on his face. "Yeah, it feels like just yesterday she was a newborn. Now she’s crawling around and getting into everything."

They were in the midst of discussing their plans for the day when Maddie, sitting up with her giraffe, made an unexpected sound. "Dada."

Both Five and Y/N froze, their eyes widening in surprise. Had they heard that right? They exchanged a glance, then turned their attention back to Maddie, who was now babbling happily.

"Did she just say...?" Y/N started, her voice filled with wonder.

Five nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "I think she did. Maddie, can you say that again?"

Maddie looked up at them, her big eyes sparkling with the innocent delight of a child who had just discovered something new. She giggled, holding up her giraffe. "Dada."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, and she reached out to gently stroke Maddie’s cheek. "Oh, Maddie, that’s wonderful! You said your first word!"

Five scooped Maddie up into his arms, lifting her high and spinning her around, making her giggle even more. "That’s right, Maddie. Dada. I’m Dada." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his eyes shining with pride.

As he settled her back down on his lap, Y/N leaned in and kissed Maddie’s cheek. "We’re so proud of you, sweetheart."

Maddie, seeming to sense the joy in the room, beamed up at them. "Dada!" she repeated, clearly pleased with the reaction she was getting.

Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open, and Klaus waltzed in, humming a tune. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene. "What’s all the excitement about?"

Y/N, unable to contain her happiness, looked up at Klaus with a radiant smile. "Maddie just said her first word!"

Klaus’s eyes widened with delight. "No way! What did she say?"

Five, still holding Maddie, looked over at Klaus with a proud grin. "She said ‘Dada.’"

Klaus clapped his hands together, his face lighting up. "That’s fantastic! Maddie, you’re a genius!"

Maddie, ever the performer, giggled and waved her giraffe at Klaus. "Dada!"

Klaus laughed, ruffling Maddie’s hair. "I see she’s already got a favorite. Better step up your game, Y/N."

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I’m just happy she’s talking. We’ll work on ‘Mama’ next."

As the morning went on, the rest of the siblings filtered into the kitchen, each one sharing in the joy of Maddie’s milestone. Diego brought her a new toy, Allison sang her a sweet lullaby, and Luther lifted her up high, making her giggle with delight.

Five and Y/N watched it all with full hearts, grateful for their unconventional but loving family. Maddie’s first word was a moment they would cherish forever, a reminder of the simple, beautiful joys in life amidst the chaos.

Later that night, as they put Maddie to bed, Five and Y/N stood by her crib, watching her drift off to sleep. Five wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her close.

"Today was perfect," Y/N whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "I can’t wait to hear what she says next."

Five nodded, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. "Me too. But for now, I’m just going to savor every ‘Dada.’"

As they left the room, closing the door softly behind them, They knew that Maddie's first word would always be special for them.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot

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dontexpectmuch · 2 years ago

Note

sometimes jude gives himbo vibes (lets never forget he thinking mexican was a language lol) so what about headcanons of himbo jude and smart reader? I think this could be fun 😂😅

jude bellingham testing his partners patience could be like…:

you try your very best to help jude and his friend, gio, as much as you can when it comes to freshen up their general knowledge. you try. however, as soon as you talk about the first topic, a huge discussion erupts with both of them talking as loud as possible, trying to get their points through. and somehow you always end up in the middle, both of them trying to get to tell the other that their opinion is wrong.

“bro, a piranha could kill you.” gio laughs, looking at jude who only shakes his head scoffing with his hand squeezing your thigh. “not me, though.” he denies, now looking at you, in hopes that you would back him up. “don’t look at me like that, love, of course they can.” - “you should support me instead of that geezer!” he exclaims, offended that you would betray him like that. “bro, why wouldn’t it? have you seen them?” gio continued, not believing that his friend could be this naïve. “i’ll just swim away.” jude shrugged. both gio and you looked at him flabbergasted, no words found to describe how disappointed you felt.

explaining him different theories throughout the day, whether it was biology related or historical, became the new norm for you. it almost felt like playing teacher/pupil. jude somehow always comes up with the most interesting (?) questions ever. and instead of googling it or whatever, his first reaction is to go to you, the smartest person he knew. “babe, what did they say about the giraffe necks again?” - “babe, how can genes skip a generation? do they just, i don’t know, wait?” - “bro, what do you mean the proteins dissolve in heat?” you have to be patient, but also couldn’t help but coo at your boyfriends confused expression.

he uses your wide spectrum of vocabulary to roast his teammates or jobe in the group chat, never in real life, since he wouldn’t be able to pronounce everything correctly for the first time. it is usually in the evening, the two of you laying on the couch, a tv show softly playing in the background. “yo,” jude speaks up, his face focused on his phone, eyebrows drawn together and lips agape, “how do i say that he can go fuck himself and that i don’t care that he doesn’t want to do it, but, like, make it sound smart.” - “jude, what are you doing?”

sometimes, when his cluelessness gets too much for you to handle, you usually walk away, to a different room or something. just, something so you wouldn’t hit judes pretty little head with the next slipper you found. though, he is really mature and is able to keep a conversation flowing, he’d sometimes say something so out of pocket that one would have to be left alone for a while, just so you could comprehend what had happened. and jude would follow you, not giving you a chance to escape his weirdness, “bruh, c’mon it wasn’t that bad.” he’d laugh, his hands closed around your arm to pull you against his chest. “no, please.” you shake your head, trying to break free, “i can’t do this today.” -“babe! don’t be so mean.” - “love, what do you mean you thought mexican was a language? please, don’t do this to me.” hearing you say that caused him to laugh even more, eyes closed and head thrown back.

———————————

himbo bee effs for the win

#football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #football #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff

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mayflora-18 · 9 months ago

Text

Incorrect CoD Quotes #8

*Soap grabs a balloon filled with helium and inhales*

Price: Oh god not again!

Soap: HOW Are unicorns fake but a giraffe is real!?

Ghost: WHAT?

Soap: Like, what’s more believable?

Gaz: Where are you going with this?

Soap: A horse with a horn *aggressively claps on “horn”* ORRRRR a leopard moose camel with a 40 foot NECK?

Sherlock: I work with idiots 😑

———

Ghost: Does anyone else think…

Soap: That’s dangerous.

Ghost: That some people… just need a high five…

Price: That’s nice, Simon.

Ghost: In the head…

Roach: Yassss

Ghost: With a chair?

Gaz: Why are you like this?

———

Ghost: Okay, what does A stand for?

Roach: Arson.

Ghost: Aww you’re so good.

Soap: Okay B. What does B stand for?

Roach: Barson.

*Soap laughs*

Gaz: What stands for C?

Roach: Commit arson.

Ghost: Ooooooh!

Price: D!?

*Roach looks at Price and smiles*

Price, thinking: Please be normal.

Roach: Don’t come near me… I’m going to commit ARSON!!!!

*everyone else laughs*

Price, sarcastic: I raised him real well.

———

Sherlock: How did you take down Captain America?

Ghost, using a terrible German accent: Ve shot him in ze legs because his shield is ze size of a dinner plate.

König, overhears Ghost: …Fick dich🖕(“Fuck you” in German)

———

Ghost: Umm, do you have a pencil by any chance?

Rudy: No, but I have a knife…

Ghost: What-what?

Rudy: And I know how to cut a bitch… *whispers* Try me

———

*Rudy cooking in the kitchen*

Alejandro, walking in: Hey mi amor?

Rudy: ahuh?

Alejandro: If somebody told you they’d give you a million dollars for knocking me out, what would you do?

*Rudy immediately slaps Alejandro with a frying pan*

Rudy: Where’s my money?

Alejandro, on the floor: 😵‍💫

———

Roach, singing for Sherlock: Somebody come get her, she’s fucking up my dinner~

*Sherlock throws a plate at Roach and he falls down*

Sherlock, singing for Roach: Somebody come get him, before I fucking end him!~

———

Nikolai: There’s a spider!

Laswell: So what do you me to do?!

Nikolai: KILL IT!

Laswell: YOU SAW IT FIRST!

Nikolai: YOU KILL IT!

Laswell: You’re the man!!

Nikolai: Since when?!

———

Stupid-drunk!Roach to Sherlock: You so crazy… I think I wanna have your babies.

Sherlock: 😐

Gaz, thinking: I don’t know if I should be confused or just jealous.

Soap, just confused: How would that even work?

Ghost : I think it’s time for you to go to sleep, Roach.

———

Sherlock: Listen. Am I the most attractive person in the world?

Soap: Is this a trick question?

Sherlock: No. But do I have a great personality?

Price: *face palms*

Sherlock: Also no. But do I wake up every morning and try to be the best person I can be?

Ghost, has only heard the first half of this bit before: I actually don’t know this one…

Sherlock: No.

Nikolai: …Sweetie, did Ghost get to you?

———

Price : Repeat after me: I can do this!

Nikolai: I can do this.

Price: I’m ready to burn some calories!

Nikolai: I’m ready to burn some calories.

Price: I’m done eating fast food and drinking alcohol.

Nikolai: …I’m ready to burn some calories.

Price: Alright, let’s get started!

———

Soap, Gaz, Ghost: Ahhh

Soap: We’re d-d-d driving in a-

Gaz: Car! Destination drug dealer’s-

Ghost: Bar! Pass the mic over to Price-!

Soap: Shit, we forgot Price.

Ghost: …But we can’t turn back because we’ve too far!

Gaz: We have to turn back, though. We can’t leave him.

———

Alejandro: You eat so fucking gross, Graves. Do you eat like that on dates?

Graves, cheeks puffed up with meatballs and marinara sauce on his face: …I don’t go on dates.

Alejandro: Exactly. There’s a reason why no one takes you on dates.

Graves: Well damn! Who hurt you today?

Alejandro: Bitch nobody.

———

Graves: Hey, Sergeant. …Soap.

Soap: What?

Graves: *hands Soap a coffee cup* Try this coffee and tell me what it tastes like.

Soap: *takes the cup and gives it a sip* Hazelnut?

Graves: I don’t know, I found it in the garbage.

*Soap tries to spit it out*

———

Gaz: Nikolai, what’s wrong with Sherlock? She seems angry.

Nikolai: She’s totally fine.

Gaz: Okay? Well, where’s Graves?

Sherlock, walking into the room: Maybe he got sick… or went missing… OR GOT HIT BY A BUS!!

Gaz: 🙊

*Sherlock leaves the room*

Gaz: Totally fine, huh?

Nikolai: Yeah… Totally fine.

———

Nikolai: So, the man that tried to kill you - what did he look like?

Sherlock: He was so hot. It was crazy.

Price: O-ok. But what did he look like?

Sherlock: I mean where should I start? Uh, he was tall, you know, maybe 6’3” or 6”4”? Uh absolutely just jaaacked! But not like scary-body-builder jacked. Like, he was ripped but he still had a soft touch. You could totally fall asleep in his arms.

Price: Alright what did his face look like??

Sherlock: Well- uh- y’know Brad Pitt?

Price: Yeah?

Sherlock: Forget Brad Pitt. This guy was hotter.

Nikolai: Hotter than Brad Pitt??

Sherlock: Hotter than Bradley Joseph Pitt.

Soap: That’s crazy!

Sherlock: I would pay money to gaze into those eyes again.

Gaz: Even after he tried to kill you?

Sherlock: I almost wish he’d stabbed me to death and took his time doing it just so the last thing I saw could’ve been those ocean blue eyes.

Ghost: I’m getting a little hot just off your description so I can only imagine how it felt to be there!

Sherlock: Insane.

Gaz: Gosh I can’t believe he was hotter than Brad Pitt.

Ghost: Hey, what did she say about Brad Pitt?

Gaz: Oh, shoot! I-I-I-I I’m sorry!

Soap: Yeah, forget Brad Pitt!

Gaz: Done! Forgotten! Who is he?

Ghost: He doesn’t exist.

Soap: He’s gone.

Gaz: Bradley David Pitt is no more.

Sherlock: Good!

Price and Nikolai: 😑

(Note: Sorry there was no post yesterday! There will be more later, promise!)

#call of duty #incorrect cod quotes #inspired by youtube #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty oc #cod sherlock #chimera sherlock #gary roach sanderson #rudolfo parra #alejandro vargas #cod könig #kate laswell #cod nikolai #phillip graves #incorrect call of duty quotes

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azrael08 · 2 years ago

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One of my personal head-canons is that when Chuck was forming the animals of the world he asked all the angels to pitch in and create some animals of their own. So he obviously asked the archangels first, so I like the idea that Gabriel created platypuses, giraffes, kangaroos and seahorses.

Going along with this idea, I also think that Gabriel gets really happy whenever he hears people refer to them selves as seahorse dads (a term that pregnant trans men call themselves).

Castiel probably created a lot of cat species (tigers, panthers, lions, bobcats etc.) which is why he likes cats so much.

AND- I also believes that certain animals love their angel or archangel creators. So stray cats nuzzle up to Castiel’s leg whenever he’s near an alleyway. At victims homes their pet kitties jump onto his lap happily. And on one weird case investigation, a cougar licked his hand and moved aside after Cas asked if he, Dean and Sam could go through. Dean and Sam asked him about it later and Cas simply responded “She was just protecting her cubs, I assured her we meant no harm.”

This goes for Gabe too. He’s out on a lunch date with Sam or something and snaps them to the zoo because Sam says he’s never been. So they eventually get to the giraffe exhibit and Sam’s trying to take a picture of them but they’re so far away they won’t face his camera. Obviously, Sam being sad and pouty for the rest of the day because he can’t get the photo he wants won’t do so Gabe goes up to the railing and yells out to one of the Giraffes. It turns around immediately and starts walking over towards them along with all the others in the exhibit, Sam stands there in shock and watches as Gabriel rests his hands on the giraffes face lovingly then looks back at Sam, “c’mon Samela, Take a picture their posing for you”

#supernatural #supernatural headcanon #castiel #gabriel #dean winchester #sam winchester #chuck shurley #catstiel #sabriel #destiel

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castlebyersafterdark · 7 months ago

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do you think mike and will have thought about specific sex positions during their sexual awakening journeys? Like has Mike thought specifically, “I want to tap that” when looking at Will’s 🍑, or maybe also, “Please fuck me” if you believe he’s versatile? Has Will thought specifically about Mike topping him? Are they just a mix of chaotic random horny thoughts? Or are they both way too repressed and sheltered to mediate on specific positions?

Pre-relationship is the angle we're going for, and you bet! There’s repression, but the inevitable freight train of teenage hormones, trying to deny what you want and who you are, the fantasies you can’t ignore, falling in love, falling into confusion. A lot of tension, wet dreams and impulsive thoughts at inopportune moments. What started as vague feelings and stirrings of attraction develop into more specific fantasies. The more they repress and try to ignore, the more the feelings are gonna flare and develop. Chaos is key.

Mike:

His eyes keep falling to Will's legs. Those shorts. The summer has been a nightmare. Monsters. Death. Break-ups and make-ups and make-outs and break-ups again. And who knows where he stands with El. She stays inside a lot. And they’re leaving soon. Whenever the house sells. He’s been hanging out with Will a lot more, trying to fix their shaky friendship. Everything feels wrong. He feels the most wrong of all. Just one giant error. He feels inside out. Incorrect. You’re supposed to be happy in the summer. Now, it’s confusing and sad and he feels… exposed.

Like those legs. Mike felt like a newborn giraffe and hated the way he could see the knobs of his knees and the willowy tendons of his calves. Well, hate was a strong word. He just wished he looked more like Will. He saw other guys, and looked at them a lot, too. Couldn’t help the constant comparison and calculations and admiration jealousy. Will looked good. Why couldn’t he look like him? Nice, thick thighs. Actual meat on his bones. His shorts filled out, didn’t house pathetic pencils. Why can’t he stop staring? They’re all growing up and changing. It’s weird. The guys at school were already getting taller, and everyone’s gaining muscle and hair and it’s too much, all the sudden, all at once. They’re going to high school and, shit. Those guys are all gonna be even worse better. And Mike feels so scrawny. And other things. It’s just jealousy, he’s fine. He’s jealous of Lucas’s muscles and Jonathan’s shoulders and Will’s ass. No. That’s not - he wasn’t looking. He’s just jealous. He’s an error. Will looks so different than when they were kids, but he’s still small. Not everywhere. Why can’t he stop looking?

They’d gone to the pool and he’d laughed along with Dustin and Lucas as they ogled some of their classmates, ranking which girls filled out their swimsuits the best. It’s crude, but they were surrounded by sun and skin. He met eyes with Will and they smiled awkwardly at one another. Brian from their class has abs now and Mike watched him as he cannonballed into the pool. He hopes he does it again, golden in the sun as he poised to jump off the diving board. Mike’s just jealous. He doesn’t have abs. Will doesn’t either, but his skin looks nice. Tan and toned and with this tapered little waist that would be the perfect size to fit your hands around and - Mike needs to get out of the pool. Actually. Stay where you are. Getting out is the last thing he should do. Why is this happening to him right then, right there? Will gets out of the pool and Mike watches the way his already tiny swim shorts cling to that hypnotizing ass that Mike can’t stop staring at. Why does he look so good? How do guys even - no. No. Why is he thinking about that?

They're in the back of the car, three to the row and a tangle of growing limbs. Will's pressed against the door and practically half in his lap and Mike prays nothing happens, so many unfortunate moments have happened lately where he needs to excuse himself, stay in the water until it goes away, cross his legs. Can't do that pressed together in the back of the car and he tries not to think about pulling his best friend over into his lap. Sure! Great idea! That'll hide his really unfortunately insistent and inappropriate boner, shove it into his best friend's - oh boy, Mike. You are thinking so many things. He's got to get out of that car.

It's easier at night. No one to judge him or catch him except for his guilty conscience. Hopes no one is using that shitty mind-spying trick because he cannot stop his brain, and it's killing him. It's a repetitive loop of Will in his lap. Will climbing the ladder, walking ahead as they suffer in the heat as they trek up to Weathertop. Will laughing and absently swaying his hips as he leans against the Wheeler's kitchen island. How do guys do it? There's really only one way, isn't there? He's heard it referenced in vague terms on the news, from crude jokes from other boys at school. What would that feel like? Not that he has practical knowledge, but how different is it to doing it with a girl? He slides a hand past the waistband of his briefs and tries to think of his girlfriend or whatever she is at the moment. They talk here and there. Make-out sessions on pause. She’s in mourning. He’s in turmoil. He’s fine. He’s normal. He’s an error. This is fixable. He thinks of the girls at the pool. Neon bikinis. Curvy tanned skin, so much skin. Lip gloss and soft kisses. What’s he even supposed to do with boobs, anyway? They definitely don’t tell you, other than, hey, man! Look at her boobs! He looks. Sex seems complicated. Must be even more complicated for guys but maybe it's actually- NO. Nope. He gets off but it’s unsatisfying. What waits for him in dreams he refuses to acknowledge in the light of day.

It must be amazing, though, if gay guys were all doing it and risking threat of dying for it. Not that Mike's gay. Nope! Will leaves (and El, his girlfriend? Is she still his girlfriend? They kissed. He thinks she loves him. He doesn’t know what to think anymore. He didn’t say it back. Feels like the biggest, glaring error of all time) and Mike spends all his time alone in the basement. With his stupid traitorous brain and an empty space on the couch. No girlfriend. No best friend. He wishes Will was there. Will in his lap. Will on his knees on the basement floor smiling up at him. His mouth was just as nice to look at as his ass. Stop. No. She's too far away to spy. Is she? How far can she reach? Fuck it. His hand's around himself and it's Will's mouth, it's Will in his lap, kissing him, perfect legs heavy around him. Hot inside. Would he feel like that? Would he feel tighter than Mike's own fist? Will in his bed, in his lap again, wanting it much as Mike because he's just as messed up in the head, no. No he's not. That's all Mike. Will in the kitchen. No one's home. He's swaying those hips again and Mike pulls down those fucking shorts and bends him over the counter, chest to the laminate. He doesn't even know what he's doing but in his dreams they both want it.

Mike shifts to his side on his basement couch, then falls into it, lost to the fantasy. Pillow under his hips, face smashed into to the other one. It's nothing like another body but everyone's so far away, Mike's so alone. Will on his back, making those little squeaking sounds he makes when he laughs too hard. Too hard. Like how Mike was when Will laughed like that over the summer. His breathy little sounds he makes when he's out of breath when they walk too far in the hot sun. It's not too difficult to imagine what he'd sound like under Mike, even if Mike wishes it wasn't so vivid. Legs around Mike's waist as he takes it, however that works. Doesn't matter, Will's not there El's not in his head, he'll feel guilty later. Will would feel so good, does feel so good. Something’s seriously wrong with him.

How is he supposed to talk on the phone with him at the end of the week? They have a call planned Friday. He's so fucked.

Will:

He's having that dream again. He never knows it's a dream until he wake up, angry and frustrated and ashsmed about how hung up he is over someone who'll never want him. Shouldn't. Couldn't. It's all fine. This isn't new. They haven't spoken on the phone in almost a month but Will dreams about him most nights. What does he look like now? How tall has he gotten? Their last phone call Mike was complaining about his parents nagging him to cut his hair. Was that forced yet? How long is it? Will's sure it's beautiful. He's sketched his mental image of current Mike over and over in his sketchbook. He rips out and burns half of them. Those aren't appropriate. But he's gotten so good at drawing people. Realistically. Men. Mike. He dreams.

Mike's visiting him. No one else is around. They're lying on Will's bed, just kissing. He's never kissed anyone real before, but he's kissed his hand. Fist loose, thumb tucked under his fingers. Looks like something else, too, and he practiced kissing that as well. The thought makes him flush hot at same time as cold dread washes over him but he does it anyway. He's a dirty little freak, might as well commit. In his dreams they do that, too. And Mike likes it. Does it back to him, too. Dream Mike always returns the favor, no matter what. Will’s traced his own finger there, pushed inside sometimes with the secret tub of Vaseline he's hidden in an old shoe box under his bed. If he does it softly, he pretends it's a tongue, someone else's mouth. Doesn't even know why he's fixated on this, why his terrible mind conjured the idea one night during a dream that woke him with another pair of ruined briefs. But it's not as scary as the other way. All of it. All of Mike. How he knows that he wants it. He's having that dream again. He knows what he is.

Lost in dreamland, hazy and perfect and terrifying dreamland - Mike is visiting and Will has somehow gotten him into his bed. They're kissing. In dreams no one removes their clothes, they simply disappear. Will want to undress Mike, unwrap his beautiful body like a present, but in his dream they're kissing in his bed and their clothing has disappeared. And Mike wants him, Mike flips them so that Will's under him, completely covered. Legs around his waist, Mike sliding inside. How does that really feel? He's only managed two fingers so far and he just knows it's not enough to pretend that it's Mike. He's scoured the house for something, anything, that might be better than his own fingers and he's got a few fucked up ideas to try now that he's invested in this, too far down this path to pretend otherwise. He's a sick freak, right? And he'd tried not to look at Mike too often. But sometimes, you can tell. He could tell. Dream Mike thrusts inside and Dream Will lets him do it over and over. Everything's beautiful and no one dies.

Sometimes they're in Mike’s basement. He misses the familiar scent. A sweatshirt of Mike's had gotten mixed in Will's clothes and it smelled like Mike through most of the fall. By December it had smelled like nothing, but he still held it to his face sometimes when he wrapped a hand around himself and pretended. Dream Mike's big hands are on Dream Will's hips now. He thinks about other things, too. Will imagines himself sliding to the floor and using his mouth on him - a lot. Mike tells him such sweet things when he's on his knees. When he's awake he sticks his fingers in his own mouth and also pretends Mike is saying nice things to him in that sweet voice he misses so pathetically much. Telling him how much he likes what Will wants to do for him, what he wants Mike to do to him. When he's finished, Mike says every fear he's ever felt. He's not so sweet, then. Mike wouldn't. He might, if he knew. Will wouldn't blame him.

He knows some things. Ideas that have been put into his head after he stole that magazine and that book from that shop he found while wandering his new town. He steals things now, just for a kick. Innocent and sweet Will Byers. What's a little petty theft when you've already been to hell and will probably get sent back there? He's not a good person. What would his friends think? He can get away with it, in Lenora. Invisible. No one's watching his every move, whispering under their breath about his family and using one of those names about him, devastatingly accurate. He keeps the stolen items with the rest of his incriminating little hoard. If anyone finds the shoe box, at least it'll all be over for him at once. Fuck it. He flips the glossy pages and the images find him again at night.

Mike in his dreams looks nothing like the men in the magazines, but the gaps are filled in with their inspiration. A few closely guarded stolen glances while changing out of wet swim trunks at the lake or during that one really awkward sleepover when Mike and Lucas compared - no. He shouldn't have looked. He knew he did. Freak. The men in the magazines almost look ridiculous. But he loves it. Why does it excite him, seeing that? Why is he like this? Dream Mike lays in Will's bed and lets him look all he wants and sometimes that's all he does. Wakes up with the image burned behind his eyelids no matter how hard he blinked, and tears clear nothing. He sketches Mike lounging there, with his magical disappearing clothes without anything. It's a good sketch. He doesn't burn it. Into the shoe box. It's worse than the magazines.

More often or not when he comes, it's with Mike's name in his mouth and a heavy sob. He turns over into his pillow and cries himself back to sleep and hopes for empty dreams. For once. Give him a break from the taunting of harsh, terrifying truths and impossible realities. Helplessly devoted. Help help help.

#Spicy Byler #actually more sad and introspective and less spicy but that's OK !!!#clearing out old asks #HC #drabble

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bomber-grl · 1 year ago

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Hiro Hamada + tall reader ❤︎

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader (no pronouns)

Ok ok ok

So if you’re taller than him best believe he’s gonna always be casually offending you 😭

He’ll be laughing his little ass off whenever you’re near and tell you his stupid jokes

He’ll always compare you to a giraffe or ask “how’s the weather up there?”

Then proceeds to get upset once you start ignoring him 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Because this dude is like 5’0 then he’ll definitely use ask you to help him get stuff he can’t reach

It gets unbearable once he asks you and there’s a stool right next to the shelf

Besides using you as a servant for getting stuff for him he’s constantly asking you to give him piggy back rides 😭

At least only ever when he isn’t getting stiff from the physical contact

Like who does he think he is? 🤨

Doesn’t stop u from still doing it tho

Besides those “offensive” weird lil jokes he makes he thinks its pretty cool how tall you are

At some point he gets curious and asks how he looks from your perspective just to find out how deformed he looks 😭😭

Especially if you’ve been secretly taking those fish eye perspective pictures of hiro

He’s absolutely floored and it’s a blow to his big ass ego 😭

If you ever mention how short he is, well he’ll threaten you by saying he’ll eat your hair at night

(Sorry if you’re bald)

He’d always pretend you make his neck hurt from how much he has to crane his neck and feign annoyance by making you bend down

Honestly hiro isn’t really insecure about his height despite wondering when he’ll hit a growth spurt

So he’ll probably just forget about the whole ordeal tbh

Plus all his threats are honestly just empty and are easily forgotten 😭

Because of this the jokes eventually die down however you’ll still hear an annoying voice at the back of your head asking how the weather is up there

Aka hiro

Ik all I’ve been talking about how much hiro would center his jokes about his heights but that doesn’t make him safe 😭

This honestly gives you so much room to tease him about his height by calling him a “short king” to not only get him riled up but also cringe him out

Just turn the tables when he forces you to look at him at his level cuz his neck “hurts” and exaggerate how much you bend down to eye level w him 😭😭

He’ll absolutely be stunned and will be in denial

But he can’t even say anything cuz then he’d a hypocrite

Would probably give u the side eye anytime he saw you after you decided it’d be a bright idea to rest your arm on his head

It’d be even worst if it was done on accident and subconsciously too 😭

Your guys banter is honestly never ending but y’all know when not to cross the line.

Hiro would probs use your height to intimidate people who try to pick fights w him unprovoked (Yama)

Which is (all jokes aside) the reason he actually does like your height

He feels nice having someone around that he feels he can rely on, especially since you’re the same age

Idk but it just makes him feel like he can rely on someone closer to him.

#gn reader #male reader #female reader #fanfic #fluff #fanfic fluff #fluff headcanons #hiro hamada x reader #hiro hamada x gn reader #hiro x male reader #hiro x reader #bh6 hiro #hiro bh6 #hiro hamada #fluff fic #headcannons

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rockingrobin69 · 1 year ago

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Certainly

They went to three different venues and Harry was beginning to feel a bit like goldilocks in that story about the bears: the first place was too small, the second too dear, the third didn’t smell right. Yes, it didn’t smell right. Because apparently Draco was a connoisseur of scents, of sorts, and the patchouli and sandalwood was giving him a headache. They bickered all the way back to the parking lot.

About silly things: the washing they forgot to take out of the machine and the season for sheep-shearing, rocks versus stones and would a giraffe wear a tie at all to begin with. What if it was getting married Draco asked and Harry said then it would be in a full fucking tuxedo, wouldn’t it and they both snorted, still annoyed, and looked away at the sky where the rain they’d promised on the telly never came.

Draco’s fingers were clammy in his. It was muggy, and a little disgusting, and Harry was hungry and also possibly developing a slight headache. Not the sandalwood but the constant fucking blather, which truly was reeking. Harry wished he was smarter and just didn’t engage.

Was engaged, to be married, to this absolute arsehole. Grabbed Draco’s arm just before they got to the car, pressed their foreheads together. Breathed.

“We’ll find a place eventually.” He meant: it doesn’t have to be this hard.

“Maybe,” Draco huffed. He meant: it probably won’t be easy either.

“We can always get married in our back garden.” You know I’ll take you anywhere.

“You can always go fuck yourself in the back garden.” Take me somewhere better than our own bloody garden.

“Shut up.” Kiss me, you git.

“You shut up,” Draco said, and put his arms around Harry, probably meaning something with it, too. Didn’t kiss him. Took Harry’s chin and lifted it up just a touch. “I can’t believe,” he swallowed, blinked those never-ending eyelashes, “we’re actually doing this.”

“Yeah. We’re doing this.”

“Getting married.”

“The whole thing.”

Draco’s eyes were huge against his. “Are you sure,” he stopped again. Wrinkled his nose, bit his bottom lip. This thing in Harry’s chest went rampant, lightweight and impossibly tight. He kept thinking, it’s going to rain, it’s going to finally happen and we’ll get soaked and have to run to the car and we’ll tell this story when people ask, we’ll have the rest of our lives to tell this story, this one right here.

It didn’t rain. The air was stuffy and oddly warm, and although it threatened to, it never rained.

Still he kissed him, in the parking lot of the hotel that didn’t smell right. Draco made a little sound into his mouth, soft and surprised, kissed back. He was a fucking arsehole and they might just end up getting married in their back garden after all. It’ll be a disaster, whatever they do, but this moment will always smell like this: disgusting and warm and Draco.

Yes. Harry was sure.

#drarry fic #soft #planning their wedding would be a disaster #they went to a barn a castle and a hotel #in the end they'll get married under a gazebo in the pouring rain #it'll be disastrous and impossibly sweet and everyone will cry #fluff #rockingrobin69 #500 words

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shyphonics · 10 months ago

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Salad Days Chapter 4: When Archeologists Dig This Up, They'll Either Laugh or Cry

(babypunk!Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

also, please take my favorite live performance of rise above by Black Flag as a companion piece

Hey!

I do not like you college brat

I do not like you and your frat

I do not like you at the shore

I do not like you drunk on coors

I do not like your average life

I hope you do not take a wife

I hope you don’t decide to breed

Cause that’s one thing I do not need

Well, they did it. They’ve got a van full of booze, and a sense of self satisfaction.

It had taken a while to fit everything in, and the guy at the pickup spot hadn’t been very nice, but they did it.

Mike seems more calm when they show up to The Strike, happy to see them, even.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you giraffe of a man!” He pulls Rodrick into a hug, heartily patting him on the back. Rodrick does kind of feel like a giraffe, Mike only comes up to the middle of his chest.

“Hey, if there’s anything else you need, just let us know!” Rodrick gives him a smile.

He grabs a box of bottles and heads through the back door of the bar. The guys work like ants; grab a case, march to the walk in, march back. They’re done in no time. He wonders if the delivery center is hiring, because that was easy.

Mike shoves a bundle of money into his hands, and gives him another pat on the back.

“She was right about you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve got the spirit,” he smiles, “like a young Henry Rollins, slingin’ ice cream. See you tomorrow. Show up at 5 PM, load in here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Rodrick nods.

The spirit. He has no idea what that means, but he’s grateful for the sentiment. Especially if you’d said something nice about him… he finally has ammo to tease you back.

Mike disappears into the back of the bar, and the guys regroup to count their unexpected pay.

“Dude, he gave us a hundred dollars!” Chris says, shocked.

They recount again and again, coming to one hundred every time. They can’t believe it, and they speed away from the bar with the radio turned all the way up.

The rest of their day is spent planning. They craft the perfect setlist, they find their tightest jeans, they even find time to learn a surprise cover song. It's one he'd heard on your radio shift, and it's been stuck in his head all day.

Everything has to be perfect.

Rodrick is sure everything is gonna be perfect.

It’s only 5:30 by the time they’re done setting up, and they find themselves just standing in front of the stage, awestruck.

It’s not huge by any means, but it’s high off the ground and covered in lights. There’s a full PA system, and even a pole to hang their homemade bedsheet flag from.

The bar is empty, except for a guy in the sound booth, Jimbo by the door, and two bartenders prepping. Rodrick doesn’t see you, and immediately gets a pang of sadness.

“Hey,” he starts, leaning on the bar.

“We can’t serve yet, sorry.” A girl with tight blonde curls shuts him down.

“Oh, no, I was gonna ask… where’s the other girl that works here?”

She thinks for a moment, then makes a face of realization.

“Oh, she’s not working tonight. She’s headlining.”

Rodrick’s eyes go wide. Headlining? You? His mind is blown.

The bartender goes back to prepping without giving him a second thought. Rodrick walks back to the stage, zombie-like, deep in thought.

Now they really have to be perfect.

A few people have come in through the back, and they’re setting up portable tables along a wall.

“You guys need one?” A girl with tall, spiked hair asks.

They look at each other. Merch. Duh. They're pretty sure they have an unorganized cardboard box of t-shirts and buttons in the van. Ward had spent all his high school graduation cash on some real ones from a print shop.

Ben and Chris wedge the table out from between two vending machines, and Rodrick digs the box out of the van. It’s not a very impressive setup, but they’re pretty happy with themselves.

The doors open at 7, and it doesn’t take long for the place to fill up. Mike comes by and gives each of the guys three little paper tickets, like you’d get at an arcade.

“Beer tickets,” he says, before they can ask, “one of these gets you anything canned or bottled. Be nice to the bartenders, please.”

Ward and Ben high five and head straight to the bar, Chris heads to the bathroom, and Rodrick does a full scan of the area by the stage. Where are you? He needs to make fun of you for being nice to him, dammit.

Ward and Ben get back, looking a little shaken up.

“Rodrick, hey, do you want us to get you a beer?” Ben chuckles nervously.

“Nah, I can get it myself,” Rodrick starts to walk towards the front.

“No, no,” Ward puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You should really let us get you one!” Ben makes urgent eye contact.

“Why...?” Rodrick is starting to get freaked out.

“‘Cause we’re buddies!” Ward pats him on the shoulder.

Something is definitely up.

Rodrick pushes past Ward, walking through the tall arch that leads to the bar area. It’s absolutely packed. His heart skips a beat when he sees a flash of golden blonde hair.

Oddly familiar golden blonde hair.

The girl turns around.

No. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that it’s-

“Heather Hills,” Rodrick whispers, grateful for the loud house music.

She’s sitting at the bar with a large group of people. Some douchebag with a double popped collar has his arm around her. They’re all laughing- the kind of laugh you do at someone. Snotty.

Any attraction he’d had to her has been completely gone for years. He feels a mix of hatred and nausea. They’re at the far end of the bar, by the door, so Rodrick blends in at the other end.

Please don’t look at me.

He gets a beer from the bartender from earlier, making sure to tip as your snarky reminder rings in his head. Also making sure to avoid Natty Light. He turns fast to get back to the stage, and right before he’s through the arch-

“Rodrick? Rodrick Heffley?”

He wheels around. She’s right fucking behind him.

“Oh, hey, what was your name again?” He rolls his eyes.

“Real mature, asshole.” She scoffs, “What are you doing here?”

“Playing a show. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aww, you don’t wanna play nice with me?” She drags a finger down his chest. It enrages him.

“No. And you know why?” His voice goes low. He leans down so his face is close to hers, and he’s about to let everything out. Her face is smug, and she raises her eyebrows.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his back.

“Hey, you’re on in ten. Soundcheck time.” You peer around to see Rodrick's face. He looks pissed. You’re not sure what’s going on, but it’s none of your business. You’re just the messenger.

Rodrick’s eyes bug when he sees you, and his face relaxes a little.

“Um, excuse me, we were talking.” The blonde girl sneers at you.

“You can talk later. We gotta get this shit rollin’.” You don’t wait to see her reaction. You just turn around and head back to the stage.

If you’re honest, it's a little disappointing seeing Rodrick with, you assume, his very pretty girlfriend. It makes sense though. He's a nice looking guy. Your official assessment is toxic on-again, off-again high school sweethearts. Oh, well.

Just keep walking. Stay on schedule. Five bands, twenty minute sets, ten minutes for stage change. You repeat it in your head like a mantra.

Heather’s mouth is hanging open. Rodrick winces.

“Gotta go,”

He practically runs to the stage.

They’ve never done a real soundcheck before, and it’s kind of an intimidating process. The sound engineer is very no nonsense. Rodrick checks his drums one by one. Then bass, guitars, mics. Each adjustment is barely noticeable to them, and they end up just giving a thumbs up every time the engineer asks a question. Finally, they run through the whole chorus of a song to hear everything together. By that point, the dance floor is almost entirely full.

Rodrick takes a deep breath, scanning for Heather. He hopes she just left.

They've come a long way since their high school days, no longer unpracticed wannabes. Their sound has become pretty good, if they say so themselves. Tonight's only adjustment is to play faster.

The sound guy points at them, and Ben clears his throat.

“We… are Löded Diper!”

The chatting in the crowd subsides, and falls silent.

Rodrick hears snickering, and a voice saying oh my god, that IS him!

He panics, and right when the tension is almost too much to bear, a loud WOOOOOOOO comes from the very front. He looks and sees you, trying to rile up the crowd. It seems to be working. Other people are giving half-hearted cheers, which is something at least.

“That's more like it!” Ben yells, and they launch into their first song.

They only have a five song set, so everything has to count. Ben’s wails are powerful, he's really embodying a frontman. Chris is whipping his hair around, and Ward is the true picture of a bassist. Strong, still, and holding it all together.

Rodrick is hyper-focused on keeping the rhythm. And maybe showing off, just a little bit. He puts his whole body into hitting the drums, his mouth pulled into a tight “o”.

You have a perfect view from the front row, and what a view it is.

He's killing it. So focused and steady, but it looks like he's having fun. He leans into the mic to sing backup, and you get a flash of his sharp canines. You can see the muscles in his arms clenching, and the front of his hair is wet with sweat.

You feel your face getting hot, and you're reluctant to admit it's not just from the packed room. You’re suddenly faced with the very real possibility that you're very attracted to him.

He gives you a huge grin and a wink between songs, and it's no longer just a possibility. Fuck.

Blasts of air from his bass drum cool your face down, and you stare at him a little closer, analyzing.

You've been infantilising him a little bit, you'll admit it.

Kid. Cute. Baby boy.

Although you’re pretty sure the two of you are the same age, he just comes off like a teenager. You couldn’t help but haze him a little bit, especially after he just wandered into the bar with no plan. He’s really proving himself right now.

The crowd is going crazy. You’re holding yourself up on the edge of the stage, but behind you, a sizable pit has opened up. People are loving them.

“We have one more!” Ben shouts. People are screaming.

“We learned it just for you!” Rodrick yells. There’s something snarky about his tone. You like it.

You recognize the song immediately. Their rendition is just a little clunky, but it works. You can't help but smile, and wonder if Rodrick somehow heard your radio shift last night.

It's such a good choice for a first show. Perfect, really. It's like they're saying, we're here, fuckers.

You let the crowd swallow you up as you sing along.

Society's arms of control

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

They think they're smart, can't think for themselves

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

Laugh at us behind our backs

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

I find satisfaction in what they lack

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

We! Are Tired!

Of your! Abuse!

Try to stop us!

But it’s! No use!

The aftermath of their set is chaos. Good chaos, but chaos. They tear down their gear and load up the van. On their way back in, people are yelling and patting their shoulders as they walk by.

Hell yeah, dude!

Good set, bro!

It feels good.

A small crowd has formed at their merch table. Chris takes on the task of handling the sales, and before they know it, their box is nearly half gone. They hadn't expected that.

Another unexpected side effect of playing a good set: booze.

Once the merch crowd is gone, old rocker types materialize, holding out shot glasses and cans. One guy hands Rodrick a shot of something that burns, and puts a heavy arm around his shoulder. He starts up a conversation about drumming, which is really more like a monologue.

You were great out there, man. Who's your favorite? Like, who's your guy? It's Lars for me, bro, 100%. I saw Metallica in ‘88, bro. Busted a knee in the pit, and now I can’t play a double pedal no more. Where'd you learn to play like that? You could play like Hellhammer with those arms. Fuckin’ rock on, brother. Oh, hey, sorry, I was supposed to give you this lime to help with the tequila...

Rodrick’s head swims as the guy babbles, nodding his head like he's listening.

“Thank you,” he finally sighs out. He’s exhausted from just listening to the guy. He pops the lime in his mouth, and it does help quite a bit.

People just keep coming with shots, and beers, and stories, and the guys end up piss drunk before the second band is done setting up.

Rodrick smiles and looks around. He's having fun. They did what they came to do, and people actually liked it. The rest of the guys are making conversation with the other bands. Heather and whoever else had been laughing at him are nowhere to be seen, and he's happy.

Even happier when you appear in front of the table.

“Heyyy!” He yells, giving you a singular finger gun, his other hand occupied with a beer can.

You take one look at his half lidded eyes and lazy smile, and realize he's wasted.

“Are you drunk?” You cackle, “It's not even 8:30!”

He turns, and spits a sucked-dry lime slice into the trash can next to him.

“Shut up! You're drunk!” Rodrick points at you, smile still wide.

“Oh, man. You're gone. Your girlfriend is gonna be pissed!” You laugh.

The drunk-happy look fades from his face.

“My huh?”

“That girl you were talking to you. Girlfriend, right?”

“No fucking way!” he bursts out laughing, “She’s a rich, stuck-up asshole! She's an evil witch from hell!” He downs the rest of his beer.

“Harsh, but I believe you.”

Well, that settles that.

You wonder if Rodrick has ever been this drunk in his life. He doesn't seem like he knows how to handle it, but he seems to be having a good time, at least.

“Hey. You did really, really good. You killed it. I mean it.” You lean on the merch table and smile up at him.

Rodrick’s eyes are sparkling, and his smile is somehow bigger than before.

“You liked us?”

“I loved you guys. Everyone did. They're totally gonna have you back.”

He looks like he might cry.

"Hey, don't I get a shirt? Wasn't that part of our deal?"

Rodrick thinks hard, finally remembering.

"Oh yeah!" He shouts.

He ducks down under the table and rifles through a big box. You lean over and tell him your size. He looks deeply focused.

He finally resurfaces, and holds up the shirt, triumphantly. You take it and sling it over your arm.

"Thanks," you smile, "I'll wear it all the time."

He beams.

You hold out your hand, and he hesitates for a second before grabbing it.

“You wanna come stand with me? The next band is up.”

Rodrick’s heart soars.

You lead him to the middle of the crowd, where three other people are gathered, talking.

“This is my band: Maureen, Jessica, and Eddie.”

Rodrick is seeing double at this point, but he smiles and waves. He thinks he sees a girl with ridiculously long black hair, a girl with very short green hair, and a guy with little round glasses.

“Good set,” the guy gives him a fist bump.

Before they can talk any more, a microphone squeals. Everyone in the crowd is at attention. Rodrick blinks to try and focus in on the stage; the next band has set up a giant, inflatable palm tree and some yard flamingos. They're all dressed for the pool, it seems like. Big, bright board shorts and floaties. The singer is barefoot, and has a megaphone in hand.

“May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please,” his distorted voice comes through the megaphone, “The president of the United States is an insect! All your lives are a lie!”

The next few minutes are a blur of sound and color. Rodrick can’t process anything that’s happening in front of him. The music is weird, but good. Messy. The words don’t make any sense. His body is starting to sway uncontrollably, and he’s worried he might topple over.

His shoulder bumps yours, and you look up. He doesn’t look so good. You grab his hand again and lead him out of the crowd, all the way to the front patio, stopping to grab a water on the way.

Cool air hits Rodrick’s face, and he feels at ease. You help him into a low metal chair, and he stares up at you, helplessly.

“Are you good?” You push his hair up, away from his forehead, and hand him the cup of water.

“That was a lot,” he breathes, dazed.

“Chug that water, you’ll feel better,” you lean on the railing next to his chair, “and no more booze, big boy.”

“I thought I was baby boy,” Rodrick slurs, smirking.

“I think you’ve transcended that term,” you laugh, “unless you want to be baby boy.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re so weird,” you give his chair a little kick.

He sticks out his arm to catch your leg, and chugs the whole water in one go.

He lifts your leg a little higher, slinging it over his shoulder. You’re speechless. That’s pretty smooth.

"You said something nice about me," he slurs in a sing-song voice, "Mike told me."

"Oh yeah? What did I say?"

Rodrick thinks hard. What was it again?

"Something about... spirits? And ice cream."

"Okay, buddy." You shush him, "Just take some deep breaths."

It’s kinda nice, just sitting with him in silence. The last bit of daylight is leaving, and everything is shrouded in a faint blue.

“I think I like you,” he says quietly, not looking at you.

“I think you’re drunk. Get back to me in an hour.”

“Can I like you in an hour?” He holds your leg a little tighter.

“Go nuts,” you chuckle.

You don’t move your leg, though.

You sit together until the set ends, and people start to file out onto the patio.

“You wanna go back in? Your friends are probably worried.” You bounce your leg a little to get his attention.

“Yeah. I have to pee so bad.”

Another trans-am’s wrapped itself around a telephone pole

“I ain't drunk, officer, I just fell getting out of my car.”

Don't worry about it, son. We were that way when we were young!

You've got all the skills to make a damn good business man!

Rodrick stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, breathing deep. He feels a lot better after some fresh air and the longest piss of his life.

A stall door opens, and a familiar face shows up next to his.

“Heffley? Shit, that really is you.”

Bryan Kent is a bonafide asshole with a football scholarship, who'd made Rodrick’s life a living hell back home. He really doesn't feel like reconnecting right now.

“Yep. It's me.”

Rodrick turns to leave, but Bryan blocks the door.

“You're not even gonna say hi, diner dork?”

“Fuck off, Bryan. I'm not in the mood.”

Bryan pushes him, and Rodrick feels all that old rage bubbling up. He's still a little wobbly on his feet.

“Did the cops ever catch you for what you did?” Bryan takes a step towards Rodrick. He feels all the blood leave his face.

“Actually, one of my buddies from back home just passed police academy. You wanna come back to our table and put in a little confession?”

“Fuck off,” he pushes Bryan back hard, sending him right into the door.

You're waiting outside the bathroom, and starting to get just a little worried. One of Rodrick’s bandmates- Ward, you're pretty sure- is still by their merch table.

“Hey,” you smile at him, “Rodrick went into the bathroom kind of a long time ago. He was pretty wrecked, and I'm starting to get worried. Could you…?”

Ward is around the table before you can even finish your sentence.

“Don't worry, I got him.”

As Ward opens the bathroom door, another guy walks out, laughing.

“What the fuck?” Ward yells.

You come up behind him and see Rodrick, lying on the floor, face bloody. Your mouth twists into a sneer. Fucking frat boys.

You march to the front of the bar, and lean in towards Jimbo’s ear.

“Him. Out.” You point at the offender, who's still flexing his busted knuckles like a jackass. Like it's something to show off.

“Had a feeling.” Jimbo sighs, standing up.

Rodrick’s head is pounding.

He opens his eyes to see Ward, looking devastated.

“Dude, what happened? Can you get up?”

“Fucking… Bryan Kent,” he coughs out.

Ward helps him to his feet and hands him a bundle of paper towels. Rodrick dabs at his bloody nose and lip in the mirror.

Of course. Of fucking course one of those assholes would show up tonight, of all nights.

He takes a few moments to just stand there and recover.

“That was fucked up.” Ward breaks the silence.

Rodrick just nods.

They emerge from the bathroom and there's what looks to be a full on brawl at the front of the bar. Rodrick sees you walking quickly towards him, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Jeez, look at your lip.”

You bring your hand to his face and take a closer look. It doesn't look like he needs stitches or anything, but his bottom lip is swollen, with a dark line in the middle. Blood is quickly drying up in one of his nostrils.

Rodrick jumps a little, and suddenly feels a whole lot better under your gentle touch. He gets lost for a second, just looking down at your worried face.

“I shouldn't have let you in there alone, I'm so sorry.” You murmur.

He smiles, but a yell from up front brings him back to reality.

“It’s cool, I'm fine. What's going on up there?”

“Well, we asked your... acquaintance to leave, and he didn't want to. And he's got friends.”

“Should we go up and help?” Ward clenches his fist, smiling slightly.

Rodrick’s other bandmates have joined the circle.

“I'd stay out of it, they've got it.”

You all observe as Jimbo drags Bryan out the front door by his ear. A second drunken dickhead is yelling I'm a police officer! Get off me! as a second, equally huge guy hauls him off.

Rodrick notices Heather following them out, rolling her eyes.

“Are we all good?” Someone from the stage asks into a microphone.

Oh yeah, there's still a show going on.

You all shrug, and head into the crowd together.

You take Rodrick's hand again, and give it a little squeeze. He turns to look at you, and smiles.

"Are you really okay?" You yell over the music.

"I'm really okay." He squeezes your hand back.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#sorry if this is too long lmao #im having fun #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley fanfic #doawk rodrick #salad days #my stuff

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