Hey Guys Im Sorry I Haven’t Updated, I Literally Got Evicted From My House And Had To Sleep On My Car

this au is the funniest thing ive read in a while

35MM CHAPTER NINE: “making my film major roommate watch bad movies”

track nine: so real by jeff buckley

masterlist

-> fun facts!

occasionally kenma will invite each of his roommates to join him on various streams

usually iwa does fighting games and noya will join for like challenges and things like that; yn joins the least because she's typically the busiest

he always pays them a fair portion of the revenue from the stream for their work

'making my film major roommate watch bad movies' has a couple of episodes, they've watched the live action avatar the last airbender, zombeavers, and cats (2019)

for those of you who DO NOT KNOW here is the plot of old (2021)

a family goes on vacation and the hotel sends them to a special beach and there are other hotel goers there while they're there the beach makes them age rapidly and most of them die but two escape and it turns out the hotel goers were testing treatments on the families who all have some kind of chronic illness and they were seeing how the treatment work over a lifetime

but the lifetime is really short bc the beach makes you old

i hated this movie so much it made me the angriest ive ever been in my life

if you like old im so sorry but you are wrong i hate that movie like i still respect you but you are wrong

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @bookworm-center @kettlepop @makkiroll @atsumou @eyes-ofhell @kawaii-angelanne @ryeyeyer @k8nicole @mydearchoso @phoenix-eclipses @lixie-phoria @suitstars @reneny @scxrcherr @ueknightbl @iluvaquaphor @sleezzsister @barricadesenthusiast @staygoldsquatchling02 @nemesii @sereniteav @crimsoncamra @gsyche @evening-latte @rrosiitas @kunimix @kitnootkat @aquariarose @iluv-ace @sparkei

Free Palestine

Do your daily clicks! • eSIMS for Gaza • PCRF

I debated just posting these and not making a statement but I can’t, I never look away from injustice but I’m always afraid I can make it worse by saying the wrong thing. Stop paying attention to the Met Gala. Eyes on Rafah. Be a voice for those that are oppressed. And to anyone that might complain about this or say it’s antisemitism: people are dying, CHILDREN are dying. I love my Palestinian followers and friends, I had these queued from a request but I didn’t want to put a target on the requester’s back since it wasn’t anonymous. Genuinely my heart breaks for all those suffering. That’s all there is to it. Free Palestine.

Edit 6/11/24: this is officially one of my most shared sets and I’m so glad it is. That being said I have a proposition:

Get this to 1.5k and I’ll post a picture of my dogs

The goal is to keep spreading the information and links I added to the top ❤️ good luck!

Girlll how about Miguel x Hispanic!Wife! Reader and Miguel comes home all beaten up and shit with his suit glitching and she asks what happen and he explains how he chased down miles and she yells at him for beating up a child. Like full on Hispanic mom mode then she gets all soft with him and patches him up and cooks him something nice 😊

YOU WHAT?

omg bettt, sorry this took so long, I wrote it and forgot to save it before closing the app and lost everything 😭

Miguel O’Hara x Hispanic!Wife Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Swear words

You and Miguel had been married for some years, you both met at the spider society, but ever since you got pregnant Miguel became too protective of you and insisted on you taking a break, he didn’t want you to make too much effort and hurt yourself, or even worse, he couldn’t handle the thought of losing another child or losing you, so eventually you gave in to his wishes and took a break.

You were cleaning your house (even though Miguel told you he would do it when he came back) while listening to songs that you’re sure you learnt from listening to them when your mom cleaned when you were younger, you know those sad old lady songs like the ones from Amanda Miguel, Pimpinela, Rocío Dúrcal, and artists like that “Amor, de verdad pareces una señora dolida” (Love, you’re acting like a depressed old lady) Miguel told you once when he came home to you screaming your lungs out to Así No Te Amará Jamás as if you had been through three divorces and four infidelities.

Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door aggressively open and heavy footsteps, you became excited as you knew that Miguel had finally arrived, but when you heard that he was stumbling around and you turned to him you were shocked. You saw your husband covered in bruises and wounds, and his suit was glitching, you hadn’t seen him like that in such a long time, you weren’t even sure that you had ever seen him that bad.

Hearing him groan in pain pulled you out of your shock state and you soon started to realize how messed up he actually looked.

“AY MIGUEL, QUE CHINGADOS TE PASÓ?” (AY MUGUEL, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU?) you asked shocked

“Nothing, im fi-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence without whining in pain

“Ay no, no me vengas con esas mamadas de que no te pasó nada y que no se que chingados, no puedes ni siquiera decir una oración completa y dices esas pendejadas de que estás bien? Yo no soy pendeja y tu lo sabes Miguel, a mi no me ves la cara. Dime que chingados te pasó antes de que yo me entere por mi cuenta.” (Oh no, don’t come tell me that dumb shit of nothing happened, you can’t even finish a sentence and you say that you’re fine? I’m not dumb and you know it well Miguel, you are not lying to me. Tell me what the fuck happened before I find out by my own)

“I already told you i’m fine my love, you don’t need to worry about me, really” he was now sitting down on your couch

You approached him and you now had a clearer view of his wounds “Ay no, mírate cómo estás, no no, estoy bien mis huevos, iiiih, no mames me estás manchando mi sillón, neta si no me vas a decir que te pasó mínimo déjame ayudarte con tus heridas amor” (Look at you, no no, I’m fine my ass, oh my god and you’re staining my couch, if you’re not gonna tell me what happened at least let me help you with your wounds love)

“You really don’t need to, I can do it mysel-“

“Ya cállate, te voy a ayudar porque te voy a ayudar y tu te vas a dejar, y si no te dejas donde vea que se te infectan las heridas vas a ver eh cabrón?” (Just shut up, I’m gonna help you and you’re gonna let me, and if you don’t if I see that your wounds get infected you’re done understood?)

“No te vas a rendir verdad? okay fine you can help me” (You’re not giving up are you?)

“Good, it wasn’t a question” you smiled at him while heading to your bathroom to get your emergency kit which you always kept even if Miguel told you to throw it away or that it wasn’t necessary multiple times.

You came back to your living room and started cleaning Miguels wounds “So, you’re gonna tell me what happened to you or?”

He sighed “Miles..” he said almost whispering

“Hm? say it again? I can’t hear you corazón”

“Miles”

“Miles? as in the kid you told me about?” he nodded

“He couldn’t have possibly done this right? he’s a kid, you said so, tell me the full story”

“He went to HQ, Gwen brought him… he broke a cannon event and destroyed a universe, then I had to tell him”

“About? go on mi cielo, I’m all ears”

He sighed “I had to tell him… about his cannon event”

“Oh… I’m guessing he didn’t take it well” he shook his head

“He wanted to save his dad even if it destroyed the universe, I had to chase him down, I had to tell him that he was an anomaly, Every single spider in the society chased him down and he still beat our asses and managed to escape, I was so close to fucking ending with it once for all”

“YOU WHAT? A ver cielo, déjame ver si entendí, HICISTE QUE UN MONTÓN DE ADULTOS PERSIGUIERAN A UN NIÑO Y DESPUÉS CASI LO MATAS?” (YOU WHAT? Okay, let me see if I understood, YOU MADE A BUNCH OF ADULTS CHASE DOWN A KID AND AFTER THAT YOU ALMOST KILLED THE KID?)

quiet

“Sabes lo que le pudo haber pasado a ese niño?! Que habrías hecho si lo hubieras matado eh?” (Do you know what could’ve happened to that kid?! What would you have done if you had killed him huh?)

“Y/n you don’t understand, he wouldn’t listen to me”

“No, I don’t understand, he’s just a kid Miguel, of course he’s gonna try to save his dad! it’s logic!”

“Then what was I supposed to do huh?!”

“I DONT KNOW, MAYBE NOT TRY TO KILL A KID?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for everyone, I didn’t want him to deal with the guilt of making an universe come to an end, I’m so sorry , I promise you that I will try to fix everything” he said sincerely

“You should be apologizing to the kid, not me, but don’t worry as long as you make an effort it’ll be okay, just don’t try to kill kids again, and- oh my god, I didn’t finish cooking your food, okay, ahorita regresó mi amor, y ni se te ocurra moverte” as much as you wanted to be mad, you just couldn’t resist him, you brought him food and continued to heal him until he was as best as he could be.

lorenzo zurzolo the man that you are🙈

heeeeeeeeeey!!! Can I request a Earth 42! Miles fic/Head canon? Where he has a little gremlin for a girlfriend??Pleeeeeeeeease??? Gracias!! ♥️

EARTH-42 MILES HC’s

Masterlist

Hi!! ofc you can! I hope I can meet your expectations since this is my first time writing HC’s, i didn’t know if you wanted it to be x reader or not, sorry I went a bit over the edge😭😭

Earth 42-Miles Morales x Gremlin Girlfriend

Okay, let’s start with the fact that since he is around his mom a lot, he has a really good Spanish, and a little bit of an accent while speaking english

Unless she understands Spanish, I don’t think he would speak it out of nowhere or that much, sure, maybe some spanglish, or him turning to Spanish when he forgets a word (Or unless he doesn’t want her to understand what he’s saying)

Rio would be a little skeptical at first if she’s not hispanic, or at least know how to say hi, please and thank you in Spanish, but she would be the sweetest once she accepts her

Let’s be honest, we all saw the way Earth-42 Miles is skinnier than Spider-man Miles and has way more eye bags, so his girlfriend and family would probably worry about him a lot

If she is hispanic, then everything changes, he would constantly speak Spanish around her and they would both speak it when they don’t want anyone to understand them

Now onto the gremlin thing (i’m a tall girl so i’m sorry if i didn’t get this right)

So, we all know Miles isn’t the tallest, but he isn’t the short, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to be with a girl who is way shorter than him

I think he would use cringy Spanish nicknames but in a teasing way, he would definitely make fun of her by calling her “enana” or “chaparrita”

It would take a while for him to un ironically use Spanish nicknames, because he would definitely cringe at them at first

I don’t think he would call her mamacita, (maybe he would but I hate that nickname so let’s pretend he wouldn’t)

He would probably make fun of her by putting his arm on top of his head, or putting stuff on the higher place so you can’t reach it

I think his gf would probably get into trouble by thinking she can beat bigger guys who happen to upset her and he would have to either defend her or drag her out of there

He loves the height difference, specially when they’re cuddling, or when he’s holding her hand and he realizes the size diferente

Okay, I think he would need a girl who’s the opposite of him, bubbly, positive, or at least someone who has the ability to make him see positively at least for a second

This man would PROTECT HER with his life, he can’t risk losing someone else

He would think it’s kinda funny when she tries to act mad because she’s just too adorable, unless it’s serious, then even he can fear her

The man would HATE when other guys use her height to try and flirt with her by “making fun of her for being short”, or even worse comparing hands with her

He would think it’s cute and maybe a little bit funny when she gets jealous or as i said, anything that involves her being mad, for him it would be hilarious to see a little person red of anger either trying to contain herself or being over dramatic

Would probably make her jealous on purpose just to see that

He would have a bitch face and everyone would ask her if her boyfriend hated them, unless he’s with her

He would LOVE to hug you and feel the height difference

Picking you up really easily while tickling each other, or her ignoring her, which is kinda unfair

He would be really open with her and allow himself to be happy, just when they’re alone though, don’t get me wrong, he isn’t afraid of being seen treating his girl right, but in public he can’t bee seen as someone vulnerable and would probably just keep a straight face while listening to her babble about something, people would even doubt that he is good for you (of course he is)

I don’t think sleepover’s with him would be that regular even if he wanted them to be, he has a hispanic mom and they’re really strict about girls and boys sleeping in the same place, it would take a while to convince Rio to let them have a sleepover (and her mom as well if she’s hispanic)

When they do have sleepovers don’t doubt that he would fall asleep with her on his chest

anyone who ever said yamaguchi is an uwu smol wholesome baby🥺 is so wrong bc im rewatching haikyuu!! and im on EPISODE 6 AND THIS MF HAS INDIRECTLY MADE FUN OF EVERYONE TSUKKI MADE FUN OF

I AM INTO SUBMISSIVE MEN!! I LOOOOVE HIM

I’m not into submissive men but….

There can always be exceptions

Jason Todd x Reader

Part 2 to this.

Thanks for the support guys, sending lots of love <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 2 years or so since you moved out of Gotham. Well. Not moved out moved out. You couldn't leave. Gotham was your home. And even with those painful memories of Jason demanding you to leave, he's still the same person who you shared those long-lasting kisses with, who texted you every 5 minutes while he was on patrol to make sure you were safe at home, who was able to give you the first, real experience of love and devotion for the first time in your life.

But now you feel numb. Every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection from puddles on the ground or the shine of a window, you saw that gut-wrenching, eerie grin of the Joker. The grin of your father who once killed your ex-boyfriend and your passionate love.

But you broke Jason's trust. Maybe if you told him sooner, he wouldn't have cast you out. Maybe he would've sat down for a second and realised you aren't the same person as your father.

Staying at the next town over beside Gotham wasn't a bad idea, however. You were able to reflect on yourself, realising that you had no power over your father, and there was physically nothing you could've done to save Robin. But you've repeated in your head over and over that you are not the Joker. You weren't the ones who committed those crimes. You weren't the ones who killed so many innocent people. The only guilt that would eat at you was that you were selfish and a coward to stand up to the Joker and at least attempt to save someone. Bht you didn't. And you hoped that if someone knew your name, who knew your story, that they'd understand. That they'd be scared, too.

You were able to buy a run down... apartment?..house? Whatever it was, it was, unfortunately, all you could've afforded at the moment. And worse, it reminded you too much of your room in the warehouse. Minus the dried blood. But it had a horrible stench of weed, which took you forever to get rid of.

Unlike the warehouse, however, you were at least able to make it a little more homey. You didn't have any furniture, but you did have a cleaner mattress plus bed sheets, knick knacks scattered across the floors, a fake plant, or two on the floor beside you bed. And lastly, though you really should move on, a framed picture of you and Jason. You put this directly beside your bed, where it would be the first thing you see in the morning.

You know that what Jason told you was cruel. You could never forget it. But you had the decency to understand him. He dated someone he trusted. And unfortunately that someone just happened to be the daughter of his murderer. Of course, he'd think you're working with the Joker. Especially if that camera footage showed that you showed no effort to help Robin.

So, what the hell have you been doing when you went away? Well, as said, you couldn't stay out of Gotham for very long. You always went in and out, just for the nostalgia. Just because you had bad memories in Gotham didn't mean you didn't have good ones either. You just assumed that since your leave, you've been fired from Bat Burgers, so you decided to avoid that vicinity for now.

The real reason, though, was the soup kitchen. You could never step foot inside ever again, in fear that Jason would still be volunteering there, and you wouldn't want him to have a breakdown. So you just anonymously dropped off bags of produce of whatever you could afford during the day and quickly departed without being seen. But you missed the kids. Yeah, Jason made you feel loved romantically, but those kids, they felt like family. And how you missed diane so much, too. She was like a mother to you.

It pained you that you couldn't go see the kids anymore, but as you heard them laugh and yell just from the other side of the entrance, you smiled. You always took quick glimpses of them, and some of them grew taller. Some of them formed freckles on their faces. But your smile would slightly falter when they mention how much they missed you. And by that time, you'd just drop off the bag and make your way back home.

You weren't proud of it, but when you found yourself completely broke, you decided, fuck it, and started nicking a things from grocery stores, just for you to survive. And in moments like them, you think to yourself... am I slowly becoming like...him? You shake your head, thinking that the Joker had committed the most heinous, unforgivable crimes, while vigilantes wouldn't really care for petty theft, and the cops wouldn't give two shits anyway, especially if it's only stores running on the poor side of Gotham being robbed.

God, how you hated the police system. They'd only help when the richies were being mugged. Even Batman neglected the poor. Sometimes, you'd smile when you'd see Jason helping the kids of Crime Alley. The memory warmed your heart. Too bad you couldn't make more memories similar to those ones.

You rushed your quick drop off of fruits and veggies to the soup kitchen. It wasn't much. You think an empolyee spotted you trying to conceal a small box of strawberries in your jacket.

You felt some familiarity when you turned to make a run for it when you ran into somethi- someone.

"oW- literally what the fuck-" You hiss, grabbing onto your scrunched up face, not noticing the person you walked into. "Watch where you're going, nit-" You looked up to glare at the person, but oh, how you could never forget those gorgeous green eyes. Those green eyes you fell too far in love with. The green eyes that would sparkle when its owner would rant about the new chapter he was reading in The Catcher in the Rye. The ones that used to look at you so lovingly. But now, it is replaced with burning resentment.

"You're the one not watching where they're going."

What a familiar setting. But instead of the joking tone of Jason correcting that you're the one not watching their step, he means it now. As if he was some stranger to you, annoyed that some rando foolishly walked into him and tried to blame him.

And suddenly, you're back at the Batcave. Suddenly, you're back on your knees, looking up at the hurt, screaming man who towered over you. Suddenly, you hear once more if I ever see you again, I'll end you.

You don't reply to his spiteful response. But you notice your breathing getting heavy. You try to make a run for it past him, but what he says next makes you stop.

"You're selfish for coming here," he grumbles, barely audible, but you hear it. You hear it so clearly. And it pisses you off. What the hell does that mean?

"I get you hurting me because I was Robin. Because I'm close to Batman. But coming here to hurt these kids?"

You turn to him, disbelief on your face. "Excuse me?" You spit.

"These kids did nothing wrong. So leave them alone. Leave Diane alone. Leave Gotham." He says, surprisingly pretty calm.

You already feel the tears brim your eyes. "Fuck you," you say quietly, choking out a sarcastic laugh as you turned to walk away. But before you can leave his line of sight, you turn to face him once more. "I didn't do shit, okay?! I made a mistake, but I didn't. Do. Shit,"you claimed as you walk away in a fast pace. And this makes Jason fume in anger. Yes, you did. You lied to him. He told you his secrets. You were about to give him up back to the Joker. You put his family that he worked so hard and long to make amends in jeopardy. Right?

Jason follows after you in anger, pulling you through a narrow alleyway. Luckily, the neighbourhood was quiet, and no one was around to see this private situation.

"Don't talk to me like you did nothing wrong," Jason hisses. And you yank yourself away from his grip.

"You never told me you were Arkham Knight. Why do I owe you who I was?!" You snarl at him.

"But I did!" He yells back. "At least I eventually told you because you were always nagging that I was out late! And you didn't even return the favour by telling me you're the daughter of someone I hate the most! You didn't commit any of the same crimes he did? Fine. But you're still an accessory. You stood there watching him torture me. And I bet you stood there with every other victim that he killed, feeling absolutely no remorse. That makes you just as disgusting as him."

By this time, tears were already rolling down your cheeks. Your cheeks burned red, and you could feel a headache forming.

"And the worst part," Jason continues quietly. "I still can't get you out of my head. A stupid itch at the back of my mind saying that I still love you," he says in shame.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. What the fuck? No. No, why the fuck would he say that. That's selfish of him.

"Fuck you!" You yell. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so fucking sorry, but I couldn't do anything! You saw it yourself! I was a kid, I couldn't do anything! I was scared! And I did NOT watch him torture you- I wasn't even aware you were there until he killed you! I didn't even remember it was you when I first met you!"

"BULLSHIT"

"IT'S NOT FUCKING BULLSHIT," you cried, panting, your adrenaline dying down. You rake your hair back, tangled between your fingers as your tears begin to dry up.

"I'm sorry, Jason," you sighed. "I really am, I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was but.. but not telling you was protecting you! The fewer people who knew who I was, the safer everyone would be, especially after you told me that you're Red Hood..." You took a breath. "I spent my whole childhood believing my dad when he told me that no one could love me. But then I met you. You taught me how to love and- and how to be loved! And I fucked this up, and I'm sorry. But I'm too tired to keep arguing. I finally accepted that I'm not the same person as my father and- and I'm not going to let you take that away from me because it's the only thing I have left.."

Jason stares down at you. You have no idea what's going through your head, and right now, you don't have the energy to find out what it is. So, you slightly shake your head in defeat and start to wall out of the cramped alley.

"Oh," you say before leaving. "And for your information, I already left gotham. Just stopping for a visit," you mutter before finally leaving Hason on his own.

He shouldn't believe you. How can he trust you?

You arrived back at your house. Your body went limp, laying on the mattress as a final tear soaked through your pillow.

You absolutely hate how you know that you still love Jason Todd. He was the first person to ever help you what love truly felt like but also showed you how fast such a strong bond can crumble in a few minutes.

As Jason is remained to be alone in the alley, he thinks to himself. It's crazy. You've been raised by the Joker. The Joker. How are you raised by such an abomination but still be the most angelic, beautiful person to cross the planet.

He walks out of the alley and goes towards the soup kitchen where he'd start his volunteer work. Before he walks in, he notices the small bag that you left behind. He picks it up and opens it to see fruits and vegetables inside. He shrugs, not trying to think so much about it and heads inside.

As soon as he steps in, he's greeted by the kids, and his gave brightens in delight. But he sees some of the expressions falter.

"Where's Y/n?" One of them asks. "You two are always together... we haven't seen her for a long, long, loooong time," they frown.

Jason was about to awkwardly answer when Diane came up to him. "Jason, my dear boy! How was your rest, honey?" She asks. Ever since he found out you were the Joker's daughter, he couldn't work, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the energy of volunteering, so he rang up Diane saying that he wasn't in the best spirits, in which she completely understood, saying that you would be around to help anyway. He was about to answer to say that he wasn't so sure about that, but Diane hung up, telling him to get a good rest, and that she'll see him soon.

Jason nods and sends her a sweet smile. "Yeah, thanks. Had a lot in my hands at the time," he explains, but Diane shakes her head.

"Don't even worry, sweetie. It's been calm the past few days," she says, looking down at Jason's hands, and a sad look reaches her eyes. "Is that from Y/n? She always left a bag of food outside, thinking she's slick. Tsk, foolish girl," she jokes. "She hasn't been around in a while. You two are dating, no? What happened? Of course, it's not my place to know. But I'm here if you need to talk, sweetheart," she says, placing a comforting hand to his cheek before walking back to the kitchen.

A little girl tugs on Jason's jacket.

"Jay-jay?" She calls out as Jason bends down to her eye level. "Is, N/n okay?" She asks, worry in her face. Jason attempts to send her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she's fine," he responds. "She's a big girl, like you. I'll check up on her to make sure she's okay, if that'll make you feel better," he offers.

"You promise?" She asks, holding her tiny pinky out.

Jason sighs. "I promise," he says, intertwining his larger pinky around hers.

Unfortunately for Jason, he never breaks a pinky promise to the kids. And he would never lie to them. So, on Jason's next scheduled patrol, he'll ditch and find you to make sure you're safe. That's it. Nothing else. He doesn't need to speak to you. Just a quick glance to see if you're not doing anything stupid.

Wait.

God fucking damn it.

You told Jason you already left Gotham. How the hell was he supposed to find you??

Shit, right. Diane said you always leave bags of food outside their door. So you couldn't have lived far, right?

Okay, he'll do a quick sweep of the ourskirts of Gotham, then he'll check the edge of the next town over.

It's been a long, tiring night, to say the least. He started searching the outskirts of Gotham around 6 pm and started his search of the next town from 1am.

He was about to give up his search when he heard a man yelling. He looks down to see a figure running out of a 24 hour convenient store as a man in a uniform yells after you. Jason rolls his eyes, hopping down to the roof to stop you.

You run pretty far, but you look back to see if the store owner was chasing you. You smile to see that you weren't being followed, but as you face back forward, your head hits against an extremely hard, metalic surface.

"Fuck! No- why!" You yell, pressing a palm to to your forhead, where the impact was laid. And low and behild, you see the infamous Red Hood standing in front of you.

"You know I'm always not looking where I'm going! Can you at least have the decency not to be in my way!" You hiss, swerving past him. "Besides, I don't want to speak to you," you mutter, heading home, which wasn't that far.

"I'm not here to talk. Anna just wanted me to check if you're safe." He claims as you scoff.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You sarcastically say, grabbing the keys for your door. Jason inspects your house.

"This is where you live?" He blurts out with clear concern.

"What of it," you mumble, stepping in. Neither of you really commented on the fact that Jason let's himself in, continuing to critique your humble abode.

"There's mould and cracks everywhere," Jason says, looking around.

"Great observation, sherlock. Guess what? I don't care. It's a roof over my head, and it's a 10 times upgrade compared to the warehouse. At least there isn't dried blood everywhere," you say.

"What? You didn't have a proper room?"

"Joker wasn't really a 'world's greatest dad mug' kind of guy." You say, laying on the mattress, keeping one leg bent upwards as the other lays flat. One arm is tucked under your head as the other is laid over your eyes.

Jason wanders around the run-down bulding, looking at your belongings scattered on the floor, which used to sit on the shelves and windowsill of his much more comfortable apartment.

But a shimmer catches the corner of his eyes. He sees a frame, the picture turned away from him, directly beside where your head lies.

He cautiously walks towards you, taking a peek of the picture. And he could already tell, by the smiling faces and puckered lips of the photo, that it was his favourite picture of the two of you. He had a copy of the photo stuck in his room somewhere in his apartment.

And the guilt slowly eats at him.

"I'm sorry," Jason quietly says.

"For what?" You mutter, obvious that you're exhausted.

"Everything I said." He replies, sitting on the floor beside you. "For telling you to leave Gotham, thinking you were anything like the Joker... saying I'd kill you if I saw you again.. I didn't mean it," he says, his voice getting raspier by the second. "It was horrible of me to say."

"It's whatever, Jay... Jason," you reply, shifting to turn away from him, your back facing him. "I'd probably think the same if I were you."

His heart sunk.

"I should've believed you," he says, his voice raising a little. All he needs is for you to say you forgive him for saying all that shit. Because of him, you think so lowly of yourself, and that you love in such a horrible state, where instead the two of you could be cosy, wrapped in softer blankets in his bed in what ysed to be your shared apartment. He doesn't think he can take it if you think so harshly of yourself.

"But you didn't. And... and that's okay. I mean.." You try to hide your sniffle by burying your face into your pillow, but you aren't as discreet as you think as Jason obviously catches you. "I don't think anyone in this world would trust the daughter of a psycho," you try to joke, sending a weak, pathetic laugh.

"But you proved to me so many times that you aren't him. And I completely ignored all those times and started labelling you for someone you're not! How are you not mad- how are you not yelling at me?" Jason says, almost in a desperate whine. He needs some sort of emotional reaction from you. But you look so... dead.

You sigh as you sit up, avoiding eye contact. "Because you were right, Jason. You had every right not to trust me. I broke your trust by not telling you- I couldn't even save you."

Jason shakes his head vigorously. "No- No, no, no. Sweetheart, no," he didn't mean for the nickname to slip out, but no one mentions it. He reaches for your hands, which fit so perfectly in his larger ones. He held your hands in his grasp, pulling them to his chest, making sure you're looking at him.

"I was wrong- It wasn't your responsibility to save me. You were a kid- we were both kids! There was nothing we could've done. We were both kids dragged into Batman and Joker's stupid game of theirs! This isn't either of our faults! And you didn't tell me you were Joker's daughter... and that's okay. I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand why you didn't tell me. The Joker is wrong, Y/n. You can be loved... You are loved. Because I love you so much that it hurts," he admits, brushing strands of your hair away from your face so that he can look into your eyes. And you can look back into his. His gorgeous green eyes that can finally see love again. "And I understand if you don't lo-"

"I love you so much, Jay," you sniffle, smiling at him. Jason's eyes soften as he smiles, his head leabing forward and his lips resting on your forhead. "I'm sorry," you say, and Jason just shushes you, but you continue. "And I forgive you for what you said to me," you quietly say, shifting to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I forgive you, too, my love," Jason replies, his hand reaching up to softly caress your cheek. "I'll stay the night. Okay? Then tomorrow, first thing, you pack your stuff and move back in with me, okay?"

You smile as you nod, your tears finally withering away as you lie down in your bed, watching Jason strip off his heavy armour, laying in with you in just his tactical pants and compression shirt on. He wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, and suddenly, you feel safe again. You feel warm again.

You feel loved again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry if this is ass 😭. I really wanted this finished, and it's like 2am. But i really hope you'd still enjoy!! 🙏🙏

Taglist 🏷: @tyrone200 @pank0w @lorosette @havlindzk @achromaticerebus @demonicparalysis @fairyeoll

sorry if you requested part 2 and was not tagged, maybe because of mention priv settings? nonetheless, i hope you like it!

the way this made my heart ache sm😭

I Hate You, Be My Girlfriend: The Finale (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: Way too long (jk it's about 7267)

Warnings: Minor cussing

Summary: After a fight with Damian, you realize you have to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't love you, until something comes along and makes you realize he might.

France was even more gorgeous than you had expected it to be. Google images regrettably did not do the country justice and neither did your phone, but that didn’t stop you from snapping as many pictures and videos as you could in order to preserve the memory. 

Yet, despite all of the wonderful scenery and the fantastic food and the exceptional people, the best part - hands down - had to be waking up in the arms of Damian fucking Wayne for the past few days. The first night - and subsequently the following morning - you were neatly tucked into his side at an arm’s reach away. It was a warm but hesitant touch, a subtle ask for something more. Days passed and suddenly instead of the tentative touch you woke up to, you found yourself sprawled out on Damian’s bare chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you. 

As if he was as desperately in love with you, the small cavernous side of your mind echoed. The thought was quickly shaken away. Despite Damian becoming more affectionate, his attitude remained like a stubborn piece of gum glued to a shoe. No matter how many times he held the warmth of your hand or gave you a gentle smile, it never seemed anything more than to save face and - at most - simple kindness. That did not ease the drumming ache of your heart, and you could only beg to the most benevolent Gods that he couldn’t hear it while he held you. 

The morning beams leaked out of the windows of the hotel room, spraying you both with warmth. A husked groan escaped Damian’s lips, his head tilting to escape the blinding light. Most of his raven morning hair fell flat without the immense gel he used with some strands sticking up. His glazed-over gaze caught yours, the hazy emerald color melting into your own, making you feel naked in a snowstorm. 

“How do you always end up sprawled out all over me by the morning?” He mumbled, tugging at the silk sheets to cover more of his body. 

“You’re the one cuddling me, Dami.” You quickly pointed out, loving the way he casually rolled his eyes but didn’t let go. 

“How dare you, I refuse to call this cuddling.” 

“Then what would you like to call this?” You pouted. 

Damian began to draw soft circles and other miscellaneous shapes into your skin, his hands slightly calloused for inexplicable reasons. Being this close to him, you could make out the constellations of scars scattered along his body, the feathered birthmark near his collarbone that almost resembled a bird, the slight tint of crimson darkening his cheeks. It was weird being this close to your crush and part of you was close to pinching yourself to wake up from this fantasy. 

“Why does this need a name? I feel like that would ruin the rapport of it, don’t you think?” He questioned gently. His hardened eyes studied you, analyzing your reaction. Damian could probably see the way your eyes widened - could feel the quickening of your heart as it pumps blood to your face as it nodded in agreement. But if he did hear or notice any of those things, he didn’t mention it. He simply stared down at you. 

“I um…” You gulped. “Are you excited for the bachelor party? You’ll get a break from me for once.” You let out a yawn, rolling off Damian’s chest and taking the blankets with you. Despite it being Summer time in France, the early mornings were not kind. 

“Meh, not really.” Damian groaned and got up along with you to presumably get his clothes for the day. “I think I’m beginning to enjoy your company and I really don’t feel like being at a bar for five hours listening to my brothers act like Neanderthals.”

You failed to hold back your laughter listening to Damian continue to complain about his family. Even when it came to minor things like this, Damian always argued with immense zeal. It had to be a double edged sword, both one of his greatest strengths and one of his greatest faults. 

Your heart fluttered at this idea - well, not of the idea itself - but because of the meaning behind it. You were getting closer to Damian, he wanted your company. Compared to a few weeks ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of even being close to your vicinity but now everything has changed. 

But as soon as that glimpse of hope burst in, it popped instantly. This was all just a game to Damian, a façade he has put on to not show any weaknesses to his family. What was going on between you - the cuddling, hand holding, and soft kisses - was not anything special like how you dreamed. It was merely an act, the same one he would use at galas or any other public events. None of this meant anything to him because he didn’t love you. 

The thoughts continued to get worse and worse, the idea of Damian being affectionate because it meant nothing killed your mood. Suddenly, a bachelorette party didn’t seem as fun anymore even if it was in Bordeaux. Looking back at the bed, it seemed way more comfortable than it did prior, but then you remembered the way Damian held you and another rush of regret seeped its way into your pores. 

You scolded yourself for letting this get to you. Afterall, you knew from the very beginning that there was a high probability of you getting hurt. You were so swept up by the projected romance that you forgot that this was real life; Damian wouldn’t fall in love with you and after the wedding is over, he will most likely go back to avidly hating you. 

“Are you okay?” You turned behind you, catching the sight of Damian who had pulled on a tight forest green sweater and dark gray slacks all complimented with a black coat. He had worn these kinds of clothes before, so you wonder why your heart is beating faster than ever. 

You clutched your clothes tighter in your grasp. “I-I’m fine…” 

Damian squinted his eyes. It was obvious he didn’t believe what you told him. “Are you sure? You seem so…finicky this morning.”

You swiftly tried to escape the conversation, trying to hurry your way to the bathroom to change. “I guess I’m just a little nervous for the wedding. There’s going to be a lot of people so…”

Damian’s hand cut you off from entering the bathroom. “Tell me what’s actually going on.”

Fine. If he was being stubborn you may as well be too. “Why do you care all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t like me much.”

You tried to play off the comment as a half joke, thinking that he would laugh along with you. You weren’t expecting the borderline horrified look he gave you instead. His eyebrows knit in confusion and his jaw tightened, giving you enough time to slightly move his hand and enter the bathroom and change. 

“Why do you keep thinking I hate you?” Damian’s voice was outside the doorway. His voice sounded like he accidentally stepped on his dog’s foot or his cat’s tail. Again, you weren’t expecting this reaction. Was he not the one who said he hated you? Did he not relentlessly tease you whenever you talked?

“What, are you saying that you don’t?” 

“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. Don’t be a fucking idiot.” This time, his voice seemed more agitated as if it was a ridiculous thought to have. A cloud of confusion permeated through your mind, refusing to leave and causing you to go silent. What were you supposed to say to that? Was this not a contradiction to how he acted 98 percent of the time you knew him? 

Damian was standing a few feet away when you walked out. “Of course, you’re just going to act like an immature baby about things.” He stepped closer to you with an all too familiar glare. “What is the problem? We were fine a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t understand you, Damian! One minute you are charming and nice, and then the next you sling insults at me!” You snapped. “And then you act surprised when I assume you hate me?”

The intense glare you received made your skin crawl. His mouth opened once, twice, only to quickly shut. For the first time since you knew him, he was speechless.

 “It’s not like you actually love me.” You continued, voice quieter and abnormally cold. 

You attempted another laugh but it came off sounding like a sad sob. It was a last resort to cover up the pain you felt, a nervous tick, a bad habit. Laughing was easier than admitting how much rejection hurt. It felt like being shoved into an operating chair and having a knife rip you apart until there was nothing left. Not even hope for a miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian could not believe his ears; he wasn’t sure if he wanted to break down into tears or scream in a furious rage. The latter seemed more tempting. You looked like a wounded puppy, like he had kicked you and left you out on the street during a cold winter to starve.

“I…what?” He stuttered. 

It’s not like you actually love me…

The words sounded so disdainful…so frigid, the exact opposite of your optimistic personality. It startled him, left him scrambling for a reason - a reason for why it hurt, a reason for why you were hurt, a reason why this was happening in the first place. 

It was ridiculous, really. Damian had fought against hundreds of villains with only his sword and his brain. If it weren’t for his wits and natural skill, he would have been long dead and buried six feet under. So why, why was it that he failed to properly articulate what he wanted to say to you? 

Never in his life did Damian regret his actions more than he did now. The way your eyes sparkled with tears, how your hands crossed your chest and your legs shaked - he wanted nothing more than to be the one who comforted you, to make up for the way he treated you. Alas, he failed to actually say what was on his mind. 

“You don’t actually love me.” You repeated, once again trying to laugh, but he can tell it wasn’t sincere. “That is the whole joke of this situation.”

“Shut up, Y/n. You don’t even know what you are talking about.” He said, although he wasn’t really sure why. For most of the time he knew you, he assuredly did not love you at all. He would swear by it. Other than his love for animals and the cursed blood that pumped through him, you were one of the few constants he had in his life. Every single time he saw you he got lightheaded and felt like he was under some watered down version of Joker’s laughing gas, but now that he was forced to be near you, he had grown to enjoy the feeling you gave him. It became something he would willingly flight for. 

Whilst he wasn’t sure why, Damian wanted you more than anything; more than his father’s cowl, more than a pet turtle named Michelangelo, more than a cookie from Alfred. 

“I mean, it’s true. You would never love someone like me, not in a hundred years.” 

And there it was. The same stomach churning feeling he got whenever he did something overtly terrible to you. It made him want to take a dagger and plunge it into his heart, maybe that would stop the terrible ache it gave. 

“But what if I did?” Damian blurted. “What if I really, truly did and I was just a dumbass and didn’t realize it before. Is it really impossible for you to believe that I might?” 

“Well…” You took a step back, and then another, eyes twitching and breath heavy. “T-that…that wouldn’t…it wouldn’t…”

Damian noticed how you were on the verge of crying, with your lip trembling and fingers fraying the sides of your sweater. It irritated him; all of this was because of his behavior, because he was not enough, because he couldn't unravel the strange feelings that lingered in his gut. 

“Why are you crying?” He immediately bit his lip, realizing how harsh that sounded. What he meant to say was Why aren’t you smiling at me? What can I do to make you smile? 

You grabbed the key card for the shared room off the table, wiping away the few tears that slid across your cheeks. “Doesn’t matter…” You replied. “Let’s just ignore that this conversation happened and get breakfast.”

Despite wanting to say so much more - to argue about how it was unfeasible for him to hate you - all Damian could do was exhale and follow you to the breakfast area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breakfast was an absolute disaster. Considering that this was the first argument you and Damian had, it managed to ruin the mood for a majority of the afternoon. The rest of his family could tell that there was some sort of miscommunication between the two of you as well. The frequent jokes and remarks you two made were replaced with depressing silence and forlorn glances. 

Damian still could not grasp the idea of you thinking he hated you. He was determined to make it up to you since he now considered your opinion of him of the utmost importance, but no matter how many times he attempted to apologize you would shoot him down. He couldn’t even tell if you were angry with him since you just stared at him with those sad abused puppy dog eyes that always seemed to be a blink away from shedding tears. 

It boggled him, absolutely infuriated him to the point where he accidentally snapped at his older siblings and Alfred (who he later apologized to). The idea of him loving you raced through his mind numerous times; the proposal of it felt like greeting an old friend. It was surprising how he was not opposed to the idea in the slightest. 

All Damian could think of were the times you were kind to him and saw through him like he was a transparent ghost and how he retaliated with rudeness. He allowed himself to wonder if the whole situation would have been different if he had been kinder to you, only to realize that the likelihood of you being present with him now would be near improbable if he had been. 

He cursed under his breath in his mother’s tongue as he often did when he was this upset. It was one of the only few comforts he had at the moment. There were no animals he could hold and pet, no canvases to illustrate his emotions, no criminals to punch into a reddened smoothie. He only had you but he was not sure how he could approach you again. Preferably it would have been tonight but you were both dragged respectively to a bachelor/bachelorette party.  

The loud music and excited chatter of his family at the circus themed bar only proved to worsen Damian’s mood. The beating lights that bounced to the music and the steady flow of acrobatic men and women who somersaulted sent Damian’s mind into a dizzying blur. The whoops and cheers next to him did not make his situation any better. He couldn't care less. As important as this night was for Dick, he would have preferred to not be there at all.

“What’s got you scowling like that, lil D?” Dick yelled across the huge bar table, his face flushed and eyes dilated to the point where the ocean in them expanded into a black sea. 

“He’s having girl issues, Dick!” Tim remarked. “He probably said something really shitty to Y/n and has no idea how to say sorry.”

“Hey, I-” 

“No fighting at my bachelor party!” Dick slurred. He turned back to him. “What happened, buckaroo?”

Damian cringed at the pet name. It seemed like alcohol reverted Dick back into the ancient youth he was while being Robin. “Don’t you dare call me that again, Grayson.” 

“Come on, lil D! Let us help you, I am amazing with women!” 

“That’s probably not the best thing to say, Dick.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Regardless, I do think the embarrassed look on Damian is amusing, so please continue.”

Everyone looked to Damian expectantly, all of them raising the iconic eyebrow learned from Alfred. It was a similar stare to the one you gave him, and the sudden thought of you sent another wave of goosebumps along his body, making him feel possessed. 

Damian chose his words carefully. He could not just blatantly confess to forcing you into a fake relationship, nor could he ask for help when he didn’t know what to ask help with. 

“I don’t think that I am showing enough…affection to Y/n and I…I think she is really hurt about it.” He managed to mumble. “I don’t know how to appease her.” 

The stupefied look on his brothers face made his cheeks burn, his eyes furrowing in further annoyance. “Have you tried to flirt with her? Like, walking up to her and giving her a wink. Maybe saying a good pick up line or two with a devilishly sexy smirk?” 

“I-” before Damian could argue, he realized that this was Dick he was talking to, and if anyone knew what they were talking about, it would be him. “Out of pure curiosity, what lines do you suggest? Flirting wise.”

The table groaned in unison. “God no, I’m not drunk enough for this.” Jason rolled his eyes. He gestured to one of the laced up women for another drink.

“Well, when Babs and I were still young I used a multitude of different ones.” Dick hiccupped, leaning against the wooden table with a wide grin. “Once I told her that I loved the new adjustments she made on the batgirl costume, but I said that it would look better on my floor. Oh! And there was this other time that I said she was so hot that my zipper was falling for her.” 

Dick paused, looking up fondly to the tented color ceiling as if it were replaying those memories like a TV show rerun. It was at this time that Damian realized he should probably be taking notes; although he was confident in his memory, when it came to you, you always found a way to snatch away his words. 

“The dirtier the pick up lines, the better!” Dick finished after snapping back into reality. “Oh, and you have to deliver it confidently. Confidence is super sexy! Eventually she’ll see how much you love her and want her if you do it enough.”

He hummed in affirmation, taking a few notes on his phone. Damian realized that the few pick up lines Dick used were so…dirty. Of course, Damian was not a prudish snob when it came to being dirty but the thought of being remotely dirty with you sent his mind once again spiraling like a rollercoaster. Imagining you…with your clothes on the floor…all for him…Holding you underneath the bed and finally kissing your honeyed lips…

The sound of Jason’s low, deep chuckle brought him back to focus. “What’s so funny, Todd?” 

“Nothing, nothing. I just think Dick’s advice is absolutely terrible and he will probably realize that once he’s sober.” He turned to his younger brother with a look only the Devil could muster. “Plus, you are terrible at disguising your thoughts.”

“I don’t see you coming up with better advice.” He retaliated. 

Jason shrugged and reclined back in his chair as he took another sip of his beer. “I think I’m having more fun laughing at how embarrassed you are. Oh, and don’t take that in a bad way - although I’m sure you will.”

“You are absolutely useless, Todd. I’m sure even Tim could offer better advice than that.”

The said brother tilted his head back with a tired indifference. “I’m lucky that Conner even loves me so I’m not sure I should be one to help. Have you tried to, I don’t know, show your appreciation by paying attention to every single detail of her life and memorizing it so that when asked, you know everything about her?” 

There was a deathly pause, everyone at the table looking toward Tim. “That sounds utterly ridiculous…” Still, Damian hastily wrote it down in his notes anyway, just in case it proved to be useful. He doubted it though, since he knew almost everything about you like the back of his hand.

“It worked for me.” Tim said with yet another shrug. “Just make sure she doesn’t notice you doing it or else she will get really really weirded out.”

Damian wrote Watch her every move in his notes the same time a dark shadow stalked towards him. Looking up, Damian saw the tired yet content face of his father next to him, glancing at his phone. 

“Sorry I’m late. I had to deal with another Killer Croc rampage.” His father’s voice was coarse and gruff with age, his chin clear of any stubble and his eyes an icy blue. 

Dick stood up, his feet wobbly, to embrace Bruce. Although this was not a common occurrence, the two men embraced each other similar to how one would grasp a lifesaver. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you could make it, Dad.” 

The two broke away almost as soon as it happened. “Good timing too. We’re all trying to help Damian with the girl he’s with.”

Damian’s face burned a bright crimson, matching the colors of the circus uniforms as they swayed by, giving him the appearance of drunkenness. He forced his cheeks to remain neutral despite the need to break out into a goofy smile at the mere mention of your existence. 

Sitting down next to him, his father gave a thoughtful hum. “I’m not the best with women but-“

“Father, you have nothing to add to this conversation.” Bruce almost looked offended, frowning as he closed his mouth. 

“That’s…fair.” He said eventually. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was really late at night when all the girls returned to Des Quinconces after the bachelorette party. Busy chatter filled the empty air with melodic excitement as the party filed into Barbara’s room. Everyone had decided to have a huge sleep over the night before the wedding, spurred on by Stephanie and a few of the newer arrivals. It was a sigh of relief to you, since you weren’t sure you could handle a meeting with Damian at the moment. 

You were still visibly upset with the argument you had with Damian, and since you had spent this whole trip with him exclusively (and with very few meetings with his family since he was still paranoid they will catch on to the act), it was even worse being without him for this long. You already began to miss his witty comments and the friendly debates, but most of all, you missed the brief smile he gave you. Witnessing it was like finding a double rainbow after heavy rain or pinpointing a shooting star in the night sky. Without him, there were no double rainbows or shooting stars - just a gloomy night sky saturated in monochrome. 

As the cluster of girls made their way up the stairs, you dragged behind like a fish poop, wondering how to salvage things with Damian before the trip was over. When expressing the problem to the rest of the group (albeit carefully so it doesn’t seem suspicious) they suggested a plethora of things ranging from making him jealous, giving him the silent treatment, and or seducing him. Despite being told by one of the girls, Kor’i, that she could probably find another guy for the scheme, it felt impossible to make Damian jealous when there was a multitude of prettier girls at the wedding.

Now that you’re thinking about it, it would be the perfect escape for him. If the two of you broke up during the trip he wouldn’t be questioned about you afterward. You were just a ragdoll after all, a puppet he could use for the sake of not being embarrassed by his family. 

The image of Damian’s disappointed and heart-broken face reappeared in your mind. He looked so upset that you assumed he hated you, as if this whole trip was not a huge, perfectly photo-shopped picture. Was it because you were assuming the absolute worst of him? 

Another idea crossed your mind: What if he loved you? What if you magically made him succumb to the same feelings he gave you? 

Perhaps the reason why he was so hurt was because the tenderness he showed you was out of something close to love and your rejection of it angered him. Or perhaps this was you once again wishing for a miracle, hoping for something that would prevent you from the massive heartbreak you would undoubtedly endure. 

Despite the earlier conversation pointing to the former, you just could not push aside the year or so of bickering that led to this moment. As you laid your head down for the night, you concluded that the best course of action was to stick with the original plan: Pretend to be Damian’s girlfriend until the trip is over. Once it is over, you may as well get over him as well. There was no use wishing for a miracle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the wedding arrived with the breaking of an egg yolk, the sun peering over the horizon as if it too was not ready. Gathering whatever was left of your excited energy, you did your best to help Barbara and everyone else get ready. The whole room was a technicolor war zone with different colored dresses and materials scattered carelessly. 

Stephanie and Cassandra took care of Barbara for the most part, assuring her that Dick wouldn’t walk out, giving you time to look for the dress you stored away for the event. Originally, Damian wanted to be there with you to pick out the dress so that it matched his, but you thankfully were able to keep it a surprise until now. Looking at it, a wave of bittersweetness washed over you, like the taste of dark chocolate melting on your tongue. You wondered if the dress was too bold, or if it would even fit you correctly without it making you look like an unfinished sketch.

Whatever it did, it was too late to turn back now. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to picture how Damian would react. You wanted a reason to look pretty, to try and attract and beguile him. Now it seemed like any other piece of clothing you owned, just with a bit more frills and lace. The magic was gone. 

“Wow, you look beautiful!” Stephanie walked in with a grin, her perfect blonde hair curling like a lion’s mane. “I told Damian to wait for you downstairs, he looks pretty decent. We’ll meet you there.” 

She winked, dragging you out of the bathroom and pulling you out of the door. “Stepha-” 

Your fate was already sealed when the door slammed closed. You sighed, turning back around. Worry and hesitance consumed your body, eating away like moths to old fabric. Alfred was at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly talking to the youngest Wayne. At least he hadn’t noticed you yet; it made the 1,000 mile journey down more doable. 

Taking one last gasp of air, you painted a happy expression on your countenance and trudged onward. It didn’t take long for Damian to notice you, he always did, the glimmer in his eyes drawing you in further. 

He was smiling 

No, wait…He was smirking at you.

“Ah, it is good to see you Miss L/n, right on time.” Alfred nodded at you then turned to Damian once more. “I trust you will keep our conversation in mind?”

“Of course.” When you were within reach, he extended his hand and palmed yours. Warmth flooded your senses. It only worsened when he brought your hand to his lips and planted a kiss that was as gentle as a bird’s wings. 

His forest eyes connected with yours, and it was then that you noticed how amazing he was dressed. It was a normal black suit with a dark green undershirt, the cuffs of the suit embellished with a golden W. His hair was slicked back as usual, no bedhead in sight. There was no trace of sadness or anger in his face from the argument yesterday. 

“Beloved, you look…absolutely stunning, ravishing even.” 

“I-I…” You stuttered. “Thank you, Dami.”

You walked to the sleek black rental car, his hand in yours the whole way through. The noisy, busy street dissipated as you were enveloped in the quietness of the vehicle. 

Damian shifted in his seat, buckling in and smiling back at you. “Are you ready to go, my love?” 

Not trusting your ability to speak, you simply nodded. The already tight dress now seemed constricting. Silence filled the car with only the grinding of tires against the ground serving as music. You squirmed around, doing your best to make yourself comfortable. 

Damian cleared his throat. “Beloved…I…I wanted to apologize for how I have treated you, not just for yesterday, but for every other time too.”

“Oh, I…” Your mind grasps for a response. “Don’t um, don’t worry about it.”

His mouth twists in a thin line, pushing on the break at the red light. He reaches for your hands again, eyes heavy with an unfamiliar emotion. “I mean it, Y/n…I should have been kinder to you.”

When he was not met with an answer, he continued hastily. “I noticed yesterday that your eyes did not have the same fiery glint in them as they usually did when we were together. You also only smiled twice that day compared to the minimum of 32 every other day. I-It made me realize how much your happiness means to me.” 

The kaleidoscope of butterflies returned with gusto, a genuine smile fighting its way on your face.  “That’s...oddly specific.”

Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but giggle; whether the numbers he used were accurate or not, it showed how he actually cared. This reaction seemed to vex Damian. 

“If you aren’t going to take me seriously, I’ll have to pin you against a wall until you start to listen.” He grumbled. 

“Wh-what?!” 

His smirk reappeared, this time evidently victorious as if he took a gamble and won. “You heard me.”

"I'm not sure if I did...the Damian I know wouldn't blatantly flirt with me like that." "But how could I not flirt with you when you look so pretty all flustered for me?" He teased.

The wedding venue broadened along the horizon, revealing a gorgeous sectioned off garden or…was it a park? You weren’t able to tell. Cars were parked all along the perimeter, an ocean of people filling into the area. 

“That’s a lot of people…” You exclaimed. “I thought you said this was going to be a small event?”

“Trust me, my family knows way more people than those who are at the wedding.” Damian pulled into the allotted parking area, flashing his ID to one of the valet members. 

“`That doesn’t really help, Dami.” You looked into the mirror and played with your appearance. “I’m not sure how well my acting will be around so many people.”

He turned off the engine of the car, clicking his seatbelt and grabbing the keys. “The solution is simple then. Just don’t pretend anymore.”

It was almost as if Cupid himself pierced your heart with one of his infamous arrows, making you fall deeper into the pit you created for yourself.  You were 100 percent certain that Damian knew the effect he had on you if his smug grin were anything to go by, serving to only worsen your sheepishness. He was flirting with you as if it were second nature, as if he wanted to draw out this side of you. 

All worries of him loving you or not vanished as smooth as a sunset. When he opened the door for you, there was no hesitance; you swiftly took your place beside him. Two perfect puzzles placed next to each other, both their own picture but when put together, make an even more beautiful picture. Damian threw the keys to the valet attendant. 

The summer sun felt delicious on your exposed skin. Living in Gotham, days like these were as rare as gold and twice as valuable. Fresh grass and the exuberant amount of irises and lilacs intoxicated your senses. Most of the people seemed to be seated in the white pews. 

“May I ask why you are acting all flirty and endearing all of a sudden? Not that I’m complaining or anything, I just want to know what kind of trouble you are planning on getting me into.” Damian’s grip tightened. 

“Who’s to say I want to get you in trouble? What if I was just being honest with you for once?” He questioned. 

He leaned in closer, breath fanning against your ear, his hair tickling your skin. “Maybe after tonight I want to call you mine.”

You blinked. “Uh…”

“Is…did that not work?” Damian glanced at his phone then back at you, tilting his head and squinting. “Dick told me that would work. Why is- Are you not falling madly in love with me right now?”

“Damian, what are you talking about?” You said, just as bewildered as him. 

Damian’s face contorted, green eyes tearing away from yours. “I wanted to make up for hurting you all those times. I thought that if I did that then…”

A pale visage, eyes darting everywhere but to yours - his facade was breaking right in front of you. A sigh emanated from his lips, broken and cracked. “My family…they made me realize-”

“Damian?!” A booming voice followed with a sudden gust of wind cut him off. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

A similarly aged boy rushed in to give the Wayne a tight hug; he had swirly black hair and pale skin, his eyes a baby blue. He was a few inches taller than Damian as well.

“You have terrible timing, Jon.” Damian complained. 

The man, Jon, pulled away from him but kept his arm slung around his shoulders. 

“Ah, sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.” He beamed. “My name’s Jon! And you are?”

You attempted to speak but Damian cut you off before you could. “She’s my girlfriend, Y/n.”

Jon’s eyes widened, turning to the other with a gasp. “You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?!”

“We’re pretty new, Jon. I didn’t want to make her feel overwhelmed.”

You raised an eyebrow to Damian, who did not seem to have a problem changing the agreed upon story. 

“I-I..er…it’s nice to meet you, Jon!” You finally said. The smile you gave felt like a cheap knock-off in the presence of Jon, who resembled more of a golden retriever. 

“We should go, beloved. I’m afraid my brothers are probably waiting for us.” Damian tried to tug on the sleeve of your dress while you were in mid conversation with Jon. He gave you a needy whine. 

“Oh, alright then.” Jon said. “See you later?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Damian replied, hand now in yours. 

The two of you weaved your way towards the saved seats near the front of a flower woven arch. Familiar people greeted you and Damian, ranging from Rachel and Kara (who you met yesterday) to newer people named Conner and Wally. They all seemed nice enough, but your mind couldn’t maintain the same level of focus it usually did. How could it be when Damian was acting like a clingy, jealous boyfriend? 

Not only that, but the conversation beforehand seemed to be leading to a teary eyed confession. Whether it be a confession of love or of just remorse, you weren’t sure. You desperately wanted to believe that it was the former of course. It felt natural being beside him. Acting as a couple didn’t feel as fake as it did prior, causing a flurry of bubbling adulation. 

You imagined taking your place in the pews during the wedding for weeks now, imagined what it would be like to watch two people vow their love for eternity and beyond. Music began and the remaining people who were ambling about quickly found their seats. 

Dick was in the front with a charming navy suit, his face twisted in a nervous smile. The pastor was a woman with flowing black hair that towered over the bridegroom. 

The traditional marriage song began and suddenly Cassandra emerged, twirling and leaping with a basket of purple petals, tossing them in the air like glitter. Her dress was a little longer than a ballerina’s and her hair was accented with white flowers. The laws of physics seemed defied as Cass made her way across the aisle as if wings sprouted from her back. 

Barbara made her way across the aisle with her father, her mermaid dress trailing behind her. She was absolutely stunning and she knew it. Dick’s face broke out into a goofy smile, fidgeting with the collar of his suit. Babs took her place next to Dick and the ceremony began. 

You couldn’t help imagining yourself in Bab’s place, exchanging words of affection with the love of your life. Your eyes dragged to the person next to you. You were met with his eyes staring into yours, a blush dusting his face as if he could read your mind. 

“Richard Grayson, do you take Barbara Gordon  to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Dick said, his voice straining. 

“Barbara Gordon, do you take Richard Grayson to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?” The woman asked. 

“I do.” She answered quickly. 

“Well then, I happily pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride!” Applause erupted from the crowd as Dick pulled Barbara into his arms for a sentimental kiss. 

Your applause was cut short by Damian, who attempted to drag you to the far side of the venue. You laughed as you tried to run in the heels you wore. 

“Damian, I swear you are trying to kill me. What was that for?” You asked out of breath, fighting a giggle fit. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past hour and a half and I am not in the mood for anyone else to interrupt it.” He softly grabbed your wrist, creating a mere few inches of distance. 

“My family made me realize that I…” He took a deep breath. “They made me realize how much I care for you. The time we have spent together it’s been…it’s been one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life.”

“That’s really sweet, Damian. I’m glad we have grown to be friends.” You nuzzled into his chest. 

“I, no. That’s not…” Damian huffed out of exasperation. “I don’t want to just be friends with you, Y/n. I want to be more than that. I want what we have in the late nights and early mornings when it’s just us. Not because I am afraid of what my family will say, but because you make me a better person and I long to be the one who makes you smile.”

The bomb that had been slowly ticking down to its demise finally went off, a glorious bombardment of color and sparks that hazed your mind like a Fourth of July Night. 

“You…want me?”

“More than anything, Y/n. That’s why I got so upset yesterday…I was upset at myself for making you think I hated you when I didn’t.” The confession felt as soft as an everlasting Spring breeze, a promise to love during the blazing heat and decaying cold. His finger tilted your head up so you could look up at him.  There was no mask hiding away his feelings, it was plain to see that he meant every word. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long while, Dami. I- God, I’ve fantasized about you saying that to me for months. I’m sorry for assuming you hated me..it was more of a defense mechanism than anything.”

“Oh really?” He leaned in closer with his iconic smug smile. “What else did you fantasize, beloved?” 

You gulped. “Kissing…maybe?”

You gave him your best version of a puppy eyed stare.

“Do you want me to let you in on a secret, Y/n?” When you nodded, he said “I don’t think I could ever deny you when you look at me like that.”

In a blink of an eye, Damian’s lips pressed to yours and it only took you a moment of processing for you to kiss back. There were no fireworks, sparkles or any other bombardments as usually described in the romance books you read. Just the simple warmth you shared. 

Breaking away, you became aware of where you were and part of you felt bad for missing the immediate celebration. Barbara had her back to an array of women and some men, about to throw her bouquet of lilies. In front of it all was Tim’s boyfriend, Conner, who looked like he would shoot down anyone if he did not get the flowers. As she threw the bouquet, she managed to throw it towards the pews where Jason was sitting idly on his phone, effectively hitting him in the face and landing in his lap. 

Jason stared at his lap for a few seconds, confused. He looked to the crowd and spotted Conner, throwing them in his direction. 

“Mine!” He yelled, catching the bouquet with almost inhumane speed. “Hey, Timmy! Wanna head to Vegas and get married?”

Tim stared at his boyfriend, shaking his head with a flustered smile. 

“I’m sad that we’ll have to leave in a day…It would have been nice to go to Champs Elysée and Place de l’etoile.”

Damian briefly spun you around so you were facing him again. “Who’s to say we can’t do that still?” 

“You’re Dad and Alfred? They said we’d be going back to Gotham the day after the wedding?” 

He hummed. “Too bad I’ll have to tell them we’ll be staying for another week so I can take you everywhere else you want to go to in France.”

“You what?” 

“Is that a yes?” He asked. “I was hoping to take you to Paris for a date.” 

“I- Yes! Of course it’s a yes, Damian!” 

“Oh that’s good, because I already booked everything and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” He smiled at you like a complete dork. 

“Hell yeah! Time for crab stuffed mushrooms and a huge ciambellone!” Dick hollered, Barbara in his arms. 

The huge crowd seemed to be making their way to their cars, petals still drifting in the air.

Your stomach growled.

“I am starving, come on! Let’s go so we don’t have to deal with a ridiculous line for food!” You exclaimed, this time dragging Damian to his car. Your giddy laughter filled the air like a melody. 

Damian couldn’t help but smile broadly. “Alright, beloved."

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD I AM DONE WITH THIS. Don't get me wrong, I had a blast with this series, but I had no idea that this final part would take this long to write. I had thought that I would have enough time to finish it on Wednesday, not realizing I would write another 5k words.

The writing towards the end is probably not as good as the beginning because I had a little bit of a hard time. Still, I hope you guys liked the ending. There was so much more I wanted to add to it too, but my writing juices were thoroughly squeezed and I didn't want to push it back further.

TAGLIST: @greenkiki, @lorosette, @noah-uhhh-what, @vanessa-boo, @herascave, @celestair, @trashmouthsahra, @littlemiss-nightshade and @itzstaticrainbow

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly. 

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile? 

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says. 

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble. 

“True. But he is an idiot.” 

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale. 

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.” 

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter. 

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?” 

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?” 

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen. 

“Why not?” 

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it. 

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you. 

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl. 

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently. 

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in. 

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.” 

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps. 

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating. 

“So, found a guy to take you out?” 

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have. 

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.” 

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this: 

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases. 

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both. 

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?” 

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation. 

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim. 

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant. 

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child. 

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!” 

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently. 

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.” 

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice. 

“‘Samu…” 

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.” 

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you. 

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted. 

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight. 

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on. 

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular. 

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter. 

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.” 

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before. 

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.” 

“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night. 

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break. 

“I’ll walk with ya.” 

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit. 

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time. 

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight. 

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway. 

“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.” 

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you. 

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.  

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face. 

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself. 

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had. 

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway. 

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. 

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs. 

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?” 

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes. 

“Who?” you mumble. 

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air. 

“I don’t know… I just…” 

“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Osamu raises his brows. 

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.” 

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?” 

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off. 

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin. 

“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!” 

“Huh?” 

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-” 

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.” 

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 

“Osamu…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before. 

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used. 

His question goes unanswered. 

– 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu. 

It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around. 

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision. 

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock. 

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth. 

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter. 

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-” 

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say. 

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-” 

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu. 

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.” 

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks. 

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act. 

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory. 

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do. 

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-” 

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out. 

“Hey, ‘Samu!” 

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face. 

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope. 

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy. 

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you. 

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly. 

“You just…?” he prompts. 

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself. 

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.” 

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?” 

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him. 

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you. 

“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap. 

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?” 

He stops stroking your hair. 

“What, ya don’t like it?” 

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. 

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him. 

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time. 

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?” 

You nod shyly. 

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 

“I want it.” 

“Alright. C’mere then.” 

You oblige. 

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck. 

You nod. 

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?” 

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle. 

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.” 

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth. 

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”