#there's a friendly nonchalance to it. a very clear amusement and not in a way that undermines anything this segment is setting out to achie

[ducktracy]

proper reupload in the high quality this fantastic segment so deserves; eagle pig and duck bias notwithstanding, this will forever be my favorite variant of the fabled switcheroo (and a reminder that Daffy was first at his own game!) the committal on behalf of both characters--especially the sincerity of Daffy's feigned sincerity--really sets it apart

[miitgaanar]

@soartfullydone asked: No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.” Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.” - Lemuel/Bastion

So. Uh. This was a whumptober prompt. But every month is whumptober if you really want it to be.

Anyway. I've dedicated the last eleven years of my life to trying to figure out how Lemuel Adelier ticks. I hate to admit that Bastion's been woefully neglected on my end. My studies did not include this bird man.

This was also my attempt to practice writing a fic that is decidedly not 4,000 words. I need to get better at writing shorter pieces, damnit.

I'm sorry to anyone who decides to read this. lmao ***

"Don't move."

Bastion Winalils lifted his hands in the air as if in surrender, though his shoulders remained rounded and a heavy, bored sigh escaped him.  He could feel the tip of a blade digging into his back, the steel cold and sharp.  It would be simple enough to offset out of harm's way, to vanish from his assailant's view within the span of a breath—only to then reappear behind him and rip the air from his lungs.

But that would be too simple, and this particular assailant too fun to poke and prod like a rabid beast.

"Is that any way to greet a friendly face, Captain Adelier?" Bastion intoned, daring a glance over his shoulder.  Adelier's face was stone, his eyes hard and his mouth a firm, thin line.  A roguish grin lit up the Black Tongue's pale visage.  "And here I thought we had developed a rather cordial working relationship."

"I didn't call on you Ilgan Yag," Adelier spat, as if the word were poison upon his tongue.  Oh, if only.  "You'd best have good reason for defiling the Temple grounds with your stench."

"Does Ssael not open his doors to everyone?" Bastion needled further.  He was rewarded with the tip of the sword pressing harder into his back.  His grin only widened.

"Not everyone," Adelier ground out.

"A pity.  A convert might very well have been lost this day."

"Enough.  Do not toy with me.  I'm in no mood."

That much was clear.  Though Bastion couldn't say he'd ever caught the Soud in a particularly receptive mood.  "Fine, then," Bastion said, lowering his arms to play at adjusting the hem of his gloves.  A show of nonchalance, though his lips remained upturned in thinly veiled amusement.  "Perhaps you can help me."

"I'd rather help a sow find her bliss," Adelier said flatly.

"Come now," Bastion said, turning on his heel to face the Soud.  The blade remained level with his chest, those piss colored eyes boring into him with a fearsome ire, but he was otherwise unmolested.  "I'm just following a bit of gossip.  I simply wished to confirm it at the source."

Adelier's brow rose a fraction, inquisitive.  Bastion had to smother the smirk that begged to take shape.

"What sort of gossip?"

"The most interesting kind," Bastion continued.  "There's been talk of a caster amongst your lot.  Talented, it seems.  Can cast with nary a word spoken."

Adelier flinched, his blade faltering slightly.  A surge of satisfaction flooded Bastion's veins, and that smirk appeared unbidden.

"Tacit casters are incredibly rare," he explained, the words laced with a not so subtle taunt.  "Not to mention innate tacits.  So of course I had to follow the trail and see for myself.  Color me surprised when the source turned out to be the Lion's very own Delight."  The moniker came out with more bite than he had intended, but the scars at his back itched, and only now did some relief for that old wound appear to be at hand.

Adelier's face seemed to blanch, though it was difficult to tell in the dim light of a looming dusk.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, the words gruff and forced.

"Your niece has been very busy, it seems," Bastion continued undaunted, his gaze flickering down to examine his nails.  "Though I suppose she'd be your daughter now, yes?  Congratulations on the nuptials, by the way.  I would have sent a fruit basket had I been informed."

In a flash, Bastion found himself with that same blade pressed to his throat, the steel bitingly cold against his warm flesh as Adelier closed the short distance between them.  Adelier was fairly agile for a man of his build.  He had begun to harden himself in the few years since that dark, snowy night, the almost lithe form he had once sported now showing more bulk.

He should only know that his brutish ways would not save him—or her—should Bastion will it.

"I swear to God," Adelier rumbled, his breath fogging the air between them.  "If you so much as come within ten yards of her, of any of them, I will flay you alive and leave you for your hallowed crows."

They stood almost nose to nose, close enough that Bastion could see the ragged edges of the ugly scar carved into the Soud's face.  It twisted with the scowl that pulled at his countenance, turning his handsome features into something unsightly.  That same petty satisfaction thrummed hotly beneath his flesh.

Bastion allowed himself a soft chuckle, the minute movement causing the sharpened edge of the sword to dig into the skin of his throat.  A bead of blood welled under the blade, slowly trailing down the Black Tongue's neck and pooling within the hollow of his clavicle.  Fury danced in Adelier's eyes, his piercing gaze seeming to pulse a fiery gold.

But before he could make good on his threat, or at the very least slit Bastion's throat from ear to ear, Bastion held his hands up once more as if in surrender—though his smirk did not once falter.

"Promises, promises, darling," he said, his tone light and taunting, and grabbed for the hilt of the sword.  His free hand reached for that ever immovable silver torc at his neck and murmured something near inaudible, though loud enough for the khert to heed his call.

Adelier dropped the blade as if burned, the hilt glowing a bright orange and sizzling softly against the frost dusted ground—but before he could fully draw that second dreadful sword, Bastion had already vanished from view, his laughter echoing endlessly into the khert itself.

[blackbat05]

Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader 

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days? 

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic. 

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in. 

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down. 

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress. 

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’ 

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter- 

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’ 

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand. 

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭  pào fàn (poached rice).’ 

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’ 

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’ 

‘I was born ready.’ 

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers. 

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’ 

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly. 

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos. 

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind. 

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’ 

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise. 

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle. 

‘Again! Again!’ 

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’  As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’ 

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’ 

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes. 

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’ 

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl. 

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’ 

‘Are you her boyfriend?’ 

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’ 

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’ 

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth. 

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him. 

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. 

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day. 

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far! 

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show! 

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 5

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: It has begun lmfao, check out the link at the end of this post if you’d like to be tagged in the next updates! Would love to receive feedbacks! 

MASTERLIST

-

You found yourself in the conference room of the Avengers compound, together with Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Fury discussing about an upcoming mission.

Sharon went over the brief of the mission with everyone. There was an intel about a certain drug cartel that decided to expand their business and venture into the trade of biological weapons as well. Grabbing the folder on the desk, you skimmed through the information and frowned when your eyes landed on a familiar name.

“Black Sparrow? I thought the entire organization was taken down during the raid years ago?” You asked.

Bucky turned to you, “You know these guys?”

“One of my first missions, I was the assigned liaison officer to check up on the whistleblower who was placed under the witness protection program.” You explained.

Sharon sighed, “Apparently, not everyone was imprisoned. Whoever decided to keep the organization going, we have no idea.”

The mission required all of you to find out about the illegal trades. There wasn’t much information provided, except for the tip that an important trade might be taking place soon.

“Black Sparrow’s nest is said to be hidden within a fruit shop downtown.” Sharon added.

Fury let Sam takeover the strategizing, with him deciding to do a stakeout to see how the organization operates. Once the trade takes place, raid the nest, find out the other groups involved and most importantly the source of biological weapons.

“You up for a stakeout, Buck?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged and glanced at you, “Only if the babysitter agrees to do so.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Mister Barnes, I would appreciate it if you’d address me properly.” You scolded.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright. Sharon and I will try to research on the potential groups involved in the trades. Stakeout starts tonight so pack your things.”

-

All your things have been packed and you were about to leave your room when you received a call from none other than Secretary Ross.

“Ugh, what does he want now?” You complained to yourself before accepting the call.

“I heard about the stakeout, Agent. Isn’t it convenient?”

You rolled your eyes; the secretary’s voice was too chirpy, as if he was excited. He was definitely up to something, what it was, you still didn’t know. Something about the mission you were tasked to do was off. They didn’t even tell you for how long you needed to tag along the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, sir. I will make sure to keep an eye on the subject and report whatever it is that I find out of place.” You reassured, hoping that the secretary would simply hum in agreement and end the call.

“Good. But wouldn’t it be better if you stir things up a bit?” He asked.

You frowned, “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

Secretary Ross chuckled, “Push his buttons, Agent. See how he reacts to certain triggers.”

God, he really wants you to dig some dirt on Bucky. You were supposed to tell him that you already tried doing so and that nothing bad happened, but the Secretary reminded you that he wanted to see a detailed report about it and ended the call.

You didn’t want to push Bucky’s buttons anymore. Bringing up the Soldat seemed too much already and he had already proven how much in control he was of himself. However, you felt conflicted as well since you needed to file a report. You could easily fake it though, but you were afraid that the secretary might have eyes and ears lurking around.

You were too deep into your thoughts, almost losing track of the time. Thankfully, FRIDAY interrupted and informed you that Bucky and Sam were already outside the compound, waiting for you.

-

“You’re eight minutes late, Agent.” Sam reprimanded as you approached them.

“Did you have a hard time packing Bucky’s diapers and feeding bottles?” He teased.

Bucky grunted in dismay, “Jesus, Sam.”

“Sorry, had to take a phone call from the secretary.” You responded and began placing your things inside the trunk of the car.

Bucky stiffened at the mention of Secretary Ross, his hands tightened into fists at his side. You eyed his stance and noticed that he seemed uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t be if the government had their eyes on you?

“Nothing to worry about, Mister Barnes. You’re all good. I made sure of that.” You told him reassuringly before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Bucky drove to the stakeout location with an uncomfortable silence in the air with the occassional directions coming from the GPS. You were slightly nervous about being on a week-long stakeout. It wasn’t because you were afraid of Bucky, but being with him by yourself was intimidating.

Seven days with the Winter Soldier. With no one else around.

You and the Winter Soldier. On a stakeout. For an entire week.

The more you thought about it, the more it was beginning to sink in. You’ve had your fair share of stakeouts in the past, but you were either by yourself or paired someone you closely worked with. But a stakeout with Bucky Barnes? How the fuck were you going to keep calm the entire week and maintain your calm persona?

“So...” Bucky trailed, tone unsure as if he too was uncomfortable with the silence and decided to break it but not knowing how to proceed.

“Do you want to turn on the radio?” He asked and cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the road.

You looked out the window, “Yeah, why not.” You said with faux nonchalance.

Bucky quickly turned it on and adjusted the volume. He skimmed through various radio stations before settling on one.

Despite having the radio playing in the background, the atmosphere between you and Bucky remained awkward and uncomfortable. You could tell that Bucky could feel it too, so you decided to start a conversation.

“How has it been being an Avenger?”

You didn’t know why you chose that question, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, “Is that part of your research on me or are you actually trying to start a conversation?” He asked, glancing at you with amusement.

“You know what, forget about it, Mister Barnes.” You waved off.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was genuinely curious.” He sheepishly responded, “But to answer your question, it’s been...weird so to speak. Especially having someone watch my every move.”

You shrugged, “Well, I apologize but I don’t have a choice. This is my job and I have to—“

“I know, Agent. You don’t need to explain, I completely understand. I’m really trying not to make it hard for you to do your job.” He explained.

You were actually surprised at how easy it was to talk to Bucky. You were expecting him to be completely broody and tight-lipped, considering all the things he went through. There were times when he’d be moody of course, but for the most part, he was friendly. And very kind.

“Well then I appreciate it, Mister Barnes.” You stated.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “I’m still looking forward to the day when you’d call me, Bucky.” He said and gave you a smile.

You felt your face heat up from the way he smiled at you and how his eyes crinkled at the sides. He almost looked the same as he did in his photos dated back to the 40’s, when he was oozing with that boyish charm and innocence before he was drafted for the war.

You immediately looked away and bit your lip.

-

The two of you arrived at the cheap motel that was situated a few blocks away from the fruit shop. The building was old and almost looked dilapidated. It was known to be the number one spot for illegal transactions. It was the perfect place for a stakeout.

“The old lady at the reception seemed suspicious of us, I saw how she eyed the both of us when we checked in.” You said upon entering the motel room, groaning at the stench that welcomed your nostrils.

Obviously, the room was far from decent given the quality of the motel itself. There were two beds separated by a night desk and a small coffee table; the cream curtains were splotchy and dusty, some parts of the wallpaper were torn apart and the flooring creaked with every single step.

“I think she was merely judging us, thinking we’re one of those couples.” Bucky said as he placed his bags on the bed.

“Those couples?” You asked, walking over to the other bed and inspecting the bedding.

“Well, I heard this motel is a popular location for shooting x-rated videos.” Bucky explained casually as he walked towards the window, pushing the curtains aside, revealing the perfect view of Black Sparrow’s nest.

You almost choke on your own spit, “You mean to say...that old lady thought we were going to shoot porn?!”

Bucky hummed, “Maybe. It’s probably for the best, that way we’ll remain unsuspicious. Less chances of being interrupted as well.” he replied casually, as if it was no big deal but you also noticed that the corner of his lips curved into a slight smirk.

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure and went to unpack your things instead, starting with some of the weapons you brought. A stakeout often resulted to a raid so you had to make sure that you were prepared in case of an attack. Bucky moved away from the window and closed the curtains again before sitting on his bed.

“Those all yours?” he asked with interest as he watched you arrange your knives and guns on top of your bed.

You glanced at him for a quick second and saw the glint in his eyes as he observed your arsenal, you just hummed in response and started cleaning your guns while Bucky watched in silence.

“When we sparred...” he trailed and you froze, expecting him to confront you when you brought up the Soldat to trigger him.

“You used Romanoff’s technique. Where did you learn that?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Mister Barnes, it’s not that hard to learn that move. I’m just as trained as you and Mister Wilson, I know a lot of moves.” you explained but Bucky didn’t seem to buy it.

“It’s actually kinda hard to execute that move. Not a lot of trained agents can do that easily.” he pressed.

You pursed your lips before looking up at him, “Sounds to me like you’re trying to compliment my skills, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky ended up letting go of the topic.

-

The first few hours of the stakeout was uneventful; you and Bucky simply kept watch to see whether there were suspicious movements in the fruit shop. It seemed to be a regular fruit shop but there were certain people walking in and out of it that looked pretty shady.

This was going to be a difficult task.

There were small conversations between you and Bucky, mostly formal and about the mission. Everything seemed to be going well but you knew that the longer the both of you would stakeout together, the more it was going to be uncomfortable. You figured that you’d cross that bridge when you get there.

It was past six when you felt a pang of hunger; the last time you had a meal was during lunch. You needed to get food before your stomach could even embarrass you in front of Bucky who remained staring out of the window, keeping watch.

“I’m getting us food for dinner, would you like anything?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head, “Anything is fine.” he offered a small smile.

You left the motel and thankfully, there was a nearby Mcdonald’s a couple blocks away. On your way back, you decided to casually pass by the fruit shop to get a closer look. You didn’t want to linger around but you did notice that there were certain people who kept on going in and out of the store throughout the day. You rushed back to your room to inform Bucky about it and upon stepping inside, you were welcomed by the sight of the Winter Soldier fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel that was wrapped around his waist while he was drying his hair with another towel.

Your eyes immediately zoomed in on the droplets of water that was running from Bucky’s neck down to his pecs, sliding lower to his chiseled abs. Your eyes remained on his abdomen, even when the water had disappeared into the towel around his waist. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you shifted your gaze back to Bucky’s face hoping that he didn’t catch you staring at his body.

Oh, but it was too late because your eyes were immediately met by a pair of baby blues.

“I...b-bought...” you stammered and wanted to slap yourself for sounding like an idiot. “...dinner from uh...Burger King.” you continued, unable to look away from Bucky’s piercing gaze.

“Mcdonald’s.” he said.

“What?”

“You bought from Mcdonald’s...not Burger King.” Bucky corrected you, pointing towards the brown paper bag in your hands.

You coughed and finally managed to look away from Bucky’s half-naked figure, “Yes, I meant Mcdonald’s. Sorry.” you softly said and pre-occupied yourself by taking out the food from the paper bag and placing them on the small table.

As you focused your attention on arranging the food on the desk, you felt Bucky hover behind you. His bare chest slightly pressing against your back as he reached for the french fries that was still inside the paper bag. You stood still and tried to keep your cool despite the closeness between you and Bucky. He pulled away just as quickly and grinned when you looked back at him with a frown.

“You smell good, Agent.” he said before grabbing his clothes from his bed and walking back into the bathroom to get dressed.

You blinked a couple of times before you realized what had just happened.

“Fuck!” you whispered under your breath.

This was going to be one hell of a stakeout.

-

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[violetnotez]

Hawks x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 5300+

⤷ Warnings: mild cursing

⤷ Synopsis:  Hawks is completely head over heels when he meets the new side kick of Mirko, y/n, hero name Angel. After meeting y/n, Hawks begs Mirko to train the young hero himself, and starts a friendly relationship with her. But now Hawks wants to take it to the next level, and what better than a milkshake date to make her his.

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub Bingo Event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event!

Bingo Slot: Milkshake Date

This is my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully its not too ooc! Also Im sorry if its kinda wordy? I feel like I just kinda went overboard!

Hawks sighed, his hands cradling  his head lazily in boredom.

Another mind numbing meeting to suffocate his precious hours.

It was hard not to be a little annoyed at these weekly hero meetings he was somehow tangled up into. He could be doing so much more with this time, like working on his own missions or even catching up on some very over do paperwork. But With the LOV and other various villain organizations on the rise, the heroes have noticed that now more than ever, citizens are desperate for some stability and reassurance from their beloved heroes. So, with the help of various hero agencies, they had devised a plan to have heroes patrolling the streets frequently, way more frequently than before to promote the image that “the heroes were in control” and “more powerful than ever before.”

What a load of crap that was.

Hawks fought the urge to roll his eyes and interrupt this pompous executive who had the nerve to preach to heroes, and the top rated ones at that. He was amused looking around, seeing how many well known heroes were still attending these obnoxious meetings-every one in the top 20  was in this room, including Endeavor and Mirko. That was typical for these heroes, since approval ratings were so important, but today was a little different. The size of the group had expanded, the seats now occupied with a few lower rank heroes, a couple sidekicks, and a few newbies that were gaining some popularity.

Hawks watched as the stiff looking executive pushed his glasses back to his nose tightly, a small cough clearing his throat.

“Now, I think it would be a wise time for all the newest joining heroes in our mission of peace to stand and say a few words,”

Oh great-now it was show and tell.

Hawks was  fighting the urge to outright humiliate this man in front of him for wasting so much of his time- it wasn't quite in his nature to keep his mouth shut. But, he had to admit that this was partially his fault: he had volunteered to be a part of this, and he had to respect the commitment he signed up for.

The man turnd to his right, his eyes trained on the Rabbit Hero herself.

“Miruko, would you like to introduce your sidekick first?” he asked, his voice monotone and serious.

Hawks instantly perked up at the man’s statement- so Miruko did bring along her sidekick? 

He had heard a little about the stir Miruko had worked up in the media when she announced she had a new sidekick. Miruko has notoriously built the image of “working alone”, so the fact she had taken on a new partner had thrown everyone in quite a loop. He personally wasn’t quite interested in digging himself too into the dramatic headlines, he was way too busy for that, but from the bits and pieces he heard, you showed promise.

Your quirk was powerful, you were great with civilians, and you were pretty efficient in battle. He was mutually intrigued by you, especially since your introduction was the one thing he found remotely interesting in this whole meeting.

Miruko grinned devilishly, her red eyes gleaming. 

“Sure thing,” she answered good naturally, her tough body standing up to introduce the person beside her. “As you all know by now, this is my new side kick-Angel,”

Oh and what a angel you were.

Hawks was completely enraptured by you, his eyes widening as he watched you stand up, your face coated in an incident look of nervousness and your pretty lips formed in a shy smile.

Man, if he knew how drop dead gorgeous you were, he would have made you his sidekick. 

He rested his head deeper into his gloved hand, a quiet whistle escaping his lips. 

And that hero suit wasn’t too bad either- your hero costume was sexy yet sleek, with a plunging white neckline and metal armor shaped like feathers that protected your shoulders. It was beautiful, elegant, and tantalizing to his eyes, his pupils hovering over each plush curve and indent of your tight body suit. 

Something caught Hawk’s eye, though, and he leaned in slightly to see what it was-something white and fluffy was twitching on both sides of you, the curve extremely familiar-until he realized: you had wings.

They weren’t anywhere as large as his, but they were much more, well, angelic than his. His wings were loud and prideful with their overpowering size and rich blood red color. They were durable, tough, and screamed for attention.

Your wings though were silent beauties, barely noticeable yet once seen took your breath away. The feathers were a delicate white like snow, and with careful inspections had a shimmer to them like stained glass in a cathedral. They were absolutely mesmerizing, and Hawks found himself staring at those wings as you began to introduce yourself.

“Hello,” he watched you timidly speak out. It was adorable to watch, your shoulders trying to show strength by being puffed out like a prideful little bird, but oh the way your smile trembled and your digits fidgeted showed just how wracked with nerves you were. “I am the Angelic hero-Angel. My quirk is that I can create a calming effect on people, as well as fly” 

Your eyes ghosted over the heroes in front of you, each face more stony and cold than the last. You finally gave a small glance at Hawks, his heart jumping in his chest. 

Your eyes were so warm and enticing, wanting to swallow him whole with those pretty irises swimming with pure sweetness. His cheek was pushed up against his hand as he sent you a mischievous wink your way, a  grin blossoming against his lips as he watched you become even more flustered than before.

His chest puffed up with pride as you sat down, knowing he had made a small impression on you. Maybe it was the dreariness of this meeting, or the fact he hadn't had any romantic endeavors in ages, but he had already gained a liking to you.

You walked out of the meeting, your head swarming and your heart pacing. Your first real hero meeting! You could practically scream with giddiness, electricity ebbing from your fingertips as you walked alongside your mentor, Miruko. 

It was a dream to be working alongside such a skilled and likeable hero as herself, and you couldn't be more thankful for the bunny hero for seeing potential in you. Being a year out of UA, it was expected for you to start interning or even becoming sidekicks in order to get a  headstart in the hero business. Even though Mirko was notorious for turning down any and all interns, you had applied to her agency and surprisingly has gotten in. 

Now you were working with one of the top dogs of the whole Hero industry, and the pressure of that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“So, what do ya think of your first hero meeting?” Miruko asked, her red eyes gleaming as she walked alongside you as the rest of the heroes crowded out of the conference room.

“It was-interesting” you spoke carefully, your tongue trying to find the best words. It was exhilarating to be around all these heroes, from up and coming to even the #1, but you had to admit it wasn't as intense as you had imagined it to be. 

“Hella boring, huh?” Miruko interjected truthfully, her voice booming and unapologetic. “Eh, don't worry, these aren't every meeting. The team ups are better- alot more interesting things go on in those ones-”

Just then, a man dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants came up to the Bunny hero, a badge connected to his belt. 

“Hey detective, what can I do for you?” she asked goodnaturedly, her slim fingers wrapping around her hips.

“Im extremely sorry to bother you on such short notice, but we have a case currently revolving around a few villains you reprimanded last week and needed a testimony from you about their quirks-”

“Sure thing!” she grinned, her red eyes traveling from the detective down to you, ,”You think youll be okay? Ill only be gone for a few minutes,”

“O-of course! Ill be fine,” your smile wavered slightly, a small gulp being emitted from your throat. 

Alone? Around all these heroes? You didn’t feel too ready for that- but you had to start somewhere. It was time to rip off that band-aid and be one with the heroes.

You began to feel your hands get clammy all ready as you watched the scene in front of you, feeling like a goldfish in a tank of sharks.

“An actual angel walking on the ground-never thought I’d see the day,” you heard a male voice next to you, the tone nonchalant and mischievous. You turned to your side, the wind getting kicked out of your chest-

No. Damn. Way.

“Your Hawks-the Winged Hero,” you breathed out in shock, 

The hero smiled at you, his wide grin playful as he gazed at you with those piercing yellow eyes

“The one and only,” he said cockily.

You werent going to lie-Hawks was one of your favorite heroes, probably your all time favorite. He was so successful for his age, being only a few years older than you. His quirk was also extremely powerful, and he was a huge inspiration for you since his quirk was so similar to yours. Also, the fact that he was known to be kind of a flirt, on top of him being incredibly handsome, made you the biggest fangirl for him.

“Gotta say babe, your wings are pretty impressive-surprise you didn't apply to my agency,” the winged hero commented, his voice extremely calm and inviting.

But wait-did he just call you ‘babe’? Oh god-your heart began to pound against your chest, your cheeks feeling warm from the small word. 

You grinned slightly at the hero, your expression small and almost shy.

“How do you know I didnt?” You quipped, trying to sound calm as the attractive hero continued to give you that playful smirk.

“Oh believe me-I would have remembered if you did,” his voice almost dropped, sounding way more huskier than before. 

Christ-he really was a flirt. You could practically feel your heart banging against your rib cage, your hands feeling clammy and your cheeks quite warm.

 He was too teasing for his own good-but it was almost endearing, like he was trying to impress you.

It reminded you of birds during mating Season, the ones who would sing the prettiest songs in order to attract a mate-and really any mate. Hawks was probably just like that-say a few pretty things, and had some fun trying to get a girl hooked under those ruby red wings.

“But I don't blame you for going with Miruko,” he admitted,” she's one hell of a hero, probably the one of the best ones around,”

You cocked your head in confusion, a short wave of shock circling your body. Hawks seemed too cocky to say a positive remark about a hero-most of the time he was preaching about how the heroes played it too safe and the hero world needed a desperate change. He seemed to group all heroes into a category and gave himself a whole one to himself, as if he was different from everyone around him. 

So yeah, it was a little strange to hear him congratulate any hero really, but it feels your chest with pride-you definitely had to have made a good decision going with Miruko if the most judgmental hero in Japan seemed to approve. But you still felt a little guilty for making him think you only cared about getting in with Miruko and not any other hero.

“Well, I was planning on applying to more agencies,” you stated, an apologetic smile playing on your lips, “yours was on the list,

The hero chuckled at your remark, not taking you quite seriously. “Oh I bet-”

“It was, I promise!” You smiled at him, your tone trying to be reassuring. 

God, why did he have to be so-well-pretty? He was looking at you strangely, as if he was drinking you in as you continued to talk. His lemon yellow eyes were glazed over with adoration, and you couldn’t t help but be flustered by the sight.

“Its just-she took me on so quickly,” you gulped out, trying desperately to calm your beating heart, “ it was kinda shocking. I honestly was so excited I just took her offer and didn't think of going to other agencies,”

“Awww, Not even mind, angel?” He cooed out, his feathers vibrating with the small sound, “It would have been fun having you around-

“I promise, I would have applied to your agency in a heartbeat if she didn't accept me,” you reassured the hero.

He simply nodded, an accepting grin playing on his face as if he finally took your word for it. His gloved hands were hidden into his pant pockets, his Stance calm and comfortable.

“So, angel,” he asked, changing the subject,   “how long have you  been interning with Mirko?”

Something about this hero calling you “angel” felt different-of course it was your hero name, and of course he would call you by that but-it felt different coming from him. It sounded playful and flirtatious as if he was calling you by a secret little pet name only reserved for you. It may because of his coy antics or his seductive smirk, but it was making you feel warm and comfy inside.

“This will be my 3rd week,” you replied, your blush getting much worse 

“Third week, huh?” he said, his voice genuinely curious, “Has she been teaching you alotta things?”

“Oh yeah she's amazing!” you exclaimed. 

Mirko was the most amazing mentor and even more. Most sidekicks or interns had the worst time with big time heroes, always left on the back burner to do the heroes paperwork or simply do tedious errands for them without ever learning a single thing. But with Miruko, this wasn’t the case at all. 

This was a blessing and a curse-since you were always out on patrol with  the hero, the media had seem to take a liking to you. Not only were you always beaten up and tired, you had to now deal with being in the limelight since you were Miruko’s new sidekick, something the media never thought they’d see.

 “I’ve been patrolling, working on small cases, even being able to actually stop a few crimes- I think that's why the press is so on me,” you added, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips.

You heard the hero chuckle slightly, his wavy blonde hair shaking as he shook his head

“Aw, you really are a little baby bird-” he cooked at you, your eyebrows cocked in confusion.

A baby bird? 

He seemed to notice your confusion, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

“Ah don’t worry angel, I don’t mean anything bad by calling you that,” he stated, “You're not used to this whole hero thing. But promise me, you'll get used to it-,”

“Especially when they make dumb scandals about you-”

He added on, his tone more tired. It was true with Hawks being one of the Top 10 heroes and being as young as he is, he had his fair share of conspiracies and allegations revolving around him.

“Oh, like the one about your favorite food being chicken? I thought that one was hilarious”,” you giggled.

Hawks turned to you, his cheeky grin now turn to one coated in seriousness,

““Oh no, babe,  that one is completely real,”

You whipped around, your eyes blown out wide with shock

“What? Your joking-“

“Completely serious!” He laughed, his grin wide and mischievous, “Who doesn't love fried chicken! It's the best food in my opinion-ya can't go wrong with it,”

You gave him a playful look of distaste, your noise scrunched up.

 “Really? But it’s kinda, well, weird-“

Hawks groaned, but that smile was still plastered on his face. 

“Don’t tell me your siding with those tabloid writers,” 

“This time-maybe,” you giggled, a smile you were sporting uncontainable.

“Aw, Cmon angel, I was beginning to like you!” He chuckled playfully along with you

Finally as your laughs began to die down, a thought crossed your mind, and you turned to the Wing Hero With the question playing on your tongue.

“Ya know I've always wanted to ask you something,” you said, your eyes meeting the sun yellow orbs of Hawk’s

That smile was still tugging at his lips, making him look adorably young and boyish.

“Lay it on me babe-”

You swallowed thickly, a miix of nervousness and embarrassment filling your stomach.

“How to do you use your wings? In battle-or when you fly?”

It was Hawk’s turn to look confused, his fluffy eyebrows angled softly. He seemed to understand what you meant by how self conscious you look, a hint of sympathy playing in his eyes.

“Wait-” he said slowly,  “you mean you don't know how to use your wings?”

You cringed, hating how blunt the sentence sounded. It was true, you never really got the hang of using your wings. It was embarrassing to admit it, but it was something you had to work through. If you wre going to be a high ranking Hero you were going to need to be at 100% of your potential.

“Wll I-I do, I can float but I cant fly very high up-,” you stumbled out,” nowhere near your height though. And I want to be able to carry people and well- I just don’t know how to start,”

Hawk’s nonchalant girn was again on his face, “See, little chickadee, this is why you should have applied to my agency,” he joked.

You sighed exasperatedly 

“I know,” you smiled, “you have a  good point there,”

The gloved digits of Hawk’s hand wrapped around his chin, his lips pouted slightly in thought.

“Honestly, it took me a little bit to really get the hang of it- Ive been using my wings since I was a kid- so it might be some time for you to get the hang of yours”

“Id be up for helping you with some pointers,” He turned to you, a playful grin plastered on his cheeks. That smile would be the death of you- it somehow made your head feel incredibly cloudy and your legs feel like jelly. 

“ but you gotta promise me one thing,”

You cocked your head, your eyebrows stitched in confusion

“Whats that?”

You had never seen a more shit eating grin in your life- Haws gazed up at you, his eyes glinting devilishily

“Don't fly too high up-Can't be having an angel going back up to heaven” he said, making your cheeks incredibly hot as he walked away, knowing full well he had made you too flustered to even talk.

Damn- he really was a flirt

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

“Great job, chickadee, your really getting the hang of this!” Hawks yelled out, his hands cupped over his mouth.

Your cheeks were red with pride and nervousness, your wings flapping against you as you hovered in the air. You were probably 3 stories high on Hawk’s agency building, your eyes trying to desperately to not look down. 

This was exhilarating to be so high up, but- it was terrifying!

Your heart was pacing against your chest, a heavy drum that was painfully raping against your rib age.

Don’t look down, don’t look down….damn it.

You caught a glimpse of your feet in midair, your steel plated boots almost floating over the street below as cars honked at each other and pedestrians walked along the asphalt.

The extremely hard, durable asphalt that could turn you into a human pancake in a matter of seconds.

The image of that terrible idea made your head swarm with panic- your wings flapping haphazardly as you flew backwards back to the safety of the balcony.

This was too much-this height was insane. Hawks was insane- how could he even fly comfortably at this height!

Hawks had been training you a few days a week, something you were extremely grateful for- you were know working as a sidekick with one of the top heroes and having private lesson with the #2 hero?! You honestly couldn't be more grateful-

Until he decided to make you fly by yourself on top of an extremely high building. On your 5th lesson! How crazy could this man be?

You weren't even noticing how fast your wings were flying backwards until your feet hit the firm tiles of the balcony. It took you by surprise, another pit slamming your chest as you tried to catch yourself from falling on your face, your feet shuffling backwards in an attempt to find some grounding.

So you chickened out of an exercise (something Hawks was definitely going to joke about) and now you were going to bruise your ass from falling in front of your favorite hero /crush. Just great.

“Whoa there, babe, slow down!”

You felt a pair of gloved hands grab ahold of your waist, the hands firm and tight against your ribcage. You could practically hear the laughter in Hawk’s voice, as if he found your fail incredibly amusing. 

Your cheeks were heating up, realizing how close you were to the hero- his chest was pressed up against your back, and you could feel his chin grazing against your windswept hair.

“So,” he asked, his voice taking on a more husky tone, “how’d it feel when you fell from heaven?”

God, that voice- hearing him flirt so close to your ear made his words sound way too intimate, making your back tingle and your cheeks blaze red.

An exasperated groan slipped from your lips, your body pushing away from Hawk’s as he began to chuckle at your flusteredness.

“You were just dying to say that, huh?”

“What, you can't blame a guy!” he said between laughs, “you did set me up for it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, your back turning away from him in an attempt to hide your obvious blush.

“You're still a little scared to fly high, huh?” Hawks tone was calm and nonchalant, making you feel grateful that he wasn't too mad at you for freaking out so suddenly.

You tucked a piece of hair self consciously behind your ear. It was so frustrating to you- you were gifted with these wonderful wings, yet you could barely use them “Yeah, a little,” you sighed, “its just-I don't know how to get over it, and it feel like I'm not improving fast enough-”

Hawks sent you a sympathetic smirk, his lemon yellow eyes gleaming in the golden rays of sunset. 

“Ah dont put too much pressure on yourself Angel, you'll get it eventually!”

“And besides,” he added, “you have been getting better- before we started you could barely flap your wings...now look at you! You flew over a whole street for almost 5 minutes!”

His smile was beaming, his tone so supportive and kind. Times like this you almost wished you had chosen to apply to be Hawk’s sidekick- he was so carefree and positive about everything. he somehow made every situation feel like a milestone, no matter how little you improved, and it made you feel a little better about your progress.

You gave him a meek smile, the cruddy feeling of failure still sinking in your chest.

“Aw, don't give me that sad face, angel,” he cooed, “you're gonna be just fine- you'll see,”

Still- you couldn't seem to get out of your saddened daze, even with his overwhelming positivity. 

Hawks seemed to notice, the usually chatty man suddenly quiet. It was strange to see him like that,as he rubbed his pointer finger against his stubbled chin, deep in thought.

“Ya know, I think I know just what you need,” he finally said, his tone warm like honey, “you need a small break- something to take your mind off of all this.”

“There’s a little diner on the West side of town- it's got the best comfort food you've ever tasted, and you can really taste the flavor in their meals,” Hawk sent you a glimmering smile, one that could stop your heart in a matter of seconds.

 “What do ya say, angel, down for some grub? It'll be my treat, promise.”

Free food and you get to spend time with your mentor/crush? You sighed, a smile creeping onto your lips. 

“Sure, why not,”

  ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

And thats how you ended up here, in a little whole in the wall diner near Hawk’s apartment.

The restaurant was decorated to look relatively old, 1950’s memorabilia plastered on the walls and even a jukebox playing dance music from the era playing softly in the background.

The place was quite adorable in your opinions, and you really couldnt understand how Hawks had even found the place.

Until you realized- they had the best fried chicken you ever eaten in your whole life

Hawks wasnt lying when he said the food was good-it was incredible, the flavors and textures so warm and crisp as they dissolved on your tongue. 

You two had gobbled up the meal, hungry from a days worth of training. The milkshakes Hawks had ordered for you two after was just was as amazing as the food itself, the creamy dessert cooling against your throat and making your whole body tingle with joy

It also helped that Hawks was the best partner to eat, with his bizarre stories and crazy antics having you giggling between bites, sometimes making you forget to eat as you got sucked in to his crazy retellings.

You two had finally finished, your stomachs full and genuine smiles gracing your cheeks.

You sighed in content, a smile gracing your lips 

“The food was amazing Hawks, thank you-”

You had honestly never seen Hawks looks so domestic- he was sporting a simple white tee and dark jeans, a gold watch adorning his wrist. You guessed the hero had to always wear something somewhat flashy but still- it was strange to see him so casual. 

But you werent complaining- it made him more approachable and lovable in a way, making your dinner feel less like a meal between colleagues but between close friends.

You watched Hawks wave his hand, stopping your sentence in its tracks.

“Call me Keigo,” he interrupted, a playful grin plastered on his cheeks, “since I took you out to dinner, I think its only right for you to call me by my actual name,”

You gulped, your eyes wide with shock-the Hawks gave you permission to call him by his real name?

The fangrl in you wanted to scream and to jump up and down like an excited 12 year old. Thankfully, the practical side of you pushed those urges deep down, only the shock of his sentence riddling throughout your body

“Right uh- Keigo,” you gulped out, “-I definitely owe you one for showing me this place,”

“Your welcome angel, its my pleasure,”

You smiled softly, your lips pursed slightly from nervousness.

“Ya know,” you said, your tone soft and open. “you dont have to call me by my hero name either if you dont want to,” 

If he was being so welcoming with you, shouldn't you do the same? He had taken you to dinner after all, and even paid for you, even after you had insisted he didnt have to. Hawks-Keigo- was being so kind to you, you had to at least do something in return. 

“- you can call me by my real name,”

A hum rumbled from Hawk’s chest, his hand stroking his stubble chin.

“Thats true but the thing is- I like calling you angel”

He sent you a flirtatious smirk from across the table, making your heart stop beating in its tracks. Keigo was a piece of work to understand- one minute he was being supportive like a mentor would be to their student, and the next he was flirting with you like he was trying to pick up a girl at a bar. Was this really how he acted with everyone? Or just-you?

You cocked your head in confusion, your cheeks hot from his sentence.

“Why?”

He grinned, his sultry yellow eyes trained on yours.

“Its like Im calling you by a pet name, like ‘babe’ or ‘dove’,” he explained, taking a pause to place his words correctly,” but it's more...personal.”

That shit eating grin was evident on his face again, making him look boyish as he leaned in towards you.

“its also kinda cute when you get all flustered when I say it,”

Well-crap.

“I-I dont get flustered,” you stuttered, making your lie blatantly obvious.

The man chuckled, obviously loving every second of this.

“Then why are you blushing angel?” he taunted sweetly,

 “Don't think for a second I didn’t notice your little crush on me,”

Oh no.

This wasnt good.

God, you knew you blushed alot but- how dumb of you to not assume he knew you liked him! You wanted to crawl in a hole, to just dissolve into the ground and disappear.

“I dont have a crush on you- your just my mentor, your just helping me-” you denied his accusation, your voice desperate to prove it to him and yourself.

You didnt have feeling for this Hero, you couldnt, he was just someone who helped you, you shouldnt like him like this-

“Aww lets not lie to ourselves little dove, you dont have to be so defensive,” he was smiling at you so wide, as if he was being reassuring. But something was different about this smile, and the way he looked at you- it was so tender and almost-nervous?

“Why do you think I took you to this place? It wasnt just to get your mind off of training you know,”

You stared at him in complete confusion.

That was why he had taken you here right? To cheer you up-but then again, Keigo didn't have to do this. He could have just patted you on the back and said “Good job.” He didn't have to take you to his favorite restaurant, buy you a meal, and even dessert, and tell you all his most interesting and sometimes embarrassing stories. He didn't have to lend you his jacket that you were wearing right now after you said you were cold, or promise to drive you home once it was got dark. He didn't have to do any of these things-but he did.

“Wait- This-this is a date, isnt it?” you stated bluntly, the revelation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Keigo smiled timidly at you, the first time you had ever seen him look so nervous

“Only if you want it to be,” he chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant.

He sighed, clearly riddled with nerves as  his eyes staring down at his watch, trying to find the best words

“I-I know this is kinda sudden,” he finally said, “ and I should have told you straight before taking you here, but- I like you. Your fun ,and snarky, and so goddamn beautiful it makes my head spin. You make me smile so much, and I-I want to be with you.”

Hawks looked up at you, those bright hazel eyes staring at you with such love it took your breath away. You felt your whole body feel warmth, like honey was now flooding your veins. You honestly never imagined the hero to ever have feelings for you, but with this confession hanging in the air, you couldn’t feel happier.

“What do ya say, angel,” he asked, his hand stretching across the table and encasing yours, “ wanna give this a go?” 

You stared down at that hand, seeing his digits wrap so effortlessly around yours. It felt natural, yet exhilarating , a low, pleasant buzz forming from the small touch. It just felt-right.

“Sure,” you smiled, your fingers now curling around his, “ lets do it,”

Taggings (if you want to be added to the tag list, just shoot me an ask! Im also trying to work on an official tag list post, so you might see that soon! ) 

@weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

[tonystarktogo]

Last part of the time travel crack ‘verse for now (and sorry for making you all worry about the scepter, I didn’t mean it that way, it just seemed like a good cut-off point tbh):

"The scepter! Did anyone keep an eye on the scepter?"

"I assure you," Agent Agent, who looks a little singed and has a bandage wrapped around one ear, yet continues to rock the personality-free drawl that tricks people into thinking he’s not worth paying attention to, speaks up, "that the scepter is still safely in SHIELD custody, Dr. Banner."

Banner scoffs.

Rogers grimaces.

Barton winces.

And oh, all other issues aside, the vindication of this moment is glorious. Tony feels fully justified in the doubtful look he aims at the screen. You know your show sucks balls when even your own operative doesn’t buy what you’re selling.

"That’s great," Banner says in a painfully droll voice. "But I’ll feel a lot better when we hand it over to our resident Asgardian prince for safekeeping rather than put it into a secret high-security facility and hope for the best. Like the one you stored the Tesseract in took Loki what, five minutes to take over?"

Woah, talk about burn. Tony doesn’t bother muffling his snicker. Who’d have thought Banner has it in him?

[continues under the cut]

"Hang on, wouldn’t it be better—" Rogers interrupts before Fury or Coulson can come up with an excuse, which judging by their sour-slash-carefully-blank expressions isn’t as easy as they’d like it to be.

Banner raises one hand. It shouldn’t be a power move on part with his green counterpart squashing a car in his fist, isn’t even particularly aggressive but for some reason Rogers shuts up. Immediately. The bright, eerily green eyes might have something to do with it. 

"If you’re going where I think you’re going, I advise you to reconsider," Banner growls, the vocals deep enough that Romanoff reaches for the nearest weapon. "Even setting my personal issues aside, it’s not worth the risk."

Barton sighs with what sounds less like exhaustion and more like sad resignation. "Hate to say it, Cap, but he’s right. Sending the scepter off-Earth with the Tesseract is probably the safest course of action we can take right now. We can’t count on being that lucky again."

"Agent Barton," Agent Agent’s words drip with such a pointedly polite friendliness, it’s a wonder he doesn’t spear his own tongue on it. "Please desist in trying to hand off objects that pose an immediate threat to global security to an unvetted alien who, while a valued ally, is in line for the throne of a foreign world."

And wow. Tony’s not gonna win a prize for his sensitivity any time soon, but there’s some things you just don’t say to a guy who got brainwashed into doing an alien’s bidding less than forty-eight hours ago. Going by the way Romanoff has gone rigid, she agrees.

Luckily for everyone present, Barton doesn’t bat an eye at the dig. He leans forward instead, elbows placed on his tights, the picture of relaxation. As long as you ignore the expression on his face that could possibly pass for a smile. If you catch sight of it out of the corner of your eye. Through a dirty mirror. 

"Not that I’m not glad to see you alive and well, Phil, because I am. But getting my head rolled once was already one time too many and if the Tesseract is powerful enough to draw fucking aliens to it then it’s too fucking powerful for us to protect." Barton’s voice becomes progressively lower as he continues his little not-having-any-of-your-shit rant. "More people are gonna get killed over that thing. Good people. Because we don’t have the damn resources to keep it safe. So if we gotta bet on Asgard for this, then that’s what we’re gonna fucking do because to be frank with you sir I’d rather lead the hostile aliens to a world ready for interstellar warfare than my own."

Thor straightens from where he’s been fixated on Loki for the past hour or so, trying to crawl into his brother’s skull through willpower alone by the looks of it, and dips his head in Barton’s direction. "Thank you for your faith," he says gravely, as though Barton hasn’t straight up told everyone in this room he wants to use Asgard as a shield-slash-sacrificial-offering. "I hope my people will prove worthy of it."

"Should be fine." Banner shrugs with a nonchalance Tony envies. "’s long as we take care of your murderous sibling first."

Thor winces. Loki’s face loses whatever expressiveness it had left and it already was at state zero: emotions not welcome here to begin with. 

But. Tony tilts his head. Why not just call Loki by his name? Unless, of course, Banner isn’t referring to him. But how would the infamous Hulk-slash-brilliant-scientist have gotten himself wrapped up in alien family drama? And is there a form Tony can sign? Because he hates being kept out of the loop.

"Avengers!" Fury snaps before things can get any more awkward. Which, good for him, but in Tony’s fine opinion he should have taken the win and be done with it. There’s just no winning against whatever type of madness — not to mention feelings — these people are so inconsiderately spreading inside his walls. "You’re not bartering off our best chance to defend ourselves against alien invaders, have I made myself clear? That’s an order."

Rogers scoffs at the screen and damn it, Tony’s determined not to like the guy but the way he just smirks humorlessly as he stares Fury down, all aww shucks did you want the pretty, glowy thing too and well too damn bad for you makes it hard. Especially when Rogers goes that little extra mile and asks with a plain as day air of who fucking cares: "Whatever gave you the impression that this is a negotiation, Director Fury?"

It’s just too great a line to resist and Tony is only human. He makes a sharp gesture with his hand and JARVIS disconnects the call before they witness Fury pop a blood vessel. Let that be Agent’s problem for the time being.

"So," Tony states after a moment. "Besides all but declaring war on SHIELD, the organization two people in this room are officially employed by, for the record, and dealing with Reindeer Games over there, what’s the plan?"

Nervous shuffling. Awkward grins. Badly-hidden glances going back and forth. 

Perhaps most notably, nobody protests the declaring-war-on-SHIELD part. Tony would ask but frankly he’s still on his first glass of scotch — meaning way too fucking sober for whatever madness the answer to that question will undoubtedly raise. It’s a sad, sad day in the history of mankind when Tony is the voice of reason in a room filled with one-person-armies.

"What about Shawarma?" Rogers, apparently the most uncomfortable with the pressing silence, blurts out.

Tony gives that pitiful attempt to change the subject the nice try, have to admit I didn’t see that coming but you’re gonna have to give me more than that look it deserves. As it turns out though, he may have been overestimating his present company’s average ability to read a room.

"I could go for a bite," Barton pipes up, earning himself a soul-shriveling, dead-eyed, where the fuck did I go wrong with you and how have I not killed you yet stare, courtesy of Romanoff that he brushes off with admirable ease. Still not moving an inch away from her either and if Tony’s noticed the way her hand’s been edging ever closer to the knife strapped to her calf, there’s no way Barton hasn’t.

"Sounds good," Banner chimes in with a twisted amusement that makes Tony want to scratch his eyes out. "I know just to the place."

*

They do eat Shawarma together. [All of them, even Loki, because Thor insists his brother is far too thin. Considering Barton doesn’t protest and the only person Loki tries to stab with his salad fork is Thor himself, nobody comments on it.]

As if to add insult to a very long list of injuries that Tony is dying to poke and prod at, the food tastes delicious.

*

Okay so the whole antagonizing SHIELD thing wasn’t planned, but I figured in this AU there was no drawn out battle and no bomb and so there was no ‘thank fuck we’re even alive right now’ relief to take the edge of. Instead everyone is pissed off and frustrated (if for very different reasons) and not outright attacking the helicarrier right now is about all the diplomacy Steve has the patience for at this point.

[kpopmalereader]

make ; choi chanhee

• summary: you’re very friendly with all of the boys but they notice you getting shy and nervous around chanhee and figure out you have a crush on him • pairing: choi chanhee x male!reader • word count: 2517 • to do

You lean down, knocking the excess powder off the makeup brush. You hold Kevin’s chin with your pinky, steadying your brush against his eyes. You bring a fair amount of red eyeshadow from the center of his eyelids outwards, smoking and fading out the ends. You look at him for a second and nod, repeating the action on the other side. You add the slightest bit more red and blend it out.

You narrow your eyes and pull back, holding a mirror in front of Kevin’s face. He examines himself in the mirror. He tilts his head, looking at himself in different angles and lighting.

“It-”

Kevin’s words are drowned out by Chanhee walking into the room.

Your body stiffens as Chanhee shouts your name. Kevin notices your ears beginning to turn red but chalks it up to you being distracted. The brush feels foreign in your hands, and you put it down. You smile at Kevin and turn to Chanhee.

He stumbles slightly as he makes his way to you, smiling as he navigates through the mess. He smiles the whole way. “Hey! I was wondering if you could do my makeup for me? I like it when you do my makeup.”

You nod a bit too quickly at him, your smile growing. You have a strange mix of excitement and dread on your face as you turn around back to Kevin. “Let me finish with this, and I’ll do your makeup.”

Chanhee hugs your back quickly, and you choke on your breath. He runs off, yelling back at you. “You’re the best!”

Kevin almost thinks he can hear a squeak out of you as Chanhee crushes you. He raises an eyebrow, and you clear your throat. You lean down and examine the rest of his face makeup, tilting his chin so he can no longer make eye contact with you.

You finish up with Kevin’s face and let him out of the chair. You fidget with your hands for a second, stretching out your fingers. You clean off the makeup brush and tidy up your space. You calm yourself and attempt to eliminate your face and ears’ redness before you stand up fully.

Chanhee notices your free seat and hops over with a goofy smile. He points at the space, and you nod. He takes it and settles in, pulling his phone out to show you the picture. 

You look at it for a second. “I can do that.”

“Really?” He looks at you with full eyes. 

The blush you dissipated begins to return. You nod slowly and try to steady your hands. You pull out the black eyeliner, pretending to search for it to attempt nonchalance. You roll your shoulders back and lean down.

Chanhee’s eyes follow you, even as you get closer, and you find it difficult to concentrate. You shake your head and focus on drawing straight lines.

“Can you close your eyes for a moment?” 

Your voice is small when it would typically be boisterous and fun around the boys, which a few (including Kevin once more) take notice of.

You draw a curved line across his eyelid, winging out the eyeliner. You go over the lines to add a fuller look and step back, looking at him closely. He opens his eyes and looks up at you. He watches your face move. Your eyes are scrutinizing every aspect of it. You lock eyes and your heart rate picks up. Your face begins to flush, causing him to tilt his head to the side. You ignore it and lean back in, reaching for a light reddish-brown color. You place the stain lightly, dragging it along his bottom water-line.

He follows you, waiting for the nod of completion. He turns to look at himself, and you busy yourself with putting the rest of your brushes away, knowing you would openly gawk at him if you had the chance.

He poses in the mirror for a few seconds before breaking out in a small laugh. He nods and stands, ruffling your hair. “You’re the best! It’s perfect!”

You stutter over your gratitude, barely barking out the words “thank you.” He walks away. You take the moment of peace to lean forward on the chair. You scratch at your neck and begin packing up your things. Changmin walks up to you. He raises an eyebrow at your movements, so you smile at him and feign ignorance. He rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know why you are doing that.” You start. “And I do not want to know.”

He doesn’t shift his expression, a raised eyebrow look you don’t like much. “Why-”

You repeat. “I don’t want to know.”

He switches tactics suddenly. It almost knocks you off your feet. “Are we friends?”

“Yeah- Yes?”

He waits. “Are you and Chanhee friends?”

You look around. Your eyes finally settle on your workspace, too long after Changmin asked the question. You finally begin to nod. “Yeah, Chanhee and I are friends.”

“Then why do you look at him like that?”

“I don’t look at him like anything.” You stop him before he says anything else and shrug your shoulders. You zip up your crate and smile. “Have fun with your performance. I have to go.”

Everyone yells bye to you, and you wave at them. Chanhee jumps up before you can get to the door. You startle slightly and look at him, blinking twice.

“Thank you for the makeup today. I appreciate it.”

*

“He’s here!” Jacob turns his head and yells through the apartment before greeting you at the door. He smiles and waves you inside.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your bag. You watch as he rushes into the living room. You follow him slowly, apprehensive. Hyunjae is the first you notice as you walk into the living room. He can’t, or doesn’t, hide the weird smile he gets on his face and the glances between you and Chanhee. You watch him for a second and shake your head, willing him to stop whatever it is that he’s beginning.

Kevin is the next to get your attention, a confident smirk over his face. He stands and looks at the clock. He moves to stare at you, amusement bubbling in his eyes. “Since you’re here and we want to hang out for a while, we figured we could get some food.”

“Oh, I’ll go!” Changmin volunteers first, giggling at you as he passes to the door.

The rest of the boys follow in suit, offering their services to pick up food. Soon the only ones left in the room with you are Sangyeon, Eric, and Chanhee. You glare at Kevin, trying to grab his wrist as he passes.

“I have to keep my word. I already said I would go.” 

Sangyeon and Eric look at each other. Suddenly, they nod at the same time and stand together. They mumble different things they need to do and walk out of the room simultaneously.

Sangyeon winks at you, almost running himself into the wall after he turns around.

You roll your eyes at them and look over at Chanhee, who’s now decided it’s the perfect time to look at you with the prettiest expression you’ve ever seen. You smile, nervousness seeping out of your pores. He sits with one of his headphones in, tapping the side of his phone.

“Have fun!” Kevin calls out before a bedroom door slams shut.

You look around for a second and sit down on the couch. You sit on one of your hands, trying to stifle the shaking you know will occur if you don’t. Chanhee pulls his headphones out and draws himself closer.

“Do you-” You sigh and pause. “Do you know why I was invited over here today?”

Chanhee shrugs his shoulders. He looks at you with an expression spelling out innocence. “We wanted to hang out with you. We don’t get to see you outside of work often.”

You nod and clear your throat. “Right, right.”

He stands up and moves along the couch, finding a seat next to you. He smiles and looks down, watching your hands pick at the seams of your jeans. “Why did you think you were invited?”

“I didn’t know. I was just wondering if Kevin was getting at something.”

“Why would he do that?”

You look up at him and shake your head. “He does things like that sometimes.”

Chanhee nods his head and taps the back of his phone. He pokes at his leg, not broaching the silent territory. His voice stops in his throat, halts before he can get the question out, and he changes his mind.

“What’s your favorite color?” His eyes are shining. 

Your heart stops in your chest before picking up in double time. The question doesn’t make sense in your head. “What?”

He smiles and repeats himself. “What’s your favorite color? I thought it was yellow, but I didn’t know if that’s what it was. Do you like yellow?”

You turn towards him, the slightest smile creeping on your face. You pull at your fingers. “Yeah... I didn’t know you knew that about me.”

Chanhee shrugs. “I know we’re not as close as you and Kevin or some of the others, but I listen when you speak. I like hearing your opinions and your stories. I like your laugh and your smile too.”

You giggle slightly before calming yourself. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t think anyone noticed those things about me. I don’t remember ever saying what I liked the color.”

“You did. I don’t remember who’s makeup you were doing. I really couldn’t focus on anything other than you.” He pauses for a second in his retelling, taking a long look at your increasingly more red cheeks. “But anyway, you said you liked certain colors more than others. You talked about color combinations and said you liked every combination that had yellow in it even if other people thought they were ugly.”

You furrow your eyebrows, not remembering any of that conversation.

“And you have this yellow shirt. It’s just a plain yellow shirt, but you wear it so often. It’s a good shirt. I know you’re hesitant to say it’s your favorite color, but it’s the color of your favorite shirt.” He nods his head and smiles, thinking up random facts and stories you don’t know of. “It’s also the most used color in all of your makeup.”

You blush darker. The color travels up your cheekbones and to your ears. “I like all colors.”

He smiles and looks in your eyes. “I like all colors too.”

You try to look in his eyes but, in the moment, you can’t stand being so close to him for much longer. You pinch your arm lightly and look down. The feeling of his eyes trailed on your face feels hot. Hot and overwhelming.

“Do you- Do you like Kevin more than you like the rest of us?”

“What? No, no.” You laugh and shake your head. You scrunch your nose up at the thought of it.

Chanhee leans ever-so-closer, probably not much to him, not much to the world, but your heart beats faster and faster, jumping further and further up your chest into your throat. The air around you feels heavy. It’s dense and makes you droop your shoulders.

“Do you not like Kevin more in the same way you don’t like yellow more?”

“No.” You shake your head immediately. “I don’t like Kevin like that.”

Chanhee finally stops looking at you. He looks forward, not long enough for you to calm yourself, before he gazes back at you. “Do you like anyone like that?”

You clear your throat, hoping the red on your face isn’t too noticeable but knowing it is. “Yeah? I don’t know.”

“Really?” Chanhee lights up and smiles. “Who? Are they nice? Do they... like the color yellow?”

You smile, the beginnings of a laugh bubbling in your chest, and you nod. “Yeah, they’re nice. They-”

You roll your eyes at yourself before you even say the next sentence.

“They remind me of the color yellow. Bright, happy, endlessly comforting. He’s-”

“He?” Chanhee asks.

It almost sounds hopeful. If you were anyone else, if he was anyone else, you’re sure it wouldn’t, and you’re aware you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You tell yourself it’s only the shock. You tell yourself these things but know you don’t believe them.

“He.” You answer. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No! No, it’s not. It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t know. So, color yellow?”

You laugh at yourself and lean back, shaking your head. “Yeah. It’s stupid. It’s stupid, but he is. I like him, though he doesn’t know how much.”

He stops. He turns forward and holds. He squints at the wall in front of him.

“I...” He begins to speak slowly. Too slowly for your liking. “I hope the “he” you like, the personification of the color yellow, the one that makes you get the distant look and beautiful smile on your face, I hope that’s me.”

Your brain computes slower than ever. Your mind can’t take in the meaning of his words, and he waits. He waits, patient, with a worried yet calm look on his face. You finally shake your brain into functioning and lean forward.

You whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Are you- Did Kevin put you up to this?”

Chanhee shakes his head. He holds your knee. “I’m not lying; it’s not a joke. I want the person that you’re blushing about to be me. So, I ask you, is it me? Could it ever be me?”

“It is you.” You breathe out the words. Not a whisper but nothing above it. “It is you. You’re the person that reminds me of the color yellow. You’re the reason eight people went to pick up food, and two others ran away so they could force me into a room alone with you without handcuffing me. You’re the reason every time I look at you or talk to you or do your makeup, they stand and giggle and gawk.”

He leans forward, the beginnings of a bright and confident but still nervous smile forming. He speaks at the same level as you. “Kevin has been badgering me for a week about talking to you. I may or may not have confessed everything I felt for you and told him I wouldn’t blame him if you had feelings for him instead of me.”

You and Chanhee nod simultaneously before he continues.

“He laughed.”

“He laughed at me when I told him I was scared to tell you. He said it would be easy.” You shake your head and smile at him. You start to laugh, and Chanhee’s smile grows next to yours.  “I guess it was pretty easy. Though I think it was only because you said it was first.”

He leans back. He pauses, giving you the last few moments of peace before he asks. “You think I’m the color yellow?”

[little-mad]

Ummm #21 from the dialogue prompt with Tara & Lane??

“Well, aren’t you fascinating”

From this list of prompts here

This was fun. If anyone has any other prompts, feel free to send them my way.

____________________________________________________________

Tara watched Thomas’s retreating figure until it disappeared into the distance. She never would have imagined she could enjoy their border-side meetings so much. At first, she’d only very hesitantly agreed to take part out of some strange curiosity. But now, she actually found herself looking forward to seeing her giant acquaintance. 

Blowing out cheerful huff of air, Tara was turning to head back to town when she began to feel tremors rumbling the earth. They were the same kind of tremors that heralded Thomas’s arrivals and departures. However, the footsteps did not belong to Thomas. 

Eyes as wide as saucers, Tara stood frozen in place, staring as none other than Thomas’s best friend emerged from behind a clump of trees on the other side of the border. Lane’s gaze immediately fell upon the human. He had a sour look on his face, as if he was looking at an irritating insect that wouldn’t stop buzzing in front of his face. 

Tara instinctively took a step back. Though she knew giants never crossed over the border into human territory, she couldn’t help but feel as though she needed to put distance between herself and the man that had tried so hard to devour her. 

“Thomas told me he had been meeting with you,” Lane began as he stepped closer to the edge of giant territory, “but it was still so bizarre to witness.” Were she not so anxious due to the giant’s presence, Tara might have felt embarrassed that her conversation with Thomas had been overheard. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Tara demanded, mentally cursing herself for the weakness in her voice. 

A low chuckle came from Lane as he stopped his approach a few feet away from the creek that separated human and giant land. “I suppose it must have been morbid curiosity,” he said with a slight shrug. 

Tara narrowed her eyes at the giant. She didn’t trust him in the slightest, and the fact that he was sneaking behind his best friend’s back seemed to only prove her point. However, according to Thomas himself, Lane had started to get “slightly more receptive” to the idea of seeing humans as people rather than simply prey. Still, that wasn’t exactly all that assuring to Tara. “I hope you don’t intend to try to eat me again,” she warned. 

Lane smirked. “Don’t tempt me.” Tara scowled and forced herself to stay in place rather than retreating backwards as her instincts were urging her to do. When it was obvious she wasn’t going to say anything in response, Lane sighed. “It’s not like I can cross the border,” he stated with an eye roll. “And besides, Thomas would kill me if he ever found out I ate his precious little human friend.” He said the words like they were almost painful to get out. He clearly still couldn’t comprehend the idea of a giant and human being friendly with one another. 

“So, what? You’re just here for a friendly chat?” Tara shot back, arms folded over her chest firmly. 

For a moment, Lane just glared down at the human. It almost seemed like he didn’t know the answer to the question, like he had shown up without a real purpose in mind. Finally he said, “I’m just trying to figure out what it is about you that made my friend lose his mind.” 

It was Tara’s turn to roll her eyes. Thomas had told her a little bit about what he’d been hearing from Lane ever since that day. Apparently it was a lot of insisting from Lane that Thomas was insane or that his hunting instincts were broken somehow. Sometimes Tara would ask Thomas why he even bothered to put up with the guy anymore. Thomas would always remind her that Lane hadn’t told another soul about Tara and that he had never expressed a desire to end their friendship though they so strongly disagreed on the topic of humans. It was clear that Thomas believed there was some good in his best friend. Maybe Tara owed it to the guy to give Lane a chance?

She released a heavy sigh. “Listen, I’m not in the mood for a fight right now. If you want to have a civil conversation, I’m willing to hear you out.” Truthfully, she really wanted to turn tail and run home. However, whether she liked it or not, she’d somehow become humanity’s unofficial ambassador. Thomas was proof that giants could be reasonable. As much as she hated to admit it, Tara was pretty sure she would regret it if she didn’t at least attempt to bridge the gap with Lane. 

The giant’s light eyebrows rose and he looked down at Tara as if he were studying her. She wasn’t exactly fond of the scrutiny, but she supposed it was an improvement from the look of distaste she’d been getting earlier. “Well, aren’t you fascinating,” Lane remarked dryly. “A human that wants to befriend giants.”

Tara scoffed, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I never said I wanted to be your friend.” 

Air rushed past her as Lane suddenly dropped into a crouch. After meeting with Thomas as many times as she had, Tara had become slightly more accustomed to the intimidatingly massive movements of giants. However, seeing the way Lane moved, she began to realize that Thomas may have been toning down his motions for her benefit. 

“Good, because giants have no business making friends with their food,” Lane sneered. The same glint of hunger was in his eyes as the last time they’d met. It was obvious to Tara that he was itching to snatch her up and gobble her whole.

Lips pressed firmly together, Tara stared the blond giant down. She knew he wanted to provoke a reaction from her, though she didn’t know what he hoped to achieve in doing so. Perhaps he deemed it his duty to “put her in her place.” Either way, Tara wasn’t about to let his words get to her. “If that’s all you wanted to say to me, there are other things I could be doing,” she stated, though didn’t make to leave just yet. 

Lane snorted, “Have to get back to the cave you live in, huh?” 

Tara’s eyes narrowed. Thomas had told her that he’d informed Lane that humans did not in fact dwell in caves like barbarians as giant textbooks claimed. Evidently the information hadn’t sunk in.  “I don’t live in a cave, I live in a house in a town,” she corrected, her voice tight with restrained irritation. 

“That’s what Thomas said, but I don’t buy it,” Lane responded. He wore an amused look on his face, as if the mere idea that humans could be advanced enough to live in towns was funny.

It was clear that Lane was completely taken over by the propaganda giants had developed to paint humans in an inferior light. Unlike Thomas, he was unwilling to accept new information and quite adamant about clinging onto his preconceived notions. “Believe whatever you want,” Tara said with a dismissive hand wave. “Thomas described you as being scholarly, clearly he was mistaken.” 

An angry frown formed on Lane’s face at Tara’s statement. “What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned sharply. 

Tara suppressed a smirk as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “Well a real scholar would get their information from a primary source,” she told him. “You seem to base all your human knowledge on outdated secondary sources.”

During their last encounter, appealing to Lane’s morality hadn’t been especially effective. His sense of right and wrong was totally warped by brainwashing. And so, Tara decided it would be best to use the giant’s logical side against him.

With a scowl on his face, Lane shifted his weight so he now had one knee on the ground. “You’re not a reliable source, chances are you’re lying to try and make humanity seem less pathetic.” 

Tara shook her head. The guy had some real trust issues when it came to humans. She didn’t see how he had any business being wary of humans when humans had only ever been giants’ victims. 

“How about this then, next time Thomas comes to visit, you come with him,” she started. Lane opened his mouth to argue but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’ll bring with me something that undeniably proves how advanced humans are.” She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d bring. The first thing that came to her mind was a rifle, but her town had so few and they were only meant to be used in case of an emergency so she doubted she’d be allowed to borrow one. Maybe a book created using the printing press her town had gotten a few years back would do.

Lane looked skeptical. Tara had a feeling he didn’t like the idea of doing something that a human suggested. At the same time, if he refused it would be akin to turning away from a challenge. Lane definitely seemed like the competitive type. “Fine, but I’m sure you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself,” he relented.

Without bothering with a goodbye, Lane stood up and withdrew back into the depths of giant territory. Tara couldn’t help the smug smile that grew on her face as she watched him walk away.

[nancywheelxr]

For Sokka/Zuko prompts: falling in love + fighting non-bender style

hey, anon, i love you and i hope you like this <3

*

“Come spar with me,” Sokka says, just like that. The sun is setting in the sky and Katara’s food is beginning to stir Momo from his nap, and a few feet away Zuko can see Suki attempting to teach Aang a very basic fighting stance while Toph laughs. 

It still doesn’t explain why Sokka is still there, looking at Zuko like Zuko is the insane one for being doubtful. “Why?”

Sokka flails. “Why– because! Because I’m bored! Because I want to! Because– I don’t know, Zuko, why does anyone do anything?”

“You do realize you would lose, right?” He says instead of trying to parse through his reasons. Only Sokka knows how his mind works and after the awful days spent in the prison, Zuko’s learned it’s no use trying to follow his logic. 

“Excuse me!” Sokka gasps, offended in a way that shows on his whole face, “I’ll have you know, I’ve been trained by a master in the arts! I’ve got a space sword!”

He wonders how liberally the word trained is being used. “Still.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Sokka sharpens in a smirk, arms crossing over his chest, and Zuko watches amused, a little disconcerted at the whiplash between expressions. “You’re scared you’re gonna lose. That’s okay, I get it, I’d be too if I were you.”

It’s not that Zuko doesn’t know he’s being played, he knows, but the challenge is still out there, in the air, and he has never been good at standing down. Sokka’s got him there and he knows it and Zuko knows it and probably even Katara, wherever she is, knows it too. “Fine,” he snaps, scowling because otherwise he’d be smiling and Zuko’s never been very good at that either. At least he thinks so, it’s been a long time, he can’t remember, anyway. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sokka laughs. “Famous last words.”

*

A friendly spar is not something Zuko remembers doing. Training, yes, or showing off when he thought his father might be looking, or the thing Azula did where sometimes she would tackle him and they would wrestle and pretend it’s not meant to hurt, but not this, not until now.

But it’s nice, too, and it burns off the restlessness that’s settled ever since they left the Boiling Rock, and Zuko aches to think he’d been trying to destroy this sort of thing only weeks ago. His sword clashes with Sokka’s and they glint silver in the rising moon. 

Sokka grins.

In the moonlight, he glows, and Zuko thinks of the boy with war paint on his face standing as tall as he could in the way of a warship, and something in his chest twists and aches again– it’s been a long road to here, but he sees the ocean on Sokka’s eyes just as clear as they had reflected the waves that day. “Tired yet?”

Yes, Zuko wants to say, frighteningly so. “Not a chance,” he replies instead because that’s not what’s been asked, and presses harder, hits him in the ribs hilt-first, smirks like he’s learned.

And so it goes, steady like clockwork.

*

“You know,” Sokka says the next night, “this place is pretty neat, huh?”

Zuko, who knows this temple by heart already from patrolling every night before sleep in the first week, figures neat is probably the understatement of the century. “You could say that.”

“It’s at least on the top three places we camped,” he continues, pushing further on his attacks and forcing Zuko to pull back in defense. Then, his face softens a little, eyes darting fleetingly up at the moon and around the clearing, and this sort of vulnerability, of distraction, is the perfect moment to make his move, but for some reason, Zuko can’t bring himself to do it. Sokka grins ruefully and the whole world goes a little dizzy, “it kind of makes you wish we could stay here forever, doesn’t it?”

Feeling oddly off-tilt, he shrugs, distracted. “I guess,” he shakes his head, hopes to clear it with the whiplash.

Sokka rolls his eyes, lowering his sword. “Well, no need to sound so excited, jeez, I was just saying.”

“Sorry,” Zuko blinks, watches the muscles on his arms work as he reaches for his canteen, watches water spill down his chin, the curve of his neck, and disappear under his shirt. Right. It’s definitely time for a break. 

His own water does little to his dry mouth and it’s only when he tries to nudge their lanterns just a bit brighter but finds the flames flaring up higher, that he notices the racing of his heart hasn’t faded yet. Sokka smiles, and says something about their itinerary, and Zuko listens, and listens, and listens.

*

The Western Air Temple is left behind and it feels awfully final, Sozin’s Comet a hanging threat on the horizon. It won’t be long now.

Zuko sits on Appa’s back and watches Sokka, head bent over a map with his sister, the rising sun painting his skin. At his side, Toph makes a startled noise. “Really, Sparky?”

“What?” He frowns, dragging his eyes away to find her looking at him strangely. His face warms and his hands close into fists, even if he’s not sure why. Half of him kind of hopes Toph tells him, but the other half is terrified of the answer.

She shakes her head, makes a face up at him. “Nothing, just thought you should know– you’re so not subtle.”

It’s not like she’s wrong, but Zuko would still rather know what he’s letting show on his face now. Fear? Sorrow? Anger? 

It doesn’t matter, in the end.

It won’t be long now.

*

After his coronation, it takes Sokka three days to find him in his study, table littered with reports and law texts, an insurmountable mountain of things he must fix, must change, to even begin thinking of reparations. 

“How did you get past my guards?” He asks without looking up from the scroll in his hands. The candle by his elbow flickers, throwing golden shadows across the paper.

Sokka is smiling, Zuko can tell even while turned away, and there’s the rustle of his brushes being shuffled away from the edge as he leans against the table. “I’m like, a war hero now. It gets me places.”

“Suki let you in, then,” Zuko finally allows himself to roll up the scroll, tilt his head up for once to talk with him, and grins. He was right, Sokka is smiling, easy and malleable.

“Like I said, it gets me places,” he shrugs, kicks the leg of his chair, falling serious, “hey, she also said you’ve been here a while.”

Zuko sighs, feeling the exhaustion snaking around his bones, the tight aching on his chest from the branching scar Azula’s lightning left, the unsigned paperwork he left in his quarters this morning. “There’s a lot to do,” he says truthfully.

“Yeah, no shit, but it doesn’t have to be done in a day,” Sokka rolls his eyes, kicks his chair a little harder. There’s a crinkle between his brows and it’s very distracting, it makes Zuko want to reach out and smooth it away, trace the lines until they faded back to someplace peaceful. “And you don’t have to do it all alone either, dumbass. Come on, you need to relax before you combust in one big fireball of stress.”

“I can’t,” he rubs at his eyes, willing the weariness to settle back, and closes them for a second– inhale, exhale. “There’s too much– negotiations will begin soon, they’re sending ambassadors– and the school curriculum, it needs to be revised– and, and–”

“Zuko,” Sokka says, and his voice arrests Zuko’s focus impossibly. Zuko really wishes it didn’t because now he has to look at Sokka, give him his full attention, and it’s overwhelming. The moon is backlighting his figure and Zuko never noticed how much the blue of his clothes, his eyes, stand out in the red and gold of the palace. It makes Zuko’s lungs hiccup and his heart constrict painfully, a warm ache blooming just behind his sternum– a summer tide, heating up his skin against the night chill, and even before he asks, Zuko knows he would give him anything, there’s no choice for him. “Come spar with me?”

Zuko puts out his candle. “Yeah, okay.”

*

“I gotta say,” Sokka says, sword steady on his hands, “this place is a hell of a lot better than that clearing at the temple.”

The practice room has a mat to break their falls without leaving scraped skin behind, at least, and practice swords blunt enough they don’t have to worry about accidentally losing a limb. “The view isn’t all that great, though.”

Something shifts in Sokka’s eyes, softer and warmer. “I don’t know,” he shrugs with painfully fake nonchalance, “it looks pretty great to me.”

There’s a flush rising to his cheeks and Zuko doesn’t understand why for a second, but looks behind his shoulder at the closed doors, frowning, because this sounds like Sokka’s strangely smooth awkward flirting he’s witnessed. “I don’t think Suki can hear you from here,” he feels the need to point out, speaking around the sudden catch on his throat, “and the door’s closed anyway.”

Sokka chokes. “That’s not– I didn’t– what–” a pause as he seems to gather himself, “I didn’t mean Suki. Why would I mean Suki? She’d probably kick my ass for a comment like that, anyway.”

Zuko frowns. “Because she’s your girlfriend?”

Another round of startled coughing. It’s a really good thing those swords are blunt, after all. “We broke up, like, ages ago? After, you know, the comet and everything. It put things into perspective or something, I dunno. It was different, with no war or anything, when it was just us hanging out.”

“Oh,” Zuko clears his throat, something odd fluttering around his chest, and tries to think if there was something different about Suki in the past few days. He doesn’t think so? It’s hard to tell, he’s been busy and she always smiled when she saw him– it did feel like her eyes had grown a little more knowing lately, though, like she knew something he didn’t, but that could probably be his lack of sleep talking. “I’m sorry?”

Sokka snorts. “No that’s rough, buddy, this time?” but before Zuko could apologize for that too, he waves him off, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I think we just realized we loved each other better as friends. Maybe the fact that both of us are fine is a sign breaking up really was the right thing.”

“Like Mai and I,” he nods, understanding. Being with Mai had been nice, safe and comforting, but when she had taken his hand and told him she would be leaving with Ty Lee, Zuko hadn’t been heartbroken. Mai had smiled, a small pretty thing, and hugged him, face buried on the curve of his neck, and he misses her dearly, but loving someone doesn’t necessarily mean being in love with someone. 

“Yeah,” Sokka twists his sword on his hand, eyes following the arc it makes in the air, and his smile comes in gentle waves, washing over Zuko with its cheeriness. “Now come on, quit stalling– I’m so kicking your ass this time.”

With a sinking dread, Zuko refuses to acknowledge the realization just beyond his fingertips, curling his hands around the hilt of his dao blades fiercely, and ignores the gentle smoke wafting from his palms.

*

Denial doesn’t take him too far, unsurprisingly. His feelings for Sokka have been building without his knowing, a spring that’s grown into a river spilling into the ocean, stretching in all directions, far beyond the horizon line. 

It’s far too late to try and contain now.

Instead, Zuko will just have to learn to carry that around too, board it up away from the light, careful not to let any of it tumble out in the open. In the past, he’s never been very good at keeping his emotions in check, but since the Sun Warriors, he thinks he might be improving a little.

Not that Sokka makes it anywhere easy for him. So far, none of them have left, on the contrary– Katara has taken upon herself to boss the healers around while the injured are slowly trickling in from all over the countries, Aang and Toph have ingrained themselves in every one of his meetings since no one has dared to question their presence yet, and Sokka– well. Sokka seems to be everywhere these days.

Sure, Zuko knows they won’t stay forever, they all have a home to go back to, families to return to, but for now, well.

“Dude, wanna see how many fire flakes I can fit in my mouth?”

For now, there’s Zuko watching Sokka sit by his window, basking in Agni’s light and smiling at him while digging into the flake bowl even though he knows the spice will burn his tongue. “I’m guessing around two before you start crying?”

“It’s not that bad,” Sokka glares, but it’s mellow and gentle, late-afternoon lazy, and Zuko has to forcefully remind himself not to stare. “Yeah, no, okay, it’s bad, it’s bad!”

He pushes the milk he had nicked from the kitchens earlier just in case something like this happened towards him, snickering like he’s not hopelessly endeared. “I did warn you.”

Sokka glowers. “Shut up, I’m building up a resistance.”

“If you say so,” Zuko allows, knowing it will rile him up and make him flush, probably go into a rant, and hides his own smile. Affection bubbles on his chest, I know you, he thinks, I know you by heart.

Predictably, Sokka pushes off his seat, crowding on Zuko to tell him exactly where he could shove his condescension, and Zuko twists on his own chair to face him, an eyebrow raised. It doesn’t slow Sokka down, though, if anything, it inflames him further, makes him take another step forward, slip between his legs to poke at his chest.

“ – and, and,” Sokka trails off, looking down at where his legs have bumped on the chair, and seeming to finally notice how very close they had gravitated. Zuko shifts and his knees graze Sokka’s pants, and his skin seems to burn even through the cloth. Swallowing thickly, he risks looking up, shakily trying to keep a blank expression and feeling the ocean raging around his ribs. Sokka’s eyes are wide and blue, a gentle wave crashing on the sand, and any words die on his tongue. “So, uh.”

He hums questioningly, one hand clinging to the table edge, undoubtedly leaving soot burned handprints behind.

“I, erm, forgot what I was going to say,” Sokka admits quietly, and Zuko wants to think his gaze has slipped down to his mouth for half a second there, but it’s very hard to think when they’re close like this and if neither of them moves soon, he fears his chest might crack open like ice, spilling his love all over the floor, heart falling at their feet, bruised and stitched up as it is. “Hey,” he nudges his knee.

Zuko burns. “Hi?”

“I think– I think I’m gonna do something real stupid right now,” he says, “and I’m really hoping you won’t hate me for this later.”

There’s no hating you, Zuko wants to say, because he’s been falling since, perhaps, the South Pole, and by now, there’s no stopping. His feelings are an ocean and Zuko’ll drown in them.

Sokka doesn’t want a reply, though. He exhales shakily and suddenly, his hands are on Zuko’s cheeks and Sokka is leaning down, kissing Zuko. Lightning sizzles inside him and you don’t stare at the sun, so Zuko closes his eyes, hands closing on Sokka’s waist to draw him closer, feeling like he might die from this, would gladly die for this. 

“Hey,” Sokka says again, pulling away, and Zuko chases him that inch, a pull and push of tides, and there’s breathlessness in the air they share, “so, no hating, uh.”

Zuko touches skin under his shirt and feels Sokka shiver under his hands. “What do you think,” he murmurs, so painfully fond that his whole self aches with it, “I love you, dumbass.”

Sokka laughs, light and bright, like sea foam, and kisses him again, and again, and again, like he knows Zuko has been walking around with all these impossible wantings inside him and now there’s a hollowness that leaves him afraid he might float up if untethered. Like he knows Zuko’s never thought he’d get to have this, to be this happy. “You’re such a jerk,” he says, “I love you too,” a kiss, a hand tangling on his hair, his heart, bursting, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass (Part 2)

There is a part 3 coming, I think these two deserve the...culmination, but I wasn’t sure if I could have it ready soon enough. Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy! x

Part 1   -   Part 3*

It starts with a resounding bang. A back curving over maple hardwood; taut muscle stretching soft cotton fabric; twin jades squinted in concentration; a shoulder blade protruding briefly for one swift determining movement. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange phenolic resin scattering across green worsted wool like a dozen pinballs simultaneously kicked in various directions.

It ends with the deep echo. A ball falling into emptiness before meeting rock-bottom; the release of a soft withheld breath; firm flesh unflexing with satisfaction; two sets of glossy eyes meeting in a knowing look. "Nice break, Styles. Stripes it is," y/n happily comments once Harry leans back from the pool table.

Gibson’s is full of rowdy chatters, tipsy laughs and fulsome smiles. Strangers bonding for a night of undiluted carefreeness, clicking drinks after merry drinks in honor to their new ephemeral best friends. All sorrows have been forsaken on the coat rack at the entrance,  hung in insouciance, leaving nothing but good spirits to sit at the tables and loiter near the bar. Everything about this place is warm and nurturing, a cosy embrace after a tedious day, a home for the people that lets them nurse bottles and wounds alike, and sees them leave later on, cheerful, relaxed and healing. It took but a second for Harry to understand why y/n is so fond of the place and he was not surprised to find her on a first-name basis with the barmaid, the two of them catching up on life while she was preparing the drinks.

Now, fifteen minutes in, they’ve happily made their way to the vacant timeworn pool table at a secluded corner of the bar, drinks and grins in toe. The space is only lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting daedal shadows along the walls and across the table’s carpeted surface. The subdued light and music crooning in the background make for a suggestive atmosphere, air thick with limitless curiosity and enticing promises.

The corner of Harry’s lips quirks in a wry smile and a bold glint takes residence at the crease of his eyes; the telltale sign of a burgeoning idea brewing up in his cheeky mind. "What’dya say we make this a lil more interesting?" The offer is served with a raised brow, a hand on his waist, and one foot perched on its toes over the other as he leans against the cue.

From across the pool table, y/n is quite endeared at the sight but her response comes out in fake offense,"oh I’m sorry, am I boring you already?"

"Quite the opposite actually." His head tilts the slightest bit to the side, gaze unwavering from her face in a mission for persuasion.

Her lips grimace as she tries to suppress a betraying smile to no avail, "fine, I’m listening."

He grins victoriously at her inability to keep a straight face, his limbs dislodging from his casual pose. "We take turns," his motions at the space between them. "F’we pocket, we get to ask one question. No bullshit answer, jus’ the truth." His eyes are wide as he gauges her response.

"A question, huh?" she takes her time to contemplate the proposition just to watch him squirm in impatience. "Damn, for a sec I thought you were about to suggest strip-pool." She sends him a playful look as she walks the length of the table to step closer to him and have a better look at his chiseled features.

"I mean, m’totally down but might be a bit unfair on your part," his eyes briefly trail down her body in silent conveyance of her single-piece attire. He’s got much more material to shed before exposing skin than she does.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." The suggestive retort has Harry’s stomach churn with humid passion, the question of just how many layers she’s wearing exactly, playing with the most lascivious parts of his brain. "Not that it matters, you’d be butt-naked before you’d get a nip-slip."

"Overestimating yourself?"

"Just giving you fair warning," she shrugs in nonchalance running her fingers along the edge of the table, "so you know what you’re getting yourself into."

When she lifts her head back to connect their gaze again, she finds him biting at his bottom lip to contain his signature smirk, "no worries there, darlin’. M’all willing." He almost punctuates his retort with a salacious wink but decides to save it for a more opportune time. Something tells him he’s in for a long evening, not that it’s any cause for concern. Like he said, he is very much consenting to anything her heart desires to do to him.

"Good to know." Y/n quips back with a smile before leaning on her hand resting upon the pool table. "What’s your question then?"

For a moment, Harry forgets he just broke the rack and successfully sent a plain purple ball in one of the table’s pocket, taking him one step closer to victory and granting him one question as per his own proposition. He quickly gathers his reeling thoughts before settling on an easy inquiry, fingers fiddling with the desire to sketch every bit of her character. "Right um, do you have other hobbies besides playin- or should I say, winning pool?"

She wants to slap- or should she say, kiss the smug look off his lovely face, but her answers airs in the same level tone she employs at work, "yes I do."

It’s not enough for Harry’s archeologic curiosity though. He’s barely dusted off the ground beneath his feet to reveal the hint of new groundbreaking findings; armed with sieves and brushes, he is eager to dig a little further, "and what might those be?"

However, y/n is quick to rebuff him, "uh uh, that’s two questions."

Indignation soars through his straightened posture, as he cries out a faint ’what? no!’ and her own ego grows two size at her cunning deceit, "gotta up your game if you wanna keep that perky bum intact, Styles."

Earlier words resonate in the confines of his outfoxed mind then, you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and he tries really hard not to think about the promise following them. Instead he counterattacks in obvious diversion tactic, "that’s twice you’ve mentioned my ass in the past 5 minutes, perhaps I should read into it?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," she lithely deflects as she grabs her own cue with a determined look etched upon her face, "my turn now."

With powerful strides, y/n navigates around the table to position herself at the most promising angle for a score of her own. Once she has both her target and the cue ball in firing line, she tunes out every last bit of stimulus encompassing her; the muffled sound of the music, the sticky oxygen filling up her lungs with sensual tension, the charming presence of the beau intently ogling her every move.

It barely takes her a couple seconds of intense concentration before a sharp thump is bouncing off the table and piercing through the air. The shot is so accurate, clean-cut, vigorous yet graceful and elegant all out once, Harry finds himself mesmerized by her skills more than the subtle form curving out from her bent posture.

The satisfaction is evident in her traits as she straightens up to face him, a pleased rictus forming at her lips. She doesn’t let any suspense unfurl before she cashes in her prize, "so what’s up with the muffin deliveries? You a stress-baker or summat?"

It’s a puzzle that’s been boggling her mind for while now; ever since the first time she watched him gallivanting around the office, handing out kindness and freshly baked goods for the small price of a friendly smile; it’d been a reoccurring thing ever since. The recollection has Harry’s cheeks warm up to a bashful shade of vermillion at the thought of admitting the reason behind his action: he’d bake a basketful of cakes just so he could give her one without exposing himself. Being straight forward with his infatuation may have been unfeasible at the time, but there was nothing against inconspicuously indulging the sweet tooth he knew she had, right?

"I dunno, just like seein' people smile, and everyone likes a good muffin, right?" His answer teeters on the ledge between veracity and evasion, the genuine ‘they were all for you’ being replaced by a less naked truth.

Y/n nods at his answer and waits until he is about to aim for another shot to voice her musings out loud, "mmm, they are quite delicious." Her attempt to distract him turns fruitful when his ears perks at her sultry voice right as he pointedly knocks the white ball with his cue. It’s off by an inch but a near-hit doesn’t help assuage his frustration, "fuck."

"Oh bummer. Guess you’ll have to pass," y/n can’t help but to tease him.

And the pout on his lips does nothing to quell her amusement, "bollocks, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing," she denies before taking his place at the table. The odds are in her favor, a perfect alignment offering itself to sink the blue striped ball right into the closest pocket. And because y/n never misses a clear shot when she’s handed one, that’s exactly what happens. Tucking the cue back at her side, she mulls over the hundred questions titillating her mind and settles for another pass at him,"is this suit the most extravagant you own and if not, what are the others like?"

Harry scrunches up his nose at yet another dig taken at the expense of his clothes, his voice pitching a halftone higher than usual, "hey, s’nough outta you, leave my suits out of it." There is a pout puckering at his lips and y/n giggles at his theatrics when he brings his hands to his chest in a protective gesture. This man and his suits…

"Somehow I don’t believe you give a single fuck about people’s opinion on your fashion choices."

"Very true. But I do value your opinion." For a brief moment, humor and wit give way to vulnerable sincerity as the two of them lock eyes over the pool table. A shy smile graces y/n’s lips, her heart faltering at his sweet sentiment before Harry gently breaks the consuming stare-off, "well, if you’re lookin’ fo’ more extravagant, I actually have a canary yellow flared suit that goes with a violet dress-shirt." And just like that, they found their way back to confidential banter.

"Damn, now I have to see it."

"One day if you’re lucky," this time he does wink at her, and this time he doesn’t let her enchantress juju distract him from the task at hand. As soon as the balls vanishes from the table, the question flies out of his mouth, "do you really find my suits obnoxious?"

Y/n pauses at the inquiry and tries to read into his eyes. She inspects the bright emeralds for  any unsuspected insecurities and when she finds none, she sends him a simple smile, "I love them. I just enjoy too much your reactions when I give you shit about them." Her chuckle tugs at Harry’s lips, before she lets honesty flooding past hers, "you got such a great sense of who you are, Harry, it just shows in the way you dress. I admire that, don’t let that go."

Interiorly, he’s heart is jumping in somersaults at possibly the kindest compliment someone’s ever granted him, the fact that it came from her only sending his beating organ into more acrobatics. Exteriorly, he returns her tender smile and mutters a timorous ‘thanks love,’ before watching her pocket another ball.

This time she doesn’t have to mull it over, "why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"When we kissed earlier, you said you’d wanted to do it for a while. Why didn’t you?"

Her words are bare of any reproach as they both lean on their side against the table, inches apart from each other. It’s a fair question; one that she doesn’t really own as the word could have easily tumbled out from his mouth instead. It’s him on the spot though, and while he didn’t quite expect to broach such hazardous matters over a game of pool, he appreciates the openness of their bond. "I dunno, you always seemed so attached to boundaries at work, always so professional, I didn’t think you’d want me to make a move."

"I secretly did," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Goosebumps race down Harry’s arms as he takes in her confession and the way her teeth are  nipping her lips into a darker shade of pink. His eyes are drawn to them, the urge to close the gap and have her moaning in his mouth growing harder and harder to ignore, "fuck that’s sexy. You’re sexy."

The praise washes over y/n like a cold shower after a scorching day at the beach; startling shivers at first, golden skin tingling, and then all-encompassing relief. She loves how unfiltered he is with her, baring his thoughts to her just as they come, no editing, no secret agenda, no diffidence. Just her pure effect on him plastered across his beautiful face and candy-coating his words with a thick oozing layer of honeycomb syrup.

Leaning the slightest bit towards him, she tempts him with a near-kiss, almost dipping her lips in exquisite spongy fudge, but stops just as their breaths starts blending in one hot mess, "your turn," she purrs against his lips tantalizingly, before stepping away.

Harry looks like he is now the one in need of a cold shower, eyes pinched closed as he tries to compose himself, "right," he clears his throat. It takes him a bit more time to regain enough focus to make a successful go at the game, but once he’s got a good hold on the cue, a stable breath and a clear view of the shot, he takes it with ease and fortune.

As soon as he straightens up, he erases the distance between them, a determined look hardening the subtle lines of his face. "Did you ever think about me like I thought about you? At work, did you ever see me pass in the hallway and it took everythin’ you had not to follow me and kiss me senseless in the copy-machine room while no-one was watchin’?"

"Fuck. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice," y/n confesses in batted breath. It’s clear the scenario isn’t so much a fabrication of his mind made on the spot as it is  a confession of his own experience, and the thought has the air in her lungs going scarce, as though she’s reached the apex of Mount Everest.

Harry isn’t fending off the heated tension much better, fingers twitching around his cue as he’d rather have her underneath his fingertips instead. He takes one look at the ceiling to stave his yearning some and draws in a deep breath."This is killing me," he whimpers while his lips skim over he skin of her forehead. "Go on, take your damn shot so we can be done with this game."

"It was your idea," she reminds him wryly. All of it, really; coming here, playing pool, playing 20 fucking questions, this heated hodgepodge of salacity and virtuous adoration is all his doing.

"I miscalculated."

"Poor you," y/n gently mocks is disgruntled attitude before scoring another ball, or as she likes to regard, another question, another opportunity to further tease at his already crumbling countenance, "what about you, Harry, do you ever think about me? At work… or otherwise?"

She already knows the first half of the answer and only voiced the double-entendre to rile him up, so she’s quite stunned when he whizzes, "too fucking much fo’ my own good."

The pained expression on his face is almost comical for y/n, she can’t resist probing at his despair, "me too." He groans at the flowing visuals he can’t ban from his filthy mind before she gestures towards the pool table in a gentlemanly way, "and that’s your cue," they both share a chuckle at her silly pun.

If Harry wasn’t so lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, he would revel in the way their intellects seem to dovetail on all fronts; humor, banter, seduction, sincerity, nothing is lost in translation, they seem to talk in the same love language. From teasing digs and dirty innuendos to play on words or heartfelt confessions, they know exactly which frequency to tune in.

"Fuck, I can’t see straight," he laughs as he misses a shot for the second time, and y/n quickly takes over his spot around the pool table. Settle, relax, aim, breathe, shoot; another point to her flawless record. She turns to him, looking intently at his blown irises to stir up the flame already inhabiting them, "was it good?"

"Mind-blowing," he answers without unlocking their eyes, and the whole conversation is starting to get to her too. Her thighs rub against together, knuckles turning white around her cue as she tightens her grip and Harry has to bite his lips to contain a moan. He tries to distract himself by taking his turn in the game, and burst out in laughter when he pockets the ball and y/n cries out, "blue ball in the pocket! I feel like their might be a subliminal message somewhere but I can’t quite put my finger on it"

Once they regain their breath from laughing, tears of joy actually peeling from the corner of their eyes, they go back to staring at each other. It’s Harry’s turn to ask a question, and the anticipation had y/n fidgeting under his consuming gaze. She expects him to bounce back on the previous question, but to her surprise he decides to take a different route, "tell me darlin’, if I were to kneel at your feet and look up that pretty dress right now, what color your lil panties would be?"

The question sounds boyish really, yet instead of rolling her eyes at him, her core clenches around emptiness at the thought of having him between her legs right this moment, "can’t answer that, sorry."

"Oh come on love, you gotta say. Them’s the rules," Harry tries to coax the answer out of her but she’s not budging.

"Sorry, Harry. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell." His eyes widen at her lewd implication, the revelation of just how many layers away she is from being in the nude, coming into light. Damn, he would have gotten much more than a nip-slip.

"Fuck me, I need to sit down for a mo’."

She laughs at his dramatic response before picking up her cue, "you do that, in the mean time…" The rest of her sentence is cut short as she positions herself at the pool table, and the next sound cutting through the humid atmosphere comes from the ball falling into its target.

"Jesus, do you ever miss?"

"I don’t play to lose, Styles," she quips back. "Now, what’s your biggest fantasy? Aside from shagging in the copy-machine room, that is."

Harry takes one step closer, gently backing her against the table with one hand encasing her at either side of her waist. As he towers over her, his ardent look ignites a fire at the pit of y/n’s stomach, flame licking all the way up to her heart and down to her toes. Her core throbs before the words fall out of his supple lips like maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Right now? Bend you over this pool table and have my way with you."

"In front of all this people?"

"What d’you think is stoppin’ me from doin’ it right now?"

"Manners?"

The retort earns her a deep chuckle, as he shakes his head in disbelief, "fuck y/n, I lost my manners the moment you kissed me."

The raw admission sends a shiver down her spine, before she regains her full bearings and pushing his cue against his chest for him to grab, "your turn."

Barely moving from his spot nestled against her, he successfully sends the ball down the drain and doesn’t waste any time before asking in the same sultry voice, "favorite position?"

‘Why are y’asking?"

"Future reference," he announces confident.

"Well in that case, kinda like this…" she brushes against him as she bends over the table, ass jutted out on one side, before adjusting the angle of her cue and aiming for the pocket, "…when everything aligns and it just sinks…" bam, she propels the sphere in one strong hit "…right through." She finishes her demonstration with a score and a suggestive smile, only but one ball left for her to obliterate; the eight ball. "Are you ready to lose, Styles?"

"Dunno, is that your question?"

"Yes. I got everything I want to know already."

"Then I don’t fucking care about losin", s’not the game I wanna play anymore," he trails a finger down the skin of her back, goosebumps erupting at his touch. He is stopped by the tip of her cue pressing at his chest, slowly pushing him back from her space, and his hands meet this air in surrender. She’s got a wicked smile on her lips and a title to uphold after all, "last shot, make it count."

Harry takes the shot hastily, half expecting another miss, but the solid yellow ball disappears into the table’s corner in a vibrant crash. Eyebrows raised and shallow breath, he pivots back towards her, "please tell me this is turnin’ you on s’much as it’s turnin’ me on?"

"Yes," she rubs the exposed skin of his chest, eyes leaving his face to trail down his torso. "I’m just better at hiding it," she brings her lips to his ear, "physically or otherwise apparently." Then she leaves a loud smack on his cheek and goes around the table to sink the last ball standing in the way of her victory. In true y/n fashion, she completes a faultless round with one last graceful hit that leaves Harry transfixed by her dexterity.

"Damn, you are the queen of pool, I’m bowing down to you. Any final question?"

She lays the cue down on the table before coming up to him, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me back to my place?"

His head falls back on its neck, eyes closing in deliverance, "fuck yeah." This whole night may have been the most intense and rousing foreplay he’s ever experienced, he can’t wait to deliver good on his own promise.

➪ Masterlist

[harrysbbby]

ethereal environmentalist

Pairing: Kiara x reader

Requested: by anon: hey I saw you wanted kiara requests so if you can, could you do one where the reader is super environmental and is cleaning up the beach? and kie is w jj and she sees her and just like panics bc she immediately likes her? and the reader asks her out? TYSM!

Kie and JJ walked over the rise to the top of the sand dune. The fresh, salty breeze hit their faces, as they stood, surfboards in hand ready for a weel-deserved sesh. 

As they surveyed the water, deducing where the best waves were something caught Kiara’s eye. A little further down the beach was a girl, heaving a long a very large rubbish bag, her other hand holding a long pick up tool, clasping over a crush plastic bottle.

JJ had been yammering one about the swell when he released that Kiara hadn’t heard a word. Her eyes were wide and her mouth ajar as she stared at you, hair blowing furiously in the wind, sun hitting you’re going skin.

“She’s hot,” JJ stated, sly smirk on his face knowing this would catch her attention. Kie spluttered, finally averting her eyes from you.

“Yeah, she’s alright I guess,” Kiara said nervously, adjusting the surfboard under her arm in an effort to appear nonchalant. JJ raised his eyebrows at her, before rolling his eyes before stepping down the dune and onto the beach.

“Yeah sure, Kie,” he called back at the flustered girl who had gotten distracted by you again, “you aren’t acting as if she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.”

“Huh, no!” Kie tried but JJ’s lack of amusement continued. She sighed, “Okay maybe I think she is pretty, but look how cool she is, cleaning up the beach! But she would never go for someone like me!”

JJ deadpanned the girl as he took in her words.

“Seriously, Kie!? Why wouldn’t she?” he asked. Kiara wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not but regardless, she didn't get a chance to answer.

A rogue plastic bag floated away from the near grip of your rubbish picker, rolling over the uneven hills of the sand before landing against Kie’s leg. She looked up at JJ in panic, who met her with a bemused smile. Your eyes followed the bag to where it landed at her feet, smiling at the two strangers as you waded across the sand.

“Oh my god, JJ! She’s coming this way!” Kie exclaimed, watching as your hair flowed behind you. She lent down quickly, picking the bag off 

“I can see that,” JJ said cheekily watching as you approached.

“Hi!” you greeted cheerfully, a wide smile across your lips. 

Kie looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes wide as her lips hesitated. She stiffly held the plastic bag out in front of her, causing JJ to chortle.

“Thank you so much!” you said sweetly, taking the bag from her and placing it within the bigger bag you had. “You caught that one for me!”

Kie let out a nervous laughed, looking back over to JJ.  His face was stern, excessively pointing his head in your direction, urging her to do something.

“I, um--  you’re really pretty,” she said cautiously. This caused a deep blush to spread across your cheeks as you resembled a doe-eyed puppy, “and I think it’s great you’re cleaning up the beach!”

“Thank you!” you said bashfully, toying with the rubbish bag timidly. “You’re a green thumb too?”

With the continuation of a topic Kiara was confident in she perked up, shoulder rolling back to stand up straight as she smiled at you.

“Totally! I’ve been petitioning for all single use plastic to be banned! And I started the paper straws at The Wreck? It’s my parent restaurant!” She was still very nervous but her nerves subsided as your eyes lit up.

“Oh no way!” you said excitedly, “I love that place! Even more now it’s eco-friendly.”

The two of you stood there staring at each other, absorbing each other’s beauty. After a while you heard a throat clear, both of you snapping out of your trace. JJ had watched the whole scene unfold in front of him, smiling coyly as both of you looked back to each other shyly.

“Uh, well, if you want-- Maybe one day we could catch-up, talk about environment stuff?” you suggested. Kie could feel her heart beating out her chest, a tingling sensation over taking her body.

“I would love that,” she smiled. You handed her your phone, allowing her to put in her number.

“I’ll text you,” you looked down at your phone, looking at the name she had written, “Kiara.”

Kiara’s body began to burst with excitement, hearing her name falling from your lips. I could get used to this she thought.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduced. You waved at the boy who had been observing the whole scene.

“JJ,” he said. He looked back to Kiara, her face still holding an excited smile, causing a small grin to slid along his face.

“Nice to meet  you both, I better be going.

“Yeah, you too,” Kiara said longingly, watching as you set off across the and, soft, ethereal body contrasted against the harshness of the sun and sand.

JJ rolled his eyes once more.

“Someone’s got a crush,” he sing-songed teasingly running off into the water. It took Kiara a second to respond, groaning in annoyance before following after him.

“Shut up, JJ!”

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[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

I just saw your post on the matchups,,, but first of all - CONGRATULATIONS!! you deserve it so much<3

and can I please request a match-up?

my pronouns are she/they and I'm a lesbian! I'm infj and aries!

I'm 5,6 and I have brown-purple long length hair with hazel eyes.

I love learning about flowers and lgbtq+ history, singing, exploring nature, traveling, and baking! oh, and painting rocks!

well, I'm very quiet and closed off to strangers. but with my friends, my personality totally changes. they describe me as kind, responsible, chaotic, and pretty cheerful! but also realistic and honest (in a nice way?). I think that fits my actual personality.

I'm a very good listener, but I also really want someone to listen to me. also, someone that tells me how things are and is pretty good at communication because I'm a big overthinker. physical affection would be great as well. just someone who loves me as much as I love them.

my worst weakness is being bad at confrontation! but my biggest strength I think is being cared about others.

I also love picnics and studio ghibli movies!

I don't know if this helps but I listen to Mitsuki, mother mother and marina and the diamonds a lot.

photos for the relationship would be better, please!

thank you and congratulations again꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

Okay okay okay, I know this is a character matchup but like... can I match you up with me? You literally sound perfect.

Also, amazing taste in music, Mitski and Mother Mother are totally my two favorite artists!

Enough of that, I match you with...

ANNIE LEONHART

-----

Okay, reading this ask, it was basically screaming Annie at me

It feels like it would be a really stable and mutually beneficial relationship

At first, she was drawn to you just because of how quiet you were

Because, thank god, there was someone in the cadets who knew how to keep their mouth shut

Plus, she couldn't deny at all that she was physically attracted to you, too

So, for a while, she stuck by your side, watching over you like a hawk would to her territory

But, over time, you seemed to start talking to her much more

It surprised her at first, but she quickly decided she liked the talkative you much better

You seemed so genuinely happy to be near her, always smiling and spending time with her, no matter how stoic and unresponsive she stayed

And, she couldn't deny that occasionally getting roped into your little schemes and jokes was a little amusing sometimes

The more time she spent around you, the more she felt her affection grow towards you

It started with just an innocent curiosity, but was quickly growing into a genuine crush

She resisted pretty fiercely at first, refusing to admit her feelings or, heaven forbid, confess

But time passed, and it grew harder and harder for her to hide it

The way you would so casually put your hand on her shoulder, acting like it was such a platonic gesture. It was, to you, but to her, it made her heart flutter and her face redden

But she'd persist on keeping it hidden

That is, until she can't take it anymore

Having you around her so often, being so friendly to such an aloof person like her... it was driving her wild

So, one day, she quietly led you by your hand to a small open area in the forest near the barracks, having brought a soft blanket and a handful of stolen food for the two of you to share

She listens intently as you talk to her about whatever currently interested you, eating her portion of the food and making sure there was plenty left for you

Eventually, the sun was starting to set, and the two of you had ran out of food. You had to head back in soon, and Annie suddenly had no more time to stall

She quietly confessed her feelings to you, spilling the words from her heart in a moment of vulnerability that seldom surfaced

She raised her head to meet your glance, and you could her the slightest shake of nervousness in her voice as she asked if you liked her back

Which, you did, and you made it clear that you did very quickly

And boy, she was elated

Not that it showed on her face, but her heart was practically doing cartwheels as you moved over to hug her, and she immediately hugged back, practically involuntarily

Following the start of your relationship, Annie still stayed closely by your side, almost like a protector (a knight in shining armor, if you will)

If anyone, anyone, tries to start shit with you, she's immediately there to tell them that "she doesn't want anything to do with you, back off"

But, when the two of you are alone, she gets very soft

Insists on touching you in some way

Not sexually, but just laying your head in her lap, or leaning against her chest

She'll just melt having someone who she cares about deeply, someone like you, so close to her

She truly feels like she has the whole world in her arms whenever you cuddle with her

Refuses to let you go whenever there's "still extra time to cuddle"

ESPECIALLY at night

She will spoon you the entire night, and dare you even try to wiggle away, she's pulling you right back

Even when she's asleep, she'll always make sure that you're firmly against her front, like a giant teddy bear she refuses to let go of

Whenever you're anxious or upset, she makes sure that she's the first one you go to

She's not the best with words, but she can sure as hell listen

She'll always make sure you've vented out all your feelings, be it frustration, anger, sadness, grief, anything

She'll cradle you in her arms and pull you against your chest if you start crying, coddling you in the most comforting way she can manage

And if she's upset about something, she'll be a bit hesitant, but she'll ask if she can talk about something with you

And she sounds alarmingly small whenever she vents like this

Sometimes she might want to cuddle, other times she wants your words to reassure her that she's worth it, and sometimes she just wants someone to listen patiently

Sometimes, when it's really bad for her, she'll ask you to sing for her, and by the time the song is finished, you'll find her already asleep against your chest

She even started calling you her little songbird on occasion after that

But don't be fooled by her nonchalant behavior, this woman would do anything for you

-----

"Alright cadets, sparring is up! You'll be on free time until the sun begins to set, then file into the cafeteria for dinner!" Commander Shadis shouts over the commotion of the sparring ground. You finally stilled your movements, dropping your fists from their defensive stance and letting them fall to your sides, taking in a large sigh of air. Immediately, almost all of the cadets, including your training partner, dissipate to seek out their own little friend groups, using the rare free time as a chance to unwind and relax with your friends.

A warm hand on your shoulder startles you out of your breathless and oblivious state, and you turn to find the owner of the hand; none other than Annie.

"Hey, I was watching you from where I was sparring." She started, moving her hand in slow circles to lazily massage your shoulder in a calming manner. "You're technique is improving. Well done, you're catching on fast."

You sigh, tilting your head back to stare up at the sky. "Yeah, I guess..." You mutter. It didn't escape you how your voice sounded fragile and weak, but you weren't surprised. You had been feeling pretty awful for the past few days now, and as time passed seemingly without any time to breathe, you could only feel as the soreness seeped through your muscles, headache already starting to pound away at your temple, throbbing painfully.

Annie tilted her head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowing in concern as her hand stilled. "You okay? You don't sound good."

"I'm fine, just didn't get enough sleep."

"Liar." She spoke bluntly. You knew she was only trying to pry out what was wrong, but it didn't stop the sting of the word. "What's really going on? You can tell me." Her voice softened drastically from her previous tone, practically coaxing you to spill all of your worries onto her.

“Really, don't worry about it-"

"HEY Y/N! ANNIE!" An obnoxious voice called over the buzzing of voices left and right. The short-tempered brunette, Eren, jogged over to where you two were, trailed closely by Armin, Mikasa, Jean, and Reiner.

"We're going out to the forest to see who can collect the most berries, wanna come?" He chirped, inviting you into his little competition. If your body didn't feel like pure shit right now, you would consider joining him.

"It's fine." Annie interjects, taking a few subtle steps forward, standing in front of you to avoid bringing you into the purposefully short conversation. "She isn't feeling well, we're going to head to the barracks."

Eren's eyes traveled from Annie towards you, then back at Annie. Finally, he shrugged, turning around and walking away. "If you say so. But I'm not sharing any just so you know."

Once the small group had all started in the direction opposite of you and Annie, she took your hand firmly. "C'mon." She mumbled, tugging at your wrist to get you to follow.

She led you exactly where she said she would: the barracks. There, she found your bed, the one you had agreed to share with her, pulling the blankets up and climbing underneath them. Silently, she stared at you, patting the space next to her as an invitation. You obeyed silently, lying down next to her, and feeling a small fraction of the tension in your body melt away the second Annie's arms wrapped around you.

"Are you sure you're okay? Seriously, I don't like seeing you look so miserable." She muttered into the crook of your neck, hand searching under the blanket for your own, soon finding your it and rubbing comforting circles over the back.

"Mhm..." You groaned, already fighting off the urge to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there. "Just... tired. I feel like Shadis hasn't given us a break in weeks. I'm so sore... and tired..." A quiet grumble breaks through the silence, from what you presume to be your own stomach. "...and hungry." You finish.

Annie laughs softly at your last statement, heat rising to her cheeks as she moves her body to kiss you on the forehead. "I'll make sure to split some of my rations with you darling, I don't mind."

Her soothing voice had an unfortunate (or fortunate, it all depends on the situation) effect on you, sleep already trying to grasp you and pull you into its realm.

"You don't... have to..." You mumbled, lolling your head to the side as your eyes slipped shut, all attempts at protest dying in your throat as you plunged into unconsciousness.

Annie smiled softly at your sleeping form, pulling you closer and planting another kiss to your forehead. "Sleep well."

-----

(I couldn’t make the images smaller help 😥)

[lord-explosion-baku]

Socks (For Lack of a Better Title)

Mirio x F!Reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing (??)

A/N: I do not write for Mirio basically because he’s the epitome of sunshine and I don’t think I’d be able to grasp that well enough (he’s too good for me!!!), but I had a small smut idea for him and it’s a very special guy’s birthday. I love them and they deserve the world, but I can’t give them the world so they can take my smut.

“A sub??”

You ignore your other slack-jawed peers sitting around in the same circle you’re in and take a sip out of your bottle, keeping stern eye contact with Mirio Togata, who’s staring at you incredulously because you’ve just deemed him a submissive. You let the frothy liquid slip down your throat and smack your lips, as if to point out that you haven’t said anything too out of this world. You repeat yourself with even more nonchalant confidence with a shrug. “Sub.”

“I think I can kinda see it,” says Kirishima who sits perpendicular to you, but it seems that he’s only trying to back you up because nobody else will. Mirio looks to him, mouth agape, but he keeps his smile present. Pink dusts his cheeks, either from the beer or your accusation. It’s cute and you stand by your point.

“I don’t think so,” Mirio finally chides, taking a swig of his beverage. He looks to his socks, then to you, and you lift a brow.

“Care to dispute my claim?” you say, taking a business-like approach, as if you’re in civil court and your friends around you are the judge and jury.

“Sure,” he says, “I think I’m pretty dominant.”

“Do you have witnesses?” You slap back without thinking, and your friends around you snicker. You don’t actually want to know if Mirio has slept with anyone in the room. In fact, you hope he hasn’t. You and the ex-permeation user have been growing closer if the past couple weeks, and you haven’t been too sure what that closeness entails besides sporadic boba runs and last minute studious cramming. Since the incident that’s left him quirkless, you’ve made it a point to let him know how important he is to you, and you’ve feared that maybe, while trying to be there for him, you’ve made it seem like your relationship is nothing more than platonic. Still, he’s never talked about girls and you’ve never asked, but you’ve mostly hoped that maybe you could be the girl he talks to other people about.

“I’m innocent until proven guilty!”

“That’s exactly my point! You’re innocent. You seem like the kind of guy that would ask permission before doing anything.”

“Is it so bad to be a gentleman?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think you’d have an easier time if someone else held the reigns and guided you.” You pause, trying to think of the perfect thing to equate Mirio to, and your face lights up when you come up with, “a puppy! You’re like a Labrador retriever. Ready to please and receive commands and such…”

“Okay, I can definitely see that,” Kirishima, who’s quickly becoming one of your favorite friends, chimes in.

“A puppy.” Mirio considers this, mouth pushed to the side in that cute way it goes whenever he’s thinking hard about something. He decides not to battle that, instead turning back to you, and asks, “then what do you think you are? A dom?”

Another wave of snickers bounce around the room and you can’t understand them. Is the idea that wild? You don’t think you come off as someone more passive, but until that moment, you hardly considered yourself a dominant either. Now you can, if only to spite your doubtful friends.

“Sure! I would say that I am!”

“What makes you a dom, and me a sub? I’m not doubting you,” Mirio says, though the tone of his voice suggests otherwise, “but I am curious!”

“For one thing, it would mean that the two of you are compatible.” Yaoyorozu, who mostly stays silent during these kinds of discussions, nods to you. You could either kiss her or kill her. She’s dealt with you mooning over Mirio plenty of times in the past, so her adding that in might’ve done a good service for you, planting the idea of you and Mirio together in his head, but you’re now the physical embodiment of the monkey-covering-his-eyes emoji.

“A dom that’s been nursing a beer for the last hour and a half…” you hear someone who’s having a different conversation say. As if your drinking habits have anything to do with you in bed.

“I wanna hear what Ms. Lightweight has to say about this issue.” Mirio grins at you and you can tell that he finds your flushed face amusing. You’re so embarrassed that you can’t even remember your real reason for calling Mirio a sub to begin with!

Throwing any hope of sounding intelligent out the window, you point at Mirio’s feet. “Mr. Togata is wearing socks, your honor.”

The room goes silent. You hear a silent, “socks?” from some faceless individual outside your vision.

You continue, scrambling, “a true dom would make a decision: keep their shoes on or take everything else off. It’s the indecision that says Mirio would’ve done much better if he had someone else instructing him.”

Mirio looks to his socks and you can almost see an exclamation point above his head. You might’ve made a valid point by the looks of it, and he doesn’t say anything more when he sees you wearing your shoes, thank goodness.

Someone says they’re through talking about socks and shoes and the conversation moves to a topic more interesting to the masses. You can’t help but still feel a bit flushed. Two out of five times you look Mirio’s way, you catch him staring at you. Of the remaining three times, he catches you staring at him, and the sixth time both of your eyes meet seemingly at the same time, he smiles. It’s not the same smile he shares with the group for when Denki Kaminari says something stupid. This smile is warm and genuine, with a hint of curiosity.

You make a decision to get up and excuse yourself, explaining the the one beer you nursed throughout the night has made you sleepy. You brush off friendly objections and make your way to the stairs. You don’t go up before looking back at Mirio who holds the same curious expression he did before. You part your lips and climb the stairs. You hope he doesn’t know how embarrassed you are.

Once you’re in your room, you make no rush to get ready for bed. You’re not actually all that sleepy; you just spent too much time around everyone else when you really would rather have just been with Mirio. You think about texting him— maybe he’ll wanna see a movie tomorrow, but as soon as you decide against it, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Mirio, a sockless Mirio, leaning against your doorframe. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, he says, “I’m here to dispute your claim.”

Your cheeks grow hot. He can’t mean… he can’t really mean… anything by that. Could he? You’re so struck with bewilderment that you don’t even realize you step to the side to let him in until he’s gliding past you. You close the door and hear a surprising click! You did that, but you don't remember making the decision to lock your door.

Your room has never really seemed too small to you, not until you see Mirio standing in the middle of it, talking in all that is you: your thoughtless tchotchkes, your messy bedspread, your various posters, until finally his eyes land on your bookcase.

You don’t know why you’re suddenly so embarrassed about the collection you’ve got going on. You’ve got Paula Fox and Khaled Housseini— books that you could speak endlessly about, though at the bottom shelf, you have books that you read in middle school that you choose to ignore, but haven’t wanted to part with.

You step in front of him with intention, but Mirio is so much bigger than you, and he still manages to read out loud, “Broadway Musicals of the 1980’s?”

Your blood boils. “You wanted to… dispute your claim?” you urge, trying to draw his attention away from anything other than your books, but Mirio isn’t having it, probably sensing your embarrassment. He has to get you back somehow.

“You’ve got… quite a few books about musicals…”

you clear your throat. “Your claim?”

“In a moment— what’s this?” Mirio reaches around you, his arm just barely brushing against your stomach. You swallow harshly, bringing yourself into full defensive mode, because you know what he sees: a bottom shelf book about vampires that you failed to put back on the bottom shelf!

“I love musicals!” You admit, turning to face your bookshelf. You seat his hand back and you’re too aware of how close he is behind you. Your heart flutters, very unlike a dom, but he isn’t allowed to see the look on your face.

“Do you?” He asks with genuine curiosity. It could have easily been something to tease you about, but he doesn’t. Instead, he asks you to talk about your favorites, particularly the ones from that damned book, your lifeline.

You speak. He listens, only asking a few questions about things he’s genuinely curious about. You wonder if he actually came to your room to do anything, or if he just wanted to check in on you... because he’s your friend and a good one at that.

Your breath catches when he snakes his arms around your waist. You feel a chill while he moves his face through your hair to find your neck, and suddenly you’re jelly as lips press against your skin. He kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, large hands squeezing your sides and you think you’ve lost your sense of sight, the second thing to go after you find yourself unable to speak.

Mirio grins against you, lips brushing farther up your neck. You allow your eyes to close and lean your head to the side, granting him more room for his lips to roam. You try to steady your breathing, but it’s heavy; you’re too obvious and Mirio knows you’re trying not to sigh.

“Keep talking,” he purrs, fanning your ear with warm breath, but it’s not him. At least, it’s not the Mirio you know. This Mirio’s voice is deeper, aggravatingly alluring, dark and husky— a fantasy you didn’t know you had come to life.  “I wanna know more about 42nd Street.”

You’re certain he’s teasing you now and you want to be mad about it, but you can’t. It’s sweet that he’s paying more attention to your words than you are. You could keep talking after you’ve gained some ounce of composure. Hell, you could babble his ear off until the two of you lose the mood and decide to do something else to pass the time. You have board games— you could easily beat him at a game of battleship, but will you truly be winning if things escalated to battleship? Figuratively speaking, you could keep speaking until Mirio eventually trails his hands down past the hem of your pants, but, figuratively speaking, that would mean he’d win. He’d be the dom making a mess of you while you held no power, and you aren’t going to let that happen.

Screw battleship. You had a boat right behind you and you’re going to steer it.

You turn abruptly to face him. This catches him off guard for a split second and you use that to your advantage. You reach up to the back of his head, grab a fist full of his surprisingly soft, not-so-gelled hair, push yourself up against him, and your lips collide with his like stormy waves crashing against unsuspecting beaches. Mirio’s quick to grip onto you from behind, pulling your body flush against his hardened chest. He’s warm and you feel good pressed against him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair because it’s not enough.

You run your tongue along his— he doesn't taste like beer like you expect him to. He tastes faintly like Colgate washed out a couple times, and a more prominent minty flavor. You grin against his lips. He must’ve stopped by his dorm to brush his teeth before he came to you. He wants to taste good for you and he does, but he doesn’t want you to know that he wants you to think he tastes good.

You eye your bed, the goal. Your hands slide down to his shoulders and you add a bit of pressure onto him, trying to push him back all the while you struggle to deepen your kiss is far too apparent. Trying to move Mirio is similar to trying to move a mountain. He pulls away, eyebrows raised, with a complacent grin that tells you he enjoys watching your struggle. You huff.

In a higher, more loving voice, Mirio asks, “what is it, girl?” while cupping your cheek with his large hands, and you vaguely recall comparing him to a Labrador retriever while you tried to explain yourself earlier. You scowl back at the motionless mountain and his grin widens. He brushes his thumb against your pursed lips. “What do you need? You may speak”

Even though you know Mirio is only taking on this contemptuous persona to prove a point, it infuriates you. Frustrated, you leap up at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, and striking. him with another deep, impassioned kiss. He stumbles back a bit, and you think that maybe you could win, but the sturdy Mirio catches himself with one leg, pushes back, and slams you into the book case.

You gasp at the short pain pinching your back, but it’s nothing compared to the sensuous feeling of Mirio’s desperate lips grazing your neck. You moan, one hand holding onto Mirio’s muscular shoulders, while the other grips the second highest level of your bookshelf. Paula Fox falls to the floor, followed by Khaled Housseini, and you couldn’t care less.

You find yourself craving more of his touch, more of his warmth, more of his skin, so you grip onto his jacket and usher it off of him. Mirio holds you up one handedly while his free hand rips through your blouse, the buttons of your shirt scattering to the floor to dance around Fox and Housseini. You knot your fingers into the back of his shirt and whine. In the position you’re in, you won’t be able to get his damn shirt off, and he doesn’t hold that same predicament. He’s able to unclasp your bra with singular, nimble fingers and that joins your buttons, your tattered shirt, and your books on the floor.

“Mirio,” you hiss through your teeth as his own teeth graze one of your puckered buds. He doesn’t stop, but he looks up at you tentatively. He slides his pink tongue out to lav over your sensitive nipple, and your body melts into him.

“Bed,” you say with less ferocity and Mirio complies, bucking you up so that you’re even higher and easier to carry towards your mattress.

Mirio’s knees reach the edge of your bed and you try to use the weight of your body to make the both of you topple over. He laughs in response, seeing through your obvious advances, and swings you around to the bed, but you kick your legs just enough that you land on your feet on your sheets, towering over him.

You feel a little ridiculous standing on your bed when it should be used for much more than that, but you’re finally able to get his shirt over his head. If you weren’t flushed enough before, you certainly are now. Everyone has seen Mirio naked, there is positively no avoiding that, but there’s something different about being right in front of him, feeling the heat of his ripped body so close to yours that make your stomach turn to knots. He chuckles at you because you don’t realize you’re gawking.

“Yeah?” He says, both as a question and an affirmation. Mirio isn’t one to say something as preposterous as, ‘this is the real deal,’ but he says so much more with a simple, ‘yeah.’

Instead of replying with a ‘yeah’ yourself, the easy route, you grab his hand and lead it to your side. His eyes mellow as he runs the back on his pointer finger up and down your body, over to wear the waistline of your jeans. He kisses you right above your naval, then right below it, and your body shivers in response.

“So soft,” he muses so quietly that you can assume it’s not meant for you, rather he’s voicing his thoughts aloud. His fingers go to the button of your jeans, but he pauses, purses his lips, and narrows his eyes.

You begin to fret over the thought that maybe he’s finished. Maybe he’s come to prove a point and just by getting you flustered and topless on your bed, that point has been proven— game over, goodnight, see you never, bye. Then his eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow gently.

“Can I?” He asks, pulling slightly on your jeans.

Mirio Togata is a glorious mountain, a cute Labrador puppy, and a polite gentleman. You find victory in the fact that you were half-right about something, and despite being absolutely charmed by the man who you’re going to let fuck you senseless, you must gloat a little bit.

You bring your thumb and forefinger to his chin, tilt his head up, and say, “I don’t know. Can you?”

Mirio’s eyes flash and you can see the heat of desire in his longing stare. The pools of his eyes grow heavy as he unbuttons your pants, kissing you right above the hem of your underwear, and says, “let me.”

And you do. You let him. You let him ease you down, you let him push your body onto the mattress, and you let him relieve you of your jeans, your bottoms, your doubts, your inhibitions. And it’s fine, and it’s good, because his cheeks feel fantastic brushing against your skin, and his tongue is extraordinary teasing you between your thighs.

Mirio is a gentleman and the way his tongue paints maps against your quivering heat would be charitable, if not for the fact that he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. He hums when you sigh, tentative to every twitch of your body, every sudden gasp you elicit, every surprising tug your tangled fingers give to his beautiful, golden hair. Mirio draws coils deep within your belly, building a tension that’s dark and deep, until he has you arching your back, squeezing your eyes tight, and seizing as pleasure bursts and breaks and floods the entirety of you.

When you’re no longer grasping at the sheets and you’ve gained some sense of composure, you look down to see Mirio practically wagging his tail, ready to receive affirmation— praise for a job well done. You smile and pet his head, probably a little too smug with the picture he portrays even though you’re wordlessly thankful for all that he’s done, and say, “good boy.”

The eager look on his face is replaced by something more mischievous. He brings his lips to your fluttering bliss and gives it a long lick, calling back your senseless shaking.

“M-mirio,” you mewl, shaken and overly-sensitive to his treacherous tongue. “What are you—? I’ve already—!“

His fingers edge the center of your desire while he pushes the rest of his body closer to you. He levels his head with yours, fingers running circles between your thighs, causing you to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Have you?” He asks, even though he knows too damn well that you have. He captures a wistful moan with his lips, tasting your pained pleasure as if it were only an appetizer for a grand feast.

“Yes!” You say breathlessly just as his fingers curl into you. Your mouth hangs open and he watches you lose your mind with delight.

“but you’ve been such a good girl,” he whispers huskily, slowly pumping his fingers, setting you up to blow you away, “and I might not be so innocent.”

He bites into your neck and you claw at his back. It’s only then that you realize he’s lost his pants. You don’t think he realizes he’s slowly grooving against you, erect and throbbing, and your eyes roll back imagining him inside of you.

“I want you…” you whisper as his tongue glides against the shell of your ear.

“Mmm?” His low thrum tickles you in a way that’s both sweet and enticing. That’s what he is… sweet… you want him to know that you think he’s sweet. You want to make him feel good, too, maybe even while demonstrating that you still have some fight in you, despite your shaky hands and uneven breath.

You reach down and gently pull his hands away from your center. You roll on top of him so his back is to your headboard and you look down on his cute, surprised face. You lean down to give him a sweet peck. He sighs against your lips, “you’re beautiful,” so you kiss him again, deeper, memorizing the curve of his lips and relishing the soft groan he gives when you reach around to grab the base of his cock. You pump it, edging yourself closer to him until the two of you are aligned.

The tides of his eyes are heavy with need while his palms smooth over your thighs. You bite your lip and look towards his abs, clenching and unclenching from anticipation.

“Let me?” You say, posing it as a question, when really you know he wants it just as badly as you do. His answer comes when his hands grip tightly onto your hips and he pushes you onto him.

You roll your hips, wielding a steady rhythm, only allowing Mirio to keep shallow and slow thrusts as you get used to both his length and his girth. He’s breathy while the head of his cock accepts most of the attention; he’s sensitive and you can tell by how he shudders every time you sink a few centimeters lower on him.

“Please,” he rasps, and you don’t realize it until you see his brows furrowed above desperate azure eyes scanning over you that you’re torturing him and he’s letting you. Your hands cover his and guide them up and down, picking up your pace until you’re finally hitting his hilt.

You moan, loud enough for anyone in the next room over to hear, though you’re relieved by the fact that most of your friends are probably still downstairs, playing the same game that’s lead you and Mirio here.

Your name teases his lips, lost to a mixture of swears and grunts. The yes, god, please, fuck, you feel incredible, god’s fill the room just as much he fills you. You groove against him, skillfully trying to keep hold of the reigns, but Mirio’s strong body has more control over you even while he’s the one against the sheets.

Mirio’s large enough that you feel a stretch and the thought sends jubilant waves cascading throughout your body. He thrusts into you, making you cry out in glee and pleasure while bouncing on his shaft. Sweat wedges between your motor bodies and you don’t care, because  it’s wonderful; you feel him. You coil around him, nails imprinting tiny crescents into his muscular back while his lips roam your collar bone, your chest, your breasts, until they find yours, and he kisses you like it’s his god-given right.

You’re in ruins when he tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face away, still close, but not close enough that you can kiss him once more, just enough that you feel his panting fanning your face. He eyes hold you steady— you don’t think you could look away even if you wanted to— and tears prick your eyes when you’re swarmed with the realization of what those beautiful, round eyes hold: adoration.  

Mirio loves you, and he’s displayed that not only with your ambiguous friendship, but with the way he’s handled you on this singular night. Even while trying to prove a point (he’s the dom), he’s shown restraint. Even when he slammed you against the bookcase, he could very much have hurt you more than that simple pinch, but his arms guarded you and kept you safe and still.

Hell, he could have ripped your pants off at any second of the night, but he wanted to make sure that you wanted the same.

Mirio loves you and he’s displaying that now through his touches, through his whispers, through his liquid eyes that show much more than fiery lust and circumstantial desire. They show care, and devotion, and reverence. You want to tell him you feel the same, but you feel a tugging pulse from your belly.

“Mirio,” you choke out and just as you feel a jolt, he stutters inside of you.

He grasps your sides and flips you onto your back. He says your name likes it’s a hymn as he hammers into you, praising you with loving kisses and nips. You squeeze around him, feeling the surge build up and spill out. You can’t let go of him while your body sings pleasure and gratification in energetic waves flowing up from your toes to your shoulders— overwhelming ecstasy taking you over.

He spills onto your sweat covered stomach, bowing his head against your shoulder. Your fingers tickle his sweat covered back and you coo at him, happy. He lets his body hit the mattress next to you and he stares at your body like he can’t believe what’s happened.

“You-” he breathes, but shakes his head, deciding that whatever he was going to say can’t amount to what he’s feeling.

“You,” you agree, sinking into your pillow. You’re not sure that you can believe what happened either, only the evidence lays out clearly through the tingles in your fingers and the mess on your stomach.

He tries again. “That was—“ but he’s at a loss for words. You brush his hair back and kiss him. He wraps his arm around your torso and brings you into a warm, already-too-familiar embrace. “Should I get like a towel or something?”

“No,” you say, “not yet. I’m happy here. I’ll probably just shower anyway.”

“Can I join you in that shower?”

You snicker. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Hey.” You feel him grinning against your shoulder. Then, he laughs. “Don’t forget to take your socks off before the shower.”

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter@unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio@zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen@psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 3

Time for the Forgotten

He wonders. There's a question gnawing at him. Twilight knew. His wolf-boy had not wavered in the slightest when Time had suggested they could be related by blood. He'd been... serious. So serious. Scarily serious. It was a bit of a glance in his mirror shield. The reflection similar enough that it took some effort to mask it with nonchalance. Twilight hadn't been ashamed, more wistful and awed than anything after that talk with Malon.

But he had started to notice the way Twilight looked at him when no one else did.

Twilight knows. Twilight knows and he is a fine young man that Time is so, so proud of. He's not the favorite, because he can't have one. It's a different bond though (something like what he has with Warriors), and he always made sure to never let that influence his decisions on this quest.

The others don't doubt their place with the group. Not because of Time, at least. It's the least he can do for those incredible young men.

He just feels the question come and go in the dark. Twilight hadn't trained with a sword before his quest. Their technique is so similar however... He has to have been taught.

His heart hovers between settled and troubled, and it's the most innocuous thing that tips the balance.

A jab amongst others as they're cutting down wood for a fire, of all things.

Twilight, chainmail and shirt off, wipes sweat off his brows, an axe across his shoulders and a pile of neatly cut branches by his feet. “So slow,” he says, teasing his brother-in-arm a few trees over. “Didn't they run drills like those in the army?”

As always when pricked, Warriors heckles back. “Not every one of us was born in a barn, ranchhand!”

“For your information, I was found in the woods as a toddler, thank you very much,” Twilight replies, taking on an exaggerated snobbish accent. Or what he thinks passes as. It's a bit hard to tell with Twilight's countryside drawl.

The others laugh, join in the mockery, and they don't notice their leader taking a second to digest the news.

Twilight is his descendant. Twilight was adopted at too young an age to remember his birth parents. Might not even know their names.

And a wound he thought was closing suddenly bleeds inside him.

                                                   ***

It's a slow evening, almost night, and they haven't encountered a monster in days. But he's reeling, his head spinning.

His mind is filled with questions he knows are futile. Pointless bites from a cruel, unknowable future.

Which of Twilight's parents had the Hero's blood? Was it a granddaughter or grandson that perished, leaving a little boy orphaned? Had they known? Twilight mentioned having the Triforce of Courage since as long as he could remember. Had his parents learned only then of the heritage? When their son was marked by fate?

Was it a lack of knowledge that had killed Twilight's birth parents? Training?

The Goddesses truly are cruel, to confirm all his greatest fear in the same breath they gave him a glimpse of triumph. He doesn't know how to feel.

Time knows he ought to talk to someone about those things. About the choice he'd been offered. Even if it felt like breathing glass, like baring his own naked flesh to the elements. He's done it before, mostly with Malon, bless his darling wife. He's spoken the words, cried in whispers and fallen asleep on a damp pillow with the arms of his love around him.

He let his Zelda erase all the suffering Ganondorf wrought, and that very act might have condemned his own to an ignominious death. Might have cost Twilight his birthright. Worse still is the knowledge Wind offered him: the timeline hadn't vanished either. What was the point then? A childhood he couldn't recover even with a child's body? A forsaken land threatened by a mad demon?

He should speak.

He... can't.

He sits down on a rock and ignores the few curious gazes of the boys when he pulls open his inventory.  Other times, he might play with them, dance on their expectations and see their astonishment while he laughs inside.

He can't laugh right now.

His fingers close on the instrument, which sends a tingling of power through his hand. An ocarina to commune with the goddesses. He's not a pious man, never had the need, but as he raises the pipe end to his lips, it does feel like praying.

The Song of Healing.

Music to sooth pain beyond flesh and bones.

Why, then, does it only sound like screeching to his ears?

He put so many to rest in that forsaken place. Why can't he turn that power on himself? Why is he not allowed the slightest bit of-?

Something hits him in the chest. The last note of the song goes wild, off-key, and it stops the old memory playing in his head.

“Wolfie?” they call, some puzzled, a few like Wind rather ecstatic by the presence of the pup's beast form.

“... Did he just headbutt the old man?” Legend asks, smirking.

“Maybe the music hurts his ears?” Sky ponders.

Time doubts that. For one, Hylian ears wouldn't hurt enough for that kind of reaction even if he started playing as badly as he felt. No, it was the song that got Twilight into that state.

The whine Twilight makes pulls at some long dead heartstrings. Despite his size, worrying strength and undeniable intelligence, that sound alone gives Twilight the air of a kicked puppy.

The pup can't know, he tells himself. His heritage had been unknown to him until his quest, he mentioned that once. He can't know what the Song of Healing means, what playing it is supposed to do.

But the pain in Twilight's sky-blue eyes speaks otherwise.

“I suppose I ought to be more considerate of our canine friend,” Time declares, dusting off his pants. “My equipment could use a bit of maintenance.”

Busy work. The song had been a bad idea anyway.

As he stands though, he feels Wolfie's fang graze his hands and heels. Tug at his sleeves.

“Not sure he agrees with that,” Wild comments, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Wild knows what this is, and Time has the creeping idea that he's being herded like a goat.

“He'll have to get used to the idea,” he replies, more even than he feels.

The sympathetic feeling is starting to flicker at the repeated nipping. To be a hero, one needs to be stubborn. In this case, Time rather feels this is turning against him. He's rarely been the target of Twilight's protective streak. Fewer still as Wolfie. He is starting to understand that the style of comfort changed quite a bit during the transition. The inability to talk forces his protege to go physical.

And physical for a wolf...

Air is shoved out of his lungs as a massive weight crashes on his back.

“Not gonna work, pup,” Time bites out, trying and failing to keep walking as if nothing is wrong.

Wild's meals are far too rich if this is the result. A big lug of a wolf not knowing his place. He could shake him off, but now his pride is shouting for a decisive victory. He can't surrender so much authority at once. The group's survival and very continued existence depends on it!

His foot hits one of the logs they cut to sit. Of course.

Twilight chooses that moment to jump off. Of course.

Time has no time to brace himself for the puddle of mud. Of. Course.

Would the Goddesses strike him deaf so he doesn't have to hear the explosion of laughter shaking the camp!

His successor looks awfully smug, huffing and puffing on his side of the dead campfire.

Far too smug, in fact.

And, before he knows what's happening, Time finds himself chasing after that insolent youngster throughout the clearing under the thunderous laughter of seven other heroes.

Wolves are faster, but Time has far too many tricks up his sleeves to be bested. A hundred years of training might allow this brat to compete. MIGHT!

And when he collapses not too long after, it's side by side with an equally panting but not as annoyed pup.

He lets out a long sigh, his head lolling on a patch of moss, and the word is more mouthed than spoken: “Why?”

“Woof,” Twilight barks.

It's nonchalant, a little mocking and very much the non-answer Time would give in his place. He hadn't intended for his wall-building tactics to be turned against him this way. But, he supposes, a teacher can't always choose what his students will take from them.

There is, however, a clear hierarchy that needs reestablishing.

Time's grown up with eternal children. He has years of training in zero-ing of the most sensible weak spots in a body. Specifically, where one is most ticklish.

The effect is immediate, over-the-top and oh so satisfying.

Wolfie jumps five feet in the air. He tries to bolt, but in all his arrogance, hadn't realized he'd stayed too close to escape Time's grip.

(The others are watching with wide eyes as their glorious leader play-fights with their massive wolf-friend. Bets are, perhaps, being made.)

Only when the yipping sounds appropriately pitiful does Time give in and stop his ministrations. With a breathless laugh, he lets himself fall on his side, right next to his infuriating descendant. Clearly, Malon would have to be a stricter parent (Time knows he can't be one if his life depends on it) if this is the standard behavior to be expected of his lineage.

For a moment, Time lets himself lay there, on moist grass, half over, half under a wolf with behavioral problems. The thought, again, that he is promised a family line, that this irritating young man descends from him, soothes the old scars on his heart. Despite himself, his hand finds the soft fur and runs through the coat. He doesn't know the future. Few if none knows the full extent of his past. He's long learned to live in a world of strangers wearing friendly faces, of clueless happiness fueled by nightmares of events that, ultimately, never happened. He's a man of faded dreams, to be recognized only by the most precious few.

Some of the weight shifts, and Twilight's big head lies down on top of his chestplate, a soft glint in those gentle blue eyes. Time can hardly move, even if, at the moment, he finds himself comfortable enough resting with his eldest son.

… Which, now that he thinks about it, is what Twilight had been after all along.

“You damned nosy pup,” he says, smacking himself on the forehead. “It's not your job to worry. It's mine.”

The glare he receives goes straight to his soul. As if, it challenges. They really are the same on that front, aren't they? Him and his eldest?

Time can't even tell when it happened, but his chest doesn't feel tight anymore despite the added wolf head. His worries seem so much smaller when his descendant can wrestle-trick him into submission with ease. The boys would be alright.

“Thank you... ”

It's when he sits down by the campfire later that evening, glaring at a smug Twilight over his bowl of soup, that he suddenly realizes the ache has gone. That the bitterness of all his pain being forgotten just... didn't matter in front of that cheeky boy smirking at him.

Even his heart betrays him by going warm with pride. He's impressed.

It shouldn't be a surprise.

After all, his successor is descended from his Malon too. And she always knew best how to handle him.

“You're getting second watch tonight, pup.”

The grunt of annoyance is hardly repayment for a faceful of mud, but you take what revenge you can get. That's another lesson living with the kokiris taught him.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: pink hyacinth 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: settsu banri/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 2.5k words 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨: alyssa ✨, natasha, kat

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: flower shop part-timer banri and friendly competition between him and the reader. might make part 2 if i feel like it. 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this work is a part of the flower shop event, a series of unconnected flower shop AU one-shots

As the flower shop grew more popular, the more difficult it became for you and your boss to manage everything by yourselves. Even though it wasn’t the holiday season, the orders seemed to increase every week— plus, managing the till while making a last minute arrangement and simultaneously giving people flower recommendations? It was no easy feat, that was for sure.

“Let’s hire someone to work part time alongside you,” your boss finally decided one day as she flipped through the accounting ledger book, “it’s not always the both of us will be at the store at the same time. We need the extra help.”

You hummed  in reply, not thinking much of it at the time as you continued taking inventory. As long as they weren’t overly cold to you, you couldn’t foresee any problems. Well, except for maybe one, little thing.

“My salary won’t be lowered, right?”

…

You were expecting the new hire to be the stereotypical soft, sweet, fluffy looking person of whom grandmas would be drawn to. Instead, he was a guy wearing a purple, leopard-cheetah-whatever animal print bucket hat with a luxury brand logo right smack in the centre.

Aha, it really put the statement in the term statement piece. It certainly gave him a lot of impact.

You wanted to do something in between laughing and crying, but your boss probably wouldn’t appreciate either one. With some restraint, you introduced yourself with a  bright smile, handing him a work apron you hoped was his size.

“If you ever need any help, just let me know,” you offered, leading him to the staff room so he could store his belongings somewhere and take off that dumb hat. “It might take you a while to get used to some things, but I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it soon!”

“I’m a quick study, don’t worry.”

There was something about the way he phrased it that made you intrigued. He said it in a pretty nonchalant manner, even his expression remained relaxed, but the moment your eyes met his you found yourself growing excited. There was a certain glint there that you recognised pretty quickly, and you had a feeling he did, too.

“I think we’ll get along well, Banri-kun,” you said, grinning in anticipation of the next few weeks. It would be an undeniably nice break from the usual routine work brought upon you.

There’s a visible upwards stretch on his lips, too, and though he replied to you with a “who knows?” something in your gut told you the feeling was already reciprocated.

…

Settsu Banri wasn’t lying one bit when he told you he learned things fast. On his first day he took the time to observe you first, watching you go about the different tasks for the day— from how and for how long you watered each plant, to how you went about choosing flowers to add to a bouquet, to how you interacted with the customers and how you subtly managed to convince them that yes, they did need that new and slightly pricey fertiliser.

The way he was able to pick up on the way you did things pretty quickly was something to be envied. Although he still lacked a lot of the stock knowledge and experience you had, he easily made up for it with his skill in… literally everything else.

He wondered what your reaction would be— would you be pissed? That wasn’t really his intention but he was pretty self-aware that some people found that annoying. Though he wasn’t overly concerned of what people thought of him in the first place, it wouldn’t sit right with him either if his co-worker on one of his first jobs didn’t like him.

You stood behind him, your critical eye peering at the way he arranged his flowers. Pink ranunculus and hyacinth, as well as some other filler flowers, laid out atop the worktable. With his choice of an off white Kraft paper, the assortment of pink decorative sheets, and the silver lace ribbon, it was clear that he was a natural— or at least he had a good eye for colour scheme.

“All this fit the customer’s price range, yeah?” he asked. Truly, he already knew the answer. It was easy to estimate the amount of wrapping needed for a bouquet of that size, and the price labels per material made things even easier. He even skimmed the flower language guide printed out to make sure his flower choices were optimal.

In fact, the real question he meant to ask wasn’t even whether it fit the budget or not.

Despite his confidence, he turned his head around if only to gauge your facial expression. You stood still in your spot for a few seconds; then you quietly moved from your station behind his back to beside him, your arm brushing against his as you took a closer look. He didn’t tense up from the contact, but he’s not completely numb to the sudden closeness, either.

Though he was planning on it already, his awareness of you definitely grew as he watched your reactions from the corner of his eye.

A normal person would’ve taken one look and end up deciding then and there if it was nice or not, but as he watched the narrow of your eyes and the way the pads of your fingers felt the texture of papers he knew not a single detail was going amiss with you.

He could respect that. There was something pretty admirable about someone completely dedicated to their craft.

“Yeah,” you replied, “right down to the choice of going for a thicker ribbon instead of something thinner. It’ll turn out pretty,”

As he was about to soak up your praise and reply in stride, you ended up surprising him as you followed up with another comment.

“Though I think your flower choice could be… better,” you commented coolly.

With an eyebrow raised, he couldn’t find it in himself to be offended at all— just plain curious in what you have to say.

“The customer asked for a non-rose bouquet to tell someone they’ve fallen for them because they’re so charming, so ranunculus and hyacinths best fit the criteria,” he explained, curious of how you’d critique his decision.

“The ranunculus was a good choice, but lowkey makes the guy seem shallow?” you pointed out, a shrug soon following. “Also, I wouldn’t go for pink hyacinth— the bouquet ends up implying the guy’s just playing around with the girl. If you went with blue, it’d show that he’s sincere about his feelings.”

Banri let out a little exhale of breath, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table to look at you properly. “Sense, doubt whoever’s getting this is gonna go as hard analysing as you though.”

You rolled your eyes before mirroring his actions, “You never know with these things, but… maybe you’re just upset you didn’t make the perfect choice?”

He huffed, but a smirk rose to his face just as yours did. Were you challenging him? He can’t say he particularly hates it, not when he’s steadily growing more and more interested in you.

“And maybe you’re just paranoid I’ll catch up to your skill level quickly,” he teased, amused when you don’t back down from his provocation. He initially wasn’t serious about it, but if you were down— “I’m sure I can make you admit to my skills in a span of a week, maybe even tomorrow.”

“Oh I’m too nice for that, I’ll give you the rest of the week to make it easier on you,” you cooed playfully, before ultimately coming to a conclusion, “wanna bet?”

“With what?

Your eyes flitted away elsewhere, looking a little too pensive for such a trivial matter. “I mean, I’m broke, but just betting for the sake of pride is boring…” you trailed off, and Banri couldn’t help but helpfully supply his two cents.

“Don’t people in shows usually ask for a favour or some shit with these kinds of things?”

You stared at him blankly. “I… I get what you mean, but not gonna lie, using the word favour makes it sound wrong—“

“Oi oi,” Banri interrupted, “don’t make me out to be some kind of fuckboy.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you let out a laugh that was light, laced with a hum of amusement at the matter, “but like, we don’t have to decide on anything now? Let’s just go with the flow. I’m sure I’ll eventually think of the reward I’ll get~”

“That confident?”

You shrugged, “not really, just optimistic… so, you game?”

…

Honestly, neither of you even set any rules or guidelines for your little competition; it was just a matter of you having fun competing with Banri over numerous things.

Who could convince more people to purchase gardening products they may or may not actually need were hesitating on buying (6-9 in Banri’s favour).

Who could recommend the better flowers (8-4 in your favour).

Who could compute and double check accounting and inventory faster (5-6, you told yourself you’re making it even today).

Who could create the better bouquet arrangement (somehow, a tie. Even with his fashion sense, he was pretty good at coordinating colours and patterns. You did have to stop him from using two animal print papers in one go, though).

Occasionally your boss would walk in the two of you bantering and critiquing each other’s work. At first, you worried she’d tell off the both of you (or maybe just you, since you were technically Banri’s senior in terms of experience), but she deemed it as ‘productive noise’ and let the two of you continue, even chiming in with her own opinions from time to time.

With her encouragement, neither of you held back.

“Oh, you accidentally cut too much ribbon— what a waste,” and “you missed a row in your calculation. Let me show you,” were amongst the common statements you said to each other.

A work relationship that was neither vile nor overly friendly, teasing at very least and strangely productive at most. You were quite satisfied with this turn out, a good way to stave off the boredom work could bring, but life had other things in store for the two of you.

Beyond either of your expectations, your dynamic would soon enough evolve into something beyond little comments exchanged between one another and one-upping each other.

…

There were always hints that beneath both of your competitiveness, there was a lot of thoughtfulness as well. Helping each other out under the guise of “showing them how it’s done”, or “I can do it faster”. Neither of you ever expressed it out loud, but gratefulness didn’t have to be said to be known.

It became less about playfully competing and more about just enjoying each other’s company in your own way.

“Hahh… it’s finally over!” you exclaimed, plopping down on a chair as you began fanning yourself with the closest piece of paper you could pick up. Even in the air-conditioned room, you found yourself sweating, your body unused to the physical exertion normally not demanded of you during work. Even your co-worker seemed exhausted— if the grunting noise he made was to be taken as a telltale sign.

Banri strode over beside you, looking just as exasperated as you felt.

“What kind of dumbass—“

“—decides to buy a bunch of pots,” you continued, halting your fanning motions as your fingers began aching again, “in the evening? What the fuck would you do with 12 plant pots?”

“‘xactly? Shit, didn’t realise those clay pots were gonna be that heavy…” Banri said, your eyes immediately drawn to his fingers. Ahh, he did end up doing most of the heavy labour.

“We didn’t even have to charm anyone into buying things this time,” you commented, before moving to the real thing you wanted to ask about, “by the way… are your hands okay?”

“This much?” he put his palms up, “is nothing~ had a lot worse.”

You don’t say anything in reply, merely staring at the small blemishes newly formed. It was minimal, pretty much shallow scratches, but it was there.

“Y’worried, babe?”

It was a slip of the tongue on his part, but neither of you seemed to mind. It rolled off pretty smoothly, and if asked about it he could easily say it was just a joke between the two of you— a little ‘affection’ to show how close you’ve gotten as friends.

Well, he thought, it wouldn’t be that much of a lie.

“No, not really,” you replied, mind too carried away elsewhere to pay any mind to the new pet name, “but you should still put on a band-aid or something.”

“Already said I was fine,” Banri replied, his eyes following your sudden upright movement as you headed inside the staff room. As he took the initiative to finish cleaning up so you two could head out for the night, the sight of you coming back out empty-handed had him befuddled.

“What’d ya even do in there?”

“So apparently we don’t have any stocked up,” you explained, quickly doing one last glance at today’s revenue, “so let’s stop by the convenience store later to get some… seriously, what if one of us gets pricked by a plant or something?”

If he decided to be honest, he would’ve told you that he already had one in his bag. A certain mother hen had forced him, Taichi, and Hyodo to carry one around and he’d learned a long time ago to not resist Omi over trivial things.

Still… it was pretty cute how you impulsively decided to go buy something because of him. There was no harm in hiding something to see this side of you more, right?

“Y’want me to come with?” he asked.

You turned around to give him a look. “Obviously? Then there’d be no point of buying it tonight rather than tomorrow.”

“Then take inventory faster… or do ya need my help for that, too?”

“Banri-kun~ you totally forgot to water the hyacinths, or do you need my help for that, too?”

Both of your comments are left hanging in the air, an, oddly enough, peaceful silence encompassing the room until,

“Might as well walk you home after this,” you turned around to face him in surprise, “it’s getting pretty late.”

“Already taking me home without even buying me dinner?”

“We’re going to the convenience store anyway, I’ll buy you something, whatever cold sandwich or fruit cup salad you want— my treat,” he joked, peals of laughter bursting from deep within as your eyebrows furrowed in incredulousness.

You rolled your eyes at him, but the smile on your lips betrayed your undeniable amusement. “Awww so sweet of you, but I can’t have you one-up me there. I’ll buy you the themed plasters— how does having hello kitty’s face around your fingers sound?” you retorted, easing yourself into laughter as well.

As the two of you walked along the sidewalk, side by side, you couldn’t help yourself from saying what’s been on your mind for the past week or so now.

“What we have is nice.”

Banri released a small huff, the corners of his lips stretching upwards. Even with its vagueness, the meaning rang clear.

“Yeah, I like what we have too.”

There was no need to rush into anything.

“ thank you for your hard work today at the flower shop! here, feel free to take home this pink hyacinth with you~ ”

【 hyacinth 】 games and sports, rashness 【 pink hyacinth 】 play

“ maybe you’d like some more flowers before heading home? ”

-ˋˏflower shop masterlistˎˊ- |  -ˋˏfic masterlistˎˊ-

[ellewritesathing]

Faking It  -  IV

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 4

Word-count: 3.4k+

A/N: this gif has nothing to do with this part but i thought it was cute and couldn’t find a kitchen gif that fit. hope you enjoy the drama lmao 💕

Of all the ways you saw taking Caliban’s hand the day you met, you hadn’t anticipated the very obvious outcome: that you’d develop feelings for him. Actual, real, not fake feelings. But it’s not like it was your fault - no, you blamed the blonde asshole himself. They just didn’t make guys like him in Greendale, so he completely blindsided you by being … well, himself.  

He was intimidating enough that other guys left you alone, and - even though plenty of people found him as charming as you did - he made it very clear that he had no interest in any of them. He was infuriatingly good at everything he did and he looked good while doing it. He laughed at all your shitty jokes and actually listened to you when you spoke. How the hell were you supposed to not be attracted to someone who would sit with you while you worked on your art projects and quote poetry in an offhand effort to distract you? 

Who the hell could even quote poetry in real life? 

Not you. Not anyone that you’d ever met. 

Caliban was just different in all the ways that made your heart race. 

The fact that your friends liked him didn’t hurt either. Harvey still rolled his eyes whenever Caliban showed up or made the others laugh, but his anger must have subsided at least a little because you’d caught them joking around between practices. Theo loved Caliban; the two of them had inside jokes, knew each other’s lunch orders, and partnered up for chemistry. Roz would read a book and annotate it before handing it off to Caliban to read, and she liked that Caliban made you smile. Sabrina liked having someone to do dumb and borderline illegal stuff with. They liked him, and now you liked them. The fuckers. 

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Sabrina asked, nudging you with her elbow. “You’ve been staring at the baseball field for like five minutes.”

“Of course I’m listening,” you lied. You sat up straighter and tugged your clothing back into place. “Quite frankly, I’m insulted you’d think that I wasn’t paying attention to The Great Kinkle Family Reunion.” 

Sabrina tilted her head and smiled politely, that’s how you knew trouble was coming. “Then tell me what you should do when Uncle Tristan starts talking about horses,” she said. 

“Uh …”  

“Exactly.” Sabrina laughed and looked down at the field where Harvey, Theo, Caliban, and the rest of the team were running laps. “I’ve been to every family get together since I met Harvey, and they all end horribly. Caliban’s mom was really sweet to host one, but she’s in way over her head. Have you met her, by the way?” 

“No,” you said. You couldn’t tell if that was weird or not. Were fake girlfriends supposed to meet their partner’s mothers? “But I’m kinda surprised she’s doing this given everything I’ve heard about her and the Kinkles. They weren’t exactly the most supportive of her.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know why Harvey’s such a sweetheart when the rest of the family is … It was probably Tommy, now that I think about it,” Sabrina said. She shook her head and turned to look at you before taking your hands in hers. “I just wanted to check-in and make sure you’re ready for this.” 

“Brina, I can handle this.” You squeezed her hands reassuringly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a pretty mean right hook. Ask Colin Anderson. If there’s a fight, I’ll be golden.” 

Sabrina laughed and let go of your hands. “I’m trying to prevent that fight, but good to know.” 

You laughed and bumped her with your arm. “Looks like practice is letting out. You wanna head down?” 

“Nah.” Sabrina put on her brightest smile and waved down to a very tired-looking Harvey. “Let them de-stink first.” 

---

After two weeks of prep and cover stories, the day of the Great Reunion was here. You’d woken up disgustingly early in order to get yourself together and drive over to Caliban’s to help them set everything up. 

You weren’t sure what you expected their house to look like, but clashed with the black BMW parked in the garage. It was a sweet, two-story house with a wraparound porch and balloons in the front yard. The house was painted a soft sunshine shade of yellow and had rocking chairs, hanging plants, and rose beds in the front. It was the picture-perfect house for anyone other than Caliban, but it still fit. 

Different. 

Gathering up your nerve and the rest of your belongings, you made your way to the door and pressed the doorbell. The tiny pothos plant felt as awkward as you did while it sat in your hands and waited for someone to open the door. 

Thank God it was Caliban and not his mom. 

He smiled amusedly at your plant before looking up at you. “Is that for me?” 

“I know it’s a lame gift but I didn’t know if your mom was allergic to cut flowers and I’m not old enough to buy her wine,” you said in a rush. You frowned slightly and tilted your head. “Well, not legally at least.” 

Caliban laughed and reached out to take one of your hands and lead you inside. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

You didn’t know what else to say as Caliban led you to the kitchen. The house was as much of a surprise inside as it was outside, and it smelled like freshly baked bread. It was colorful and covered in old photos. He seemed very at home here and lighter than you’d ever seen him elsewhere. No, not lighter. Happier.

“Wait.” You stopped dead and let go of Caliban to reach out for a photo of the cutest little boy with missing front teeth and a mess of blonde curls around his dirty face. “Is this you?” You couldn’t help the laugh that came out when Caliban looked pained at your discovery. “Aw, Abercrombie, you were so cute! What’s on your face?” 

Caliban sighed and took the photo out of your hand, looking embarrassed for probably the first time in his life. “I was seven years old and I liked eating chocolate. Is that a problem?” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” a woman said as she rounded a corner and laughed. She had the most beautiful long, brown hair and kind eyes. “You didn’t just like chocolate. If you came anywhere near it, you used to eat yourself into a sugar coma. I couldn’t bake anything around you without you eating the batter before it even got into the oven.” 

She laughed and ruffled Caliban’s hair before smiling at you. You didn’t know anyone could ruffle his hair without losing a hand. 

“You must be the lovely new girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” she said. “I’m Isobel. Is that for me?” 

Isobel pointed at your little pot plant and jolted you back to life. “Uh, yeah,” you said and held the plant out to her. Her hands were warm as she took the plant from you. “I wasn’t too sure what to bring but I didn’t want to come empty-handed.” 

“Oh, not at all. This little guy is perfect!” Isobel lifted up the plant to look at it. “I’m going to give him some water and put him in the front. Do you guys want to get settled in the kitchen so long?” 

“Of course,” Caliban said with a gentle smile. His mom gave him another playful bump and disappeared into some other part of the house while Caliban held a hand out to you. “Shall we?” 

“Who are you?” you teased with wide eyes as you took his hand in yours.

You followed him into the kitchen and took a seat at the breakfast bar. They were here for maybe a month and their house already felt like more of a home than yours ever did. How they afforded it all, you had no idea, but Caliban never spoke about his birth dad and you didn’t want to push. All you knew was he gave Caliban his blonde hair and bone structure, nothing more and nothing less.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sight of Caliban in a sunflower printed apron. Clearly, your efforts to contain your amusement weren’t nearly as stellar as you thought they were because Caliban raised an eyebrow at you over all the baking supplies on the counter. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“I didn’t peg you for an apron guy is all,” you said with a small shrug, doing your best to sound nonchalant and not totally, completely chalant. 

“I don’t like getting my clothes dirty,” Caliban said defensively. “Without an apron, anything can stain your shirt.” 

“I think I’ll take the risk,” you said as you tapped the counter. “I trust myself and don’t think anyone’s going to splatter batter on me.” 

“Batter, maybe not …” Caliban tilted his head to the side. “But flour?” 

“Flour?” 

Before you had the chance to ask what he meant, Caliban threw a handful of flour at you. He laughed at how shocked you were and you took that opportunity to reach across the counter and throw some flour at him. Soon enough the two of you were running around the kitchen, covered in flour, and laughing until your sides hurt. 

Caliban wrapped his arms around you and scooped you up, ignoring your pleading and cries that were cut short by laughter. You were still mid-air with Caliban’s face close to your own when Isobel came back. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Isobel put her hands out to get your attention. “We have guests coming in an hour and the two of you are making a mess in my kitchen.” 

Caliban set you down, but the two of you were still tangled up and filthy. You didn’t know what to say to the woman you’d met fifteen minutes ago and whose kitchen you’d subsequently ruined.

Isobel laughed and shook her head. “It’s my own fault for leaving this one unsupervised,” she teased, pointing a finger at Caliban as she made her way around to start cleaning up. “Go clean yourselves up. Come back when you don’t like friendly ghosts.” 

Luckily for you, flour was relatively easy to get out because you weren’t wearing dark colors for once. It took a while to get it out of your hair and make it look presentable, but it was hard to be too mad at the mess when it was such a fun time making it. 

When you got back downstairs, you could hear people laughing and talking in the kitchen. It was still too early for guests but it was clear that it wasn’t just Caliban and his mom. 

You were right. You rounded the corner to find Caliban freshly-changed, his mom kneading some dough, and a very pretty redhead with big doe-eyes all laughing at some inside joke. It made you feel painfully other. 

“Oh, Luce,” Isobel said when she noticed you come in, waving you over. “You have to meet Caliban’s girlfriend. She’s a gem.” 

Luce ... As in Lucy? Lucy from California? Harvey’s first crush? Lucy. 

This was going to end badly. 

Lucy tilted her head as she turned to look at you. You could see the gears turning in her head as she looked you over. “Girlfriend?” she asked with a friendly (but fake) smile.

“The one and only,” you said with an over-confident smile as you walked over and interlaced your hand with Caliban’s. You wrapped your other hand around his arm, just like the first day you met. You introduced yourself with a friendly yet fake smile of your own. 

“You guys moved up here a few months ago and Caliban’s completely forgotten about me,” Lucy teased to Isobel. She moved some hair out of her face and looked over at you again. “He used to tell me everything. We were like this.” She crossed her index and middle finger over each other with a smile. 

You’d have liked to show her one of your fingers. 

But you didn’t. All you did was smile and make some polite conversation while not letting go of Caliban. You weren’t sure why you were being so defensive. It’s not like you and Caliban were actually dating, but you didn’t like Lucy. Not only did she break Harvey’s heart and cause all the damage you’d spent the better part of two months fixing, but she also just rubbed you the wrong way. 

“Okay, not to ruin all the fun,” Isobel said after a while. “But guests should be coming soon. Why don’t you kids make sure everything is set up in the back and keep an ear out for any early birds?” 

“Sure thing,” Lucy said, hopping off her seat and leading the way to the backyard. 

You started following when Caliban caught your arm and said something to his mom about getting more supplies from the garage. He didn’t say anything else as he led the way and neither did you, but that was mostly just because you were being petty. 

Caliban led you to the middle of the garage and tugged on the old light to illuminate the dusty room around you. He lifted your intertwined hands and folded them over each other as he thought about what he was going to say. 

You couldn’t wait that long. 

“So, what’s the deal with you and Lucy? And I want the truth this time.” 

Caliban laughed and shook his head as he looked up at the old light above you. He took a breath before saying, “Lucinda’s my best friend, pretty much my only friend before yours so kindly took me in. If I’d known she’d be here today, I would have said something.” 

“Wait, you were best friends with the girl who broke up your family?” you asked. 

“She apologized,” Caliban said. “And, besides, you’re friends with Harvey.” 

“Harvey’s never made out with me,” you said, untangling your hand from his so that you could cross your arms over your chest. 

Caliban narrowed his eyes slightly as he took in your newly defensive stance, and then he laughed without saying anything else. He looked amused when he met your scowling gaze again. “I can’t believe you’re jealous,” he said. “Don’t misunderstand me, it’s incredibly attractive but-” 

“I am not jealous,” you said. “I couldn’t care less.” 

“I’m sure,” Caliban said with a sarcastic smile. He rolled his eyes as he stepped closer and cupped your face before leaning down to be millimeters away from your face. “Forget about her, alright? I assure you, you’re the only fake girlfriend for me.” 

Before you had the chance to say something witty in return, the garage door flew open and the devil herself stood in the opening. 

“There you are!” Lucy said. “Cal, I need help with these streamers. I’m way too short to get them where your mom wants them.” 

“I’ll be right out,” Caliban said without taking his eyes off yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back and leaving you in the dusty and dim garage. 

You shot a warning text to Harvey about Lucy before you went out to help the others. Though he never answered, he must have got it because he was surprisingly okay when he and Sabrina got there. You and Sabrina shared a look when Lucy got a bit handsy with her hello, but neither of you said anything. 

That’s how most of the get together went; you and Sabrina sharing secret, sarcastic looks and staying out of trouble. Well, mostly. You still didn’t know what to say when Uncle Tristan started talking about horses, but Caliban came to your rescue and the rest was smooth sailing. 

Until an hour went by when you couldn’t find Caliban anywhere. You asked around but no one had seen him, but his mom pointed you in the direction of his room. Isobel held onto your arm before you could leave. 

“Um, I’m sorry if this seems a bit strange but I …” Isobel smiled and looked down at her hand on your arm before letting go, clearly trying to respect whatever boundaries you may have had. “Caliban’s been a lot happier since we moved here and I think that has to do with you. I just wanted to say thank you.” 

“Oh, uh- It’s nothing. I’m just a girl and I’m sure Caliban’s brought a few of us around by now with cheekbones like that,” you said with a smile. 

“No, Caliban’s never brought anyone home before,” Isobel said, looking like she was trying to remember anything to the contrary. “Sorry, hun, I’ve gotta go. Jan’s calling me over. Good luck with the search!” 

“Thanks,” you said quietly. 

Isobel disappeared into the sea of Kinkles and you made your way to Caliban’s room. You took your time going up the stairs, looking at all the photos on the wall as you did. It was nice to see that Caliban was just as angry and angsty now as he was at  14 years old. 

It was strangely quiet upstairs compared to the rest of the house and the party in the backyard. Quite enough that you could hear someone giggling upstairs, someone decidedly not Caliban. 

Roz would have told you to face it head-on and not to sneak around like a creep. Thankfully, Roz wasn’t there to say anything. 

You tiptoed as casually as you could to Caliban’s room. The room felt more like the Caliban you knew than the rest of the house did: big windows without any blinds, a tornado of books and sketches on every surface available, and a very pretty redhead making out with him. 

“She kissed you, huh?” you asked, echoing the story of when they were younger before turning on your heel and slamming the door behind you. Your heart ached annoyingly when Caliban called out for you as he followed behind you, but your brain told it to suck it up until you were out of the house.

By sheer force of will, you made it back downstairs without turning around, but then Caliban managed to get a hold of your hand and spin you around to face him. 

“Would you please let me explain?” Caliban asked. 

“No,” you said, pulling your hand away from him. “Look, it’s not like you have anything to explain anyway, okay?” He reached out for you again and you took a step back so you wouldn’t be confused by his touch. “You and me? We were a fake relationship. Maybe this is the universe saying it’s time it came to a real end.” 

You knew what he’d say if you weren’t arguing. He’d ask you, with that annoying smile of his, when you started letting the universe tell you what to do. Or he’d make some comment about the universe being a bastard. But all he did now was set his jaw and look down at his hand. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying this is it,” you said. “Goodbye, Caliban.” 

You weren’t sure why you expected him to say something else, to fight for your fake relationship, but all that expectation just led to disappointment. Caliban flexed his hand but didn’t say anything else as you pushed past him to get your stuff from the kitchen so you could rush to your car to cry. 

Harvey was tapping on your window just before you started the car. Curse your five-minute breakdown for being long enough for him to notice you were gone. 

“What?” you asked as you rolled down the window. 

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked. “You ran out of there so fast-” 

“You were right, okay?” You put your car in reverse before looking back up at him. “Caliban’s not a good guy and you warned me. Will you just let me go so I can cry somewhere that’s not here?” 

“Hey, you know that’s not what I meant,” Harvey said softly, reaching through the window for you. “Let me come with-” 

“No. Go have fun with your family. I need to get out of here.” 

“But-” 

“Harvey, move or I will drive over your foot.” 

You didn’t think he was going to do it, but Harvey took a very reluctant step back and put his hands up in surrender. He wasn’t going to fight for you either, not that you’d given him much of a chance. Harvey was stood there, watching you drive away until he disappeared in your rearview mirror. 

Music blared in an attempt to drown out your thoughts, but there was one you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Sabrina was right - every Kinkle family get together ended horribly.

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